Sat

July 21st, 2026

A dragonfly convinced me that the decades I spent thinking I would never be able to meditate were wrong.

I’ve written about meditation several times here over the years and had repeatedly decided that it was basically stupid and not for me.

Turns out I’m just kind of stupid (story of my life) and I’m ecstatic to report that the reason I previously could not meditate is pretty simple: I’m lazy.

Now, “lazy” is not a term I use to describe myself often; I do work hard and do a lot (arguably, I do too much). But I thought that meditation was supposed to be an inactivity, a way to pull down the switch in my brain and nervous system to shut everything down for service.

Turns out, this isn’t how it works.

I just finished a book about the life of 13th century Zen Buddhist monk Eihei Dōgen. It was challenging af but I gained a lot, including the ability to sit. Dōgen spoke a lot about the practice of fully exerting oneself in every activity, in every moment. For example: eating. When you cook and eat, you should be present with every sense. Smell the garlic; taste the tumeric. And when you fully exert yourself in a moment, the universe shares in that moment with you. When you bathe yourself, you clean the universe, too.

This idea of exertion extends to sitting. Meditation is not the opposite of activity; it is something that requires presence and intense concentration in order to approach the kind of enlightenment that lives inside all living things. This isn’t a way I had heard meditation described before. So I started sitting this way. It’s hard. It’s rewarding.

This practice blew up for me in a beautiful way one day a few weeks ago when I took Marvel outside to poop.

While she was doing her business (exerting herself in a different way), I noticed a black dragonfly land on a blade of grass near my feet. I focused on the dragonfly and had an unexpected out-of-body experience. I could feel the entirety of nature, the trees and animals and sky; I could feel every person, especially the presence of my mom; I could feel all of time and the infinite universe, inside and outside of me.

It sounds very woo woo (because it kind of is), but it was a deeply spiritual moment for a person who has found most religion lacking. It connected me to this world and life in a relative and absolute way.

At the festival over the weekend, I was watching a set when a dragonfly landed on the shoulder of the guy standing right in front of me. A magnificent reminder to be in the moment, to use all of my senses, to be grateful to be alive, and to enjoy the show.