Mindfulness and meditation

Mindfulness and meditation have become big business for tech-savvy entrepreneurs. But can you really unplug and reset while tied to an app on your phone? Companies like Headspace and Insight Timer say yes. But longtime practitioners, philosophers, and scientists aren’t so sure.

When I was 8 or 9, I became preoccupied with death. It wasn’t that I was afraid; I just like to be prepared. Would I know death was coming, like a knock at the door I got up to answer? Or would it be more like change—something I couldn’t perceive until it had already happened? And if it were like change, how would I be able to perceive it if I were already dead?

In other words, who was the “I” in the sentence “I died”?

The idea of death became like one of those Chinese finger traps: the harder I thought about it, the tighter it got on my mind. I went to our rabbi, then a priest, then some energy-healer types. I went to a Unitarian minister named Mitch, who looked for all the world like God, or at least the way God looks in paintings.

Eventually I went to a new-age bookstore in a shopping center a couple of towns over and bought some meditation tapes. (My mother was very supportive.) I’d load them into my boom box at night and close my eyes. I was a chubby kid, new in school, borderline friendless. For some reason, my lips were always chapped. Death was the least of my concerns.

It was during meditation—cross-legged on the carpet, watching my breath, listening to the voice of my guide—that I became aware of a second life humming under the one I was living. It was like electricity, or an aquifer: everywhere, but invisible, or at least easy to lose track of. It didn’t require effort, only attention. Then I had a realization that this—my breath, my body—was my first life, and everything else was just shadowboxing.

As for death, it wasn’t that I found my answer so much as that I became less concerned by the question. It was like sleight of hand: In turning toward the present, I lost sight of the future, which was good, because there wasn’t much I could do about the future until it came anyway.

A few weeks ago, I visited the Santa Monica, California, office of a popular meditation app called Headspace. Launched in 2010 by a former monk and a disaffected advertising executive, the app currently has about 35 million users in 190 countries, more than 1 million of whom pay to subscribe. It is highly visible and rigorously publicized: The ex-monk, Andy Puddicombe, has appeared alongside Ellen and Dr. Oz, and recently led a group meditation on The Tonight Show. (Jimmy Fallon, smiling gently and opening his eyes: “That was fantastic.”) In the course of researching this piece, I reached out to about 50 friends, family members, and friends of friends, many of whom were revealed to be closet meditators, nearly all of them using Headspace. It is hard to think of any monk current or former with better television coverage than Andy Puddicombe, outside maybe the Dalai Lama.

As we walk, my liaison asks if the office were what I expected. I said I wasn’t expecting anything in particular. The truth is that I’m trying to release myself from expectations, or at least remind myself that expectations are just another form of mental weather. The office were exactly what I expected: sleek but cheerful, with big, open spaces offset by brightly colored murals and furniture, like a factory decorated by a child. And in Santa Monica, no less.

Headspace positions itself as accessible and universal, meditation that meets you where you are. My first exposure to the company was about five years ago, when Puddicombe gave a TED Talk describing the benefits of “10 mindful minutes a day.” In avoiding the language of religion, many meditation apps—Headspace included—have instead embraced the language of marketing and self-improvement.

Though Buddhism is never mentioned, per se, the app’s teachings—designed and guided by Puddicombe—are essentially a mosaic of Buddhist ideas from a variety of schools of thought, given a cheerful spin: In a 2015 profile of the company, New Yorker writer Lizzie Widdicombe relayed an anecdote about Puddicombe translating a Buddhist tenet sometimes called “the truth of suffering” as “acceptance,” presumably because the truth of suffering would bum out most people.

Other concepts—the Zen idea of “beginner’s mind,” for example, popularized in the West by the monk Shunryu Suzuki, or the way mindfulness-based stress reduction describes the attendance to one’s physical state as “scanning” the body—are left untouched.

The app’s packs—available to subscribers for anywhere between 13 bucks a month to about $100 a year, or $400 for a “lifetime” subscription—are aimed at existential goals: One offers a guide for mindful eating, another for managing anger, another for college students coping with leaving home. On the app, Puddicombe’s delivery is clear and his language is elemental: One feels they can see the idea standing naked behind his words. And like a lot of good teachers, he has an unusual gift for framing his understandings as your epiphany: not so much a superior as a friend on the path.

Many of the sessions are introduced in the app by brief animations designed either to present a technique (body scanning, noting) or provide visual representations for emotional metaphors: anger as a storm, the calm mind like a blue sky. Simple, colorful, and inhabited by a series of anthropomorphic little creatures, the animations feel designed both to disperse the air of austerity surrounding meditation and, paradoxically, make it feel down to earth. In an email sent after my visit, Headspace’s editorial director for sleep, William Fowler, described the company’s broader visual identity—conceived of by designers Anna Charity and Chris Markland—as a reaction to images of “people sitting with their legs crossed, as though they were in perfect harmony with their minds.” The company made at least some attempts at an anthropocentric design: During my visit, I passed a framed drawing of what looked sort of like a person from a bathroom sign, sitting in a chair with things swirling inside their head—an early prototype. In essence, Headspace has provided meditation with a brand.

A 2016 blog post by Puddicombe on the Headspace site entitled “How to meditate in ten minutes” begins, “If you’ve decided to give meditation a shot, congratulations! You’ve also decided to improve your sleep, lower your blood pressure, increase your marital harmony and reduce your stress.” Puddicombe’s 10-minutes-a-day claim speaks to the hilariously modern expectation that self-transformation be fast, friendly, and neat. It also fits with the company’s broader focus on metrics and results. As with mindfulness meditation generally, the science surrounding Headspace serves the dual purpose of making meditation seem worth one’s time and dispelling the worry that one is being indoctrinated. In other words, the question is less about faith, which is unseen, and science, which—as those with faith in science believe—sees all.

Or, as the company’s chief science officer, Megan Jones Bell, puts it, the research is there “for people who need science as a belief point.” Jones Bell joined the company in March 2017. For her, meditation is in part a subset of mental health, and the people who seek out Headspace are looking for ways to nurse internal wounds. “Their motivation to change something or learn something new is coming from a place of ‘I’m not OK, and I need help,’” she says.

The distinction is important: Whereas some come to meditation as a way of reckoning with the incredible gifts existence has already given them, others come because they want to see what else is in the bag. This sort of rhetoric only gets ramped up in reference to meditation as a performance booster. For example, the promise that meditation will make you more effective at work seems to have a lot more salience and motivational charge than the promise that meditation will just make work feel a little less important overall.

In this rubric, science becomes a kind of cookie for the practice of meditation. “It’s too hard to ask someone who’s never taken the time to close their eyes and look inside themselves to do that,” Jones Bell says. Knowing meditation is good for them—in the way science circumscribes “good”—gets them to the table.

