Nothing seems guaranteed to spark an explosion of schadenfreude, in the world of psychology, like a new piece of research suggesting meditation might be hogwash. The latest, a review of 54 existing studies, found that mindfulness did little to boost compassion or empathy – and that other activities, such as watching a nature documentary, might help as much. (“Mindfulness No Better Than Watching TV,” ran the gleeful headline on a post by neurologist Steven Novella.)

Then there was the astonishing study that found Tibetan monks and nuns fear death more than the average person – a freakish result, since their philosophy holds that the self isn’t real, so death ought to be no big deal. The delighted reactions to such news are the flipside of the irritation encapsulated in a recent Onion story: “Historians Discover Meditation Spread From Ancient China By Annoying Monk Who Wouldn’t Shut Up About How It Changed His Life.”

As a meditation proponent, I have my retorts at the ready, of course. For good scientific reasons, researchers usually don’t try to recruit participants specifically looking to get into meditation, when my hunch is you have to really want to do it for it to work. Often, they’re asked to meditate for very short sessions, whereas in my experience, the longer the better. As for those death-fearing Buddhists, who were apparently mainly young, perhaps it’s just that they’d thought about death more than most of us – and with more years of meditation, they’ll transcend their fear entirely?

Finally, if I really want to annoy the critics, I’ll wheel out the argument that meditation isn’t meant to have a goal – so condemning it for failing to achieve certain goals misses the point. Mainly, though, I keep quiet, for fear of being hoist by my own petard. The moment I start snarking at some opponent of meditation, I’ve proved their point that in my case, at any rate, it hasn’t yet led to unbroken kindness or calm.

Still, it’s intriguing that meditation seems to irritate some people quite so intensely. There’s definitely something aggravating about spiritual teachers speaking in an affectless monotone, implying they’ve discovered the secret of happiness, while their whole bearing suggests their lives are boringly calm. Then there’s the dodgy politics of telling people to find joy in life as it is, rather than fighting for change – plus the dubiousness of spending public money promoting meditation if science doesn’t support the outcomes you’re trying to achieve. Besides, it’s pretty infuriating to have anyone tell you how to be happy. Especially when the practice they’re telling you to try is one that, in some sense, involves not trying.

All of which are good arguments against stuffing meditation down others’ throats. What they’re not, though, are reasons not to meditate. Nor, if you ask me, is the research challenging its efficacy: for me to stop meditating because of a study would be as bizarre as to abandon country hikes, or meals with friends, because research showed they weren’t as beneficial as they seemed. But to a great extent, the “seeming” itself is the benefit: if life seems better when I meditate, it just is better. Sorry if that viewpoint gets you worked up. Maybe you should try meditation?

Read this

Trying Not To Try, Edward Slingerland’s book about Chinese philosophy and the art of spontaneity, helps explain why consciously attempting to achieve happiness via mindfulness – or anything else – may backfire