Meditation

Meditation is a core element of mindfulness practice and, in the Buddhist view, a necessary practice in the pursuit of enlightenment. From my personal and professional perspective, the practice of meditation is resoundingly worthwhile. Therefore, I strongly recommend developing a meditation practice, by which I mean meditating regularly for 20-30 minutes once or twice a day, if for no other reason than because I am convinced that its potential benefits far outweigh any potential harm.

There are countless different schools of meditation. The following presents my approach to meditation, which emphasizes practicality over tradition, symbolism, and even spirituality (but, to be clear, it is not in conflict with any of the above).  It is influenced by Zen (Zazen) meditation, mindfulness of breathing (Anapanasati), Vipassana meditation, and by the work of Drs.  Kabat-Zinn and Linehan.

Meditation is the practice of paying attention to attention. Attention is a crucial brain function. It plays a key role in most human activities, from maintaining safety to learning and interpersonal interactions; ultimately, the efficacy of all volitional operations depends on it. Therefore, it makes sense that developing mastery of it would be well worth the required effort. Meditation is among the most accessible and well-studied practices for improving attention proficiency, which lends it considerable value.
In a nutshell, the practice comes down to observing what happens when the mind is assigned to focus exclusively on a single target. Different attention-honing meditation types use different targets; a target to focus on can be just about anything — a physical object (e.g., a flower, the flame of a candle), a concept (e.g., compassion, world peace), or a sensation (e.g., the feeling of one’s feet touching the ground). In breathing meditation, it’s the breath, which, unlike anything else, has the unique attribute of always being available for practice.

Keep in mind that mastery, in any endeavor, can only be achieved through consistent practice. The productivity of a practice hinges on the practitioner’s commitment to persist, especially as they keep “failing” at it. This certainly applies to this practice of breathing meditation: failure — specifically, finding it impossible to follow the breath exclusively for any length of time, is a condition for success. Early on (i.e., in the first few years of practicing), the practice is most rewarding when the mind is observed wandering, when it’s “caught” blatantly disobeying the simple command to stay focused on the assigned target. This “failure” is the primary reason to practice — it exposes the true undisciplined nature of the mind and offers an opportunity to negotiate with it, which is how its training begins.

If you are considering adopting a meditation practice, I encourage you to explore various resources on the topic. A wealth of high-quality information is available in books and online. Visiting a meditation center is certainly worthwhile (preferably a traditional one, such as a Vipassana or Zen meditation center; I’d stay away from places with an aggressive new-age vibe, especially if they use crystals or similar paraphernalia).
I think it’s a very good idea to attend group meditation sessions and participate in meditation retreats. But (as discussed below), I think it is preferable to start meditating on your own and become comfortable with the practice before attending either of these options.
The following is an overview of my approach to meditation (i.e., what I have learned so far about meditation). It is tradition-neutral and a reasonable starting point. I hope you will find it useful.

To begin, a meditation session should be timed. It has to have a clear starting point and a clear, predetermined endpoint. In the Zen tradition, the person guiding the session, usually a monk, rings a bell to announce the beginning and end of the session. If you meditate on your own, monklessly, you’ll need a timing device such as an alarm clock, a cell phone, or an egg timer (if possible, select a gentle, bell-like sound for the alarm, because why not?).

[Sidebar: The late great Frank Zappa said that “The most important thing in art is The Frame. For painting: literally; for other arts: figuratively — because without this humble appliance, you can’t know where The Art stops and The Real World begins” (Zappa & Occhiogrosso, 1989). The bell defines the meditation session, much like a frame defines art, by marking where the day ends, and practice begins.]

If one meditates alone (as opposed to participating in group meditation), the time of day they meditate is a matter of convenience and personal choice; sitting (more or less) at the same time every day probably supports establishing a regular practice, but it is not a requirement.
Sitting for 20-30 minutes once (or twice) a day qualifies as solid practice and is a reasonable goal to aim for. In my opinion, beginners with no experience meditating should not start their practice by sitting for anywhere near that long. If one is not accustomed to it, sitting for even just a few minutes can be uncomfortable.

