The first time I heard about meditation was about ten years ago. It was the time Oprah became besties with Eckhart Tolle and she ordered us all to meditate. And we did. Of course we did. It's Oprah. In her offices, an alarm would go off twice a day so her employees could meditate.
"And if you don't have time for ten minutes of meditation," she said in her warm, soothing, determined tone, "do it for twentyyyy.
Any Eastern background was completely lost. On me, anyway. Eckhart Tolle mumbled something about "breaking the identification with thoughts. But whatever mister Tolle - just let me do this meditation thing Oprah just taught me. So I tried some days and I stopped someday. I don't remember when, it just left my life. As these things go. Little did I know there were darker days to come, and meditation and I would meet again.
'You know, you are not your thoughts,' a doctor told me five years ago. I was having a mental breakdown and this sentence stuck with me and, honestly, made me break down even more. 'What do you mean?' I said in complete panic and confusion. 'If I am not my thoughts, who am I then?' He answered; 'I'll let the psychiatrist call you'. His answers weren't satisfying to me. And so the search began. The meditation practice started again. The yoga asana practice followed a year later. Another year later I found Studio 108.
The difficult thing about meditation is that in order to understand it you have to do it. But in order to do it, someone has to make you understand. Just a little. So you have somewhere to start. Going to a yoga class helped. Seeking advice from teachers helped. Reading about it, sure. But mostly: doing it.
I practice meditation every night and it brings me so much. Some distance from thoughts in the moments I need it most. It's a little like preparing for the storms that will always come and go. When you practice every day, even in calm weather, you're able to face the storm a little better when it comes.
It also brings me distraction and its good friend frustration. Who else tries to meditate and when the timer goes off is like -Oright, I was meditating. In the meantime I had imaginary conversations with people who annoy me, I doubted a decision I made and there's a song stuck in my head.
Or this meditation: focus on breath - thought - stop thinking - focus again- focus - focus - thought - thought - thought - stop thinkinggg - that's also a thought - and that too. Maddening. Please tell me I'm not the only one.
Realizing the thoughts are allowed to be there brings some ease. To just let them become a bit floaty in the background. Focus on something else. Counting my inhale and exhale. Chanting. A mantra. My belly moving. The feeling of the breath entering the nose, cold, and leaving the nose, warm. And suddenly: concentration. And it's flowing. Not forceful. Naturally. It's as if my focus hooked onto the breath and remains there without much effort. Meditation. And then there's just breath. Is this Samadhi? I didn't do anything different from any other day. Wow, is this what Oprah was talking about -...and it's gone. I'll practice again tomorrow.
Silence is the language of God, all else is poor translation -
Rumi
Esther is a writer, creator, and yogi from Amsterdam. She is a student and Karma Yogi at Studio 108 and does her best to be kind, gentle, and to laugh whenever she stumbles.
