by Rolf Sovik
The art of concentration also involves learning how to handle distracting thoughts, images, and emotions that interrupt the focusing process. Generally, when we react to distracting thoughts by giving them attention, we add fuel to their fire. The most common approach to managing them, then, is to remain neutral, and in this way, to allow them to move along. But this requires a degree of self-understanding, practical yogic know-how, and a personal philosophy.
The distractions that intrigue us in meditation are the very desires and questions that otherwise energize our interior life. To manage them, we need to create a stable posture, deepen and relax the flow of breathing, and quietly inspect the dynamics of our thinking. Instead of battling to suppress thoughts, we learn to calm automatic and instinctive reactions to them, and develop discrimination. Productive thoughts are reinforced while unproductive thoughts receive little or no energy. As thoughts come and go, the sense of non-attachment needed to handle them unfolds naturally.
As the centering process deepens, awareness is transformed. We witness the internal stream of thoughts and images as if we have stepped gently away from it. Disentangled from its steady diet of associations and impressions, awareness is pervaded by a quiet sense of being present to itself. This state of mind is referred to as a state of self-remembering or mindfulness (smriti, in Sanskrit).
Mindfulness has been likened to the relaxing experience of sitting near a stream, watching the water flow by. As the water wends along, one point in the stream is replaced by the next without arousing or engaging attention. Similarly, a meditator experiences awareness itself as having stepped away from the automatic stream of mental activity. Observing that stream without intentionally engaging in it, the mind is directed even more deeply toward its focus. In this manner, meditation leads to inner stillness and a quiet, joyful remembrance of awareness resting in its own nature.
Eight Limbs of Yoga
Meditation does not exist in isolation from other yoga practices. Meditation is yoga, and yoga practices of all kinds are the foundation for it. The eight limbs of classical yoga, described by the sage Patanjali some two thousand years ago, illustrate this. They form a system of practice called ashtanga yoga, the eight-limbed yoga, that leads to the experience of fully knowing one’s self. Each limb has a distinct role in the unfolding process, and together they contribute to progressively deeper levels of meditative experience.
The Eight Limbs of Yoga (Ashtanga Yoga)
The first two limbs, the restraints and observances (yamas and niyamas), are collections of attitudes. They include, for example, the broad prescription to refrain from harming one’s self or others and the wise suggestion that contentment is the shortest route to happiness. As essential as the yamas and niyamas are to yoga, many students seem to know little about them. The first step in changing that is to memorize them. There are only ten yamas and niyamas in all, and they can be learned in a short time. Try writing them once each morning. You’ll soon have them memorized.
The yamas and niyamas are not meant to be tyrannical rules that govern yoga students. They are principles that facilitate life.
The next step in exploring them, then, is far more interesting than simply learning their names. It is to uncover the value of each one, so that embracing it is a matter of course rather than reluctant self-effort. Living with the yamas and niyamas reveals their secrets, their contributions to the overall picture of self-development, and the reasons why they are such an integral part of yoga.
the yamas
the niyamas
The next three limbs of ashtanga yoga address the needs of the body, nervous system, and sensory mind. Asana means posture, and it refers both to the postures practiced regularly in yoga classrooms as well as to the seated postures used in meditation. Pranayama practices lead to mastery of the subtle energies that pervade body and mind. They begin with simple exercises to restore natural breathing. Pratyahara exercises play an important role in preparing for meditation. The aim of these practices is to quiet the senses, gradually withdrawing them from their objects so that they, and the mind, can rest.
The final three limbs of Patanjali’s system are all phases in the meditative process itself. In dharana, or concentration, a pure focus is momentarily established, but it is intermittent, like successive drops of water dripping from a faucet. During this phase, the effort to focus is made again . . . and again . . . and again.
In dhyana, meditation proper, the process of focusing is stronger and therefore can be more relaxed. The drops of water are transformed into a continuous stream that flows without pause. In this phase of practice, the object of concentration is sustained effortlessly in the mind.
Samadhi, the last of the eight limbs, is a state of mind unlike any preceding it. It is said that in samadhi the mind is transparently clear. In that state, subject and object are fully integrated and the apparent duality of knower and known disappears. Then, concentration is fully established and the feeling that “I am meditating” is transcended. The profound clarity and innocence of mind necessary to reach this level of practice are not commonly achieved, and samadhi is revered by practitioners at every level.
How to Meditate
The lofty heights of yoga are the fruit of patient practice. But even the beginning stages of meditation are profoundly satisfying. This is particularly true when practice has been well organized. A well-designed approach to meditation makes it easier to quiet the everyday mind and helps us reach the same deep level of meditation day after day. Here is a basic plan of meditation, divided into five stages:one
Establish a steady posture that leads to a feeling of stillness.
two
Develop deep, diaphragmatic breathing.
three
Relax systematically; finish by breathing as if the whole body is breathing.
four
Establish breath awareness in the nostrils.
five
Use a mantra to refine your inner focus.