Inexperienced practitioners are often demoralized when they struggle to get through an ordinary meditation session, which can lead them to abandon the practice altogether. Since the length of the session in group mediation is not flexible, I think it is preferable to start practicing alone and join a group only after one has been sitting comfortably for about 30 minutes.
Beginning practitioners are likely to benefit from starting with short sessions and increasing their length gradually as they become more accustomed to the practice. I recommend keeping the length of the first few sessions at three to five minutes; even that may feel like a long time at first. Obviously, three minutes is a long way away from the goal, but it is a sensible first step. After a few days of short, “entry-level” sessions (say, 10-14 days, to put a generous number on it), there will be a session in which the sound of the bell signaling the session’s end will come as a surprise. It will trigger a thought along the lines of “What?! Time’s up already?!”, “Whoa! That was too fast!” or “I can’t believe it’s over already!” When that happens, it means the practitioner is ready to add one or two more minutes to the following sessions. For example, if it occurred at the end of a five-minute meditation session, the following sessions should be extended to seven minutes each. This experience is bound to repeat automatically — at some point, after a few days of meditating at the slightly longer session, the session’s end will come as a surprise again. When the session feels too short, the practitioner is ready to increase the session’s length, again, by one or two minutes. Persisting with this approach — sitting for a fixed length of time until it feels too short, then extending the session’s duration by a couple of minutes, makes it possible to develop “meditation stamina” organically and comfortably.
Keep in mind that this method works in both directions — if sitting is physically or mentally uncomfortable enough to make getting through a session a struggle (e.g., when it feels like the session has been going on for ever and it’s not about to end, or when one starts wondering if there is a problem with the bell because it feels like “it was supposed to ring already”) one should shorten the following sessions by a minute or two. When the sound of the bell comes as a surprise again, it is time to extend the following sessions by one or two minutes.
Building a solid meditation practice in this way requires patience (which is certainly compatible with the spirit of the practice); in my experience, it is well worth the effort. It typically takes only a few weeks to reach the 30-minute target. When one can meditate consistently, comfortably, and effortlessly for 30 minutes, they can usually extend their sessions at will.
As I mentioned above, meditating daily for around 30 minutes constitutes a solid practice. Sitting for longer, or sitting twice a day, is not unusual and well within reason, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of meeting one’s obligations. (Experienced practitioners often meditate for significantly longer periods without adverse effects, suggesting that extending beyond 30 minutes is safe for those who have built stamina gradually.)

