– Sharon Salzberg
It was the Friday of Presidents’ Day weekend, and I was flying to meet my family for a quick getaway. On my way to Newark Airport, I got caught in endless holiday traffic. By the time I arrived, I was anxious and rushed. I made my way through security as quickly as I could, sprinted to the gate, and arrived at the boarding door just as it was closing.
The plane was sitting right there, just outside the window. But I was told I could not board. My heart sank. I begged them to let me on, but with no success. And because it was a very busy holiday weekend, I knew it would be difficult to find anyone to help me rebook. The airport was overcrowded, the lines were long, and the chances of finding another available flight were slim.
Alone, sad, frustrated, and irritated, I started to cry.
When I called a friend to vent, she asked, “How is all that mindfulness working for you now?” The implication, of course, was that my mindfulness was not working because, if it were, I would not be upset.
But this is one of the great misunderstandings about the practice.
Meditation does not make life all smooth sailing. It does not eliminate the pain, hardship, uncertainty, disappointment, or irritation we experience. My life, like everyone’s life, still comes with ups and downs, joy and difficulty, irritation and ease.
Life is just like that. There is no avoiding it.
What meditation has done — and what I believe is the true gift of this incredible practice — is that it has helped me get better at being human. I still feel all the feelings. I still get disappointed. I still get irritated. I may even cry in airports. But this practice has helped me develop a wiser and more compassionate relationship with myself, with what I feel, and with what is happening.
Instead of getting completely lost in the storyline — the endless mental commentary about why this should not be happening, why I should not feel this way, or why life should be other than it is — I have learned, little by little, to drop into the fullness of the present moment. To feel what I am feeling. To breathe. To remember that I can handle this. To trust that this moment, too, will pass. To be kinder to myself. To accept what is, because it is happening and there is no way around that. And from a calmer, gentler, wiser, and steadier place, I can ask: What now? What is the next wise thing to do? How can I meet this moment in a way that will cause less suffering and more peace?
This is the practice.
Mindfulness teaches us to dive into life, not escape it. It helps us live more fully in the life we actually have, rather than waiting for some perfect, peaceful, irritation-free version of life to begin. We get better at being human in all of our humanness: the pleasant and unpleasant, the pain and joy, the irritation and ease.
As we often say in the mindfulness world: Suffering = Pain x Resistance.
Pain is part of being human. Flights are missed. Plans change. People disappoint us. Bodies ache. Hearts break. Life does not always unfold the way we hoped. But resistance adds another layer. Our inner argument with reality — This should not be happening. I cannot handle this. Something is wrong. I should not feel this way — adds more suffering to the original pain itself.
With practice, we begin to soften that resistance. We begin to being more open to what is. We learn to trust life. We learn to trust ourselves. And slowly, we begin to see the preciousness of it all — the gift of being awake and alive for this messy, beautiful, imperfect human life – resisting less, embracing more.
We do not meditate to stop being human. We meditate to get better at being human.
❤️,
Cheryl
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