Things I’m good at: multitasking, overcommitting, starting things and not finishing them. Watching Netflix while listening to a podcast while cooking dinner while messaging a friend, while skim-reading an important article.
Things I’m not good at: silence, boredom, focusing on the present, being alone with my thoughts. And so, by extension, meditation.
I’ve tried to meditate several times over the years, encouraged by stories from friends and experts about how beneficial it is for our mental health, motivation, confidence and clarity. So far, I’ve never managed to make it more than several minutes into a session without: a) falling asleep; b) remembering something very urgent that needs to be done right now; or c) allowing my thoughts to wander in such catastrophic directions that it leaves me more stressed than when I started. But if I’m ever going to change that, 2020 seems a good time to try.
This year, like so many people, I’ve felt my anxiety skyrocket while my productivity and creativity have plummeted. My silence-aversion and phone addiction have reached new lows (I’m talking watching TV on the toilet), and it often feels as if the only way to coax myself through another working day is offering my brain episodes of Gilmore Girls like dog treats to a wayward puppy.
So can I finally learn to be mindful? And could I do so by using the zeitgeist social media platform TikTok? The irony of using social media as a tool to refocus my attention isn’t lost on me. But the truth is that beyond the dance challenges and celebrity lip-syncs, TikTok is fast becoming a hub for short and snappy instructional videos about a variety of subjects and skills.
Videos tagged #meditation clock up a cool 643m views. And after the number of adult users multiplied more than six times between October 2017 and March 2019, it is little wonder that lockdown saw an influx of professionals and experts using the platform as a teaching tool.
But where to begin? While I’m open to a certain amount of omm and woo (a walk that consists of crossing one foot over the other while hopping), it’s fair to say my tolerance for wind chimes is low. One of the first videos I land on is “meditation tips for witches”, which worries me. If witches are struggling, what hope do us muggles have?
Still, TikTok’s pick and mix buffet of content suits my natural impatience. There are as many different ways to meditate as there are users to teach me – I just have to find the one that resonates. So I learn about third eye activation. I experience my first sound bath. I watch absurdly beautiful yogis demonstrating their perfect lotus pose and feel burdened by an extra thought: “How can I get my skin to look like that?” I hope the answer is “by aligning my chakras” and not a serum that costs £300.
Then I land on Headspace, and things begin to click into place. An extension of the wildly popular mindfulness app, Headspace’s TikTok is filled with videos delivered in the brand’s signature fluff-free style. Here, instead of a woman walking dreamily through a cornfield or a dandelion clock blowing in the breeze, I can breathe in time to soothing images of fresh linguine falling languidly from a pasta maker. My kind of therapy.
Having picked up some beginners’ tips, naturally my first impulse is to multitask. Can I meditate in the shower? While running? At Sainsbury’s? But deep down I know that looking for shortcuts only leads me into a mental cul-de-sac. So I commit to 15 minutes of pure meditation every morning. I sit in an armchair I never normally sit in, and feel slightly more enlightened just by seeing the room from a different angle. Deciding it’s probably best not to start off too ambitious, I begin with the easiest possible exercise: breathing.
From influencer @anisabenitez, I learn a simple body scan technique, breathing deeply while focusing on each part of my body for 30 seconds in turn, from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet. Although trying to “relax” my earlobes isn’t the kind of cognitive epiphany I’d hoped for, I do feel more relaxed afterwards. As a chronic hypochondriac, I spend arguably too much time scanning my body for symptoms – but this time, I’m forced to focus on all the parts of me that aren’t hurting or threatening to fall off.
One myth every instructor I watch seems determined to debunk is the idea that meditation means emptying one’s mind; in fact, the goal is to let thoughts pass through without panic or judgment. During my second session, I can’t stop thinking about what I’m going to eat for lunch. But as @lovecolbyjanine reassures me, “distractions can be messages”.
Next I discover the Miami-based spiritual coach Estefanía, who posts as @alignwithmee. From her Meditation Hack Tuesdays, I’m thrilled to learn about whistle breathing. Whistling is something I am good at. I’ve often lamented the lack of opportunities for talented whistlers to monetise our skills or harness them for good; now I can whistle my way to a higher plane! My downstairs neighbours are thrilled.
The next morning I move on to fire meditation, as guided by “spiritual seeker” and author @vishuddhadass. Staring at a candle flame for 15 minutes feels more comfortable than keeping my eyes closed, and with the flickering light to focus on I find that it’s easier to gently bring my mind back each time it wanders. For the first time, I’m disappointed when my meditation ends.
For all digital tools, there’s a fine line between companion and crutch. I’ve saved more than 20 videos for future reference, but @whitneycatalano advises that when we find ourselves scrolling the internet in a desperate hunt for more information, that’s when we should turn to meditation instead. “You’re craving connection,” she says. “And information is not the same thing as connection.” Like all good teachers, TikTok can only take me so far before I need to put my phone down and go it alone.
After a week of morning sessions, I may not have unlocked bountiful secret reserves of creative energy, but I do notice I’m sitting down to work with less weary apprehension than before. I’ve stopped taking my phone to the loo. And I’ve realised something: successful meditation isn’t like conjuring up the image in a Magic Eye picture. It’s not a knack you grasp, or a hypnotic trance you slip into – at least, not at my amateur level.
Rather, it’s a practice, in every sense of the word. The most important thing is being prepared to pause, breathe, and see what happens. Sit with my feelings, as the kids say.
It turns out, I wasn’t “failing” to meditate all those times before. I was just giving up before it got good.
Explore the world of TikTok and discover the joy of learning new things in shorter bursts. What will you #LearnOnTikTok?
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