Tag: mindfulness

The Word Is Penguin
fitness

The Word Is Penguin

Mina2 Comments

I wasn’t going to choose a Word of the Year. Again. I struggled with choosing a word last year, too. I ended up with EASE, which, every time I thought about it over the last 12 months, stuck it’s tongue out at me. Hahahahaha. Not. I don’t want to be taunted by my word again this year. I decided to abdicate from the WOTY process (though my fellow bloggers have offered many lovely words here).

Then, lying in bed last night, my word came to me. PENGUIN. The thought started with this. What can I write about this month that will allow me to share the cute penguin photos from my South Africa sojourn over the holidays? This led me to think about penguin-ness. What it is about penguins, especially the knee-high penguins in sunny climes, not on polar ice, which is so irresistibly charming that even the coolest, most blasé, jaded, seen-it-all person will be delighted. (Side note movie recommendation: The Penguin Lessons. How a pet penguin can make you a better person, even or especially when living under an oppressive regime, such as Argentina in the 70s.)

Penguin-ness is that unique combination of utter grace in the water and goofy awkwardness on land. Not to mention the transition from swimming to standing in the shallows, which seems to involve making a tripod with their wings (more like flippers) and then walking forward. The way we walk forward out of a downward dog. Except the last bit of the journey to standing, when the penguins’ wings pop out of the sand and, Weeble-like, they pop upright.

A penguin standing on a large rock surrounded by boulders in a sunny natural setting.
Two African penguins walking on a sandy beach with rocky background.

Awkward grace. Graceful awkwardness. This is the essence of penguin-ness. Capturing the art of being with what is in life. The grace of so many moments. The awkwardness of so many of the very next moments. Their inextricability. The impossibility of constant grace. The inevitability of goofs … and grace.

Can I live into my penguin-ness this year? Goof or grace. Awkward or elegant. Prosaic or sublime. Be with what is. In this moment. And this one that comes next.

A dog is curled up on a cluttered bed. Some Calm Amidst The Chaos
ADHD · fitness · habits · meditation · mindfulness · self care

Some Calm Amidst The Chaos

Christine Hennebury4 Comments

I’ve been writing the Making Space series daily every December for 5 years and, as it goes with these things, I am probably the person who needs the advice the most.

I am just as likely as anyone (maybe even more likely?) to get caught up in how much I could be doing and forget that there is just one person doing all the stuff I put on my list.*

My ever-expanding to do list is the result of the combination my ADHD-related challenges with time/capacity/prioritization and the ambient pressure that comes along this time of year.

Writing the Making Space posts have been helpful for me every year – a daily reminder that making space for myself in my own life is a valuable and worthwhile endeavour AND a practice that actually forces me to focus on a task (writing) that I enjoy.

I also find that the movement and mindfulness practices help, of course. Even though I don’t always complete those specific practices on those specific days, the structure of seeking them out to share with you reminds me to include at least some movement and a little meditation on even my busiest days.

But, despite how helpful all of that has been in the past, this year feels different – in a good way.

This year, I feel far more calm in December than I ever have.

Now, there are lots of contributing factors here – my kids are both in their 20s, my freelance work has been better distributed this year, I have gotten better at planning and prioritizing- but, aside from (because of?) all of that, I have found myself leaning into my movement and mindfulness practices and feeling much better because of it.

When I feel tense, I’ve been asking myself how my body needs to move right now.

When I feel stressed, I’ve been asking myself to pause and breathe.

And, yes, I have been doing this to a certain degree for a long while, this year seeking movement and mindfulness has been a more automatic, more consistent response to those feelings of tension and stress.

It feels really good to respond in those ways so often, so directly.

And I am proud of myself for getting to this point.

My practices may not be perfect but they do allow me to take better care of myself and that’s really the best case scenario, isn’t it?

*Yes, there is holiday teamwork at my house but I am talking about the stuff I tend to pile on to my to do list, not the stuff that actually must be done for our house to function and have the holiday we want to have.

a drawing of the number 21 Making Space 2025: Day 21
holiday fitness · mindfulness · self care · yoga

Making Space 2025: Day 21

Christine HenneburyLeave a comment

Hey Everyone,

First things first: Today’s post is late because I made space in my day to have brunch with friends but I forgot to make space to write this post beforehand. I don’t know if that makes me a good example or a bad example but I’m definitely something. 😉

Here in the Northern Hemisphere, today is the Winter Solstice.

