Using Writing as a Meditation Tool
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Recently, I asked myself if writing could actually help me discover a way to find a sense of calm, a way for my mind to process the people and the things in my environment. My intuition has always told me that this might be the case, but I had never sat down formally to think about it. Can writing be a way to learn more about myself, and as an end result, find wisdom?
As a way to find out, I have been taking notes as I observed my experience in writing in the past few weeks. Nowadays, I am spending most of my day writing. This writing includes business writing (e-mail and other work communication), journalism for Ars Technica, writing my fiction, social interactions with friends and family, and also writing down my dreams each morning. That’s a lot of time spent in the chair.
Of these types of writing, it’s really only the writing of journalism, fiction and the dream journal that stand out for me as candidates for exploring a meditative state. For the sake of this experiment, I’ll leave out the other types of writing, which to me feel less solitary, and run the risk of having many distractions while we perform them. Admit it. You too, have texted while watching tv or walking down the street, and you’ve certainly written an email while you watch a YouTube video in the background.
I wanted to really discover what writing was doing for my inner self, so I listened to the way I felt, the way my body reacted, and the way my words made me feel afterward about the experience of writing, in order to know how these worked. Please keep in mind that this was a purely experiential experiment, and that my results are completely anecdotal. For each type of writing, I used my most focused writing sessions to write down my observations, though I did also pay attention to other instances where the writing was not coming easily to me.
Here’s what I found out.
Writing melts the concept of time
During solid writing sessions, fiction and journalism writing completely erased my notion of time. I have known this for some time, but when I paid attention to this phenomenon, I was struck by the amazing power we each have in our minds to defy time. And I don’t mean to idealize the kind of writing that happened: in some cases, these were difficult writing sessions, but when my mind was fully aware of the task, fully engaged in writing, time simply stopped having a past, a future, or even a present. If you like writing, and you enjoy this feeling of disconnecting from time, I highly recommend this process. By the way, I think it only works when you are really, really curious about your subject, story, or characters. If you’re writing and you hate the activity or the assignment, I doubt it’s going to work (unless you can work with your mind to convince yourself to find it interesting).
Writing peels the onion that is my rotten mind
I really do believe that writing can reveal hints of who we really are, even if we ourselves are not able to easily decipher it for ourselves. As I look back on articles I have written, I can recollect good memories of wanting to bring the truth of each story out. In fiction, the act of moving characters through a story has revealed to me some of the brightest (and the darkest) questions I seem to have as a person about the human condition and the universe. Yes, when our characters do horrible things, I think we are expressing our curiosity about these terrible things our thirst for blood.
The dream journal I have been keeping reveals some of the deepest layers of the mind, and I have to be honest with you: It spooks me to read back on earlier entries. The images and stories are so strange, so disjointed, that they almost make sense. And when they do make sense, they scare me a little. It’s like peeking at a mirror inside a haunted mansion. Is there this much turbulence, ego and fear in my mind? The words I write down to describe my dreams each morning indicate this is so.
Finding out that our minds contain both noble creatures and horrible monsters shouldn’t be a revelation to any adult. This is the burden and the enigma of being human, and smarter minds than myself, dating back to the Greek philosophers, have been exploring how this contradictory nature of the mind can be so….everlasting. So, rather than to shy away from the scariest parts of my mind, I think it’s worth moving closer to it. I do this not to embrace it, but to get in front of it, then under it, and discover why it’s there. I do believe writing is a unique revelatory vehicle to help discover this. It can’t be the only tool, of course. I imagine a solid meditation practice, and everyday experience in society are better tools to discover ourselves. But if we pay attention enough to what we have written, we may find some of our best clues.
We are all a minotaur. We are half human, and half beast. You choose which half is the monster, and which one is the noble creature. I have yet to determine which is which, for me.
Writing is as elusive as meditation practice
I don’t have much experience meditating. In fact, I can’t meditate for more than five minutes without caving into restlessness. Meditation is elusive, and it requires being mindful in a way that until now, still doesn’t feel 100 percent natural to me. In other words, meditation is really damn difficult. As I write this, I am considering signing up for a couple of classes in meditation so I can learn how to do it. I like the secular nature of some the Buddhist schools of meditation, so I may give those a whirl. If you have a recommendation, please leave me one in the comments.
But what’s the point of saying that I have had a hard time sitting in my living room closed with my eyes closed? Well, it’s very similar to writing, I think. When we write with a full awareness of who we are, and what our environment is, I think we are approaching a state that is similar to meditation. And if this is the case, if you’re with me on this simile, I have some bad news to deliver. Writing with full intention and awareness is tough as nails.
If you’re a writer and you’re reading this blog, you know how tough it can be to find the right writing groove. It comes from a combination of good sitting posture, a sense of well being in the body, a room that stimulates us, and sounds that can support our intention to write. Incidentally, I will mention that I write with music, and I find that many songs and artists will put me into a trance-like mode when I am writing. The music almost seems to melt into the background, and something pretty primal, like a texture of the sound, remains, allowing me to focus on writing. The drama and stress we bring into a writing session also counts for a lot. If you just fought with your spouse, or if you’re worried about your bills, those mental distractions may keep you from getting into that writing groove. If you procrastinate, you will find it’s very similar to walking away from meditation because you have too much other stuff “to do.” I know this is true, because it’s happened to me many times.
All that being said, there are so many writers who have written grand works while under the most stressful situations. Did the writing work as meditation for them, to help ease their mind and their subconscious? Or was it simply a vehicle to offload some other mental energy onto the page or screen? I would like to know.
In conclusion, I think calling writing a meditation tool is adequate, but only adequate. I have to be careful to not label writing as meditation itself. I think meditation is something else altogether, and I am curious to explore it myself in the next few months. But I am convinced that writing, like running, yoga, dance and instrument playing, might work as a channel to tap into this meditative state. In essence, writing can offer a hint of what it might be like to discover oneself through meditation.
If this is so, my work is cut out for me. I want to find out more, and as I learn more, I promise to share it with you.
Incidentally, my writing is going pretty well lately. I am at work on a new novel, and I have some promising activity happening on the previous two I have written. Yes, I am trying to get these published, and while I don’t have news to give you yet, I am in a good place as far as the business of publishing books goes. In recent weeks, writing down my dreams has acted like a catalyst to stimulate my creative process, and it’s something I did not expect would happen. But let me tell you, when you dream about dream cities, encounters with Medusa, and other strange events, it is sure to push you to a new place.
When I figure out how I will tackle the task of finding a meditation class, I’ll be sure to tell you, lovers. Thanks for reading.
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