Breathing meditation has only one rule: Try your best to do nothing.
Aiming to ‘do nothing’ applies to both physical and mental activity. Let’s examine the physical aspect of the practice first. Following the rule means that once the session begins, the practitioner should maintain their position, remain silent, and still. That is all there is to it. Almost. The one exemption from the required stillness is, of course, breathing (not only is it in the title of the practice, but, in addition, if it weren’t excused, the practice would become lethal and, inevitably, less popular). Breathing should be kept at a regular, steady, and comfortable pace. Typically, meditators inhale through the nose, hold the air in the lungs for a few seconds, and exhale through the mouth. The duration of the exhalation is generally about twice as long as the duration of the inhalation.
Traditionally, meditators sit in a lotus (or a half-lotus) position, but that is neither a requirement nor a particularly important point. Any comfortable sitting position is fine. Sitting in a chair is perfectly acceptable and very common. If so, it is recommended to plant both feet flat on the ground and maintain a “bright back” (i.e., neither slouching nor keeping a military attention-like position). It is also traditional to place the right palm inside the left palm with the tips of the thumbs touching. Whatever.
The eyes can be open or closed; either is fine, but one should stick with the option they choose at the beginning of the session for its duration. If the eyes are kept open, one usually focuses on a single blank point on a wall or in the distance. Lastly, the term “half smile” is often used to describe the expression one should keep while meditating. I’ll leave it to you to figure it out; I doubt it is a crucial point.
The bottom line is that any physical position will do (at least in the context of this work). The key is to remain still, refraining completely from movement during the session, except for the natural movements associated with breathing. Therefore, it is a good idea to establish a comfortable physical position at the beginning of the session; otherwise, one may be stuck in physical discomfort for the duration.
Experiencing some positional discomfort for 20-30 minutes is not enjoyable, but it’s generally harmless and should be tolerated. In fact, some physical and/or mental discomfort can actually enhance the value of a meditation session (as long as it is at a readily tolerable level, not severe or in any way testing one’s endurance). Mild discomfort can contribute to the productivity of a meditation session because, by its design, discomfort draws attention. Consequently, any discomfort during the meditation session will compete with the breath for attention, further revealing the mind’s workings.
However, if the discomfort intensifies and approaches an intolerable level, one should address it by adjusting their position (yes, during the session) or taking any necessary steps to make themselves more comfortable, and then continue with the session. Moving during a meditation session may come at the cost of some bragging rights, but nothing more. No one is harmed as a result of moving during a meditation session. It’s not diffusing a bomb or performing brain surgery; it’s just meditation.
Moreover, it’s perfectly okay to quit mid-session, before the bell rings (especially if the discomfort is primarily mental, to which a physical adjustment is irrelevant). Sure, it defeats the purpose of the exercise momentarily, but so what? A meditation session should not be an endurance test. In principle, it should be a pleasant experience. If any aspect of the session becomes intensely stressful, it’s better to stop before the bell rings and try again the following day, probably for a shorter session.
The reason I emphasize this is not for liability protection (maybe a little, out of habit). My intention is to highlight a fundamental principle of mindfulness that is often overlooked: Mindfulness is about maintaining commitments and rejecting attachments. (The difference between commitments and attachments is discussed in detail in the Attachment and Commitment chapter.) In other words, the mindful approach to meditation (and any other worthwhile endeavor) embodies common sense and flexibility, avoiding rigid, hard-headedness (which, in its worst form, can be fanaticism). An insistent, stubborn, or forceful attitude is incompatible with mindfulness, regardless of what it is about. Not only is meditation no exception, but the practice of meditation is an opportunity to foster this attitude. (More on this below.)

Let’s now examine the mental side of breathing meditation.
As mentioned above, the primary goal one aspires to achieve during a session is to come as close as possible to doing nothing, physically and mentally. In theory, it is the easiest thing a person can be asked to do. What could be easier than doing nothing? In actuality, it is impossible; if for no other reason (and there are other reasons), for the simple fact that breathing cannot be stopped, nipping the aspiration to do nothing in the bud. (I find it satisfyingly amusing that the defining requirement of meditation — to do nothing is simultaneously the easiest thing to do and impossible to do; it’s so Buddhistic, right?)
Buddhism resolves the inherent paradox by harnessing the unavoidable activity associated with breathing in the service of the mental aspect of the meditation process. Doing nothing mentally is usually referred to as “emptying the mind of all thoughts.” Accomplishing that is extremely difficult, if not impossible; if it is possible, it requires many years of intense practice (well beyond my experience). Instead of stubbornly insisting on “emptying the mind,” the practice invites a compromise by permitting the mind to be occupied with one thing — the conveniently ever-present breath. That is, for the duration of the meditation session, the practitioner attempts to focus their attention exclusively on their breathing and tries to disregard everything else, internal and external.
Any aspect of breathing is fair game, for example, the smell of the air, the temperature of the air, the sensations in the nose and chest as the air enters and leaves the lungs. Some meditators mentally repeat the words ‘in’ as they inhale, ‘hold’ while holding the air, and ‘out’ as they exhale. Some count mentally, for example, to four while inhaling, three while holding their breath, and eight while exhaling. As long as one is paying attention exclusively to something associated with breathing, they are “in compliance.” Still, as every new meditation practitioner quickly discovers, adhering to this rule for the entire session is impossible (at least for the first few years of practice).
It requires considerable training to keep one’s attention exclusively on one’s breathing (or on any other single target) because it goes against the nature of the mind. The mind naturally wanders; if it didn’t wander, there would be no point to the practice of meditation.
As practitioners quickly discover, there are two ways to “fall off the path.” One is to have one’s attention abandon the breath altogether and center on something else — the construction noise from the neighbors, a recalled memory that pops up, or the ringing in one’s ears. The other is to partially abandon the breath and follow two things simultaneously, the breath and something else (e.g., outside noise, a memory, or an internally produced signal), commonly referred to as “divided attention.”  

