One topic of conversation in the MBSR class I’m taking has been how to keep up with our home practice. We’re now meditating for 45 minutes at a pop, and fitting it in has been increasingly burdensome.

Some people in the class have even been finding it hard to remember to do the exercises at all. I don’t have a problem on weekdays because meditating before work has become a habit. But on weekends, when I don’t have a schedule, I sometimes put it off and then find myself late at night reminding myself I need to practice before bed. A few slices of pizza and a glass of wine make me want to lie down and go to sleep, not sit upright cross-legged on a meditation cushion. So I’ve been trying to make morning meditation a weekend habit as well.

At the request of some of the group members, our instructor has been sending out reminders to prompt us to practice mindfulness. Call me childish, but his missives seem to have the opposite effect on me. Instead of getting jazzed up and motivated, I find myself irritated by the directives. My inner teenager starts rolling her eyes and acting sullen like my son used to do when I’d ask if he’d practiced his trumpet.

I guess I’m suffering from a case of mindfulness burnout. So I have to remind myself I’m practicing meditation out of choice, not obligation, and get on with it anyway,

But tonight I need to fortify myself for our daylong meditation retreat tomorrow. I’m planning an evening on the couch, watching Nashville reruns and mindlessly stuffing myself with potato chips straight from the bag.