Two thousand years ago, a young man sat under a tree and focused on his breath. Amidst the noisy chatter of the jungle, he found deep calm in feeling and observing its rise and fall. He subsequently attained Buddhahood – complete awakening.
When I first came across the practice of breathing mindfulness there were no trees in evidence but there was plenty of chatter in my mind. I had heard of a meditation class taking place at the University Students’ Union and I was very keen to find some stillness in my somewhat frantic life. As I walked into the room everyone seemed strangely quiet. I sensed instantly that I needed whatever was there! When we sat, we were asked to take long breaths and to try and feel at ease with them, just letting the attention rest on each breath as it rose and fell. At first I could not seem to find the breath, let alone watch it. Looking out from pretend-closed eyes I wondered why everyone around me seemed so tranquil …
I persevered though, until giving attention to a long breath started to become possible. Provided I didn’t try too hard, it could even feel very pleasant. The long breathing we were doing seemed to have a way of sorting out knots and tensions. It felt like a kind of washing, with bits of grit in the mind and body being eased away by the gentle rinsing of the air moving in and out. I went back every week of that term, and after a while something surprising happened: I realised I really wanted to do the meditation! Watching the breath just made me more calm and happy. My mind, which previously had felt like a bee that had been buzzing around aimlessly, had at last found somewhere comfortable to settle.
So many people must have had an experience like this. But when I tried to find books on the topic there was nothing. The practice I was doing was called, I discovered, Samatha, meaning (calm) breathing mindfulness. Apparently, Southeast Asia used to be home to all kinds of such meditations, often passed on unrecorded from one person to the next, life to life. A bit like an ancient forest filled with different species of trees, breathing meditations have taken root in many and various ways. These traditions are all interrelated and derive nourishment from the foliage, herbs, insects and roots – the different conditions and dispositions of the people who practise them. Some people prefer one method and some another. You can sit under the tree of your choice and it will always support and protect you as you learn more about your breath.
I have always loved hearing about the many customs, the various types of meditation, and the different ways people have practised them. In the book I’ve just written I explore some of these methods, and try to show that the great diversity of breathing mindfulness practices is a sign of the continuing health and relevance of this ancient way – just like the biodiversity of the forest. Breathing mindfulness helped me put down roots and I hope it helps others too.