Think of ‘attention’ as a spotlight in a theatre production. The spotlight operator’s job is to aim the spotlight on areas of the stage where the important action takes place, according to the play’s director’s instructions. At any point in the play, the spotlight can be in one of two states: either in compliance with the director’s instruction (i.e., illuminating the assigned spot) or in defiance of it (either leaving the target completely and illuminating something unrelated, or splitting into two spots, one on target and the other not).
In breathing meditation, the “director” has a single instruction: keep the spotlight exclusively on the breath. At any moment during the session, the spotlight will either be in compliance, i.e., exclusively following the breath, or in defiance, i.e., following something else entirely, or following the breath but not exclusively so.
The initial task of a meditation practitioner is to note what the spotlight is actually illuminating, that is, whether or not it’s following the director’s instructions. That’s what ‘paying attention to attention’ means.
For example, when one’s attention wanders off the breath, a practitioner may note, “My attention is on my aching back,” “My attention is on the noise the person next to me is making,” or “My attention is divided between my breath and the meeting I have to attend in a couple of hours.”
When attention is “caught” wandering off target, it should be gently brought back to the breathing, without fanfare, judgment, and, certainly, without force. (More on this below).

The goal is to note what the mind is attending to and nothing else. In other words, one aspires to note the focus of their attention without making any further commentary, particularly without judging the mind, regardless of what it is observed doing.
Refraining from judgment enables one to refrain from reacting. Observing without reacting is synonymous with maintaining calm (as discussed in the section on Calm). In other words, practicing meditation is inseparable from the practice of cultivating calm, with or without the practitioner’s realization of it.

If the mind does manufacture a judgment, it should be handled no differently — just noted, without further commentary; for example, “my attention is on how undisciplined my mind is,” or “my attention is on how difficult it is to keep attention on the breath,” i.e., the same way one would handle their attention shifting to physical sensation (e.g., an aching back), an external distraction (e.g., the noise from the neighbors), or a recalled memory (e.g., that which happened last night, or ten years ago).
Overall progress in the practice hinges on developing proficiency in paying attention to one’s attention.

[Sidebar: 1. It takes a fair amount of practice to establish a basic level of proficiency in paying attention to attention and calmly redirecting the mind to the breath. It becomes more natural and easier with gradual practice. Doubtlessly, different individuals require different durations to become comfortable with it. In my clinical observation, it typically takes several months of daily practice before the basic skills feel natural; the point is that it’s not going to happen overnight. It takes time, and therefore, a commitment to practice.
2. Beginners are often impressed to realize how quickly their “spotlight” starts wandering (it’s not unusual for it to go off-target, repeatedly, within just two or three breaths). This can make it difficult to refrain from judging the defiant “spotlight operator,” which then evokes a negative reaction (e.g., “I just can’t do it” or “this is really stupid”). It can also be challenging to refrain from reacting when the “spotlight” actually does what it is supposed to do, i.e., when it does stay on the breath for some time. That is often automatically judged favorably, evoking a positive reaction (e.g., “Yay! I’m doing it!” or “I’m getting good at this”). Both positive and negative judgments, as well as the reactions that follow, get in the way. Judgment and reaction inevitably keep attention off target for a longer period. Refraining from judgment and, ultimately, observing without reacting, is just as challenging as maintaining attention exclusively on the breath. It too gets easier with practice.]

As you may have noticed, the practice of doing nothing is actually composed of three parts: Noting what attention is on, refraining from judgment (and thus, reaction), and redirecting the wandering attention back to the breath. The third component requires further discussion: 

Buddhist literature and teachings often refer to the undisciplined mind as a “monkey mind.” That is, in its natural, untrained state, the mind acts like a monkey in the wild — deaf to instructions, hopping randomly from one shiny object to another. While this metaphor makes perfect sense, given my personal background, I prefer the term “puppy mind” (I’ve raised many dogs in my life; I’ve only seen monkeys briefly, on rare occasions when I couldn’t elude visiting a zoo). That is, I suggest approaching the undisciplined mind like you would approach a puppy and, by extension, adopting the model of a skillful trainer who takes on the challenge of training the puppy, raising it to deserve the esteemed position of one’s best friend.