These steps outline the inner journey, each preparing the way for the next. For example, once physical stillness is achieved, awareness of the mechanics of breathing can be addressed more easily. And after the body and nervous system are relaxed, it is much easier to establish a mental focus on the breath touching inside the nostrils. Each of these stages is the theme of a section found later in this book, but let’s briefly look at them now to supply the overall context for what will follow.
Stillness
Meditation is a process of paying attention, and the essence of meditating is developing one-pointed concentration. Then, freed from the tendency to engage with distractions, the mind becomes profoundly peaceful.
But as you may have discovered, the conditions for attaining one-pointed concentration are elusive. Even when there are few outside interruptions, inner distractions have a way of intruding upon us, which is why the first formal step in the process of meditating is establishing a steady and comfortable meditation posture. This provides the stability and sense of isolation necessary to serve as an inner workplace.
Stillness is the mark of a good meditation posture and is the physical foundation for meditation. As long as the body remains agitated and compelled to move about, the mind will move along with it. To be still, both within and without, you will need to find a comfortable posture for meditation.
Four sitting postures are commonly used. These include two crossed-legged poses, the easy pose (sukhasana) and the auspicious pose (svastikasana); the chair pose (maitryasana); and sitting on a sloped bench. Each of these poses is explored in the following chapter.
It is important to mention one other posture, the reclining or “corpse” pose (shavasana). This pose is an invaluable preparation for meditation and the posture of choice when you are first working on developing diaphragmatic breathing or practicing one of the many relaxation exercises that serve as a preparation for meditation. Shavasana is not a pose used for formal meditation practice, however, because it is likely that in this p
osture you will lose concentration and drift toward sleep.
In order to be completely comfortable in any sitting posture, you will probably need to strengthen your back muscles, improve awareness of your sitting habits during the non-meditating hours of your life (so that you don’t tear down what you are building up), and put in some regular practice sitting for meditation. It will help to do hatha yoga postures that teach you how to use the pelvis, hip joints, and back in a healthy way. Soon, you will be able to maintain your sitting posture with little effort, and it will be comfortable and steady.
Diaphragmatic Breathing
A comfortable sitting posture naturally leads to the second stage of practice—relaxed, diaphragmatic breathing. In ordinary life, few of us give much attention to our breath, and as a result, poor breathing habits disturb both body and mind. Moment to moment, breathing results from the influence of three separate but interwoven forces: metabolic needs that act as the primary influence on breathing; non-voluntary influences on breathing such as emotion, stress, and pain; and voluntary influences on the breath, such as choosing to hold the breath when swimming underwater. In daily life, even when we have some understanding of these mechanisms, the breathing process generally remains outside our awareness.
During meditation, the picture is reversed. A meditator learns to bring breathing to awareness and to observe it. This yields a rich fund of information. The basics of respiratory anatomy are learned in a practical way, and as the movement of respiratory muscles is gradually regulated, breathing becomes both calm and natural. This is such an important aspect of practice that it is often said that without awareness of breathing, there is no yoga.
Systematic Relaxation
The third stage of practice, relaxation, begins with simple methods to relieve fatigue and tension, and to quiet the senses. Stress levels are not always easy to gauge, but they affect us deeply. Muscle tone, organ functioning, emotional sensitivity, and thinking processes are all affected by the stress reaction. When we begin to relax systematically, stress levels are dramatically reversed.
Formal relaxation exercises are usually practiced in reclining postures and are the prelude to seated meditation. They open the door to a new way of knowing one’s self—one that supplies us with the experience of quietly resting within. Relaxation methods vary and may include traveling through the body to relax muscles (systematic relaxation), focusing in various ways on the rhythmic movements of breathing (point-to-point breathing), or moving through the body with a more subtle focus on patterns of energy. Less formal relaxation practices are used in sitting postures to create a sense of inner ease. Whichever method is employed, relaxation calms the mind for the next stage of practice—breath awareness at the nostrils.
Breath Awareness
Every stage in the meditation process involves gathering attention. Before closing the eyes, a meditator prepares his or her seat and goes about the rituals of becoming comfortable. With eyes closed, the focus turns inward and shifts to the stillness of the body. At this point, attention is engaged in the process of slowly withdrawing from normal movements and sensory connections to the outer world. Gradually, as we have seen, the focus is narrowed: attending to the breath, relaxing the nerves, and finally, calming the senses. Once these steps are more or less completed, a distinctive moment in the meditative process is reached. Attention is brought to a much more subtle level of concentration—it rests on the touch of breath flowing inside the nostrils.
Were any of us to attempt to re-invent the techniques of meditation, it would certainly take considerable time to arrive at the idea of focusing on the breath in the nostrils. Normally, we do not pay attention to the breath there unless it is congested or obstructed. But almost universally, the breath at the nostrils has been selected by meditative traditions as the means for dramatically sharpening the focus of the mind. Why?
