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I sat in our sharing circle in the shala in Bali, listening to my fellow Yoga Teacher Training students reflect on our latest 20-minute meditation. 

I didn’t realize then that I wasn’t struggling with meditation, but struggling to mediate it.

“Oh, I just feel so enlightened.”

“My mind feels so clear.”

“I’m so much calmer and focused now.”

“I feel lighter. Re-energized. What a difference.”

The revelations and transformations kept coming.

When it got to me, I had nothing.

I wasn’t even sure what I was supposed to be sharing. 

—————

The meditation was simple – one word, repeated for 20 minutes. A word meaning I am.

On the first day, I shared openly that I was focusing on “I am walking.”

That thought carried me. I walked through places I’d been, toward people I loved, through quiet, beautiful spaces. There were no conversations, no complexities — just walking and calm. I felt grounded. Clear. Present.

I shared what I experienced.

The response made it feel like I had done everything wrong. Like I had failed. Failed meditation. I’d never failed anything. 

————–

I’d meditated before. Taken classes from many instructors in many countries. I’d found some paths that worked for me.

But I felt guilty of noncompliance. 

So I complied.

I followed the prescribed script of “ahum.” No deviations. 

Twice a day. Twenty minutes each time.

Each time, I felt…nothing. Worse – I felt resistance. Agitation. Like I was wasting time. 

I was confused. 

Yoga teaches us movement can be adapted to every body. Meditation is a personal experience – couldn’t meditation be adapted to every mind?

I wasn’t resisting the practice – I was trying to find a way to mediate it.

————–

I knew I could access meditative states. 

I’ve spent days walking across the United Kingdom – 12 hours passing without a single remembered thought.

I’ve lost myself in the London Times’ Latin crossword, focused so fully that everything else disappears.

I’ve listened to books in other languages, my mind resting in a different way of thinking, free of English.

Those are meditative for me.

But this method wasn’t. 

————–

Still, I kept complying. 

Forty minutes a day of something that didn’t work – for me.

After each session, I continued to listen as others described their transformation.

When asked how it was for me, I settled on the only neutral answer I had: “….it was 20 minutes long.”

I didn’t want to diminish the experiences of my new friends.

But I also couldn’t deny mine.

——————-

“Do you feel more calm?” I was queried. 

I hesitated. “No.” 

“But don’t you feel like you cleared your mind?”, they retorted. 

“Not at all.”

It felt restrictive. I could feel the negativity building – not just in me, but radiating outward.

But when I returned to “I am walking,” everything shifted.

I felt energized. Rejuvenated. Clear.

—————-

I know my meditation may sound overwhelming to others. Walking 20 miles a day. Listening to audio books in foreign languages. Doing the London Times’ weekly Latin crossword.

But just as I understood their meditation didn’t work for me, I hoped mine didn’t have to work for them.

When I shared my experiences, they looked at me just as puzzled as I had looked at them.

—————

I continued like this for about a week. Forty minutes a day.

The weight of it grew heavy. I could feel the negativity of this practice building and spreading.

I started to feel guilty – for bringing that energy into the room. 

I knew this wasn’t productive. 

And my obsession with compliance felt selfish.

—————–

So I stopped complying. Quietly. 

I chose a different focus and repeated my own mantras: 

“I send you clarity and focus. I send you clarity and focus.” 

I repeated it over and over.

It flowed easily. It felt expansive. The time passed quickly.

It felt truly meditative. 

——————

I was ready to explain myself. To admit what I had done.

But we stopped sharing. No one asked me and I welcomed not having to share.

—————-

Later, I researched meditation.

I learned there wasn’t one way of doing it. There were countless ways.

Different approaches are essential to support different people – and even at different moments. 

I hadn’t failed meditation. I had just learned what didn’t work for me – and what did. 

——————

Now, eight months into teaching yoga, I’ve volunteered to lead a monthly meditation class.

Not to teach one way – but to hold space for many.