Meditation and Mental Health – Part 1  

a person standing on a beach at sunset.

 

On October 10, 2017—recognized as World Mental Health Day—I presented a talk on meditation and mental health at Innergy Meditation in Miami Beach.  What follows is the first installment in a five-part article series I’ve written to convey the major points of this discussion.

As someone who works with and believes in the power of meditation and mindfulness, I find it heartening to see the world of modern psychology catching up to the ancient wisdom behind these practices. Meditation and mindfulness have clear applicability in the world of psychology and mental health, with abundant support for their effectiveness. My intention behind writing these articles is to offer a compelling testament of these practices that might inspire you to explore how they can strengthen and expand your mental health.

Before I go any further, I want to start by outlining two distinctions. First, when I refer to meditation, I’m referring to the formal practice of sitting in meditation, irrespective of the particular form or tradition being practiced. Whether you’re into sound bowls, mantras, or guided meditations on YouTube, the information in this article applies. My intention is to talk about the functional aspects of meditation practice that support mental health, regardless of how it’s done. Secondly, though meditation is associated with many spiritual and religious traditions, it can be practiced in a secular way. It’s possible, therefore, to gain all the mental health benefits of meditation without having to subscribe to any particular ideology, approach, or tradition.

You’ll also notice that I regularly use the word mindfulness in this discussion. I use it to refer to the fundamental facets of meditation that we carry off the cushion and into the rest of life. To put it even more specifically, I’ll use Dr. Jon Kabat-Zinn’s definition of mindfulness, which is simply a practice of paying attention, on purpose, in the present moment, with a spirit of acceptance and non-judgment.

Both meditation—formal sitting practice—and mindfulness—a walking, moment-to-moment practice of centering our attention in particular ways—have been demonstrated and validated by scientific study to offer a host of mental health benefits. Some of these benefits include decreased anxiety, decreased depression, decreased stress, increased attention and concentration, increased sense of empathy, and improved overall sense of general wellbeing.

To expand on some of the particular benefits of meditation and mindfulness, I’ve decided to examine their impact on five key areas of mental health. Each article in this series will focus on one of these five mental health domains, the first of which is thoughts.

Any conversation about mental health, has to include some reference to thoughts. Of course, we’re thinking beings, so much of our experience occurs in the domain of thought. And while our minds can do many forms of thinking, there are two in particular that matter significantly to our mental health. First, our minds have a remarkable time-traveling capacity. At any given moment, our thoughts can carry us into the past or the future—and, in fact, this happens all the time. While you might appear from the outside to be cooking dinner or brushing your teeth, you’re likely to be time traveling inside your mind, perhaps thinking about how awful your drive home was or how terrifying it will be to grow old. Life is happening in the present moment, right here and now, but you’re time traveling and missing all of it.

Although it can be pretty neat to hop into the time travel machine in our skulls whenever we please, it doesn’t always turn out to be so pleasant. Depression and anxiety are associated with, among other things, recurring thoughts about the past or future. When our minds insist on pulling us out of our experience and into the time travel machine, our mental health can easily be compromised.

In meditation, we practice sitting with the intention to anchor our attention in the present moment. But inevitably, our thoughts carry us into the time travel machine, and we become distracted. What our practice helps us do is notice when we’ve wandered away so we can gently bring ourselves back. This practice of noticing that we’ve drifted and intentionally bringing ourselves back is like doing brain push-ups. It conditions a mental muscle that, if we utilize it in our daily lives, can help us do less time-traveling and more connecting. Because the truth is, the present moment is usually more pleasant and manageable than where our thoughts tend to take us.

Even if your practice supports you in staying present in the here-and-now, there’s another function of your mind for you to contend with: It’s what I call the storytelling mode—the function of your mind that runs an endless stream of commentary about whatever’s happening in each moment of your life. As humans, we’re meaning-making machines; we interpret everything that happens in our lives, telling ourselves a story about it and making it mean something. And while this isn’t an altogether bad thing, if it goes unchecked, it can dampen our sense of wellbeing and threaten our mental health. Let’s say, for example, that I have a conversation with a colleague. What’s actually happening, in concrete terms, is that my colleague and I are exchanging words with one another. No big deal, right? But if my mind is so inclined, I’ll start to tell myself a story about that conversation. I might tell myself things like, “Gosh, I sounded so stupid when I was talking about this morning’s meeting. I always say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Sooner or later, they’re going to realize I’m not cut out for this job. Then they’ll fire me, and nobody else will ever hire me again. I’m going to end up jobless and alone, because everyone will think I’m a failure. I’m going to die homeless on the streets.” This dramatic, self-deprecating spiral of thoughts can run through the mind in mere seconds. It’s the kind of thing our storytelling mode does—take us from a conversation with a colleague to destitution and ruin in no time at all.

