Mindfulness Meditation: 3 Essential Tips
When I began practicing mindfulness meditation in 2013, I never intended to start a transformative journey. At the time, I was at total war with both my body and mind. Desperate to exert some measure of agency over my thinking and behavior, I began studying mindfulness in earnest.
Now, three years later, I consider my practice a success: I am more focused, more in-control and more at peace with the world around me. I directly attribute these changes to practicing mindfulness meditation, though my practice didn’t come without difficulties.
Tip #1: When meditating, meditate.
“Do not confuse finger pointing to the moon with the moon itself.” — A widespread Buddhist teaching.
Before beginning my practice, I committed myself to learning as much as I could about mindfulness meditation. I read 10–20 books and easily devoted at least 40 hours to internet research on the subject. I settled on the particulars of my chosen technique, breath counting, after much internal agonizing; I was very keen on doing things the “correct” and “right” way.
When I finally began meditating, I expected to feel peaceful, focused and present. Instead I found my early practice fraught with irritation, distraction and absent-mindedness. My frustration peaked after a few weeks, and I thought that perhaps I wasn’t fit to meditate. Hoping to remedy my situation, I set myself to study more meditation teachings. Eventually, I stumbled across the Buddhist adage, “Do not confuse finger pointing to the moon for the moon itself.” Suddenly struck by insight, I understood the flaw in my current meditation practice.
When practicing, I was attending to my ideas of what meditation was. By doing this, I was neglecting the actual practice of meditation itself. I needed to let go of all my preconceived notions of meditation, as they were strangling my actual practice. To accomplish this, I mentally labeled anything outside of the rawest form of my practice as “finger pointing to the moon.” Furthermore, I actively endeavored to focus my attention on breath counting, to the mental exclusion of all else.
As a result, in time my practice grew less stressful and irksome. I began to notice subtle changes in my thinking and behavior that indicated a more acute awareness of the present moment, and I discovered a greater resistance to internal and external distraction.
Tip #2: Do not underestimate the efficacy of breath counting.
“I shall fasten you, mind, like an elephant at a small gate.” — Theragatha 5.9; a book within the canon of Theravada Buddhism.
About a year or so into my practice, I found myself wanting to try different meditative techniques beyond breath counting. After some research, I eventually decided on the koan, MU. I set myself to meditate on MU, and I abandoned breath counting entirely. Unfortunately, after a month of MU, I found the experience unsatisfying and unsettling. I chose to return to meditation focused on breathing — only, this time, I decided not to count breaths in my mind.
Trying this for several weeks, I noticed a marked change in my ability to stay focused and present during my practice. In the absence of a mental breath count, my mind itself seemed slippery and rebellious. Having no count with which to fasten my mind, it became as restless as a wild elephant.
Eventually I realized my need for a mental count, and I returned to doing so. I immediately noticed a significant improvement in my ability to remain focused and present during my practice. My practice returned to how it was before my decision to not count, and before MU.
Curious, in the aftermath of reestablishing efficacious practice, I did some research into the topic. I discovered that breath counting as a meditative technique is universally recommended — for a reason. Evidently, the counting itself serves to anchor the mind, affording practitioners moments of respite from the roar and turbulence of their streams of consciousness. By returning to breath counting, I found my practice more predictable, my focus deeper and my resolve strengthened.
Tip #3: Have mercy on yourself.
“To err is human.” — A Latin proverb.
Throughout my three-year journey, I was fortunate in finding the wisdom of those that came before me. By standing on the shoulders of giants, I was able to recognize finger pointing at the moon, and understand the importance of fastening my mind. Though I thankfully acknowledge their influence on my practice, I also think that my journey would not have been possible without an element of self-mercy.
Stripped of all pretense to its barest essentials, mindfulness meditation is in no way glamorous. You pick something to focus on, and you pay attention to it. Your attention inevitably wanders, and you bring it back again. You repeat this again and again — a thousand times, a million times — as training to retain your attention on the present moment.
At times, the struggle can seem so insurmountable that practitioners unfairly hold themselves responsible for their own unmindfulness in the moment. Standards involving buzzwords of zen and enlightenment, and the perceived lack thereof, encourage this type of thinking and too often serve as conceptual crucifixes.
However, by injecting their practice with an element of self-mercy, practitioners inoculate themselves against despairing their own humanity. Once again: Mindfulness meditation isn’t about being perfect, or being focused and present 100% of the time. It’s training to recognize the need to place oneself in the present moment over, and over and over again. And the existence of this need itself isn’t the fault of the practitioner, but simply a byproduct of the human condition.
To err is human. Mindfulness meditation is, in its purest form, a recognition of our own humanity followed by a choice to better ourselves. With self-mercy, practitioners recognize their own humanity and celebrate their ability to choose.
