I finally achieved the badge for meditating three days in a row on the app I’m using to meditate.

To be clear, I didn’t know that this even existed. It took me 8 months to figure THAT out — or, depending on how you count, it took me 31 years to figure out how to sit still.

I want to share a bit of my journey into meditation and my discoveries about some of the misconceptions surrounding what meditation is. As I’ve begun practicing, it’s become a big part of my life. I also want to share how I built a meditation practice, and how you can do the same.

Meditation isn’t fancy

At first, I thought that meditation was this zen stillness, this otherness, a state of mind that people achieved in a ritualistic, spiritual way. It reminded me of the few moments I broke down crying as a teenager in church, that release and feeling of being something larger than yourself. Was it a feeling? An aspiration? A state of being?

It seemed elusive, strange, like something I’d never understand. Were we all chasing a blissful state of being that was seemingly just around the corner, out of reach?

And if so, why was it so darn impossible?

For beginners, and really, that means everyone — meditation is about learning how to sit still, how to breathe, and how to quiet the mind. It’s just like kindergarten, sitting on a carpet, cross-legged, and learning how to sit still.

For some of us (like me), this is hard to do.

It took me many, many years to find comfort in sitting still. The practice of asana (or yoga poses, designed to calm the body through both rigorous physical exertion and breath-flowing practices) is one of the eight steps on the path to meditation and mental calm.

So meditation is about stillness. It’s about sitting with yourself, and letting your thoughts wash over you, and learning to see beyond the immediate impulses of your mind.

It’s not fancy. It’s not out of your reach. It’s something we can all practice, and can probably get better at.

In fact, especially in the crazy-hustling city of New York and the world of hyper-connectedness, everyone could benefit not from “meditation” but from the simple act of sitting and breathing for ten minutes in quiet reflection.

And sitting still and meditating are remarkably similar, in fact.

Meditation isn’t done for pride

It seems as soon as we begin talking about meditation, a competitive edge comes out. Ego boasts forward, and you see it when people write “meditating for 15+ years,” on their bios. When we deal with the ego, like we do in meditation practice, we begin to notice how it sneaks up on us time and time again.

Meditation isn’t about shutting down one type for another, or comparing the number of years of doing it.

It’s for you, and your own mind.

Meditation is about slowing down long enough to pay attention to our racing thoughts and minds.

Yoga and swimming have been ways that I learned to meditate while moving. Meditation while sitting still, however, has taken me a long time to get comfortable with.

Sitting is often a very difficult part of meditation

For many people, sitting is uncomfortable — because we’re tight in our legs, hamstrings, hip flexors, psoas, backs, and anywhere else we can think of. It’s hard to sit still if you’re uncomfortable. In the beginning, sitting still by myself for a minute was excruciating. For six months, I adapted and tried listening to meditation apps while in bed in the dark, lights out. I leaned back in a semi-reclined position with several pillows under my head and back, and put a pillow under my knees to prop my legs up and let my legs release.

Often, I’d fall asleep.

(And that’s just fine.)

Learning to meditation is about cultivating stillness, and in today’s hyper-connected world, stillness is more and more difficult.

This is why we practice.

Guides, teachers, and apps (yes, apps!) can all support your practice

Your mind is racing, thinking, jumping from one thought to the next. We busy ourselves with thoughts, becoming those thoughts, following our impulses without a whim or a second analysis.

We’re mostly unaware of what our minds are doing; we’re subjects to our habits, at the mercy of the ups and downs of our minds.

Guided meditations, practitioners, and sessions can help. I highly recommend Headspace (The first ten sessions are free; then you can buy it for $10-$15/month, depending on your subscription). The guided meditations are perfect for me, and keep me just focused enough to not wander off. In addition, Andy (the mediation guide and creator of Headspace), teaches you all about what meditation is. Part of the confusion of getting started is not knowing what to do — he walks you through with animations and 10, 15, and 20-minute sessions.

It’s called a practice, not a destination, not a goal

Meditation is a practice. This year, my goal is to do 100 sessions, which comes out to about one session every three or four days. Even finding 15 minutes every few days can be hard for me to do.

It usually ends up that I do a streak of a few weeks with sessions almost every day, and then fall off the wagon for a few weeks. So it goes, and I keep coming back. Just a little bit, here or there.

My life reminds me when I need to get back, because I get sick, or tired, or sad, and I realize — huh, I haven’t taken time to rest my mind lately.

And I open up the app, and I start again.

We’re all beginners, and to practice is to learn

Meditation is about practicing a new skill, perhaps a skill your brain is not very comfortable with yet: for me, I had to learn how to focus my attention, to find deliberate concentration, to watch my thoughts without becoming them or reacting to them.

