Tuesday afternoon, I spoke to a pair of creative writing classes at UCLA. The format was pretty typical. We went around the room and introduced ourselves. I read from something of mine they’d been assigned, then it was q&a for an hour. One student caught me by surprise, a young woman with blue hair, when she asked, “Do you ever have any silent moments?”
They’d been asking me about my media diet. I’d said something like news in the morning, podcasts on the walk or drive to work, a book in the afternoon, a magazine and music with a cocktail, a movie or TV show during dinner, and if it wasn’t a work night, usually an hour with a book before bed. I made a joke about the privileges of adulting without children-ing, then the woman asked her question. I had to think. I said sometimes on my walks, I don’t listen to anything. I said I really value time with friends, which isn’t silent, but at least reprieve from consumption?
The student stared at me, unblinking, with a twinge of pity, I think.
It was funny to hear this question on the week I’d decided, Sunday night, to rededicate myself to being quiet. Because I’m always doing, doing things, which isn’t at all the same as just being. So, the plan was to resume meditation, to carve out a spot in the day for nothing.
What’s that saying: if you can’t find 15 minutes in your day to meditate, then you probably need to find thirty minutes in your day to meditate.
My meditation history is spotty, also app-y. According to the phone, I’ve been using the Headspace guided meditation app since 2014. In that time, I’ve meditated 1,384 minutes, about 2 minutes a day, though that’s a stupid number since there were years I didn’t use the app at all, months I meditated every day for 15 minutes, months I used it for 5 minutes a day once a week.
For me, I prize a little meditation as my dark mountain mindset. No texts, no deadlines, nobody else; a step out of the time-stream to reconnect. I close my eyes and do the little exercises, focus on my breathing. Go to the mountain and see what I can see. Thoughts float by like pesky clouds. Inevitably, I come out feeling rejuvenated, lightened, and the day is more of a pleasure, similar to early mornings when I play tennis hard, then go about my day.
Hilariously, just as I finished writing that last sentence, a friend and reader of this newsletter texted me out of the blue:
Sentience is SO bizarre, isn’t it? Being aware of being aware? Always blows my mind.
Headspace was started in 2010 by Andy Puddicombe, a former Buddhist monk. We met eight years later at a small cottage in Venice Beach and spoke in a room above one of the studios where he recorded his daily meditations. (This was for an interview for Everything Now; unfortunately it didn’t make it into the book.) I was curious about his daily life, what it was like to be a celebrity monk. He said it was strange. He was often recognized by voice, it happened on airplanes, in restaurants, if a Headspace user overheard his singular Scottish accent. He talked about being a father of young children and how, despite all his training in India and Nepal, years of living in monasteries and cloistered retreat, he still used meditation to help with basic daily stressors.
Because that was the thing, he said in so many words: generally speaking, the purpose of meditation, of Headspace, wasn’t to help you chase happiness or better health, but to reduce suffering, to help people suffer less.
I thought about that a lot this week, when I resisted meditating. Were my demands so many I really couldn’t find the time? One day I meditated right after I woke up. Two days, I left early for appointments and meditated in my car in parking spots. I also took a couple long walks in silence, no headphones – and as though shocked by the silence, my imagination soon perked up and started throwing out ideas.
In the creative writing classes, a lot of students wanted practical advice: editing ideas, tips on how to publish. I was happy to share what I knew. But I also could have told them this: something pummels you. Everybody. Something unseen has it in for you – this is the basic condition. But, cheesy as it sounds, your breath is your own.
In tomorrow’s supplement for paying subscribers:
Songs recommended by undergraduates, and the new album I can’t stop playing
A compelling example of synthetic love-bombing
Recent favorites on Hulu, HBO, Netflix, and the Criterion Channel
Btw next week’s dispatch will be the monthly long piece for supporters, about a night last month, during a 96-hour, 30+ mile traipse around New Orleans, when I proposed marriage to a 25-year-old. Sign up to find out what she said!
What the what
Meditations in an Emergency is a weekly dispatch from author Rosecrans Baldwin about something beautiful. Supporters receive a Sunday supplement with three-plus things to love, along with a longer piece once a month sent from the road, for some inbox wanderlust. ⛰️
Books mentioned in Meditations in an Emergency are stored on a Bookshop list.