Headspace is particularly bullish on research. Since its inception, the company has conducted more than 60 studies in conjunction with partners in the medical and academic community, including the National Health Service. Jones Bell describes general findings—improved focus, decreased aggression, increased compassion—as “consistent with the general meditation research but specific to our product.” With Headspace, one always senses the bottom line looming somewhere.

More recently, the company has begun the daunting and implicative project of securing FDA approval of a Headspace prescription meditation app, such that it could be integrated into mainstream health care by, say, increasing quality of life for cancer patients—something that meditation generally has already been found to do. The notion isn’t just that meditation would be prescribed alongside conventional medicine, but that the meditation prescribed would be offered by Headspace.

Before leaving, I walk to the Lookout, an amphitheater near the coffee station where the company hosts group meditations. The meditations are twice daily, once around 10 a.m. and once mid-afternoon. Attendance is open but not mandatory. On the morning I visit, about 50 people are scattered across the risers, bathed in light from clerestory windows above. We take our seats and wait.

After a brief good-morning, the room falls quiet, and Puddicombe’s voice booms. (For group sessions, the company uses a rotating, stand-alone meditation called Everyday Headspace.) We focus and settle and breathe our deep, invocatory breaths. We turn toward our private country.

Listening to Puddicombe’s voice in that clean, bright room, it was hard not to feel that I was being addressed by my overlords. Benevolent overlords, but overlords nevertheless.

That meditation and mindfulness have entered the repertoire of global capitalism isn’t surprising: In the face of stagnant wages and an ever-deteriorating boundary between work and whatever we do outside it, why not shift the responsibility of finding peace to the individual? Put another way: Next time work makes you feel less than human, should you gently speak truth to power, or should you use mindfulness to self-regulate and maintain function in an oppressive system? And should you choose to self-regulate, are you tacitly thanking the oppressive system for giving you the tools of self-regulation to begin with? Furthermore, how much of this experience—this process of spelunking into my mind—should be comfortable and brightly colored? How much should feel good?

One of the sections of the Satipatthana Sutta, a foundational discourse of Theravada Buddhism, encourages the meditator to progress from an observation of the breath to considering the body as a butcher might consider a freshly slaughtered cow. We are dead. From here we see the bloat and the ooze, writhing worms and wild dogs. We are fleshless and smeared with blood, then a pile of bones, bleaching, rotting, crumbling—ashes to ashes. But even when Puddicombe talks about “difficult emotions” through the app, I am never far from the deathless animated cuties of Headspace’s HQ. I could use a cup of coffee, I think. I bet the coffee here is pretty good. I note the experience as thinking—“noting” being a meditative technique—and restore myself to the moment.

“And with the next breath,” Puddicombe says, “close your eyes.”

The supposition that people need science to explain the benefits of quiet contemplation has been following meditation around for about 50 years. In 1965, a molecular biology student at MIT named Jon Kabat-Zinn attended a lecture by the Zen priest Philip Kapleau. Kapleau, an American who worked as a court reporter before relinquishing his life to Zen (or maybe just reclaiming his life through it), had become an ambassador for Buddhism in the West; in 1966, he published The Three Pillars of Zen, a semi-fictional diary of an “American ex-businessman” named “P.K.” that more or less established our cultural archetype of the white-collar searcher. (Sample entry: “September 3, 1953: Quit business, sold apartment furniture and car. … Friends’ unanimous judgment: “You’re mad throwing up ten thousand a year for pie in the sky!” … Maybe. Or maybe they’re the mad ones, piling up possessions and ulcers and heart disease.”)

That P.K.—and Kapleau himself—had strong bourgeois credentials was essential: People reading The New York Times would sooner trust someone who had worked at the International Military Tribunal than Jack Kerouac or someone named Nancy who just thought India was really far-out. Or, you know, a monk from Southeast Asia.

Kabat-Zinn, the graduate student, went on to develop a program he called mindfulness-based stress reduction, which at first presented meditation as a pain-management strategy for hospital patients—another tool in a bin of many. Writing in his 2005 book Coming to Our Senses, he remembers lying on the floor of the faculty conference room conducting a group body scan, a technique in which participants shift their attention, part by part, through the body in order to jostle awareness both of our physical self and how that physical self connects to our emotional one—the literal pain in the neck that indicates the metaphorical one, for example. At some point, the chief of surgery opened the door, trailed by about 30 people in white lab coats. “Are these our patients?” the chief of surgery asked. “Yes,” Kabat-Zinn said. The surgeons went nextdoor.

Kabat-Zinn was careful to strip as much religion out of MBSR as possible so as to be able to navigate his ideas around cultural stereotypes and into the mainstream. “From the beginning of MBSR,” he wrote in 2011, “I bent over backward to structure it and find ways to speak about it that avoided as much as possible the risk of it being seen as Buddhist, ‘New Age,’ ‘Eastern Mysticism,’ or just plain ‘flakey.’”

Context may be helpful here. For most of history, the only people who practiced meditation were monks. Writing in the introduction to the anthology Meditation, Buddhism and Science, professors David L. McMahan and Erik Braun traced the inception of meditation as a popular practice to a single day in 1883, when Burmese monk Ledi Sayadaw watched as his monastery—and all work contained therein—burned to the ground.

At the time, Sayadaw didn’t even really meditate; it was more of a theoretical crowbar used to pry into ideas—something he thought with, but didn’t actually practice. This was in Mandalay; the monks who did meditate were often in the country, already out of earshot of the city’s existential noise. Burma was in a period of massive unrest; within a couple of years, Thibaw, the final Burmese king, would abdicate the throne and take a steamer down the Irrawaddy River, ceding the country to British occupation.

Awakened to the possibility that the destruction of Buddhism itself might’ve been only a few fires away, Sayadaw went into the forest and started meditating in earnest. At the dawn of the 20th century, he refashioned himself as a public figure, an ambassador for Buddhism determined to spread the practice of meditation to the people, campaign as much about historical preservation as religious ethics. Sayadaw became revered; one British official observed that women would lay down and spread out their hair like carpets when he walked.

In other words, within the geologically brief span of about 80 years, meditation transitioned from an obscure pursuit of monks in the Burmese woods to something a guy named Jon might teach you on the floor of a Massachusetts hospital.

Given that Kabat-Zinn was on some level trying to Trojan-horse tenets of Buddhist introspection into a Christian culture passionately at war with silence, he did a solid job: As of 2015, the Journal of American Medicine noted that the proportion of medical schools offering some kind of mindfulness training was about 80 percent.

A research scientist and director of a lab at the Center of Mind and Brain at the University of California–Davis, neuroscientist Cliff Saron has been probing the intersection of meditation and clinical science for as long as such an intersection has existed. The image of people in lab coats fastening pasta strainers to monks’ heads to scan brain activity—that’s Saron in the early 1990s. And so on.