It’s the darkest time of the year and traditionally a time when everyone would slow down, tell stories, do some reflection (or divination), and find ways to bring the light inside…at least metaphorically, through warm fires, bright candles, and good company.

And, of course, a lot of people still do all of that in one form or another.

Personally, I enjoy small rituals to mark special occasions and the change from ‘it’s getting darker all the time’ to ‘it is slowly getting lighter all the time’ feels like a good occasion to celebrate.

It also feels like a good time for us all to Make Space for to give ourselves what we need – whether that is movement, rest, meditation, ritual, journaling, delicious snacks, good company, or anything else we can think of.

In that spirit, I have compiled my usual offering of a movement practice and meditation practice AND I have a bunch of other things for you to try – if you are so inclined.

And, as always, I wish you ease as you create more space for yourself in your own life and please feel free to ignore these suggestions and do what you need to do.

Here are some Winter Solstice journal prompts from _WovenWomen and Therapy_with_Noel and if you’re like me and you like a personal ritual to mark different times of the year, here are some simple ones for Winter Solstice from The Mystical Society*

And here are a few more restful Solstice videos, just for fun: Solstice – Celebrating the Light from Danu’s Irish Herb Garden, Winter Solstice Sanctuary Ambience ambience from Dead of Night, and Music For Yule – Winter Solstice Songs from Miguel Berkemeier.

Here’s our movement practice for today. It’s a longer video but please don’t feel that you must do it all – just do what you have time/capacity to do.

The still image for this 30 minute Winter Solstice Yoga from PERSON shows the instructor doing Virabhadrasana II (warrior 2) pose on a yoga mat with a large window behind them. They are wearing a blue tshirt and leggings and their hair is in a ponytail with some strands falling around their face. Their torso is mostly facing the camera, their right arm is extended in front of them and their left arm is extended behind them (both at shoulder height) their bodyweight is shifted onto their right leg which is bent and pointed to the right. Their left leg is extended in line with but away from their right and their left toes are pointing towards the camera.

When I looked for Solstice meditations on YouTube today, I found that they were either very long or that they were wandering too far into metaphysical spirituality to share casually without discussion.

So, instead, I went to the website for my favourite meditation app Insight Timer and found this track from Lyn Delmastro-Thomson that is symbolic but not especially ‘woo.’ https://insighttimer.com/play/playlist/mYu9SJojrI40WpnFtALP?track=d3r8r6s8x9w7q9w6c0r3a6b7b3c3t1u9e2t2m2l3 If that track doesn’t appeal, you can always click on the other images you can see and try out one of those meditations instead.

*I like the simplicity of the rituals they suggest but I disagree with their characterization of more complicated rituals as bullsh*t. I also disagree with anyone who suggests that everything needs to be complex to be helpful. I’m sure it will shock you to discover that I think everyone should do things in the way that serves them best.

The work of wellness when you lose your job
challenge · fitness

The work of wellness when you lose your job

elan.paulson2 Comments

Rien n’est plus précieux que le temps. (Nothing is more precious than time.)

I was let go from my full-time job recently at a time when my entire sector is struggling. A sympathetic colleague signed off on a supportive message to me with “Stay well.”

Wellness is the focus of much career transition advice I have read so far (on websites, the job program I am in, etc.). Some of it makes sense for anyone: see friends, do exercise, get outside, eat good food, get enough sleep. Some is specific to the emotions and challenges that go along with unexpected job loss: name your feelings, make prudent budget cuts, consider making time to upskill, etc.

Some wellness advice focuses on being mindful about next steps: take time to reflect on and even rethink one’s career goals and job hunting strategy. One piece I read warns against running right back to look for similar jobs when “pursuing a similar role might be the first step in letting history repeat itself.”

It all seems aimed at putting me in a space where I can discover new, even undiscovered, paths ahead for me. But it is a circuitous route: taking time away from looking for work in order to find it. And for a self-admitted workaholic, all this not looking for work feels like work. It is hard to enjoy free time when it is imposed…and the clock ticks with no secure income.

As my brain has been chewing on the work of wellness, I happened to think of flânerie, which one blogger describes as being “all about experiencing the world with an open heart and an unhurried spirit.” In the 19th century, wealthy French male flâneurs walked and wandered the urban cityscapes in a detached, observational way “to appreciate the world […] in its simplest form, free from the pressures of time.” Another way to put it is that they were idlers, which some saw as lazy and others saw as radical.

Paul Gavarni, Le Flâneur, 1842

Paul Gavarni, Le Flâneur, 1842.

