Enjoyment Unlocks New Levels of Reality
Welcome to ✨The Joy Club Way✨, where we explore—together—ways to be more free and fully alive in the world.
I’ve been playing Pokémon Legends on at the recommendation of my video gamer kids. It’s a way to stay connected with them, and it’s fun running around a simulated Paris collecting weird but cute creatures. Climbing rooftops is one of the best parts of the game, but there are so many areas I can’t reach because I haven’t unlocked the skill to jump or fly yet. I keep playing, knowing that when I get that skill, the game will open up for me, and I’ll have access to previously restricted areas and new Pokémon to find. Cover of the Nintendo Switch Pokemon legends game Pokemon legends cover, courtesy of www.nintendo.com
I recently discovered a key like this in my meditation practice. Thought it doesn’t allow me to jump roofs, it has opened up new doorways into my practice. A bit of background first might be of help.
I have been meditating a long time. It started with yoga nidra (aka savasana pose) in my yoga classes in my 20s, and progressed to guided meditations, workshops at Omega Institute and similar new age-y places, and then Zen and Buddhist practices. A decade later, I started practicing Centering Prayer and other contemplative Christian practices. Later, as a psychology professor, I became interested in the scientific aspect of mindfulness practice and explored (and then researched) EEG-guided meditation1.
During all this time, one particular experience stands out in my memory. Back in the mid 1990s, I went on a 12-day meditation retreat in the middle of the woods in Colorado. I was dropped off by a family member and was left there with just my clothes and toothbrush. This was in the time BC (before cellphones). It was a silent retreat, with only two meals a day, and no activity allowed other than meditating. We couldn’t read or exercise (though I snuck in some yoga, as I’m always a bit of a rebel). We pretty much meditated all day, except for silent meals and dharma talks at night.
I hated every second of it.
I took a stick and scratched tally marks in the dirt, counting the days till the end of the retreat. We were forced to sit completely still and just focus on the air coming in and out of our nose, right at the tip. That’s it. Nothing else was allowed. I thought that was stupid. I wanted to focus on the rise and fall of my breath in my belly because that felt more natural to me, but we were admonished to follow the teachings exactly.
I wasn’t supposed to wipe my nose if it ran, swat a mosquito if it landed on me, or fidget. This was before I knew I had the hyperactive component of ADHD, so sitting still for hours at a time felt like torture.
About 3/4ths of the way through the retreat, I demanded to use the office emergency phone to call a friend for a ride home. (Oh, I am proud of that girl!)
I gave up on Buddhism after that experience but kept up with a twice a day meditation for a while afterwards. I did it out of a sense of obligation. I had a belief that this practice was a “good” thing to do, even if I didn’t like it. It was a “should,” not a want. I eventually dropped that particular approach to meditation and experimented with other ways. Each time, though, I did it performatively: check the box, meditation done for the day.
I don’t know exactly when I started allowing myself to listen to my own voice more. I knew that “authorities” and experts had a lot to teach me, but somewhere along the way I stopped ceding them so much power and started allowing myself to have a say in the process.
I had been practicing Centering Prayer for a while and found it similar to meditation, but less uncomfortable. I sat for 20 minutes, and when my mind wandered, I silently said my prayer word and returned back to focusing on my breath.
Centering Prayer (CP), unlike Buddhist meditation practices, is oriented towards being receptive to God, to a turning toward the divine. This shift helped me become more attuned to myself and the present moment.
One day, I noticed that there were natural “movements” during my CP time. I would start with noticing where I was that day—mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and then would turn my attention outward and give a kind of internal assent to God’s presence. This allowed me to relax into a position of receptivity. After this, I would gently focus on my breath (in my preferred area—my belly) for a while until I found myself connecting to something deeper than my worries and thoughts. Then, I sometimes found myself deeply centered within and aware of a Presence, a kind of deep knowing, and I would just bask in that for whatever time was left on my meditation timer.
This practice became my core meditation practice. It still is, though I incorporate several prayer words, instead of just one, to mark each of the movements described above. Still, I often did CP performatively, especially the middle parts where I was watching my breath rise and fall.
Over time, though, I began to allow myself to enjoy the breathing in and out for itself, not as a way to center myself, nor as a way to get to that latter place of receptivity to the divine.
And this insight—enjoyment of the process—unlocked a new level of meditation for me.
Just like jumping to a roof in Pokémon opens new areas of the game map for me, allowing myself to deeply enjoy breathing without it having lead anywhere, without having to watch my thoughts or do anything other that feel the enjoyment of breathing, made my meditation practice so much richer and deeper,
I don’t need to try and be present or exert effort to return to my breath when my mind wanders. I just return to enjoying the delicious feel of breath moving in and out of my body.
That key has transformed everything about meditation to me. No longer is it something I do to get anywhere. It is just a daily practice of dying to all the noise, wants, desires, fears that seek to control my thinking and paying attention to the simple joy of being alive right now, in this moment, breathing in and out.
Our minds are tricky though—they can turn enjoyment into something performative too. So the practice for me has become not to “try” to enjoy the practice but to actually somatically FEEL the enjoyment of it.
And it’s not dependent on my mood.
I suffer with chronic illness, and my body is often in some degree of pain, which is not fun. During meditation though, I let that pain be present, but I keep returning to what feels good in the breathing process. I notice the delicious inhale, my heart opening. The release. The cool air on my face. The birds singing. The peace of the moment. The chaos of the moment. Tears running down my face when sorrow arises. A delicate smile on my lips when a sense of deep connection arises.
I just feel all of it.
When the timer goes off, I go about my day, but meditating like this, with enjoyment as the focus, is cultivating a habit of presence and connection that I return to, off and on, throughout the day.
I am building a muscle memory of what being present feels like. It’s not something I have to do to be good or spiritual. It’s something that feels wonderful.
And though I’m often distracted and forgetful, the more I practice, the more these moments of presence pop into my awareness.
I have learned that enjoyment is the key that unlocks being present, way way more than telling myself or admonishing myself to be present. It really is a key that unlocks a new reality. I’m learning to play with this key, in different circumstances, not just during meditation.
For example, this past week, I:
- Danced in the doctor’s office when I heard Depeche Mode come on their speakers
- Jumped up and down in the pool instead of swimming laps just for the sheer enjoyment of the movement
- Made a salad with blueberries and homemade dressing even though it was easier to throw bottled dressing on the table, (like I usually do) because our French houseguest had taught me how to make a simple homemade dressing in a way that was fun
- Watched the World Cup with my husband and houseguest by jumping on a trampoline because I had been sitting all day and yet I wanted to find a way to spend time with them too
- Hugged my spouse for a longer than usual, just soaking in the feeling of touching another human being whom I loved, even though it was a little awkward too
I am still experimenting with this key. There are many, many moments when I forget about it. Like when I eat too much, or stay up scrolling my phone, or get irritated at my kids for leaving their dirty dishes out on the counter.
It’s ok. I’m human. But I know when I experiment with others, it keeps what I’m focusing on closer to the surface, and so it’s easier to practice.