I was raised a Buddhist and was taught meditation when I was young. My first formal meditation teaching was when I was in the 6th grade. The instructions were simple — close your eyes, sit still in the lotus position, and pay attention to the breaths. The students were given the word “Buddho”. We were to think “Bud” with the in-breath, and “Dho” with the out-breath. It was supposed to help us anchor our attention and connect to the breath. Despite my best effort, none of the techniques worked for me. My young mind wandered randomly and wildly, it traveled everywhere but the breaths.
I stopped meditating after I got into medical school and didn’t try again until almost 20 years into medical practice. Earlier this year, I decided to get back into it. I read meditation guides and took courses. Nothing seemed to help. The 6th grader in me was still easily distracted, perhaps even more so now with 20-plus years of worries, anxiety, and depressing thoughts to fuel the turbulence of the mind.
Also earlier this year, we added a new member to the family. Nemo was an Australian shepherd. He hailed from a farm in Tennessee when he was 2 months old. Nemo was intelligent and naturally mild-mannered. When he turned 4 months, we took him to the vet for a routine checkup and vaccinations.
“Nemo is a good boy. Everything checks out,” said the vet.
That was our expectation as well. Nemo seemed very healthy and we had no concerns.
“But there’s one thing,” the vet continued.
We were a little alarmed. What one thing?
“He’s overweight. You should control his portion and exercise him,” said the vet.
That wasn’t so bad. We could totally do that. We thanked the vet and took Nemo home.
The following day, I started his diet regimen and started morning runs with him. Despite being so good at learning tricks and following commands, running on a leash was Nemo’s kryptonite. He pulled, he tugged, and he constantly played with the leash. For the first few weeks, we didn’t run much at all because Nemo was so distracted.
I kept reminding myself that he was just a puppy. Pulling and playing were his nature. I could train him to stay in line but he would continue getting distracted. That’s what puppies do.
The connection between training Nemo to run on a loose leash and my mind to stay grounded during meditation should not be subtle. But for a while, it was. Nemo has taught me that just like a puppy, our mind is spirited and naturally wanders. The practice of meditation is not to turn a puppy into something different, but to be aware of its natural tendency and learn to keep it grounded. Meditation is the leash to keep our mind present. The anchor could be our breaths, a chant, a sight, or our steps in case of walking meditation. The point is not to stop the puppy from getting distracted. The core practice is the gentle reeling of the leash to guide it back to anchor again, again, and again.
With training, Nemo became a good running partner. He stayed pretty much right next to me on our runs. There were times when he noticed something of interest and tried to pull away from the leash. I just had to guide him back gently, then we moved forward together again. My favorite form of meditation these days is the morning run with Nemo. We pay attention to the steps ahead of us to stay present, observe what’s surrounding us, and just let them be.
Metta and much care to you all.