Learning to work with the storytelling mode of the mind is essential to our mental health. If we believe all the thoughts that pass through our minds—especially those based on belief systems that frame us as worthless and life as hopeless—our mental health suffers considerably. If, however, we can develop a different sort of relationship with our thoughts, we can allow them to pass through our minds without becoming disturbed, convinced, or consumed by them. We can maintain and improve our mental health by adopting simple practices that shift the way we relate to the stories in our minds.

Through both meditation and mindfulness, we can learn to observe and bear witness to our thoughts, without believing, endorsing, following, or acting upon them. We come to understand, through our own direct experience, that our thoughts are just thoughts. They aren’t truths. They aren’t commands. They don’t define who we are. In other words, we are not our thoughts. At a literal, scientific level, our thoughts are just electrical impulses in our brains that carry data in the form of words. Just because they come up in our experience doesn’t mean we have to pay attention to them. If we can stay present to what’s actually happening around us in the present moment—like the conversation with a colleague I mentioned before—we can maintain our capacity to respond to life directly, instead of through the filter of the (sometimes terrifying) stories our minds weave. We can learn to notice that all of our thoughts do the same, predictable, thing: They enter our minds, and then they leave. If we do nothing about them, they come and go, all on their own. This ability to allow thoughts to pass without attaching to them is one of the most potent outcomes of meditation and mindfulness practice—one that can stand to transform the way we experience our lives.

Since our mental health consists largely of the relationship we have to the thoughts in our minds, utilizing meditation and mindfulness to transform this relationship is a worthwhile pursuit. I invite you to take the information you’ve read here and look for ways to shift the way you relate to and respond to your thoughts, seeing what new possibilities arise. I’ll see you soon with the second installment of the series. Be well until then.

Let It Hurt, Let It Heal

a large wave is breaking in the ocean.

On any given day in the US, nearly 700,000 prescriptions are dispensed for pain medications. If this number seems staggering to you, that’s because it is—especially when you consider that rates of opioid addiction and overdose in this country are at an all-time high. What can start as a pill here or there to manage pain can quickly unravel into a debilitating dependence. We don’t tend to (or want to) think about it this way, but many of the people who die from heroin overdoses started out in a doctor’s office. We’ve got a troubling epidemic on our hands in this country, and for the last several years of my career, I’ve been on its harrowing front lines.

I’ve worked with many people suffering from addiction to opioids and other substances; and while I treat each of my clients according to their unique circumstances, I often find that my conversations with them venture into familiar territory. One of the topics that comes up most often when I speak to these clients is a common one that also comes up when I speak to my other, non-addicted clients. That’s because it’s a topic that relates much more to the human experience in general than to the unique experience of becoming an addict.

The topic I’m referring to is pain. Not just physical pain, of course. I’m talking about the pain of everyday living. From momentary sadness to crippling regret; from a broken heart after a breakup to the devastating loss of a close companion. No matter who you are, no matter how fortunate you’ve been, pain is (or surely will be) part of your reality. And the truth is, your mental health and overall capacity to function in your life depend critically on your ability to effectively manage it. When I see the overwhelming numbers of people losing their lives and their loved ones to addiction every day in this country, I can’t help but think about how different things might be if we could all learn more adaptive ways to manage discomfort and cope with the tough stuff. People are suffering—and far too many of them are doing so in an effort to avoid feeling pain.

Though not everyone turns to substances, we all have ways of seeking to numb ourselves and avoid facing the parts of life that feel uncomfortable and unpleasant. We overeat, oversleep, overwork, or otherwise disconnect from our experience in the moment. And, in some ways, this makes sense. Pain avoidance is woven into the fabric of what makes us human, so it’s only natural that we look for ways to make ourselves feel better whenever pain arises. The problem is, instant gratification and immediate relief are terrible long-term strategies. They serve to lower our tolerance to pain so that we’re less equipped (and more afraid) to manage it the next time it comes up. It’s no wonder our society is more obese, addicted, and depressed than ever before. Our efforts to tune out and feel good in the moment only end up harming us in the long-run.

