The Donkey and the Rider: Why Meditation Relaxation Techniques Are Already Where You Are

We often find ourselves in a peculiar comedy, a bit like someone frantically running around asking everyone where their donkey is, while all the time they are sitting firmly on its back. This is the curious case of the seeker. We look for peace, for the absolute, or for some grand awakening as if it were a distant peak we must climb. But who is it that is looking? And where could this "absolute" possibly be hiding if it is indeed the totality? If the infinite is truly infinite, it must include you, your distractions, and even your feeling of being lost, right from the very start. Otherwise, it wouldn't be infinite; it would just be a very large "something" that is unfortunately missing you. Many of us come to meditation relaxation techniques because the noise of the world and the chatter of the separate self become too heavy to bear. We feel a contraction in the body-mind, a chronic tension that we don't even notice until we finally stop. We think that by sitting in silence, we are building a bridge to a better version of ourselves or a higher state of being. But let’s be frank among friends: there is no bridge. There is nowhere to go because you are already the ocean. A wave doesn't need to "practice" to become the ocean; it already is the ocean, even when it’s crashing against the rocks or feeling particularly small. When we talk about meditation relaxation techniques, it is helpful to see them for what they are—a way to find some comfort in the here and now. When the body relaxes, the blood vessels carry more oxygen, the immune system finds its footing, and the chronic grip of stress begins to loosen. This is wonderful. It makes the "dream" of daily life more pleasant. But it isn't a ladder to enlightenment. Enlightenment isn't a destination; it's the realization that the one trying to get "there" was never actually separate from "here." In our shared experience, we often notice that the separate self is not a solid entity. It’s more of a relational function, a way the body-mind tries to navigate the environment. Sometimes this function works well, and sometimes it creates suffering. We might use meditation to move from the complex to the simple, undoing the knots of the mind rather than adding new spiritual achievements to our resume. But even the most profound states of quiet—those moments where the mind becomes like a thread of glowing steel in a vast void—are still just appearances within the totality. They come and they go. If a peace can be lost when life "hits hard," then that peace was just another temporary state, not the absolute. The absolute is the silence that underlies the noise, much like the silence that allows a sound to be heard. You don't have to create that silence; you can't. It is the background, the screen upon which the film of your life is projected. Whether the movie is a tragedy or a comedy, the screen remains untouched.