I am not a yoga master. I know few people who claim to be and fewer still who truly are. But I have found some tricks and techniques along the way that have worked, at least for me. And these I feel pleased to be able to share.
Meditation is one of them. Many people will tell you what meditation is and is not, and how to do it. Some say that how you sit, which foot is placed in front of which, is crucial. Others say that what you are looking at with your eyes is important. Still others will recommend a mantra or a mental activity to repeat or a particular mental focus to maintain.
Having experimented with most of these techniques I have found them all to be effective and have pared them down to a simple practice that I follow. Some would say that what I practice is not meditation at all. And I would agree. What I practice is doing nothing.

Why practice doing nothing? Because our consciousness is suffocated with thought. Because the constant schedule which we run our lives on is stifling and because the view that time is an absolute, Newtonian parameter which exists outside of us and which we are dependent on, is false.
Time is brought about by consciousness. Time changes as consciousness changes. If you’re bored time can seem to stand still. If you are involved in an engaging activity time can fly by or even disappear.
And so it is, I think, only healthy to take a break from our perception of time. To sit down and stop doing whatever we are doing, and stop thinking all the thoughts that seem so important.
I find that the best place to do this is outside, in nature. It may be a forest or it may be your balcony but the fresh air and the sense of being outside your created environment already disconnects us from some of our habituated thought patterns.
I like to sit still for about half an hour like this and just hold empty space in my consciousness. Daniel Odier refers to meditation as “silently guarding the empty temple” and I resonate deeply with this metaphor. I disagree with the rigidity taught in some zen schools. I like to sit comfortably on the ground or in a chair, scratch and occasionally look around and not be too concerned with getting caught up in the structure of what I am doing. The point is to not think, or not allow thoughts to develop momentum. If you find you are following a train of thought just let it go and come back to the empty mind.
You will find that this “empty mind” is anything but empty. Our thoughts are but the crudest models of the world we know. As such they misrepresent it grossly. When we dispel the illusion of thought (it is a useful tool when skillfully and judiciously applied) we find a richness of consciousness not a derth.
I feel that the progressive removal of people from nature (into routines, into white boxes and straight roads, and onto the virtual “realities” of various flatscreen repeating images) moves us into decreasingly complex world-views. As objects lose their idiosyncrasies so do people. Our world becomes made of repeating types, brands. Sense becomes just a trigger rather than a texture. Ultimately I think this leads to insanity on a cultural or individual level. The complex beauty of the mind broken from its mirror in the complex beauty of the natural world begins to create its own complexity in illusion and neurosis and paranoia.
That said it doesn’t take a whole lot of nature to reverse the process. A plant, gazed at fondly, a cloud-view, awareness of one’s own body. These can awaken this deeper, richer consciousness that is within us at all times. If these in-sights appear profound it can only be because we have disconnected from our natural state of awareness. In the tantric view of yoga we are not seeking states of consciousness that lie outside of us, rather we are deepening our awareness of those quiet, profound states, or more accurately, processes, of consciousness that have always been with us.
