After 50 years of wrestling words onto paper, I've tried every writer's trick in the book, and burnout is a real possibility. Writing sprints, fancy apps, standing desks, those ridiculous "morning pages" (which, frankly, felt like psychological torture before coffee). But meditation? Isn't that for people who burn incense (makes me sneeze) and speak in whispers about "finding their center?"
Nope. Meditation is not a hip fad for me. I never use the word "Namaste." My meditation practice is a solid, necessary part of my day and my life.
What the heck am I going on about?
Here's what actually happens when you sit still for ten minutes before you write. Your brain stops ping-ponging between that overdue article, your grocery list, and whether you remembered to pay the electric bill. Instead of staring at a blank page while your mind races like a caffeinated squirrel, you show up to write.
I discovered this during one of those hellish project phases (you know the ones—you nearly divorce your partner over font choices). My stress levels had reached the point where I couldn't string together a coherent sentence, let alone a paragraph. My Buddhist nun friend encouraged me to get more consistent with my meditation. I figured I had nothing left to lose except my sanity, which was already circling the drain.
The mechanics are simpler than you think
You don't need apps or gongs or special cushions. Just sit somewhere quiet, close your eyes, and pay attention to your breathing. When your mind wanders (and it will --- mine usually detours through my entire to-do list twice), gently bring your attention back to your breath. That's it.
The magic happens in that gentle returning. You notice your mind has wandered, you bring it back—you're strengthening your ability to focus. It's like doing bicep curls for your attention span.
Feel the cool air at the bottom of your nose as you inhale slowly. Watch the breath cycle through your nose, throat, into your lungs, expanding your diaphragm, then back through the same path and out your nose, where the air now feels warmed by your body as you exhale.
After a few weeks of this simple practice, something shifted. I could sit down to write and actually write instead of checking email, reorganizing my desk, or suddenly deciding the baseboards needed cleaning. My thoughts became clearer, organized. The words flow instead of trickling.
The real payoff for writers
Monkey mind: My Buddhist sangha tells me "monkey mind" is the restless, unsettled, and easily distracted nature of the human mind. It's characterized by a constant stream of thoughts, emotions, and sensations tangling together. Picture a troupe of monkeys jumping around, shrieking, chattering. That's me without my ten minutes of meditation a day.
Meditation doesn't turn you into a prolific genius overnight (wouldn't that be nice?). The practice creates space between you and the constant mental chatter that keeps you from doing your best work. You become less reactive to that inner critic who insists everything you write is garbage.
After decades of fighting my own brain, I finally found a way to work with it instead of against it. Ten minutes of sitting still gives me hours of focused writing time. Not a bad trade-off.
Meditate, then write🧘✍️
Love this! I instantly recognized myself as one with "Monkey Brain" and immediately visualized throwing poo on the computer screen.
The title is wonderful and memorable. I plan to use it as my reminder to give myself this ten minutes of calm. Thank you!