Shared by Chris. I’ve been reflecting on my meditation practice lately and wanted to share some specifics that have evolved over the years, in the hope that it might be helpful to others—or perhaps spark some suggestions for improvement.
Since I started attending regularly in 2019, a significant part of my journey has been about minimizing physical distractions during sittings. My goal has been to find a posture that allows my body to “disappear” so I can concentrate fully.
I’ve settled into what I’d call a semi-half-lotus posture on a lima bean-shaped cushion. I can get my left foot up onto my right calf, which feels stable and comfortable for extended periods. I once aspired to achieve the full lotus position—years ago, I was quite enthusiastic about it during my yoga practice—but after injuring my knee, I decided it wasn’t worth pursuing at the expense of my health.
Interestingly, when I switch and place my right foot over my left, my foot tends to fall asleep quickly. So, I usually stick with the left-over-right configuration, though sometimes I need to adjust midway through a session.
Regarding hand placement, I’ve deviated a bit from the traditional mudra. Instead, I interlace my fingers and keep my thumbs together. This allows me to apply gentle pressure with my forearms against my hips, which helps me maintain an erect posture and keeps my shoulder blades down.
When I first began meditating, I kept my eyes closed. However, I found that doing so introduced visual distractions—like flickering lights behind my eyelids—that pulled me away from focusing on my breath. Now, I keep my eyes just barely open, adopting a soft, unfocused gaze. This approach reduces visual input without the distractions that come with closed eyes, allowing me to concentrate more effectively.
Before sitting, I make sure to do some forward bends and twists to loosen up my body. This preparation helps me settle into my posture more comfortably and reduces tension.
Mentally, I follow the breath-counting method, counting from one to ten—inhaling on the odd numbers and exhaling on the even. To maintain focus, I employ a technique I developed: I imagine that my life depends on detecting the subtle sensation of a tiny grain of sand passing with each breath. This visualization heightens my vigilance and keeps my attention anchored to the inhalation and exhalation.
I also focus on my breathing technique. I take longer inhales and, on the exhale, I purse my lips slightly to create a soft sound. The combination of the auditory cue and the physical sensation of the pursed lips reinforces my focus on the breath and enhances the visualization of the grain of sand.
Overall, these adjustments have significantly improved my ability to minimize distractions and deepen my practice. I’m sharing these details in hopes that others might find some of these techniques useful. If you have any ideas or suggestions on how I might continue to refine my practice, I’d be grateful to hear them.
Hakone Zendo 