Why Meditation Never Served to Awaken Me

Delusions of a spiritual path, part 1

As we look for something that can assist us to live in authenticity with ourselves, many of us choose to commit ourselves to a spiritual discipline. In this essay I’m sharing my personal story about following a path of silent meditation.

The problem was that no matter how dedicated my mediation practice was, outside of retreats I continued playing out the same unconscious and problematic patterns as I had always done.

Eventually, my lack of progress in my daily life had me questioning: is my meditation practice just a way to temporary keep my unconscious habits in check? And is what I thought was a way of awakening, merely a coping mechanism to help me feel at ease with a life that really doesn't work for me? 

Private picture

Private picture

My Years of Silent Meditation

When I first stepped on my spiritual path, I entered a teaching of silent meditation. I loved it. I would go to these retreats in the middle of nowhere, and we would be a group of 20 – 50 people, sitting in silence together, every day, for weeks and months on end. 

In the retreats, everything was organized and catered for: The food was good, the nature was beautiful, and nobody disturbed each other. If we needed to communicate, we wrote notes. In this peaceful, undisturbed environment, I thrived. My social anxiousness let go as I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with anybody else’s mental and emotional states. And since we were still eating together and sitting in the meditation hall together, I felt the blessing of having people around me. This was very different from my life at home, where I was moving about in my daily life mostly on my own. 

During the retreats, there was no need for me to cook, which I often was very uninspired to do at home. And the food we were served were more interesting than what I normally would make for myself. I had only brought a few clothes with me, and they were all white cause that was the custom in the meditation hall. So, there was never no need to worry about what to wear. Because the WIFI-connection seldom worked well, I quickly got bored of attempting to surf on my phone. And after a tranquil evening mediation that always ended with classical music, I mostly slept like a baby. 

In the mornings, we were woken up with a bell 20 minutes before the morning meditation, which was just enough time to get out of bed, take a shower, get dressed and walk to the meditation hall. There was no time for me to consider if I should stay in bed a while longer or get myself up, a dilemma I often tortured myself with in my freelance life at home. 

If I struggled with anything, my meditation teacher would mostly recognize it and send me a note inviting to a private meeting. When we met, he asked me how I was doing, and when I stuttered that I had falling victim of my own aggressive mental patterns, he put his hand on my forehead - and I was in bliss for days afterwards. 

Everything worked perfectly for me on those retreats, and as a result, I felt great. I attended the meditation retreats several months a year for three years, and enjoyed myself deeply. People at home asked me if I didn’t get bored or missed talking, but that never happened to me. I simply loved being around other people without talking involved.

But then, at one point, I started struggling. Because eventually, my aim in investing myself into those retreats were to become more fit at succeeding in my daily life. And although I always felt greatly inspired as I returned home after a retreat - and therefore was able to deal with my daily life in a more calm and disengaged matter - this effect usually wore off in a month or two. And as it did, I saw myself struggling with all the same things that I had always struggled with: 

I found it hard to get up in the morning. I felt anxious relating to people. I was self-sabotaging in my freelance work. I had trouble creating and maintaining friendships. I spent far too much time on my computer. I lived on frozen pizzas and pasta. I was frustrated with my life and felt lonely. I had no idea of how to find a partner, yet alone how to relate to one. And the only thing I knew that made me feel better when nothing worked for me, was to sit in silence and meditate. That always soothed me. 

But…no matter how soothed and calm I felt, I still longed to be a part of a community, experiencing love, succeeding with my freelance work and feeling relaxed about just being myself. And no matter how many mediations retreats I joined and how devoted my daily meditation practice were, the circumstances of my life at home didn’t change significantly. 

And then at one point I realized that although the meditation made me feel really well, it didn’t bring me closer to understand how to master my quest of simply being ME - in the meeting with my noisy, unpredictable and constantly changing world.

 

Is Our Surrender to a Spiritual Authority, Teaching or System Just a Way to Postpone Doing Our Real Work?

Can anyone recognize this situation? I know it cannot just be me having returned home from a retreat and experienced that nothing has really changed. And furthermore, as I dived into this essay, I realized this situation doesn’t just apply for returning home after a retreat. The discovery that our problematic habits are still ruling us, may just as well apply as we let go of a regular yoga or meditation discipline, or upon ending a long-time relationship to a spiritual coach, guru or teacher. 

I call this the issue arising as we let go of our spiritual support system. 

So, my questions for contemplation are: 

  • Are our spiritual support systems - following a teacher, going on retreats, or committing to a discipline of any kind - simply methods to (temporarily) keep our unconscious patterns in check, so we can relax?

  • Nothing wrong with relaxing. But if we tell ourselves that we are on a spiritual path because we are to awaken our consciousness – and all we do is relax - isn’t that a self-delusion?

  • Are we actually using our spiritual support as a coping mechanism? What does being dependent on coping mechanisms to function in life, have to do with self-realization?

  • I even wonder, is our surrender to a spiritual authority, teaching or system just a way to postphone embarking on our real and challenging inner work?

Private picture

Private picture

 

Letting Go of Our Babysitter and Learning to Improvise

I’m writing this to encourage us to be honest with ourselves. If all we want is feeling well, then yoga, retreats, meditation and ashram stays are great in and of themselves. But are we on a quest of self-growth? Then we need to question if our spiritual support system is providing us with tools to master real life? Or is our support system just giving us a much-needed break from having to manage ourselves? 

While we DO need breaks, and having breaks can be of great support to our self-inquiry, breaks are not life. When we find ourselves in a situation – as I did – letting go of our support system only to realize that we haven’t moved at all inside, chances are that our support system were not providing us with tools to manage LIFE. 

And to be honest with you: in my experience, most support systems DON’T. That’s a crucial one to acknowledge! 

The thing is, that mastery of life depends on our ability to improvise. Since our improvisation skills are built upon our self-awareness and familiarity with our unconscious patterns, the training towards mastering life: HAS to go through getting to know and explore our unconscious patterns. 

But, when we surrender to an authority, participate in a retreat or commit ourselves to a spiritual discipline, what is happening is in most cases not an exploration of our unconscious patterns. Quite the contrary: most spiritual support systems just teaches us how to push our unconscious patterns aside, and keep them in check. 

Keeping our unconscious patterns in check is relieving, cause when our patterns doesn’t bother us we feel well-functioning. BUT, then comes the inevitable moment when we are not able to push our unconsciousness aside. And suddenly, we discover that the way we respond to our world is the same as it ever where. 

Do you get me? 

Our personal growth unfolds in a dialogue with an unpredictable life, not in dialogue with a predictable system. Within the defined framework of a spiritual support system, we can only get to know ourselves to a certain point. Therefore, as we move ahead on our journey of self-realization, our aim must be to gradually let go of any needs for a spiritual support system to babysit us, and instead challenge our ability to handle the unpredictable.

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A Love, A Lie and a Meditation Practice