I want to volley with Saron a rhetorical question he first posed in a June roundtable for Mindful magazine: “Why do we need empirical validation for meditative experience, anyway? When it comes to the benefits of stopping and pausing, why can’t common sense prevail?”

Within two minutes of calling me, after I drop off my sons at school, Saron asks how close I’ve come to death. Not too close, I say. One of my best friends died when I was in high school, and I lost two grandparents in a fire, but everything else has been peripheral.

“Your parents are still alive,” he says.

“Yeah,” I say.

“So you haven’t, in a sustained way, had to deal with incipient loss, or to ride the waves.”

“I guess not, no.”

“And you’ve been graced with the bend in the fabric of the universe that having a child is.”


“This is the level I care about with respect to meditation.”

Saron concedes that none of this makes for good bar conversation, which is where headlines like Bloomberg’s “To Make a Killing on Wall Street, Start Meditating” come in. Saron’s point isn’t that science is used to validate meditation as a secular pursuit, but that the science itself is often shaky and the media coverage of it even worse. (There seems to be a quiet correlation between the two: The more preliminary or insufficient the study, the more excitable the headlines.) Or, as Saron puts it, “We live in a culture that doesn’t treat the data as sacred, but often in convenient contexts bows down to the authority of the scientist.”

The conversation goes deeply into the weeds. We discuss the exhausting conditions of late capitalism and the movie Her (we are fans). We discuss apophatic theologies (those that define god through absences and negation) and cataphatic ones (religions that say what god is). We discuss the longevity and philosophy of the luxury pen company Montblanc. Saron apologizes for the digressions, then admits he is digressing on purpose. I tell him it’s fine because I’m usually wrong about what’s important anyway.

As for the meditation apps, Saron harbors a muted skepticism. “It’s a broadcast medium,” he says. “Things happen to people when they’re in relationships with other people, and those things can’t be simulated fully. Here the map and the territory may really diverge, because the information transfer is so much thicker in life.” (Fans may note that this is where we started talking about Her.)

One of Saron’s formative teachers, Joseph Goldstein, now teaches meditation through 10% Happier, an app launched in part by ABC anchor Dan Harris. “I kind of decried seeing Joseph on the app,” Saron says. Then Saron’s son asked him how he knew there wasn’t some 20-something sitting in front of their phone having as profound an experience with Goldstein’s teachings as Saron himself did four decades earlier.

Right, how would he? Still, I sense Saron acknowledges his son’s point primarily as an intellectual exercise. Practicing five, 10 minutes a day with your phone (what he calls “psychological Duolingo”), well—you get out what you put in. “They won’t stay at the table if they don’t find meaning,” he says.

He remembers Headspace approaching him at some point about making a video, but he declined. “What I have to say isn’t so much based on promoting meditation through scientific evidence,” he stresses. “I need to articulate in a nuanced way the limits of our work.”

The irony of seeking liberation through a device people are tethered to is too basic to dwell on, not to mention a little beside the point. (Just because you can kill someone with a brick doesn’t mean we should stop building brick houses.) The phones aren’t going away; the only thing we can control is our relationship to them.

Saron suggests I talk to a neuroscientist named Adam Gazzaley. A professor of neurology, physiology, and psychiatry at University of California, San Francisco, Gazzaley is particularly interested in attention: how it works, how it developed, how it responds to the giant slot machine we’ve built around it.

In 2016, Gazzaley coauthored a book with psychologist Larry D. Rosen called The Distracted Mind. Part evolutionary history, part damage report, the book lays out in great detail what I suspect most people already fear: Attention is fragile; technology is making us anxious and bored; multitasking is a fiction we invented to insulate us from the truth that that isn’t how brains work. (Or, as the book puts it, “We convince ourselves that we can handle it.”)

Gazzaley isn’t a doomsayer, though he has been excitedly mistaken for one. He recently wrote an essay for Medium called “The Cognition Crisis”, for which he received a lot of feedback to the tune of “right on” by readers who appear to have missed his point that technology is a force for good.

For Gazzaley, a phone is just a tool and meditation a stay against the flood. “I see a lot of meditation practices, especially the traditional ancient Buddhist ones, as being exercises in attention,” he says. Neuroscientifically speaking, practicing focus in the way meditation does strengthens both selective attention (basically, your ability to keep your eye on the metaphorical ball) and metacognition (your ability to recognize when your eyes have left it).

One of the book’s foundational claims is that our drive to forage for food has evolved into a drive to forage for information. New information produces rewards, so we come to seek it habitually, even if it interferes with whatever goal we have at hand. What emerges is a kind of frictionless state, where you end up spending 12 minutes looking for keys that are already in your hand or typing “nytimes.com” into your URL bar only to discover you are already on the website for The New York Times. In other words, we are, on some level, evolutionarily geared against meditation.

I ask Gazzaley if sustained attention could ever produce its own reward. For example, maybe I’d enjoy making my sons’ lunches in the morning a little more if I wasn’t simultaneously trying to digest a podcast, answer emails, and figure out why the tree people haven’t come to take out the Rhus lancea stump in the yard, because that thing is already growing new chutes, and it’s making me nervous.

Gazzaley says that the data is minimal, but he harbors a similar hunch. He compares it to surfing and marathon running—the flow state. “The sustained activity of just running without any change in the information sphere around you—it’s pretty painful and unrewarding,” he says. “But this somehow shifts over time. There’s positive feedback in hormones.”

At the very least, attention brings us closer to the experience of the thing itself. Or, as Gazzaley and Rosen put it, “Those flowers you decide to pay attention to actually do look much redder to you and smell much sweeter than the ones you chose to ignore.”

If Headspace is uniform and top-down, the app Insight Timer is its opposite: a sort of clearinghouse for meditation of all stripes run by a network of about 1,500 teachers, most of them independent and unaffiliated with the app itself. (It can also function as a nice egg timer with skeuomorphic bells for those who like to ride alone.)

The design is simple and anonymous, with imagery—mountains, palm trees—borrowed from the paradises of desktop backgrounds and stock photography. The company doesn’t advertise or run clinical trials, and the balance of its meditations are free. Religion is featured but not mandatory, and not limited to Buddhism: Among the app’s 12,000 guided meditations are explorations of Sufism, Christianity, and Kabbalah. Using Headspace, one can easily feel that you and Andy Puddicombe are the only people in the universe. Using Insight Timer, which greets you with a large map charting everyone currently meditating on the app (as well as a tally of how many people have meditated today and a ticker of how many are meditating at that very moment), it can be impossible to feel alone. The first few times I use it, it reminds me of wandering into a good used bookstore: You’ll probably find what you want eventually, but you’re going to get lost in some weird stuff along the way.

The app was developed by a software developer named Brad Fullmer but is currently run by a man named Christopher Plowman. A software entrepreneur who made his nut developing a discount ticket-selling site called Tix, Plowman now lives in Bali, where, on a recent morning, he had just come in from seeing a cobra in his yard.

