Three Truths about Meditation

Statue at a Buddhist monastery in Tokyo, Japan.

What do you think of when you hear the word "meditation"? Do you picture long-haired hippies aligning their chakras and getting in touch with their chi? Or maybe you have an app where you can listen to a soothing voice that lulls you to sleep (whether or not that was your intent)? For me, meditation is a practice of planting my rear end on a cushion, sitting in silence, and focusing on my breath. Maybe you've heard that meditation helps people feel less stressed, sleep better, or be nicer to everyone around them. Those are all true, sometimes. Here are three other truths.

1. There isn't a right way to sit. To some, this will be a little sacrilegious. I once meditated at a Zen center in Japan where a monk walked up and down the rows of meditators and whacked us on the back with a stick if we were slumping or distracted. In his monastery, there definitely is a right way. But really, there are as many different postures in meditation practice as there are people. Over the past 10+ years, I've attended retreats with different teachers and groups of students. I've read books and blogs and watched videos, and I've practiced in a dozen different ways. Facing the wall. Facing the room. Eyes open. Eyes closed. Palms on knees facing up. Or down. Or hands forming a circle with my thumbs gently touching. Sitting in a chair or on a zafu (cushion). Lying down. Walking. Some teachers admonish students to not move at all. Others suggest it's ok to make minor adjustments to alleviate distracting pain. Some teachers say you aren't doing it right unless you're sitting in full lotus position. Others say sit in any way that helps you stay still and focused.  
   
   As it turns out, all of these are right. What I have learned is that picking one posture and sticking with it is more beneficial than sitting a new way each time. When I give myself too much freedom ("There's no right way, and I can move if I need to!"), I find myself shifting and fidgeting and flipping my hands around like fish on land. I will find a million things to do with my body instead of being still. Consistency in posture helps make it a habit. It allows my body to become familiar with it and settle in. Which is important because...
   
   
2. It's not exactly fun. For all the spiritual woo-woo and positive benefits it can bring, the actual practice of meditation isn't always fun. Sometimes it's dreadfully boring. Sometimes my knees hurt, or my stomach won't stop grumbling and all I can think about it how much I'd like to eat a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. Sometimes I feel like I will burst from the effort of not moving. I feel antsy and achy and lonely and I wonder why in the world I'm doing it. That's part of why a consistent posture is more beneficial: it gives me one less thing to think about when it's time to sit. One less thing to resist or struggle with. Because sometimes the process will be a struggle. But sometimes...
   
   
3. It really is life-changing. Even my inconsistent-at-best meditation over the last decade has changed me. Returning to this practice again and again and watching my mind has had many and various effects: some brief and profound, others subtler but longer lasting. For one, it's helped me see more clearly how predictable my emotions are. Oh, here comes the resistance because I'm going upstairs to my meditation room. Here comes that craving for cereal. Here is the urge to do anything but sit and follow my breath. The repetitiveness of it is comforting. All emotions, both positive and negative, become like old friends whom I know will come and go through my body. The hottest angers will pass. The bitterest disappointments and the strongest cravings will be temporary houseguests at best. So too will feelings of joy and contentment. Knowing this helps me hold all of them a little more lightly. I've also experienced periods of feeling like my body dissolved into the universe, I've physically felt sounds, I've been filled with a love greater than any normal earthly thing. But these, too, were passing experiences. Maybe they will come again, maybe not. But I do plan to get my butt on the cushion again and again to find out.