When it comes to meditation, you can certainly begin by simply sitting; however, it’s essential to focus solely on that act. If you can completely immerse yourself in sitting—allowing non-movement to be your only movement—it transforms into meditation. In fact, the term Zen originates from zazen, meaning “just sitting” and doing nothing. Yet, achieving this state can be challenging.
Sitting may feel effortless when you’re engaging in other activities, but the moment you attempt to sit still and do nothing, it can become problematic. You’ll notice every fiber of your being beginning to stir; every vein and muscle may start to twitch. You might even experience a subtle trembling, and become aware of parts of your body that you never noticed before. The more you try to just sit, the more internal movement you’ll perceive. Thus, sitting is best approached only after engaging in other activities.
Walking can be a simpler starting point. Dancing can be even easier. After you’ve explored these more dynamic forms of movement, you can then transition to sitting. Adopting a Buddha posture should ideally be one of the last steps in your practice; it should not be the starting point. Only after becoming fully acquainted with movement can you begin to identify with non-movement.
I never advise people to start with sitting. It’s better to begin from a place where you feel comfortable; otherwise, you may encounter unnecessary distractions—those feelings that aren’t truly there. If you jump into sitting right away, you might experience significant internal disturbances. The more you strive to sit still, the more turmoil you may uncover, leading to an overwhelming awareness of your racing thoughts. This could foster feelings of depression and frustration rather than bliss. Ultimately, you might even feel as if you’re losing your sanity.
If you genuinely commit to just sitting, the risk of feeling overwhelmed can escalate. The reason insanity doesn’t occur more frequently is that most people do not engage sincerely. When you adopt a sitting posture, you may uncover layers of madness within yourself, and if you persist sincerely, it could push you toward genuine insanity. This has happened many times before, which is why I avoid suggesting practices that could lead to frustration, depression, or heightened awareness of one’s own madness. It’s important to gradually familiarize yourself with such feelings. Knowledge isn’t always beneficial; it should unfold at a pace that aligns with your ability to absorb it.
I start with your chaos rather than a specific posture; I embrace your madness. When you dance wildly, a transformation occurs within you. Through this expressive dance, you become aware of a silent core within; conversely, when you sit quietly, you may become conscious of your own madness. Awareness often arises from opposites. By allowing your chaotic dancing, crying, and erratic breathing, you start to recognize a subtle, deep stillness within you, standing in stark contrast to the chaos surrounding you. You will experience profound bliss at your core, where silence resides. However, if you choose to simply sit, it is the inner turmoil that prevails; while you may appear calm on the outside, internally, you are agitated.
Beginning with something active—something vibrant, lively, and dynamic—will yield better results. As you engage in this movement, an inner stillness will gradually emerge. The more this stillness grows, the easier it will become to assume a sitting or lying posture, making deeper meditation possible. By that time, everything will feel fundamentally different.
A meditation technique that starts with movement and action provides additional benefits. It acts as a catharsis. When you’re merely sitting, frustration arises; your mind craves movement, yet you remain still. Every muscle and nerve is tense. You’re attempting to impose something unnatural upon yourself, creating a divide between the part of you that enforces and the part that is being constrained. The suppressed aspect is often the more authentic one, representing a larger part of your psyche than the controlling side, and ultimately, this dominant part is destined to prevail.
What you suppress should not be held back; it needs to be released. This accumulation stems from ongoing suppression throughout your upbringing, societal norms, and education, all of which tend to repress our true selves. A more conscious education and aware parenting could have fostered a healthier release of these emotions.
For instance, when a child feels anger, we often say, “Do not be angry.” This leads to the suppression of their feelings. Over time, what was once a fleeting emotion becomes a permanent state. The child may not display anger outwardly, but it lingers within. We accumulate anger from transient moments; no one can sustain anger unless it has been repeatedly suppressed. Anger is meant to be expressed; when it is, you are no longer angered. In my approach, I would encourage the child to embrace their anger authentically—feel it deeply, without suppression.
Certainly, challenges will arise. When we say, “Be angry,” it often leads to directing that anger toward someone. However, a child can be guided; you can provide them with a pillow and encourage, “Express your anger at the pillow. Release your frustration into it.” From early on, a child can be raised in a way that redirects their anger. By giving them an object to throw, they can release their anger quickly, dissipating it within moments and preventing any buildup.
You may have accumulated anger, desire, violence, and greed. This accumulation creates a chaotic inner world. If you start with any suppressive meditation—like merely sitting—you’re stifling these emotions instead of letting them out. Hence, I advocate for catharsis as a starting point. First, allow all those suppressed feelings to be expressed; when you can release your anger into the air, you achieve a level of maturity.
If I can only express love in the presence of someone I care about, then I have not yet reached maturity. My ability to love should not depend on the presence of another person; otherwise, my love is merely superficial and not intrinsic to my nature. If I find myself alone and devoid of love, it indicates that the loving quality has not truly embedded itself within me.
Maturity increases as independence grows. If you can feel anger without needing an object to direct it towards, you demonstrate greater maturity. Thus, I insist on catharsis as an essential practice. You must release everything into the open air, without focusing on any specific target.
Be angry without directing it at a person. Cry without needing a reason; laugh without a stimulus. This way, you can fully expel the accumulated emotions. Once you learn how to do this, you can liberate yourself from all the burdens of the past.
