From an early age, I was drawn to the idea of meditation. Characters like Caine from Kung Fu or mystics in films seemed to possess a secret calm that was elusive to me. Their peace was something I sought but couldn’t find through the methods I knew. Raised in a Catholic environment, I had some exposure to contemplation, but it was vastly different from the meditation practices I would later discover. Catholic contemplation focused more on prayer and reflection, while what I found in Vipassana—derived from Buddhist teachings—was a clear, methodical way of observing the mind. Vipassana, or “insight meditation,” involves observing sensations and thoughts without reacting, fostering a deep awareness of the present moment.
There was a time when I tried to integrate meditation into my life after 14 years of recovery which collapsed. However, in the grip of relapse, meditation became just another failed attempt at control. I joined a group that met weekly, trying different forms of meditation with friends, but I felt lost. One particularly humiliating moment stands out—when my meditation group arrived at my house while I was mid-bender. There I was, trying to hide my state of disarray, hoping the chaotic energy swirling inside me wouldn’t seep out. That day marked the depth of my struggle, and meditation felt far from a solution.
In my desperation to find some form of comfort, I cycled through different recovery modalities—Dharma recovery, SMART recovery—each promising that epiphany, that one moment where everything would click. But it never came fast enough. I was left grasping for anything to bring me relief.
The turning point came when I recommitted to the 12 steps, particularly Step 11, which encourages daily meditation and prayer. I found Sam Harris’s Waking Up app and began meditating for just 10 minutes a day. Slowly, insights began to emerge, small but significant. This practice became the foundation of my daily recovery, one that would eventually reconnect me to something greater than myself.
Interestingly, these insights felt familiar. They reminded me of past experiences with psychedelics like DMT, LSD, and psilocybin. The sense of non-duality of awareness that I had experienced on those substances was akin to the detachment and observation that meditation fostered—only this time, without the chaos and dissociation that accompanied addiction.
As I continued to meditate, I began to see thoughts, emotions, and behaviors, not as forces controlling me, but as phenomena I could observe without reacting. Meditation gave me the space to witness discomfort and emotional pain without being overwhelmed by it. I became more resilient. In recovery, this resilience was vital. Step 11 became more than just a practice that in the past I treated as an al carte menu; it was a lifeline that allowed me to detach from the emotional rollercoaster of early sobriety.
Meditation also began to heal my trauma and relationships. Sitting with unresolved pain, I found clarity. It wasn’t that the pain disappeared, but I was no longer running from it. Meditation transcended formal sessions—it became a part of my everyday life, helping me navigate difficult conversations, rebuild trust, and let go of relationships that were no longer healthy.
Through this practice, I discovered three types of attention that meditation cultivates—spotlight, lantern, and executive function. Spotlight attention focuses intensely on a single task, lantern attention spreads awareness to the environment, and executive function allows us to manage and prioritize tasks. Developing these types of attention through meditation helped me gain agency over my life. I became aware of where my attention was going and how I could redirect it to things that truly mattered.
In the end, meditation simplified itself into two guiding principles: “Pay attention to what’s happening” and “Be kind.” That’s it. These two rules are now at the heart of my meditation practice and my life. When I follow them, I remain grounded in the present, no longer lost in the endless loop of thoughts that once dominated my world.
References:
- Harris, S. (2014). Waking Up: A Guide to Spirituality Without Religion. Simon & Schuster.
- Goldstein, J. (2016). Mindfulness: A Practical Guide to Awakening. Sounds True.
- Kornfield, J. (2009). The Wise Heart: A Guide to the Universal Teachings of Buddhist Psychology. Bantam Books.
- Adyashanti. (2008). The End of Your World: Uncensored Straight Talk on the Nature of Enlightenment. Sounds True.