Should flâneurs be my wellness gurus right now? You can’t disagree that it’s nearly always a good idea to get out for a walk. In the context of job loss, “staying well” may require some serendipitous, open-hearted french wandering. Getting idle in order to see what’s around the next corner. Maybe I will start with Lauren Elkin’s book Flâneuse: Women Walk the City (2017).

Not being of the elite class, however, I only have a limited time to be free from the pressure of time. I can only afford to make flânerie part-time work.

What is your experience with wellness during job loss, and how much work was it “work” to try to savour the time?

Learning to Be (more than okay) Alone
fitness

Learning to Be (more than okay) Alone

Mina4 Comments

Learning to Be (more than okay) Alone

As you may have noticed these past months, I’ve been exploring how it is to do various things alone—drinking champagne, eating dessert—and those explorations were, of course, really about doing other things alone—hiking, biking around a new city, lazing in a city park and so on. I’ve been thinking a lot about all the qualities and sensations of being alone. All the different things I do alone. How each thing feels different when I do it alone, from when I do it with another person. How some things, which I never thought could be good alone, are.

In fact, it is this discovery, that more things than I expected are actually quite good when done alone, that has provoked this current deep dive into the varieties of aloneness. It took me some time to get here. My marriage definitively ended about two and a half years ago, so I’ve had some practice at this alone business. And I resisted the potential for good in the experiences until quite recently.   

Sports were where I really learned how to do things alone. Specifically, training for ultra marathons was the first time I started clocking serious time alone. Now I do almost every sport, almost all the time, alone, except my occasional Saturday morning runs with friends. Before the ultras, I had multiple running partners. We kept each other company on long training runs preparing for marathons. When I got into the ultras, I didn’t have much company and began to figure out this alone-ness. Until I surprised myself by enjoying the liberated feeling of heading out for hours alone in the mountains or threading through different parks in the city.

In these last few years, I’ve gone through this same process with quite a lot of other activities.

An Incomplete List of Things I Do Alone (which I used to do mostly with another person)

All the sports, most of the time, including …

Run—on roads and trails

Cycle—on roads and trails

Cross country ski

Snowshoe.

Hike

Yoga

Cross-Fit

Also …

Binge Netflix

Go to the movies

Fix magnetic kitchen cupboard door clasps

Rehang the tricky, heavy mirror over the fuse panel

Grocery shop

Go to the farmer’s market

Cook meals

Eat meals

Go to a coffee shop for the occasional breakfast or afternoon macchiato

Go home after dinner with friends (including my own birthday dinner)

Take the subway home late at night

Plan trips

Fly on planes

Wake up on weekend mornings (well really all mornings)

Dance

Go for walks

Take naps

Sleep

An Incomplete List of Things I Haven’t Quite Figured Out How to Be More Than Okay About Doing Alone:

  • Go to the theatre, live dance performance or the movies. It turns out that what I love about live performance or seeing a movie in the theatre is diving into conversation afterward with my companion, to prolong the delight or bemoan the time we can’t get back.
  • Swim in a pond or lake. Partly because of water safety drilled into me at long ago summer camp. And I know that’s not the whole reason.
  • Cook an elaborate meal.

With each experience (on these lists and so many others) there is a process of acclimatization to aloneness, like what I went through in sports. A process of familiarization. Of figuring out how it (whatever it is) works alone. What works alone. How the experience is different. What are the pleasures. And the disappointments. Because to be sure, there are those too. Which is why the title of this piece includes the phrase, more than okay, and not some version of the word, joy.  Most certainly, some alone-ness is joyful. And I’m not fully emancipated from my deep-seated desire to be in connection with another human being while experiencing life. Chocolate cake is delicious, and it tastes better with someone I love (friend, family or intimate partner).

A slice of chocolate layer cake from Yiseul Han on unsplash

And then there’s last night, when I finally closed my computer after a disheartening study session for an exam I’m taking in a couple of weeks and, sitting on a chair to take a breath, I had a vivid and visceral desire for a light hand on my shoulder. A gentle kiss on the top of my head.   

The past couple of weeks my Saturday runs have been alone. I’ve gone up to the Cloisters Museum, a run I’ve been doing for more than 30 years. Every person who has ever been beside me on that run comes with me in my heart. And I’m there, at every age I’ve ever been on that stretch of road. Still here. In the company of spirits who lighten my step.

