You Are Not Bad at Meditating

I often hear from my patients that they can't meditate. I hear a lot of reasons— and I’ll be honest, many of these reasons are actually misunderstandings about what meditation is OR a huge red flag to me that this person needs the practice even more.

"I don't have time." "I can't clear my mind." "I can't sit still that long." "My mind is too busy."

Saying that you can't meditate because you can't clear your mind is like saying you can't take Spanish class because you don't speak Spanish. It doesn’t make sense.

The mind thinks automatically — just like the heart beats, the lungs breathe, and food digests. The mind thinks because that is what it does. Even monks and other highly experienced meditators have thoughts because that is what the mind does. Meditation acts like a gentle clearing of those thoughts. A moment to be fully present in the moment and allow all those subconscious thoughts and stressors to be digested.

Meditation is any practice of choosing an anchor and gently training the mind to come back to that anchor, again and again.

That's it. That's the whole thing. An analogy I love that Jack Kornfield uses is that it is like training a young puppy to stay. At first the puppy wanders off the second you tell it to “stay”. But with time and practice, the puppy learns to stay a little longer.

The coming back is the practice. If your mind wandered forty times in five minutes and you returned forty times, you didn't fail at meditation. You did forty repetitions, and you gained HUGE benefits from the practice of presence. You metabolized stress. You allowed your nervous system to rest for a moment. You lengthened your telomeres. You connected the right and left hemispheres from your brain. You became smarter.

What the research actually shows

Regular practice is associated with lower cortisol and reduced markers of inflammation. It improves heart rate variability — a direct measure of how flexibly your nervous system can shift between activation and rest. It calms reactivity in the amygdala, the brain's threat detector, while strengthening the prefrontal regions that regulate it. It quiets the default mode network, the circuitry that runs the endless background narration of self-referential thought, which is where most rumination lives.

Structurally, eight weeks of consistent practice has been associated with measurable changes in gray matter density in regions involved in learning, memory, and emotional regulation. In long-term practitioners, researchers have found thicker regions of the corpus callosum — the great bridge of white matter connecting the two hemispheres — which may reflect greater integration between them. And attention research consistently shows improvements in sustained attention and working memory. Not a higher IQ, but a mind that stays where you put it, which in daily life is often the more useful thing. Basically, a regular meditation practice can lower stress, help optimize mental performance and make you better at focusing— and who doesn’t want that?

At the cellular level, several studies have found increased telomerase activity in meditators — the enzyme that maintains the protective caps on your chromosomes. Whether that translates to measurably longer telomeres and better aging is still an open question, but the direction is promising.

Here is what I find most compelling, though: none of this requires you to be good at it. It simply requires you to show up regularly to practice.

Why the mantra

The breath and mindfulness techniques can certainly be helpful, but today I am introducing you to one of the most powerful meditation techniques I have expeirimented with in my own life. Mantra meditation. A mantra is a Sanskrit word, gently repeated over and over in your mind. A mantra gives the mind something to hold.

And I want to be precise about that word, because it has been thoroughly diluted today. In everyday English, "mantra" now means a slogan — a company's mantra, a coach's mantra, good vibes only on a throw pillow.

That is not what this is.

Traditionally, mantra comes from two Sanskrit roots: man, meaning mind or to think, and tra, a suffix indicating an instrument or tool. Literally, an instrument of the mind. A mind anchor. Some traditions trace the second root instead to trai, to protect or to free — that which frees the mind. Either way, the word describes a function, not a message.

This is the important distinction. A modern wellness mantra is usually an affirmation — a statement about yourself you are trying to convince yourself of. I am enough. I am worthy. I am calm. There's nothing wrong with those, but they ask something of you. They require belief. And if you don't yet believe them, they can quietly become one more thing you're failing at.

A traditional mantra asks nothing. It isn't a claim you have to accept. It's simply a place to rest your attention.

There is another reason the traditional mantras are in Sanskrit, and it has to do with sound rather than meaning. Sanskrit was preserved orally for millennia with extraordinary precision — not just which words, but exactly how each syllable was to be shaped and voiced. In the tradition, the sound itself is understood to be the active ingredient. A mantra is considered a vibration first and a definition second, which is why practitioners are often told not to worry much about translation.