It is hard not to appreciate Plowman’s candor. On some widely trafficked social media platforms: “Let me choose my language carefully: I don’t like them.” (Later, he clarifies: “They peddle misery.”) On advertising, or lack thereof: “Stillness is the greatest magnet.” On his own company, which he seems to nurture with the loose hand of a parent consigned to the reality that one can give life but never control it: “It’s a very fragile idea, that you can give away meditation to everyone on earth while building a sustainable, profitable company.” Talking to him, I get the sense that he’s as curious about the future of Insight Timer as anyone.

Plowman sees his mission simply: “We’re trying to develop a platform to give meditation away for free to everyone on the planet.” Though Plowman says the company has always been lucky enough to depend on venture capital and recently raised enough to get them through the next couple of years, it has started offering optional courses for rental or purchase; you can also now “subscribe” to Insight Timer, making it easier to sync and use offline. The company has also made itself open to donations.

Plowman is proud of the company’s accomplishments, and unafraid to quantify them in a frankly competitive tone I find refreshing. “More time is spent meditating on Insight Timer than all other apps,” he says. When I speak to him at the end of August, he says that the app’s basic Learning to Meditate course had been rented or purchased by 200,000 people in the previous six weeks, and that the company still grows at a rate of 60,000 to 70,000 users a week. (As I write this, at 4:44 Pacific Time on Friday, September 14, 420,734 people are meditating.)

Plowman feels strongly about retaining the spiritual element of meditation, and, in an aside whose canniness I register only later, he notes that one good reason to excise spirituality is to better position your product for schools and institutions. In the course of charting user data and trying to discern exactly what Insight Timer actually is, Plowman has noticed that “People who come in with preferences set to secular and highly scientific teachings start to meander.”

Browsing the app’s most popular meditations, one gets a glimpse at the aggregate dreams and worries of people across the world. At the time of writing, six of the top 10 meditations on Insight Timer are designed to help people to go to sleep. Of those six, five are guided by women. The single most popular meditation, Jennifer Piercy’s Yoga Nidra for Sleep, has been played 4.4 million times. It is, in effect, the sound of someone quietly saying beautiful and encouraging things to you while you lay in bed. Many of the reviews for it note that the user didn’t make it to the end. In the period between drafting and editing this piece, I notice that both 10% Happier and Headspace have majorly stepped up their sleep-related offerings. This catches in my heart: How can we possibly handle the gift of being awake if we struggle so intensely just to get to bed?

Cliff Saron’s old teacher, Joseph Goldstein is a founder of the Insight Meditation Society and one of the pioneering ambassadors of vipassana meditation in the West. He’s also a prominent voice on 10% Happier.

Dan Harris adopted meditation around 2004 after having a panic attack while doing a segment on cholesterol medication for Good Morning America. (Looking back at the segment, you can sense something is wrong, but it’s no Boom Goes the Dynamite.)

The app is pitched as “meditation for fidgety skeptics,” with a zeal that can sometimes verge on self-loathing. Though 10% Happier is not the only app guilty of this, the constant refrain that meditation is totally normal and not weird only makes me wonder what these people are so ashamed of. But I also find it clear and easy, and I enjoy Goldstein’s lessons, many of which are delivered in conversation with Harris himself.

Goldstein wasn’t bothered by the app thing. “There were concerns that it wasn’t too Buddhist, or even Buddhist at all,” he says. “But from my perspective, the teachings are the same.”

This bears out: Reading Goldstein’s writing—2002’s One Dharma, for example—one encounters the same ideas you hear on the app, just with broader contexts and different names. And for those inspired to question whether such a rebrand constitutes unethical misuse, consider what Christians have done with Jesus. Would it help you to know, for example, that the Dalai Lama has his own app? Or that he wrote in his 2005 book, The Universe in a Single Atom, that “If scientific analysis were conclusively to demonstrate certain claims in Buddhism to be false, then we must accept the findings of science and abandon those claims.” Buddhist of Buddhists, riding the wave.

Anyway, Goldstein meets a lot of people on meditation retreats who came because of the app, so it must be making some positive kind of wave. “I guess if I had a concern,” he says, “it would be that it would be unfortunate if people thought what was presented in a secular context expressed the full potential of mindfulness from the Buddhist perspective.” In other words, breadth wins.

Before leaving, I tell Goldstein I need him to help me resolve a question I’ve been chewing on. In his own teachings, he talks about “breathing and knowing one is breathing.” And I think I get that. But how do I square that with what Korean Zen teacher Seung Sahn and others calls “the don’t-know mind”?

Part of it is just a linguistic glitch, he says—the word “knowing” already means dozens of things in English, let alone how many resonances similar words might have in Pali, or Korean, or Chinese. Plus, it’s just one of those things: Knowing something but also not-knowing it, not trapping it. I tell Goldstein I think I knew that. But talking about it has only made it weird. I think I can hear Goldstein laugh.

My own return to meditation started about six months ago. Over the past few years, I got married, bought a house, and became the father of two sons. But I quickly became barnacled. Life, or at least life as I had loved it—freedom, openness, and quiet connection—was suddenly subject to heavy planning, when available at all. Even my joys felt veiled by a heavy sheet of plastic: I saw the shapes, but they were abstract, hard to parse. Not only did I stay on top of my responsibilities (cooking, cleaning, tending, parenting), I became combustible for them. There were weeks when our marriage was basically a large chore wheel. I felt irritable and remote. Talking to a couple of friends on a much-needed break, I said the whole thing felt like being erased.

I think of a quote I like about the teaching style of the first woman sanctioned to teach Soto Zen in the West, Houn Jiyu-Kennett: “Not to lighten the load of a disciple, but to make the load so heavy that he or she would put it down.”

So, is it “working”? To invoke the refrain of Grecian skeptics, epokhe—I can’t say for sure what I should find convincing and what I shouldn’t. Music sounds better, and I think my timing has improved comedically, and I have come to see my wife and children as bulbs in a great chandelier: When one light dims, so dims the whole room.

But I’ve also shifted my exercise routine back to the Y, which I love (shout-out Lohse Family YMCA), and my younger son is finally sleeping through the night.

One thing I can say for sure is that when a stranger I met at a bar asked why I never played the viola anymore—an instrument I played passionately throughout my youth before quitting during my early 20s—I said “I don’t know,” then settled my tab, went home, and, for the first time in several years, played the viola.

There’s a good story recounted in the book One Bird, One Stone that goes like this: A Chinese monk moves to a small cabin in rural Tennessee. Next to the cabin, there’s a giant dead oak tree. One day, a neighbor comes by to warn the monk that the tree could fall on his roof if the monk doesn’t cut it down. The monk buys a hatchet and spends several hours each morning chopping away at the base of the tree. Neighbors come by offering chainsaws and power tools, but the monk declines. He becomes a kind of neighborhood spectacle: the old Chinese guy with the hatchet.

