AN
OUTLINE OF TRANSCENDENTAL MEDITATION
These days meditation
has become quite popular. It is
practised daily by thousands of people throughout
But what, then, is meditation?
Is it a religion, a cult, a method of contemplation, a way of life, a
protest against society, or what?
Basically it is none of these things, though it can certainly be turned
into something approximating to any one of them, if you so desire it. The truth is that meditation is simply a way
of enjoying your own company, a means of acquiring a better opinion of
yourself. It need not have anything
whatsoever to do with mystical contact with the Godhead or World Soul or
whatever you would like to equate divinity with, in spite of claims to the
contrary by practising Transcendentalists.
If you wish to associate a pleasant feeling with the Godhead, that is
your affair. But it isn't absolutely
necessary. The essential thing is that
you should eventually come to experience a state of mind which will free you
from the tyranny of petty worries, complaints, miseries, rivalries, etc., if
only from 5-10 minutes a day. After all,
a feeling approximating to bliss is worth acquiring for even that short period
of time. And if you appreciate it enough
to attempt extending it from 10-20 minutes a day, well and good! It won't cost you anything extra.
There are, however, different methods of meditation, some
dependent on breathing routines, others, less physical, which require a greater
degree of willpower in concentrating psychic attention within the head. The method that most appeals to me at present
is the Taoist form of breathing from stomach to crown-centre, for which
the most important requirements are a fairly stable pair of lungs and the
willpower to continue breathing within the confines of a pre-established
routine for at least twenty minutes. You
cannot get high without making some sort of effort, and even good moods have to
be earned one way or another - usually at the price of bad ones! So unless you are prepared to put some
physical effort into your breathing routine and put-up, initially, with a
degree of vertigo partly resulting from this, you won't acquire a particularly
satisfying level of tranquillity.
How, then, does one set about meditating in this manner? Let me explain! To begin with, it helps if you have something
soft to sit on, either a bed or a cushion or a settee. Once you are comfortably seated, you can
cross your legs, put your hands on your kneecaps, or just let them hang loosely
in front of you. But make sure that your
back is straight! A bent back won't
assist your breathing.
After you've done these simple things you are ready to proceed
with the breathing exercises, breathing in-and-out through the nose as,
presumably, you would normally do, but with greater vigour. The object of the initial exercises is to
stoke-up the fire of your metabolism, so to speak, for the more refined
exercises to come. So it is important to
inhale as deeply as possible without, however, doing yourself a serious injury
in the process! The lower stages of this
particular type of meditation are always somewhat mechanical and uninspiring,
but they are well-worth persevering with, if you hope to reap the full benefit
of the higher stages later on.
Thus, aided by the self-imposed deception that your lungs are in
your stomach, you concentrate attention on the stomach as you inhale, so that
it is drawn-in with the breath. When you
exhale, however, you let your concentration flag with the breath, so that the
stomach regains its normal posture. Thus
there is a centripetal/centrifugal alternation between concentration on the
stomach, as required by the inhalation, and the natural dissipation of that
concentration engendered by the exhalation.
This process of steady, full breathing should be continued for at least
five minutes, so it is a good idea to keep your eye on the time while you are
struggling - though hopefully not flagging - with your deep breathing. The temptation to give-up after 3-4 minutes
of this exercise may well present itself.
But if you remember that everything worthwhile has to be earned, one way
or another, then you should find the courage or willpower to proceed to the
next stage of the routine, which will demand a shift of concentration from the
stomach to the lungs.
Since one invariably inhales into the lungs anyway, there is no
need to impose a deception upon oneself here; though one should still alternate
concentration on the lungs, as one inhales, with a dissipation of that
concentration as one exhales, so that the centripetal/centrifugal balance of
forces is maintained. This second stage
of the routine is usually the hardest, because the effort of deep, steady
breathing is combined, to a greater extent than in the previous exercise, with
a feeling of vertigo, which is, of course, engendered by both the effort itself
and the continuous increase of oxygen in the bloodstream resulting from
it. You may feel a bit sick at this
stage, but unless you had eaten a heavy meal just before you began these
exercises - a thing, incidentally, you oughtn't to have done! - you should
survive the feeling on a settled stomach.
After five minutes of this exercise, you move to the third stage
of the routine and focus your attention upon the throat, much as though the
throat was the receptacle into which the oxygen must now pass before you
exhale. Here, too, some vertigo,
tempered by what I like to call psychic flickering, may persist. But take courage! You have come through the hardest stages of
this meditation technique and are already beginning to feel a growing
tranquillity pervade your mind as, with calmer inhalations and exhalations, you
note the five minutes slipping by.
Now when this time has elapsed, it remains for you to shift attention
to the crown of your head, technically termed the crown-centre, and to breathe
up through your nostrils with the impression that the oxygen inhaled is not
entering your lungs but caressing the centre of your brain (which, needless to
say, it most certainly isn't doing!). So
here, too, it is necessary to maintain a deception, as you imagine that cool
streams of air are caressing the centre of your brain as you inhale, and then completely
forget about yourself as you exhale.