Sustained, resonant sound — chanting, humming, the long drawn-out syllable — naturally slows the breath and lengthens the exhale, stimulates the vagus nerve, and shifts you toward a parasympathetic state.

The mantra I recommend most often is So Hum. It appears in the Upanishads and has been used for thousands of years, usually translated as "I am that" — a recognition of belonging to something larger than the small self, whatever that means to you personally. And it maps beautifully onto the breath, because the syllables echo the sound of breathing itself: So on the inhale, Hum on the exhale.

You don't have to believe any of it for it to work. If the meaning resonates, wonderful. If it doesn't, it still functions perfectly well as pure sound — two syllables that give your attention a shape to return to. And if you feel uncomfortable starting with mantra, just focus on your breath— in , out.

That's all an anchor has to be.

The practice: ten minutes, first thing

I encourage ten minutes, in the morning, before the day gets its hands on you. Everyone can make 10 minutes once a day. Set your alarm a little earlier and allow yourself this gentle runway into the day. Watch how your nervous system shifts. This is why first thing in the morning matters — you're setting the tone of your nervous system before the inbox, the news, and everyone else's needs set it for you.

The Practice:

Settle in. Sit comfortably — chair, cushion, edge of the bed. Feet on the floor if you're in a chair. Back can be supported if that feels better to you. Hips above knees so it’s easier to sit up straight if you are on the floor. Let your eyes close and settle into your body, the moment, and the day,

Box breathe, a few rounds. Inhale for a count of four. Hold for four. Exhale for four. Hold for four. Do this four or five times. This isn't the meditation — it's the on-ramp. It tells the body something different is happening now and helps you anchor into this moment.

Then let the breath go back to normal. Stop counting. Stop shaping it. Just notice it for a few breaths — where you feel it, how it moves. Let the body breathe itself.

Now bring in the mantra. About ten minutes. On the inhale, repeat silently: So. On the exhale, silently: Hum. Not spoken, not forced. Let the syllables ride on the breath rather than driving it.

Your mind will wander. That is not a problem — it is the entire point. When you notice you've drifted into the grocery list or an old conversation, simply return to So... Hum. No frustration, no commentary, no starting over. Just back to the puppy, gently, again and again.

Then stop and stay. For one more minute, drop the mantra entirely. Don't do anything. Just sit in whatever quiet is there and let yourself soak it up. This last minute is often where people first feel it — and it's the part almost everyone skips.

Then open your eyes. I like to spend a moment feeling grateful— some days I intentionally pick 3 things to focus on, other days I just feel into gratitude for the day, the sunrise, my breath. Then I set an intention for the day. I take one more breath and I begin.

What happens after a few weeks

Here's the thing nobody tells you at the beginning, because it sounds like a sales pitch. At first this will feel like a chore (or it might, you might enjoy it right away too!). You'll set the timer and check how much is left. That's normal, and it passes. Even seasoned meditators have some days like this occasionally.

But somewhere around the third or fourth week, something shifts. You start noticing that you're less reactive in traffic. That the difficult conversation didn't hijack your whole afternoon. That there's a small gap between something happening and you responding to it — and that in that gap, you have a choice you didn't have before.

And then one morning you'll skip it, and the day will feel slightly off. That's when it stops being discipline. Eventually most people stop making themselves do it. They start wanting those ten minutes. Not because they're virtuous, but because they've experienced what it's like to move through a day with a settled nervous system, and they'd rather have that than not. Ten minutes become the anchor, not the sacrifice. They become the ten minutes of the day that belong entirely to YOU.

One note before you begin. For some people — particularly those carrying trauma or significant anxiety — closing the eyes and turning inward can initially amplify distress rather than settle it. If that's you, keep your eyes softly open, gazing down, or anchor on sound instead of breath. If this is you you may need to move some of that energy first thing before you can sit. Meet that energy where it is at— try a short walk outside (no phone!) or a few minutes of yoga first to settle the mind and body. And I am here to talk at your next visit if needed. There are many different avenues to the same thing, you may just need a bit more guidance.

For everyone else: you don't need to clear your mind. You don't need to be good at this. You need an anchor, and the willingness to return, to stay present and to be in the practice. Because it is called a practice after-all , not a “perfect”!

And coming back is something you already know how to do.