I woke up in the wee hours this morning.  Wide awake.  So I spent what must have been a couple of hours or so in meditation before finally falling back asleep.

I’ve been coming across a lot of blog posts recently about meditation.  Everything from Isabel Joely Black’s “Lessons in meditation from wearing eight-inch heels” to a number of descriptions of painful struggle with thought.  (Okay, yes, eight-inch heels sound remarkably painful to me.  Nonetheless, Joely’s conclusions are highly amusing, and I love her perspective on what meditation really is.)

As one of my teachers, Adyashanti, says, you will never win an argument with your mind.  Meditation isn’t intended to be a continuation of that argument.  However, when you go into meditation – and I’ve been just as guilty of this as anyone else – with the idea that you’re supposed to quiet your mind, that somehow “doing meditation right” is about not thinking - well, that’s an unwinnable argument with your mind, for sure.

Let’s face it, minds think.  It’s what they’re supposed to do.  Trying to, as Adya says, slap a piece of tape over its mouth, tie it up, and stuff it into a box … it may work for a little while.  But then, just like a dog that’s been confined for a long time, when you let it out, boy will it run around like crazy.

And ultimately, you’re going to have to take the tape off your mind’s mouth.  And boy, is it going to have a lot to say when you do!

I’ve meditated off and on since I was a teenager way back in the 1970s.  More off, I’ll admit, than on, at least until four or five years ago.  Then I started meditating more regularly.  A couple of years ago, at the request of my coach, friend, and business co-conspirator Jon, I started meditating longer than the five, ten, or fifteen minutes that had been my norm till then.

Now I sit almost every day for anywhere from half an hour to an hour or more.  I don’t time it; it just happens until it’s done happening. 

In meditation, I’ve re-integrated parts of myself that had gotten lost.  I’ve gone on shaman’s journeys through my inner landscape, learning things about myself I’d never imagined.  I’ve laughed, I’ve cried.  I’ve watched my mind run around like an insane thing and, yes, gotten ridiculously frustrated by it.  I’ve fallen asleep.  I’ve experienced blissful states and painful states.

I treasure meditation, even - especially - the painful times.

So what’s meditation really about?

For me, it’s reconnecting with Silence.  That deep, ever-present Silence that I sometimes lose touch with, when I forget and start believing what my mind is saying, or when I get caught up in the drive to be productive, to get things done.

It’s my chance to stop, to allow everything to be exactly as it is, without any desire, not even the slightest urge, to change it.

It’s a chance to discover what’s really happening for me, what’s really true in this moment.

There’s no right or wrong experience in meditation.  What happens is what happens, whatever it is.  And as I described above, “what happens” takes on any number of different aspects.  I never know what to expect – and that’s part of what I love about it, and part of what makes it such a good teacher for my life.

So what about all those techniques?

Augh.  Technique.  Breathe this way, no, breathe that way.  Follow your breath. Repeat a mantra.  Imagine light. Quiet your mind.  Uhuh, sure thing. 

Meditation techniques are set-ups to feeling like you’re doing it wrong.  End of statement. 

Yes, my opinion.  But I’ve seen too many people struggling with meditation techniques.  On the other hand, the people I know - not just myself - who opt for the simpler path are those who actually enjoy (and benefit from) their meditation.

What if …

What if meditation was as simple as sitting.  Just sitting.

Asking yourself – your deeper Self – a question, without expecting an answer.  A question such as, What would it be like, right here in this moment, to stop arguing with my mind? 

How would it feel to let go of struggle? 

What would happen if I showed up as myself, just me, without any walls or barriers?

Who and what am I, really?

Not all at once, of course.  (Yikes!)  Pick what jumps out at you – which, if you’re honest, will probably be the one that makes you the most nervous and uncomfortable.  (Sorry about that, but there it is.) 

And then just sit with it.  When you get up from sitting, take the question with you.  Live it for a day, a week, a month.  See what happens.