Should I Meditate?

Is this all a dream?

We imagine we are something separate from the whole, that we have free will and choice, that we must decide what to do, that we might get it wrong and ruin our lives or damage the universe. Should we meditate or will that only reinforce the illusion of “me” trying to do something? It seems like we must figure this out and decide.

But the truth is, we’ll see whether we meditate or not. The decider who is supposedly in control of this is a kind of mirage, as meditation may reveal. And, of course, meditation can mean many different things—it comes in diverse flavors as different as night is from day.

Meditation can happen formally or informally, deliberately or spontaneously. Meditation is actually the natural activity of awareness—in that sense, it is non-stop. But there is a difference between being completely lost in thought, hypnotized by the dream world, and being awake to all of this. It is the difference between samsara and nirvana, suffering and liberation. So there is something to be said for deliberate meditation.

I meditate formally—intentionally sitting motionlessly in silence on a cushion, simply being present to what is—every morning and sometimes at other times. There have been periods in my life when I didn’t meditate formally at all, and other times when I went on many long silent meditation retreats every year. I also meditate informally or spontaneously at times throughout any ordinary day—simply being present, doing nothing else.

In sitting down in silence, I re-discover the child-like joy of listening to the sounds of rain and feeling the breathing. Meditation shows me how my mind works—how I do my suffering. It gives me the direct, experiential realization of how fluid, unsubstantial, unresolvable and ungraspable everything that appears is. It reveals the common factor in every different experience—Here-Now / Aware Presence: the immediacy, present-ness, suchness of just this. In meditation, there is an experiential opening into a sense of being boundless, centerless, spacious, and unencapsulated. Meditation also helps in balancing my nervous system and calming the obsessive mind. Over many years of meditating, formally and informally, I’ve become less easily caught up in storylines, dramas, ideas, and beliefs—and more aware of being caught up when it happens.

The more we meditate, the more the line between meditation and “the rest of our life” dissolves. What initially happens only in meditation begins to carry over into every aspect of our lives. We find ourselves being more present and awake in the midst of our daily lives and relationships.

So, I recommend meditation, by which I simply mean sitting down in an open, relaxed, upright posture and doing nothing other than simply being present and aware—feeling the breathing, hearing sounds, seeing the thoughts that come and go, feeling sensations in the body—just this. Nothing more, nothing less.

Not judging any of it, not trying to get rid of anything, not trying to get into any special state—just simply being what is—noticing both the ever-changing nature of experiencing and how it never departs from the ever-present immediacy of here-now.

And, of course, you don’t need to be sitting cross-legged on a meditation cushion—sitting on a chair is fine, but be in an open posture, arms and legs uncrossed, and not slouched or slumped over—and if you can’t do any of this due to physical limitations, do whatever works for you.

I don’t consider formal meditation indispensable, and for some people, it simply isn’t the way to go. We’re all different. But if you’re drawn to it, I’d say, go for it.

And don’t give up if you seem to be failing at it, or if it seems to be making you think more than ever before. Chances are, you’re just seeing the thinking that has always been happening, but just wasn’t being seen before.

And there’s no good or bad meditation. You can’t fail at it. Sometimes the mind is hyper-active, sometimes it quiets down. Sometimes we have expansive experiences, sometimes there’s endless mind activity. Some people have busier minds and more turbulent emotions than others, just as some cities have stormier weather than other cities. The point isn’t to compare ourselves with someone else or to some imaginary ideal, but simply to be present with what is, however it is. Meditation is not result-oriented. It is, in a profound sense, purposeless.

Meditation can be informal and spontaneous—simply taking time, whenever it invites you, throughout the day to stop, look and listen. To be still. To be silent. To do nothing. To simply sit in an armchair and gaze out the window or around the room. It can happen at your desk, on the bus or the train, on an airplane or while riding the subway, in a waiting room, on a park bench, in a hospital bed or a prison cell—wherever you happen to be. You can simply put down your phone or your book, stop talking, and just be. It can be one minute or ten minutes or an hour.

Simply being awake to the immediacy of what is—sounds, bodily sensations, breathing, visual sensations—just this. Without labeling it, without explaining it, without trying to get something out of it, without trying to make something happen or make something stop happening, without judging or evaluating—simply what is, as it is. Simple, simple, simple.

