Trying (and Failing): Meditation
What matters is I tried... and found something better.
Recently, I found myself thinking about various things I wanted to try at one point or another in my life but ended up failing spectacularly once I finally gave it a go, only to never do it again.
Relatable? Sure!
Is this a new series? Perhaps!
Trying (and failing). This is how we figure out who we are and what we’re into, though… right? Especially in our twenties. Picking up a new hobby here and there and making it your whole personality for a few months is the norm when you’re that age. Some things stick, but others are a flash in the pan.
Like the time I wanted to explore my creative side with ART!
I thought it would fun to buy a bunch of painting supplies to make ~abstract art~ and set up a easel on my porch, look out over the retention pond, and let nature inspire me… only go through exactly three canvases that look like an insane person threw paint at them (and not in a chic way). They are buried forever in a closet and will never see the light of day. Hey, at least I was honest with myself after the third one — I’m better off going to one of those “wine and canvas” places, where I’m guided through a piece. I suppose I could do that with YouTube or some old Bob Ross videos, but, meh. I have enough things going on.
From the age of nineteen until I turned twenty-five, when I was trying to find myself, I embraced (a watered-down version of) the hippie lifestyle. Wearing long flowy flowered skirts, loving the sunshine, going to jam band gigs with my pals, and truly exhibiting the whole “peace, man” vibe. These are about the only hippie-ish traits that have stayed with me through all these years. Gawwwd, do I love a flowy skirt/dress moment, being bathed the sunshine, and vibing with my favorite band (and friends) under the stars.
Anyway, way back then, I picked up The Hippie Handbook by Chelsea Cain at Tee’s Daydreams, a little shop — we’ll call it a boutique — run by the quintessential hippie lady in a village-ish area of my city. After cruising the table of contents, I knew this would be a fun, silly read… and maybe I’d pick up some tips on how to be a better hippie.
I flipped through the book and found a chapter on meditation, gave a quick read, and thought yes, I can do this! I figured: if I’m going to be a hippie, I should definitely know how to meditate. And maybe how to make a cool dandelion crown (of course, this is another chapter of the book). I mean, hell — I enjoyed doing yoga and the smell of burning incense, so meditation felt like the next right thing for me to try.
Some of the other chapters of this book are:
How to Tell Time like a Hippie
How to Anthropomorphize Inanimate Objects
How to Macrame
How to Care for a Fern
How to Take Care of Birkenstocks
How and When to Flash a Peace Sign
How to Choose a Mantra
How to Get a Copy of Your File from the FBI
How to Run Away to Morocco
Spoiler alert: I never asked for my FBI file (because, lol, duh — why would anyone actually do that), learned how to macrame, or ran away to Morocco. However, I did think about getting a fern at one point, and I do wear Birks in the summer, but that’s about it. I might still flash a peace sign every now and again, too.
In retrospect, maybe this post should have been titled “Trying (and Failing): Being a Hippie” — oh well. 🤷🏼♀️
Back to my early twenties — oh, dear reader. I was such a sweet, sweet summer child back then.
I read the meditation chapter twice, taking the time to absorb the directions:
I found a lovely spot in my apartment, closed my eyes, and attempted to transcend, or, as the author instructs — “bliss out”.
Wow, did I suck at it. Truly, there can be no one worse at trying to meditate than me!
I sat there, concentrating on my breathing, attempting to let the thoughts pass through my mind. I tried to envision the piece of “smooth silk” and focus solely on it, imagining it was flowing in the breeze before me. But I couldn’t go further than that. I sat there with myself, in the lotus position keeping my eyes closed.
Absolutely nothing happened.
It felt empty. The silence was deafening. And then… I kind of felt embarrassed, even though I was alone in my room, sitting with my eyes closed, in the stillness.
This can’t be it, I remember thinking. Aren’t I supposed to feel something? What was I missing? Was I doing something wrong? Maybe I’m not open-minded enough. That’s what someone on the internet said, but that couldn’t be it.
What if I just can’t sit with myself for an extended period of time and completely shut off my thoughts? Is that so bad?
I have tried to meditate again since, too, quite unsuccessfully. I really wanted to be the kind of person who finds peace with this sort of practice. I have since come to the realization that… I am simply not. And that’s okay!
This is much like how I want to be person who enjoys La Croix as a casual beverage, but I can’t get past its taste, something akin to what static television would feel like on my tongue. I know I’m not the only one, and so, that brings me some peace!
Sometimes, we just can’t fit inside the presented box. How boring would the world be if that was the case? What “traditional” meditation is to some — like the instructions provided in that book — won’t work for everyone.
I gave it an honest try several times, and at some point I realized that as defined, it isn’t for me.
Meditation is a practice in which an individual uses a technique to train attention and awareness and detach from reflexive, "discursive thinking", achieving a mentally clear and emotionally calm and stable state, while not judging the meditation process itself. {Wikipedia}
Hey now… this is what I was after, with the desire to try and practice meditation: “achieving a mentally clear and emotionally calm and stable state.”
Full stop! That’s it!
Meditation, to me, is the act of “blissing out” much like the author wrote, but it just looks a little different than what was instructed on the page or the way practitioners lead. I believe I can choose to how move I wish to forward with the practice, because what I’m truly after is that calm, stable state.
To achieve that state, I bliss out by taking a walk in the sunshine. I listen to music with my headphones on and read books. I lie back with my windows open listening the birds playing in the trees. I do yoga from time to time (mostly to help my back, but to also feel calm while moving my body). I write in my journal.
So maybe in the end, it wasn’t exactly failing? I found something similar that was much more suited for me and fills my desire to practice stillness. That has to count for something, right?
Who needs traditional meditation when you can find peace in these things? Not me! I think I’ll head outside for a walk or sit my ass in the grass with a book or my journal, and let nature take me to my meditative state of bliss. ✌🏻
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