Eventually, the tree falls. So the cabin is spared, but the monk still has a giant dead tree in his yard. When the neighbors ask him what he’s going to do next, the monk turns to them as though the question doesn’t need answering and says, “make firewood.”

Later, the monk explains that this was how he’d taught meditation: You chop and chop and chop and “one day, an enormous tree falls.”

And while I appreciate the story’s climactic overtones and the zigzag way the monk lands the “firewood” punch line, I suspect the lesson—if one could frame it as such—would be to forget the tree and disappear quietly into the chopping.

Instead of Punishment, This School Teaches Mindfulness and Yoga — With Stunning Results

Back in the 70s, during my grammar school years, I vividly remember a disturbing incident. I was in the school office when I heard the male principal screaming at a student behind a closed door. I don’t know what the student had done to be on the receiving end of such a rant, but I do remember my heart racing and a feeling of terror that the anger would somehow be turned toward me. Needless to say, I high-tailed it out of that office as quickly as possible, relieved to have escaped. The thing is, this scenario was considered utterly ‘normal’. Thankfully, corporeal punishment wasn’t practiced in my school, which would have been far more terrifying.

Kids Yoga







Unfortunately, many students can relate to this story today. Corporeal punishment is alive and well in 19 states throughout America, with many schools resorting to increasingly harsh measures to deal with unruly students. But studies have shown, time and again, that verbal and physical punishment simply don’t work — both actually cause more behavioral problems in the long-run. There has to be a better way — and a Baltimore-based organization thinks it’s found the answer: empowering communities and schools through yoga, mindfulness and self-care practices.

Changing Young Lives for the Better with Mindfulness Practices

“Imagine this… instead of sending your children to their room kicking and screaming, taking away their iPad for a week, or giving them a time-out in the corner, you ask them to spend a few minutes alone to meditate and work through the anger, frustration, stress, or other emotions causing them to act out.

“This new form of discipline is now a huge success at several schools, and those schools are seeing some major changes among students.”

~ Sandi Schwartz in “Can Teaching Kids Mindfulness Replace Discipline?

Robert W. Coleman Elementary School in Baltimore, United States, doesn’t have a detention room or an active punishment policy for disruptive kids. Instead, there is a Mindful Moment room, where students are encouraged to participate breathing practices or meditation to “calm down and re-center.” They are also given the opportunity to talk through what happened with specially trained aides.

Created in partnership with the Holistic Life Foundation, a local nonprofit organization that focuses on nurturing wellness of children and adults in underserved communities, the Mindful Moment room has significantly helped reduce the rate of suspensions — with exactly zero in 2015, and none so far this year. For over ten years, the foundation has also run the Holistic Me program, which offers after-school mindfulness and yoga classes for kids from pre-kindergarten through the fifth grade.

The Mindful Moment room is filled with lamps, plush pillows and bean bags — a far cry from the usual bleak, windowless detention rooms of the past. Essentially, it’s a space where students are safe and supported as they learn deep breathing exercises, meditation and mindfulness techniques.

“It’s amazing,” said Kirk Philips, the Holistic Me coordinator at Robert W. Coleman. “You wouldn’t think that little kids would meditate in silence. And they do.” [source]

Not only are suspensions now nonexistent, but students themselves are recognizing the benefits of the program.

“Before a big exam, one 5th grader talks of using breathing techniques: ”I took deep breaths to stay calm and just finish the test. When everybody around you is making a lot of noises just trying to tune them out… and be yourself, do your breathing.” [source]


Another student used the exercises he learned through the school program when he was angry at home.

“This morning I got mad at my Dad, but then I remembered to breathe and then I didn’t shout.” [source]

Andres Gonzales, co-founder of Holistic Life Foundation, adds:

“We’ve had parents tell us, ‘I came home the other day stressed out, and my daughter said, “Hey, Mom, you need to sit down. I need to teach you how to breathe”.’ [source]

The foundation also tutors and mentors the kids, along with educating them about the environment. Students are involved in cleaning up nearby parks, creating gardens and visiting local farms. They also train kids to help run yoga sessions as co-teachers.

Whichever way we look at these programs of mindfulness, yoga and empowerment, they’re nothing less than a win-win — for the students, school and community as a whole.

How Forest Bathing Gave Me A Whole New Perspective On the Idea of “Natural Healing”

A foray into the world of talking to trees helped me become not just more mindful, but more adventurous.

“Think of a question you have about your life. Now find a tree and place your hands on the bark. Feel the tree. Listen to the tree. Don’t leave until you have your answer.”

This was a literal thing that was said to me during my first “forest bath”—a mindfulness-based hike I was hoping wouldn’t be too hippie-dippy. Spoiler alert: it was. Rather than some profound pearl of wisdom from Mother Nature herself, all I could hear was the sound of my own voice inside my head saying, What the hell are you doing here? Do you think they’ll notice if you leave?

As a health and wellness journalist, I like cold, hard, clinical science. I abstain from any activity involving incense, I have absolutely zero desire to try Ayahuasca. But I’m also curious, and I’m a sucker for a good hike, which is how I ended up non-ironically hugging a tree with 10 strangers.

“Forest bathing” may sound like new age-y nonsense, but the core philosophy is really about how being outdoors can facilitate calming of the mind and body.

A forest bath, I’d learned after I’d RSVP’d to a friend’s event, involves no literal bathing. (Thank god, since the idea of stripping down like a wood nymph would have crossed way too many lines for me. To say nothing of the splinters!) Called shinrin-yoku in Japan where the practice was first created, forest bathing is simply the practice of mindfully walking through a natural space—touching the bark on the trees, inhaling the cool mossy scent of the dirt, feeling the splashes of sunlight peeking through the leaves and falling on your skin. It’s a literal manifestation of stopping to smell the roses.

“Mindfulness in nature, or forest bathing, provides an opportunity to calm the mind and body, while also being supported by nature,” Nina Smiley, Ph.D., director of mindfulness programing at the postcard-worthy Mohonk Mountain House in upstate New York, and author of Mindfulness in Nature, told me much later.

In theory, it sounded lovely. In practice, it meant I was talking to trees. I was instructed to “place” all my anxieties on a leaf and then cast it away, a little ship of worries now owned by the breeze. I munched on vegan chocolate bark made with flowers foraged from the trail. I worried increasingly about my relationship to reality with every step.

After we’d sat in a circle in a meadow reflecting on Mother Nature’s messages and closed the experience mindfully, I high-tailed it to find the nearest Uber, pizza, and glass of wine. My dip into the world of forest bathing had brought me way the hell out of my comfort zone.

The transformation of my mood after forest bathing was not a single epiphany so much as a slow, natural healing process that enhanced my ability to be mindful in otherwise chaotic situations.


