Meditation

Four Types of Thoughts

Meditation involves focusing the attention – usually attending to the breath.  Why do people meditate?  A major purpose of meditation is metascriptive: it aims to reduce habitual identification with “scripted self-thoughts.”  Scripted self-thought means thinking in words about the self.  Let’s break that down by examining things that are and aren’t scripted thoughts, and things that are and aren’t self-thoughts.

Scripted self-thoughts: These are word-thoughts about the self.  For example, “I’m bad at tennis” or “I’m going to wake up early tomorrow.”  I will assume that word-thoughts about other people are close enough to us to trigger self thoughts.  That is, if we think “my friend is playing tennis” it might trigger us to think, implicitly, “I’m bad at tennis.”  In effect, other people remind us of ourselves and trigger thoughts about ourselves.  Watching people play tennis on television could have the same effect.  So in a sense, scripted people-thoughts are scripted self-thoughts.  Even thinking about mundane objects could remind us of people and self.  For example, if we go for a walk and see a car, we could compare it with our car, or we could think about how we need to clean our car.  This means that perhaps the great majority of our thoughts are potentially scripted self-thoughts, at least in an implicit sense.

Scripted non-self-thoughts: These are word-thoughts that are not about the self – and in fact are not about people at all..  This is really the same kind of thing as the car example above; it’s just a topic that we happen not to associate with our ego.  In other words, for someone whose ego is not caught up in their car, cars can be scripted non-self-thoughts.  I suspect that my child-self didn’t care about being good or bad at math, but just loved math.  (That’s why I became good at it.)  But over time, as adults told me that I was good at math, I came to identify as a person who was good at math.  I took a very difficult math course in college that I was very proud of – and I wonder if that’s why I didn’t become a math major; it may have sucked some of the fun out of math to think in terms of being good or bad at it.  If math was about accomplishment and not about joy, then my accomplishment seemed to have peaked with taking that class.
Scripted non-self-thoughts could also involve thoughts about animals, such as pets.  We may be less likely to identify pets as mere extensions of ourselves, since they are creatures that have an independent existence from us – yet they are not people.  Unless we enter our cat into some sort of competition, our cat is not a reflection of our ego.  Perhaps this is one reason pets are good for one’s mental health.

Unscripted self-thoughts: These are thoughts about the self that don’t take the form of words.  For example, perceptions of the breath (the sensation of the breath in the nostrils, or the chest or abdomen rising and falling) or perceptions of the body.  Unscripted self-thoughts are commonly associated with meditation.  Breath meditation is important, but there is also walking meditation, where one attends to the sensations of the feet as one walks.

Unscripted non-self-thoughts: These thoughts are also perceptions, but they’re perceptions of things that are separate from our body.  In kasina meditation, we would meditate on a disk.  Candle meditations are also possible.  We could meditate on a mantra, which is often a meaningless word.  Experiences of nature, music, or abstract art could also fit this category – this might be one reason why these experiences are valued by many people.  They are a way to escape the self.

Meditation, then, primarily focuses on the last two items (unscripted thoughts), but there is something to be said for the second one (scripted non-self thoughts).  Pets have a meditative quality to them, but they aren’t meditation properly speaking.

Stage 1: Letting go of thoughts

At first the advantage of meditation comes from being able to let go of thoughts as we move from scripted self-thoughts toward unscripted thoughts.  Meditation of this kind is metascripted in the sense of releasing scripts.

As we perform this action again and again during meditation practice, we learn to release thoughts that we don’t want to have – including anxiety, depressive, or ruminative self-thoughts.  These thoughts are associated with the Default Mode Network – a network of brain regions associated with scripted self-thoughts, including evaluative thoughts (“I am good / I am bad.”)  Meditation practice can quiet the Default Mode Network and change its relationship with other parts of their brain.

As an example, when surfing to a website that made me anxious, I noticed “this website is making me anxious” and closed it.  That’s an example of letting go – noticing the feeling of anxiety rather than getting sucked into it.