This fourth and last breathing exercise will be smoother, easier, more
refreshing than the previous ones, and, as the five minutes quickly pass, the
blissful tranquillity which you have been faithfully anticipating will begin to
flood your mind, making you momentarily conscious, it may be, of a purity of
being not altogether incompatible with the elevated mentality of Nietzsche's
mountain recluse - Zarathustra!
The build-up of oxygen in the blood produced by the breathing
exercises is beginning to fully assert itself, not now in terms of vertigo, but
in a steady stream of blissful coolness and calmness. So all that remains for you to do, once the
final five minutes have been dutifully dispatched, is to experience it where
you sit, without particularly concentrating on any part of your body, and
without consciously interfering with your normal breathing routine. Completely enveloped by the tranquillity
within you, freed from petty thoughts, unannoyed by any neighbour or family
noises which may be penetrating the thin walls of your room, though very alert
to the slightest sound, your soul is detached from the narrow confines of the
ego and becomes both a passive receptacle and an active generator of the purest
feelings.
For 5-10 minutes you sit perfectly still, wallowing in the
purity of your being, experiencing yourself with a sublimated feeling of pride,
a secret exultation that your soul is capable of experiencing such a satisfying
condition, with nothing vulgar to pollute it or pull it from its Zarathustrian
heights. The discomforts of the
breathing exercises are soon forgotten with the consummation they have brought
about - a consummation which, if you bothered to reflect on it, would seem to
be well-worth the previous discomforts!
And so, detached from the usual claims of the ego in the face of
private and public opposition, you experience a form of transcendental
meditation, or meditation enabling you to transcend the narrow confines of the
conscious self. This product of the
twenty minutes breathing routine will normally only last, however, from 5-10
minutes, after which time the mind will return to a less-exultant condition, as
the build-up of oxygen in the blood gradually recedes to a level compatible
with the continuation of normal breathing.
And with the decline in the oxygen content to its normal level, your
meditation officially comes to an end, so you might as well return to your
usual preoccupations, as continue to sit on the bed or settee or whatever with
legs crossed.
Altogether, then, this experience has demanded thirty minutes of
your time: twenty for breathing exercises and ten for transcendental
meditation. However, you may feel thirty
minutes is too long and that the breathing exercises demand too much effort and
are essentially too boring to be worth 5-10 minutes' blissful
tranquillity. If so, then I suggest you
cut the breathing routine to three minutes with each of the four exercises, so
that after a twelve-minute accumulation of oxygen you will experience
tranquillity from 3-6 minutes. But be
warned! These 3-6 minutes won't grant
you such a pleasurable state-of-mind as would have been acquired from a
twenty-minute breathing routine! If you
do not wish to put much effort into the giving, you cannot expect to reap big
dividends from the taking. It's as
simple as that!
I have endeavoured to describe a method of meditation which is
based on a simple but very effective breathing routine derived from the Chinese
Tao te Ching. It can be practised
twice a day, morning and evening, or once a day, preferably in the
evening. It can be practised every day
of the week, or just one or two days a week, depending how you feel about
it. There are some people who practise
it regularly for years on-end, but there is no disgrace in practising it for
merely a few months, if that is all you can manage. You may feel that regular practice of this
meditation technique will simply result in your becoming stuck in another rut,
with one more boring habit as your master.
If so, then continue it only for as long as it means anything to you,
and abandon it as soon as you begin to weary of the stereotypical experience it
seems to evoke. After all, there is a
place for other things in life besides meditation and, although a place for
meditation can easily be found, there is no reason why it should come to
dominate your activities to the exclusion of other agreeable
preoccupations. Naturally, like
virtually any other subject on earth, meditation has its hard-core of fanatical
extremists. But if you are not cut-out
to be such a person yourself, there is little point in trying to follow
suit. Just practise it when and where
you want to experience your soul with a new pride, and it will speak for itself
with all the justification that everything worthwhile invariably has on its
side.
But is meditation of this nature for everyone? Theoretically one could argue that it is for
everyone, insofar as almost everyone has a pair of lungs, a throat, a stable
heart, etc. But, in practice, one is
obliged to admit that only a comparatively small minority of people are really
qualified to indulge in it. To begin
with, one must have the right temperament, the right character, to enable one
to take it seriously in the first place.
It is therefore unlikely that a majority of the working or middle
classes would be qualified to meditate in this manner, especially those who are
always in a rush! And it is unlikely
that people who are too fat, and consequently unable to get themselves into an
upright sitting posture, would be particularly qualified to do so, either. Likewise, one might argue that people with
poor lungs, whether from general ill-health or tobacco addiction, would be
no-less poorly qualified to indulge in the increased flow of oxygen to the
bloodstream, just as the elderly would not be a particularly good proposition
in that respect. Obviously, one cannot
preach a crusade for universal, dynamic meditation among the masses, any more
than one can preach a like-crusade for anything else. And neither can one be surprised by the vast
numbers of people who, not being qualified to meditate in this manner, are
coerced by what little self-respect they still possess into deriding it.
