Personal Reflections on Mantra Meditation and Learning to Be Happy

Early in the process of learning mantra meditation--a practice in which the mind focuses internally on a special syllable, word, or phrase--I was taught that the meaning of my mantra would evolve with practice. This turned out to be true. At first, I was told very little about the mantra. I was told that the sanskrit word could be translated as beauty. I was encouraged to pursue the mantra's meaning in every way I could think of. I had a lot of fun googling my mantra on the internet. Seeing the word in different contexts added to its meaning. I found my mantra translated in different ways, other than beauty. I looked for the word in esoteric texts in the yoga, vedanta, and tantra sections of woo-woo bookstores. I learned that my mantra was held in high regard by master meditators. My intellectual understanding of the mantra grew. My respect for the mantra grew.

At the same time, I was focusing my mind on the mantra both during daily life--this is sometimes called japa--and during meditation practice. Many associations to the mantra came about through these practices. I recited the mantra when my mind was burdened, and the mantra had a focusing and calming effect. It was there like a friend, whenever I was in need. I listened for the mantra in meditation, and the mantra guided my scattered thoughts to an apprehension of peace and joy. The meaning of the mantra became very personal and rich. Today, the mantra sounds like a righteous sword unsheathing. I can feel it ringing in the depths of my whole being.  Every experience and new understanding has added meaning to the mantra. This deep relationship to mantra is one example of what I mean by learning to be happy. Happy and meaningful associations have clustered around something I intentionally make a central focus of my life.

This layering of meaning has taken place with other practices, too. It happened when I took up the practice of making gratitude lists. My first gratitude list was short, maybe two things, and I wasn't sure I meant it. My mind seemed eager to qualify my gratitude. The practice felt mechanical and shallow. I judged the practice to be inauthentic. Shouldn't gratitude just take a person over in the moment?  I stuck with it, anyway. One day I was doing an alphabetical gratitude list, internally. I had already done this a lot of times. A: I am grateful for air to breathe. B: I like butterflies. C: I am grateful for my cat. And I was kind of struck, all of a sudden. You know, I thought to myself, I really am grateful to my cat. She has given up every pleasure of natural catdom upon my whim to have a kitty. She has no cat friends, has had no babies, has spent her whole life in a little apartment, is always happy to see me. Hmmmm. You know what? I think I am really grateful for that cat. I just adore that cat! The gratitude felt good, and it felt true. The practice transformed as I realized that I am capable of real gratitude, and my appreciation of myself grew. I went back to A, and really felt grateful for the air that sustains my life. B: butterflies are really delightful, and I am truly grateful. The gratitude practice remained resonant and meaningful for me. Learning to focus my attention on the gratitude I already felt for my cat made me happier. Sometimes the gratitude wells up in me. However, I still find it very useful to direct my own thoughts toward gratitude intentionally.

When I was in high school, about 35 years ago, my stepfather, Jerald Forster, seemingly out of the blue, requested for his birthday one year that everyone at his party tell him something that we appreciate about him. In the language of strengths-focused coaching, he asked us to articulate his strengths. He also insisted that everyone give full attention to what each person said. This may have been my first exposure to being intentionally positive. I did not like it! My family was kind of witty and sarcastic. We tended to bond through excluding others, while maintaining a self-deprecating humor. We were funny and glib. It seemed to violate more than one cultural taboo to ask people to say something nice to you. So, we dealt with our discomfort by making fun of my stepfather. We said his stupid happy gene had run amok. (Why stupid and happy go together.... It makes no sense.) All the same, we did the exercise. We did it year after year, teasing him all the way, and as the years went by, he suggested we do it on the birthdays of other family members, too. Today, his grandchildren expect this to happen at their birthday parties. They look forward to hearing what each family member appreciates about them, and the practice evolved to include the birthday person restating the positive qualities they resonated with, and adding some of the qualities they appreciate in themselves. Through regular practice, and tolerating being laughed at, my stepfather changed the culture of my family. Finding the courage to break the taboos that kept me from experiencing and expressing respect and admiration in my relationships has made me a much happier person. It has made the people I relate to happier, too!

Click on the quotation below to read another reflection on learned happiness, this one courtesy of "the happiest man in the world."
“Our life can be greatly transformed by even a minimal change in how we manage our thoughts and perceive and interpret the world. Happiness is a skill. It requires effort and time.”