It’s important not to view “letting go” as an action of the will that we must take.  It’s something that happens of its own accord, after practice.  In the same way, when learning to ride a bicycle, we don’t consciously analyze and “will” all of our foot motions after we become skilled at riding.  We just do it.  And as we’re learning, we don’t manage to “will” ourselves to become adept bicycle riders from the start.  Riding always requires a tiny amount of will and a large amount of habit, and it’s the same with meditation.

Stage 2: Awareness of mind and “ink mode”

Eventually, meditation claims to cultivate awareness of the mind.  I am not sure I have ever had this awareness during meditation.  However, I’ve thought about awareness of the mind a great deal in other contexts, and I will proceed by analogy with my other experiences, attempting to relate my experience with what I’ve read about meditation.  Perhaps as I get better at meditation, I will rewrite this section.

What does “awareness of mind” mean?  Is the mind my “self”?  Is it a “script”?  That depends on what we mean by “mind.”

Let’s consider an analogy where I am like a book.  Reading a book offers two ways of seeing:

Story mode.  This is the most common way of approaching a book.  In this mode, we are absorbed in the characters, emotions, and plot.  If we are reading about Hamlet, we imagine, in a sense, that we are right there in Denmark with Hamlet.  We may even feel what Hamlet feels.  When Hamlet dies, we may feel terrible, almost as if we are Hamlet, or as if Hamlet were a friend of ours.  It is often the intent of the author that we get caught up in the story, identify with the characters, and feel what they feel.

However, at times the author wants us to realize that the story is just a story.  In Hamlet, the play within the play reminds us of this.  There are theatrical productions in which a character breaks the fourth wall, speaking directly to the audience, or where a character changes costumes and roles in full view of the audience.  As we start to become more aware of the book as a book or the play as a play, we are moving toward ink mode.

Ink mode.  In ink mode, we notice the raw material: in a book, this is the letters, their shapes, and the ink that the letters are made of.  When we’re in ink mode, the word “I” does not mean anything; it is just a straight, vertical line made of ink on the page.
We might also include, here, looking at some linguistic aspects of the words – their grammar and syntax.  What’s important is that we are looking at the signifiers (the words) rather than the signified (what the word means – its definition.)  Sometimes, postmodern philosophers say that there is only a signifier, and that the signified (its meaning) is lost in a bottomless network of definitions.  Thus, the word “story” has a definition that’s composed of words; but those words also have definitions – ad infinitum.  If you keep looking up the definitions of the definitions in the dictionary, it will never end.  When we look at language this way, we are in “ink mode” – the only “real” thing is the word itself, not the character it represents.  There are many ways to be in ink mode – looking at the ink and its chemical composition, the letters and their shapes, or the grammar and syntax of the word.

In a play, ink mode means looking at the costumes as costumes and the actors as actors.  We might also notice the real-life identity of the actor.  (“That actor played so-and-so in another play.”)

It seems to me that reading a book is somewhat closer to ink mode than watching a movie.  That’s because the movie simulates a real-life experience more exactly, while with a book, we’re more aware that we’re just processing text on a page.  Then again, many people may feel the opposite: that they are drawn into books and feel they are right there with the characters.

Stage two meditation is like shifting from story mode to ink mode.  Most of the time, we live in the story (“I want this, I fear that”).  These are scripted self-thoughts. Stage two meditation helps us notice the “ink,” which represents the building blocks of experience – the components that make up our self-scripts.  The building blocks are “phenomena” or thoughts, feelings, and sensations.  From a story mode perspective, our anxiety about failing an exam is the future event of failing the exam.  But from an ink mode perspective, it is the thought of failing the exam, the tension in our muscles, etc.  As we watch the phenomena come and go, we can enter ink mode and realize that the scripts we tell ourselves aren’t real.  We realize that these stories are transient events that are made of smaller building blocks (words, emotions, muscle tensions). Therefore, we enter a metascripted mode of being – a mode in which we are interpreting our self-scripts rather than living them as if they are real.