Rock and Root Therapy for Being Here Now
self care

Rock and Root Therapy for Being Here Now

Mina1 Comment

Last week I had a major work setback. I submitted something that was not up to snuff, and it got sent back with scathing commentary. I can resubmit. And, I am, unsurprisingly, worried about whether I can do a better job, because now I’m in the vicious cycle of doubting myself.

So, I woke up on Saturday morning weighed down by the blues and decided the antidote was to do the hardest mountain bike ride I did last summer. As my second ride of the season this year.  A trail that starts at the far edge of Canmore Nordic Center and plunges into dense forest on its way to Banff.

The blues-fighting ride I decided to do is rocky and root-y to an extreme. Last year, it was raining and cold (4C/40F), so the roots were all the more slippery. I walked my bike. A lot. My phone went into SOS mode from the cold. When I decided to do it this past Saturday, my reasoning was this: Physical effort aside, the trail requires the particular intense mental focus that I love about mountain biking. That dance between laser attention and allowing the bike to flow with the landscape. The dance of vigilance and letting go. The ride would be an exercise in trusting myself, just at a moment when I wasn’t. Also, I had barely gotten reacquainted with my mountain bike the morning before. So my bike and I were still re-establishing our trust.  

No matter. I needed some rock and root therapy. I needed something that demanded my attention and, as a double and triple bonus, passed through breathtaking landscape and wrested me out of my looping thoughts and into my heartbeat.    

When I finished my morning meditation, the mountain outside my window was sun gilded. Auspicious. The weather was a balmy 7C/45F. No rain in the forecast. Long story short. My bike and I found our mutual groove. The drier trail meant more grip over roots. Together with a more aggressive mindset, the kind of mindset that seeks to purge toxic thoughts and relocate in the here and now; I rode 80% of what I walked last year. Okay—that’s a wild guesstimate. And it sounds so official, I couldn’t resist. I walked my bike. Very little. My teeth were not chattering, my phone did not retreat into its SOS mode, and I was mostly dry when I arrived in Banff. Plus, quadruple bonus, the shuttle back to Canmore was sitting at the stop, as if waiting for me.

When I got home, I sat on the front porch in the sun and bathed my spirit in the rocky mountain filling my eyes. I thought about how hard it can be sometimes to enjoy the moment, to be here now. What more did I need right then? A mischievous part of myself chimed in that she could make a list of things I needed. Then she quieted. And let me just be. I spent the better part of the afternoon lying on the couch reading Samantha Harvey’s transcendent novel, Orbital. Yes, from time to time I thought about the work setback and what I needed to do to rectify. The challenge felt more surmountable after several hours of dancing with the forest terrain. The setback was not gone, of course not. Simply mitigated. Reframed. The shift in perspective offered by rock and root therapy, bringing me back to the here and now.

Novelty seeking is probably my favourite sport
fitness · habits · health · motivation

Novelty seeking is probably my favourite sport

elan.paulson2 Comments

When I was in my 20s I was asked in a job interview (to be a casino table dealer) if I prefer various or repetitive tasks. I knew the best answer was: you say “both.”

But…turns out it’s not true: while some ppl take comfort in it, I struggle with repetition. I don’t usually take pleasure watching the same movies again and again. I get bored eating the same food. I have little interest in returning to the same vacation spots year after year.

That’s all fine. But when I pick up then drop exercise classes, sports leagues, or health routines, I can be critical of myself. It has become part of my self-story that I can’t make good habits. Some days, I even tell myself I am lazy; as evidence of my half-efforts to stick with stuff, I point to a closet of barely user gear.

Then, last week, someone I know described themselves as a novelty seeker. And I thought, hey, me too. ME. TOO.

Novelty seeker positively reframes all my negative self-talk. Recently, I went line dancing, I disc golfed, and I played scrimmage soccer in one week. I am taking up cycling in mid-life. I run around making things. Truly, rather than focus on one sport or type of exercise, I have always sought various ones.

Being a novelty seeker means that I trade off becoming really good at one or a few things by doing them over and over for the joy of experiencing many new things all the time. It means I am not less active, just differently active.

I still seriously admire all the people I know who run long distances, lift weights daily, or play pickleball 5 times a week. And I can appreciate that there is likely great variety within these activities that perhaps I don’t notice (because I haven’t stuck with them long enough).

Perhaps ultimately it is less about the number of favourite sports and activities we have and more about the mindset we bring to what we do. The idea of novelty-seeking works for me. What works for you?

Composite of multiple sports balls from Wikipedia is CC0.
Finding Ground When Home Is Elusive
fitness

Finding Ground When Home Is Elusive

Mina

Yesterday the home I lived in for 28 years was sold. I will likely never call another place home for as long.

