Of all the things you could do to be healthier and happier, I consider meditation to rank among the very best.

We spend most of our lives thinking — judging, worrying, processing, planning, pondering, analyzing, rehashing. Most thinking isn't bad in itself, but it's an unconscious, relentless habit. We rarely notice that there's a difference between consciousness and thinking. The mind is constantly trying to grab our attention and monopolize our awareness, and usually we hand it over without a second thought.

Why does that matter? Most of our thinking pulls us away from the present moment. When it becomes our default state, it's no longer a choice — it's more like automatically reaching for your phone whenever there's a pause. Over decades of this, we forget who we really are. We start to identify most strongly with a collection of thoughts, beliefs, and memories. And in letting our thoughts define us, we put tremendous limits on ourselves.

In my view, meditation has two fundamental purposes: first, to take a break from the constant habit of thinking; and second, to experience awareness itself — to remember what we are beyond our thoughts. This is pretty much the opposite of what most of us do all day.

Can we be aware without thinking? Absolutely. Here's a short exercise: rest your gaze on something in the room or out the window. Take it in without narrating it to yourself — no inner commentary, just looking. The moment you feel a thought starting to push through, gently move your attention to something else. Try this for a minute, then come back.

How was it? Did you notice the restlessness of a mind itching to get back in the spotlight? It can feel almost like being deprived of something. Why should it be so uncomfortable to simply experience reality without a running commentary? That alone tells us something is worth examining.

There are countless meditation techniques, but I always think it's worth returning to the basics. We're simply taking time to experience awareness without thinking. We're not trying to engineer a spiritual state or make something mystical happen. We're just giving the mind a rest, and basking in the space that opens up. Even the most restless mind can eventually experience this as a profound relief.

This kind of meditation is a little like putting a child to bed. You're sitting beside them and they pop up: "I left my water bottle at school!"

You rest a gentle hand on their chest. "It's okay. You can rest now."

A moment later they're up again. "Guess what happened at lunch?"

"You can tell me all about it later. Right now, just rest."

And again: "What if Tyler tries to take my lunch money tomorrow?"

"We'll figure it out. But right now — rest."

That's what you do every time a thought arises during meditation. Gently but clearly say, in whatever words feel natural: No, thank you. Not right now. You can rest. Then simply choose not to follow it. Even when the thought is something like "Wow, I haven't had a thought in two whole minutes!" Every thought stream begins the moment you latch onto it. The practice is learning to unlatch.

Over time, you may notice that giving your attention to a thought pulls you out of a quiet, open state — like narrowing your whole field of vision down to a single small idea. With practice, the grip of thought-dominated awareness begins to loosen. Your perspective broadens, even when you're not meditating. Thoughts still arise, but instead of instantly carrying you away, you start to witness them from a place of inner space — with more room to choose how to respond.

Please give it a try, even just for one minute.

Be well, 

Peter