Maybe the point is to come back

I started meditating a few years ago with a nifty app called Headspace. Each meditation session was guided by a man with a soothing British accent, Andy Puddicombe. Purists would say that the app was cheating, but I subscribe to the belief that the best meditation practice is the one I actually stick to.



My commitment to meditation has waxed and waned over the years. But there was one concept that has stayed with me all this time.



“When your mind wanders, just gently guide it back." Those were Andy's words.



On a separate occasion, I was talking to a friend who was a serious meditator. This friend told me, “The point isn't to keep your mind completely empty. The point is to guide your mind back whenever it wanders." He compared the act of guiding your attention back towards serenity to completing reps of a dumbbell. Over time, the mind strengthens like a muscle.



Lately, I've been thinking about this concept on a macro level.



I've lived a lot of my life actively resisting discomfort and tumult. Rather than riding the waves of circumstance, I've found myself struggling to change my external conditions in attempt to return to some semblance of stability. I've tended to chase the highs of good experiences above any source of discomfort.



But maybe the point isn't to live life in a state of permanent bliss. Maybe the point is to experience it all: in tandem with happiness, the sadness, anger, and fear. To trust that I can return to the default state of serenity and strength, irrespective of current circumstances. And maybe each time I return, that muscle gets a little stronger, and I get a little more resilient.





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