Recently I have been struggling badly with meditation.
Mindfulness feels weak.
Concentration disappears almost immediately.
The mind jumps constantly from thought to thought:
the classic “monkey mind.”
I know all the usual instructions:
focus on the breath,
return to the body,
observe thoughts arising and passing,
rest attention within the present moment.
None of it seemed to be working.
So this morning I sat with my journal instead, trying honestly to identify what was happening beneath the surface.
The answer appeared quickly, though I did not especially like it.
I am carrying a great deal of anger.
Not abstract irritation.
Not mild frustration.
Real anger that feels physical at times, as though I can almost taste it.
The Hindrance of Aversion
Within Buddhism, anger and aversion are recognised as major obstacles to clarity and peace of mind.
The Five Hindrances describe mental states that cloud attention and disturb meditation:
desire,
restlessness,
sloth,
doubt,
and ill-will.
At the moment, ill-will feels very close to the surface for me.
And perhaps what unsettles me most is that some of the anger feels justified.
The Modern Mind and Constant Agitation
Modern life makes sustained calm increasingly difficult.
Politics, social division, economic pressure, social media outrage, endless news cycles — all of it constantly pulls at the mind.
It becomes easy to live in a state of permanent reaction.
I notice this especially when following political events and public debate in Britain. Strong opinions arise quickly:
frustration,
resentment,
fear for the future,
anger toward politicians,
anger toward institutions,
anger toward people who appear unwilling to listen to one another.
The mind clings tightly to views and emotional reactions.
And once that momentum begins, meditation becomes much harder.
Knowing Is Not the Same as Seeing
Intellectually, I already know the Buddhist teachings surrounding anger.
I understand that anger agitates the mind.
I understand that attachment to views creates suffering.
I understand that reacting constantly strengthens restlessness rather than peace.
But knowing something intellectually is very different from seeing it directly inside one’s own experience.
Meditation exposes this difference very clearly.
Observing the Mind Honestly
Perhaps this difficult period of practice is useful in its own way.
It is easy to feel calm during peaceful periods of life.
It is much harder when emotions become politically, socially, or personally charged.
Maybe this is where practice actually matters most.
Not in escaping difficult emotions,
but in observing honestly what they are doing to the mind.
At present, my meditation does not feel peaceful or accomplished.
It feels unsettled.
But at least I can now see more clearly what is driving that agitation.
And perhaps that is the beginning of mindfulness rather than the failure of it.
An Open Question
I suspect I am far from alone in this.
Many people today seem exhausted by outrage, division, anxiety, and endless mental stimulation.
So I genuinely wonder:
How do others maintain mindfulness and compassion while living within such emotionally charged times?
I do not yet have a clear answer.
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