Life transforms dramatically when we learn to let ourselves feel pain. Trust me; I make a living helping people through this process. Many people spend their lives developing strategies—both consciously and unconsciously—to resist and avoid pain. But this is the worst thing we can do with painful emotions once they’ve arisen. The resistance only serves to strengthen the pain, making it harder for us to move through it. Think about how difficult it is to swim upstream. When you resist the current and try to move in the opposite direction of where it’s flowing, you make the journey to your destination much more difficult. You get stuck. You wear yourself out from the effort. When, however, you move in the direction of the current—going with what’s already flowing—you move much more swiftly. This is the way it works with our emotions, too. Though we’re naturally inclined to resist feeling painful emotions like anger, sadness, regret, or loneliness, we can move through them much more quickly and easily when we allow ourselves to feel them—going with the current, so to speak—than when we resist.

Our society compels us to believe that we should always turn that frown upside-down or find the silver lining on every dark cloud. But the truth is, life is as much about the difficulties as it is about the triumphs—as much about the happy feelings as the painful ones. Pain takes on a whole new meaning when we can learn to greet it and keep it company. Once we learn to let it hurt, we’ve taken the first step to letting it heal.

If something hurts for a while, or you experience difficult emotions every time you think about a particular part of your life, it doesn’t mean something’s wrong. Hurting is part of healing, and sometimes the healing process takes longer than we’d want or expect it to. If you find yourself stuck in this process and unsure how to manage it on your own, know that support is available to you. I sometimes think of myself as a tour guide or compassionate companion along the journey through pain; I’d be honored to keep you company. But whether or not you work with someone through this process or go it alone, trust that your efforts to make contact with your pain will lead you down the path toward healing. And not only will you heal, you’ll also strengthen your ability to face life courageously and open-heartedly, knowing you can handle whatever comes your way.

If we choose to see it this way, being in pain can serve as an opportunity for us to be with ourselves, slowing down and tuning in to our experience so we can move through it as gracefully as possible, learning what’s there for us to learn along the way. I invite you to begin the process of letting your painful emotions come and go; allow yourself to flow through them, supported by the knowledge that they will pass, so long as you let them.

How Doing Nothing Changes Everything

a close up of a bowl of water with a drop of water.

If you met me 10 years ago, you probably would have thought I was pretty scattered. You’d likely have noticed my fiery temper and the hurried, anxious way I’d do things. When spending time with me, you’d quickly pick up on the fact that I was never really present with you but distracted, instead, by my racing thoughts or the items in my mental to-do list. You might have—as many people in my life at that time did—described me as being “all over the place.” You would have seen that I didn’t know what I wanted and had no idea what I was doing with my life. If you were particularly intuitive, you would have recognized that I was lost and disconnected, functioning on autopilot most of the time. You would have known that I felt insecure and unfulfilled, completely uncertain about my future.

When I write about myself 10 years ago, it’s as if I’m writing about a total stranger. I no longer recognize or resemble that disconnected woman with her head in the clouds, rushing through life with no sense of direction. It’s hard to put into words how grateful I am for finding a path to clarity—a path that altered the course of my life completely. And when I think about what it took to get from where I was then to where I am now, I can’t help but smile at the simplicity of it.

What I learned back then that guided my journey from chaos to clarity was the practice of doing nothing. The formal term for this practice is zazen, the sitting meditation practice in Zen Buddhism. Through this practice I learned how to shift from a state of doing to a state of being, stilling my mind and grounding my awareness in the here-and-now. I learned how to extend my practice to all areas of my life by focusing my attention on the present moment and being with my experience as it unfolds. This simple practice of non-doing created a radical shift in my presence and personality. It also inspired me to become a therapist who incorporates Eastern principles and traditions into my work with clients.

As a mindfulness based psychotherapist and coach, I’m committed to supporting my clients in cultivating awareness and getting grounded in the present moment, the only place where life is happening. When my clients begin to adopt simple mindfulness practices into their lives—such as allowing themselves to experience emotion or paying attention to the small changes they’re making—they quickly begin to experience their lives differently. Their relationships with themselves and others begin to transform, and they get inspired to create solutions for the problems that brought them to my office.

I’m regularly stunned by how much becomes possible through the astonishingly simple practice of being still and doing nothing. I’m amazed by how much power there is in a single conscious breath. In my work and my life, I’m committed to exploring the potential of mindful awareness and sharing what I learn with others—including you!

