For many years, I thought meditation was something I needed to get better at.
I would sit down, close my eyes, and wait for my mind to become quiet. Within seconds, I would remember an email I hadn’t answered, something I needed to buy, a conversation from three days earlier, or an imaginary conversation that might happen next week. Then I would notice that I was thinking and become annoyed with myself for not meditating properly.
Sometimes the entire meditation became a struggle between the mind I had and the mind I thought I was supposed to have.
It took me a long time to understand that perhaps the wandering mind wasn’t interrupting the meditation.
Perhaps noticing it was the meditation.
The Person We Rarely Sit With
We spend enormous amounts of time with ourselves, yet surprisingly little time actually being with ourselves.
There is usually something occupying our attention. A screen. Music. Work. Conversation. News. Plans. Even when we are alone, our minds are often somewhere else.
This isn’t necessarily a problem. Life is full, and there is much to enjoy.
But I’ve begun to appreciate what happens when nothing is competing for my attention.
At first, the mind becomes louder.
Thoughts I haven’t finished thinking return. Feelings I haven’t completely felt become noticeable. Sometimes there is restlessness. Sometimes boredom. Occasionally something uncomfortable rises to the surface.
I used to think these experiences meant meditation wasn’t working.
Now I wonder whether they mean it is.
When the noise outside becomes quieter, we finally begin hearing what has been happening inside.
You Don’t Need to Empty Your Mind
One of the biggest misconceptions about meditation is that we are supposed to stop thinking.
I’ve never been particularly successful at that.
The mind thinks. That’s what minds do.
Trying to force it into silence can become another form of resistance, no different from trying to force sadness away or demanding that anxiety disappear.
What if meditation isn’t about emptying the mind?
What if it is about changing our relationship with what appears there?
A thought arises.
We notice it.
An emotion appears.
We feel it.
A sensation moves through the body.
We become curious.
Then, rather than following every experience wherever it wants to take us, we gently return to the breath, the body, or simply the awareness of sitting here.
Again and again.
There is something remarkably forgiving about that practice.
Every time we wander, we are allowed to return.
Sitting Without Fixing
This may be the part of meditation that has become most meaningful to me.
For a few minutes, nothing needs to be fixed.
I don’t need to become more productive.
I don’t need to solve tomorrow.
I don’t need to improve myself.
I can simply notice what is here.
Some days what is here feels peaceful.
Other days it doesn’t.
Both belong.
The practice is not creating the perfect experience. It is learning to remain present with the experience we actually have.
In many ways, that is the heart of becoming your own healer.
Before we change, we listen.
Before we judge, we notice.
Before we run away, we stay for a moment.
A Short Practice
If you’d like to experience this rather than simply read about it, find somewhere comfortable to sit. You don’t need a meditation cushion or a perfectly quiet room. Let your body settle naturally and allow your breathing to remain easy.
Silently say:
Activate Self-Healing.
Then notice that you are breathing.
You don’t need to breathe differently. Simply feel one breath arriving and one breath leaving.
Notice your body sitting here. Feel the weight of it. Notice where your feet, legs, or back meet whatever is supporting you.
Sooner or later, a thought will appear.
When it does, don’t criticize yourself.
Simply notice, thinking.
Then come back.
If an emotion appears, let it be present without immediately explaining it.
If nothing interesting happens, let that be enough too.
Stay for a few minutes.
There is nowhere else you need to reach.
The Wisdom of Returning
The Heart Sutra has taught me many things, but perhaps one of its simplest lessons is that we suffer when we become trapped by what passes through our experience.
Thoughts arise and change.
Feelings arise and change.
Sensations arise and change.
We don’t need to hold onto every one of them.
Meditation gives us a small place to practice letting that movement happen.
Not escaping life.
Not transcending our humanity.
Simply learning how to sit inside our own experience without being carried away by every wave.
And then returning.
To the breath.
To the body.
To this moment.
To ourselves.
A Thought to Carry Into the Week
You don’t need to meditate perfectly.
You don’t even need to feel peaceful.
Try sitting quietly for five minutes and allow yourself to have whatever experience arrives.
When your mind wanders, come back.
When it wanders again, come back again.
Perhaps healing isn’t found in never losing ourselves.
Perhaps it is found in becoming very good at finding our way home.