Here is a brief summary of the principles of effective training: The competent trainer knows that a young puppy never does what it is told to do — such is the nature of a puppy. Puppies hide under the bed, chew on a favorite shoe, and pee on the carpet; they simply can’t be expected to obey the simplest commands — none of which phase the trainer. The trainer often begins the training session by allowing the puppy to do its puppy thing for a minute or two, letting it burn off some energy before the training starts, and ends the session when they sense that the puppy has had enough.
The trainer maintains a calm demeanor, patience, and a sense of humor (which, I think, is indispensable) throughout the session, all in the service of not reacting to the puppy’s actions. Reacting — getting upset or angry with the puppy — is guaranteed to derail the training (it’s not merely ineffective, it is profoundly irrational to be upset with the puppy for being a puppy). And last but not least, a competent trainer uses positive reinforcement — rewarding and praising even the smallest step the puppy makes in the right direction, and completely refrains from using force or punishment for disobedience. One of the biggest challenges in the training is to be firm without being rigid.
The first point in applying the dog-trainer model to meditation practice is to consider allowing the mind to wander for a few minutes at the beginning of a session, essentially “burning off some energy” before the actual training begins; this may be particularly relevant to beginning practitioners with a very undisciplined puppy-mind. When the mind is ready, attention is directed to the breath. Of course, it will still wander; it will not stay on the breath just because it is told to do so. Like a puppy, it will go places where it shouldn’t be, and it will chew on things it’s not supposed to. New practitioners should expect their attention to get off target quickly and repeatedly, often within just a few breaths. Gradually, with practice, attention will stay on target for longer, but it will eventually wander off. Sooner or later, something — a tightening muscle, a noise, or a recalled, emotionally charged memory — is guaranteed to call attention away from the breath. Even experienced practitioners’ attention eventually wanders, which, of course, is beneficial, as that is when they get the most out of their practice.
Expecting one’s attention to wander off target helps to refrain from judgment and reaction, which is key. It is vital to be patient with the puppy-mind and to treat it kindly and compassionately, regardless of its behavior (maintaining a sense of humor about it helps). Any form of harsh treatment of the puppy-mind must simply be avoided.
With practice, one can be increasingly firm in redirecting attention to the breath. It is, however, important to avoid approaching the task rigidly, demanding or insisting that the mind obey its instructions. If the mind refuses to return attention to the breath, it’s much better to let it stay off-target than to try to force it back on. Attempting to use force must be avoided, even if it turns out that the mind processes material completely unrelated to the breath for the entire session, or even if it means stopping mid-session, before the bell rings. The mind will be more cooperative the next time around.
I believe this is a crucial point. In my opinion, inner conflict, more than anything else, can make a meditation session an unpleasant test of one’s endurance. The presence of inner conflict may be obvious, but surprisingly, even an intense inner conflict can escape one’s conscious awareness. Therefore, if it is difficult to get through a meditation session, it is worthwhile to search the mind’s content for evidence of a conflict. Resolving, or even just circumventing, an inner conflict tends to radically improve the quality of the meditation experience, transforming it from an unpleasant and sometimes even painful experience into an enjoyable experience that one looks forward to. I believe that this is one of the most important aspects of the practice because it can vividly illustrate the burden of conflict, the futility of attempting to resolve it through force, and the relief that comes with peaceful conflict resolution.

[Sidebar: 1. Very advanced practitioners, such as Buddhist monks with tens of thousands of hours of meditation experience, probably reach a state of transcending all distractions. (If that happens to be you, I’m glad you’re reading this; however, respectfully, as you already know, you are not the target audience for this section.)
2. I’m compelled to chuckle when my mind wanders, not only because I find my puppy-mind endearingly funny, but also because (contrary to a commonly exuded vibe) it is the epitome of ‘no big deal’. A light-hearted attitude supports the practice’s goal and is not contradictory to maintaining a strong commitment.]

