I Tried Meditation and Now I’m Mad at a Tree

I Tried Meditation and Now I’m Mad at a Tree

By: A Calm Person. Mostly.

      [ The Jobless Blogger ]

Everyone says meditation is life-changing. "It’ll center you," they said. "You’ll find your inner peace," they said. What they didn’t say is that you may end up screaming internally at a tree while trying to “become one with nature.”

So last Sunday, after watching a 12-minute video of a woman meditating on a rock in the Himalayas (and another 9 minutes of me debating whether I’m spiritually shallow), I decided I needed to give it a shot. I found a local park, dusted off my yoga mat—which previously functioned only as a base for my laundry basket—and headed out like a wellness warrior.

I picked a quiet-ish corner under a tree. A majestic, old oak. It looked peaceful, wise… the kind of tree that probably wrote poetry in its spare time. I sat down, crossed my legs, placed my hands on my knees in the “ohm” position, and closed my eyes.

That’s when the real test began.

First, my brain started listing everything I’ve ever done wrong. Not in chronological order—just an aggressively random highlight reel. That one time I waved back at someone who wasn't waving at me? Check. That email I sent with “see attached” and forgot the attachment? Double check. The time I said "you too" when the waiter said “enjoy your movie”? It all came back with surround sound.

Then the bugs arrived.

Nothing ruins your inner stillness like wondering whether the tickle on your leg is a leaf or a beetle with boundary issues. I peeked. Beetle. Named him Carl. He was judgmental.

Still, I pressed on.

I tried to focus on my breath. Breathe in peace, breathe out stress. Breathe in—bonk. Something landed on my head. Something with weight. A seed? A nut? A small woodland creature? My eyes popped open.

It was an acorn.

The tree had dropped an acorn on me.

Now, I don’t want to make accusations without evidence, but the timing was suspicious. I stared up at the branches. Was this passive-aggressive? Did I pick the one tree that doesn't believe in mindfulness? I tried to let it go.

And that’s when a nearby child pointed at me and asked loudly, “Why is that lady sitting on the ground doing nothing?” Honestly, fair question, kid.

After 15 minutes of trying, I packed up my mat and ego, both slightly bruised. I walked back to my car with a bug bite on my ankle, a twig in my ponytail, and a renewed respect for monks.

Do I feel more centered? Kind of. Mostly I just feel itchy and slightly betrayed by flora.

But I’ll try again next week. Maybe indoors. Away from judgmental trees.