You may discover how enjoyable and refreshing this is. And you can explore directly the nature of reality, the nature of what is—not by reading about it, or thinking about it, or finding out what others say about it, but by looking, listening, sensing, awaring directly—seeing for yourself, seeing what you see.

Eventually it can be noticed that even thinking and imagining and all the things we call distractions are actually nothing other than this aliveness, this presence, this undivided beingness. We can’t actually lose this. We’re not separate from or other than this. This is all there is.

The more we give attention to just this, the more obvious it becomes that there is no center in experiencing, that presence is unbound, that awareness is everywhere, that THIS is shapeless and formless, even as the world of apparent shapes and forms appears.

And everything is included. We don’t need to shut out the world with all its apparent messiness and suffering. In fact, all of that can serve as a wonderful way in which to explore and discover and wake up. It’s much easier to be enlightened on a silent meditation retreat in the country, and much more challenging in a busy office or when we turn on the evening news.

In the weeks just prior to the October 7 attacks on Israel, I had been experiencing a profound deepening of the experiential knowingness of how dream-like and imaginary everything is. And then, just as that deepening realization was unfolding, October 7 and its aftermath happened. Before very long, I was once again feeling that what was happening was very real and very important. It brought me face to face with my ancient koan about the relationship of relative and absolute and what’s real and what isn’t. Going through the turbulence that followed wasn’t a huge mistake, in my view—it allowed for a further deepening. And in that spirit, I offer what follows.

What is Real? Is this all a dream?
Further reflections on what’s unfolding in the world and in our minds:

The now raging, decades-long conflict in Israel-Palestine can be seen as a macrocosm of our minds—our fears (sometimes well-founded) of “the other;” our urge to survive; our claims to territory (of all kinds); our feelings of being pushed out, attacked, wronged, unseen or misunderstood (both real and imaginary); our identities and defenses of those identities. Israel-Palestine tends to be a subject on which many people have strong feelings, and clearly it is a global tinderbox with the potential to ignite a world war. It’s a fertile ground of exploration.

It’s probably a good thing for citizens of a democracy to be educated and informed about global events that affect us. And for people on a spiritual path, there may be a deeper response-ability, the possibility of responding from wholeness—looking deeply into the ways our own minds are working, waking up to boundless presence, the unconditional love that contains it all, and realizing the unresolvability and dream-like nature of everything that we think is happening. Transcending the consensus reality, as it were. Realizing (making real, embodying, being) “the peace that passeth understanding.”

The more deeply we open to that, the more unsubstantial and illusory the whole world drama (and all our personal dramas) seem. In any moment of simply being here, present and aware, it’s utterly clear that, as Nisargadatta said, “It does not matter much what happens, for ultimately the return to balance and harmony is inevitable. The heart of things is at peace.”

But at the same time, in the movie, as human beings with vulnerable bodies, it does matter, the pain and painful circumstances are very real, and the suffering over it may feel totally real as well, and when that’s the case, a statement like Nisargadatta’s can upset or enrage us. If that happens, it can be very revealing to examine what exactly it is that feels threatened by that statement. What is it that feels threatened when the solidity or substantiality of our life story, our problems, our suffering, the suffering of those with whom we identify, or various current events is questioned, or when the world is compared to a dream or a movie?

As I suggested in a previous Substack (Oct 14, “The Movie of Waking Life”), these are questions to live with and explore, not by thinking about them, but by actually exploring them directly with open attention, with awareness, in our own immediate present moment experiencing.

And maybe instead of applying these questions to really horrific situations such as the Oct 7 attacks or the bombing of Gaza, maybe it is easier, more helpful or less threatening—at least initially—to apply them to any ordinary moment, such as eating breakfast, washing the dishes, or reading this Substack article. How substantial is this present experiencing right now? Where is what was happening an hour or a minute ago, much less a year or a decade ago? How real was any of it? What can I know beyond all doubt about what is appearing right here, right now?

In the end, as I see it, we can’t deny or negate either aspect of reality, the transcendent or the human. We live as both. To see only the transcendent can be heartless denial, and to see only the human can be unnecessary suffering on top of the inevitable pain and painful circumstances that this dream-world presents. These two dimensions can inform each other in an endlessly unfolding dance of discovery.

