Meditation, contemplation and concentration are words that are often used almost interchangeably.
Sit quietly and focus on the breath and we might call it meditating.
Become deeply absorbed in something and we might describe that as concentrating.
Spend time quietly considering a question and we may be contemplating.
There are overlaps between these experiences, but they are not necessarily the same.
For me, what makes them interesting is not trying to establish precise definitions, but exploring how our experience changes as we move between them.
What happens when attention becomes very focused?
What happens when we allow it to move around an idea or question?
And what happens when we stop trying to direct attention altogether?
Concentration: directing attention
Concentration involves directing our attention towards something.
It might be the breath, a sensation, a sound, an image, a movement or something we are doing.
As attention becomes increasingly focused, other aspects of our experience can begin to recede into the background.
This is something most of us already experience.
Become absorbed in reading and you may temporarily stop noticing the sounds around you.
Listen very closely to a piece of music and your awareness of the room may diminish.
Explore a particular sensation and other sensations can become less prominent.
Concentration gives us the possibility of becoming very finely attuned to something.
We can notice distinctions that might otherwise escape us.
But there is also something interesting about recognising concentration as one way in which awareness can organise itself, rather than assuming that concentration and meditation are necessarily the same thing.
Contemplation: staying with something
Contemplation has a different quality.
There is still something present around which our attention gathers – an idea, a question, an experience, perhaps even a single word.
But instead of holding attention tightly upon it, we allow ourselves to stay with it.
We might approach it from different directions.
An association appears.
A memory arises.
A question changes.
Something that initially seemed obvious becomes less certain.
Something apparently unrelated suddenly becomes relevant.
Contemplation can have a spaciousness that concentration doesn’t necessarily require.
We aren’t trying to arrive at an answer as quickly as possible.
We are allowing something to reveal more of itself.
For me, this is one of the pleasures of contemplation. I can begin with an idea without knowing where it will take me.
There can be direction without needing a predetermined destination.
Meditation: allowing experience
Meditation opens another possibility.
Instead of directing attention towards a particular object or allowing it to move around a particular question, we can begin to explore what happens when experience is simply allowed to be as it is.
Sounds arise.
Sensations appear.
Thoughts come and go.
Breathing changes.
Something catches our attention and then disappears.
There may be stillness.
There may be considerable activity.
Nothing has to be excluded for meditation to be happening.
This is an important distinction for me.
Meditation doesn’t necessarily mean stopping thought, emptying the mind or achieving a particular state of calm.
Nor does a thought appearing mean that meditation has somehow been interrupted.
Thinking is happening.
Sensing is happening.
Hearing is happening.
Breathing is happening.
Awareness is already present for all of it.
Rather than trying to manage experience, meditation can become an exploration of allowing experience to appear within awareness.
Exploring the differences
The distinctions become much more interesting when we experience them rather than merely describe them.
Take something simple – perhaps a sound.
You could begin by concentrating on it.
Listen closely.
Notice its texture, volume, rhythm and changes.
What happens to the rest of your experience as your attention becomes increasingly focused upon the sound?
Then you might allow the relationship to change.
Rather than concentrating exclusively upon the sound, stay with it more loosely.
What does it evoke?
What associations arise?
What becomes interesting about it?
Where does your attention travel?
Something closer to contemplation may begin to emerge.
And then you might let go of the need to stay with the sound at all.
The sound can still be present, but so can everything else.
Other sounds.
Sensations.
Thoughts.
Breathing.
Space.
Whatever appears.
Nothing needs to become the centre.
The same experience can therefore be encountered through quite different relationships with attention and awareness.
Not three separate boxes
Of course, lived experience rarely divides itself into tidy categories.
Concentration can appear within meditation.
Contemplation may become very focused.
Meditation can include moments when attention naturally gathers around something.
We can move between these qualities without deliberately deciding to do so.
So I don’t find it particularly useful to treat meditation, contemplation and concentration as three separate boxes.
They are more interesting as possibilities we can recognise and explore.
Attention can narrow.
It can broaden.
It can settle around something.
It can move.
It can become absorbed.
And it can cease trying to organise experience at all.
Becoming familiar with these differences gives us more ways of recognising what is happening within our own experience.
When nothing needs to be achieved
Perhaps one of the most significant differences emerges here.
Concentration often has a direction.
Contemplation begins with something we are exploring.
But meditation can invite us into an experience in which nothing needs to be achieved.
We don’t need to produce stillness.
We don’t need to stop thought.
We don’t need to maintain perfect concentration.
We don’t even need to have a particularly pleasant experience.
What is already happening can be enough.
And within that allowing, something curious can become apparent.
Thoughts change without us changing them.
Sensations appear and disappear.
Sounds arrive and fade.
Breathing continues.
Attention moves.
Experience continually reorganises itself.
We don’t have to make all of this happen.
Discovering what is already here
Meditation, contemplation and concentration each offer different possibilities.
Perhaps the interesting part is becoming sensitive enough to recognise the difference.
To notice when attention narrows.
To notice when it opens.
To notice when we are directing it.
And occasionally, to discover what happens when we don’t direct it at all.
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