Meditation Is Swimming
It's not about going inside, it's about going elsewhere.

Among certain circles of mine, it's common to begin a gathering by taking a collective breath, or to offer a brief guided meditation.
This can be a gorgeous moment of presence and recentering – or performative bullshit, depending on the context.
Indeed, the very push towards mindfulness, this idea that meditation is a cure to every modern ill, this thing you should really do – to me feels as cliche as telling a woman to smile, or a man to go to therapy.
I have friends who dropped an emergent meditation practice because it was too boring, too taxing, too reductive, ineffective, or felt simply like too much grind.
To them I say, fuck that –
Meditation is exploration.
I think of it as a means to an end, not an end in itself. A tool, a skill, a practical effect. Like swimming.
So, if you like – come for a swim with me.

If you fall into deep water, swimming can save your life.
And if you love to explore, enjoy the pleasure of it, it can take you to places that are otherwise out of reach.
When I recollect peak moments in my life, so many of them involve water – swimming in Italy in late summer, surrounding by a village perched all up the sides of the hills; diving with turtles; falling in love on the back of a boat; dunking the back of your head into a bath – for someone who is a terrible swimmer, it sits at the core of many happy memories.
Meditation's ability to close out the noise can stop you from drowning, if the lake that you're falling into is your own fears. A slow practice can ease the tapping mind, soothe the crooked heart, give you a steadier perspective.
So yes, meditation can be a tool for safety; an always-ready, free resource for mental and emotional regulation. But as a tool – fuck yes, then we get to the real deal.
Where am I going?
Having spent decades living in my mind, it's electrifying to pinpoint a pinprick in my foot, the specific throw and texture and temperature of a shoulder, a finger.
Honing my technique has given me more mastery of my focus, letting me place my attention deeply within myself, my body, my mind, my emotions. It has helped me find the distinctive resonance of particular hurts, or shame, has let me locate the hidden empathy I have for enemies, allowed me to dive deep within the layers of subconscious to salvage the quiet little unloved parts of myself. I have been able to throw my focus deep, into myself, and cast it wide, throwing attention infinitely across the universe and include myself in everything.
Learn the techniques, and you can realise escapes and presence with all sorts of territory. You can clamber over barriers and slip into hidden spaces within your life. There are all sorts of places you can visit.

Some I travel to nightly. I should say – I'm a fucking beginner, despite all the years. So I started with a few essential techniques: focus, body scan, non-judgmental presence with myself. I dabbled with jhana, to some effect - although I wish to return - and found things really opened up for me as I explored non-dual meditation, eyes-open, walking meditation and vast spacious awareness. This led me to heart-centred meditation that allow for connection across different types of presence.
There are many depths of insight within yourself you can dive into; deep reservoirs of violence and desire. Jung talked about consciousness like an iceberg; most of the mass happens beneath the surface.
Just have a conversation with your other self
A friend was debating some big life changes she was considering; puzzling through the logistical jigsaw of what the next chapter might be.
I wish someone could just
Just have a conversation with your older self.
Calm yourself, breathe deeply, and let your eyes close. Imagine sitting with them, just being present... consider how she looks, how she feels, the sparkle in her eyes, the lines on her face, the way she moves her hair off her cheek, the knowledge worn as lived years you haven't experienced yet, the love she feels for you as the person who got her there – and just ask her. Maybe she has some clues for you.
I sit in a council of myself across different ages: three, 12, 18, 27, early 30s, 50, 75, 120...
I'll ask the child in me how to deal with the child I care for; I ask my older self if I'll still care about this argument in a decade. I get clues from the far future about who I'm becoming, compared to who I long to be; I am forced to look into the eyes of recent selves and accept their embarrassing moments and love them as they are. I'll look at a far-off holographic version of myself, disembodied and ethereal, and loosen my grip on the things I count as my identity.
This process has changed my life.

Shadow creatures
There are dark things within me too; slimy creatures of shame and depravity – I have opened myself to their wisdom, have listened to their pain and wants, have learned to bring them into the light, include and love them.
There are velociraptors of unspeakable viciousness running around in my gut, bound up in all my anger and pain, and I have made a deal with them, that they will never lash out, but will be let loose periodically on those who deserve harsh treatment.
Camera reversal
Deep meditation has helped me find empathy for my enemies. I have heard about how gratitude and metta techniques can be powerful way to shift the viewpoint to 'the other side' and see a dispute from their perspective.
Forgiveness and gratitude, to hope and pray for the good health and safety of those you dislike is a gloriously counter-intuitive hack for happiness.
Because once you have learned to experience this grace, you can connect to the universal within every individual.
Heavenly bodies
And then there are all the experiences beyond the border. We know we are surrounded by invisible worlds; just think about how light works.

In Sufism there is a belief in barzakh, a liminal borderland between the material and imaginal worlds. They say at dawn the line between these is particularly porous, that you can connect with loved ones who've gone, with souls on the other side. Mystics from many traditions speak of far travel through meditation, of communion with those far away, of those no longer alive.
Maybe that's a little too much for a beginner.
But who knows where the water might take you?

If your experiences of meditation have so far been banal, I highly recommend dipping into some non-dual techniques with the lovely Michael Taft – like this one.