Rose Wang

My relationship with meditation has been rocky at best. Most times, my brain only engaged in two modes during meditation: sleep or mania. As a result, I turned to other modes of self-improvement, such as coaching, therapy, group therapy, reading self-help books, and talking to friends for hours on end. In all honesty, each of these methods has shown varying degrees of effectiveness. However, I've come to recognize that in addition to therapeutic approaches, I inadvertently learned to bury my negative self-talk even deeper, rendering it barely discernible. The clincher came when a therapist from Leverage Research told me I had the most critical inner voice of anyone she’s ever worked with. This served as a profound wakeup call. I realized that I was increasingly more impressed with myself over time, but I didn’t necessarily like myself, let alone love myself. It was all very confusing.

Some clarity dawned on me after day 2.5 of my first 3-day meditation sit. I had my first spiritual experience. During one of our teacher’s dharma* talks at night, he told his own story. He’s at a place in his life where all the major aspects of his life are aligned:

1. He loves what he does as a meditation teacher.
2. He found the love of his life, and they’re now married.
3. They’re raising their goddaughter with another couple, and she is the light of their lives.
4. He is living in what he thinks is the best town in the world.

And yet, he still suffers. Even now, he feels whirling bad feelings daily, and what’s worse is that he’s constantly afraid that he’s going to lose it all. My body experienced an intense reaction when he told that story. I realized this was me — I have been checking all these boxes in my life: great friends, great career, impact on society, etc. And for what? I have been mostly successful at checking harder and harder boxes, but somehow, I am not feeling better. The moment this insight hit me, the tension in my body evaporated like mist under the first rays of morning sunlight.

This moment was special, because I grasped the essence of what people meant when they spoke of experiencing profound insight within their bodies. I felt the most light I had felt in the last two years. It was that experience of lightness that led me to my second insight — the mind and body are distinct systems, and just because our cognitive parts are awakened and aligned, it doesn’t mean our bodies are. If either system is neglected, the suffering will persist and intensify beyond the actual pain we endure. Why? We unconsciously project the invisible suffering we feel onto other aspects of our lives, even those that are genuinely fulfilling. We then erode those great but less-than-perfect aspects of our lives with immature tendencies. This familiar cycle of self-destruction suddenly illuminated itself, and I felt in my body that the only way through was to sit and observe these thoughts and sensations over time.

The actual sitting was quite difficult. I was pretty bored 1.5 days in, and I ended up finding bubble bottles in a storage area and spent the rest of the day blowing bubbles during non-sit times when no one was looking. Bad Rose. That said, our teacher said meditation is 90% sitting still in silence, and you can’t really go wrong if you do just that. Sitting for long periods is hard; my back and knee pains ballooned 10min into sits, and it was hard to get through the rest of the hour without moving or obsessing over the pain. But I did it, and I kept doing it. Over time, these psychosomatic pains lessened, and I realized I could sit through the pain. Knowing I could do it was all I needed for the pain to disappear.

A metaphor surfaced during one of my hour-long meditations. Life, like a skilled dealer, presents us with a distinct set of cards at various times, yet the majority of our hand remains hidden from view. This constant state of uncertainty leaves us grappling with the ever-changing game, unsure of which moves to make, especially with limited visibility of our cards. However, the practice of meditation has helped me progressively uncover more cards, equipping me with more insight to play life's hand with increasing grace and wisdom. With each sit, I embrace a deeper understanding of myself and the world around me, forging a life with more clarity and less suffering.

*In Buddhism, dharma specifically refers to the teachings of the Buddha. Thus, dharma talks teach the practice of Buddhism.