The group of eight or ten of us sat in a circle. We gathered around a table draped with a colorful cloth. A single candle was lit. A CD player in the corner provided background music of medieval Christian chant. We began to share something from the time we spent earlier that evening in individual reflection.
For individual reflection, we had been given a choice. We could either draw, paint, or color an image that occurred to us during a meditative reading from the Bible or we could complete a journal sheet asking questions about life events that brought us to the present moment. The decision was easy for me that evening. I was mentally fatigued. I would draw.
One by one we shared something of our reflection. In the midst of this process, one woman blurted out an odd admission. It was odd because it didn’t seem to be related to the task at hand. Sheepishly, while looking at her feet, she said,: “I don’t want to admit this. Even though I’ve tried to do so many times, I just can’t meditate.”
The group facilitators quickly looked at each other. One decided to respond by inquiring further about what the woman meant. The woman explained that she’s just not able to stop her thoughts. When she sits in silence, her mind races on and on.
Dutifully, the facilitators attempted to explain that thoughts would always be present. Part of the art of meditation is to not pay attention to the thoughts that continue running through our minds. They provided the basic advice: pay no attention to the thoughts.
The facilitators were correct: in meditation, pay no attention to thoughts. But that’s easier said than done. Perhaps it helps to understand that it’s the natural state of our brain that brain cells keep transmitting information. We perceive this activity as random sets of thoughts. As long as we’re alive, we’ll keep having thoughts. For meditation, the general goal is to not attend to them.
When I consider the various techniques used for meditations across the great religions of the world, my conclusion is that the wisdom of the traditions teach people ways to be distracted from thoughts by focusing their attention on something else. Some techniques focus on breathing: following one’s breath, counting one’s breath, or slowing one’s breath. Some use a mantra or prayer word. Others use a tactile stimulus, like a rosary or prayer beads. Still others use the beat of a drum. The whirling dervishes of the Sufi orders spin in circles. Eastern Orthodox Christians fix their gaze on icons while pagans focus on the light of a lit candle. No matter what the technique, at least one other sense is engaged as a way to focus on something other than one’s own thoughts.
Of course, the thoughts continue. They run their own course. Awareness of one’s thoughts is the key. The basic meditation technique is to return to focusing on something else: one’s breath, a prayer word or mantra, or gazing at an image.
The art of meditation clears our mind not because we are able to stop our thoughts. Instead, meditation requires us to shift focus to something else so that the stream of thoughts flows past our consciousness becoming nothing more than background noise that just fades away.
I suspect that the woman meditates as well as anyone else. Often, the problem isn’t the meditation but the expectation of the kind of mental state that we should attain.