I've started meditating. Hold the snickers, friends, I know that I've started many things only to give them up. (See: knitting, the no sugar diet, daily exercise, and making adorable flowers out of felt.)
My mother asks, "Notice anything different yet, honey?"
I say, "Mom, I'm trying to divorce myself from outcomes."
So far, the only thing I've noticed is that meditation is to be looking in on one's mind as if peering over a wall to watch the neighbors who are always fighting. Look at them fighting! What an bunch of assholes! You think to yourself: She ought to leave him, except you're experiencing yourself. This is all going on in your mind.
You're instructed to let these thoughts pass like clouds. Well I friggin' can't. I'm lassoing clouds, attached to every memory, anticipating the future, planning, plotting, rubbing my hands together, mwahahaha, and completely out of touch with what I am supposed to be in touch: the present moment.
Breathing. Oh, yeah. That.