I used to roll out of bed and meditate in my room.
However, in August of 2020, my boy died in his sleep of an overdose after years of struggle with mental health and addiction. From that day to now, I’ve gone into his room every morning to read and meditate. It helps me claim that space, my grief, and my memories of him. Of course, it has not improved my taste in pajamas.
Want to submit a photo and your story for the Snapshots of Meditation? Send it here: editor@thetattooedbuddha.com
Were you moved by this post? You might also like:
The Faces of Meditation: Max Wong
The Unanticipated Waves of Grief
Comments
- Why I Became Buddhist - March 25, 2026
- Perfectly Imperfect: Life is One Continuous Mistake - February 23, 2026
- No Flights to a Prison State: A Global Call to Boycott Travel to Myanmar - February 19, 2026