Friends, before you insist that I absolutely must meditate, that it’s scientifically proven that all people should, that I don’t know what I’m missing, that I’m probably not the best version of myself because I don’t meditate, let me just get this out of the way: You are more than free to enjoy meditation. And I’m not ever going to try to stop you from doing it. If that’s what you love doing, have at it.
But I will not be joining you. I hate meditating. I hate sitting still concentrating on my breath. I hate closing my eyes and trying to push all the thoughts out of my head. I hate quieting my mind and settling my thoughts while my legs and arms are in positions that someone else tells me they need to be in.
Trust me, I’ve tried. I’ve tried in the past on my own and in classes. And I’ve tried with many of the books that Jolenta and I have lived by. The most notable of these was Meditation for Fidgety Skeptics, by Dan Harris, Jeff Warren, and Carlye Adler.
Now, Jolenta figured that Meditation for Fidgety Skeptics would be the perfect book for me. Unlike The Miracle Morning, it didn’t ask me to wake up at an ungodly early hour to meditate. And unlike other books we’ve lived by, it didn’t ask me to meditate with the goal of getting rich or being more forgiving (I have zero belief that meditation can lead to the former, and I have no interest in doing the latter). On top of that, it was for skeptics like me, so it had to be a good fit, right?
Wrong. For the two weeks we lived by the book, I did not find myself happier. Meditating made me more tense, not more calm. It made me aware of all the things I could or should be doing, rather than giving me a way to zone out. And on top of that, it connected me with the most single-minded, judgmental proselytizers I’d ever met.
Whenever I told meditation lovers I wasn’t enjoying meditation, they would insist I was doing it wrong. Whenever I said it wasn’t for me, they’d say it was for everyone. Whenever I said I’d tried it dozens of times and still didn’t like it, they’d say I needed to try it hundreds of times before I would.
“Everyone hates it at first,” I’d be told. “But eventually, after many hours, you will reach a place of peace.”
Here’s the thing: I’m already a pretty peaceful person. I raise my voice only when people are about to walk into traffic or about to hurt me. I very rarely spiral into negative or anxious thoughts. And I’m great at living in the moment. Eavesdrop on me as I walk down the street, and you’ll find me talking to each squirrel and smelling every flower as I revel in the feeling of the wind on my face. I’m fully in the moment.
And when I’m meditating, I’m not. I’m wishing I was walking down that street with those flowers and squirrels, or dreaming of seeing friends, or laughing about something funny that happened to me that day, or maybe just drifting off to sleep. I’m doing none of the things with my brain that meditation says I should be doing. And when I try to guide my brain back to what I’m being told to do, I’m not having fun.
I have a few theories about why I don’t like meditation. One of these theories comes from my friend Eric Sasson. As he sees it, I’m wired like a good-natured windup doll. Each morning I wake up fully wound and ready to do a million things. I march around, happy and productive and playful, and then as the day winds down, so do I. And then I go to sleep and let my body and mind restore themselves. The next morning I wake up fully wound again.
“You do, do, do, and then you sleep, sleep, sleep, and you get all the energy and restoration you need from those two things. You’re just not wired for meditation.”
Another theory I have is that meditation might be better suited to people who are trying to tackle specific challenges that (fortunately) aren’t a regular part of my life. For example, Dan Harris began meditating as a way to treat his anxiety and addiction issues. Other people, he points out, use meditation to manage their feelings of rage or to help them develop impulse control. Perhaps if these were ongoing issues in my life I’d love meditation. But since they rarely are, meditation tends to feel like surgery for an ailment I don’t have. And as our original By the Book producer Cameron Drews once said, “Nothing makes Kristen as unhappy as a book that tries to fix something in her that’s not broken.”
A final theory I have about my dislike for meditation is related to my identity and personal history. As a woman of color who also happens to be an abuse survivor, I’ve been told way too often in my life that being quiet and being still will make things better—when that absolutely has not been the case. And I abhor the idea of self-styled gurus telling me otherwise—especially when those “gurus” are white men whose books I’ve had to live by. What’s empowered me most in life has been speaking out and standing up. What’s made me feel less afraid and more in control is being anything but quiet. And what’s made me feel more connected with each moment has been getting out of my head and more into the world around me.
Whatever the reasons, I don’t like meditation.
Jolenta is a slightly different story. When we lived by Harris’s book, she did see some real improvements in her life. When she found her anxiety or anger leading to negative thought spirals, she’d pause to say her newly adopted mantra—“I’m a queen bitch, and I’ve got this shit on lock”—and doing so would help derail her normal thinking patterns and reset her mind. When she felt the need to practice more compassion, the exercises in the book helped her tap into that part of herself. And when she wanted permission to relax, the book’s lazy meditations—which can be done on the sofa in front of the TV—put her in a state of bliss.
That being said, Jolenta also found that some of the book’s exercises frustrated her, bored her, and made her physically uncomfortable (note to everyone out there: Some meditation postures are super stiff-making). She didn’t love everything about meditation. She certainly didn’t see it as the be-all, end-all solution for humanity. And boy did she get tired of hearing from all the meditation zealots who kept insisting it was the solution for all the world’s problems.
Of course, if you’re a meditation zealot (or even only a meditation dabbler), I just want to reiterate: You are free to meditate. I hope it brings you joy. But it’s not for me. And it’s only sometimes for Jolenta.
Dear Kristen and Jolenta,
You’re just wrong about meditation. It is being introduced to some schools and hospitals and prisons because it really helps people stay centered during stressful and often life-threatening situations. It helps to cut down on violence and anxiety. If you don’t like to meditate, you just don’t like science.
—KW
Dear KW,
I totally agree with you and science; the benefits of meditation are real. And if it works well for you that is awesome! I’m jealous.
For Kristen and me, it felt taxing and frustrating as opposed to enriching. And while we may be in the minority, we aren’t going to stress too hard because I think we’ve found other ways to get the benefits of meditation in our lives.
Kristen loves walking through the city to get into a state of flow before work. I love to center my mind by crocheting at night. We have our ways, and even if they aren’t as powerful as simply sitting our butts down and meditating, they work for us.
Also, if you want an expert’s opinion, here’s a letter from a clinician-listener on the subject:
I’m a clinical psychologist and I practice and teach mindfulness meditation. From my experience of my own mindfulness practice, I see amazing benefits to meditation, but I would still query the assertion that everyone needs to meditate. There are two things I think most people need to have in their lives, and mindfulness meditation can be a great way to get them, but it is by no means the only way.
Thing one: the ability to shift into a “being” state of mind, present in the moment, instead of always and only existing in “doing” mode. “Doing” mode isn’t necessarily getting stuff done but distraction and overthinking and disappearing into the past and future and hypotheticals and worries and obsessions. A “being” state of mind is being fully engaged in the present moment.
Thing two: the ability to step back from your thoughts and emotions, notice what’s going on, notice patterns and what does and doesn’t work for you, and make decisions about how to respond or make changes without feeling overwhelmed. Some people just do this naturally; most people have some way of doing this, through journaling or painting, or talking with a supportive person who can say, “Hey, you’ve got caught up in that same thing again; let it drop.”
I don’t want anyone to think that if they can’t spend two hours a day opting out of normal life to meditate (like Dan Harris does), they have to miss out entirely on something that is available to everyone and for free. —E
—Jolenta