Jack Pembroke-Birss reflects on how meditation changed his life.

A barrister, solicitor, and academic walk into a bar. The solicitor is overworked and tired. He had shingles a few years before at the age of 36, and sometimes had heart palpitations related to stress.

“What do you do for stress management?,” he asked the academic. “I play soccer and cricket, and regularly go to the gym.” “What do you do?,” asked the academic. “Nothing really, I don’t have any time outside of work.”

“I meditate,” said the barrister.” “You meditate?!,” exclaimed the solicitor and academic. “Yes, twice a day for 20 minutes.” “You meditate for 40 minutes a day?!”, said the solicitor incredulously. “How do you have time to do that?!” The barrister looked the solicitor in the eye and said, “I don’t have time not to meditate.” And so began my journey as a meditator.

A few weeks later I was trained by a qualified teacher in Vedic meditation. The aim of Vedic meditation is to move the mind beyond thought. The technique is more than 5,000 years old and has its roots in the Vedic philosophy of India.

It is remarkably simple: sit in a chair, close your eyes, and repeat in your mind a mantra. The mantra is chosen by the teacher from one of thousands (and, before you ask, it’s never “Om”!). In Sanskrit, the word “man” means mind and “tra” means conveyance, like a vehicle. Mantra literally means “a vehicle of the mind.” As the mantra is repeated, the mind draws inward and eventually the mantra disappears and the mind is left with no mantra and no thought replacing it. The two daily meditations are usually done in the morning, just after waking, and sometime in the afternoon or early evening. I do my second meditation sitting at my desk shortly after lunch with my door closed and my shoes off (which might explain for some of you what I’m doing).

Vedic meditation is not mindfulness. In a way, it’s the opposite of mindfulness. The idea is not to focus on your mind, but to un-focus. And I can tell you, the brain loves it.

When meditating, thoughts come and go. The cycle of thinking and returning to the mantra requires no effort. The experience is deeply relaxing and creates a sense of bliss.

When I finish my afternoon meditation, it’s like I’ve rebooted the computer. My mind runs faster, there’s less background noise. I’ll sometimes have an epiphany during the meditation, and I use all of that to my advantage by tackling the more difficult things, like settling some advice, or working through a crunchy legal problem.

But like most meditators, the reason I meditate is not for the experience of the meditation itself. Rather, I do it for the benefits that it provides when I’m not meditating.

Meditation is a form of psychophysiological hygiene. It’s like brushing your teeth twice daily, but for your most precious asset – your mind.

When I started meditating, I noticed almost immediately that I was less stressed and could sleep better. In stark contrast to before I started meditating, I very rarely get stressed, and if I do, it doesn’t last long, and I bounce-back quickly.

Now that I have meditated for more than two and a half years, the quiet place I go to when I meditate is always there in the background, it’s always accessible. The inner quietness has seeped into daily life – I’m more present, I’m happier and I feel a stronger sense of compassion. But this is not unique to me. To the contrary, these experiences are universally reported by meditators.

Besides the day-to-day benefits, meditation has given me a sense of perspective that I didn’t have before. Perspective not only of time and place, but of relationships and meaningful and authentic interaction with the world. Like the barrister at the beginning of this story, now I too don’t have time not to meditate.

Meditation changed my life. So, should you meditate? Well, that’s a matter for you. If you’d like to know more, my door is always open (unless, of course, I’m meditating).