In just moments, you can free yourself from the weight of your life experiences—perhaps even lifetimes. If you’re willing to let everything flow out, allowing your inner turmoil to surface, you will experience profound cleansing. You emerge renewed, innocent—like a child once more. In this state of innocence, sitting meditation can be practiced effortlessly—sitting or lying down—because there’s no longer a chaotic mind to disrupt your peace.
Cleansing must be prioritized—catharsis is essential. Without it, practices like breathing exercises or yoga postures merely suppress your feelings. Interestingly, once you’ve permitted everything to be released, sitting and asanas will happen naturally and spontaneously.
You might not have had any prior knowledge of yoga asanas, but as you start practicing them, you discover their authentic nature. These postures facilitate significant transformation within your body, as you engage in them naturally rather than forcing them. For instance, someone who has let go of many burdens might attempt to stand on their head. Perhaps they have never learned the headstand, or shirshasan, but now their entire body feels compelled to try it. This act emerges from an inner wisdom rather than from intellectual knowledge. If their body urges them to “stand on your head!” and they surrender to that urge, the experience can be incredibly refreshing and transformative.
You can practice any posture, but I only endorse those that arise spontaneously. Someone might sit quietly in siddhasan or another pose, yet this siddhasan is entirely different; the quality is distinct. If someone is merely striving for silence while seated, it feels forced, but when sitting arises organically, there’s no suppression or struggle; it’s simply a reflection of how the body feels. In that moment, one’s entire being naturally desires to sit. This sitting transcends a divided mind and becomes a blossoming experience.
You may have noticed statues of Buddha seated on a lotus flower. The lotus symbolizes what unfolds within the Buddha. When ‘just sitting’ occurs from within, it mirrors the blossoming of a flower. Nothing is repressed from the outside; instead, there is growth and unfolding from within. Something inside opens and flourishes. While you may mimic Buddha’s posture, you cannot replicate the essence of the flower. You might achieve a posture that appears more Buddhalike than the Buddha himself, but the inner flowering will be absent. Imitation is not possible.
You can employ techniques, such as manipulating your breathing rhythms to induce stillness and suppress thoughts. Breath can be a suppressive tool, as each rhythm evokes a particular mood in your mind. This doesn’t mean other moods vanish; they merely recede into the background.
You can force emotions upon yourself. For instance, to evoke anger, you can adopt the breathing rhythm associated with it. Actors often alter their breathing patterns to express anger; by quickening their breath, they summon the anger that lies within their mind. Thus, breathing rhythms can be harnessed to suppress thoughts, but this approach lacks authenticity and does not lead to true flourishing. A more effective method involves allowing the mind to change first, which subsequently influences the breath.
I regard breathing rhythms as indicators. A person at ease with themselves maintains a consistent breathing rhythm that does not fluctuate due to mental states. While it may vary with physical activity, it remains steady regardless of the mind’s fluctuations.
Tantra recognizes many breathing rhythms as secret keys. It even permits sexual intercourse as a form of meditation, but only if the breathing rhythm remains steady throughout; otherwise, it is discouraged. If the mind becomes engaged, the breathing rhythm will inevitably shift. Conversely, if the breathing remains consistent, the mind is uninvolved. If the mind can step back even in such a profound biological act as intercourse, it can similarly detach from other aspects of life.
However, one can impose a rhythm on oneself, creating a false appearance of Buddhalike posture, but this will lead to a sense of dullness. Many monks and sadhus fall into this trap, becoming devoid of intelligence and inner light. Their eyes lose their spark, and their faces appear vacant and uninspired. This suppression of all inner movement, including intelligence—one of the subtlest forms of movement—ultimately stifles their cognitive abilities.
Awareness is not a fixed state; it is a dynamic flow. If you start from the outside and force yourself to remain motionless, you stifle much of what could be. First, focus on catharsis—clearing your mind and letting go of everything—so that you can become an empty vessel, ready to receive inspiration from beyond. Only then will stillness and silence become beneficial.
To me, silence alone lacks intrinsic value. It can easily become a dead silence. True silence should be vibrant and alive. If you merely create a sort of silence, you risk becoming dull and lifeless; while this may seem easier, it leads many to a path of suppression. The culture around us is so repressive that it’s tempting to suppress ourselves even further to avoid taking risks.
People often approach me asking for a meditation technique that they can practice in silence. But why this fear? Everyone harbors an inner chaos, yet they still request a method that allows them to remain silent. Engaging in a silent technique without addressing this inner turmoil will only amplify madness—silently, of course.
Open the doors of your inner chaos! Don’t fear the opinions of others. Those preoccupied with what others think can never truly delve inward; they will be too caught up in external judgment.
If you simply sit in silence with your eyes closed, everything might seem fine; your spouse may commend you for being a good person. Society often desires conformity, even advocating for obedience and silence. Many so-called virtuous individuals are, in reality, lifeless.
Thus, do not concern yourself with others’ perceptions or the image they may hold of you. Begin with catharsis, and then something genuine can blossom within you—something with a unique quality and beauty that is authentic.
When silence arrives, it is not manufactured; it emerges naturally. You will feel it growing within you, much like a mother senses her child developing. A profound silence will take root inside you, nurturing transformation; otherwise, you risk merely engaging in self-deception. One can fool oneself indefinitely—the capacity for such deception is boundless.