The Potential Benefits of Meditation

Meditation is a central practice in Buddhism, and, in some form, it is practiced by most of the world’s religions. Consequently, it is often considered a religious or a spiritual practice, but (as Ira Gershwin put it) — it ain’t necessarily so. This presentation approaches meditation from a secular and practical perspective, as a mental workout (or a neuropsychological practice, in case a more presumptuous description is called for) with no spiritual or religious affiliations whatsoever.
Notably, the secular/scientific and religious/spiritual approaches to meditation do not conflict or contradict in any way. The intense interest in meditation, evident in both time-honored religious and spiritual traditions and modern secular and scientific endeavors (which is rapidly growing) may be explained by the fact that the practice of meditation is instrumental in the pursuit of happiness, making it attractive to members of our species regardless of their background.
The practice of meditation is particularly relevant to psychiatry, as it should be a branch of medicine dedicated to the pursuit of happiness. Indeed, modern psychiatry is increasingly invested in studying meditation and incorporating it into its clinical armamentarium.

The study of physiological responses to meditation and the associated mental and physical health benefits is an active area of research (which I will not cover here; it is very interesting and unquestionably worth exploring). Instead, I will present the benefits I associate with the practice of meditation, based on my firsthand experience, and briefly outline my understanding of the mechanism of action behind them. (The explanations in the following are kept short. Some were discussed above, and others are reviewed in detail in the relevant chapters of the Theory section.)

• The most critical skill, in my opinion, that one can develop through the practice of meditation is the skill of observing (what comes up in one’s mind) and labeling it without judging. Mastering this skill is crucial to developing mindfulness and pursuing happiness effectively.
• Meditation and the quality of the mental process: As I mentioned earlier, meditation is the practice of paying attention to one’s attention. By paying attention to attention, one can observe how their mind functions, and appreciate that “the mind has a mind of its own,” and that until it is trained, it is not as effective as it can be. Then, the practice of meditation offers the next step in the process of training the mind — the practice of redirecting attention to where it is required. The skill of deliberately redirecting attention, honed through meditation, can be applied anywhere it is needed (i.e., away from the “meditation cushion”). Given the overarching crucial role of attention, acquiring the skill of redirecting it can lead to a significant improvement in the efficiency of one’s mental operations.

[Sidebar: The following is one of the most important insights I can offer as a psychiatrist: You simply cannot believe everything you think!
Clinically, I have witnessed insight being extremely useful for patients suffering from chronic psychotic disorders (on more than a few occasions, I have been impressed with the superior efficacy of this simple reminder over antipsychotic medications; it certainly has fewer side effects); it is useful for patients with non-psychotic disorders (e.g., anxiety, mood, and personality disorders) whom I’ve also seen deriving clinical benefit from internalizing this fact. The benefit of maintaining awareness of the fact that one can’t automatically assume everything their mind presents is indeed a fact is not reserved only for psychiatric patients — it has a universal value, as it encourages one to re-examine their conclusions before acting, which is always a good idea (except perhaps when facing an immediate, literal survival threat).
The practice of meditation, by exposing the true, undisciplined nature of the mind, can help maintain a healthy degree of skepticism about the conclusions the mind generates. It can help each of us avoid automatically believing everything our minds generate, which is not only essential for avoiding embarrassing and often costly mistakes, but also supports keeping an open mind.
It’s difficult to overstate the functional importance of keeping an open mind. The following one-liner, variously attributed, captures it well: “Minds are like parachutes: They function only when they are open.” ]

• Meditation practice and the sense of freedom: Meditation can enhance one’s sense of freedom (in life, in general). This is not to say that meditation offers some transcendental liberation or a freedom that amounts to “breaking on through to the other side.” The liberating effect I have experienced through meditation practice is subtle, yet palpable. Nonetheless, given the value of freedom, even the smallest gain of it is precious.
  The link between meditation and freedom is a specific example of the general principle that the only way to gain freedom is by cultivating inner discipline, particularly compassionate inner discipline (as discussed in the Freedom chapter). An active meditation practice is exactly that — an expression of compassionate inner discipline.
  
