I started meditating at the age of 40. Like many who take up a meditation practice, I was dealing with considerable trauma, but my first meditation practice was Transcendental Meditation (TM), not something generally considered to be part of the more widely recognised modern mindfulness practice. The common narrative of meditation as an effective response to stress is very much a dominant one, and indeed the most recognised approach today is called Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR). However, when I had recovered from the worst ravages of trauma, I kept on with a meditation practice and began exploring different approaches to meditation, eventually training to become a mindfulness teacher. More interesting than what triggered my meditation practice is why I continued to practice and to explore, how that practice has evolved, and why I might have chosen meditation in the first place as a response to trauma..
I could have chosen many different ways of dealing with trauma – counselling, psychotherapy, medication, religion. Those were open to me, and if I had a complete breakdown then maybe one of those would have been core to my recovery. In fact, I did read widely – I bought and read every self-help book I could find, and applied quite a bit of learning from them. However, the attitude to mental health and the acceptability of contemplative approaches to life were quite different in the mid 1990s – there was little help I could call upon at the time from the NHS, unless my symptoms were much more acute.
When I learnt TM, I was well on the road to recovery. I had started to resolve the challenges of life as a single parent of three young children, moved the home to where I could get good family support, and found work that meant I could balance priorities between earning enough to keep the family going and having enough time for myself and my family. I was still quite traumatised, but coping. TM added some stress recovery, and in particular helped me to be more calm, with a significant improvement in my sleep.
TM kept me going for a good 5 years, 20 minutes twice a day. I started to resolve problems and re-engage in life, resuming a hobby in amateur theatre and navigating a complex work and family life balance. I read what I could about TM, including some of the spiritual background to the practice. I went to a monthly TM practice group. I knew it was doing me a lot of good, but I did not really understand it, and I was not finding the explanations I needed from the TM community.
The writers that inspired me mostly came from a Buddhist background. I read what I could find and became interested in what little was available on the scientific underpinning of meditation. For various reasons I was wary of spiritual approaches that involved belief systems that did not welcome too much questioning. Nevertheless, I tried various meditation classes from Buddhist schools, as well as a TM derivative ACEM. I continued to benefit in terms of my general wellbeing.
I eventually found myself attending a Tibetan Buddhist group which seemed to be very open. I attended my first meditation retreats, and explored some different meditation approaches. There were some aspects of Tibetan Buddhism that I was uneasy with, but I got quite involved and learnt a good deal. I am very grateful for that period, and I have a deep respect for that Buddhist tradition, but still I was not getting answers to the questions about how and why meditation worked for me, and some of the unusual side effects that I was experiencing. Most of my questions were interpreted in terms of formal teachings, rather than explanations directly pertinent to my personal experience.
As I approached retirement age (I was lucky to be able to retire on a pension at 60), I decided I wanted to learn more about meditation and how to teach it. That led me ultimately to doing a masters programme in mindfulness at Bangor University. Life had changed dramatically from when I first started to meditate – I had remarried, my children had grown up, I had step-children who were grown up, and life was much rosier than 20 years earlier when I was in the middle of a huge life crisis.
The masters course was not what I expected. It was “experiential” and based around an iterative, inductive training in how to teach Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction. The theory was not very explicit, and I found myself particularly challenged in terms of reflective writing. At the end of the first year I might have quit, but a certain dogged determination kept me going. I continued my reading, and began to teach mindfulness. Somehow I completed the masters, but still feeling I only partially understood mindfulness and meditation. However, I connected with a community that was more open about meditation experience, and where open dialogue on the effects of meditation practice are positively encouraged. I learnt at least as much from my peers on the masters programme as I did from the trainers.
There is a maxim that says that if you want to really understand something, teach it to others. It is as much to those who came on my courses as to those who trained me that I owe a great debt. I have taught MBSR to groups and individuals for over ten years, and each time I teach I learn more about myself, about meditation, and about its effect on others. I’ve continued my training, and explored different branches of contemporary mindfulness, including compassion-based practices. I maintain my professional registration with BAMBA and do regular meditation retreats in line with their guidance.
In terms of understanding meditation, I have a greater understanding of its effects on myself and on others, with some scientific insight on some aspects of why it works. I’ve also realised that it is much more than a technique for managing stress and enhancing wellbeing, rather it is part of a shift in life orientation. I have a deeper appreciation of various spiritual traditions, including Buddhist, Vedic, Yogic and Christian, and where contemplative practices fit.
So, why did I latch on to meditation at a time of deep crisis, then continue to practice, when there might have been many other routes I might have followed? From an early age I had a level of curiousity on why things worked – if a mechanical toy broke, I would take it apart and explore its innards, sometimes working out how to repair it. I was a sickly child with asthma and recurrent bronchitis, and so I missed a great deal of school, but compensated by reading every bit of print I could get my hands on. It was only when my health recovered in my early teens that I showed any academic potential, and that was fuelled by a natural ability in maths. My reading continued to include philosophy and I found a large collection of books on spirituality in the library.
