It’s 1976, and my mom and dad are sitting quietly with their eyes closed, hands resting upward — thumb and index finger touching — while my younger siblings crawl on their backs and shoulders. My older two brothers and I sit nearby, holding our own meditation poses, bored, rolling our eyes and counting the minutes until this ritual will end.

At least once a week or whenever things got stressful, my parents would pull all five of their children — ranging in age from ten to one — into our library for a family meditation. As much as I complained, a part of me yearned for this spiritual practice.

People sometimes make the mistake of thinking that meditation needs to not only happen in a quiet, seated position, but that it needs to happen on the ideal cushion, and in the most serene and peaceful setting.  We want to shop for the best Zabuton, create a beautiful alter, and even have a separate “meditation room” - and when one of those things fails to come to fruition we somehow never get around to putting our little tushies on the cushion and getting to work.

Control, or lack thereof, is one of the greatest sources of suffering around.

You’re doing it again. You meditate. You read personal development blogs at breakfast. You listen to Law of Attraction audio books in your car. You just know better. But you’re still letting your inner critic bully you.