If you’ve ever been disconnected or dissatisfied with your life and unsure what to do about it, this practice is for you. If you’ve ever struggled to concentrate or sit still, this practice is for you. If you’ve ever felt detached from yourself and the people around you, this practice is for you. If you’ve ever thought that life is moving too quickly and you don’t know how to slow it down, this practice is for you. If you’ve ever wanted to explore your potential and the possibilities that exist for your life, this practice is for you.

The most beautiful thing about mindfulness and meditation is that you can practice anytime, anywhere—and now is as good a time to start as any! So before you close this page, give yourself the gift of a mindful moment.

Focus your eyes on a nonmoving object (not on the phone or computer screen) or allow them to gently close. Begin to shift your awareness to your breath. Focus on the sensation of breathing, perhaps finding a spot in your body where you’re most aware of the breath—it might be your nostrils, or your belly, or your chest. Breathe for a couple of moments with your attention fixed in this way. Any time a thought comes in or something around you tries to pull your focus away, gently bring yourself back to your breath. Do this for a few inhales and exhales. Then set an intention to carry this practice with you throughout your day, coming back to it—if only for a few breaths—any time you want to get centered and connected again.

If you’re eager to discover where else this practice can take you, call me for your free 20-minute consultation (305-814-4863), and let’s start exploring what’s possible!

 

Feeding the Gentle Wolf: The Power of Mindfulness Practice

a wolf is standing in the grass looking at the camera.

Much of the content I write about on this blog, and a big part of the work I do in therapy, is grounded in centuries-old Eastern philosophies, particularly from the Zen Buddhist and Taoist traditions. I find that this ancient wisdom has significant relevance to the kinds of things many of us experience in our daily lives. Perhaps the most profoundly impactful of these concepts—and certainly the one I talk about most —is that of mindfulness.

Mindfulness has become a bit of a buzzword in our culture recently. It’s been referenced in numerous publications, incorporated in countless studies, and suggested as an intervention for a great number of modern-day challenges. So what is this extraordinary concept all about?

Well, to tell you the truth, it’s really quite simple. Mindfulness is essentially the practice of paying attention, on purpose, in the present moment. It involves observing our experience as it’s happening and responding to it with a spirit of acceptance and non-judgment.

When we live mindfully, we attend to our experience in the here-and-now, taking stock of whatever is happening around us and inside of us. This enables us to stay grounded in the present moment and appreciate our thoughts, sensations, emotions, and surroundings.

The practice of mindfulness is essentially a practice of bringing your mind to meet your body in real time. If you stop to think about it, you’re able to perform most of your daily activities without dedicating 100% of your attention to them. Your body completes the tasks without your mind needing to be fully present. Take washing your hands, for example. While your body goes through the motions, your mind is free to wander—and wander it likely does. The practice of mindfully washing your hands considerably transforms the activity, as it involves bringing your full awareness to the experience. It means feeling the contours of the faucet against your hand as you turn it on, sensing the temperature of the water as it rushes over your skin, seeing your hands move through space to reach for the soap and sponge, smelling the soap as it slips over and between your hands, watching the bubbles encase your hands and then be washed away by the stream of water that you can hear gushing out of the faucet. It’s quite a departure from the typical hand-washing experience, which basically involves going through the motions while mentally time traveling to the past (“I really didn’t like the tone he took with me in that email”) or the future (“What was that item I said I needed to get at the store later?”).

In reality, unless we’re acting mindfully, we’re not really acting at all. To act requires consciousness and intention; so when we go through our daily activities on autopilot, we end up having a passive experience of our lives. It’s no wonder we so often experience boredom, frustration, dissatisfaction, and agitation without knowing why. When we think and emote mindfully, we tune in to our internal experience, getting curious about our thoughts and learning from our feelings. We practice responding to our internal and external experiences rather than impulsively reacting to them. Approached mindfully, a rush of anger is not a command to act aggressively but an invitation to turn inward and find out what caused it to arise. A troubling thought is no longer an introduction to suffering but an opportunity to witness the natural tendency for thoughts to come and go.

When we are mindful, we give ourselves permission to gently stay with our present-moment experience rather than resist it or try to turn it into something more pleasant. We surf the wave of our emotions, trusting ourselves to respond to them thoughtfully, calmly, and responsibly. When the wave breaks, we enjoy, with appreciation, the experience of having ridden it, and we wait patiently to see what the ocean presents to us next.

I’ll be offering much more food for thought on the concept and practice of mindfulness through this blog. In the meantime, I invite you to watch the delightful (and short) videos below on the power of mindfulness and its potential to transform our experience of life.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6T02g5hnT4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzKryaN44ss