I’ve listened to and read many different and conflicting narratives on Israel-Palestine since October 7. I’ve listened to Sam Harris, Bari Weiss and The Free Press at one end of the spectrum, and to Chris Hedges, Marc Lamont Hill, Scheerpost and Democracy Now at the other. I’ve listened to both Palestinians and Israelis. I’ve listened to Israelis with different views. I even listened to Lex Fridman’s interview with Netanyahu. My understanding has broadened, expanded, deepened and changed in a number of ways, and undoubtedly, it will continue to do so. [I’ve put links to some of these different voices in the comments below].

In recent decades, I’ve viewed the situation mostly from the pro-Palestinian view on the left, but I now have a much deeper appreciation for the Israeli perspective, for the very tough situation they are in (with Hamas promising to carry out more attacks like Oct 7), and also the delicate situation that Biden is in. It has given me more compassion and appreciation for Biden’s handling of it, where previously I had only disagreement with him. Now I really don’t know.

Listening to Sam Harris, Bari Weiss, and Ayaan Hirsi Ali has alerted me to a dimension of this conflict that many on the left, myself included, have been ignoring to our peril, namely the importance of understanding both Islamic ideology, the intentions of Hamas and other Islamic organizations and governments, and the depth of anti-Semitism embedded in this ideology and still rampant in the world. I may not completely agree with Sam or Bari or Ayaan on every single point, but I do think these are crucial elements to understand and not underestimate. I was also deeply affected by this conversation with Sandy Tolan on the history and on Palestinian humanity. I had read his excellent book The Lemon Tree many years ago, and his perspective emphasizes the humanity on both sides and offers some hope.

Society and media have become so polarized and tribal in recent years that it’s easy to be in an information bubble where all you hear is what you already believe. We’re all subject to confirmation bias, where we deliberately avoid listening to or reading anything we think will challenge our views. It’s rarely easy for any of us to listen openly to views we’re convinced are wrong, or views that we fear will undermine the false sense of security we derive from our certainty in our current views. We also have a hard time admitting we were wrong—to do so threatens our self-image and perhaps our sense of control and stability. So to whatever degree all this begins to break down in any of us, I think that’s positive.

And then, if we do change our mind about something, it’s astonishing how quickly we can solidify and identify with our new certainties. I’ve noticed this in myself. It’s a great art to listen openly, to remain open, to not fixate or grasp, to be able to see the truth in different perspectives, and to continually question our own certainties.

I continue to be struck by the multitude of conflicting narratives around the history of this region and the very different ways in which the current situation is seen, as well as the strong emotions that all of it can evoke. I can see this whole struggle from many different perspectives, and I continue to feel empathy for both the Israeli and the Palestinian people. I no longer have an opinion about what either side “should” be doing.

People in Israel feel deeply unsafe (for good reasons), anti-Semitism is on the rise globally, and Hamas has vowed to do more of what it did on Oct 7, so what should Israel do? What they are doing to civilians in Gaza is certainly beyond horrible, and I do fear it will only bring forth more hatred and violence, but I support Israel’s right to defend itself, and I don’t know what they could or should do other than what they are doing. And what should the Palestinians do? I don’t know. Nothing they’ve tried so far seems to have served them very well.

I know everyone involved on all sides is doing the only possible in every moment, and I know that from a larger perspective it is all an undivided movement of energy doing what it does, like ever-changing kaleidoscopic Rorschach blots that the pattern-seeking mind is always reifying and interpreting.

Bodies, needs, interests, concerns, urges, and actions—family situations, national events, international events—all of these arise and fade as passing appearances in a formless event… These forms don’t actually exist; they’re like ripples in flowing water.

—Darryl Bailey

We must all find the balance between ignoring what’s happening and being so immersed in the news and commentary that it becomes obsessive and damaging to our mental, physical and emotional well-being. We each have different levels of sensitivity and tolerance, and we’re each called to respond in different ways. Some will be more involved in the political level, some more in the transcendent dimension, some exclusively in one or the other, and some in both. We each need to find our own way. Or more accurately, we discover our way from moment to moment. The controller is an illusion.

May we all remain open to seeing something new and changing our minds, may we have compassion for the human beings on all sides (which doesn't mean agreeing with or supporting what they do), and may we all find that placeless place here and now to which Nisargadatta referred when he said, “The heart of things is at peace.” That is “the peace that passeth understanding,” the peace that is here even in the midst of conflict and war.

Love to all….