Distractions in Meditation

Source: Author via DALL-e

Like many of my peer contributors to Psychology Today, I bathe regularly. Of course, I bathe mindfully and with intention, if not outright compulsion.

Now that I have your attention: While I carried on in this morning's ablutions, I was storyboarding in my noggin. The goal was some clever way to convey ironic information about the misunderstood, yet fruitful role of distraction in meditation. In the mere moments it took to complete the cleansing of my balding pate, I landed on, um, a bubbly metaphor for the issue.

Chapter and verse about basic meditation practice would have us attempt to avoid or at least minimize any intrusions on our pristine watching. But we need not get in a lather about the inevitability of stuff distracting us. In fact, what distracts us can itself hold its own value.

I will explain.

Most all of us are familiar with the "lather/rinse/repeat" of basic practice. We attend — to the breath, a feeling state, gratitude, our left pinkie toe, etc. Inevitably, we lose that attention; off to some mindless variation on the spectrum of "monkey mindedness" to "sludge". Sooner or later, some lovely pirouette takes place: We become aware of our lost attentional track. We are then admonished, so say the elders, to return to our prior intention in watching, with minimal further judgment or additional input. Whatever lather lingers must be quickly rinsed.

As a result, I observe that many meditators treat distraction like a sign of failure—like we’ve broken some hoary rule by thinking about lunch, or totalitarianism, or something, during breath practice. Further contamination of meditating ensues, and our inner critic chimes in: “Ugh, I’m terrible at this.”

But here’s the twist: What pulls you away isn’t always or even ever the enemy. It might actually be the curriculum at times.

Distraction in meditation isn’t a failure; it’s a feature. It's lather. You notice the mind is wandering off? That’s the suds starting to form. You gently bring your attention back to the breath? That’s the rinse. And then—surprise!—you’ll wander again. And...repeat. Every time we notice we’ve drifted, that moment of awareness is gold. It’s a mindfulness rep.

Beyond the sheer practice value in regaining attention, there's something else. Noticing and identifying what distracts us, and how we relate to it, is often where the wisdom lives. The whole process is the practice, distractions and all. We watch it all. And we can take a quick mental note of what pulled us off — even if just a glimpse. That wandering thought? That emotional flare-up? That obscure memory from third grade involving a glue stick and the principal's office? These may be detours. But they may also be material. In short, it’s not a "bad sit." It’s just a revealing one in its own particular way.

What then? We usually return to the prior target of watching. Some folks may take an actual (written, recorded) note, though I personally find this tactic makes me too prone to dwell in the distraction. But: If the event is potent enough, we may consider changing the target...to the distracting phenomenon itself.

Yet let's also be clear here: the main intention in the moment is meditation, not root analysis or spreadsheet development. Not "thinking". That said, we can attend directly to the distracting thought or feeling, but with attentive curiosity: What's it like with this in mind? How does it land in body and heart, and in our "meta" awareness? We don't "think" about it more, but instead can attend to the (distracting, now main) event in the moment.

In any event, we can keep in mind that the matters that generate distraction can sometimes be trivial or meaningless. But often they are aspects of our "off-the-cushion" selves and lives that bear scrutiny. The "stuff that comes up" in the midst of practice may well end up being important fodder in psychotherapy, and in our own contemplation.

So go ahead: Get distracted. Lather well. Just try to rinse with more curiosity than judgment. Lather, rinse, repeat.