I once did a meditation course where, for three hours a day, as part of our 14-hour a day daily meditation schedule, we were supposed to meditate in the meditation hall on our meditation cushions… completely immobile.  No twitching, no itching, no fidgeting, no scratching, no moving at all.

We were also supposed to remain completely silent, which people were pretty good at, unless lunch had been particularly fibrous.

We were also supposed to be only paying attention to our breathing and not do anything else. Not to pay attention to anyone or anything else. Just meditation mindfulness.

So during this one particular session, I heard the man sitting diagonally in front of me fidgeting every now and then. At one point, I don't know why, it occurred to me to open my eyes and see what he was doing. And just as I opened my eyes I saw the meditation teacher, who is mid 70s Burmese grandmother — a very loving, kind, and usually quiet woman  — point at this gentleman and scream at the top of her lungs, "GET OUT NOW!"

Not surprisingly, I was a bit shocked by the entire event, but because we had taken a vow of noble silence and were not supposed to speak to anybody for the entire meditation retreat, it wasn't until five days later that I was able to find this gentleman and ask them what happened.

His response was perhaps one of the most important lessons I ever learned about meditation mind.

Before I share, it though, I should back up and say something about the previous 10 years I had been meditating.  I had been very diligent about my practice. Not militaristic, but certainly strict. Making efforts to do it right.  Doing a lot of "trying to be accepting of what is" when what was going on was unpleasant or painful. Trying to remain calm while my internal world was in turmoil (and sometimes my external world also).

In fact, when the difficulties that I was experiencing in my life got particularly challenging, I was convinced that I need to meditate more to address the situation… that is, to fix my life.

With that background, you'll understand why his response was so radical and life-changing.  He said that after he left the meditation hall, in a bit of shock and confusion, the teacher came up told him that he was making a lot of contortions and tensing up his face and body and working much too hard.

She said, "You can't fight your way to peacefulness.  You can't force yourself to have equanimity. W, what you can do is notice when you're already experiencing even just a small bit of calmness and then come and gently encourage it.  So, why don't you take a walk, smoke a cigarette, have a nap, get something to eat… and when you're feeling a little relaxation come back in the meditation hall… like being a good friend yourself.  Then practice."

By taking this teaching to heart, not only was I able to bring a new kind of aliveness and freshness and excitement to my meditation practice.  But even more, I later discovered how you don't need to take a break from your life in order to meditate.  You don't need to walk away or have a cigarette or a drink or escape.

You can actually find those moments of calmness even in the middle of what seems like the most stressful thing possible.  And then by gently befriending that already-existing calmness, meditation becomes inseparable from daily life.  You don't need to set up a separate daily meditation practice. Whatever happens in your day, that becomes your practice, and then it's no longer something we call practice.  It simply life.

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