In the past three years, I have moved three times, finally landing where I am now just over two years ago. Still, this place I am now, while it is nice, it is not home. Knowing that I will have to move again, I have resisted many elements of settling in-ness. Because, you know, that would just be more stuff to move. For example, I don’t have measuring cups. Or serving bowls or platters. I don’t have a lasagna dish. Or obscure spices for Ottolenghi’s complicated dishes. Things that used to make me feel like a grown up. A person who has groups of friends over for dinner. Plus, given the current state of affairs here in the United States, where I’ve lived for more than 30 years, I can’t help wondering if I should move home to Canada. Or elsewhere.

All this is in direct conflict with my strong nesting inclinations.

So, how do I find ground, when I have no nest? Okay—that’s a complicated visual. Nests are high in trees. The ground is, well, far below. Still, you get the picture of settling, of nestling after a long flight. Parts of me feel in constant flight and they are tired.

Nest in a pine tree by Luke Brugger on Unsplash

Getting into my body offers my most reliable respite—running, hiking, skiing, biking, yoga, dancing, crossfit, pilates and so on. Of all of these, running outside offers me the most solace. With each step, the earth beneath my feet brings me home to my very physical existence.

For that moment of footfall, I land. Rest my wings. Find ground. Come home to my body. May that be enough. For now.    

Maybe: In the Washing Machine of Life
fitness

Maybe: In the Washing Machine of Life

Mina2 Comments

Last month I wrote about healing rollercoasters. I had planned to write something less turbulent this month. Instead, I’ve gone from rollercoaster to washing machine.

As I write this, over the holiday weekend in Canada, I am surrounded by the Rockies in Canmore, Alberta. I’ve been looking forward to this sojourn for months. The gift of looking up from my computer to see mountains outside my window. And to get out on the trails every day, to trail run, hike and mountain bike.

My fourth day, finishing up a run, I sprained my ankle. Badly. I watched it swell as I hobbled home crying, as if my ankle was being inflated by a bike pump. The physical pain was eclipsed by my mental anguish. Really? Was I going to be imprisoned inside, when just out my door there were miles and miles of forested mountain trails?

What was the universe trying to tell me? What message was I supposed to receive?

I was devastated. Here I am, trying to rebuild my life and instead of three weeks of heavenly nature immersion, I was going to have three weeks of psychic torture and physical pain. Here’s the first message I received: You, Mina, are a detestable person who deserves to be knocked down, repeatedly. Your ongoing, excruciating divorce is not enough. Nor is your financial precariousness, nor the Addison’s Disease. You have still not been punished enough. Yes, even as I was hearing this particular voice in my head, I was fully aware that whether or not I was going to engage with this psychic torture was in my control. Or at least theoretically. It’s easy to say that our state of mind is a decision we make. It’s harder to actually exercise that control.

I have been trying hard to control my mental condition. And for those of you who have read previous posts from me, you know that I was already fully immersed in an effort to visualize my future health (I am actively exploring the potential to heal my Addison’s Disease with a functional medicine practitioner). In that context, injuring my ankle felt like the universe just being plain mean. Understanding that the universe is not personal was my first bit of mental jujitsu. This is not a punishment. I was trail running. And as my friend Kim reminded me, ankles get twisted. This did not happen because I am a bad person. I realigned expectations.

I put flat pedals on my mountain bike and imagined riding around very gently on the flattest ground I could find with the hard plastic sprain boot on my foot. I have some experience with sprained ankles. I’ve also broken my foot, cracked ribs and done quite a number of other things to myself. So, I’m familiar with the healing trajectories.  I was calm. Or resigned. It’s sometimes hard to discern the difference. I knew what to expect. A lot of streaming Pilates at home. A sore hip from wearing the hard boot, which makes one leg longer than the other. Enforced stillness. Restlessness.

At the same time, I redeployed the Gladiator Therapeutics far infrared wave device I’d been using to heal my adrenals, and am now wearing it night and day around my ankle. While I have no idea if it’s actually working for my adrenals, I know it’s been working for my ankle.  How? Because, as incredibly swollen, ugly and wildly-colored my whole foot is, including my toes and my lower leg, I have experienced little pain. Certainly, there’s discomfort when I walk, especially down stairs. My ankle is stiff when I get up from sitting or lying down. And, I can walk on it, progressively more each day. It’s only been 9 days, as I write this and I went out for a 30-minute walk today (wearing flip flops). And I can ride my bike. On anything. Wearing a small ankle compression support and regular running shoes.

