I Meditated for Science. Here’s What My Brain Said.
I thought I was doing it wrong. Turns out, my brain had other ideas.
When I first started meditating, I kept waiting for something dramatic to happen.
A portal to open. My thoughts to hush. My body to levitate slightly off the cushion.
Instead?
I mostly noticed how loud my mind was. My to-do list. My itchy nose. And I’d think: This can’t be it.
Was I doing it wrong?
Turns out, that’s one of the most common barriers to practice. The self-doubt. The quiet suspicion that if it doesn’t feel “calm” or “blissful” right away, maybe you’re not cut out for it.
Research backs this up. The experience of meditation can vary significantly from session to session. One study of 434 meditators found that people who didn’t stick with meditation often struggled not because they didn’t value it—but because they weren’t sure it was “working.”
I saw the same pattern in my own research. When people tried a self-compassionate touch micropractice for the first time, those who didn’t feel noticeably more self-compassionate right away were less likely to stick with it. They were also less likely to make it into a habit—and by that, I mean something you do without having to think about it.
It wasn’t that the practice had no impact. It’s that self-doubt stepped in before the habit had time to take hold.
But what if you are doing it right—and your brain just doesn’t shout the answer?
Here’s a story I’ve never forgotten:
Back in college, I joined a mindfulness research lab that used electroencephalography, or EEG—a tool that measures brainwaves through a fabric cap dotted with electrodes. One day, the professor offered a tour of the setup, tucked away in the basement. She asked if either of us wanted to try it out.
Naturally, I volunteered to be the test subject. (How often do you get to see your own brain in action?)
The other research assistant carefully slid the cap onto my head, then filled each little plastic socket with cold, sticky goop to help conduct the signal. I sat facing the wall while the professor showed her how to prep the monitor. I couldn’t move much. So I closed my eyes.
And quietly focused on my breath, just at the tip of my nose. The coolness on the inhale. The warmth on the exhale. I was on my best meditation behavior—because obviously, if my brain was being watched, I wanted it to look enlightened.
Then—suddenly—
“Shhh,” the professor whispered.
Silence settled like dust.
Only the hum of the machine.
Only my breath.
in and out,
in and out.
Time stretched a little.
Then, soft as a bell:
“Eli… are you meditating?”
One eye opened, like surfacing from water.
“…Yes?”
“I can see it.” She said.
“The second you started talking, the pattern changed.”
Then, like a coach mid-game:
“Keep going.”
So I did—quietly, earnestly, like I didn’t want to break the spell.
Afterward, she pulled up the graph.
And there it was.
Before. After.
I was stunned.
Because I’d always assumed this kind of thing only happened to monks. Not a stressed-out college student.
But there it was.
Not just a feeling. Not just a hunch.
Something real. Observable.
I could see my brain changing.
And still—what landed even harder wasn’t what I saw on the screen.
It was tying that to what I felt.
That subtle shift in my body. The quietness in my breath. The way time seemed to soften for just a moment. I’d felt it before. I just hadn’t trusted it.
And now, there it was on the screen. Mirroring it back.
We live in a culture that often doesn’t believe something is real until we can see it. Brain imaging gets headlines. Graphs get grants. Emotional shifts? Often dismissed as “just in your head.”
But here’s the thing: it is in your head. And your body. And your breath. That doesn’t make it less real.
So many of us—especially when we’re just starting out—wonder if we’re “doing it right.” But one of my favorite meditation teachers once told me:
If your intention is to meditate, then everything that happens during that time is meditation.
Your thoughts, your restlessness, your doubts, your breath—all of it.
So here’s your micropractice invitation this week:
Try one breath. Just one. And let that be enough.
Focus on the sensation at the tip of your nose.
Cool in. Warm out.
That’s it.
And if your mind wanders?
Congratulations. You’re doing it.
Your experience is valid. Your small shift is real. You don’t need an EEG to tell you that. But if you ever do find yourself in a basement lab wearing a cap full of goop, it might just surprise you.
If you’ve ever doubted whether your micropractice (or or any meditative practice) counts—forward this to someone else who might need that same reminder.
You’re not doing it wrong.
You’re doing it.
And that matters.
Now available in graph form,
Eli Susman, PhD
Founder, The Micro Memo
Micropractice.com
Let’s make well-being a way of being.
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That's wild that your brain looks so much busier when all you're doing is focusing on your breath!
The fact that you still have the EEG from 2015 is gold! This is a good reminder for me to keep sticking to it.