10% Happier

As some of you know, I work as a journalist as well as a meditation teacher like our much-more-famous founder. I often find these worlds at odds – sometimes I joke that in my opinion writing (for New York, Rolling Stone, and The Daily Beast), I stress people out, and then in my meditation work, I help them relax.

For someone in my line of work, the last couple of weeks have been even more “stress” inducing than usual – especially since I often cover issues of women’s and LGBTQ equality. “Stress” of course doesn’t quite capture it. Because of where I sit on the political spectrum, and who I am as a queer person, I’ve felt fear, rage, despair, resolve, optimism, pessimism, concern for my friends, concern for my family, anxiety, determination, and a fair amount of exhaustion. Among other things.

Needless to say, I’m not here to talk about constitutional law; my views are easily googleable. Rather, I want to talk about how these last couple of weeks have underscored the importance of a phrase we sometimes use here at Ten Percent Happier, namely “ten percent happier.”

Obviously, “10% Happier,” as Dan first wrote it out, is a great book title. The dude knows catchy titles – just wait until you hear his next one. But more than that, it’s a great teaching. In fact, I can say with only a little bit of kissing-up that it’s one of the most important bits of wisdom I’ve ever heard, because it is the opposite of how meditation and mindfulness are marketed, and how they’re regarded even by those of us who take them seriously.

I bet you know what I mean. You’ve seen the images of blissed out, calm, I-found-my-Zen consumers with their perfect hair, face, and gear. (Not coincidentally, “perfect” is usually determined by a whole host of deeply problematic underlying values.)  That’s what meditation does: makes you super chill. And conventionally attractive to boot.

Of course, that means that if you’re not super chill, you’re doing it wrong. If you get distracted during meditation, you’re doing it wrong. If you think “wait a minute, actually, sometimes rage and fear are totally appropriate,” you’re doing it wrong. If you don’t speak in a special spiritual voice and drink kombucha, you’re doing it wrong. (I actually love kombucha.) 

Most of all, if you ever fail – if there’s ever a point at which your mindfulness practice is simply not enough to keep you from snapping at your partner, or raging on social media, or saying something really unkind and unhelpful – you must be doing it wrong.

And lord help you if you’re a meditation teacher who ever does those things. Then you’re really doing it wrong.

But even beyond the cliché of the Perfect Meditator, all of us have internalized some of these assumptions, and the self-judgment and self-criticism that go along with them.

We hear, every single day, from people just trying out meditation that they can’t do it because their minds are too busy. And we hear, every day, from people who have meditated for years who wonder why they’re still struggling with anxiety or anger or grief. Whether you’re starting out or an old hand, I bet you sometimes think you’re doing meditation (or the mindful life more generally) wrong because it doesn’t look as perfect as it’s supposed to.

“10% happier” is a much-needed response to that. We’re not promising, and in my opinion no one should promise, that meditation will make you 100% free from stress, or 100% free from saying or doing things you regret later. So, how about ten percent instead?  How about a gradual, gentle improvement in your inner wellbeing that probably goes up and down but that, over time, generally tends toward more happiness and peace?  Would that be worthwhile?  

Again – tends towards peace, not Permanently Resides In Everlasting Peace With No Mess-Ups Ever, which actually sounds irresponsible and narcissistic to me anyway.

Personally, as I’ve felt a storm of emotions over the past two weeks, I’ve seen what the ethos of “10% happier” really looks like in action. I still feel all the feelings I listed above, but I’m also much more aware of them than I used to be. I’m less likely to “hand them the microphone” and let them dictate my actions and words. And I can be with these challenging feelings, rather than connive some way to avoid them or pretend they aren’t there. That is definitely worth the work.

Of course, sometimes I fail at that too. But less than I used to.

Finally, I’ve seen how my imperfect, flawed mindfulness practice helps me do my job(s), get through the day without freaking out, and channel my rage into actions that are hopefully helpful. Particularly in our current political climate, in which rage and absolutism are often rewarded, I find this to be nothing short of redemptive.

It is okay to fail. In fact, it’s totally fine. It’s even appropriate, given the circumstances. You’re not doing it wrong. You’re doing it right. Keep doing it.