My Meditation Music

I am not the most skilled at meditating, I find my mind wondering and wandering and willow-wisping away to intrusive thoughts, both seemingly good and seemingly bad, all helpful, none helpful. However, as my Buddhist therapist has told me time and time again as I journey on the path to a fulfilled mind, the road to peaceful, loving, and harmonious thoughts, is anyone truly “good” at meditating? Thich Nhat Hanh, famed Buddhist monk and teacher, residing in Blue Cliff Monastery within the heart of France, nominated by Martin Luther King Jr. for the Nobel Peace Prize, would probably laugh if complimented on his meditation skills. No doubt a shining, contended, humble laugh, and perhaps along with it a word or two about how we never should find ourselves stagnant in growth or willing to accept where we are without pushing the boundaries of our loving-kindness.

That being said, music during meditation is a must for me. I generally keep my meditations under an hour (or up to an hour if I can bear it), and along with this healthy activity I remind myself, meditation isn’t supposed to be fun, it isn’t supposed to be comfortable, but it is, as I said, healthy.

With that, my first song is Sens Plus Profond by Coquins. The only available release by this artist, the song’s title literally translates to “Deeper Meaning.” The calm electronic hum and light pulsating bass synths bring me focus and oftentimes excite me for the journey I am about to go on within my mind.

Next comes “Always Returning” by Brian Eno. The peaceful, single guitar of this song, along with the name, brings me focus in a heightened state My mind begins to wander (“Oh! I must take the laundry out! Oh! But what do they think of me! Oh! Remember that time when?”) and then, as the wordless song continues, I work on returning to my center, clearing my mind, and letting each thought pass as if it is exactly what it is: fleeting, temporary, and worldly.

After Eno comes the emotive and calming ambience of the song “The Daughters of Quiet Minds” by Stars of the Lid. This thirteen minute composition of ethereal swells of beauty in its most quieted form is almost subversive, for without the prior preparation of the other songs it may seem that only calm and gentleness with oneself can come from these strings and light brass work. However, meditation is meant to bring you deep within, and not all that you find within is in harmony with your true, lovingly-kind nature.

This brings about the next song: “Late October” by Harold Budd and Brian Eno. This song evokes many emotions. Sadness is one of them. There is suffering abounding on this planet and also within the universes of each of our minds. The pensive piano digs deep with it’s delicate minor key; the thoughts of the journey I am on intensify. I can never truly clear my mind, I cannot sit there in a dead state, but the music that plays sends me inward. It looks at my longings, my desires, both healthy and unhealthy. What do I need to do?

Life is always changing, and that never changes. The next song on the list is “Atomos VI” by A Winged Victory of the Sullen. A slow start meshes well with the ending of “Late October,” but this song builds, and with it many feelings and emotions: distraught thoughts of how far I have to go in this life, how much work there is to do, how much hurt I have caused and am causing and how that needs to change. The building continues, the piano with delay, repeating itself unto a moment of sad reflection. What have I learned? What am I learning? What do I need to still learn?

And then, the sixth song: “Immunity” by Jon Hopkins. This music, the electronic half-way beats between repetitive, hopeful piano, reminds me of something. It reminds me to love myself, that this meditative journey was a learning experience, that the darker thoughts are to be my friends as well as the light thoughts, that I am a work in progress and needn’t ever be any more than exactly that. The song builds for nearly eight minutes until it slowly digresses into feelings of calm, of the voice in my head saying “Well done, Sam, keep working, keep trying, The Spirits see and bless you.”

The seventh song is the final instrumental song on the playlist. It is called “An Ending (Ascent)”, and is also by the musician Brian Eno. A simple, beautiful, percussion-less chord progression on a synthesizer, this lifts my spirits to begin anew, to see the light of day and cherish each journey while looking forward to all the ones to follow. Around four minutes of it repeating, and truly, it feels as though I have ascended a tiny bit. The ethereal melody mixed with spot-on synth work by “The Father of Ambient Music” (as Eno is known) glides through my mind. Peace.

The eighth and final song on the playlist is quite different. It has words, but more than that, a pulsating beat, a throbbing drop, energy, boost, excitement and rally. Called “Ring” by Mint Royale, it is narrated by none other than award-winning actor Willem Dafoe. It is a moment of motivation, it is a call for change in my life. It is a call for action, and with it, by the end, comes the edifying nature of an incredibly dance-able jam. Dafoe’s words are as follows:

So, you basically wake up...

You do whatever you do in the morning...

You go off to work...

You work for some time,

Sometimes 8,

Sometimes 12 hours...

You sleep... a little...

You sleep... a little...

And then you do it all over again.

There's a comfort to the ordinary...

The cage never been rattled...

But sometimes you gotta rattle your own cage...

Slip the bars...

Go roaming...

Because everything's out there.

Whatever you want...

It's out there.

You've gotta draw your own map...

Ring your own changes...

Lead yourself by the hand into the unknown.

Time goes on...

The cab meter of life

Runs quicker.

You have to figure out what you're doing...

You know...

Just to get it going.

Not 'someday'...

Not 'in future times'...

Right now.

That's what exhilarates...

You've gotta do something...

Even if it’s wrong...

You've gotta cross the bridge...

Find out what's on the other side...

Nothing comes to those who wait.

Make now a memory.

Because that's what exhilarates…

By the end of the final song, I am once again ready to face the world, to rattle my cage, to go roaming, to flip the switches of singular thought into a broadened mind of optimism, one peppered with metaphor and analogy, one burning with hope that no darkness of these troubled times can dim.

And then, when I need to, I do it all over again.

If want to give my playlist a listen, here is a link to the Spotify playlist: