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Meditation
Meditate With Me
Personal Perspective: A diary of one meditation session
Posted March 22, 2024 Reviewed by Davia Sills
Meditation is a topic that comes up often in therapy. It’s a great way to address anxiety and help clients learn to be more aware of the moment they are in, not worrying about what will happen in the future to the detriment of their experience in the present. It can be intimidating, however, and unfamiliar in a way that makes it difficult for some people to engage in it. I am by no means a Zen monk of meditation knowledge or experience, but I have developed my own practice over the years, and I share my experience with clients who I think would benefit from it.
Before I started meditating, it seemed like a mysterious process. I pictured Zen monks sitting crosslegged in silence, experiencing some kind of magical calmness I could only hope to attain. Then I started meditating, and you will not be surprised to hear that my experience was anything but monk-like. I could barely sit still for five minutes as my mind raced with thoughts of to-do lists and past and future grievances, mostly imagined. My foot would fall asleep, and I would question how I was sitting, where I was sitting, and how long I was sitting, all at the same time. I wanted to skip the times I had assigned myself to meditate, and then I felt guilty for wanting to skip them.
From the outside, meditation looked easy, but from the inside, it was a whole different story. It’s like the sausage factory expression, reflecting on how the experience of eating a sausage can be so different from seeing how it actually gets made. I think about how, from the outside, I must look very much at peace when I meditate, while on the inside, my mind is furiously making sausages.
At first, I wanted to learn how to meditate the “right way,” but eventually, I realized this wasn’t going to happen because there was no “right way.” There is only whatever way works best for each of us as individuals. So I stuck with it. And it was a long, slow process, with numerous stops and starts, but eventually, I found a practice that worked for me.
Part of the reason I was able to reach this point is that I learned to accept what I had previously seen as flaws in the process. Now, when my mind races, my foot falls asleep, or I skip a session, I don’t let myself feel bad about it. I accept it as a part of the practice. I remind myself that I wouldn’t expect myself to be able to run a marathon without any training. I would have to start slowly, running a little bit more each day until I reached my goal. Same thing with meditation. It’s a process, not a goal.
In that spirit, I want to share with you what’s going on in my head when I meditate. So, I sat for a 5-minute session and tried to dictate every thought that came up. It certainly made for an atypical meditation experience, but I think you’ll see just how different it can look from the outside versus the inside.
Begin Meditation Session
OK, I just set the timer for five minutes. Breathe deep through the nose, sit up straight, shoulders back… and now notice all the sounds around me. I can hear cars driving by across the street. Coming and going. Now, the birds are chirping outside. Wow, lots of different birds right now. And a car alarm, very faint, I think. Probably not one of the neighbors. Maybe parked a few streets over across from the—
OK, let’s refocus. Breathe deep, exhale, and sit up straight. Picturing a white sandy beach with a blue ocean, maybe a wicker chair, and I’m wearing a straw hat. Drinking a beer. Wait, why am I picturing this? I never do that. Gotta think about something else. Actually let’s try not to think about anything else…
Breathe deep, exhale, and sit up straight. Unclench the jaw; feel the face relax. It’s amazing how much tension I carry in my jaw. It’s no wonder I grind my teeth. Good thing I got that mouthguard to sleep with at night. Gotta take care of my teeth. I should have flossed this morning. That’s all I need are cavities. But it’s been a while since my last one. When did I even have my last cavity?
OK, breathe deep, and sit up straight. Sit in silence. Listen for the silence. There it is. A quiet moment. Now I hear the ticking of the clock. I can’t believe it’s been ticking this whole time, and I’m just now noticing it. I never hear it when I’m sitting at my desk. God, my shoulders are hunched. My posture is horrible at the computer. I should get a standing desk. But they’re expensive. That’s all I need: to spend more money. I still have to pay my AmEx bill…
OK, breathe deep. Sit up straight. Unclench the jaw. Let the jaw hang. God, my eyebrows are so furrowed! Relax the eyebrows, too, the whole face. Just let everything relax. No wonder I’m getting wrinkles; I go around all day with my face all tensed up. Would it even be possible to walk around with a fully relaxed face? I’d probably look like I had plastic surgery or something...
