Meditation Between Breaths

Meditation comes in many shapes and shades. Each tradition, each school of thought, offers its own map. Some speak of a fixed number of practices, others of meditations that unfold in stages, like petals opening over time. The differences can be intriguing, yet also bewildering, as if one were standing before a vast forest of paths, each claiming to lead to the same clearing.

For me, the journey is simpler. I am a humble wanderer who finds joy in the small and ordinary: a bird’s call at dawn, the quiet steam of morning tea, the play of light through a window, water droplets on leaves after a drizzle. In these moments, I find my own form of meditation. And after much reading, and more importantly, much living, I have come to see it in just two gentle streams: Contemplation and Concentration.

When I ponder on a thought, think about it, dive into its depths, and try to understand its various aspects, I find myself in a zone that feels similar to meditation, though it is not exactly the kind of concentration people usually speak of. It is contemplation. Some authors have also included contemplation as a type of meditation, and in that sense, perhaps it overlaps.

This is what I do. When I go for a walk, when I sit under a tree gazing into the distance and thinking about something, when I read a book and pause to reflect on what I’ve read. These are all moments of contemplation for me. My partner often remarks how interesting it is that I read a book and then sit quietly for a while, as if slowly digesting what I’ve just read. That, for me, is contemplation.

In my daily life, I am usually occupied—reading books, learning new skills, or enjoying activities I love, such as photography, cooking, or listening to music. Sitting quietly to focus my mind is something I don’t often do anymore. There was a time when I did. I would close my eyes and simply listen to the sounds around me, becoming aware of every detail, every subtle movement in the air. Sometimes I would focus so intently that all thoughts would fade away. In those moments, I would lose track of time and even lose awareness of my surroundings. It’s a difficult experience to put into words, but when it happens, it feels almost surreal. These days, I usually find this kind of meditation when I visit a temple in the region and spend unhurried time sitting within its quiet premises.

For me, whether I am contemplating or concentrating, the sensations of my body and the influence of my surroundings whether it’s the warmth of the sun, the chill of mountain air, the patter of rain, or the stillness of a heatwave, gradually fade into the background. It is as if the mind steps forward and the body quietly takes a back seat. Perhaps that is why I have never fully understood the need for elaborate, climate-controlled halls for meditation. I see their value for those who seek comfort or structure, yet my own experience tells me that meditation itself can take care of the body. When the mind settles deeply, the weather becomes irrelevant; heat no longer oppresses, cold no longer bites. The external fades, and the internal becomes vast enough to hold everything without disturbance.

This, too, is a part of living a slow life, allowing space for stillness to arise on its own. Meditation comes to me naturally, woven seamlessly into the rhythm of my days. It may not resemble what most people picture when they speak of meditating, no rigid posture, no set time or ritual, but for me, this is exactly what meditation is. It happens in the quiet company of nature: while watching clouds drift lazily across the sky, listening to the low murmur of a stream, or feeling the gentle sway of trees in the wind. It’s in the warmth of sunlight on my face, the cool brush of evening air, the earthy scent that rises after rain, or the gentle drizzle cooling my bare head. In such moments, there is no need to “try” to meditate. The mind softens, the senses open, and awareness rests naturally in the present.

ADDENDUM (17 Aug 2025): Based on a short discussion with a friend of mine, who is an avid reader and a regular practitioner of meditation and mindful living –

One thing that needs to be clarified is that contemplation should not be mistaken for daydreaming. Daydreaming drifts aimlessly, often carrying the mind into fantasies and distractions, while contemplation is intentional. It is a mindful, steady dwelling on a thought, an idea, or an experience with the purpose of deepening understanding.

Regardless of religion or faith, meditation can be embraced as a gentle companion in daily life.

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