The Day I Stopped Hating Meditation

I’ve always been that girl.
The one who moves too much.
The one whose brain runs a thousand tabs at once.
The one who can’t even sit still in a movie, let alone “close her eyes and breathe.”

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I’ve always been that girl.

The one who moves too much.
The one whose brain runs a thousand tabs at once.
The one who can’t even sit still in a movie, let alone “close her eyes and breathe.”

So yeah — meditation? Not exactly my thing.

I used to think it was boring, stiff, probably designed for monks or my grandmother. I tried a few guided sessions years ago, sat cross-legged like a good girl, eyes half open, trying not to peek at the time every 2 minutes. But the truth is: I found no joy in it. Zero. Nada. I thought: this is not for me.

Fast‑forward to my second yoga teacher training in India (I’ll tell you another time how I, of all people, ended up doing that — it’s a plot twist none of my family or friends saw coming 😅). I met some incredible teachers, but the one who shifted everything wasn’t a teacher — it was a friend.

Ankush.
From Bihar.
The kind of friend who doesn’t just sit with you — he sits inside the moment with you.

One day, I told him — half ashamed, half annoyed — “I really try, but I just can’t meditate. I don’t like it.”

He laughed. “Same,” he said. “But I started finding joy in it. It’s not about silencing the mind. It’s about sitting still and letting the noise pass without going into it. Like watching trains pass without hopping on.”

Then he told me, “Let’s do an experiment.”

Every day after class, we’d go somewhere noisy — a café, a street corner, a temple with chanting — and we’d just sit. Eyes closed or softly open. No perfect pose, no incense, no playlist. Just... observing.

Not reacting.
Not resisting.
Just being there.

At first, I struggled. My body fidgeted, my mind wanted a snack, a scroll, a plan. But slowly, something started shifting. And then one day — we went to this quiet place in nature, birds chirping, leaves rustling, the sacred Ganga flowing in the distance… and I found it.

That quiet.
That bubble.
That “nothingness” that somehow feels like everything.

I forgot to breathe — not in a bad way, just in that wow, I’m finally here kind of way.

What helped me most?
Ankush recommended this book: Meditation and Its Practice by Swami Rama

It’s not your typical “woo woo” manual. It’s beautifully grounded. Simple. Accessible. Here's the core of what Swami Rama teaches — in baby steps (finally, someone who gets me):

Swami Rama’s Four Gentle Stages of Meditation

1. The body
Just sit. Feel the ground.
Notice your posture, your breath, your tension.
Don’t try to change anything. Just witness.

2. The breath
Bring your attention to your breath.
Let it come and go, soft and natural.
You’re not controlling it. You’re just riding its rhythm.

3. The senses
Feel what’s around you — sound, light, temperature.
Don’t block it out. Let it all be there. Without reacting.

4. The mind
Watch your thoughts like passing clouds.
Some will tempt you — just smile and let them drift.
You’re not your thoughts. You’re the space that sees them.

Poses & Mudras? Keep it simple.

Sit on a cushion, a chair, a rock — just make sure your spine is upright and relaxed.
Place your hands gently on your knees or in your lap.
Easiest mudra to start with? Chin Mudra: thumb + index finger touch, rest of the fingers extended. Palms up.
That’s it. You don’t need a Himalayan cave or a fancy app. You just need... yourself.

My advice?

Start where you are. Don’t aim for stillness — aim for presence.
One minute is enough.
The noise will be there — just stop trying to fight it.
Watch it. Let it dance around you.

One day, without forcing it... the silence will land.
And you’ll wonder how you ever lived without it.

(PS: I made a little reel about this on Instagram — check the caption for more tips 💛)