But in the days following, I started noticing some odd after-bath effects: a calmer response to emails that would have normally thrown me into a tailspin of anxiety, an awareness of the dozens of shades of green in the tree outside my window, a sense of how the air in San Francisco where I live always smells marine and deliciously briney, even in its more urban center.

Then there was a slowly awakening sense of curiosity in new things, even a desire for adventure. One of the main themes of the bath was focusing on the idea that nature is a powerful and pervasive force—no matter what’s going on in our busy, social media-saturated lives, Mama Nature will always have our backs. We meditated on being empowered by that—taking more risks and following our inner compasses. Coincidentally or not, I found myself doing more of that in the weeks after the forest bath, saying yes to more things out of my comfort zone and ditching some of the narrow-minded hang ups that had kept me from trying new things (like any restaurant that put flowers on the menu, the meditation class at my yoga studio, or the makeup counter at Whole Foods).

When I stopped to reflect several weeks later, I realized my new age-y encounter with the wood nymphs had actually made a pretty significant mark.

Though it freaked me out, I wanted more. So I scheduled a hike with Smiley—a true expert in forest bathing—on her turf at Mohonk just before peak foliage season (picture hiking trails with views so good you can almost see all the way to Manhattan and a crystal clear lake that looks like it was taken from a Wes Anderson film) to ask her about how a skeptic like me could be more open-minded about adopting some of the tenets of forest bathing.

“It has long been known that nature nurtures,” she told me. “The interest in forest bathing speaks to the desire for ways to calm, center, and strengthen the body, mind, and spirit. Minds are saturated with information overload, and many feel the need to be constantly multi-tasking and digitally connected, creating an addiction to busyness.” Guilty.

With an expert guide, I hit the trail with a different set of priorities (and a formal request to skip any hugging of and/or talking to trees), namely to slow down and use all of my senses to really take in each moment rather than focus on getting a workout or a view, like I normally would on a hike. “The vibe of forest bathing is very different,” Smiley says. “Once you’re outdoors, forest bathing is only a mindful breath away. Once you understand how to do this—and how it feels to calm the body and clear the mind—you can do this walking down a city street, appreciating nature in the middle of an urban setting.”

It turns out that forest bathing doesn’t actually require a forest at all, just an outdoor space where I can be fully present.

Three hours later, I was stepping off a bus in midtown Manhattan at rush hour—a place I’d usually hug a thousand trees to avoid. Normally, I’d grab a cab and get the f**k out, but in the spirit of a little mindful adventure, I decided to walk through the heart of the city and practice some of what Smiley was preaching. I was surprised to find there’s a shocking number of flowers in Times Square—on an early fall night, with the right mindset, it’s almost a lovely stroll.

At first, my hang up with forest bathing was the new age-y nature of the idea—and to be clear, I’m still skeptical about the whole getting answers from trees thing. But the surprising sense of being more open-minded and adventurous about integrating natural healing into my wellness routine and—at the risk of sounding too hippie-dippy—my life, made me a convert. “Bringing the principles of forest bathing into everyday life means understanding that being fully present in the moment is a powerful way to enhance well-being,” Smiley says. If that means opening my eyes and mind wide enough to find a moment of serenity even in the concrete jungle, I’m willing to at least try to see the forest for the trees.

10 Easy Ways You Can Practice Mindfulness Every Day

Living mindfully is one of the very best ways that you can transform your life.  When people think about meditation they think about sitting in lotus pose and clearing your mind for extended periods of time.   Mindfulness is awesome because it is about becoming fully present in this moment and becoming fully aware of your senses, thoughts, and emotions.

One of the most incredible parts of this practice is that you can make it a part of nearly everything you do in a normal day.  When you fully become present you tap into what appears to others as super powers.  You don’t miss the subtle happenings around you and can better anticipate future events.

This hyper awareness will not only help you better respond to your surroundings, but it helps you become fully in tune with your body, emotions, feelings, thoughts and spiritual intuitional as well.

I have to tell you that these practices have completely changed my life, but I don’t want you to get caught up in what it has done for me personally, instead I want you to experience it yourself and create your own stories of transformational change.

1. Connecting Completely with Your Senses

The first step to really tap into mindfulness is to completely connect with your physical senses.  Studies have shown that this is the easier when you are doing something repetitive or familiar such as washing the dishes, folding your laundry or even playing a video game.

via pinimg.com

Example: When washing the dishes become present enough that you smell the soap in the air, feel the warm water, hear the water dripping into the sink, see the unique pattern of the soap on the surface of the water.

As you become fully anchored in your senses you will start noticing more than you ever did before.  Colors will become more vivid, food will smell and taste more rich, and the texture of something as simple as clothing will become something you are tuned into.

“According to the study conducted with 51 students, they found that those who used the mindfulness technique reported a 27% decrease in nervousness. They also experienced an increase in mental inspiration by 25%.” -Fitlifetv

2. Observe your breathing

Most of us are breathing all the time.  With that being said, every time you take a breath you can use it to recenter and observe.  Feel every sensation of your breathing and if thoughts or emotions float your way then observe them without engaging with them.  They are there, you respect their space and continue to breathe.

Most of us don’t think about how sacred and powerful breathing is unless it has been taken away.  Suffering from choking or asthma shouldn’t be the only reason to be in complete awe at the incredible exchange of life-giving molecules that each breath contains.  We are in constant communion with nature, with every breath.

3 Eating mindfully

Too often with eating the first bite fills us with pleasure and then every bite after that is chasing that initial feeling.  We are in a society that eats unhealthy and often ends up overeating as well.  When you slow down and feel each bite both physically and emotionally, meals become more about the long term effects than the short term pleasure.

During and after a meal ask yourself how you feel.  Did that meal leave you balanced, happy and energized or do you feel heavy, slowed down and negative?  Mindful eating can help you become more aware of how food affects us and will help us gain more control over the fuel we put into ourselves.

You may notice right away with healthy eating that your mind, body and spirit feel lighter and more aware.

4. Walking mindfully
via visualizeus.com
via visualizeus.com

Motion is wonderful for mindfulness meditation.  Every new step can be an adventure as you dive deep into your senses and feel the wind at your back.  This is a great way to observe your thoughts and emotions, almost as a third party and understand them from a higher level.

When I have used walking as a meditation I am always honored to think that the earth is there to catch me with every step.  We own a lot to our mother earth and it is through the grounded steps of mindful walking that we can more easily remember her.

5. Pause between actions

When something happens such as you hear the buzz of your phone you need not rush to it.  Instead try mindfully observing the pauses between tasks.  When your nose itches observe the itch, observe the desire to scratch the itch.  Such a silly thing desire is.  It is neither bad nor good, it just is.  How curious.

Use these pauses to slow down, recenter, mindfully and consciously move from task to task instead of getting whisked away by the business of life. Pausing can take but a second.  No one needs to notice that you are doing it.  Just breathe and observe why you are about to do that next thing.

