Meditation
Sitting in meditation, turning attention towards the Self, maintaining stillness and restricting unnecessary bodily movements is undoubtedly a valuable discipline.
Yet there is something that perhaps needs to be watched even more meticulously:
Insistence (Aagraha)
Am I sitting still because stillness is helping awareness?
Or is there, somewhere beneath the surface, an insistence on being perfectly still?
Is attention moving towards the Self, or is attention subtly becoming occupied with posture, breathing and physical discipline?
Is meditation actually taking place, or is there an effort to create the appearance, even internally, of being a person who meditates well?
And if appreciation were to come from someone observing the posture, would that appreciation create a subtle sense of satisfaction?
These are not accusations. They are simply things worth observing.
Because discipline itself is not the problem.
The question is whether discipline remains a means towards awareness, or whether it becomes another object of attachment.
What is the purpose of meditation?
What exactly is meditation intended to accomplish?
Is meditation the posture?
Is it controlled breathing?
Is it remaining physically still for fifteen minutes?
Is it following every instruction of a guided meditation perfectly?
Or are these methods, useful supports intended to facilitate awareness?
If they are methods, then there is a danger in confusing the method with the purpose.
Consider a simple situation.
It is 6 a.m.
The decision is made to sit for fifteen minutes.
The posture is established.
The body is kept still.
Breathing is observed.
The instructions are followed carefully.
Everything appears disciplined.
Yet what is happening within?
There may be thoughts such as:
“Don't move.”
“Keep the back straight.”
“Stay focused.”
“Don't get distracted.”
“Come back to the breath.”
Then, perhaps:
“Seven minutes have passed. Eight more to go.”
And eventually:
“Why is this taking so long?”
At that point, something interesting may have happened.
Instead of observing, there is supervision.
Instead of awareness, there is enforcement.
Instead of simply being present, there is an attempt to manage the experience.
Could that too be insistence?
Can an experience be manufactured?
This leads to another question.
Can meditation as an experience simply be manufactured by following the correct procedure?
The conditions can certainly be created.
A particular posture can be adopted.
The body can be kept still.
Breathing can be regulated.
The eyes can be closed.
A guided meditation can be followed.
Fifteen minutes can be completed.
But can awareness itself be commanded into existence?
Can an inner experience be demanded merely because all the external conditions have been fulfilled?
Perhaps a method can prepare the ground.
But an experience cannot necessarily be ordered to appear.
The moment there is an expectation,
“Something must happen now.”
“This meditation must be good.”
“A particular experience should come.”
another layer may have entered the process.
There is then an attempt not merely to observe what is present, but to produce a desired state.
That too deserves observation.
When discipline becomes a burden
Perhaps the important question is therefore not:
“Is there enough discipline?”
But:
“Is discipline supporting awareness, or is insistence turning discipline into a burden?”
There is a subtle difference.
Discipline can create the space for awareness.
Insistence can make the discipline itself the object of attention.
Then even meditation can become a performance.
The body is held rigidly.
The posture is repeatedly corrected.
The minutes are counted.
Distraction is treated as failure.
A voice in a guided meditation gives an instruction, and the mind immediately responds:
“Come back.”
“Focus.”
“Don't get distracted.”
But perhaps even this deserves to be seen.
There is distraction.
Then there is the recognition of distraction.
Then there may be an insistence that distraction must not happen.
These are three different things.
If the third is not noticed, the practice can quietly move from awareness into control.
What does awareness actually mean?
Perhaps awareness is not simply the ability to force attention back whenever it wanders.
Perhaps awareness also means seeing the wandering itself.
Discomfort arises. It is seen.
Impatience arises. It is seen.
The desire to finish arises. It is seen.
The desire for appreciation arises. It is seen.
Pride in maintaining perfect posture arises. It is seen.
The thought, “This is going very well,” arises. It is seen.
The thought, “I have been sitting perfectly still,” arises. It is seen.
There is no immediate need to label these as good or bad.
There is no immediate need to suppress them.
There is simply an opportunity to see.
And perhaps this is where the distinction between awareness and control becomes important.
Control says:
“This should not be happening.”
Awareness says:
“This is happening.”
What then is meditation?
Perhaps meditation is not merely a method.
And perhaps it is not merely an experience.
A method can support the practice.
An experience may arise during the practice.
But awareness can observe the entire movement.
The body is sitting.
Thoughts are arising.
Sensations are changing.
Breathing is happening.
Attention is moving.
Insistence is arising.
Resistance is arising.
Expectation is arising.
Even the desire to meditate correctly is arising.
All of this can become an object of observation.
Then meditation need not be reduced to:
“How perfectly was the session performed?”
The deeper question becomes:
“What is actually being observed?”
The movement towards “I” and “mine”
There is perhaps an even subtler layer here.
Discomfort arises, and immediately it becomes “my discomfort.”
A thought arises, “my thought.”
An emotion arises, “my emotion.”
A meditation session takes place, “my meditation.”
Insistence arises, “my insistence.”
Even an achievement becomes “my discipline.”
The language itself can reveal how quickly experience is appropriated.
So perhaps even this can be watched.
Instead of immediately saying:
“I am uncomfortable,”
there can simply be recognition:
“Discomfort is present.”
Instead of:
“I am becoming impatient,”
simply:
“Impatience is arising.”
Instead of:
“I am distracted,”
simply:
“Distraction has arisen.”
This is not merely a linguistic exercise.
It can become a way of noticing how quickly experience is converted into “I” and “mine.”
And perhaps that very movement is worth observing in meditation.
The real discipline
Then perhaps the deeper discipline is not merely:
“The body will remain still for fifteen minutes.”
It may be:
“Awareness will remain present to whatever arises, including insistence, resistance, expectation, identification and the desire to control.”
If the body moves, that movement can be observed.
If discomfort arises, discomfort can be observed.
If impatience arises, impatience can be observed.
If pride arises, pride can be observed.
If the mind wanders, wandering can be observed.
If there is an urge to force attention back, that urge can also be observed.
Nothing needs to be immediately converted into “me” or “mine.”
Nothing needs to be immediately rejected either.
Because there is a possibility of sitting absolutely still for fifteen minutes while remaining completely occupied with posture, performance, discipline, progress and expectation.
And there is also a possibility that one moment of clearly seeing insistence as it arises may reveal more than fifteen minutes of mechanically perfect stillness.
So perhaps the essential question is not:
“Am I doing meditation correctly?”
Nor even:
“Am I disciplined enough?”
Probably, it is simply:
“What is happening right now, and is it being seen without insistence, without resistance, and without immediately making it ‘I’ or ‘mine’?”
Maybe, that is where meditation moves from a procedure towards awareness.
And perhaps that is where the real practice begins.
