On Meditation
For most of my life, I measured everything by output – a mindset celebrated by our productivity-obsessed culture. Meditation, with its subtle, almost quiet results, doesn’t fit this narrative.
I still vividly remember the first time my yoga teacher suggested that I meditate. I had taken up yoga for its stress-reduction benefits, though in truth, I was also motivated by a healthy dose of vanity – those yogis looked pretty damn good. In any case, the last thing I was interested in was the “woo-woo” side of things: chakras, chanting, mantras, breathwork, and certainly not meditation.
My work required constant travel, so my yoga sessions were often on Skype. On this particular day, I was in Copenhagen. It was December and bitterly cold, dark, and slightly depressing. Undoubtedly sensing a need, my teacher ended our practice early and suggested that we meditate.
The first thought that flashed was “Meditation? This is going to open me up to all kinds of evil forces.” Once I got past my absurd childhood programming, I followed my teacher’s instructions: assumed a cross-legged position, straightened my spine, and allowed my hands to gently rest in my lap. He set the timer, told me to close my eyes, and to simply notice my breath. Skeptical, I complied.
By the time his phone dinged five minutes later, I had managed to mentally plan my month, make a Christmas list, solve a work issue, and construct a rock-solid argument for why meditation would never fit into my life. What I didn’t do was pay attention to my breathing.
As I opened my eyes, I saw my teacher’s knowing smile. He said, “It was hard, right?” I nodded. He then said it was exactly the same for him and for most people. Meditation is simple, but far from easy. He suggested I try it for a month. Five minutes in the morning and five minutes in the evening – that’s it.
That night, I weighed the potential benefits – lower stress, increased clarity, and heightened intuition. I knew it would require consistency and commitment, but I figured even if the only outcome was lowered stress, that outcome alone would make me more productive at work. So, I decided to give it a try.
In The Science of Meditation, Daniel Goleman and Richard Davidson write that long-term meditators develop altered states of being – becoming permanently kinder, gentler, more patient, and more intuitive. And by long-term, they meant individuals who had practiced for more than ten thousand hours.
At ten minutes a day, I would need 164 years to meet this requirement – a big ask. Even if I could somehow manage to find an hour a day, I would still need about 27 years. I expressed my frustration to my teacher – wasn’t there a hack, or better yet, a pill to shorten this time commitment? He explained that meditation is simply awareness and focused attention. And it could take place in a dark room with eyes closed or during everyday moments in life – at work or while exercising. The key was being able to periodically return one’s awareness to the present moment.
Realizing that I could “meditate” while jogging, folding laundry, or washing dishes somehow made it more palatable. I built meditation into my daily routine – ten minutes in the morning and ten in the evening. I also tried to periodically notice my awareness throughout the day. I didn’t track the actual time spent in meditation, but I figured it was around an hour.
About two years after I implemented this practice, I had the first external confirmation that something had shifted. I was with a friend who I had not seen in months. As we were catching up, he asked about someone who used to trigger me. The mere mention of this individual’s name would often incite a soliloquy of complaints. But when he mentioned the name on this day, I apparently didn’t react at all.
“What just happened?” he asked. I was confused. Nothing had “happened”. I just hadn’t responded yet. He said that rather than tensing as he expected, he could literally see my entire body visibly relax. Like after a long exhale, only I didn’t exhale. He asked if I had reconciled with this individual. I said no. The only thing I could think of that was different was that I was meditating each day.
Ten years on, I still have not had any sort of mystical or out-of-body experience. And I would certainly not claim any permanently altered states. In fact, I would say that it is difficult to point to anything tangible that would prove the time invested in meditation has “paid off”. And yet, it has paid off. In subtle, almost imperceptible ways. I don’t feel different, but I am calmer, more patient, and less stressed. The fascinating thing is that these changes have not arisen by force of will or habit, but by simply taking time each day to still my mind and focus my attention – to meditate.
So, how do we do it? How does one actually meditate? What I have learned is that you don’t need to sit in a special posture, or chant some mantra for hours on end, or light incense, or use an app. You simply need to take a few moments to still your mind and be present. Many people find focusing on their breath to be the most effective technique. But it could be anything – focusing on a feeling, a piece of music, a flower, or even noticing the wind blowing in the trees.
Meditation is awareness – directing our attention away from the noise that surrounds us and toward the quiet of the present moment. You may only be able to find five minutes a day, but those five minutes will have an outsized impact on your life. Try it for a few months. You may not notice any change, but others will. Besides, in an often mad world, don’t we all crave a bit more quiet?