Meditation – Nonsense or Nirvana?

Almost a year ago, his meditation took a different and far more satisfactory direction.

And now, many months later the benefits had become evident. It was not that he found himself living in some alternate universe or in a permanent state of bliss.

But he found himself able to say that his thrice daily practice almost inevitably brought pure peace, bliss almost, for its duration.

After a stop start dalliance with the practice and with Eastern philosophy in general, the penny had finally dropped. Better late than never.

He found that his personality, his behaviour, while not “changing” as such, was becoming moulded or fashioned in a manner of his own choosing.

The process was by no means over and the metamorphosis would continue. Or thus was his fervent hope.

His past practice had been defective in several ways. In constancy, certainly, but equally importantly in technique.

He had found few useful guides over the years and had always imagined the process far more complex and ritualistic than it turned out to be. If you see references to the x stages of meditation, the y levels of attainment and so on, his firm advice would be to turn the page.

The way was made plain to him when he visited hypnotist John Butler, who had provided sage advice over many years. If Mr Butler is able to hypnotise himself and others to feel no pain under invasive surgery (and he can) it seemed obvious that the techiques he taught should be able to attain all sorts of other good things.

What he had never grasped properly over the years was the power of self persuasion. Never having been able to persuade himself consciously of anything (other than the beastliness of the universe) the true potential of changing his subconscious mind evaded him for years. Despite previous failures, for some reason more recent endeavours paid off.

Meditation is often thought of as sitting quietly watching your breath. Which is all well and good but in his case achieved no lasting change. Nor any swift onset of a merciful state of bliss.

The process of self hypnosis is simple enough and can lead to a deep meditative state. It requires belief in the process and endless repetition. In his case for around 20 minutes, three times a day, although his sessions would often extend to an hour if the mood so took him.

Getting into a state of trance is simplicity itself. Dave Elman’s books or those of Gill Boyne provide endless methods, but eventually you develop your own. And with practice the induction becomes very swift.

A light state of trance is not so very different from the waking state. A little more peaceful and relaxed, the harsh realities of the physical universe somewhat remote. As a trance is deepened, thought almost disappears and the mind itself seems absent or at least very different. He found truths struck him out of the blue, unusual patterns and feelings became prevelant, and previously forgotten memories often resurfaced .

In deeper states (which came, inevitably, three times a day) the qualitative experience was not unlike a mild trip on psychedelic drugs. Most satisfying, he felt.

The work involved was simple enough. Initially much preparation was put into defining a few concise sentences describing how one wanted to be, to become. Those sentences were then summarises by a single appropriate word, and an image.

When in a state of trance, the key word is repeated in a lazy, dreamy fashion and the image seen, in the minds eye. The key word or words forms a sort of mantra. He found it could be used to both deepen the trance and to expel intrusive thought.

He felt himself becoming more as he wished to become. Over the weeks and months, the suggestions seemed to have become a part of him, the thoughts took root.

“As man thinketh in his heart, so is he”.

He lapsed occasionally. Snapishness or churlish temper might hold sway for a short while, but he found himself better able to recover, as some part of his mind took corrective action, became aware of a digression from the mapped path.

He became increasingly aware of his ever passing moods and more able to head off those he found less useful, before their grip became entrenched and unshakeable .

Far from being a chore, the daily sessions became a pleasure. Sometimes he sat in the garden as he drifted off into his private world. Often he would sit on a park bench or in a field . Or in some favoured church or other quiet place. Some say meditation can be successfully undertaken in the bustle of the everyday world but that he found a struggle and a step too far.

The peace enjoyed during these sessions increasingly spread to the rest of his life and the perennial black moods dissipated. Whether for good or for some brief spell he had yet to find out. Cause and effect, never straightforward, nevertheless seemed to have something to say. His moods and his life seemed improved and he had to put at least some of it down to his practice.

It would not be accurate or realistic for him to claim that he was transformed. That a gruff and surly fellow had, by means of meditation, become a pious and kindly soul determined to make the world a better place. But at least he was on the right path. At least he felt better about himself and his place in reality.

More than ever he hoped for a better world. But from an increasing distance and without any real hope that some Parousia or other miracle would bring a swift change for the better. Perhaps he did however have a firmer intuition that in the greater scheme of things, nothing was so vastly important. Perhaps a few more eons would either put paid to the awful race who had named itself human, or change them unrecognisably for the better. He wasn’t too bothered either way.

He remained contentedly on the sidelines. Watching the world go by with quiet resignation and sometimes amusement. He did not want to see or be seen. To be among the good and the great. To sit with the rich and the famous or to play games of greed and power. Simplicity and silence was all he needed, far from the madding crowd.

Meditation, guided by his own mantra, was leading him to a very different world where all that mattered was quietly flowing with the stream . And kindness, when it could be offered, was the most precious of commodities.

Would it yet take him to Nirvana, his practice? He didn’t know but in his current state of mind he wondered whether it really mattered. Perhaps simple peace was enough or perhaps that was Nirvana, after all.

Perhaps Nirvana awaited him on the other side of a wardrobe door. In a rambling old country house in Shropshire.

In meditation he could feel himself brushing past ancient fur coats, beginning to feel a crisp chill. And to see an old fashioned lamp post lighting a snow filled clearing in a deep and mysterious forest.

Perhaps one day he would hear the lion and feast with dancing dryads and naiads in some sylvan paradise.

Sometimes, the dream seemed almost close.