Sex, Lies & Meditation
I have a confession to make: my most important relationship started with a breakup.
You see, my love affair with meditation began way back in 2005, years before Instagram was even a thing.
Since then I’ve spent far more time with my breath than with any other living being. Today we have a solid thing - we spend time together daily. A long-term commitment that I can no more imagine being without than I could living without books, hot baths or decaf oatmilk lattes.
But it wasn’t always this way.
In fact, my liaison with meditation started a lot like many of my previous romantic relationships: with high hopes, and a tremulous fear that this, too, might not work out.
Plus, it was never my plan.
One minute I was getting dumped by text by a dark, duplicitous and handsome Greek engineer while I sadly sat in my VW in front of his four-story apartment building. The next I was sprawled on my best friend’s oatmeal-colored couch for a full week of Friends reruns, home-cooked meals and more ugly cries than most people have in a lifetime.
But after that, I ate a big, fat, juicy reality sandwich, the likes of which I’d never yet tasted. It was a meal so nourishing, satisfying and unexpected that it has continued to nurture me nearly two decades later. It was the kind of reality sandwich that had the flavor of accountability, the sauce of compassion and a juicy patty of self-responsibility.
Rather than getting back on the dating horse which had previously been my M.O., I was finally able to taste the truth that it wasn’t that guy or the one before that (or the one before that, sigh) that was the problem.
The problem was me.
And if the problem was me, it was as clear as daylight on the Aegean in the middle of the summer, that the solution must be me, too.
I dialed up the 14.4 mbps internet connection, searched “stress, “depression” and “anxiety” and up popped the answer:
Meditation.
With nothing to lose, and a whole lot of willingness-fueling desperation, I found my way to the meditation center in downtown Athens. It was in a drab building from the 1970s behind the touristy restaurants filled with rosy faced Britons drinking beers and Greek salad just back from holiday in Rhodes and tiny shops crammed with everything from calendars with the cats of Santorini to pre-wrapped boxes of baklava ready to be shoved into suitcases for folks heading back to New Jersey.
The center was small, no more than a single room actually. There was a large golden Buddha statue in the back of the room, plus a number of cushions and chairs. A young guy with light brown hair welcomed me. I suspiciously eyed the donation jar ready for them to sink their hooks into me. My stomach was clenched. Thoughts were spinning in my head like the tornado in the Wizard of Oz. It felt as if my skin was translucent and everyone could see right into me.
“Oh geez. Here we go again with the religion and money thing,” I muttered to myself rolling my eyes in my head.
But I was desperate and had already made the trek across town in a very packed Athens-bus so I figured I should stay.
The warmth in the space tasted like generosity. Not saccharine and fake in a cloying Hostess Twinkies sort of way. But kind, open, inclusive. It was … different. But also oddly natural. More like orange-blossom honey atop Greek yogurt with walnuts on a warm summer afternoon.
Then the teacher showed up. As luck would have it, he was tall, dark and handsome, with clean cut hair and a natty light blue cashmere sweater. Kostas was his name. Later I would find out he was a professional artist and unattached.
“AHA!,” I thought … “maybe there is something to this meditation thing …”
After some small talk, when the time came for the main event, we stood up while he took the few symbolic steps in the small room and got up on the teaching seat. A small table was next to him with a photograph of an old Tibetan monk in a yellow and saffron-colored robe and a glass of water. There was a small bunch of fresh pink, white and red flowers, too.
I was in so much pain that day, I’ll never know exactly what he said.
Three Reasons Why I Keep Meditating
But there were three things that intrigued me enough for me to want to go back.
First, he talked about attachment (and aversion) as the source of all suffering, and that mindfulness and other forms of meditation could help with that. Images came flooding at me of things I was obsessed with: the engineer with the dark eyebrows, coffee ice cream, chocolate, my body image, my mother on the West Coast, finally getting my hair under control, figuring out why I often felt like a space alien who didn’t belong here. Each of these situations was one where attachment had led to great pain. I had no interest in Buddhism, meditation or being some spiritually enlightened master. But I was in searing pain, and these words were medicine.
The second thing I heard the teacher say got right to the heart of my New Jersey skepticism:
“Don’t take my word for it. Try these teachings out for yourself. Accept nothing on faith alone, regardless of who tells you. Verify it with your own experience, or you must reject any teaching.”
