Meditation

While jogging at the gym I often times bring my Ipod with me and listen to podcasts. Over the years I have listened to a variety of podcasts ranging in topics from history and science, to talk radio and pop culture. One of my favorite podcasts is of a WNYC radio program called Radio lab. I enjoy the program because it takes fairly complex topics like physics or psychology and attempts to break them down into simple easy to understand terms. Frequently the program will feature interviews from specialists and laymen alike giving the show a kind of “everyman” feel. The other day I was listening to the program titled “Words” in which the show discusses the idea of a world without words. One of the segments featured a neurologist, Jill Bolte Taylor, who suffered a broken blood vessel in her head. The “blood vessel burst inside her left hemisphere, and silenced all the brain chatter in her head. She was left with no language. No memories, just sensory intake.”

As fascinating as her story was, I couldn’t help but compare her experience to descriptions of the meditative state of mind that is often described in the Hindu Vedas and Buddhist texts. “The Sanskrit word véda "knowledge, wisdom" is derived from the root vid- "to know".” They are, at least in my opinion, the record of centuries of reflection by ancient Indian scholars and mystics on the question of the human experience, or, if you will, what is the meaning of life, at least in the way the noted American scholar Joseph Campbell once described it: “People say that what we're all seeking is a meaning for life... I think that what we're seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonances within our own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive.”

Interestingly, in describing her experience, Jill Bolte Taylor suggested that in losing her ability to ascribe language or words to things, she found herself instead experiencing “an all encompassing feeling of joy.“ Words she suggested, kept her at bay from the world, separate and isolated. When she lost her capacity to ascribe words to things she said she felt closer to them, as if she were apart of all things. I have to admit this idea intrigued me. For in meditation the goal is often to silence the inner chatter, to suspend the “self” and to get one to stop differentiating between self and other. In a sense, meditation is about finding that connection that Mrs. Taylor had thrust upon her. When asked, which did she prefer, the world of silent joy, or the world of words, her response was a quiet “I don’t know.”

For me the idea that the chatter in my head could go silent, that I could rid myself of the little voices that crop up and keep an almost constant running monologue of life seems like a gift too good to be true. While my voices can be sweet and sincere, they can also be insecure and mean. I have often struggled to understand the value or importance of meditation, but this show has given me an insight into the idea that in meditation I could somehow separate myself from that thread of jabbering prattle that follows me wherever I go. I mean, I have often thought about meditating, but really I never understood what it was for. I have to admit I had a kind of “what’s in it for me” attitude. Listening to this show I suddenly found myself with a sense of wonder and direction that has opened meditation to the world of possibility.

“It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell.” - Buddha

One of the most common threads in the Vedas is the idea of conquering the "self." You can read yards of pages that seek to describe what this notion of "self" is. There are as many interpretations of the "self" as there are selves making them. However in many of these text to which I refer,the self is the still calm deep that one strives for in meditation. It is the absence of the running monologue, and the opening of the mind to a purely sensory intake of the world of experience. In short, it is the experience described by Mrs. Taylor.

When I was younger I used to think of the "self" as the "soul." But my understanding of what the "soul" is could only be conceived of in esoteric terms. That is, if I had a soul it was somehow something "other" and not really related to anything in this world. I think a big part of my spiritual growth has been to let go of any preconceived idea of "self" or "soul" and rather strive for connection and compassion as a way of experiencing that nature of soul that I could not otherwise imagine. It is a little frightening to think that this notion of "self" is derived from a pure sensory experience of the world. I mean that pretty much puts the esoteric idea of soul out of the picture. No body, no self. No Self, no soul. No soul... what then? Still, part of setting aside my preconceived notions of "self" and "soul" is setting aside the fears and doubts that go along with those old ideas. For now at least I want to try and focus on that feeling of connectedness, without necessarily worrying about what is in it for me.