Some Thoughts on Meditation

This morning I biked to Grandstaff Canyon to hike. At the soaring natural sandstone bridge that marked the end of the trail, I found myself alone for a short while, and sat on a flat rock to meditate.

It makes for an idyllic picture, but the truth is that meditating under “America’s sixth longest natural bridge” felt pretty much the same as meditating anywhere else. That’s the cool thing about meditation: it is a home you can bring anywhere you go.

I usually meditate roughly in the Anapana way, which I learned during the ten-day Vipassana course I took last year. It’s the first step of learning Vipassana (It doesn’t take the whole ten days to learn just the Anapana technique, so don’t let that stop you). I simply focus on the sensation of breathing, particularly, the feeling of air coming in and out of my nose. I like the simplicity of it. From experience, I know that something beneficial is happening while I do it, even if it is not as noticeable as cognition.

After a year of many conversations and musings about meditation, I want to share some thoughts I’ve had about it.

The difference between meditation and meditative activity

Spending many hours biking and hiking alone has given me ample time to continue considering how meditation is different from a meditative activity. I find long bike rides and hikes meditative: they are often calming and mind-clearing, but it’s still a very different experience than meditation. When I am moving, I am getting constant, changing stimuli that I intend to pay attention to, lest I trip or collide. It’s a lot easier to pay attention to the road or the path than the subtle sensations of my breathing. I may be giving my mind a break from a lot of the stuff I might otherwise be thinking about, but I’m not paying full attention to what I am feeling, so I am not getting the benefits of that. For a while, when I felt like I didn’t have time to meditate, I sort of convinced myself that long bike rides were achieving the same effect. I’m no longer fooling myself on that: cycling isn’t meditation any more than running is therapy. Meditative motion and meditation are different, each with their own merits. They’re both important to my wellbeing.

Meditation doesn’t turn you into someone else—it makes you more yourself.

As with many things, it seems like people sometimes label themselves as “not the kind of person who meditates” and refuse to really try it. Perhaps they think of some stereotype of a meditator, a modern-day Buddha, someone who goes to yoga thrice a week, never gets angry, and possesses endless self-control and generosity. “That’s not me! And what’s wrong with the way I am, anyway?”

To them I would say: meditation doesn’t turn you into someone else (if only it were that easy, haha). In my experience, meditation makes me more myself. I feel like the qualities that make me myself are stronger and clearer from meditating, not muted or rounded down. I think this is generally true for other people, too. We aren’t brainwashing ourselves into being the same implacable stone statue. My experience is not the same as Peter Kalmus’ (who I quoted in my Vipassana post), or anyone else’s. Through meditation, we are being our unique selves, even more clearly than before. There is no change to be afraid of, only change to look forward to.

Meditating with others is a unique and valuable experience

I like to meditate with other people. It’s interesting: a mode of interaction that has the least interaction possible. It might seem difficult or impossible to enjoy one another’s company without looking, speaking, or touching, but I found that I can, very much! The simple action of spending time together, with the common goal of being more in touch with oneself, is so meaningful. It haven’t gotten to interact with most people I know in this way, so I appreciate the opportunity to and hope to meditate with many more of my friends in the future.

It’s very helpful for accountability as well: it’s much easier to throw in the towel prematurely when you’re meditating alone.

Any amount of meditation is better than none

Meditation helps abate the all-or-nothing, frantic mindset that I’ve struggled against for a long time. Although it doesn’t dominate my mind, it creeps in at times. Just a five-minute meditation reminds me that life doesn’t need to go so fast, I have the power to redirect my attention at just about any time I choose, and that simply starting is powerful.

The memory of the ten-day Vipassana course is helpful to me

After that course, I wrote that the changes in how I felt were very subtle. In retrospect, they were still significant. It’s just that I still felt like very much the same person, so I described them as subtle differences. But the sense of calm and less reflexive state of mind was quite dramatic, in retrospect. I feel that it is very valuable that I got to access that state, because now I can remember what it’s like, which doesn’t portal me there exactly, but helps vault me closer.

I still love clouds.

My life-changing appreciation for clouds that was sparked on that ten-day course is still alive and well, only a little bit faded. I suppose the day when I look up at a fabulous cloud assortment and feel nothing, I’ll know that I’m overdue for another ten-day. 🙂

I’ll end it here for now. Love from Moab!