Can meditation cure anxiety? An exploration on the art of waiting and wading through one's worries.
Written by Michael Stone
What does the brain do when it has no problems? It creates them. Dust flies through my living room, landing on cups and unwashed dishes, books and stacks of old mail. Let’s say it’s the middle of summer 2020, who knows what day, it doesn’t matter, I’ve been living this way for months. I really should be meditating. I read instead. I write. I play guitar. And it all happens in a sort of haze, it’s almost like nothing happens, nothing goes in or out of my world. My life is a whimsical parody of privilege. I eat better but I don’t notice the food I’m consuming.
When I look up from a plate of spaghetti I realize I haven’t had a few minutes of conscious reflection since January. I justify it. I’m doing meditative activities. But in the meantime, since nothing is happening, my days are on repeat; I’m checked out.
Misconception: mindfulness makes anxiety go away, it’s about relaxing and experiencing inner peace.
Actuality: mindfulness is staring at your anxiety, adjusting yourself to living in time, training yourself to accept change.
Mindfulness does not take you somewhere else but bridges your mind and body. Meditation is just the practice. It doesn’t help you avoid your problems. As someone with few problems, meditation usually brings more to my conscious awareness instead of solving them. But this is a good place for them to be.
You don’t experience any less anxiety, not in the immediate moment. Instead you approach anxiety without fear.
Mindfulness is watching the change take place as it is happening. Not an altered state, but watching your mind move. You don’t experience any less anxiety, not in the immediate moment. Instead you approach anxiety without fear.
Sometimes I’m content with the movement of time. I’m a kid again and everything is unified. My separateness and confusion is just a part of everything sorting itself out. More often it’s like watching a tragedy, the spinning restlessness of my life. But the tragedy is cathartic and only by watching it over time can I learn to approach life with more careful and honest attention.
It’s easier to crack open a beer, play video games, watch movies, retreat into my imagination. But the more diligently I meditate, the more precious all these other activities become, as do my relationships and ideas. I’m doing less, enjoying the limited space of my life, having dignity.
Mindfulness is rebellion in a world bent on future prosperity and instant pleasure.
I sit in an uncomfortable position on the floor, which helps me focus on my body. I breathe and watch my thoughts pass by. Sometimes I think about a word or phrase if I need grounding, something vague, whatever gets me to look at life more objectively and lovingly. Most of the time it’s frustrating; it’s always more difficult to sit down in the first place.
I offer a broken, imperfect and inconsistent rhythm; it has changed my life more than any book. Mindfulness is rebellion in a world bent on future prosperity and instant pleasure. Reordering myself around the present moment is going against my over-productivity, which wins at my expense.
Change in the world begins in the lives of regular people making more conscious choices, refocused on life right in front of them. Meditation is a long game, gambling that life is valuable when nothing’s happening and there’s no satisfaction. It can be a way forward for those of us who are burnt out on politics, on work, on staying at home, on life in general. We’re lost in repetitive days looking for something new. Meditation holds us to the present.
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