This is like the difference between someone who takes a television ad at face value vs. someone who says “this is an ad; it’s not real.”

As a “stage one“ beginner in meditation, we practice by noticing when we enter story mode (self-script) and then we come back to the breath.  However, we do not necessarily observe the thoughts themselves in this stage; we are simply learning to disengage from them.  We do not specifically practice ink mode.
Ink mode is fully cultivated with stage two, in advanced meditative practice such as Vipassana, where we intentionally examine our thoughts, feelings, and sensations – watching them arise and dissipate.  This requires a significant amount of practice with attention, so that we can attend to our thoughts, which are ordinarily difficult to attend to.  That’s why this is a more advanced practice.
“Self” vs. “self”

Let’s draw the analogy between the self and the book.

When I write the word “self,” with a lowercase “s,” it represents the self in my mind’s script.  So if I imagine myself going grocery shopping, then the “self” is the self doing the shopping.  In the context of a book, this corresponds to a character in a story.

When we are “aware of the mind,” the “mind” is the “phenomena” I experience: thoughts, emotions, and sensations.  In the book analogy, this is the ink on the page.  In Vipassana meditation, we notice our phenomena as discrete particles of experience that come and go; a thought arises, then it departs.  This means noticing the ink.

The word “Self,” with an uppercase “S,” represents the Self that is aware of the phenomena.  It is the Self that is aware of my self-script about going grocery shopping.  I might imagine the Self to be made of muscle, blood, bones, and brain which contain the phenomena and the self.  In the book analogy, this relates to the book itself.  The ink and story are both contained within the book.

The self is just a character in a script; the Self is the person telling that story, and is capable of reinterpreting it.

The Trickiness of Self

There is a problem: the moment we talk about the Self, it becomes another “self”-character in the script.  The Self we imagine is not the real Self, but is a character in our mind – it is made up of phenomena.  For example, if we imagine the Self as being our body, then the body we’re imagining is not the real body; it is an imaginary body – a character.  The Buddhist response to Descartes’ “I think therefore I am” is that both I’s in this statement are just thoughts among other thoughts.

This raises a question: Is there a real Self at all, or only layers of selves in scripts about selves?  Buddhist traditions often explore this puzzle deeply.  The idea that we do not have any Self is called “anatta” or no-self.

If we get lost in the story or script, we fully identify with the self-character.  Seeing the ink, we gain some distance from the character “me.”  In other words, we can distinguish between “me” and “Me.”  This distancing is what I have called dereification or decentering.  This can lead to reduced rumination or thought-loops, which in turn can reduce anxiety or depression.

We’ve considered a few advantages of meditation, all of which relate to the metascripted level: letting go of thoughts, dereification, and “ink mode.”  Next, I will address some more potential advantages, such as increased compassion, interoception, and emotional regulation.

Compassion

Many people associate mindfulness with compassion.  I don’t believe it’s possible to change one’s personality or values using meditation unless you explicitly contemplate the desired values.  That is, I don’t think that someone who merely attends to the breath will become more compassionate – even if they attain great skill at attending to the breath.

However, there are ways in which meditation supports compassion.  One is that in releasing scripted self-thoughts, it lets go of thoughts of “me” and “mine” that may interfere with developing compassion.  That is, if every time we see a car, we think of how that car is superior or inferior to our car, it may interfere with being compassionate toward our friend when we think about their car.

That said, I don’t think that meditation is like a pill that you can take to become more compassionate.  Even if we aren’t attached to thoughts of our friend’s car being superior, it doesn’t mean that we will seek to help our friend.  Compassion is a complex skill: we also have to know what others want and need – or at least we have to know how to ask them what they want and need.

Interoception

Another benefit of meditation is enhanced interoception, or heightened body awareness.  One reason meditation helps with stress is that it may train people to feel their body and catch the early stirrings of an emotion or the subtle signs of tension, so that they can respond appropriately.  The previously mentioned Self-Therapy Exercise has this function as well.

