Meditation, morning

In the din of the gym, music on at full volume, feet pounding on the treadmill, sweat pouring down my face. The lady by me suddenly turns to me and says “Meditation has given me so much strength. Just a few moments at the beginning of each day with God and his grace has poured in to my life. Why don’t you try it?”
Now, I’m a habitual cynic and a hardnosed rationalist, and if something cannot be measured and quantified and proved, I tend to disbelieve. However, this lady is one of the best doctors in town besides being someone I truly respect. So I tell myself, why not give it a try?
So I’m up early next morning perched on a chair in the balcony, wondering how to start, what to concentrate the mind on.
I look around, feeling a trifle sheepish, wondering what on earth I’m up to.
I take a deep breath – Mmm the air sure smells different at this hour - crisp and clean with a hint of incense from the pooja next door. The sun rises, and probably the beauty of the world at this hour, the shifting from darkness to light inspires the birds to sing. I hear the cheep cheep of a sparrow, the harsh caw of a crow on a coconut tree as he surveys his domain, and the distant sweet melody of the koel.
My eye falls on the tulsi plant – its barely there fragrance, the subtle green, and the shape of the leaf bearing the signature of the maker. A warm rain falls upon us like a benediction.
I begin the day with a sense of gratitude, and the reflection that perhaps meditation is not a matter of closing your eyes, but getting them to really open.