Magical Meditation

when sitting there is just sitting there

It was a very reverential and sanctimonious process. I would light a single candle placed on the floor, in a room of total darkness. Positioning myself cross-legged, I would set a timer on my phone before chucking it on the bed. The goal was to work my way up to a full hour. In the meantime, I needed more bite-sized chunks - 15 or 20 minutes. But eventually, someday, off in the future, I would be someone who did 60 minutes of meditation, every day, rain or shine. Enlightenment here I come.

I can’t pinpoint an exact age when I did this because I’ve had several bouts of attempted meditation. I’m pretty sure there was a phase in high school (maybe even middle school) and then again in college and then again in my 20s.

These bouts of meditation usually left me feeling frustrated before abandoning completely. Why wasn’t I floating away into the magical land of meditative nothingness? Where was nirvana? Why was it that sitting there only felt like sitting there? My brain wouldn’t shut off like it should. Enlightenment felt lightyears away.

I’ve known about Oak, a meditation app, for awhile. It offers guided and unguided meditation for any duration with soothing ambient sounds to choose from (crackling sauna anyone?). The app, like many others, game-ifies mediation. The user can track their “progress” and unlock badges once they’ve mediated a certain number of sessions. It tracks total hours and the longest daily streak of mediation. I’ve been using it for a few weeks now.

It’s only during this current bout that I’m starting to see some real benefits. Perhaps it’s maturity or perhaps it’s having realistic expectations. What I’m slowly learning, and more importantly, accepting, is that it’s not magic. Thinking it is magic is antithetical to its true nature. The benefits, though, are real but they don’t look how I thought they would. Meditation is ‘hard’ for this reason. At least for me.

As a culture we constantly look for ways to not be where we are, doing what we’re doing, when we’re doing it. We seek out paths to numb or distract or chase or reminisce or project or climb. It’s constant, never-ending. It’s a means to avoid the great uncertainty that is being human. Personally I live in the future. A majority of my waking hours are spent crafting a world just outside of my reach. Sure, it’s usually a hopeful, optimistic, and exciting world but nevertheless it’s a mechanism of escaping uncertainty. My brain spits out a stream of slightly-better what ifs to avoid the what is right in front of me.

The other end of these fantastical pretend realities lies anxiety. If my brain tilts in the other direction, I latch on to less optimistic scenarios. My mind can spiral into darker, more chaotic what-ifs. What if there’s no overhead space on the plane? What if I don’t book this acting gig? What if I never book another acting job again? What if I can’t sell my TV show? What if all my hopes and ambitions are for nothing? What if it all means nothing?

This is where the practical application of meditation comes in, the magic if you will. It gives me a tool to pause the chaos spiral and offers me a ladder out of the pit. I have a break pedal. In my meditation practice, my brain never shuts off. It never comes to a place of pure relaxed nothingness void of thoughts. Instead I’m training my it to redirect. When I’m meditating I’m able to ‘see’ the thought, at least sometimes. Seeing the thought gives me a sliver of time to go elsewhere, to return to my breath. Over and over and over again. So that way, when I’m going about my daily life and slip into a spiral, I have enough wherewithal to pause the chaos, even for a sliver, and bring my mind somewhere else. Ideally I’ll be able to breathe and ask myself what is true?

Usually what is true is that I’m sitting. It’s true that I’m wearing slippers. It’s true that I have a clay mug of blue and gray in my hand. It’s true that the coffee in said mug is lukewarm. With each truth, I sprinkle a little certainty into an uncertain existence. It’s a release valve for the spiral. Bit by bit, I get back into my body.

And that’s the magic of meditation, at least for me. I no longer sit and wait for magical nothingness and enlightenment to be bestowed on me. I don’t meditate to find a far-off kingdom of perfect peace. That’s not how it works in my experience. Instead the magic lies in what I’m able to do when not meditating. It isn’t so much about controlling the mind as it is about not letting your mind control you. A horrendous cliche I realize, but there’s a kernel of truth in it. Another kernel of truth? I need fresh, hot coffee in this blue and gray clay mug.