Jun 28 2007
Meditation made me crazy
For years, the No. 1 task on my daily to-do list was precisely the same: Meditate.
It seemed a simple thing to do, a small investment in time and effort that would yield big payoffs in terms of peace of mind and better health. So I read books on Eastern philosophy. I listened to self-help tapes, took how-to classes, and consulted with a spiritual adviser. I invested in a meditation pillow, a shawl, candles, prayer beads, crystals, incense, statues, and Tibetan singing bowls. I wrote articles about meditation, and even edited a magazine on the topic (that being Yoga Journal). The only thing I didn’t do–at least not in a consistent way–was park my tush on the cushion and get that to-do done.
Why not? Because my mind naturally likes to complicate everything, I made meditation a BIG DEAL. I started to cycle through a series of esoteric practices far too advanced for someone in my starter-spirituality phase to master, and was therefore practically guaranteed to fail. On some level, I was also scared of what I might find under the surface whirl and eddy of my thoughts. “I want to meditate,” I told myself and anyone else who would listen, “but I can’t.”
This went on for nearly 10 years, the carrot always visible, but never quite within my grasp. Finally, my friend Jane Tarver, a seasoned Buddhist practitioner, stopped the madness. “Oh, knock it off,” she said (wisely and compassionately, of course). “Just sit still and count your breaths. When you get to 42, get up. That’s all you have to do. It’s no big deal.”
Article Source: Other Authors
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