seven meditation tips

Hi, and welcome to the first article in the exploring mindfulness series. I started writing this article to try and answer the following question: “what are some things I know now about meditation that might have been helpful to know right from the start?” Here’s what I came up with... 

1. Eyes open or eyes closed? 

Some traditions are strict about meditating with the eyes closed, others teach that meditation must be done with the eyes open. I think there are valid reasons for doing either. Closing the eyes can help bring awareness to what’s happening inside us as it reduces visual distractions; having the eyes open can help us practise in a way that is more similar to daily life as we have to manage those visual distractions. Closing the eyes is comforting for some people and distressing for others; having the eyes open feels right for some people and weird for others. I would encourage you to try both and see what feels right for you. 

2. Mouth-breathing or nose-breathing? 

Babies breathe through their noses almost all of the time; if you’re interested in the science behind it all, here’s one of many articles that looks at why nose-breathing is more beneficial that mouth-breathing. During meditation, I recommend breathing in and out through your nose as much as you can. However, there are times when it’s not possible, or very difficult, to do this (congestion or injury, for example). In this case, it’s absolutely fine to breathe through your mouth; it won’t ruin your meditation, it just tends to be a little more stimulating and distracting. 

3. I’ve got an itch – can I scratch it?  

Different traditions and teachers respond to itches in a variety of ways, some more strict than others. Here’s what I do (spoiler alert, it’s a mini-version of the first three steps in my getting started guide – awareness, acceptance, and compassion): 

The first step is awareness: if I automatically scratch an itch without realising, there’s nothing I can do about it; in order for any of this to happen, I have to become aware of the itch, and I have to become aware of my desire to scratch it. If I notice an itch that isn’t very intense, I stick with the meditation technique that I’m doing; the moment I realise I’ve become distracted by the itch, I congratulate myself for realising and then I gently return my attention to whatever I was focusing on. I’m not trying to ignore the itch or resist it in any way (that’s rejection), I’m welcoming it and allowing it to be there without wishing to change it (that’s acceptance, the second step).  

However, if the itch is really persistent or intense, I don’t think it’s kind to continuously try and accept it being there. Imagine you’re having a conversation with a friend in a café. Your attention is on your friend, and if you realise you’ve become distracted, you congratulate yourself for realising and then gently bring your attention back to your friend. Then, someone at the table next to you spills a hot drink on themselves and starts screaming; is it kind to treat that person’s cries of pain as “distractions”, to congratulate yourself for realising that you’ve become distracted by their screams, and to bring your attention back to your friend? I don’t think so at all! This is where compassion, the third step, comes in. Compassion is a special type of kindness; it’s responding to suffering with an act of kindness, with the intention of relieving the suffering. In the café, it might be offering to help the person to a sink and turning on the cold tap for them, or it might be offering to drive them to the hospital.  

So, if I’m experiencing an itch that desperately wants to be scratched, I pause the meditation technique I’m doing and I give the itch my full attention by asking the following questions: is there a specific place in my body where I feel this itch? Is it a particular shape and size? Texture? Temperature? Colour? Is it stationary or moving in any way? Is there a word, phrase, or image that really captures what this itch feels like? It’s quite possible that, whilst giving the itch my full attention, it starts to fade. If this happens, I’ll go back to the original meditation technique. It’s also possible that the itch becomes stronger and reaches a point where it’s too intense to continue being with; if this happens, I don’t try and grit my teeth, resist it, or ignore it, I slowly and gently scratch it – giving my full attention to the process of scratching the itch by asking those same questions to feel what it’s like. Then, I’ll return to the meditation technique, repeating this for any other itches I notice. 

I use this approach with all sorts of things: pins and needles, headaches, numbness, physical pain, and the urge to cough, sneeze, or swallow to name a few; I think it’s a great way to practise the three steps – awareness, acceptance, and compassion – and to learn how to turn towards feelings rather than away from them (we’ll explore this more in step 3 of the getting started guide). 