It isn’t a skill that’s learned in one day, or thirty days. It can take hundreds and hundreds of days, just like learning to play the piano or learning how to use the computer can take so long to train. And because meditation is often related to un-learning our unconcious habits and patterns, it can take a long time to feel like you’re moving anywhere. And that’s okay.

Some days meditation makes me so angry

Meditation is about becoming aware of what’s inside of you, not judging it or eliminating it. Some mornings it’s all I can do to sit through the 15-minute practice, and if I’m being honest, some mornings I get eight minutes into it and I just can’t anymore. I’m too itchy inside to get to my email, too hot and bothered by something, to ready to fire a response, to get outside, to get moving. As someone who loves to go-go-go, I am fascinated by how much I leap up and just get started — finding the peacefulness of sitting still is my challenge.

(In Ayurvedic terms, I’m Vata-Pitta, and I live in New York. So this makes sense).

And it’s still okay. The meditation app helps me notice. Notice, briefly, that I’m itchy and crawling and wanting to move, and carrying a body of emotions around with me, and that stress is building up, and I see it. It’s there. That’s what’s inside me.

That’s the whole point. That’s where I am right now. It’s just me, noticing. A new shadow or layer or insight at a time. These are the feelings that are swimimng around, within, on me. Here we are.

Where I began

I started trying meditation a few years after I graduated from college, and what I did was put a yoga mat next to my bed. In the mornings, I tried rolling out of bed, and sitting still on the mat, just breathing and counting. Some mornings I would count to ten, some mornings I would sit for five or ten minutes.

Through it, I started watching my morning thoughts rise to the surface. How was I waking up in the morning? What was I worried about? What had I carried throughout the night and brought to my next day? What was I going to get started on?

The simple act of paying attention showed me where I was, and how much my mind was racing.

Over time, I began adding more to my evening practice, and showing up to guided meditations at my local yoga studios.

Meditation helps me learn how to say no

Pausing and saying no to your impulses — an impulse to check email, to respond rapidly — helps me learn how to lean in to the bigger picture and say no more readily throughout the rest of the day. Even five minutes in the morning lets me relax in the day and lean back and say, “You know what? I don’t need to respond to these emails right now. They can pile up and I’ll hit them in a batch again tomorrow. I can be done, for right now.”

Email is a never-ending avalanche of requests that we’ll never be able to quell. As I’ve changed my roles and responsibilities in the various companies I work for, I notice that email comes faster, more urgently, and I can either panic and try to save them all, or I can lean out and recognize that this is just a stream of information, and do my best to go fishing in it strategically. No one ever died being happy they answered every email they ever got.

Meditation comes into my life slowly

The awkwardness of a new habit can slow down progress. For me, finding the place, the routine — it took a while. Did I plop a pillow down in our bedroom under the window? Or in a chair next to my desk? Or how about on the couch?

After sorting and stumbling around many iterations, I’ve found a few peaceful places that work for me. One is lying on my back, pillow under my knees, in bed. Why? Because I’ll actually do it, and that’s what matters. Listening to a meditation guide at 9PM as I’m nearing bed is a way to wind down the day.

My other spot is actually sitting against my dresser, pillow flopped from the bed onto the floor, back supported. Alex will leave and I’ll close the door, telling him not to come in for 15 minutes if he can help it.

Meditation became such a gift (and yet it’s still so hard to do)

It took a very long time for me to find the joy and peacefulness that other people described as happening inside of meditation. Mostly, it was frustrating for me, and I found that I got up after 2 minutes, 5 minutes, even 8 minutes into a 15-minute practice. Just a few minutes at a time was all I could do, and it took many months to get comfortable with that.

Practices ebb and flow

If I’ve learned one thing by studying the meta-patterns of my life, it’s that I work in quarters (or seasons), and some are more “on” than others. I fall into a rhythm of doing something for a few months, then resting for a few months, then reigniting a practice.

My practice is steady for a month or two, and then it becomes heavy, burdensome, or difficult — and I relax. And then I need it again. From writing, to connecting with people, to making progress on a project, to creating a meditation practice in my life, it comes and goes. With every ebb and flow, however, it stays a bit longer, becomes a bit more familiar.

Find a special place to practice

Buy a pillow, make a shrine, tell your partner or your roommates that you’re going to try sitting still for 10 minutes, and you’d appreciate being undisturbed. The first time is uncomfortable, or it can be blissful. Sometimes, you surprise yourself. Like any practice, the more you practice, the better it gets and the easier it gets. For the longest time I thought meditation was a fancy state of mind that I’d never be able to achieve.

Now I (think) I understand that it’s a practice.

Everything worth doing takes practice.

