Enlightened? No! Buddhist master? No. Buddhist? Working on it. But Buddhist or no, I have been practicing a form of Buddhist meditation, again, for the past month and four days. This is something I’ve been doing (mostly) off and on for the past fifteen years or so. I’m pretty terrible at it. In fact, I composed the gist of this essay while “meditating” this morning.

I’ve got a nice spot in an upstairs room in the house I’m renting in the woods in north Georgia. The room has no door but instead one wall consists of a sliding shoji screen. I have a four by four foot tatami mat in one corner where I can face the screen. I received much playful derision from Jennie Wrisley when I first got the mat four years ago. (Being half-Japanese she found my overly earnest love of traditional Japanese culture to be amusing—and rightfully so.) Now every morning for a mere ten minutes I retreat to my mat and cushion and focus on my breath, counting each one to ten.

Why do I do it? In part to help me practice staying focused on something; in part because I know from past experience that it brings a general sense of calm to life when I’m off the cushion. And a part of me does it out of appreciation and respect for what the Buddha had to say. What follows is my understanding of that.

The point of Buddhism is to alleviate suffering/dissatisfaction, not by changing the state of the things outside of you, but by changing yourself. Suffering results from ignorance of the effects of craving (not simply desire) and attachment. If you want to be free of suffering, then you have to root out and let go of craving/attachment. An important aspect of this is to be present to what is happening now, presently. Why? I believe that part of the reason is that only by being present can you be aware of what you are doing and, more importantly, why you are doing it. When I say something to someone, when I do something, why am I doing it? What is the motivation? Is it motivated by craving/attachment? If so, then suffering is likely to result.

Once the craving/attachment is recognized, you must let go of it. This does not lead to inactivity. Rather it leads to thoughtful actions, ones that are in a sense pure. Such “purity” by no means guarantees that there won’t be bad consequences to your actions. However, it will presumably minimize suffering in the long run. One way it does this is by habituating you to being present, to being aware of your motivations, and to letting go of craving/attachment. All good things by Buddhism’s lights.

Here, then, is why there is genius in meditation. When you sit down to meditate by following your breath, you practice focusing on the present moment. Inevitably, thoughts, feelings, plans, memories, etc., will arise. Before you know it, your mind has been led down a chain of random associations. A pain in your foot reminds you of the time you stubbed your toe as a child, which reminds you of your childhood summers, which reminds you of the times in the neighborhood pool, which reminds you of how hot it is now, which makes you think of the yard work you have to do, which makes you despair just a little, and on and on.

At this point, you should acknowledge your planning, reminiscing, regretting, wishing, wanting, etc., let go of it, and bring your attention back to your breath. Over and over, you follow this pattern: focus, get distracted, acknowledge the distraction, and bring your attention back to your breath and the present moment. After a while your foot falls asleep or your back begins to hurt, or both. What to do? Acknowledge the pain, let go, and bring your attention back to your breath. But you find you really, really want to get up and stop this meditation stuff. What to do? Acknowledge the craving, let go of it, and bring your attention back to your breath.

After a while you can begin to feel like a failure at meditation. You start to get frustrated at how often your mind goes astray from your breath and the present moment. What to do? Notice that the frustration comes from attachment to the idea of being good at meditating. What comes next should now be clear: let go of that attachment and just get back to your breath.

Genius. Every aspect of this simple but oh so hard practice of meditation allows you to practice being present, recognize motives, and let go of craving and attachment. Granted, there is more to meditation than this. For example, it is supposed to help you gain insight into the truth of anatman (no-self), presumably by helping you experience the impermanent nature of the five aggregates. And I’m sure there is still more to it. But even if it only allowed for what I’ve discussed above, it’d still be absolute genius.