Breathe deep through the nose, exhale, and shoulders back. Sit up straight. Sounds like a truck pulling up outside. It could be Amazon. Hope they don’t leave a delivery for me at the foot of the steps. It could get stolen. Always concerned about that. Have I even ordered anything from Amazon lately? I did buy some sandals for my daughter on Zappos. But she probably won’t like them, so I’ll have to return them, print the shipping label, and order another pair...
OK, breathe deep. Sit up straight. Relax the face. Just sit. Breathe and sit. Birds are still tweeting. Ha, I almost said twerking. So many bad twerking videos on TikTok. Which my daughter is on all the time. Hope she’s not learning to twerk. Should I have a talk with her about that? How do you have twerk talk? She’s be mortified to even hear me say the word twerk.
Alright, breathe deep, relax, shoulders back. Enjoy the silence. Ah, there’s the ticking clock. There must be so much noise in my mind for me not to hear it. Follow the ticking clock. Everything else right now is silent. How could I ever not hear it? How noisy is it in my mind that I can’t hear the tick?
Breathe deep through the nose, sit up straight, and relax the face. Quiet. The sound of a skateboard rolling down the sidewalk outside. I wanted to be a skater so bad when I was a kid but I was horrible at it. Now, if I got on a skateboard, I’d probably fall and break my wrist. Then I’d have to go to the hospital and deal with all the insurance. Am I on a good plan right now? I bet I’m spending too much money. And it’s expensive!
Stop. Breathe deep through the nose, sit up straight, and relax the face. Maybe I’ll count the ticks of the clock: one, two, three, four, five, six… Lots of birds tweeting now. Should I put that hummingbird feeder back up? The one my mom got me. It’s such a cheaply made thing, but she’d like for me to use it. But I don’t want to. Is that bad?
Whoa, OK, breathe deep through the nose, sit up straight, relax the face. My head itches now. Don’t scratch it. Don’t move. Ignore it, and it’ll go away. But it’s not. Starting to tingle. OK, one quick scratch, then back to the breath.
Breathe deep through the nose, sit up straight, and relax the face. And, of course, now that spot I scratched is getting even more itchy. Come on, we can ignore that. Let’s focus on the breath. Breathe one two three, exhale one two three. Sit. Breathe one two three, exhale one two three. When I transcribe this, am I going to write out the numbers one, two, and three, or am I going to use the number symbols 1, 2, and 3? Write them out, I think. Numbers might look weird with punctuation.
Stop. Breathe deep through the nose, sit up straight, and relax the face. And there’s another itch in the same spot. I should be able to ignore it, and it will go away. The itch is all in my mind. But what if there’s a bug on me? What if a mosquito is just about to bite me? Come on, there aren’t any mosquitos around here. But it could be some other insect. Something crawling on my skin at this very moment...
OK, another deep breath through the nose. Hold it a little bit longer, then exhale. And quiet. A moment between traffic when there are no car sounds. That’s a nice moment. And there’s the ticking clock. Yeah, this moment feels good. It’s funny—how I can sit here for so long and only feel like I’m really in the moment every so... the timer goes off. Woohoo, finished!
End Meditation Session
When the timer goes off, my eyes pop open instantly. I’m always a little surprised by the sound, and then by the fact that I was able to make it through the whole session. I usually try to sit for 20 minutes, a number that I’ve worked up to, starting out with five. Sometimes, I’ll cut a session short if I feel like it. I try not to feel guilty about this. And it feels good to give myself permission if I don’t feel like it. But most of the time, I’m able to sit for a whole session.
Reading over this transcript it certainly doesn’t seem like a peaceful, tranquil experience. However, it didn’t feel as chaotic in my mind as it looks on the page. In between all of the runaway thoughts, there are moments of peace and clarity. Brief moments, usually after a deep breath and an exhale, where I felt like how I would imagine those Zen Japanese monks feel.
The rest of the time was spent reeling in those runaway thoughts. Which, as I read it now, looks like it must feel repetitive and frustrating. It doesn’t feel that way when I’m doing it, though. That time spent chasing runaway thoughts wasn’t something to avoid; rather, it was something to strive to eliminate.
That time is the whole point. It’s the mental workout, the training of my brain to stop leaping backward or forward in time and be here in the moment. Think about this if you’re considering starting your own meditation practice. There’s no wrong way to do it. There’s only the way that works best for you, which takes time and effort to discover.