On my bike with the Three Sisters in the background. Inspect before riding sign, which made me laugh and was also accurate. And a surprisingly gentle section of the Rundle Riverside Trail.

I have never experienced ankle healing this quickly before. So, now what is the universe trying to tell me? What message am I to receive?  

I feel like I’m living in a washing machine, being savagely bounced around from one emotion to another. I am realigning expectations almost daily.

At this very moment, I am not hiking in British Columbia with my work colleague and friend, Michelle, who I’d planned to meet in person for the first time this holiday weekend. I was so excited to be with her. Michelle was going to drive from Nelson, B.C and we were to meet up in the middle, in Invermere. Instead, I’m alone in Canmore, nursing the enormous disappointment of not connecting with her. And then the washing machine flips me around, and I’m simultaneously ridiculously grateful for the grace of being able to mountain bike and get outside in the mountains, when I thought that would be impossible. Every turn of the pedal, every technical trail section I walk my bike, every mud puddle I splash through, I’m filled to the brim with the sheer unexpected pleasure of communing with nature.

Daily, I spin through a cycle of emotions, from devastation to elation and back again. I keep hoping to be rinsed clean, to spin into stillness, to be hung out to dry in a gentle mountain breeze. I am searching for meaning in what’s happened, for a story of why.   I wonder, is the universe offering me evidence that I can heal? To shore up my faith for the steeper climb to health I’m facing with the Addison’s? Or is the message more straightforward, simple—be grateful for what you can do, it’s not nothing, in fact, it’s a lot of something pretty joyful.

Maybe that’s the story. Or maybe not.

Michelle, my Nelson friend, reminded me of this Taoist story: An old farmer’s horse ran away, so the farmer could not tend his crops. His neighbor said, how awful, to which the farmer replied, maybe. The next day the horse returned, with three wild horses. What good fortune, the neighbor said. Maybe, the farmer replied. The following day, the farmer’s son tried to ride one of the wild horses and was thrown off, breaking his leg. What misfortune, the chatty neighbor said. The farmer replied, as always, maybe. Not long after, war broke out and the army came around to the villages to draft the eligible young men. Not the farmer’s son, who was healing from his broken leg. The neighbor, always quick with his take on any situation, said, well aren’t you lucky. Guess what the farmer replied … Maybe.

The story isn’t over. There’s no clear message. Maybe. In the meantime, I can try to minimize the frustration and be grateful for my body’s (or is it my mind’s?) capacity to heal and move.

Meditation…now with dogs (ok, just 1 dog, really)
dogs · fitness · meditation · mindfulness

Meditation…now with dogs (ok, just 1 dog, really)

Christine Hennebury

Over the past week, I have been choosing to do longer guided meditations in my Insight Timer app.

So, that means that instead of just opening the app and starting the timer, I’ve been searching for new meditations to try.

On Sunday, a typo led to the happy accident of discovering that there are a whole bunch of dog-related meditations mixed in there with the chakra stuff and the nature sounds.

At first I thought it was kind of silly (in a good way!) but then there was something strangely appealing about the idea of doing a dog-related meditation.

After all, dogs are pretty damn good at being in the moment, aren’t they?

And haven’t I often posted a calm picture of Khalee as a good example for myself.

You know, like this one:

A photo of a sleepy dog
Image description: a photo of sleepy Khalee on the quilt on my bed. The photo only shows her head, shoulders, and front paws. Her head is resting slightly sideways one her front paws with one paw sticking out from under it.

So, I figure it’s worth a try.

I can’t seem to link to the meditations in my app but here are a couple from YouTube:

This is a guided meditation to do while petting your dog, to help you both calm down.

‘5 Minute Guided Meditation With Your Dog’ from Marissa Walch. Still image shows the instructor sitting on the floor with her dog in front of her, the dog’s back is to the camera.

And this is a walking meditation to do while, you guessed it, walking your dog:

‘Walking Your Dog Meditation’ from Marie Wilkinson still image shows a stock cartoon image of a brown dog with white paws walking on a leash.

I’m going to give these, and the ones from my app, a try and report back.

Have you tried dog meditation?

What did you think?

PS – Speaking of things that seem silly but are actually kind of cool, maybe your dog will like this calming music as much as Khalee does? I played it for her once when she was agitated because the smoke alarm was beeping (the battery needed changing, there was no peril!) and it really helped.