The answer is that although the object used as a meditative focus could be an external one, such as a candle flame or an inspiring image, it is preferable to choose something that is intrinsic to the meditator. We seek an object that is always available, provides an unbroken, inner stimulus for concentration, and is quieting to the mind and senses. In all these respects, the touch of the breath is ideal. It offers a subtle and delightful sensation that can be brought to attention at any time. It is automatic and flows continuously. And as the mind is focused on the breath, senses other than the sense of touch are withdrawn from their objects, and rest. The pleasing sensation of breathing holds the mind’s attention and gives it a firm, subtle anchor.
Breath awareness at the nostrils connects us to the core energies of the body and mind. Subtle channels of energy that flow along the length of the spine branch forward to end at the base of the nostrils. When attention is brought to them, these streams of energy are naturally integrated—a process called “establishing sushumna,” which creates a deep sense of quietness and joy.
Mantra
Subtle as it is, breath awareness at the nostrils is mildly activating to the sensory mind. This has both advantages and disadvantages. Sensations of breathing are well suited for concentration, but the process is less refined than one based on a purely mental focus. The next stage in meditation, then, is to establish concentration on a thought in the mind.
In everyday life, we experience the mind as a flow of activity. We take in sensations, form visual images, process emotions, think thoughts, recall memories, dream, and even sleep. For the most part, we identify ourselves with the current activity of the mind.
In meditation, we approach things differently. Having calmed the mind, we enter it, not as a functionary busily using it and identified with its work, but as a meditator whose intention is to rest the mind and gradually restore awareness to its true nature. This is accomplished by using a mantra as a focus.
A mantra is a sound given in the yoga tradition to protect, to guide, and to train the mind. When a mantra is recited, it brings its energy to the mind, much like playing a favorite piece of music awakens the sentiment associated with it. A mantra is not an abstract concept like the words love or peace. Nor is it the representation of some other object, like the word apple, which represents a round, juicy fruit. A mantra is an audible form of pure consciousness—a pure note reaching the mind from the silent interior space of consciousness. Through meditation the sound of that note is awakened in the mind, transforming inner life by its presence.
Over time, the sound of the mantra acquires a resonance and familiarity, recurring of its own accord. The effort to maintain it is relaxed, yet the mind continues to be filled with it. The mind then takes on the energy of the mantra, even as it acquires steadiness in concentration.
The selection of a mantra is an important matter. It is best to receive one from a teacher who has been assigned the responsibility of imparting mantras. But there are some mantras that do not require initiation from a teacher and may be used by anyone. The mantra most commonly recited by beginning meditators is soham, a mantra that is divided into two parts in meditation. The sound so is recited with the inhalation, while ham (pronounced “hum”) is recited with the exhalation. (These sounds are not uttered aloud but resonate in the mind.) Soham is said to be the natural sound of breathing and may be translated as “I am That” or “I am who I am.” The energy of this mantra acts as a beacon, leading awareness back to itself.
In yoga, the human spirit is regarded as something other than the flow of thoughts. Awareness, or consciousness, is the pure nature of spirit, while the mind serves as its instrument. When we fail to distinguish between these two, between the mind and consciousness, then we become identified with our thought processes—as if they were us and we were them.
In meditation, the distinction between thoughts and awareness is sharply defined. It is not the mind that supplies us with awareness, nor are the operations of the mind self-aware. The mind is an instrument; awareness is who we are. As the mind rests more and more deeply in its focus, awareness is gradually reve
aled. We come, as the Bhagavad Gita says, “to uplift the self by the Self.”
Simply Meditating
The aim of the following chapters is to explore each of these five basic stages of meditation more deeply. As you continue, I hope you will see something of the richness and variety of the practices associated with each stage. You may gain, as I have, the gratifying sense that meditation is beautifully designed for its spiritual purpose. It encompasses the full range of human experience and can be adapted to fit the needs of every individual.
In the process of expanding your knowledge about meditation, however, it is important not to lose sight of the essential simplicity of practice. Fifteen, twenty . . . perhaps thirty minutes in a day—that is the time allotted for practice. If you enjoy meditating and are motivated, you can practice twice a day. The rhythm of sitting soon will establish its own momentum. Then the exercises contained in virtually every chapter of this book will become experiments that help you refine your meditative skills and anchor your concentration more securely.
In every human endeavor, a balance must be struck between what has been aptly labeled “the words and the music,” the details of practice and the lyrical joy of it. It is never wise to travel too far from simplicity. Thus, although the materials in the following chapters may challenge you by addressing the various stages of meditation in considerable detail, they are not meant to lead you away from the quiet urge that prompts you to meditate in the first place. The joy of meditation lies in responding naturally to its call. When we do, technique finds its place in the experience of being.