Put frankly, meditation is essentially something which appeals
to that relatively small percentage of the population of any given country who
are always interested in the promulgation of techniques for improving the
quality of life, so that the individual interested in them may adopt as
positive an attitude to life as seems compatible with the formulation of any
genuinely moral or noble orientation.
Meditation, clearly, isn't for those whose egocentric relationship to
the world leads them to instinctively shy away from attitudes or practices which
imply gratitude to life, or a complacency not really commensurate with
rebellious strictures. It depends to
some extent where one lives, whom one's friends are, what one's experiences in
life have been, the condition of one's health, etc., as to whether or not one
will take a positive attitude to meditation.
One can be perfectly justified in deriding it, just as one can be
perfectly justified in praising it.
Those who do not meditate aren't necessarily fools on that account. It is simply not for them, and any attitude
which ignores this is undoubtedly mistaken.
You may, as a devotee of meditation, despise cigarette smokers as much
as you like, but your feelings towards them will not entitle you to consider
them wrong to smoke instead of to meditate.
Superior to many of them you may well be, but their inferiority is
perfectly legitimate, since the foundation, often enough, upon which your own
superiority has been erected. The only
alternative perspective to this is one of presupposing that what is right for
oneself should be right for everyone else as well, irrespective of how sadly
mistaken one could be!
But let us leave these wider philosophical issues and return,
finally, to transcendental meditation, which, so we have argued, is not for
everyone. I intimated earlier that
meditation isn't a religion or, at any rate, need not become one. The fact is that it can be driven in either
an ideological or a religious direction, depending upon the nature of the
people who practise it and their motives for doing so. By itself, meditation doesn't amount to a
religion. But in the hands of
mystically-minded individuals, it can certainly be used as a very important
ingredient in one - as, for example, with a number of modern fringe cults who
practise their own kind of meditation as a means to identification with the
Godhead.
The kind of meditation that I have outlined here does not aspire
to any mystical identification with God conceived, say, in terms of Creator of
the Universe, but is simply an occupation which, carried out in all sincerity,
can provide one with a highly satisfying state-of-mind for 5-10 minutes
whenever one chooses to practise it. You
can call this a process of self-realization if you like, though there is always
an element of doubt, these days, as to exactly what is meant by this
all-too-pervasive expression, and a limit, moreover, as to how far it can be
taken, since, as the eighteenth-century Scottish philosopher John Hume pointed
out, sense impressions do not constitute the self any more than the thoughts
one thinks - full knowledge of the self, as thing-in-itself, ultimately being
beyond one's cognitive grasp. All one
can do, it seems, is to acquire a rough approximation of the self, and in this
respect the Orient has more to teach and better techniques at its disposal for
the acquirement of this elusive self-approximation than both the Occident and
the rest of the world put together!
But internal sense
impressions certainly can be experienced through transcendental meditation, and, as
already intimated, the purity of these sensible impressions is well-worth the
initial struggle to attain them. For in
a world increasingly beset by chaos, noise, anarchy, restlessness, tension,
doubt, etc., meditation can be of considerable value in enabling one to take
temporary refuge from the plethora of diurnal events which constantly bombard
one's sensibilities and threaten to destroy all genuine peace of mind.
Yet the course of action I have described here has very little
to do with the pitiful artaraxia of the ancient Greeks in their Hellenistic
decadence or, alternatively, with its Buddhist equivalent of indifference to
pleasure and pain. It is not a kind of
spiritual suicide carried-on with the sole intent of shutting out the various
contradictory emotional impressions which inevitably befall anyone who goes
about the world in a natural, open, adventurous manner. Certain so-called sages of the East have long
been renowned, it is true, for their imperturbability - an imperturbability,
however, which too often smacks of defeatism in the face of life's manifold
demands on the human spirit and which, in many Westerner's minds, is still
wrongly associated with any form of meditation.
But that is a specifically Buddhist form of meditation which has
very little to do with the thirty minutes combination of breathing routine and
the transcendental tranquillity resulting from it. On the contrary, we are concerned here with a
positive experience, not a defeatist one which smacks of world-weariness. We are concerned here not only in taking a
little refuge from the commonplace demands and experiences of everyday life
but, more importantly, in equipping ourselves with another weapon for dealing
with them. For, in the battle of life,
meditation may not be the most powerful weapon at our disposal, but it is by no
means the least powerful, and many people's lives are richer and saner for a
daily fidelity to thirty minutes spent in the above-mentioned fashion than
would otherwise be the case. It can
help, for one thing, to ease depression, and, as well as providing one with a
temporary sanctuary from noisy neighbours, it can put one in a more positive
frame-of-mind for appreciating the fine arts, especially music - the most
idealistic art-form of them all.
However, like most things, meditation has to be indulged in
moderation, otherwise the advantages to be acquired from it will quickly be
replaced by disadvantages, and one may subsequently find oneself meditating to
the exclusion of talking or reading or walking or any other such important
activities. The rule, as ever, is to
approximate to Aristotle's 'golden mean', which, in popular parlance, means
that 'variety is the spice of life', with no undue emphasis on any one subject
to the total exclusion of everything else.
Easier said than done, of course, but generally followed nonetheless!
