Why meditate?

BBC Radio 4 explored the question of mindfulness: Is it a panacea or just a fad? Although the presenter was occasionally somewhat tongue in cheek about the whole topic, her cynicism was tempered by the fact that for a lot of people, mindfulness works.

But the programme got me thinking, and in my meditation this morning I began to wonder: what is the point of meditation? For a long time I was mediating because I enjoyed it for its own sake. I find it relaxing and occasionally blissful. While that’s all great, I was missing the real point of meditation, which is to cultivate mindfulness.

Mindfulness is “paying attention in a particular way: on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgementally” (Kabat-Zinn, 1994). Meditation is deliberately taking some time to practice being mindful. Whether focusing on the breath, music or the taste of a chocolate truffle, meditation is the conscious practice of paying attention on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgementally. Through meditation we become more used to being mindful, and I know from personal experience that regular practice leads to moments of being mindful at other times.

The potential benefits of mindfulness are myriad. While there is sound evidence that mindfulness alleviates anxiety and makes chronic pain much more bearable, it has far wider applications. My own experience bears out Eric McCollum’s belief that mindfulness makes us better therapists (2014) and long term practice can have profound spiritual implications. There is a lovely interview with psychotherapist Miles Neale that points out that the Buddha was a revolutionary who was “trying to empower people to have a radical transformation” that would enable them to “collectively change the fabric of society”. That leads a bigger question about mindfulness and morality that I’ll to return to later, but for now, if you don’t meditate, maybe you’d like to give it a go.

Mindful weeding

When Horace wrote that “He who has begun has half done”, I don’t think he accounted for weeding. Maybe they didn’t do weeding in ancient Rome.

Weeding, like meditation, is ongoing, so I spent Sunday afternoon playing with the potential of a mindful weeding practice. Given that meditation is the process of turning attention “towards one’s moment-to-moment experience” (Paramanada, 2007), there are endless ways to practise. As I knelt amidst the weeds, with my hands digging and sifting earth from roots, I felt my mind slowing and opening.

Then my practise shifted to something more focused: What weeds were clogging the garden of my mind? Was each ‘weed’ shallow and easy to pull out or like bindweed, deep-rooted and persistent? I began to think with the place: Where do the root networks lead? What feeds them? Is it even a ‘weed’ at all?

According to a rule of thumb from The Times, deep-rooted weeds thrive in poor soil, while shallow-rooted weeds prefer fertile soil. It seems that mental weeds are much the same, so remember to feed you mind.

References

Mindfulness in Nature

Mindfulness and ecotherapy are two of the most ancient and powerful approaches to healing mental distress. What happens when you bring them together? Last week-end I spoke about practicing mindfulness in nature at a conference on ‘Psychotherapy and the Natural World’ at the Eden Project.

The original invitation to deliver a presentation had been open ended; I could have chosen any theme related to therapy and the natural world. Mindfulness in nature came to me almost immediately, but I wondered if I could say anything about it that was worthwhile.

Once I sat with the notion it opened like a flower, revealing a pattern of connections with other core aspects of my thinking: Ecotherapy of course, (Mindful weeding), spirituality, (Aboriginal deep listening), Focusing (Focusing in Nature), Barry Patterson’s“ listening to the threshold brook”, and on and on.

Sunlight through pine trees

My PhD research identified meditation as one of the pathways of connection with nature that inspired and supported environmental activism. One participant explained that his “connection with the earth” had become “a major part” of who he is. Mindfulness in nature had become a core practice for him:

“just spending time out in nature, just listening. Just looking. Not really thinking too much. It’s good to kind of not think, just become, just let it flow through you I guess” (Harris, 2008).

I’ve realized that the nature connection workshops I’ve been running for years are really mindfulness in nature sessions. Participants do experience a deeper connection with nature, but framing the practice as mindfulness really captures the essence of the work. It also shifts our perception of it: instead of focusing on some outcome – getting a deeper nature connection – it emphasises the process itself. That’s fundamental because mindfulness isn’t about making something happen; it’s simply about being.