Meditation for writers is really meditation for life. For many years now, I’ve been fascinated with meditation. And whenever something interests me, guess what: I read whole shelves of books on the topic. Most instructional meditation books agree that it can be as simple as following your breath. They also tell you that your mind will wander and that thoughts and emotions will arise. And then they’ll tell you that you just have to let them drift by like clouds on a sunny day and gently let them go. After a few weeks, it will become second nature.
Um. No. It won’t. If your mind’s anything like mine, it’ll insist on bouncing all over the place and refuse to be tamed. I’ve attempted several times to make meditation work for me. I’d last for a few months, half a year even, and then get so disgusted with my inability to focus on my breath for longer than, well, a breath that I’d just give up and follow my thoughts wherever they wanted to go. Then I’d finally decide that this meditation thing, as much as I want it to work, isn’t for me.
Enter Culadasa (John Yates). In his book “The Mind Illuminated”, he starts predictably: Focus on the sensation of your breath. And then he systematically tells you what to expect at each of the ten stages to mastering your mind. But get this – being able to reliably focus on the breath and nothing but the breath doesn’t happen until the end of stage six. You’re not failing at meditation if you don’t get there within a couple of weeks. As long as you’re intentional about it and put honest effort into it, you’re not failing at all. You’re practicing.
The book’s not an easy read. As clear, structured, and well-presented as it is, the material is dense. Culadasa not only gives a scientific underpinning to ancient practices, but also answers questions and addresses problems that might arise at each stage. He tells you how to recognize when it’s time to move to the next stage. It’s all very straighforward and practical. Scientific without being clinical. It was the first meditation book that spoke to me on a deep level. That didn’t oversimplify, rehash platitudes, or make assumptions about my life and my motivations. It completely changed my outlook and my practice.
Up until that point I had managed to sustain a daily 15-minute practice for around nine months, but it was often an afterthought. An item to check off the list. It got done, but not always intentionally or mindfully. The day after I finished reading “The Mind Illuminated“, I started ramping up my time on the cushion from 15 to 60 minutes. And the most surprising thing to me – I haven’t missed a day since, nor have I resented the time spent. Now, granted, it’s only been four months at the time of this writing, but my motivation hasn’t flagged. It’s not a chore to meditate anymore; no longer a should, but a want.
And, no, I haven’t had any blissful experiences or sudden insights. And, yes, my mind’s still all over the place, and I lose myself in thought regularly. This is not a self-help fairy tale. But every time I sit, I sit with the firm intention to bring my mind back to the breath. To be vigilant without becoming tense and overcontrolling. Sixty minutes of practice gives me plenty of opportunities to exercise that vigilance. To bring my attention back to the breath and my awareness to the present.
I haven’t noticed much (if any) progress on the cushion, but I do find that in daily life my focus and attention span have improved and that I’m more motivated to do the hard things. The things that I would normally procrastinate on (okay – procrastinate on longer). And this finally brings me to how meditation has become relevant to my writing: I’m more willing to struggle with the harder aspects of it now. I’m more willing to dig deeper; to stay with the discomfort of my characters and, by extension, my own discomfort.