This practice specifically will help you to think before you react, breathe before you speak, and recenter before you act.  This can be priceless when dealing with difficult situations.

6. Listen wholeheartedly
The girl and wolf by maxim-b
The girl and wolf by maxim-b

When you are listening to someone do not listen with the intent to reply.  Instead, slow your mind and just absorb what they are saying.  Listen to their words, their tone, their body language, what is going on around you and what your feelings are saying.  This is a great time to keep your thoughts silent.

When you are taking in new information, it is much easier to quiet the mind.  Some people can turn their thoughts off like a switch but for people like me who seem to constantly have their mind going a million miles a minute instead try slowing them down.  Literally think in slow motion and put all of your focus on the person or situation you are connecting with.

This technique isn’t just for speech.  Go to a park or out in nature and listen with your eyes, ears, nose, and touch.  Fully experience the world through your senses.  Smell the earth, touch a tree, and listen to the birds sing.  Animals have some of the most incredible reflexes because for the most part they are fully present.  Learn from their example.

7. Observe your thoughts and emotions

It is important for us to learn how to tell the difference between our emotions and our feelings. When you are grounded and present with mindfulness it is much easier to tell the difference.  Emotions are chemical based and often linked to hormones.  They are more closely associated with the three lower chakras and are about anger, over excitement, fear, rejection, pride, urges, power, lack, and control.

Feelings, on the other hand, are from a more neutral space.  This is where your souls speaks to you.  This is where your intuition, gut feelings, and calm observation pay off.  You will not be fooled by others when you are trusting your feelings.  Calm balanced neutrality is key for guiding the decisions of your life.

Don’t make decisions when you are sad, don’t speak when you are angry, and don’t make promises when you are excited.

It is also important to realize that you are not always your thoughts.  Just because a thought goes through your mind doesn’t mean you are a good or bad person.  The thoughts you engage with the most trickle down into words and actions so it is good to know which parts of the thought realm you truly wish to entertain within your mind.

8. Get lost in the flow of doing things you love

Following your greatest joy may land you in places or with projects that completely sweep you away.  The flow is so strong that you lose all sense of time and enter what ancient greeks called kairos time (gods time).  Sometimes for people this is art, music or dancing.  For others it’s inventing, reading, healing, writing or connecting with other souls.

It’s ok to go with this flow, to trust your instincts and to mindfully follow what your heart desires.

9. Meditate daily
via bikehike.com

Though all of these activities can be a form of meditation there is a lot of power in choosing to sit in meditation every day.  You give yourself that moment to observe, to breathe and to just be.  How often do we allow ourselves to have a true break at least mentally?  Probably not often enough.  Even if it is just ten minutes give yourself some time to breathe, recenter, connect with yourself and be present.

10. Travel or mix up your routine

Changing up your routine and traveling to new places will help you better prepare for life.  Reality is continuously changing, shifting and molding into new experiences.  The quicker we can fully accept change the sooner our soul can be at peace and we can return to the present moment.

Even if the present moment is uncomfortable I have found that the quickest way to find peace is to fully accept it and be present with it.  There are powerful lessons in the uncomfortable parts of life.  When your stomach hurts don’t numb out or distract yourself.  Instead, experience it fully.  Maybe there is a message there and maybe that lesson is to eat more mindfully.

Perhaps you are uncomfortable because someone hurt you.  Be present and fully accept what has happened.  Once you do that you can emotionally process it better and more creatively find a solution where everyone involved can thrive.

You are a powerful being, just remember that most of your power is contained in the present mindful moment.  Right now you have the power you are looking for to find peace, change, or whatever your heart desires most.

Let us know in the comments below what you do to stay mindful in your daily life.

How Meditation Changes Your Brain: A Neuroscientist Explains

Do you struggle, like me, with monkey-mind? Is your brain also a little unsettled, restless, capricious, whimsical, fanciful, inconstant, confused, indecisive, or uncontrollable? That’s the definition of “monkey mind” I’ve been given!

If you need more motivation to take up this transformative practice, neuroscience research has shown that meditation and mindfulness training can cause neuroplastic changes to the gray matter of your brain.

A group of Harvard neuroscientists interested in mindfulness meditation have reported that brain structures change after only eight weeks of meditation practice.

Sara Lazar, Ph.D., the study’s senior author, said in a press release,

“Although the practice of meditation is associated with a sense of peacefulness and physical relaxation, practitioners have long claimed that meditation also provides cognitive and psychological benefits that persist throughout the day.”

To test their idea the neuroscientists enrolled 16 people in an eight-week mindfulness-based stress reduction course. The course promised to improve participants’ mindfulness and well-being, and reduce their levels of stress.

Everyone received audio recordings containing 45-minute guided mindfulness exercises (body scan, yoga, and sitting meditation) that they were instructed to practice daily at home. And to facilitate the integration of mindfulness into daily life, they were also taught to practice mindfulness informally in everyday activities such as eating, walking, washing the dishes, taking a shower, and so on. On average, the meditation group participants spent an average of 27 minutes a day practicing some form of mindfulness.

Magnetic resonance images (MRI scans) of everyone’s brains were taken before and after they completed the meditation training, and a control group of people who didn’t do any mindfulness training also had their brains scanned.

After completing the mindfulness course, all participants reported significant improvement in measures of mindfulness, such as “acting with awareness” and “non-judging.”

What was startling was that the MRI scans showed that mindfulness groups increased gray matter concentration within the left hippocampus, the posterior cingulate cortex, the temporo-parietal junction, and the cerebellum. Brain regions involved in learning and memory, emotion regulation, sense of self, and perspective taking!

Britta Hölzel, the lead author on the paper says,

“It is fascinating to see the brain’s plasticity and that, by practicing meditation, we can play an active role in changing the brain and can increase our well-being and quality of life.”

Sarah Lazar also noted,

“This study demonstrates that changes in brain structure may underlie some of these reported improvements and that people are not just feeling better because they are spending time relaxing.”

Mindfulness meditation may ease anxiety, mental stress.


My mom began meditating decades ago, long before the mind-calming practice had entered the wider public consciousness. Today, at age 81, she still goes to a weekly meditation group and quotes Thich Nhat Hanh, a Zen Buddhist monk known for his practice of mindfulness, or “present-focused awareness.”

Although meditation still isn’t exactly mainstream, many people practice it, hoping to stave off stress and stress-related health problems. Mindfulness meditation, in particular, has become more popular in recent years. The practice involves sitting comfortably, focusing on your breathing, and then bringing your mind’s attention to the present without drifting into concerns about the past or future. (Or, as my mom would say, “Don’t rehearse tragedies. Don’t borrow trouble.”)