  [Sidebar: The following definitions should help to further clarify the connection between meditation and freedom: (1) Freedom is defined as the degree of influence one has over one’s position. (2) Physical freedom is the degree of influence one has over one’s physical position; mental freedom is the degree of influence one has over one’s mental position (‘mental position’ is composed of the material the mind is processing, i.e., the content, and the way it does it, i.e., the process).
  (3) Discipline is defined as the capacity to follow a rule over time. (4) Inner discipline is the capacity to follow one’s own (i.e., internally generated) rules over time.
  In addition to the opportunity to cultivate compassionate inner discipline, meditation is an excellent exercise for developing direct influence over both the content and the process of one’s mental activity. Improving the ability to volitionally redirect one’s attention while maintaining a calm, compassionate attitude amounts to directly increasing one’s influence over their mental position, which is synonymous with increasing one’s mental freedom.]
• Meditation, commitment, and attachment: The distinction between a committed attitude and an attached attitude is crucial. According to Buddhism, attachments are the source of suffering. From that point of view, it is difficult to overstate the value of a skill-set enabling the identification of one’s attachments, their examination, and, ultimately, either replacing the attachment with a commitment (when the examination reveals that the ‘thing’ one is attached to has a value) or letting go of the attachment (when the examination reveals that the ‘thing’ is worthless). The practice of meditation supports the development of such a skill set by exposing the futility of attachment (to doing nothing?!) and the reward inherent to sustained commitment.
• Meditation and patience: Patience is defined as the calm willingness to postpone gratification. It is broadly considered a virtue, and as such, it is worth cultivating. Each meditation session can offer the opportunity to cultivate the calm willingness to postpone gratification (e.g., the gratification of scratching an itch, shifting around, etc.). Overarchingly, since meditation is gratifying but never instantaneously, the commitment to the practice itself is an opportunity to practice cultivating patience. 
• Meditation and self-confidence: The brain generates an assessment of the likelihood it will succeed in meeting its demands, accomplish its tasks, and endure the challenges it is likely to face. This assessment translates into the subjective experience of self-confidence.
  Normally, this estimation, and, therefore, one’s sense of self-confidence, forms through implicit learning of one’s past performance. In other words, the brain keeps track of its successes and failures, using this data to predict the odds of success in the future. Hence, in general, the more evidence of success one gathers, the more self-confident they become.
  Living by a commitment (any commitment) is evidence of one’s capacity to persist and persevere, which readily translates into evidence of success. Since a meditation practice manifests the practitioner’s ability to live by a commitment, with or without one’s conscious realization of it, simply sustaining an active meditation practice rightly registers as a success; thus, it contributes to one’s confidence in their doggedness and the strength of their resolve (which are very general features applicable to most situations).
• Meditation and mental balance: ‘Balance’ is a desired trait. Like freedom, balance manifests both physically and mentally; on both fronts, it is an asset, associated with stability and good health (for example, a balanced diet is synonymous with a healthy diet). In the context of motion (which is relevant, in general, to the perception of life as a journey, and specifically to the pursuit of happiness), balance implies efficiency; conversely, the loss of balance in motion implies inefficiency (i.e., flailing, wasted effort, energy, and time) if not a complete collapse.
  
  [Sidebar: Mental balance can be gauged by monitoring how attention is divided and allocated. To illustrate this, think about balancing a seesaw or a teeter-totter: The balancing point may be in the middle of the beam, dividing it into two equal halves (i.e., 50-50 split), but it may also be at any other point along the length of the beam, depending on the physical variables of the system. That is, the balance point may divide the length of the beam into 60-40, 90-10, or even 99-1 parts, but not 100-0%. In other words, the balance point may be anywhere along a continuum other than at its ‘all-or-nothing’ extremes. The analogy works to illustrate mental balance: A mind cannot be in balance when its attention is captured by, or stuck at, one of the extreme endpoints.]
  
