Many people regard the Eastern practices as some special or secret vehicle for escaping the pain of their lives. They see it as a tree from which one may pluck the most beautiful of flowers. But for us to pick the flowers from a tree, we must first cultivate the ground, the roots and the trunk, which means working with our fears, frustrations, and pain - in short, our suffering.

It is for this reason that meditation and other yogic (not Yogic, specifically) techniques are such a powerful adjunct to psychotherapy. This is especially true in the current climate that has begun to recognize that the non-interactive psychoanalytic styles and non-directive ‘talk' styles of therapy do not always hold the same transformative power as more cognitively based techniques. CBT and DBT work with the mind; meditation works with the heart, or, more properly, the heart-mind -- a perfect complement.

Meditation demands that we experience life for what it is. It requires that we walk into the fire, and experience the truth of suffering and the reality of dissatisfaction. If we do not do this, if we seek some mythic nirvana or Paradise, it only invites more suffering.

We cannot replace fantasy with more fantasy, but must replace it with reality. Once we have accepted and moved past our reality (read: released our attachment, and thence quelled our suffering), we shall find peace.

We can express our willingness to face the reality of our lives through the practice of meditation. The practice is not an attempt to achieve ecstasy, tranquility or prompt spiritual attainment. It is an exercise in holding space for ourselves in an effort to undo our personal neurotic patterns, untie the knot of our own suffering, examine our fears and realize our dreams. We do this by the seemingly antithetical act of, frankly, doing nothing.

While there are many meditation techniques and styles, the bottom line is this - just sit. At first, this is difficult and we are only approximating the "doing of nothing". This is why in the Raja Yogic tradition dharana (concentration) comes before dhyana (meditation), and the common wisdom is that, until you can "do nothing" (read: suspend the mind) for 11 seconds, you are not yet meditating.

When we meditate, we neither hold the mind too tightly, nor do we let it go. Holding the mind too tightly defeats our purpose, because, rather than being present in the moment, we are focused on meditating...we are doing something, not just sitting. If we let go the mind, then the monkeys of "monkey mind" create mischief, and the "wild horses of the mind" run, well, wild.

Meditation is an exercise in balance. By concentrating on the simple, automatic and unavoidable bodily function of breath, we learn to hold the mind exactly where it needs to be, not too tightly and not too loosely. We narrow our focus, and become present.

The simple act of becoming present in the breath brings us into the present moment, and casts light upon that which is immediate to us. We are no longer at the sufferance of the project at work that needs to be completed, or the taxes due on the house. We are no longer anticipating the escape of our nightly cocktail, or the show we are going to on the weekend.

The narrowing of our focus and the cultivation of presence brings to the surface the neurotic mechanism driving our procrastination at work, our resistance to authority, or our need for escape, distraction and entertainment. Meditation brings us to a place where we must acknowledge the not-so-pretty parts of ourselves that drive the not-so-pretty parts of our lives. It opens up a panoramic view of our lives and ourselves by narrowing our vision.

The constancy of this simple practice brings into a stark light everything that we so desperately attempt to avoid. The acute awareness of our internal and external environments -- both those that we create and those that are thrust upon us -- becomes our ultimate teacher. In doing so, it creates for us an authentic theater for change, and the director of that theater is the greatest guru - you.