I Get Crazy A Lot...And That's Why I Meditate

My sleepy little beach town of Panama City Beach, tucked along the panhandle of Florida, has suddenly turned into a bustling spring break destination.

Masses of college students and families have descended upon what I had been experiencing as a place of quiet solitude.

My daily walks with my pup Oakley are no longer along peaceful streets. Now they’re filled with people from all over the world. Houses that sat empty a week ago are suddenly alive with splashes from swimming pools and kids squealing with laughter. Restaurants that once had open tables now have long lines stretching out the door.

If I’m honest, a part of me misses the quiet.

I miss the empty roads.

The still mornings.

The silence.

But I’m learning something important during this busy season.

Meditation is not just something we practice when life is quiet.

It’s something we practice in the middle of the noise.

Meditation Off the Cushion

I would consider myself a pretty experienced meditator. I can sit in stillness for two or even three hours at a time.

But the real practice has never been sitting on the cushion.

The real practice is staying calm when life gets loud.

Can I keep that same inner stillness when the world around me becomes chaotic?

That has been my lifelong challenge.

And lately, I’ve been experimenting with something that is changing everything for me.

I was listening to a podcast from The Wisdom of Paramahansa Yogananda, and the monk speaking shared an image that struck me deeply.

He said an iceberg only reveals about 10% of itself above the water.The other 90% remains hidden beneath the surface.

He suggested that our awareness should function the same way.

Keep 90% of our attention inward, anchored in Spirit.

Only 10% outward, interacting with the world.

At first that sounded radical.

But the more I practice it, the more peace I feel walking through daily life.

I’m less pulled around by every distraction, every sound, every person walking by, every barking dog.

I still notice everything.

But I’m not thrown off center by it.

It’s as if meditation is slowly moving with me into the world.

Of course, I’m doing this less than perfectly.

But I’m climbing the mountain one step at a time.

Practicing Presence on the Golf Range

Yesterday I was at the golf range practicing.

The place was busy, but I was in a good groove. Focused. Calm.

The guy next to me started talking, which I engaged in politely, but then gently returned to my practice.

And then that guy showed up.

You know the one.

The guy who feels like everyone at the range needs to hear his music.

He set up about twenty yards away, but his speaker was loud enough that the entire range could hear his old-school 60’s music blasting across the practice tee.

Now, don’t get me wrong.

I like music.

But when I’m practicing golf, there is one sound I love above all others.

The crisp click of the golf ball meeting the sweet spot of the club.

That sound is magic.

When you hit it perfectly, the feeling travels through your entire body. It’s one of the purest sensations in the game.

And suddenly this guy’s music was drowning it out.

I could feel my agitation start to rise.

Then I paused.

And I made a decision.

I was not going to let someone else pull me out of my center.

So I surrendered to it.

I went back to my practice, feeling each swing, listening internally rather than externally.

And something interesting happened.

As I stayed inwardly focused, I actually became more aware of everything happening around me.

Not distracted.

Just present.

A Boy Sitting Still

This morning I was walking Oakley along the beach boardwalk.

Spring break energy was everywhere — bikes rolling past, music playing from restaurants, kids running along the sand.

And then I noticed something that stopped me.

A boy, maybe thirteen years old, was sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk next to the boardwalk.

Right there in the middle of all the activity.

His eyes were closed.

His hands rested gently on his knees.

Thumb touching index finger in the classic meditation pose.

I slowed down.

He can’t be meditating… can he?

There was too much going on around him.

And he was just a kid.

Curious, I walked a little closer.

A dog barked nearby and his eyes opened. When he saw me approaching, he quickly stood up, looking a little embarrassed that someone had noticed him.

I smiled and asked him, “Were you meditating?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s awesome,” I said. “I meditate too. Did your parents teach you how?”

He shook his head. “No. I learned it from Kung Fu Panda. They meditate on that show.”

I had to laugh.

I’m a little out of touch with that movie, but when I got home I looked it up.

Sure enough.

Meditation lessons from Kung Fu Panda.

But the best part of our interaction came as I started to walk away.

He looked at me and said something so honest, so innocent, that it stopped me in my tracks.

He said, “I get crazy a lot, and that’s why I meditate.”

I smiled and said, “Me too.”

And that was the end of our conversation.

The Medicine for the Crazy

As I walked away, I couldn’t stop smiling.

There was something beautiful about the simplicity of what he said.

“I get crazy a lot.”

Don’t we all?

The more I meditate, the less crazy I feel.

Not because the world becomes quieter.

But because something inside me becomes calmer.

I’m beginning to understand what Jesus meant when he spoke about the peace that passes understanding.

It’s a peace that isn’t dependent on circumstances.

It’s something we discover within ourselves.

And once we touch that peace, even briefly, we can begin to carry it with us into the world, without losing ourselves in the noise.

If It’s Good Enough for Kung Fu Panda

That boy inspired me.

I couldn’t help but think, what if someone had taught me to meditate when I was thirteen?

Right around the time my own life started to go a little off the rails.

Puberty hit.

Acne covered my face.

Testosterone was raging through my system and I had no idea how to channel that energy.

To borrow that boy’s words, “I got crazy a lot.”

Meditation might have helped.

Actually, I know it would have.

But here’s the beautiful thing.

It’s never too late.

Meditation is a beautiful way to deal with the crazy.

And if I’m honest, I still get crazy sometimes too.

But a little less than before.

And maybe that’s the real gift of meditation.

Not that the world becomes quieter.

But that something inside of us does.

So if it’s good enough for Kung Fu Panda, it’s good enough for me.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time to go sit on my cushion.

Care to join me?