Bodily sensations also pop out of nowhere when I meditate. I never knew I had so many little itches and aches until I meditated. I'm sure they are there all the time, but I only "hear" them in the silence of meditation.
This is part of the practice: to notice how the senses dart around from my right leg to my forehead to the pressure of my body against the chair to breath moving in my belly to breath in my nostrils. In Buddha's most famous sutra (teaching) on mindfulness, he said, "Breathing in a long breath, I know that I'm breathing a long breath. Breathing in a short breath, I know that I'm breathing a short breath." As if it doesn't matter how you breath. It just matters that you notice the way it is right now.
I used to think that the goal was to maximize the pleasurable moments--those times when a long deep breath opens the belly, chest and shoulders and then comes out slowly and you feel all the tension melting away. Those moments are fine, but sometimes I find that they will not come unless I first notice the shallow, constricted breathing when I haven't relaxed yet. I notice the aches, the tension that, for some reason, often remains in my legs long after I've deeply relaxed my upper body. When I notice and accept these imperfect sensations, I seem to be able to tune in more deeply to the subtleties of my breathing exactly as it is happening right now. And then I'm more likely to feel the euphoria that sometimes comes with meditation.
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