Not Taking What Is Not Given

A hand-drawn stick figure sitting cross-legged with eyes closed, a small smile, and hands resting open on the knees, in white on a light blue square, above the hand-lettered words Pretty Good Meditation with Episode 100 in bold rust-orange capitals below.

Last week I published episode 100 of Pretty Good Meditation. It did not involve much fanfare.

When I first started recording these, I had intro music, I said the date and the episode number, and I sometimes mentioned my website or newsletter. There are no ads and there never have been. Most episodes were 15-20 minutes and ended with three bells.

My latest episode didn’t have any of that. I’ve come to think that someone who wants to try meditation, or who is just looking for a little guidance to help settle the mind, might not like the music I selected, doesn’t need to know my name, probably doesn’t care about the episode number, and certainly isn’t in the mood to visit my website. All the details are in the show notes anyway. Episode 100 is three minutes and forty-seven seconds. No intro. No bells.

The Sanskrit term asteya is usually translated as “non-stealing.” In its most basic sense it means “don’t take other people’s stuff.” It can also mean more than that. Not taking what is not given can apply to someone’s attention.

I like 3-5 minute meditations that offer a single object to focus on. One idea to guide your practice. That 3-5 minutes might be your whole meditation for the day. Or maybe you stay and sit in silence for longer. Perhaps much longer. This feels like an easy way to invite people to meditate, and less like stealing their attention.

I don’t like newsletters with embedded spy pixels that report back when you open a message and on what device. I get why people feel the need to track their subscribers, but I don’t agree. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a newsletter sign-up that lets you uncheck a box that says, “Track which newsletters I open and what links I click.” That feels like stealing to me.

So I avoid tracking the people who listen to my podcast or read my words. (Thank you for reading!) The feedback that reaches me instead comes directly from people: an email, a comment, someone stopping me after class to say an episode helped them through a bad week. One guy told me once he’d heard my voice more that week than his wife’s. That’s enough for me to keep recording meditations.

Where is your attention right now? Did you give it, or did something take it?



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Related Terms (Sanskrit)