"You are indeed, of the blood of the stars," announces a voice emanating from my laptop speakers. My browser is open to a video titled, "EPIC UPLIFT FOR ANYONE! You Are Amazing!" that reassures me of my unique existence, my celestial lineage, and my potential for greatness. The speaker's invigorating narration comes along with the visual of a journey through outer space, and in the moment that I consider the idea that I am star blood, I pump my fist once in the air and say, "Oh fuck yeah!"

A friend texted a few minutes later in distress, and I told her that whatever was bothering her, to remember that she was the descendant of the great wide universe, that the shine and fire of the stars ran through her veins just as it did a comet or splendid sun. Frankly, it was a little much. But it made her feel better.

If someone had told me even six months ago that such an exuberant outburst would become part of my morning routine, I might have sworn to never speak to them again. I was not some kind of spiritually oriented, intention-setting, self-help-needing, chakra-aligning woman. I relied only on Diet Coke, Adderall, and my own ruthless ambition to get me through the day.

But when I bought a new TV that offered fitness channels with free workout videos, I accidentally fell into the guided meditation section. One was called "GUIDED MEDITATION: Releasing Anger" and so I figured I'd give it a shot since it would only take 20 minutes. It was an angry kind of day because I live an angry kind of life and if nothing else, I could laugh at whatever guidance it offered with running water sounds in the background.

YouTube

I don't know if it was the calming British accents or the images of forests, but none of my knee-jerk mockery emerged. Instead, I surrendered to the earnestness and did exactly as the video suggested. A few deep breaths here, a visualization there, a few muscle clenching exercises followed by releases. I emerged calmer than when I had begun. I hadn't released all my anger, but that would have been a tall order anyway. Instead, I became just a little less panicked by the prospect of the day ahead, my focus felt sharper, and I could bring something like intentional positivity to the day.

The fact that there were only a few of these videos available on the subscription channel and that my cat exerts a tyrannical rule over my living room wherein he demands attention at all times made me think that it would be logistically impossible to continue. Then I remembered that treasure trove of content called YouTube that I had until then only used to watch children or animals do something especially darling.

My deep dive into YouTube meditations, hypnosis, and motivational exercises has seen me through countless hours repeating corny positive affirmations, visualizing gentle giants who want me to find my best self, and a whole lot of slow breathing. My search terms vary according to my mood or the time of day. "Guided meditation for anxiety" is a reliable source of gentle goodness. "Spoken positive affirmations" are great, but only if you are home alone so that no one can hear you repeating "I am beautiful, I am strong!" with the necessary gusto to really get the intended effect.

YouTube

This new habit would be fairly unremarkable were it not for, as I've alluded to already, a lifetime of resistance to mindfulness, meditation, or really any mode of self-help that doesn't rely on medicalized explanations of my problems and medicalized solutions for them. It's not just that I previously preferred substances over sublimation to get me through the day. I have an almost physical aversion to engaging too deeply with the quieter corners of my soul. A friend once took me to a Buddhist learning center where the whole room meditates together following a lecture. The silence of the meditation made me want to jump out of my skin. When my boyfriend suggested guiding me through a basic 10-minute meditation lying in bed, I got through three minutes before bursting into tears because I felt like I was suffocating.

A friend once took me to a Buddhist learning center where the whole room meditates together following a lecture. The silence of the meditation made me want to jump out of my skin.

I was further put off the idea of adopting any practice with a religious origin by my education. At Yale Divinity School, where I got my master's, I took a class that covered all sorts of meditation traditions: Zen, chanting meditations with origins in South America, Eastern Orthodox icon gazing, and everything in between. I went through the motions and found much of the material compelling, but I could not let myself be transformed by the powers of these practices as I felt some classmates were able to. My reverence for these practices and admiration for the shape of the world as these traditions saw it made casual adoption feel appropriative. It demonstrated to me the limitations of trying to embrace a religious practice without rigorous training and study. Ripping a meditative tradition from its holy context felt disrespectful and, for me, likely ineffective.

YouTube

I never disbelieved in the transformative power of meditation practices, I just felt my disposition wasn't suited to it. I am an impatient learner, I like visible results, and I hate being bad at things. I didn't foresee any forthcoming stretches of time when I'd be able to study ancient Eastern practice or dig into the ascetics. But falling down the YouTube wormhole made me realize there was a space between the neurotic ache of my daily grind and enlightenment. It helps that I've also witnessed how chill my boyfriend is because of his own admittedly more advanced meditation practice.

Because I know how much I don't really know, I opt now for the videos that tend toward the sappy, full of shallow platitudes. If there is religious or even spiritual content, it is generally vague, a particular favorite being this positive affirmation video that has me declare, "My experience on Earth is crammed with heaven." I still believe in the potentially more transformative healing power of studying the Buddha's life or the power of the chakras or the idea of Zen; they are complete systems of thinking. But those systems don't make the low-budget guides that just help me get through the morning with clearer eyes any less effective. And so I choose to follow along repeating very earnest affirmations about how special and beloved by the universe I am. I choose meditations that let me visualize being among trees and my friends and my cat as pathways to finding better ways to love myself. Turns out, I care more about those things than unlocking the secrets of the universe or the spirit.

I still drink too much Diet Coke and am motivated professionally and personally by insecurity more than my obligations to my starry ancestors. But by sitting alone with the voice of a stranger who is trying to make the walk through life a bit gentler, I've realized that these practices are disrupting what I thought was my doomed disposition. I don't currently plan to take the practices much deeper than trying to have a slightly brighter day and a kinder way of approaching myself and others. But for me, that feels like more than enough.

Alana Massey Alana Massey is a writer and editor covering identity, culture, virtue, and vice.

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