Meditation is rubbish

meditation-6

For years I have been vaguely interested in mindfulness meditation. I remember buying a book on Zen Buddhism 30 years ago in the belief that there might be something to the claim that we moderns live too busily and not enough in the present moment. Since then the whole subject has been at the back of my mind without ever really taking root.

Recently Sam Harris’s interest in the subject reawakened my own and I have read all his columns, listened to all his interviews and read his book on the subject, Waking Up, and I have to say that despite being a huge fan of his I am no more persuaded than I was 30 years ago.

Nurturing a detached attitude to life by sitting in the lotus position for hours on end and emptying your mind strikes me as a peculiar way of spending your time. If you want to be less busy why not just cross some things off your to-do list? Or do a mentally undemanding activity like listening to music.

One of the goals of meditation appears to be to make the meditator less attached to things yet surely it is our attachment to things that makes life worth living. As Paul McCartney sang in Hey Jude,

For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder

To my mind just trying not to be at odds with yourself is a surer way to achieve calm than meditating. This often means accepting yourself as you are with as much good humour as you can muster.

I used to find something distasteful about the idea of liking yourself, as though one might end up annoyingly smug like Russell Brand or Piers Morgan. Even so, I think there is a clear difference between being on good terms with yourself and being an arrogant twit. And if you don’t manage to like yourself you might end up like Isabel Huppert’s vicious, self-hating character in The Piano Teacher.

If I were stranded on a desert island and were able to choose between a construction worker or a meditator as my fellow cast away I would choose the former. A construction worker tests himself against the physical world and is thus more in touch with reality. He is probably made of sterner stuff than someone who can only feel calm when he sits cross-legged on his living room floor, watching his breathing and imagining that he has no self.

Just as an aside, I work at a university that has some trainee Zen Buddhist monks. I have only seen one or two of them on campus but their goofy teeth and flat-footed gait suggested they might not have randomly chosen their ‘profession’. Monks can be as delusional and inept as they like. If they failed to bless a newly-built house properly, who would know? It’s not likely to fall down because it was poorly blessed.

The Buddhist goal of becoming less self-obsessed strikes me as quite a reasonable one until it spills over into the madness of No-Self. Some Buddhists try to convince themselves that the self doesn’t exist. The problem is that attaining this insight is apparently so hard that even experienced meditation teachers spend most of their lives in the ‘selfish’ state familiar to the rest of us. Since this is the case, why doesn’t everyone just look for a more reliable way to lose their self-obsession? Couldn’t they, for example, take more of an interest in other people? At least an interest in something outside yourself reliably helps you diminish your ego, even if you don’t lose it completely. And taking an interest in others is not an all-or-nothing enterprise like the attempt to ‘realise’ that you don’t exist. Becoming less self-absorbed by taking an interest in others can be achieved by degrees.

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