Fair warning: this post is about my forthcoming book. But first, a confession. I am a clinical psychologist who is completely unwilling to meditate. I'm like an accountant who won't do long division. A tailor who can't tie a Windsor knot. A gigolo unwilling to... well, you get the point.
Maybe it's the cowboy in me (the one who won't ride horses), but my attempts to meditate have been painful experiences leading to frustration, irritability, feelings of failure, and other clinically significant symptoms.
Although I understand the benefits of meditation, and I admire those who partake, stilling my mind is like demanding serenity from a toddler on a sugar high. The moment I request quiet time, it's bouncing off the walls. George Thorogood could have been singing about my mind: you talk too much! I can't believe the things that you say!
Maybe that means that I should try harder to meditate, but I simply lack the desire to quiet my mind. It has been good to me, mostly, and it will be silent soon enough. I prefer to enjoy it while it's here, even if it sometimes drives me batty.
And so I'm proclaiming this foible to the world: this shrink don't meditate.
Why would that matter to a psychologist? Because meditation is one of the high roads to mindfulness. I have heard that, at any rate, and I believe it.
Mindfulness is the act of keeping an eye on the mind's activity; it means creating distance between us and our endless stream of thoughts. It is a fundamental skill in overcoming problems like anxiety, depression, and troubling relationship patterns. Minds have a way of assuming command when we forget to watch them. Suddenly we're on the defensive, trying to stay ahead of the problems they create. (Jonathan Kaplan has a nice description of mindfulness here.)
Early in my career, I noticed that traditional mindfulness methods simply weren't effective or attractive for many of the people who came to my office for treatment of anxiety and other difficult problems. Worse still, many exasperated clients labored under the impression that their failed attempts at serenity meant there was no hope of improvement. Nothing could be further from the truth.
My forthcoming book, The User's Guide to the Human Mind, offers an alternative. It uses lessons from behaviorism, neuroscience, and evolutionary psychology as a different and very powerful path to mindfulness. These sciences offer meaningful explanations about our minds' seemingly self-defeating behaviors. More importantly, they offer solutions.
I wrote the book from one simple premise: the mind is almost always trying to help us, even when it seems to be working against us. As strange as it may seem, even painful experiences like anxiety and depression grow out of the mind's compulsion to stay safe. When we understand what the mind is doing (that's mindfulness), we can stop fighting it and use the mind's natural behavior to our advantage.
For example, research suggests that pessimism is one of the mind's error management systems. By forecasting potential problems, the mind is really trying to keep us out of trouble. The trick to managing pessimistic thoughts is not necessarily to eliminate them, but to practice them correctly and in the most useful fashion. Silencing pessimistic thoughts is not only unlikely, it would be crippling and dangerous to rid ourselves of one of the mind's protective features.
It is liberating to understand and appreciate what the mind is doing. Insight can alleviate pain, reduce the internal struggle, and free us to live as we wish. When we're no longer battling the mind, but instead using it's natural functions to our best advantage, we open a new world of possibilities.
And the best part for someone like me: no meditating!
If you're curious to know more, I invite you to read the book's introduction. And the image below links to a brief book trailer starring the character from the cover.
The User's Guide is due on shelves this December. In the meantime, I hope you'll take a moment to thank your mind for keeping you safe. I do it almost every day, which ain't bad for a guy who can't meditate.
