Yesterday, lying in the dentist’s chair, while the hygienist
busily scraped, scratched, and prodded around in my mouth with his pointy metal
tools, I realized something:
It was a great time to try meditation.
How else does one calmly and confidently allow a stranger
with sharp, spiky objects to poke about in one of the most sensitive parts of
our bodies?
If there’s another way BESIDES deep breathing to help quell
the suspicion that, with one minor slip, it could get all stabby and bloody
up in my gums, I’m all ears.
Otherwise, it’s inhale,
exhale for me. Like yoga at
your dentist.
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