By Andrea Hunsaker
I’m attending class along with sixty other heads and shoulders in my living room with a laptop on my knees. One plus of this pandemic is that from 1,360 miles away, I can attend BYU’s version of the most popular courses in Harvard’s history: Positive Psychology. Or as I like to think of it, The Owner's Manual for Humans. This is scientific, critical, basic survival information about how to live a happy and fulfilling life. I'm convinced that someday it will be taught alongside math and social studies in high school curriculums. Today, Dr. Jared Warren is talking about meditation—a common practice in Eastern traditions, but still a pretty new concept to the Western side of the world. A slide pops up on my screen of this innocent-eyed puppy with a muddied nose and paws pressed up to a glass door. “Learning to meditate is like training a puppy,” Dr. Warren tells us. “Have patience with your mind.”
My eyes drift over to my own dog, Kody, not yet a year old, settled on top of the couch (where he’s not allowed to be). Along with approximately 100% of the rest of the country, we got a puppy this year. I thought our family of 4 kids and 2 bunnies was complete and I was perfectly happy without a dog. But after 2 decades of listening to their pleading, I finally gave in to my children and husband, and we chose a breed that promised to be perfect in every way, and was often trained as a therapy dog. Who couldn’t use a calming, accepting presence in their life?
Well, Kody must have been switched at birth with a badger because our therapy dog needs therapy. The poor thing is anxious. Kody started out in a puppy training class of 8 dogs. He barked so much the first day they gave him a special lavender calming collar. The second class, we were moved to a corner in the back of the room where he could only see a few dogs; still he barked and growled tirelessly at all his new and threatening classmates and their owners. By the third class, a couch was moved in front of us so he couldn’t see anyone at all and an extra trainer had the sole job of throwing bits of cheese from a safe distance to try to keep him quiet so the other frustrated participants could hear the instructions. Now, we don’t know why exactly, but class attendance started dwindling, and by the last two classes Kody and I were the only participants.
So when Dr. Warren connects learning to meditate to puppy training, this is what I think of. It’s the difficult practice of not reacting to the stream of thoughts, feelings, and experiences that constantly compete for our awareness. It is the maturity of sitting, observing, and recognizing that not everything is as threatening as it seems. Like my mind, Kody wanders. He chases cars and skateboarders and small children, trying to rid the earth of the threats of squirrels and blowing leaves. But we gently pull him back on his leash—“It’s okay, you don’t need to chase that, sit, stay, look at me, focus, be calm, you are getting worked up when you don’t have to.” Check out this short video about sitting by the side of the road and watching “cars” (thoughts and feelings) go by without trying to chase after them.
Wandering and getting distracted are natural things minds do to see things as threats. It’s almost like we all have an anxious puppy in our heads. Our primitive fight-or-flight responses kick in before the newer prefrontal cortex has a chance to weigh in. The result is that it takes some time to know how you really want to react. According to your puppy brain? Or according to your values?
And that’s what meditation does for you. It trains your brain to observe without reacting until the puppy has calmed down, everything is processed and you can now act from your values instead of Kody running the show. Imagine what different choices you would make if you were less reactive. Personally, I would eat differently, have better relationships, and generally live from a place of greater ease, to name a few. The Dalai Lama once said, “If every 8 year old in the world is taught meditation, we will eliminate violence from the world within one generation.”
Meditating is simple, but it’s not easy. Luckily, there are lots of resources to help you. The apps Insight Timer and Headspace are great, and you can find mindfulness resources on My Best Self 101’s Mindfulness Module. And you may already be participating in a form of contemplative meditation without realizing it! One poll found that 7 out of 10 Americans pray every day. Prayer can be a sort of meditation because you’re taking the time to slow down and focus your awareness. Personally, I benefit from taking a step beyond a “laundry list of requests” and instead spending time simply being in the presence of the divine, accepting what is, and viewing life from a higher perspective. Mother Teresa was once interviewed by Dan Rather. He asked her, “When you pray, what do you say to God?” She replied, “I don’t say anything. I listen.” So then he asked, “When God speaks to you, then, what does he say?” She told him, “He doesn’t say anything. He listens.” Rather didn’t know what to say to this, so Mother Teresa added, “And if you don’t understand that, I can’t explain it to you.”
I’ll give you an embarrassing glimpse of what goes on in my mind. (John Edmunds says, “Don’t walk a mile in my shoes, that would be boring. Spend 30 seconds in my head, that’ll really freak you out.”) So, I’m standing in line behind a slow patron writing a check at the grocery store. The belt is empty but moving. I wait for a bit behind my cart, and then step in front of it to start loading my groceries at the end of the belt. The cashier is alarmed and asks me to step back and keep 6 feet from the person in front of me. Here my brain goes full puppy; I feel unfairly attacked and I have a fierce urge to jump up on the conveyor belt with the eggs, glide toward him, AND...well, let’s not kid ourselves. I’m more of a flighter than a fighter, so the fantasy stops here since I would probably just get scared when I got too close and run away. But, instead, I’ve been meditating, so I feel my hot anger rise, and watch the thoughts in my head, “What!? I’m not doing anything wrong!” Then watch as the anger turns to shame: “Someone doesn’t approve of me. I’m not good enough.” Here my prefrontal cortex starts catching up: “It’s okay. This isn’t a survival situation. Everyone feels rejected sometimes. You are a conscientious person. It stings, but it’s temporary. He’s just trying to be a good person, too.
I breathe, feel my heartbeat, the heat in my face, feel the waves wash over me, and feel them start to dissipate. This is what it’s like to be human. By the time I’m in front of the cashier, I have distance enough from my own thoughts to notice he is older, tired. I notice he hesitantly greets me, takes a cautious look at my face. Because I’ve been meditating, I’m not shooting laser beams at him from my eyes. He asks about my choice of strawberry lemon ice cream. I sincerely engage in conversation. I don’t bark at him.
Back on my living room couch, Kody has moved to my lap as Dr. Warren lists the research-supported evidence of meditation’s benefits; greater happiness and less anxiety and depression, a stronger immune response, higher intelligence, and improved creativity and cognitive flexibility. In other words, training a mind is worth it. It takes effort. It takes constant correction and patience. And it doesn’t work to get frustrated at yourself. Puppies and minds don’t respond well to negativity. And you can’t stay mad at that face anyway. Kody ate 6 pairs of my flip flops...If anyone else did that, they would definitely not be invited back; but, well, I forgave him because he’s so dang cute and loyal and worth it.
Dogs and minds need training for their own good. All those puppy classes for Kody—they were really a means to save him from himself. Otherwise he would suffer a painful death by...I don't know...trying to jump out of a moving jeep at 40 mph to chase a pedestrian, but being pulled back in in the nick of time. Training is for the dog's well-being. Disciplining some natural tendencies makes a happier dog and happier everyone else around him. So, I would venture to say that those who enjoy meditation the least are those who need it the most. The anxious, busy, impatient mind doesn’t want to stay still, but you can train it to. You are just like an untrained puppy, and that’s okay.
But I won’t tell you that you should meditate. If you’re like me, you might be overloaded with advice about how to live. I’m guessing your list of ‘things I know are good for me that I’m not doing as much as I would like’ is as long as mine. But I’ll plant a seed. And one day, when that puppy in your head has gotten you into enough trouble, you’ll know where to turn. Because when the student is ready, the teacher appears. I’ll just tell you that the effort of training your mind to watch and wait is worth it. Life is better here in the prefrontal cortex. And please, until you do—and I say this with the deepest of respect—try not to eat my flip-flops.