on meditation

I think one of my favorite days on earth (other than the day my son was born) was on a walk with my sober dog Shorty. I had about a year of sobriety at the time and was not doing much more than listening to classical music, watching movies at night, going to meetings and walking with Shorty in the woods. We lived in a loft in Snedens Landing and would go straight down Woods Road into Tallman State Park. One day Shorty and I were just walking. It was the very end of summer. Perfect summer. No humidity, sunny, warm but not too warm and it may have even been in September because the leaves were just starting to change and there is no special thing on the surface that happened. Shorty was on his leash. I walked behind him just looking up at the trees and all around us in the woods on our path. And for a moment or two I was one with the world. With the trees, with the woods, with the bushes, the air, the sun, the sky. I often think of that feeling. To me that is meditation. Losing myself. I can't tell you how to get it back. What I do know is I have never felt that feeling while shopping on Madison Avenue or when I was on a quest for something material. Usually that feeling comes when I am in nature. Walking along the river perhaps. It can also happen to me when I am listening to classical music. So it can happen in a concert hall. But usually at the symphony I am thinking about what I am wearing and our seats and if the woman or man behind me can see and it is more difficult to just become with the music. But it can happen. I once heard at a meeting that if you listen to music you have an easier time meditating. It takes your mind away from itself which is key of course so that my mind can go where it needs to go. It has also happened to me (something I call getting access to my unconscious) when I have been writing. I sort of leave myself and do not think but words are coming out of me onto the page. What a great gift. Is that meditating?