At the moment this post is published--Monday evening--I'm probably miserable. But I can't say for sure.
Monday is the third full day of a week-long silent meditation retreat I'm attending. Since being on a silent meditation retreat means cutting off all contact with the world, I had to write this post before the retreat started. But since this isn't my first week-long meditation retreat, I can with some confidence predict how I'll be feeling three days into it. And it's not a great feeling.
As I put it a couple of years ago in a piece I wrote about my first meditation retreat:
"We spent 5.5 hours per day in sitting meditation, 5.5 hours per day in walking meditation. By day three I was feeling achy, far from nirvana and really, really sick of the place.
I was sick of my 5 a.m. "yogi job" (vacuuming), I was sick of the bland vegetarian food, and I wasn't especially fond of all those Buddhists with those self-satisfied looks on their faces, walking around serenely like they knew something I didn't know (which, it turns out, they did)."
I believe in meditation. It's been in use for about 2000 years in western culture. It works as a significant aid to relief of anxiety and stimulation of positive regions of the brain. It's called prayer.
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There are clearly claims regarding meditation that have been disproven but there are many rigorous studies proving its benefits.
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