4. If I really don’t want to continue, can I stop? 

Absolutely. You haven’t “failed” your meditation if you stop early; it wasn’t a waste of time and you haven’t undone your previous work. If you stop a meditation early, there was a reason to stop it early – there was an urge to stop it early. I respond to urges the exact same way I respond to itches. If the urge to stop meditating isn’t that strong, the moment I realise I’ve become distracted by it, I’ll congratulate myself for realising and then gently come back to the focus. If the urge is persistent or intense enough that it’s really distracting, I’ll pause the meditation technique and the give the urge my full attention: is there a place in my body where I feel this urge? Is this urge a particular shape and size? Texture? Temperature? Colour? Is it stationary or moving in any way? Is there a word, phrase, or image that really captures what this itch feels like? If it diminishes, I’ll return to the meditation technique, but if it becomes so intense that I can no longer be with it, I’ll stop the meditation (I usually do this by doing a full-body wiggle and a few deep breaths). 

5. Why do I feel so sleepy? 

For many people, the only time they really pause and be still is when they fall asleep, and this can create a strong link: “pausing and being still means sleepy time”. So, when they pause and be still whilst meditating, the body’s automatic response is “sleepy time”. By continuing to meditate, this connection will fade over time – sometimes days, sometimes weeks or months – as the body learns that pausing and being still does not always mean sleepy time.

Another reason we tend to get sleepy during meditation is this: our bodies want to rest. The body’s signal of “can we rest, please?” is often overpowered by the many distractions that occupy our daily lives. When we meditate, those distractions aren’t there to block that signal, so it comes through in full force and we realise just how tired we actually are. If you often find that you fall asleep whilst meditating, a good rest might be exactly what you need!

Sleepiness can also be a defence mechanism used by the body as a way to cope with unpleasant feelings. If, growing up, your body learned that falling asleep made the pain go away (albeit temporarily), it’s very possible that, when some unpleasant feelings come to the surface during meditation, the body’s response is to try and fall asleep. If you think this is the case for you, it’s possible to work on this alone, but it can be quite challenging so I would recommend getting in touch – talkingwithtom@outlook.com.

It’s also possible to respond to sleepiness the same way we can respond to itches or the urge to stop meditating. The moment we notice a thought such as, “I’m really tired” or “I could do with a nap”, we could congratulate ourselves for noticing and then gently bring our attention back to the focus. If the sleepiness becomes stronger, we can pause the meditation technique and give the sleepy feeling our full attention: where in my body do I feel the sleepiness? Is it a particular shape and size? Texture? Temperature? Colour? Is it stationary or moving in any way? Is there a word, phrase, or image that really captures what this sleepiness feels like? If the desire to sleep fades, we can return to the meditation technique; and if it becomes too intense to be with, it’s perfectly ok to drift off and have a well-needed rest. 

6. Words make a difference 

I think this one is so important that I’m writing an entire article on it, but I’ll summarise it here. Using the words, “I am...” tends to intensify whatever we're feeling: for example, “I am anxious” or “I am so angry”. This is called identification – we become what we’re describing. Using phrases like, “I notice some anxiety”, “a part of me feels really angry”, “something in me feels sad”, or “there’s some regret” tends to soften whatever we’re feeling. This is called observation – we're acknowledging that what we’re feeling is a part of us, that it belongs, but instead of becoming it, we’re viewing the feeling as a separate thing that we can listen to. 

7. Smile :) 

For me, meditation isn’t some strict, rigid practice that’s all about unwavering discipline, it’s not something to endure, tolerate, or get through, and it’s not about transcending anything or reaching “enlightenment”. I simply view it as some time where I get to check in with what’s going on inside me, and to connect with the parts of me that are feeling hurt or scared. Here's something that has really helped: the moment I realise that I’m frowning or clenching my jaw, I congratulate myself for realising, and then I bring a gentle smile to my face – it's made a world of difference.

If you have any meditation tips of your own, or if you'd like to ask any questions or talk to someone, I'd love to hear from you - talkingwithtom@outlook.com

Happy practising! 

Tom