When I first started meditating, my mind wouldn’t shut up. I’d sit, breathe, try to be still but within seconds, I’d be off fantasising about dinner, replaying an awkward conversation, or wondering if I should be doing something more “productive.” Sound familiar?
I later learned that this is the practice.
Meeting the hindrances
Early on, I was introduced to the Five Hindrances, classic teachings from the Buddha that name exactly what I was experiencing. It was strangely comforting to know that even 2,500 years ago, people struggled with the same mental distractions in meditation.
These ancient Buddhist teachings still speak volumes today. Here’s what they look like: both in theory and in my experience:
- Sense desire: Craving would sneak in like a whisper – a long-lost memory, the snack I’d get after meditation.
- Ill will: Sometimes, I’d find myself mentally rehearsing conversations, feeling annoyed or playing out what I should have said.
- Sloth and torpor: There were days I felt foggy like covering myself with a heavy blanket of tiredness.
- Restlessness and anxiety: My body would fidget. My mind would bounce from one thought to another like a browser with 30 tabs open.
- Doubt: “Is this even working? Shouldn’t you be doing something else?”
Learning the antidotes to the hindrances
I began to see meditation not as a fight against my thoughts, but a way to transform them.
I consider the consequences. When I felt the pull of rumination or irritation, I asked myself: where does this lead if I keep following it?
I cultivate the opposite: For restlessness, I focused on the breath. For doubt, I reminded myself: “You showed up. That matters.”
I imagined my thoughts as clouds passing through a big open sky. I notice them and let them go.
I learnt to suppress (gently). I say, “not now”, especially with minor distractions.
On hard days, I leaned on my intention: why I practice. For clarity, for compassion, for presence in my life.
What changed
I became more aware of how my mind worked, and more compassionate towards myself.
I started noticing the same patterns – restlessness, doubt, irritation in daily life. But now I had tools. I could pause, breathe, and choose how to respond.
Meditation also helped me listen – to others and to myself. It created space in my day that felt like oxygen.
What I’m practising now
I try to sit for 20-25 minutes most mornings. Some days are messy. Some are beautiful. Most are both.
I sometimes follow a playlist such as the Insight Timer app to anchor me.
Balanced effort
Over time, I started to understand what balanced effort felt like. It wasn’t forcing stillness. It was showing up patiently, consistently, without expecting fireworks. Some days were harder. Some easier. But I began to sense more lightness, more clarity, more curiosity. And that shifted everything.
Meditation didn’t quiet my mind overnight. But it helped me meet my mind with kindness.
Now, when I sit, I know the hindrances may still show up. But I greet them as old companions. Not enemies.
One of my favourite ways to stay grounded? Meditating on the go – on a train or tube ride. Yes, it’s possible! No cross-legged pose required. Just breathe, stay with the moment… instead of scrolling.
Tip: A good pair of noise-cancelling headphones makes this even easier. Silence the world, tune in, and turn commute time into you time.