  Meditation is an exercise in cultivating mental balance in that as one pays attention to their attention, they monitor how it is divided and allocated across various spectrums; in each case, emphasis is placed on avoiding getting stuck at the extreme endpoints of the spectrum (i.e., avoiding a 100-0 split). The practice itself requires this balance: one cannot focus exclusively on the breath without also monitoring where attention is, nor can one focus exclusively on monitoring attention without a target (the breath) to monitor. That is, the practitioner aspires to refrain from attaching all of their attention to one end of the spectrum (and completely dismissing the other, as undeserving of any attention).
  The primary example is the required allocation of attention to both the breath and to attention itself (i.e., the practice collapses if either attention itself or the breath receives 100% of attention). Another balancing act involves dividing attention between the gravity and levity of the meditation practice itself: Meditation is a serious practice, treated seriously by practitioners for over 2,500 years. At the same time, it is nothing — it is the practice of doing nothing! What could be less serious than that?
• Meditation and tolerance: Tolerance is defined as the ability and willingness to experience discomfort without reacting to it.
  Some discomfort (physical, mental, or both) is guaranteed to appear while meditating, sooner or later. In other words, the practice of meditation provides the practitioner with ample opportunities to experience discomfort without reacting to it (i.e., by observing and noting it, without judging and therefore without reacting, as discussed above), which is synonymous with opportunities to practice and cultivate tolerance. It is a particularly valuable practice opportunity because cultivating tolerance during meditation is safe, as the discomfort experienced during a session is never allowed to reach a level that poses a serious threat to limb or life.
• Meditation and calm: Calm is defined as a state of observing without reacting.
  Cultivating the ability to observe without reacting to that which is being observed — i.e., maintaining calm — is at the core of meditation practice.
• Meditation and inner peace: Peace is the rejection of force as a means of conflict management and resolution. Inner peace is the rejection of force as a means of managing and resolving inner conflict.
  Inner conflicts, a form of discomfort, are guaranteed to arise sooner or later while meditating. As discussed earlier, rejection of force as a method for conflict resolution is inherent to the practice of meditation (and mindfulness in general). Hence, the practice provides an opportunity to identify overt or covert inner conflicts as they emerge and deal with them non-violently, i.e., by rejecting the use of force.
• Meditation and compassion: According to one definition, compassion is the willingness to accept a sentient being exactly as it is, i.e., unconditionally.
  Since, during meditation, the mind is likely to wander and disregard what is asked of it, it is also likely to challenge its acceptance (i.e., the puppy-mind can seem unacceptable or be difficult to accept as it is). When that happens, it is an opportunity to cultivate the ability to accept it exactly as it is, in its “failure.” It’s the essence of the puppy-trainer’s attitude — it makes no sense to reject the puppy as flawed, simply for being a puppy. Similarly, it makes no sense to reject the mind as flawed or not to accept it as good enough for expressing its “puppy nature”.
  Accepting the mind exactly as it is is synonymous with treating it with compassion. In other words, meditation offers an opportunity to cultivate self-compassion, which is no different from compassion for others (as discussed in the Happiness chapter).
• Meditation and relaxation: The laborious component of meditation diminishes automatically with experience in the practice. At some point, much of the meditation session really becomes an exercise in comfortably doing next to nothing. This aspect of meditation can be considered giving the brain a break from the nonstop, heavy lifting it engages in throughout the time one is awake. As such, meditation can have a refreshing effect similar to (yet distinct from) the refreshing effect of sleep.

Interestingly, a feature shared by all the points listed above is that the benefits are “built into” the practice and transpire automatically. That is, the practitioner does not have to be consciously aware of the potential benefits for the reward to be obtained. All that is required is a commitment to the practice of trying to do nothing. Moreover, as valuable as each of these benefits is, there is no readily available alternative method to practice and cultivate them other than through the practice of meditation.
Lastly, it is even more intriguing how something as simple as sitting, breathing, and trying to do nothing is linked to so many important aspects of the human condition (especially given that, in all likelihood, the list above is far from comprehensive). Go figure.

 

REFERENCES

Kabat-Zinn, J. (2013). Full catastrophe living: Using the wisdom of your body and mind to face stress, pain, and illness (Rev. ed.). Bantam Books.

Linehan, M. M. (2015). DBT skills training manual (2nd ed.). Guilford Press.

Zappa, F., & Occhiogrosso, P. (1989). The real Frank Zappa book. Poseidon Press.

 

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