Jeremy Mohler

Writer and meditation teacher

We all think “too much.” Don’t let that stop you from trying meditation.

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The most common thing I hear from people who are hesitant about trying meditation is, “But I think too much.”

What I usually say back is, “We all do.”

We all think too much. Wandering thoughts are estimated to occupy 30 to 50 percent of our waking hours. And we all think we think too much.

Every time I notice my mind wandering from the present moment during meditation, I think something like: Why can’t I stay focused? I should be more mindful. Maybe I should start meditating two times a day.

I’ve been meditating every day for years and I still criticize myself for not being a good meditator. Every time.

It’s only when I notice the self-criticism as yet another distraction that I’m able to let go of the thoughts and bring my attention back to my breath or hands or the sound of the heat vent.

Eventually, the self-critical thoughts—the shoulds and shouldn’ts—seem less convincing and even a little boring. They’re as ordinary as an itch on my wrist or the sound of a truck passing outside.

As I settle into an accepting state of mind, I’m less whipped around by thoughts, emotions, and bodily sensations. It feels like I’m resting at the center of my experience, witnessing the entirety of the present moment.

My mind still wanders, but I’m less inclined to add the self-criticism on top. Instead, I smile inside. There it goes again. Isn’t it so cute? Come back over this way, mind, towards paying attention to the sensations of the air entering and leaving my nose.

Think of your mind as a puppy. If you’ve ever had a puppy, you know that yelling and yanking its leash doesn’t work. Getting it to come requires a gentle touch and lots of treats.

Learning how to recognize and let go of self-critical thoughts has been the most transformative aspect of my meditation practice. Being gentle with myself has helped me kick a nasty caffeine habit, get closer with family members, and so much more.

When we’re not resisting our experience, we can access the feelings of peace and contentment that are always available no matter how scattered our mind is. We’re more prone to responding to what’s required in the moment rather than reacting out of habit. We’re more aware of our choices, the inner freedom that no circumstances can ever take away from us.

We all think too much, and we all think we think too much. Don’t let that stop you from trying meditation or meditating more often. In fact, embrace it.

Free ebook on mindfulness meditation

My ebook, How to Get Out of Your Head, will help you start or stick with a regular meditation practice. Get it for free here.

Listen to my podcast Meditation for the 99%

On Meditation for the 99%, I take meditation out of faraway monasteries, expensive retreat centers, and Corporate America, and bring it to work, relationships, and, especially, politics. Listen everywhere podcasts are available.

Self-compassion isn’t wimpy. It’s the hardest and most beneficial thing you‘ll ever do.

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I can’t remember a more contradictory time in my life. I’ve never felt so lonely. For the past month, I’ve been living alone on my family’s farm in rural Southern Maryland. It’s been part “Walden,” part “Joe Dirt,” part “The Blair Witch Project.” Days go by without seeing another human.

But I’ve also never felt so fearless. Unlike when I’ve traveled solo or had nothing to do on a Friday night—which is when I want company the most —the fact that I’m lonely hasn’t bothered me.

What I’ve been practicing is sometimes called the “two wings” of mindfulness: awareness and compassion. Just as a bird needs both wings to fly, we must see reality as it is and hold our reaction to it with compassion.

The first wing, awareness, is hard to achieve but easy to understand. It’s what most people think mindfulness is, the moment to moment focus that comes from meditation practice. It’s seeing clearly and feeling fully the flow of body sensations, thoughts, emotions, and sounds happening right here, right now.

Compassion, though, is hard to explain and even more difficult to put into practice. It’s allowing whatever is happening in our experience. It’s accepting rather than critiquing our gut reactions.

Our default way of thinking is the opposite. We ignore our feelings by drowning them out with distractions, like Facebook and alcohol. We critique ourselves for how we feel—I shouldn’t feel lonely. I’m weak.

Meanwhile, we forget our inner freedom, what existentialist psychologist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl described as our ability to choose our attitude in any given set of circumstances. We’re on autopilot, whipped around by our thoughts and emotions.

Compassion sounds like rolling over and letting the world step all over you, but it’s not. We can speak up, name our wants and needs, and set boundaries with other people while still knowing that everything is ultimately out of our control. Everything except how we relate to our experience.

The spiritual teacher David Deida tells a story about a teacher of his feeling jealous at a party. Deida sees the teacher’s wife across the room enjoying a conversation with an attractive man and asks his teacher, “Aren’t you jealous?”

“Yes, but the fact that I’m jealous isn’t bothering me,” his teacher responds.