Life is all a practice, anyways.

It was early evening, just after the sun set, around 7 PM on Fall night in Brooklyn. My husband and I were walking through the crowds outside of Atlantic Terminal.

I saw a young woman, walking alone, get approached by a man with a clipboard. “Heyyy!” he said, “Do you know about …” The sound drifted off, we were mixed together in the crowd. From a few feet away, it looked like he was another young activist, approaching street-goers.

Then something inside me perked up, started listening, alert.

“No thanks,” the young woman said, and kept walking. At 6’4” or taller, the man stood easily a foot over her. He strode quickly and looped around in front of her, placing his body in her path,

“What,” he said, more aggressively. “You don’t want to do this?”

His insults turned aggressive and derogatory. The clipboard began to look like a prop, a flimsy excuse for a street pitch of inappropriate measures. He was inviting her to something — propositioning her to join something? — and began saying more alarming things to her. My ears caught drift of a proposition based on her looks,

“You’d be perfect for this, you have just the right type of body…”

“You can’t tell me you’ve never done something like this before…”

Everything in my body said make it stop.

I looked over at the woman who was trying to walk, clearly uncomfortable, and as a pedestrian, from three feet away, I asked her:

“Do you know this man?”

No, she shook her head.

“Do you want him to leave you alone?”

She nodded, shielding her eyes from him. She was clearly trying to ignore him and walk away, hoping to avoid an altercation. Perhaps by not paying attention, she wouldn’t have to deal with it much longer. (I know this technique all too well.)

Hundreds of people were streaming by around us, oblivious, heading in their own directions, rushing in and out of Atlantic Terminal, headed on, headed home. There’s nothing like being lost in a crowd of thousands to feel helpless and alone.

I stopped and looked at the man and stood tall. “She’s not interested. You need to leave her alone.” I said, loudly, firmly. My tone takes on the same deep tone I’d use when giving a command to a puppy, or when setting a boundary that I need to make explicitly clear.

At first, he brushed me off and ignored me. He kept circling around, stopping the woman, getting in front of her, petitioning her.

“You need to leave her alone. She said no, thank you.” I said again, as clearly and loudly as I could.

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, stepping back slightly, looking at me as though I were inconsequential.

“Are you two even together?” He looked back and forth between the two of us, looking for confirmation of my involvement. He thought he was targeting a single woman, alone on the streets. Were there two of us?

Then he noticed my man to the side, and looked at him, “Wait, are you all together?” He looked dubious.

My husband nodded, not speaking. (He told me later he was curious why the man looked over to him first to find approval, male to male, versus listening to me. He didn’t want to speak up and voice power unless he had to — the real truth is in listening to women’s voices. I am grateful to him).

I looked at the woman and said discreetly, “Walk with us.”

We walked together for the rest of the length of the block, the main trailing, trying again, and then eventually falling off.

“Where are you heading?” I asked quietly. “Are you crossing up here?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Great, we’ll cross with you. Just keep walking with us.”

We walked together until we were out of the crowd and in the clear. “Are you all good to go on your way?”

“Yes, thanks.” she said, gratefully.

Helping other women, other people.

Women (as well as men, but much more frequently women) are subject to harassment, unwanted attention, violence (and more) on a daily basis. This goes beyond just women and applies to POC, LGTBQ individuals, and many more groups of people not in power — but today, I’ll address women.

Please note: From my experience, this is what I’ve learned about standing up for people and becoming allies and advocates in a crowd. I am very open to conversation about this, for outreach, for comment, and to learn about better resources from people trained in what to do in situations like this. I offer the following as my own practice, for your consideration.

Also, it needs to be added: take care of your own safety first. Put your life-jacket on, so to speak. If you need help, call for help — shout “FIRE” or dial 911 for assistance.

1. Look around. Be aware. Notice what’s happening around you.

Be an advocate, an ally, a friend.

First step: notice what’s happening all around you. Just because it isn’t happening to you doesn’t mean it’s not happening. According to some statistics, 65% of women experience street harassment, and 20% of all women have experienced being followed. This isn’t a rare thing — this is a thing, that’s happening.

Our first step is to be aware. When you’re checking your phone or checking out on the subway, there are things happening all around you that aren’t wanted or welcome. People are harassed next to you every single day.

Once I started becoming more aware, I couldn’t close my eyes to it anymore. I started seeing it everywhere.

2. Ask the woman directly if she knows the person, wants the attention, or needs help.

Before standing up to the aggressor or escalating any situation, I approach the woman first. Ask them if they know the person. Ask them if they are okay. Ask them if they’d like help. It seems brave to reach in and defend someone, but first — check in with them.

Try it:

“Do you know this person?”

