Written by Jen Liu

“Experiencing resistance to meditation is an aspect of the journey, not a malfunction of it. If we set the intention to explore meditation as a committed and sustained practice, investigating the fear that surrounds it is precisely the means by which many precious insights will reveal themselves. By facing those difficulties with a warrior spirit, we come to discover that within every fear lies the chance to become fearless.”

For beginners and long-time practitioners alike, it's common to struggle with feelings of being afraid of meditating. The resistance that crops up when we prepare to slow down for those twenty or so minutes can be intensely affecting, and even linger throughout the meditation itself. What is at the root of this feeling?

There are as many unique answers to this question as there are meditators in the world, but we can look at some shared fears and aversions that touch many of us. For one, the silence can be deafening. We hardly notice it until we slow down enough and tune out the usual noise of life to make space for it. But once we do, the cacophony inside our heads can be overwhelming and unsettling, especially when it's not being drowned out by the constant stimulation of media and technology.

Meditating in silence pushes us beyond the comfort zone that background noise provides. In doing so, it can dredge up discomfort that isn't as present when listening to a podcast, reading a book, or talking to a friend on the phone — activities which offer us a sense of companionship, whether the company is tangible or imagined. Silent meditation, while uncomfortable at times, offers us access to a clarity and contemplative potential that is difficult to achieve amidst so much noise. For this reason, becoming more familiar with quietude is just as important and strength-building as it is scary.

Meditation can also unearth difficult emotions as we are shocked awake into the realization that we may not know ourselves as completely or clearly as we thought. Like taking a cold plunge into an ice bath, it's natural to feel a sense of dread as we brace ourselves for the impact — even if we know it's good for us! It's natural to feel vulnerability, frustration, and even sadness as we shed old, habitual ways of understanding and rub up against the friction of learning to be more mindful in all our perfect imperfection.

Instead of taking these murmurings of fear as warning signs, we can see them as calls to action. They invite us to become brave explorers on the adventure of self-inquiry, wielding our intrinsic curiosity as an antidote to ignorance.

Experiencing resistance to meditation is an aspect of the journey, not a malfunction of it. If we set the intention to explore meditation as a committed and sustained practice, investigating the fear that surrounds it is precisely the means by which many precious insights will reveal themselves. By facing those difficulties with a warrior spirit, we come to discover that within every fear lies the chance to become fearless.