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. 

Rocking my body. How meditation can affect your health on a deep level

Heart rate line
A weird thing happened to me when I gave blood recently. This isn’t, by the way, a story to encourage you all to donate blood (although you absolutely should). This is about how I discovered that I have the power to control my body in a really powerful way.

Because I once fainted while giving blood, I’m aware of the need to keep my body calm during this important process. In a bid to avoid a repeat performance of the losing-consciousness-then-needing-emergency-intervention-and-vomiting-everywhere situation, I had a genius idea: meditation! What better way to keep my body calm and well out of shock territory?

This was not a good idea, as it turns out. What happened was, my heart rate dropped so low that alarm bells started going off – literally! – and the staff rushed over to check that I was not on the verge of fainting. (I wasn’t.) That’s when I realised it might be a good idea to keep my heart rate fairly fast so it can pump blood effectively.

Guys, I slowed down my own heart rate! This is an incredibly empowering realisation. There’s plenty of scientific research out there to prove that meditation can calm your entire body but it’s something else to actually see that happen. Not only did this confirm to me that meditation is a wonderful tool (when used in the right setting; ie not in a blood-donation situation), it’s also a reminder that my heart responds directly to what my brain tells it.

So maybe I should be telling it to open up more. To trust. To dance. To take risks. To light the way forward.

This reminds me of a beautiful passage from Paulo Coelho’s book The Alchemist – a book I adore so much that it would be a desert-island item for me – about talking to your heart: "Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself."

I think I’m going to do that more often now.