In other words, the teacher was aware of how he was relating to his jealousy. Instead of making it a problem, he was allowing it to just be. He could decide to intervene or discuss the situation with his wife after the party. Or he could decide not to. Either way, his decision wouldn’t be distorted by his self-criticism. If he did choose to speak with her, he could speak honestly and without shame.

So, how do we cultivate compassion? We have to find a tactic that works for us and practice it until we become skillful.

Compassion isn’t some flowery or wimpy positive thinking exercise. Like awareness, it’s a muscle that must be strengthened through action.

I’ve heard of different tactics over the years. There’s finding a phrase that feels soothing when silently whispering it to yourself. Something like, I’m enough or I’m loved. There’s placing your hand on your chest or shoulder to calm your body down.

I like to imagine younger version of myself feeling an overwhelming emotion. I imagine my current self comforting that younger version, just being with him as he feels all the feelings.

The other night I was feeling lonely and imagined myself at five years old sitting beside me on the couch. Just this acceptance of my loneliness and being with it rather than trying to hide from it or change it made me feel less alone.

I didn’t care that I hadn’t seen anyone that day or that I didn’t have plans for the weekend. I heard the wind in the leaves outside the window and smelled the rice I had cooking on the stove. I felt fully alive, at ease, and the opposite of alone, i.e., connected.

If you meditate or practice mindfulness, you’re only halfway to the inner freedom you’re capable of. Search for a compassion practice until you find one that works for you. Try RAIN, Tibetan tonglen, and lovingkindness. Find a therapist who uses reparenting or Internal Family Systems (IFS).

As meditation teacher and therapist Tara Brach writes, “Both wings together help us remain in the experience of the moment, just as it is. When we do this, something begins to happen—we feel freer, options open before us, we see with more clarity how we want to proceed.”

Free ebook on mindfulness meditation

My ebook, How to Get Out of Your Head, will help you start or stick with a regular meditation practice. Get it for free here.

Listen to my podcast Meditation for the 99%

On Meditation for the 99%, I take meditation out of faraway monasteries, expensive retreat centers, and Corporate America, and bring it to work, relationships, and, especially, politics. Listen everywhere podcasts are available.

New Year’s resolutions. War with Iran. The rent just went up. Focus on your breath.

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I got a massage the other day and was reminded of the first thing you learn in Mindfulness 101: if you’re feeling lost, find your breath.

I’m not a person who gets massages. I’ve always thought they’re for rich people who have the time and money to pay someone to touch them.

But just before New Year’s I fell down my rain-soaked back porch stairs. My glutes (read: ass) seized up. My lower back developed a bruise that looked like the sky in Van Gogh’s “The Starry Night.” It was time to pay for professional help.

The massage therapist noticed that I held my breath when she gently pushed into the bruise.

“Focus on your breath,” she said. “Breathe through the pain.”

Oh yeah, I thought, I can do this. I do it all the time during meditation.

How’d I forget? Well, it’s easy to when we’re not practicing, when we’re at work, with family—in everyday life. My mind wanders when my mom calls, my boss emails, someone cuts in line at the grocery store, and, apparently, when I get a massage.

This time of year is especially mindless and forward thinking. New Year’s resolutions. Diets, workouts, goals. Trump is trying to start a war. Australia is on fire. Murder rates are climbing. If you feel scattered and overwhelmed, you’re not alone.

Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Buddhist monk, writes that “breathing is a stable solid ground that is always there for us to take refuge in. Whenever we are carried away by regret about something that has happened or swept away in our fears or anxiety [about] the future, we can return to our breathing and re-establish ourselves in the present moment.”

That’s mindfulness meditation in a nutshell. Notice when your mind has been carried away. Let go of the thoughts. Come back to the air entering your nostrils or your lungs expanding. Over and over again.

As my new massage therapist says, breathe through the pain. Focus on the next breath. And the next breath. And the next breath.

“We don’t need to control the breath in any way,” Thich Nhat Hanh writes. “We simply encounter it, just as it is. It may be long or short, deep or shallow. With the gentle energy of mindfulness it will naturally become slower and deeper.”

If focusing on the breath doesn’t feel comfortable, put your attention on one part of your body. Feel your hands, feet, or legs. Relax and feel the sensations.

No matter what’s happening right now, your breath and body are bread crumbs back to the peace and freedom of the present moment.

Free ebook on mindfulness meditation

My ebook, How to Get Out of Your Head, will help you start or stick with a regular meditation practice. Get it for free here.

Listen to my podcast Meditation for the 99%

On Meditation for the 99%, I take meditation out of faraway monasteries, expensive retreat centers, and Corporate America, and bring it to work, relationships, and, especially, politics. Listen everywhere podcasts are available.

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