Over the years, I experimented with meditation a few times, but the practice never quite stuck for more than a few days. Once in a while, an article or a podcast on meditation would catch my attention, but for the most part, meditation seemed like something “nice to do” when you have some extra time. But let’s be honest, who has extra time these days?
At least that was how I felt about meditation until COVID hit last year.
I considered myself very fortunate to continue to have work. My family was healthy. Still, the transition to this new reality, for me as for most people, was a challenge.
I missed seeing my friends, going to restaurants, and doing normal stuff without giving it a second thought. As my work became fully remote, I lost discipline at home. Days went by where I didn’t leave the house. My eating schedule felt off track. My sleep quality suffered. My irritability was off-putting to those around me.
That was when I picked up meditation again.
Since April 2020, meditation has become a daily routine. I decided to stick to it not only because it has helped with my focus and mood, but also because I know that the practice will help me grow.
My practice is quite ordinary. I sit in a chair for ten minutes. Sometimes I follow a guided meditation. Other times I go without. I mostly keep my eyes closed.
What I Learned
On the first anniversary of my meditation journey, I would like to share a few things I learned from the process.
1. Meditation taught me how to observe my thoughts.
Every day when I sit, without fail, a litany of things come to mind, such as:
- Practical things: Places to be, projects to work on, or maintenance tasks to avoid (e.g. clutter in the house);
- Emotional things: Excitement for a new opportunity, anxiety about a work challenge, or disappointment when my expectations are not met;
- Living in the past or the future: Self-criticism of some dumb things I did, judgment for things I didn’t do, or aspirations for the future.
Meditation practice teaches me to observe thoughts like clouds in the sky or cars on the street. There is no need to hold on to a particular thought, just as I don’t have to jump into every car that passes by on the highway. I can notice a thought with a sense of curiosity and accept its existence, without a need to change it.
The idea of observing thoughts without the need to react has been such a helpful insight, especially because my mind always goes haywire.
2. Popping out the “thinking bubble” creates space for clarity.
When lots of emotions swirl in my brain, it sometimes feels like I am in a bubble, where the center is a vortex that powerfully pulls at my attention, leaving no space for anything else.
You might have had a similar experience before — a tiny, inconsequential event becomes all-consuming and derails an entire day. It’s easy to get worked up by a mean comment from a friend, unfair treatment from a colleague, or a thoughtless driver making a dangerous maneuver on the road. Have you asked questions like, “How can this happen?” or, “How is this fair?” or, “How can he be so inconsiderate?” countless times on the same day before?
I certainly have.
One guided meditation I did recently likens the moment of noticing our thoughts as popping out of the thinking bubble. The fascinating thing is that the moment we notice we are thinking, we jump outside of the thought to make that observation.
In that instance, there is a divide between the thought or emotion and us. A space is created where we can see what is going in our mind with a bit of distance and clarity. When that happens, I often laugh at myself and say, “Here I am again, getting sucked into the same narrative I have told myself a thousand times before.”
Popping some of these bubbles has been pretty fun for me.
3. When I reach greater clarity, I have a choice to react or not.
The biggest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another. -William James (an American philosopher and psychologist)
One luxury I indulge in every day is my morning shower. When the water hits my body, a sense of renewal arises. My favorite sensation is getting out of the shower with a clear mind. I’m reminded of a new day ahead of me. No matter what happened the previous day, I can choose to be a better person today.
Similarly, when I observe my thoughts with a sense of clarity, I have options. I can react to the thought, or acknowledge the thought and softly let it go.
This means I have a choice. And no one can take that choice from me. Isn’t that beautifully empowering?
If I don’t want be tied up in strong emotions like fear, anxiety, or anger, I don’t have to be. If I want to get out of the quicksand of self-judgment, self-pity, or pain, I can choose to take a step away from it.
Having a choice is liberating. We get to exercise our free will. I do something because I choose to, not because something pulled me into it.
My biggest challenge is accepting the existence of a thought but not to react to it. When there is a strong emotion, my brain tends to search for a solution and wants to fix the “issue” right away. This is where breathing comes into play as a critical tool.
4. The breath is a home always available to me.
If you had asked me a couple of years ago how often I noticed my breathing, I would probably say, “Almost never, and that is a weird question.”
A high school biology lesson may illustrate how every breath involves dozens of body parts moving synchronously. The diaphragm expands and contracts, rises and falls. Air passes through our nostrils and trachea. Oxygen enters into the bloodstream, generating energy, which gives us life.
Mechanics aside, breathing is a miracle that happens every few seconds. We we take it for granted, barely noticing it.
In most meditation practices, there is an emphasis on the breath. Sometimes it’s referred to as a home base, a familiar place where we can feel safe, secure, and welcome.
When I get distracted by a thought or an emotion, I try to use the breath as a tool to refocus on the meditation. If I manage to pop out of the bubble and choose to let go of certain thoughts, conscious breathing serves as a guide home. When I breathe slowly, I relax.
And guess what? The breath is free and always available to all of us when we need it.
5. I can always start again.
The other day I was overwhelmed by sadness and pain. It was a difficult day that came with lots of emotions. My heart resisted the idea of sitting down. My breath was short, my mind scattered, and my heart heavy. Five minutes into the meditation, I opened my eyes and told myself I couldn’t sit anymore.
It felt like my meditation had failed.
Somehow in that moment, a soft voice reminded me that I had the ability to choose. Leaving the chair was an option, but so was re-starting.
I chose to close my eyes again.
The second half of the meditation was no easier. The cycle of getting pulled by the emotions and re-focusing on the breath repeated itself dozens of times. In the end, I was still distraught by the events of the day.
But afterward, I did feel a little better, partly because of the breathing, but mostly because I decided to stick to the end of the practice. I restarted the practice even though my mind hated the idea. I was proud of myself because I became 0.01% stronger by choosing what was difficult.
Meditation is a space where I can start and restart with no questions asked and no judgement from others. The only person who can stop me: yours truly.
I am an absolute beginner when it comes to meditation. (In fact, it may be better to stay that way, according to Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind.) Meditation takes effort, but the reward has been immense.
I am keeping an open mind as to where it takes me in the upcoming year.