Getting our minds to rest is messy. We just keep practicing what is right and good

My husband and I have had a regular meditation practice for several years. We read a short poem or passage (usually from the excellent book “Poetry of Presence”), and then we sit, as mindfully as possible, for 30 minutes. I sometimes spend a little of that time in prayer, and sometimes do about 10 minutes of attentive yoga poses.

I know that this practice helps me keep my spirit centered, and it encourages me to respond thoughtfully and open-heartedly to the stresses of life, both little and big. Once, I was visiting my sister in Washington and neglected to meditate for three or four days. I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling a little stirred up, almost cranky – we were having a fine visit – until I realized that I wasn’t meditating. So I started doing 20 minutes of silent meditation, and lo and behold, my spirit calmed.

Having said that, I still feel as if I’m not a very good meditator. I just feel, even after all these years of regular meditation, as though my mind often whirs about, remembering, planning, worrying and chattering. I know to return my attention to my breath, or to my awareness of where I am – but still, my “monkey mind” seems to have a life of its own, swinging about from subject to subject, little inclined to settle down.

And so, a little teacher got sent to me recently, in the form of an article in our Unitarian Universalist magazine, UU World. The title made me laugh: “Allowing Meditation To Be Messy.” The authors, Becky Brooks and Erika Hewitt, note that when we are trying to clear our mind and meditate, the mind often seems to want “to get our attention, then lead us around on its leash.”

Imagine my smile to read, “Separating ourselves from the restlessly wandering ‘monkey mind’ isn’t easy – not even for seasoned practitioners.” Oh my gosh, really?!

Brooks and Hewitt go on to say, “Hear us now, fellow monkey minds: the presence (the loud, active presence) of inner voices, noise, and whirl during meditation does not mean you’re doing it ‘wrong.’ It means you’re human. ... What if the power to be found in this ancient practice isn’t in ‘getting it right’ but simply in the act of returning when we stray?”

When I think of it that way, it feels like life. I don’t expect relationships, social justice work, self-insight or projects of any kind to be “right” just because I have been doing them a long time. I know the value of life to be found in the process: putting down one foot at a time, paying attention to companions, ever returning to the presence and guidance of my higher power. I understand that in this old journey we call life, I get better at some things, and I also fall back into old habits or mistakes. Then I take another look, get another realization, make another amend, re-examine my heart and head, and I carry on.

I carry on with practice. As Brooks and Hewitt remind us in their excellent essay, we call meditation a practice for a reason. They say, “The practice isn’t the doing; it’s the return, the reentry.” Another group to which I belong says, “We claim spiritual progress rather than spiritual perfection.” Excellent reminders that my years of experience are part of the holy, human process of living, as well as we can.

Thanks, Becky and Erika. Thanks for helping me not to be discouraged about my resounding lack of perfection. Thank you for bringing me back to the journey, me and my frisky “monkey mind.” Thank you for letting me know, once again, that all I have to do is breathe and return, return, return to what is true and right and good.

This story was originally published November 29, 2019 at 7:20 PM.