Meditators may have a more nuanced awareness of body sensations, as if in ink mode: they may be able to break a pain sensation into tingling, heat, pressure, and so on, rather than a monolithic “pain” feeling.  This could reduce suffering even if it does not reduce the pain itself.  Suffering, in Buddhist theory, is the mental stress that we put on top of pain or other difficult experiences.

Several meditation exercises are helpful for body awareness.

Body scan meditation involves moving your attention to different regions of your body.

Yoga is a kind of mindful movement that can develop an awareness of your body as you move, including how breathing changes with movement or how your emotional state changes your posture.

Breath awareness counts too, because your breath is a function of your body.

Emotional Regulation

Mindfulness helps with emotional regulation because:

It develops attentional control, which allows us to navigate away from ruminations.

It allows us to view thoughts and situations from a different, often more accepting perspective.

It helps us learn that thoughts and feelings are transient or impermanent.  If we stay with a thought or feeling, it will diminish naturally, reducing fear of negative emotions.

Studies using brain imaging have found that mindfulness training leads to decreased amygdala reactivity to emotional stimuli.  Meditators may feel that although they still have anxiety, the anxiety doesn’t “take over” as much.

Emotional regulation is linked with self-compassion: when we have a difficult emotion, it’s important to accept the emotion and to feel compassion for ourselves.  The Self-Therapy Exercise is also about observing emotions, especially in moments when emotions are difficult.

How to motivate yourself to meditate

According to the book The Mind Illuminated, the first and hardest step in improving at meditation is establishing a regular practice.  Buddhist monks live in communities where they keep each other accountable to practice at certain times, but lay practitioners don’t have that advantage.

In this essay, I’ll focus on this step, the motivation step.  You can find any book you like to discuss the technique of meditation – that is beyond the scope of the current essay. These motivations might apply to many of the exercises in this book.

Clarify Your Motivation

Remind yourself of your motivation to meditate frequently, including at the beginning of the session as well as throughout your week.  What benefits or values inspire you to practice?  Some examples include:

Descripting. You may want to let go of scripted self-thoughts so as to respond more naturally and contingently to the world around you.

Personal growth.  You might want to become more compassionate, patient, or self-aware.  These goals are more likely to be met if you revisit them often, enact them, and read about them.  That is, becoming compassionate likely requires thinking about and practicing compassion as well as meditating.

Stress relief and mental health.  Meditation can help you to decenter or distance yourself from your self-thoughts, reducing anxiety and depression.

Attention.  Meditation can improve your attention.

Spiritual goals.  Some people may have a long-term goal of achieving awakening or enlightenment.  I think the Buddhist perspective on this is healthy: we may achieve awakening in a later life, not necessarily this one.  To demand that we must achieve awakening in this life puts a lot of pressure on ourselves.  I’ve noticed that Western authors, including the author of The Mind Illuminated, can sound a bit more intense about the importance of immediate achievement – perhaps because they don’t have the same spiritual beliefs.  That can be a strength, creating great enthusiasm – but it’s also a limitation.

Body awareness or interoception.  Meditation can help us to become more aware of our body.

Be Aware of Scripts

Here’s a paradox: you might want to meditate in order to let go of scripts; but you might have scripts that make it difficult to meditate. Some examples might include:

  • Meditation will make me boring – doing the same thing every day.
  • I’m not good at meditation, because I don’t experience anything special when I meditate.
  • I’m not good at meditation, because my self-scripts are so strong that I’ll never be able to get rid of them.

You’ll need to address these scripts by some means other than meditation, of course. One option is to journal them. Write about these scripts and then (gently, being kind to yourself) try to find discrepant evidence. Will five minutes a day of meditation make you boring? Do you have to feel “good at” meditation in order for it to work? Have you ever managed to let go of a self-script?

Set Realistic Goals for Each Session

Time goals.  The most basic goal is simply to sit and meditate for a set amount of time.  Choose a duration that works for you – it could be five minutes to start.  The primary goal is to stay for those minutes without quitting.