Whilst I was studying my maths degree, I started to attend the theatre, and slowly got engrossed – over three years I read my way through G.B. Shaw’s entire works. Later on in my 20’s I found an amateur theatre group, and for the next 15 years was involved in many amateur productions. I was not a natural actor, but became interested in method acting – if you want a treatise on embodiment and emotion regulation, read Stanislavsky. I even directed a few plays. Theatre helped me considerably in gaining insight into self and others, and no doubt underpins a lot of my mindfulness teaching. As a naturally shy person, it also helped me considerably to deal with groups, and that fed into my career in many ways.
In my late 20’s, my youngest brother had his first of many psychotic episodes. He was sectioned and spent several months in a psychiatric unit. The impact on me and the wider family was dramatic. I questioned my own psychological stability. Over the coming years I witnessed him recover then have a further breakdown, each time some aspect of his life falling apart. I started reading around psychology to try and understand what was going on. I developed an interest in Jungian psychology, and read Alan Watts. My brother’s illness made me reflect quite deeply on my own psychology, as many of his obsessions were in some sense exaggerations of my own fears, but he seemed to have no restraints during psychotic episodes.
About this time I read a little about Transcendental Meditation, and considered learning it, but the cost was high, and I could not justify it with a young family and many financial demands. It appealed as the few books available were indicative of positive benefits. So the idea of learning to meditate was seeded in my 20’s only to germinate over a decade later. At the time there were few books on meditation practice and meditation was not commonly discussed.
At the point of turning my life around, a friend mentioned that they had a regular TM practice. I was curious, asked quite a few questions, and decided that it was worth a try. I found a teacher, did the initiations, and started a regular practice. I felt immediate relief from some of the stresses and strains, and started to sleep better. It took some effort to put the regular practice into an over full day, but I managed it. There were challenges such as an inexplicable tightness in my neck and shoulders that would suddenly come on and go, but the benefits far outweighed the difficulties.
I did not widely share that I had a meditation practice. The internet was in its infancy, and mindfulness had not entered the public consciousness. The conditions, however, were right for me personally to adopt a meditation practice, to keep it up, and to further explore meditation. In that time, mindfulness entered the public consciousness as a “good thing” spurred on by the internet. Information about meditation became more accessible, and it was rapidly treated not as a slightly weird thing to do but as something to explore.
At the 30 year point, do I understand more about meditation practice and how it works? It is a resounding yes, but I feel I have only just scratched the surface. A decade ago the masters at Bangor University gave me a few clues, and my experience as a teacher helped me realise the effect it could have. I’m sure my personal practice will continue to evolve, and I will continue to read, research and do a little more teaching. Mindfulness has a lot to offer society, but the field is in its infancy and still trying to understand how best to widely share its value. Meditation has been around for thousands of years, long before the Buddha incorporated it in his life and teachings, and there are many forms which offer different things in different contexts.
So, after thirty years of meditation practice, what has changed for me?
Firstly, my curiosity has grown. I still devour new books on meditation and mindfulness. I’m happy to be open about it and discuss it, and where appropriate teach it. My personal practice has evolved considerably, and that helps me explain it more carefully to others. I don’t evangelise, and I know that meditation practice is not appropriate for everyone, but I am open to helping anyone who wants to learn.
Secondly, the value is in day-to-day living. I deal with the stresses and strains of life very differently. One of the core values of regular meditation practice is that you see your own personal drama in the wider context – psychologically this is known as decentering. It does not remove you from your problems, but it gives you some deeper insight into them and how to deal with them. It does not make me immune to life’s challenges, far from it, but it does mean I deal with them in a more measured way.
An unexpected benefit has been in the way I relate to and deal with others. I have learnt to listen and to honour other people’s experience much more. This has helped many of my relationships. One of the values of contemporary mindfulness practice is its encouragement to share and to listen, to understand that there are diverse views, and that what applies to one often does not apply to others. Contemporary society seems to want quick and simple answers to complex problems, and mindfulness invites a wider and more investigative approach.
I have learnt to honour and respect the various traditions that teach meditation. I do not see meditation and mindfulness as synonymous, and indeed the modern mindfulness field is facing many challenges to its progress. If I am in a yoga class I will do the meditation taught there. If I attend a Buddhist retreat I will do those meditations. If I attended a Christian service I listen carefully to the teachings, the prayers and the hymns. Jon Kabat-Zin talks about the Universal Dharma, which is the core teachings that underpin all contemplative traditions, and if you look carefully at some therapies you see some of the roots of those therapies in long established traditions.
And last, but not least, I will continue to practice meditation. I know my perspective will continue to shift. Hopefully I will be able to look back in another decade with half a lifetime of meditation under my belt. Who knows what my perspective might look like then.