A few years ago, I was shamed pretty hard by a massage therapist.
As one does, I was trying to make conversation during the appointment. Given the state of my shoulder muscles, the discussion naturally turned to the subject of my stress. The therapist asked how I tend to manage that stress, and I shared about my regular therapy appointments, exercise regimen, and—because I thought I was in a safe space—my SSRI prescription. I sensed pure mortification and disgust from the woman working the pain out of my body. I wasn’t looking for validation from her, but I have to tell you: I wasn’t expecting such judgement.
After we’d both recovered, the massage therapist asked me if I’d ever tried meditation. I answered honestly that, yes, I had tried it—several times, actually—but that it hadn’t felt like the right fit for me.
Again, I could feel the mortification and disgust coming through her hands.
She lectured me about her own experience with meditation and how frustrated she felt to hear someone (hi, it’s me) claim that it just hadn’t “worked” for them when they hadn’t made a real commitment to it over a longer period of time. I (truthfully!) explained that meditation is a critical part of the mental health routine for many of my loved ones in hopes of neutralizing what had become a very uncomfortable vibe so we could both move on with my massage (which was, aside from the lecture, excellent).
Years later, I still think about this encounter. As I noted, the massage itself was fantastic, but the conversation was also unforgettable—at least for me.
With the benefit of a few more years of life experience (and therapy), I can see that I probably should have disengaged sooner. Even setting aside the client/provider dynamic, it wasn’t up to me to set this person at ease by validating her belief in meditation when she was brushing off the personal things I was sharing with her in what I thought was a safe space. Her scolding didn’t make me feel any more inclined to go back to Headspace and Calm—the apps I’d used in my previous attempts to be the kind of person who meditated her way into better mental health. In fact, it turned me off even further from the whole practice.
But over time, I’ve also started to wonder if I might experience another activity the way others (like the massage therapist) experience meditation. The activity in question? Reading. Obviously.
Let me say… I know that meditation is a practice steeped in history and that it’s extremely meaningful to many people. I know that there are many ways to meditate and that our collective insistence on mainstreaming it by packaging it in apps has, in itself, cheapened it to some degree. I realize that for spiritual purists, only meditation is meditation, and I don’t mean to make light of that. I’m also open to the fact that, per that bizarre conversation during a massage appointment a few years ago, I could work a little harder to allow a meditation practice to work for me.
But in the meantime, I thought I’d test my theory a bit. And since many of my subscribers are big readers, I figured you’d probably be interested, too.
So let’s discuss: can reading “count” as meditation?
(For the record, I’m picturing a little sticker chart where I get to give myself credit for legitimately tending to my mental and emotional health after a reading marathon.)
Currently Reading: Margo’s Got Money Troubles by Rufi Thorpe
I’ve been anxiously awaiting my moment to read this book since the beginning of the summer. Pretty much everyone I know has sung its praises and I’m starting to feel like I’m too out of the loop to ever catch up. But the time is here and I can already tell it’s been worth the wait! Why must it be the middle of a workday when I’d really like to be snuggled up in bed getting further into Margo’s world????
First, let’s take a look at the official definition of meditation and meditative practices. This does not, of course, account for the richness of the field, but for the purposes of this conversation, here’s a brief explanation I found on Mindful:
Meditation is a practice that involves focusing the mind to achieve a state of calm and clarity. When we explore the meaning of meditation, we understand it as a method to cultivate mindfulness and awareness. To define meditation more precisely, it is a technique that trains the mind to concentrate and redirect thoughts, often towards the breath, which serves as an anchor.
How do you learn to meditate? In mindfulness meditation, we’re learning how to pay attention to the breath as it goes in and out, and notice when the mind wanders from this task. This practice of returning to the breath builds the muscles of attention and mindfulness.
When we pay attention to our breath, we are learning how to return to, and remain in, the present moment—to anchor ourselves in the here and now on purpose, without judgement.
I’m going to break down this definition into smaller pieces and consider how it (or if it) aligns with my love for reading. (In case you were wondering, this is how you prove things and do science.)
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Getting It Alli Together to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.