I never wanted to meditate

I’m somewhere over the Indian Ocean, between London and Singapore. It’s a day flight, but everyone seems to be asleep. I’ve just finished Wicked and a block of Ritter dark chocolate with hazelnuts. I’m not tired.

I think about reading A Moveable Feast. Instead, I close my eyes and meditate.

On an ordinary day, you meditate twice—twenty minutes in the morning, twenty in the afternoon. But on a plane, Limor, my meditation teacher, says you can meditate as much as you want.

For years, people told me to meditate. Close friends, family, Jerry Seinfeld, David Lynch. “It’s life-changing,” they said. And for years, I actively avoided it. I thought the goal was to make your mind quiet, and that felt impossible.

My mind is very active—constantly darting between thoughts, ideas, scenes. I often write in my journal, I exhaust myself. So the idea of forty minutes a day, alone with my mind, “meditating,” sounded like torture.

But in January this year, one month after moving back to Sydney, a cloud came over me. I felt flat, faded, like I was disappearing into myself.

That’s when I started therapy. Decided to face things instead of run.

Rick Rubin has a “rule of three”—if three different people recommend something, he takes it as a sign. My friend Mads was the third. She sent me a link to a free ‘Intro to Transcendental Meditation’ talk with Limor.

She said, Go.

I said, Okay.

Dory came with me. It was close by. Only an hour. We’d get Yochi after.

In the talk, Limor spoke about the benefits of meditation: better mood, better health, more energy, more creativity, a sharper mind. The number one reason people sign up, though, is insomnia. I’ve had bouts of insomnia since I was five. A course was starting in two weeks. There was no way out.

In the course, I was given my mantra—a word I’ll never say out loud and never write down. You repeat your mantra silently during meditation. When thoughts come (and they will), you notice them, then gently return to your mantra.

Thinking wasn’t something to resist, but something to notice and release.

This changed things.

Meditating feels like being underwater at the beach. For twenty minutes, you submerge. You’re aware of movement and noise above, but your mantra pulls you deeper. It’s an anchor.

Each thought that pops up is like a stress bubble rising from the depths of your mind. The more bubbles, the more thoughts (and stress) your body needs to release.

The first two months were hard. Waking up at 5:40am felt aggressive. But once I understood that waking up earlier to meditate would give me more energy, not less, I accepted it. And I like mornings.

The afternoon meditation was harder. I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to eat peanut butter, make tea, write emails, edit a podcast, go to the post office—anything else. Twenty minutes felt endless. Begrudgingly, I carried on.

One Sunday, I woke up and thought, Fuck it, it’s Sunday. I’m taking the day off. No meditation.

The truth is, that Sunday sucked. I was more irritable and things just felt complicated.

On Monday, I meditated twice.

“Meditation gives you secrets,” my friend Gabs said.

I love that. I agree.

Sometimes, when I’m meditating, it feels like I’m floating between awake and asleep. My mantra pulls me deeper and deeper, but as I fall, things get clearer. And down there, hidden beneath the surface, unexpected thoughts and ideas reveal themselves.

Nick Cave said:

“You only need ten songs, ten beautiful and breathtaking accidents, to make up a record. You have to be patient and alert to the little miracles nestled in the ordinary.”

Since I started meditating, I’ve felt lighter. Brighter. Clearer. More patient. More creative. More open to the little secrets nestled in the ordinary.

Why did I resist it for so long? Like I resisted journaling. And therapy. And (currently) painting.

Why do we avoid the things we need most?

Maybe because we’re scared to slow down.
Scared of what we'll find.
Scared to face ourselves.

I think deep down I avoided meditating because I knew once I started, I wouldn’t stop. It felt like a big commitment. And who has the time?

Well the secret is, meditation gives you back ten times more than it takes.

And, turns out, it’s not as scary as it seems.

I never wanted to meditate.
Now, I don’t want to stop.

JYK 🤍

Hope you have a beautiful weekend :)