As a child of the 80s, growing up constantly thinking about the possibility of global thermonuclear conflict during the height of the Cold War, I’d been raised on Reagan’s words of admonition when negotiating disarmament treaties with the Soviets:
“Trust, but verify”.
Rather than telling me to believe and have faith in what I was hearing, I was told to check it out myself and do my own experimenting. This was a spiritual path I might be able to do business with. When other spiritual and religious paths had told me to have faith and believe - and all I could see was evidence of war, poverty, misogyny, and greed (in their names) here was someone who told me I needed no belief at all. He was speaking my language.
Third, when I closed my eyes and tried to meditate, I felt better.
Yes, my head was spinning with thoughts like a gang of whirling dervishes drunk on cheap red wine. No, of course I couldn’t control or empty my mind like I thought I was supposed to be able to do. And, yes, sometimes all I did was close my eyes and think about the guy with the dreadlocks and glasses that came to class and smelled like cat pee.
But even that very first time I sat with my breath, something began to change. I felt a little less anxious, a tiny bit more at peace. For those few precious moments of practice, I could begin to get a break from the incessant mind chatter that followed me as faithfully as my shadow.
Once again, I fell in love.
And that’s why I keep practicing today. Because beyond all the many health, psychological, spiritual and mental benefits, I do it because I love meditation like a lover I can’t wait to be with, wrap around my arms and smother with wet kisses.
Definition of Mindfulness
But what exactly is mindfulness anyway?
Right mindfulness is one of the elements on the eight-fold path to liberation taught by the historical Buddha 2500 years ago.
One of my favorite secular definitions is from Jon-Kabat Zinn, the founder of Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction at the University of Massachusetts Medical Center, who says that mindfulness is “paying attention, on purpose, in the present moment without judgment”. If you are reading this blog post and can feel your body or breath, too, then it is likely that you are practicing mindfulness. Hooray! If you’re reading it thinking about the conversation from your doctor that you need to cut out gluten, that you need a lawyer or have to get a birthday card for your colleague next week, you might not be.
Until, that is, you realize you are no longer present and come right back to what is here, in this very moment, right now. And you notice it without judging it as good or bad, but just as what is happening because it is already right here.
Benefits of Mindfulness Meditation
Let me say straight off that you don’t have to fall in love with meditation (or even like it much to begin with frankly) to receive some of its many benefits.
Mindfulness and meditation are invaluable allies in our quest for self-awareness which is incredibly important for mastering resilience to stress, anxiety and trauma. After all, if we understand ourselves better, we can begin to relate to ourselves in a much friendlier way, with compassion and empathy, rather than shame, blame and self-hatred. What begins on our insides can then begin to have a more positive impact on those around us whether at home, work or play.
According to Spirit Rock Meditation Center, we meditate in order to:
Obtain quiet or inner peace
Have a respite from the pace of daily life
Collect and unify the mind
Clear the mind of emotional turmoil
Feel and experience the truth of “the way things are” for yourself
Learn loving-kindness and compassion for yourself and others
Understand and learn how to practice forgiveness
Resources, Teachers … And a Caveat About Trauma
There are tons of great books, apps and audios on mindfulness and meditation out there that can help you get started. But by far the most beneficial way is to work with a qualified, ethical meditation teacher. This is particularly important if you’ve experienced severe trauma, as meditation can sometimes bring up challenging material. I almost hesitate to offer resources because it is so important to work with a teacher who knows you and can help guide you progress on the path safely, ideally one that is trauma-informed. In my years of teaching to both Buddhist and non-Buddhist mainstream audiences, I’ve had countless people tell me they meditated with an app but didn’t stick with it or that it didn’t help. Even worse are the stories of folks — even long practicing meditation teachers — who go on extended meditation retreats without letting their own teacher know of a potential trauma history.
This is why I counsel anyone who comes within 6 feet of me to work with a well-trained meditation teacher if you’re serious about developing a meditation practice.
Nevertheless, I offer here a few of my favorite resources to help you get started until you can find a teacher:
The Bottom Line About Meditation?
Like any relationship, the more time you spend cherishing, savoring, and honoring the practice of meditation, the more you’ll find you want to be with your beloved. After all you wouldn’t ghost someone want to cultivate a relationship, would you?
While you don’t have to fall in love with it the way I have, I can promise you that I have never, ever regretted spending time in meditation.
Remember, you don’t have to make a life-long commitment on the first date. Just dip a toe in the water and see what happens.
You deserve it.