But, as is true for a number of other alternative therapies, much of the evidence to support meditation’s effectiveness in promoting mental or physical health isn’t quite up to snuff. Why? First, many studies don’t include a good control treatment to compare with meditation. Second, the people most likely to volunteer for a meditation study are often already sold on meditation’s benefits and so are more likely to report positive effects.

But when researchers from Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, MD sifted through nearly 19,000 meditation studies, they found 47 trials that addressed those issues and met their criteria for well-designed studies. Their findings, published in this week’sJAMA Internal Medicine, suggest that mindfulness meditation can help ease psychological stresses like anxiety, depression, and pain.

Dr. Elizabeth Hoge, a psychiatrist at the Center for Anxiety and Traumatic Stress Disorders at Massachusetts General Hospital and an assistant professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School, says that mindfulness meditation makes perfect sense for treating anxiety. “People with anxiety have a problem dealing with distracting thoughts that have too much power,” she explains. “They can’t distinguish between a problem-solving thought and a nagging worry that has no benefit.”

“If you have unproductive worries,” says Dr. Hoge, you can train yourself to experience those thoughts completely differently. “You might think ‘I’m late, I might lose my job if I don’t get there on time, and it will be a disaster!’ Mindfulness teaches you to recognize, ‘Oh, there’s that thought again. I’ve been here before. But it’s just that—a thought, and not a part of my core self,’” says Dr. Hoge.

One of her recent studies (which was included in the JAMA Internal Medicine review) found that a mindfulness-based stress reduction program helped quell anxiety symptoms in people with generalized anxiety disorder, a condition marked by hard-to-control worries, poor sleep, and irritability. People in the control group—who also improved, but not as much as those in the meditation group—were taught general stress management techniques. All the participants received similar amounts of time, attention, and group interaction.

To get a sense of mindfulness meditation, you can try one of the guided recordings by Dr. Ronald Siegel, an assistant clinical professor of psychology at Harvard Medical School. They are available for free at www.mindfulness-solution.com.

Some people find that learning mindfulness techniques and practicing them with a group is especially helpful, says Dr. Hoge. Mindfulness-based stress reduction training, developed by Dr. Jon Kabat-Zinn at the University of Massachusetts Medical School in Worcester, MA, is now widely available in cities throughout the United States.

My mom would point you to Thich Nhat Hahn, who offers this short meditation in his bookBeing Peace: “Breathing in, I calm my body. Breathing out, I smile. Dwelling in the present moment, I know this is a wonderful moment.”

Changing Our DNA through Mind Control?

A study finds meditating cancer patients are able to affect the makeup of their DNA

“I think, therefore I am” is perhaps the most familiar one-liner in western philosophy. Even if the stoners, philosophers and quantum mechanically-inclined skeptics who believe we’re living an illusion are right, few existential quips hit with such profound, approachable simplicity.  The only catch is that in Descartes’ opinion, “we” – our thoughts, our personalities, our “minds” – are mostly divorced from our bodies.

The polymathic Frenchman and other dualist philosophers proposed that while the mind exerts control over our physical interaction with the world, there is a clear delineation between body and mind; that our material forms are simply temporary housing for our immaterial souls. But centuries of science argue against a corporeal crash pad. The body and mind appear inextricably linked. And findings from a new study published in Cancer by a Canadian group suggest that our mental state has measurable physical influence on us – more specifically on our DNA.

Lead investigator Dr. Linda E. Carlson and her colleagues found that in breast cancer patients, support group involvement and mindfulness meditation – an adapted form of Buddhist meditation in which practitioners focus on present thoughts and actions in a non-judgmental way, ignoring past grudges and future concerns — are associated with preserved telomere length. Telomeres are stretches of DNA that cap our chromosomes and help prevent chromosomal deterioration — biology professors often liken them to the plastic tips on shoelaces. Shortened telomeres aren’t known to cause a specific disease per se, but they do whither with age and are shorter in people with cancer, diabetes, heart disease and high stress levels. We want our telomeres intact.

In Carlson’s study distressed breast cancer survivors were divided into three groups. The first group was randomly assigned to an 8-week cancer recovery program consisting of mindfulness meditation and yoga; the second to 12-weeks of group therapy in which they shared difficult emotions and fostered social support; and the third was a control group, receiving just a 6-hour stress management course. A total of 88 women completed the study and had their blood analyzed for telomere length before and after the interventions. Telomeres were maintained in both treatment groups but shortened in controls.

Previous work hinted at this association. A study led by diet and lifestyle guru Dr. Dean Ornish from 2008 reported that the combination of a vegan diet, stress management, aerobic exercise and participation in a support group for 3 months resulted in increased telomerase activity in men with prostate cancer, telomerase being the enzyme that maintains telomeres by adding DNA to the ends of our chromosomes. More recent work looking at meditation reported similar findings. And though small and un-randomized, a 2013 follow up study by Ornish, again looking at prostate cancer patients, found that lifestyle interventions are associated with longer telomeres.

The biologic benefits of meditation in particular extend well beyond telomere preservation. Earlier work by Carlson found that in cancer patients, mindfulness is associated with healthier levels of the stress hormone cortisol and a decrease in compounds that promote inflammation. Moreover, as she points out, “generally healthy people in a work-based mindfulness stress reduction program have been shown to produce higher antibody titers to the flu vaccine than controls, and there has been promising work looking at the effects of mindfulness in HIV and diabetes.” Past findings also show that high stress increases the risk of viral infections – including the common cold – as well as depression and cardiovascular disease.

The therapeutic potential of the mind-body intersect is well-known. Biofeedback – in which sensor-clad patients learn awareness of and control over various physiologic functions – has been around for decades and is used to treat pain, headache, high blood pressure and sleep problems, among numerous other conditions. And of course there’s the placebo effect, the complicated yet very real psychobiological benefit achieved from a patient’s expectations of a treatment rather than the treatment itself.

Though optimistic that meditative and social approaches are mental means toward better physical, and not just psychologic well-being, Carlson rightly hedges. “The meaning of the maintenance of telomere length in this study is unknown. However, I think that processing difficult emotions is important for both emotional and physical health, and this can be done both through group support with emotional expression, and through mindfulness meditation practice,” she says.

Carlson wonders if mentally-rooted telomeric changes are long-lasting, if the same patterns would hold true in other cancers and conditions, and what the effects of mental intervention would be if offered at the time of diagnosis and treatment – all questions she hopes to pursue.

According to a report published by Harvard Medical School in 2011, 6.3 million Americans were using mind-body therapies at the advice of conventional doctors – a surprisingly high number that has surely since grown. Still, prescription meditation – especially in the interest of physical health — is far from the norm in Western medicine. And it remains unclear whether or not preserved telomeres actually prolong survival in cancer patients; or in anyone for that matter. But stress reduction in the interest of chromosomal preservation, and other possible health benefits, seems like a pursuit even a 17th Century dualist philosopher could get behind.

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