Confessions of a crap meditator

Woman meditating in a busy streetWhen my mother was a child, she enrolled in ballet lessons, full of enthusiasm… then quit after a month because they wouldn’t teach her how to dance Swan Lake. I’ve always loved this anecdote, not only because it brilliantly illustrates that self-righteous indignation particular to pre-teen girls, but also because I can understand her objection to pursuing an activity she didn’t immediately excel at.
Generally speaking, I go out of my way to avoid things I’m not good at – budgeting, walking in heels, samurai-sword fighting (admittedly this last one is not an everyday problem). But meditation has been the one thing I continue to do even though I fail at it again and again and again.

In a world which focuses on results, success and achievement, committing every day to doing something I have yet to improve at feels a little, well, pointless. But that’s exactly the point. 
My daily meditations go from 10 to 20 minutes. Approximately 45 seconds in, my attention starts to wander. I’ll be breathing slowly and deeply, feeling my body start to relax, then my mind will panic about not being in control. Then it stages a takeover bid. Is that rain outside? I need to renew my domain name soon. Did I ever reply to Mum’s text? What kind of weird-arse bird makes that sound? 
Woman in meadow meditating
Here are some strategies I’ve employed at various points in a bid to stay focused on my practice: repeating mantras, letting go of my thoughts as soon as they appear (trying to let them simply pass), concentrating on each part of my body and letting it relax, using guided meditations. These are sometimes effective, sometimes not. I can proudly declare that I have been meditating almost every day for about three years and am just as crap today as the day I started. 
I’m telling you this because whenever I deliver a message from the angels about the need to meditate, nine times out of 10 I will get this response: ‘I’m no good at meditating’. I’m sure there are lots of holier-than-thou spiritual types who will tell you how good they are at meditating, but I’m a very realistic spiritual type. So here’s the truth: I’m no good at meditating. And this is not a reason not to continue with my practice. It’s actually an excellent reason TO do it. 
The philosophy of meditation is that there is no ‘good’ or ‘bad’ meditation practice – it’s the process itself that matters. You’re discouraged from putting a judgment on the quality of the practice. It’s normal for thoughts to appear in your brain – in fact, it’s almost impossible to clear your mind of all thoughts – the trick is not to engage with those thoughts. If you can resist that, you’ll go deep and experience the level of calm that will melt your stress and change the shape of your day. Zen monk Shunryu Suzuki explains it as follows: “In [meditation] leave your front door and back door open. Let thoughts come and go. Just don’t serve them tea.”
The theory’s good, the practice, less so.
I have had some sublime moments while meditating. A few times I have felt myself lifting right out of my body. I had a sense of floating above in a divine light. It lasted mere seconds but I have never forgotten that feeling. 
Businesspeople meditating on a mountainsideI’ve also had very clear messages from my intuition while meditating that have proved immensely helpful in my life, which is a major reason I persevere with it, even though I am often frustrated by my tendency to lose focus and my frequent struggle to let go completely.
The inescapable truth is that even when I feel like I haven’t had a particularly beneficial meditation, I still feel better than I would have if I hadn’t meditated at all. I feel calmer, more centred and fractionally more powerful. Even wine can’t do that (although, sometimes it momentarily fools me into believing it can). 

If you’re struggling with meditation, feeling like you’re doing it wrong or that you’re just not spiritual enough, I feel you. But you’re going to have to come up with a better reason not to commit to this hugely powerful, transformative activity. In a loud, crazy-busy and confusing world, we all need periods of stillness like we never have before. Even when you lose, you’re actually winning. So keep trying, keep failing. You will be better for it. 

RELATED POSTS: Mind and matter – how meditation has changed my world 
Rocking my body. How meditation can affect your health on a deep level

The people you carry with you (and those you wish you could drop)

Back view of people hugging on a beach
“Once in a while I return to the fold of people I call my own.”
If ever you should find yourself adrift in a moment you can’t put words to, I guarantee there is a Finn lyric that will do the job.
The beautifully simple piece of lyrical mastery above, which has always stayed with me (as good songwriting should), is from a 2006 Finn Brothers song called Won’t Give In. To me, this is about the way our most treasured humans anchor us in time and space, shaping our sense of identity and shoring up our sense of purpose. Last week I returned to my homeland and spent a delicious week with family and friends, and I observed, not for the first time, the effect that being in their presence had on the rhythm of my heart. I felt lighter, I felt held. I remembered how much the humans around me make me want to be a better human.

And then I remembered that some of the people who make me a better human are not among my inner sanctum. Actually, some of the people who’ve taught me the most are people I wish I’d never met.
Instagram, that dubious temple of modern spirituality, is rife with quotes about the importance of spending time with the ‘right’ people. Your vibe attracts your tribe! Surround yourself with people who lift you up! Unfollow people in real life! These snappy catchphrases are all helpful... but also unhelpful, I think, because they implore you to judge people’s inherent worth (which rather undermines that whole spirituality ethos, no?) What’s more, they don’t account for the fact that it’s not always possible to ditch the people who don’t behave in ways you want or expect (particularly if you live with said people), and that many of those folks have probably been brought into your life for a reason. 
Woman's face, looking annoyedLook, people are dicks sometimes. And that’s not a bad thing. Because dickery (prob not a real word, but let’s go with it) can teach us plenty. The bloke who pulled out from a side street in front of you teaches you why being considerate on the roads is important, and why you need to pay more attention while driving. The workmate who took credit for your efforts teaches you why it’s important to acknowledge people’s achievements, and that you need to make your boss more aware of your contribution. The date who never called you back teaches you why it’s important to treat people fairly, and what you’re *not* looking for in a partner. Yes, it would be ideal if these people weren’t in your orbit – but that’s not how the Universe works. Mostly it gives you the people you need, not the people you want (although, I am sure, you have plenty of those in your life too). 
Law of attraction pioneer Louise Hay believes that the reason certain people annoy us is because they remind us of aspects of ourselves we find uncomfortable. I have found this to be true in many cases. About five years ago while reading You Can Heal Your Life, I had a friend who constantly interrupted people, made bitchy comments behind people’s backs and engaged in one-upmanship. You may wonder why I was friends with this person. (I wonder that too, actually.) She was part of a group of girls I’d been close with since university days and I felt a sense of loyalty to her. Even so, I often found her behaviour infuriating, until (after reading Louise’s insight) I realised how many times I did the same shitty things. Ouch. I, too, interrupted others. I definitely gossiped about my friends. And a tendency towards competitiveness, driven by a fear of lack, is one of my least attractive qualities.  Even though this girl is no longer my friend, I consider her one of my teachers because she spotlighted areas I needed to address in order to become a better person – and ultimately showed me how I didn’t want to live. I’m not saying I don’t occasionally do these things still, but I’m getting pretty good at calling myself out when I do.
Think about the person who is really grinding your gears at the moment, and ask yourself honestly whether you are replicating their behaviour or attitude in some way, even at a low level. This won’t always prove to be the case – and it certainly doesn’t excuse their bad behaviour – but if you realise that they are mirroring you in some way, that may help diffuse your anger slightly and help you look at the situation (and yourself) differently.
Silhouettes of people having fun and posingYou don’t have to put up with irritating, inconsiderate or just plain rude behaviour but if it’s not possible for you to cut someone out of your life, reflecting on what you can learn from the situation might make it more tolerable.

Above all else, what can be most helpful is remembering that we are all dicks sometimes. I know I am. Happily, when human contact becomes too exhausting, you can always return to the fold of people you call your own. And you should, as often as you can.