Patience.  You can try to be patient with yourself when your mind drifts, or to practice self-compassion when you get distracted.

Exploration.  To keep the mind entertained, you can choose an experience to explore in detail.  For example, you could try to notice as many distinct sensations as possible in one breath, or observe different stages of the breath.  Mental noting (in, out) can be helpful as well.  You could also count how many breaths you can stay focused on before the mind wanders.  This should be done in a nonjudgmental way – the wandering of the mind is inevitable and is not a problem.

Goals should be realistic: if your mind wanders frequently (as is likely the case) then don’t say that your mind will never wander in this session.  Preventing your mind from wandering is not a matter of exerting willpower – it is only a matter of long-term practice.  You are essentially “nudging” your mind toward less wandering rather than “pushing” or “forcing” it.

Schedule Your Meditation and Create a Routine

Set a consistent time.  You want to build a habit loop, where a regular time (cue) triggers the routine (meditation) which eventually gives you a reward (calm, clarity).

Designate a space.  Choose a dedicated spot for meditation.  This can reduce distractions and mental resistance, helping to build a habit.

Habit stacking: attach your meditation session to something you already do every day.  For instance, “I will meditate immediately after having a coffee in the morning.”

Record the fact that you’ve meditated.  Schedule “meditation” in your calendar, then tick off a checkbox when you meditate or put a sticker on a chart.  You can track streaks if you want, but remember that missing a day is not a failure – it’s something to learn from.

Doing even one or two minutes of meditation will continue your streak.  So if for some reason you don’t meditate at the right time, try to fit some meditation in – at least one minute – before you go to sleep that night.  The key is the overall pattern of consistency, not a perfect record.

Start Small and Be Consistent

Meditate for just two minutes at first, if that’s what you can do.  Consistency is more important than duration, especially at the beginning.  Even later on, a brief meditation is better than no meditation.

Consistency is also better than performance.  The “quality” of a session is less important than meditating frequently and consistently.

Increase gradually to avoid burnout.

Don’t try to use “willpower” to produce “good” meditation sessions.  Your willpower is not capable of improving the quality of your meditation.  You cannot let go of thoughts by an effort of will – except in the sense that a little bit of will, applied every day, can gradually build a habit..

Practice With Patience and Self-Compassion

Mind-wandering is normal – don’t punish yourself for it.  Notice it without blame and return to your breath or other focus.  Be patient with yourself.

It’s true that eventually, many people improve at meditation.  They may experience states where it takes less effort to focus on the breath.  But if you expect that to happen right away, it is like a student who wants to learn calculus before they learn algebra.  It is okay to be a beginner – it’s important to accept where you currently are.  In fact, I suspect that reaching these states is not that important as far as getting the benefits of meditation, since most studies show significant benefits after only 6-8 weeks.

Notice the Positive Effects and Reward Yourself

Notice the positive valence in meditation, such as any feelings of peace, relaxation, satisfaction, or a sense of accomplishment in your meditation practice.  Notice the helpfulness, too – perhaps your mind is a bit clearer after meditating.

Bring a sense of play or joy to the meditation.  If you can find a way to make meditation more satisfying, do it.  Don’t settle for an unpleasant-feeling meditation if you can find a pleasant one.  For example, if you don’t enjoy breath meditation, try walking meditation.  If it hurts your back to sit on the floor, sit in a chair.

You can do something you enjoy after you finish meditating to reward yourself, such as reading for a few minutes or having a cup of tea.

Track your progress with an app or a calendar.  You could put a sticker in a chart to show that you meditated.

Recall the potential long-term benefits of meditation.

Find Support and Accountability (Optional)

Meditate with others at a certain time every week.

Find someone to check in with about your meditation.  You might send them a quick text each day after you meditate.

You can learn from teachers or apps.  A teacher is helpful, but a recorded guided meditation can give you a sense of being supported too.