Thirty Days of Doing Nothing (and Why I’m Finally In)

[mike_n_3994]

Let’s be honest: sitting still for twenty minutes is somehow harder than running a marathon. My brain treats a meditation cushion like a launchpad for every unresolved thought from my twenties. But I’m in for the 30-day challenge. Who else?

At 47, I’m officially trading church pews for yoga mats. My deconstruction phase has been a lot of unlearning and even more relearning. I’ve been using Jungian psychology and tarot as my new compass. When I meditate, I’m not just “clearing my mind.” I’m practicing what Jung called shadow work—facing the parts of myself I’ve spent decades suppressing. In tarot terms, it’s like pulling The Hermit: stepping back from the noise to find clarity. Sometimes it feels more like pulling Death or The Tower—old structures collapsing so something new can emerge.

Living in Tucson, the desert heat outside mirrors the internal furnace of a grad student’s workload. I’ve found that a consistent 30-day streak isn’t about achieving zen. It’s about showing up for the messy middle part. The “inner committee” of doubts, old dogma, and academic stress doesn’t vanish. It just learns to sit quietly in the corner while I breathe.

If you’re looking for a magic pill, skip this challenge. But if you’re willing to sit with the discomfort, track the patterns, and maybe pull a few tarot cards to name the archetypes showing up in your sessions, I’d love to see you here. Who’s in?

I’ll be posting weekly check-ins: breath counts, shadow notes, and which tarot cards keep reflecting my meditation state. Let’s normalize the fact that “doing nothing” is actually the hardest thing to do well. I’ll keep my updates wry and lightly self-deprecating—because pretending I’ve achieved enlightenment is just another form of ego. See you on the cushion.