Sounds like a great habit. If you're interested in advice, here's mine, although it might not be so much advice as just general thoughts...
You should be clear about the fact that meditation, for most people, seems to be very difficult. But I purposely say "seems," because it's not difficult in the same sense that lifting a heavy weight is difficult. It's more like how it's difficult to quit smoking when there's a pack of cigarettes in front of you.
Meditation, to some first approximation at least, is about simplifying one's mental activity. Attenuating the internal monologue or at least having a less obsessive relation to it. And acquiring a critical distance from desire, anger, and other phenomena that we tend to get caught in.
When the loopy chaos of thought-proliferation subsides, you begin to see some very interesting aspects of the mind (or of consciousness, of the present moment, whatever you call it). Buddhist philosophy puts a lot of emphasis on the nature of desire and the ways in which the mind is disturbed.
But the difficulty is that when you're sitting there with your mind fully available, it's extremely tempting to wander into thoughts. And once you notice this, of course, you begin to think about not thinking. Think about how you shouldn't be thinking. And so on ad nauseum. This is all just so much chatter and you shouldn't take it seriously. Not taking it seriously -- not grasping onto it -- is crucial. That means not beating yourself up over it.
The catchphrase in contemporary meditation instruction is "just return to the practice." And it can sometimes sound like a stupefying dogma. "Just sit," and so on. But there's a crucial truth in it.
It's kind of like running. At first it's just painful, tedious, and you feel clumsy and unfit. It's supposed to make you feel good, and sometimes it does, but it's also a chore and something you often really don't feel like doing. But after a while you start to understand more about it, understand your own limits, understand how to do it in a way that's functional for you. And then it kind of "opens up."
Running and other physical exercise has more of an obvious external reference point. It's easier to "return to the practice" when you've got your running shoes on and you're actually taking step after step. In meditation, this is one reason why posture is emphasized. Maintaining a good posture -- in addition to its more obvious benefits -- is also a kind of physical reminder of the mental meditation. And the breath provides something like the steps in running.
So a widely recommended strategy is to begin with a simple breath-counting style of meditation, perhaps sitting in the seiza posture, or one of the lotus postures if you're up for it, or simply in a chair with your back straight. There's plenty of decent instructions available on the internet, although it helps in countless and immense ways to have face-to-face instruction and to sit together with others.
You should be clear about the fact that meditation, for most people, seems to be very difficult. But I purposely say "seems," because it's not difficult in the same sense that lifting a heavy weight is difficult. It's more like how it's difficult to quit smoking when there's a pack of cigarettes in front of you.
Meditation, to some first approximation at least, is about simplifying one's mental activity. Attenuating the internal monologue or at least having a less obsessive relation to it. And acquiring a critical distance from desire, anger, and other phenomena that we tend to get caught in.
When the loopy chaos of thought-proliferation subsides, you begin to see some very interesting aspects of the mind (or of consciousness, of the present moment, whatever you call it). Buddhist philosophy puts a lot of emphasis on the nature of desire and the ways in which the mind is disturbed.
But the difficulty is that when you're sitting there with your mind fully available, it's extremely tempting to wander into thoughts. And once you notice this, of course, you begin to think about not thinking. Think about how you shouldn't be thinking. And so on ad nauseum. This is all just so much chatter and you shouldn't take it seriously. Not taking it seriously -- not grasping onto it -- is crucial. That means not beating yourself up over it.
The catchphrase in contemporary meditation instruction is "just return to the practice." And it can sometimes sound like a stupefying dogma. "Just sit," and so on. But there's a crucial truth in it.
It's kind of like running. At first it's just painful, tedious, and you feel clumsy and unfit. It's supposed to make you feel good, and sometimes it does, but it's also a chore and something you often really don't feel like doing. But after a while you start to understand more about it, understand your own limits, understand how to do it in a way that's functional for you. And then it kind of "opens up."
Running and other physical exercise has more of an obvious external reference point. It's easier to "return to the practice" when you've got your running shoes on and you're actually taking step after step. In meditation, this is one reason why posture is emphasized. Maintaining a good posture -- in addition to its more obvious benefits -- is also a kind of physical reminder of the mental meditation. And the breath provides something like the steps in running.
So a widely recommended strategy is to begin with a simple breath-counting style of meditation, perhaps sitting in the seiza posture, or one of the lotus postures if you're up for it, or simply in a chair with your back straight. There's plenty of decent instructions available on the internet, although it helps in countless and immense ways to have face-to-face instruction and to sit together with others.
Best wishes!