Training Without Power Steering

Many years ago, twenty-five, to be precise, I went for go-karting with my friend. It was my first time ever. As is usually my nature, I can’t do anything half-hearted. Either I’m fully in it or not at all. It’s no surprise then that soon I found myself doing the laps with relentless focus and gusto. I was very much in the thick of it all, gripping that steering wheel like my Australian residency depended on it.

There were several laps to complete, and as I zoomed around the track, I was quite pleased with myself. “Wow,” I thought, “no one ahead of me. I’m slaying it.” My inner champion was already rehearsing a humble victory speech.

In the last couple of laps, in particular, I saw that I was miles ahead with no one around me. Then the race ended and I got off my kart with a sense of accomplishment. “Strange,” I thought, “most of the folks are already there.” 

And then I checked the leaderboard. Where I thought I was running a couple (or more) laps ahead of everyone, I was actually behind them all. I was the last person on the leaderboard (or maybe second-last I can’t recall, exactly).

But here’s where it gets interesting.

After I climbed out of that go-kart, which, I should mention, had no power steering, no hydraulic brakes, and the suspension of a shopping cart, I walked over to my car. It was a sports car with LPT (light pressure turbo).

I sat down, put my foot on the accelerator, and the car practically flew. The steering responded to the slightest touch. The brakes were smooth as butter. The whole experience felt almost laughably easy. I was gliding through traffic like a hot knife through ghee, and I thought, was driving always this effortless?

Of course it was. I had just forgotten. After that kart, my regular car felt like a luxury I had been taking for granted.

This is exactly what meditation does to your mind. (No, I don’t mean that you lose big at go-karting or glide through traffic.)

When you sit down to meditate with focus and sincerity, you are essentially putting your mind in a go-kart. There’s no power steering of distractions, no hydraulic brakes of entertainment, no suspension of external stimulation to cushion the bumps. It’s just you and your thoughts, raw and unfiltered.

As I’ve always said, the mind does not like this arrangement. It will throw tantrums, it will wander. It will suddenly remember this, that, and the other. It will compose grocery lists, replay arguments, and invent problems that don’t exist, all in a desperate attempt to avoid the discomfort of stillness. 

But you must persist because when you step out of that meditation, something remarkable happens. The problems and anxieties that seemed so heavy, the noise that had been overwhelming, it all feels a little lighter. A little more manageable. Like driving a sports car after wrestling with a go-kart.

There’s a simple principle at work here: smaller problems dissolve naturally when we take on bigger challenges. Think about it. When you’re navigating a genuine crisis, the petty grievances that once consumed you suddenly seem absurd. The mind, it turns out, has limited bandwidth, and when you occupy it with something significant, the trivial simply gets pushed out. (I always encourage everyone at work to choose high-impact items over low-impact ones, for example).

Meditation works on the same principle, but in reverse. You are not distracting yourself with a bigger external problem. Instead, you are taking on the biggest internal challenge there is: the mind itself. You are sitting with this beautiful, magnificent beast, observing it, and refusing to be swept away by your thoughts.

This is not easy. In fact, taming my mind with meditation is the most difficult endeavor I ever undertook. But that difficulty is the whole point. By training yourself to remain calm amidst the storm of your own mind, you build a kind of inner resilience that nothing else can give you. And when you step back into the world, with its deadlines and disappointments and difficult people, it all feels more like a sports car and less like a go-kart.

As I always say, meditation is like going to the gym (if you are really serious about it). Going to the gym is not necessarily enjoyable but it’s the after-effects that make everything worthwhile. Similarly with meditation, if you are enjoying meditating, you are not exactly training your mind. If, on the other hand, you meditate with focus and concentration, the results will come after you rise from your seat and walk back into the world.

Just as we devote time to training the body, I encourage you to devote time to training the mind. Short, lucid sessions, that’s all it takes. You don’t need to sit for hours. You just need to show up, again and again, and do the work. This is the only way (that I know of) to build your mental stamina, to set it up for incredible results.

One day, a young boy found Mulla Nasrudin sitting by the river with a large, heavy stone in his lap. 

Curious, the boy asked, “Mulla, why do you carry that stone everywhere you go?”
“So that when I finally put it down,” Mulla said, “walking will feel like flying.”
“That sounds exhausting,” the boy said.
“It is,” Nasrudin said. “But at least my arms are getting stronger. And who knows? Maybe enlightenment is just well-developed biceps.”

We all carry this weight around. Weight of feelings, thoughts, experiences, grudges, resentment, unfulfilled wishes, unrequited love and what not. You can call it baggage if you like. We justify lugging it around, as if it’s making us stronger but it isn’t. It’s making us heavier. And this is where training your mind is the best gift you can give to yourself. Meditate for a few minutes each day. Do it sincerely. Do it even when it feels pointless.

And then, one day, when life throws its usual chaos at you, you might just find yourself smiling, gliding through it all like you’re driving a sports car on an open road, wondering why everything suddenly feels like a piece of cake. Because everything is a piece of cake for a well-trained mind. If I may share my favorite quote again by Buddha, “The one who knows the reality of one thing knows the reality of everything.”

That’s the magic of training without power steering.

Peace.
Swami