What is meditation?

Many people understand meditation as a technique. Something you learn, perform, perfect. Close your eyes, stop your thoughts, done.

I see it differently – and because the word is now used for two different things, it is worth taking a detour through the older terminology.

Two things, one word

Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra distinguishes three stages, all of which can be called “meditation” in German.

Dharana is gathering attention on one point – work, technique, something that can be practised. Dhyana is what arises from this when that concentration sustains itself and no longer needs to be maintained; the relationship to the object still remains. Only in Samadhi does the separation between the one who looks and what is looked at also dissolve.

I am primarily interested in the second stage. Because Dhyana is not an action: you can prepare for it, but you cannot produce it. It arises when the physical and mental conditions are right – then the doing stops.

When someone today says “I meditate for twenty minutes”, they usually mean Dharana. This is not a criticism or a rule about how you should use the word – it is the necessary foundation. It is simply not the same thing.

Why I disagree about the absence of thought

In many classes today, you hear that meditation has nothing to do with quietening thoughts – you should simply let them come and go.

As guidance for beginners, I think this is right: fighting your thoughts makes them louder. As a description of the whole path, I find it incomplete. In the classical descriptions, the stillness in which the stream of thought actually comes to rest is not a side effect, but what the path leads towards.

Here, the traditions differ, and I deliberately take a position: I consider the understanding of meditation as a state to be more precise. Those who see it differently have good teachers behind them – it is simply worth knowing that we are talking about different things.

At the very end of this path, in Samadhi, the separation between observer and observed also dissolves, according to the description. Then there is no longer an I that meditates. Only stillness.

Mindfulness – the path to meditation

If meditation is the state, then mindfulness is the path to it.

The German word Achtsamkeit – mindfulness in English – means fully alert presence. Your mind is not carried away by streams of thought, judgements or strong emotions. You perceive the moment as it is. Clearly. Directly. Without a filter.

In practice, this means three things:

Recognising and stopping reactivity. We constantly react to sensory impressions – a sound, a thought, a feeling – and are immediately swept along. Mindfulness means noticing this automatic response and not getting drawn into it.

Living in the present moment. The mind is almost always in the past or the future. Mindfulness brings it back to the here and now. Not through willpower, but through gentle attention.

Directing attention into the body. Thoughts live in the head. The body lives in the moment. Bringing attention into the body often makes it easier to settle.

The five hindrances

The Buddhist tradition describes five hindrances that arise on the path to inner stillness. Knowing them makes them easier to recognise – and easier to let go of.

Desire. The mind wants something – a particular experience, a particular feeling, a particular state. This wanting creates tension and prevents precisely what we are seeking.

Aversion. The counterpart to desire. The mind rejects something – pain, boredom, unpleasant thoughts. Instead of looking, it turns away.

Restlessness. The mind jumps from thought to thought. It does not want to settle, to become still. Everything seems more important than this moment.

Sluggishness. Tiredness, lack of interest, a heavy fog. The mind is not alert enough to perceive clearly.

Doubt. Am I on the right path? Am I doing this correctly? Is it helping at all? Doubt is the most subtle hindrance – it undermines the practice before it can begin.

These five are not enemies. They are teachers. Each time you recognise one and let it go, the stillness becomes a little deeper.

Zazen – just sitting

One of the purest forms of meditation is Zazen – sitting without concepts. You sit upright. You observe what comes and goes. You do not intervene.

No mantra, no visualisation, no goal. Just sitting. Just being here.

It sounds simple, and it is simple. But it is also incredibly honest. There is nothing to hide behind. Everything within you comes to the surface.

Over time, something arises that is called No-Mind in the Zen tradition – a state of inner stillness in which thinking, judging and controlling stop of their own accord. Not because you suppress them, but because they are no longer needed.

Wu wei – acting without forcing

In the Daoist tradition, there is a concept closely connected to meditation: Wu wei. At KI-mo, we understand it as acting without forcing – not as non-action.

This is not a concept of laziness, nor does it mean giving up thought. It describes a clear direction with less unnecessary overcontrol: using strength where it is needed and leaving out the rest. Alertness, responsibility and the ability to stop or choose again at any time remain intact.

Anyone who meditates regularly knows moments when an action feels right without lengthy deliberation. The mind does not disappear – it simply does not push itself to the front.

This can certainly be practised, just not through greater effort. Rather, by waiting briefly before intervening.

Personal development before technique

There are countless meditation techniques. Some are helpful, some distract. What really matters is not the perfect technique, but your willingness to look honestly.

Meditation is ultimately personal development. It shows you who you are when you stop wanting to be someone. That is sometimes uncomfortable. And it is the most honest path I know.

Beginning

You do not need a cushion, an app or any training. Sit down. Close your eyes. Observe what is there.

When thoughts come, let them come. When they go, let them go – at the beginning, this is exactly right, because fighting only makes them louder.

And then notice the gaps between them. There, things become still, and there begins what I call meditation.