Why meditate? / by Steve Peters

Berlin Buddha, by Zhang Huan (2007) – six tons of compacted ash from burnt incense

Berlin Buddha, by Zhang Huan (2007) – six tons of compacted ash from burnt incense

Feb. 13, 2021

A friend of mine recently posted about quitting her long-term meditation practice. After twenty-plus years she was feeling frustrated by her apparent lack of noticeable progress and finally decided to give up on it.

I get it.

I don't talk about it much, but I've practiced meditation for over twenty years now. In all that time I don't think I've ever experienced real samadhi (deep concentration). Like my friend, my mind is just as filled with random thoughts as ever, and I'm just as prone to get caught up in them as ever. And like her, I sometimes feel like a failure as a meditator and think about quitting. So why do I keep doing it?

We all have different reasons for meditating, different goals. Some people do it to relax, or to lower their blood pressure, or to soothe themselves when they feel anxious. Others do it to develop discipline. Some hope to attain blissful states of consciousness. Some are searching for enlightenment.

I’m not a hardcore Buddhist, but as I understand it, the greatly simplified definition of Enlightenment (aka awakening, realization, nirvana) is a state of profound insight into the nature of being that leads to liberation from samsara, the cycle of birth, death and rebirth that is perpetuated by our actions in any given lifetime (karma).

Buddhism views earthly existence as being ultimately unsatisfactory. Not that life is unrelenting misery and pain, but the truth is that no matter how blessed one's life may be, suffering still arises; everyone and everything is impermanent, and none of us can avoid illness, old age, and death. In that case, if one believes in reincarnation then avoiding rebirth becomes a compelling goal to strive for.

My guess is that reincarnation was the prevailing (Hindu) belief in India at the time of the Buddha and ended up being grafted onto Buddhism by default. The Buddha himself was reluctant to comment about what happens after death and resisted those who pressed him on the subject. I have no idea what happens when we die, but I don't consider reincarnation to be any more or less believable than any other ancient mythology. I tend to believe I only have this one life, and death will likely be the end of whatever it is that might be called "me." I feel reasonably comfortable with that. And if I turn out to be wrong, that's okay too.

But if the ultimate goal of meditation is to put an end to death and rebirth, then what is the point of meditating if one doesn't believe in reincarnation? I once asked a Buddhist teacher about this and her answer stuck with me: "Enlightenment is really just letting go of greed (clinging), hatred (aversion), and ignorance (delusion). That seems possible, doesn't it?" I had to agree that it does. Not easy, but maybe possible. I asked if it's possible to accomplish that without meditating. "Yeah, I guess you could. But you should still probably meditate."

Whatever a person frequently thinks and reflects on, that will become the inclination of their mind. – The Buddha

I have few goals in life, but the main one is to cause as little harm as possible. There's plenty of suffering already without adding to it. Harm is generally a result of our clinging, aversion, and delusion, expressed through our words and actions, which are rooted in our thoughts. So for me the purpose of meditation is to train the mind to observe my thoughts, and to use that awareness when I’m not meditating to notice my thoughts before they manifest as harmful words or actions.

There are many different forms of meditation, even within the various sects of Buddhism itself, as well as other non-Buddhist traditions. I started out in the Soto Zen tradition, doing zazen (sitting meditation) – facing a wall with eyes partly open but unfocused, counting my exhales up to ten, and returning to my breath whenever I noticed my mind wandering. That sounds simple, but it's actually quite difficult.

For the last five years or so I've mostly done a practice from the Theravadan tradition called metta (Loving-Kindness), which involves silently repeating a simple benevolent phrase as one’s object. The one I use is: [inhale] May you be happy and healthy; [exhale] May you be free of clinging, aversion, and delusion. This image of well-being is alternately offered for someone you feel close to, someone neutral, and someone who you find "difficult." It is also offered to oneself.

That might sound a little woo-woo, but I don't think of metta as a magical spell that will somehow miraculously transform the person for whom it is offered. I believe it's really about transforming yourself by developing kindness and compassion, which will then benefit everyone you encounter. As the Buddhist teacher Christina Feldman says: "Compassion is the capacity to liberate others from your fixed views of them."

I understand that for some people offering metta for someone who has caused great harm may seem like too much of an ethical compromise. Yet I find I can offer it for anyone without feeling like a hypocrite. Because really, who would I not want to be free of greed, hatred, and ignorance?

So I continue to meditate every day and try to live according to the dharma as best I can. And when I feel discouraged, I try to remember an old saying in meditation circles: If you want to know how your practice is doing, look at what is happening in your life, not what happens on the cushion.