“Are you okay with this situation?”

“Is this making you uncomfortable?”

“Are you alright?”

“Would you like any help?”

In my opinion, the first person to speak to is the woman, not the aggressor. In my experience, make contact, connection, and stand as an ally (or accomplice) with the person who needs help. Let them know that you are here with them, and you’re here to help.

3. Say No, loudly, clearly, and firmly.

After establishing a connection with the person you are helping, — and this is up to you and your level of advocacy — say no. Say no, loudly, clearly, and firmly.

We don’t always set boundaries in our culture, and people think a “maybe” means “yes” and a “no” means “maybe.” Speak in your yoga voice or your dog-training voice. It’s not yelling, but it’s firm, it’s loud, it’s clear, and it’s direct. (Yoga teacher training and watching friends who are parents has taught me a lot about being firm and direct with your voice.)

“Sir/Mister/Ma’am — This is not okay. We’d like you to stop.”

“This is not okay. You need to stop.”

Repeat yourself if necessary. It’s okay for someone to hear the word NO. Sometimes it takes a few tries to have someone hear you.

When a man says something lewd towards a woman, feel free to speak up. “Not cool, man,” is good feedback if you see something inappropriate. “Hey, don’t do that, be nice!” is good feedback. Any type of feedback, awareness, speaking up, and helping is good.

4. Leave.

Do not stay around.

There is no need to escalate the situation, or make it worse. Aggression on aggression doesn’t solve the problem.

My aim is awareness, and to reach out and help those who need it. My prayer is that if ever I am in need of help, a passerby will step in and say, “do you need help?” This is the world that I want to live in.

Hearing “no” from someone can be disconcerting and uncomfortable. That can be enough of a disruption for someone who is typically an aggressor. Since you don’t know who they are or how they will respond, it’s not up to us to stick around and try to change their minds or force them to behave in a certain way (nor can we).

What we can do is help each other, and be very clear about what our boundaries are.

Final notes.

I can’t be silent anymore about these issues. It’s happening around us on a daily basis. Yesterday, I watched a grocery store clerk — my neighbor — get harassed by a drunk, lewd man.

I stood up for her using the pattern above — and the man, upon noticing me and hearing me, turned towards me and began attacking me verbally:

“You must be a LONELY ASS WOMAN,” he said, learing at me. “Why you gotta speak up like this, you must be SO SAD AND SO LONELY.”

“You probably have no one who loves you, do you.”

These calls for help, these shouts, this behavior is indicative of so much pain happening in the lives around us. There are deeper issues going on here, around sadness, depression, attention, fear, loneliness. He wanted to incite me, and I didn’t want to engage.

This is not the way to gather attention.

“Be Kind,” I said, loudly and firmly.

“I am asking you to be kind to your fellow human beings. I don’t like the language you are using and I think it’s inappropriate. Please be KIND to your FELLOW HUMAN BEINGS.”

I could have stayed and asked the grocery store clerk to attend to the man.

Instead, I set the boundary, stood up for someone, and then exited, quietly. I never know if I’m doing the right thing, but I can’t be silent anymore.

I left the grocery store in the dark, 8PM on a Saturday night, and called my husband immediately. “I just stood up to an aggressor in the grocery store and I’m coming home, and I need to let you know he might be following me.” The man left the store and walked down the street towards me. I was two blocks from home, but turned around to be sure I wasn’t followed.

“Please come out and meet me,” I asked.

If Alex weren’t there, I had already identified several street-goers to ask for help, and picked out a local store to walk into if I didn’t feel safe going home — (it’s not always wise to have an aggressor follow you back home and know where you live).

Luckily, he didn’t follow me home, and Alex met me halfway.

“Alex — I can’t help it,” I said. “I can’t be silent about this anymore. These are big issues, but I can’t not speak up. I have to say something.

“I know that puts me at risk, but I think your wife is becoming an activist.”

What do we do?

There are deeper issues at hand (and mind), and I don’t want to fight aggression with aggression. The first step is awareness, the next step, I think, is some sort of action (or discomfort). I want to engage at the level where I alert everyone involved that (1) what is being done is not okay, and people can give loud, clear feedback about that; and (2) that people are here and willing to stand up for each other.

But where does it come from? The man was quite literally out of his mind, and looked as though he were performing a behavior that had be rehearsed over and over again, and had no clue (or awareness) of what he was doing. Was I right to intervene? What will happen next? Am I putting myself in more and more danger? Does it matter?

There are deeper, more difficult problems of anger and violence — of cultural norms that expect women to be invisible and silent, of a language that allows for violence in even the words we choose to use towards each other.

I am here, I am willing, I am learning.

We need to speak up.

I want to speak up.