It was 1966. The consciousness movement was just beginning to blossom, The Beach Boys released “Good Vibrations,” and Star Trek premiered on TV.

I had just graduated from high school, and after attending a meditation lecture on the UCLA campus, I had signed up to learn how to meditate. The lecturer, who seemed very peaceful, had said it would change my life in all sorts of wonderful ways and I was looking forward to it with great expectations.

Those of us who signed up were advised to remain free of alcohol and recreational drugs for two weeks, which I did…up until the night before my “initiation.” But there was a party at the beach that night and I figured having a little wine wouldn’t hurt. I didn’t drink that much, but it was enough for me to arrive at the meditation center the next morning with a bit of brain-fuzz. However, considering I was 18 and it was the 60s, it could have been worse.

The teacher took me into a small room with incense and candles burning, and fruit and flowers decorating a small altar. As we sat in front of the altar, he did a guru puja—a Sanskrit ceremony to honor the guru and the entire lineage of gurus. When he finished, he gave me a mantra and told me how to repeat it.

Expecting something profound to happen, I began repeating the mantra in the suggested manner. After a few minutes, nothing was happening—just a bunch of thoughts. The teacher asked me what I was experiencing. I told him nothing but thoughts, and he said it’s fine, just keep meditating. After a few more minutes, there was still nothing happening—just more thoughts. The teacher asked again and I told him the same thing again. Again, he said it was okay and to just continue.

I was starting to feel a little disappointed.

A few more minutes and there was still nothing but thoughts, lots of thoughts! By now I was starting to feel more than a little disappointed, wondering if this was ever going to work. The teacher again said it’s fine, not to worry. But I was starting to get annoyed—with him and the whole thing.

It went on like this for about 15 minutes. Mind all over the map, lots of thoughts, growing disappointment and frustration. When he finally brought me out, I told him it didn’t work. Again he said not to worry, it’s fine, and to come back in a few days for a follow-up session. I didn’t think it was fine! I left feeling extremely disappointed.

But as soon as I got in my car to leave, an incredible feeling came over me. I was suddenly filled with what I can only describe as extreme bliss. I was driving to work and when I arrived, I was still completely blissed-out and grinning like an idiot.

At 18, my summer job was making sandwiches at a Santa Monica beach club grill, and it was July 4th weekend—the busiest weekend of the year. As I began working, I felt totally energized and the work was flowing, easy, even fun. I had never experienced being in the zone like that.

Was it my “unsuccessful” meditation that catalyzed all this? It must have been. I could think of no other explanation.

What I learned right out of the gate is that there’s no such thing as an unsuccessful meditation—that even when it seems like nothing is happening, something very beneficial is happening on a deep, unperceived level of awareness.

Before long, my meditations became more enjoyable. I learned to accept the thoughts rather than resist them. I also learned that sometimes they subside on their own and I can still experience inner peace and relaxation even with thoughts in my head. And as the teacher promised, it changed my life in all sorts of wonderful ways.

July 2nd marked 50 years since that first meditation experience. For me, it was about more than just learning how to meditate—it was an initiation to my spiritual path. It has been a remarkable journey, and to celebrate this milestone, I’d like to share with you some of what I’ve learned and experienced. I hope it will provide encouragement and understanding, regarding your meditation practice (or future practice), and shed some light on your path of awakening.

My first year of meditating was filled with exciting changes. This initial phase of the spiritual journey is often referred to as the “honeymoon phase,” and for good reason. It’s generally a time when one is opening to a new and fascinating world of spiritual concepts and information, and beginning to view the world in a very different light.

If you were to put a list of all the many benefits of meditation in front of me, I’m sure I could check “yes” for most of them. But for me, the most welcome benefit was an immediate boost to my energy level, which had been extremely low. This included my mental energy as well as physical energy. Before I began meditating, my energy level was so low that just carrying on a conversation was a strain. And although I didn’t become a human dynamo, I at least began to feel “normal” in the energy department.

Much of this was due to the fact that meditation increases the flow of energy to the brain, which not only clears and vitalizes the mind, but somehow spills over, raising the physical energy level as well. The brain needs sufficient energy to function optimally, and my brain desperately needed more of it. Meditation provided it with the extra shot it needed.

This dynamic helped make keeping up a daily meditation practice easy for me. If I neglected to meditate at my designated time, my brain would let me know straightaway—signaling me, like a hungry cat, that it’s time to be fed. This was mostly a big plus, but there was a downside. When I became a meditation teacher, it was harder for me to relate to the difficulties students have in staying with a daily practice. I’ve since learned about all the various things that can derail a meditation practice, but there’s still a little part of me that thinks, “C’mon, it’s not that hard.”

My honeymoon phase included other highlights as well:

• My creative channels opened up in a big way. I began playing music, writing poetry and songs, and making bamboo flutes.

• Various unhealthy habits fell away naturally. It wasn’t something I had to force on myself, I simply lost my desire for things that were toxic for my body. So now, as a result of meditation and a healthy lifestyle, I rarely get sick, and when I do, my body tends to heal itself quickly.

• The most exciting change during that first year, was that I received a tremendous influx of new insight—about life, particularly my own life and purpose. It was as if I had just synced with the cosmic computer, and the universe was downloading all this “profound” info into my mind. I suddenly understood, or at least thought I did, the meaning of life and the essential workings of the universe.

Sadly, all honeymoons end, and mine ended after about a year. Then the spiritual work began—learning and applying my life lessons, dealing with (or avoiding) my issues.

For good or ill, I’m not hardwired to be a follower, so I never “officially” adopted anyone as my guru, and didn’t attend many personal growth workshops. Hence, I essentially had to create my own path. However, I always made it a point to spend time with, study with and receive darshan, or initiation, from any awakened teachers who happened to be in my vicinity. Fortunately, there were many of them around during my spiritual formative years. Among them was Chögyam Trungpa, who I was lucky enough to hear give a talk one night in San Francisco.

In case some of you are curious, regarding the progress I’ve made or my state of awareness after 50 years of daily meditation, I’ll try to articulate it as honestly and briefly as possible. After all the meditation, all the reflection, all the learning, processing and initiations, I’m still quite human.

Fortunately, over time I’ve grown to embrace my humanness. I still get annoyed with people and situations. I still experience most of the emotional spectrum—sadness, joy, fear, love. I’m still a bit impatient and compulsive, and am more than a little bit attached to the state of my internet connection.

However, I have found my calm inner center, have experienced my oneness with the “ground of being” and have grown in compassion and the ability to act with loving-kindness. Of course, there’s still plenty of room for growth in these departments. I’m not by any means permanently centered in my silent inner self. But I’m nearly always conscious of it to some degree. And when it does get totally overshadowed by my thoughts or life’s “stuff,” I’ve learned how to shift back to that calm space.

But of all that has unfolded over these years, I think what I value most (besides the privilege of teaching) is having learned to appreciate the exquisite perfection in each circumstance I’m presented with, to recognize the lesson in it (though not always immediately) and to laugh at the cosmic humor behind it and my very human reaction to it.

As for my meditation practice? I still meditate twice a day for about 20 minutes. I enjoy the whole range of experiences, from ordinary to extraordinary. And after 50 years, I still believe what I learned from that very first session: there is no such thing as an unsuccessful meditation.

 

Author: Jim Malloy

Image: Author’s own

Editors: Nicole Cameron; Emily Bartran