How God Changes Your Brain - Andrew Newberg, M. D_ [12]
The third part of the meditation technique involves specific movements of the fingers. In the East, hand, face, and body gestures are called mudras, and in the Kirtan Kriya tradition, you sequentially touch your fingers with your thumb as you pronounce each of the sounds: sa, ta, na, and ma. The technique bears a similarity to the counting of prayer beads, a universal practice that can be found in Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism.
From a spiritual perspective, each mudra or mantra is associated with a theological or metaphysical idea,8 but from a scientific perspective, any form of repetitive movement or sound helps to keep the mind focused.9 This particularly interested me because the neural deterioration of aging often affects muscle coordination and verbalization skills. Thus, the Kirtan Kriya meditation seemed to be an excellent meditation with which to experiment. It was easy to learn and do, and we set up the experiment in a way that eliminated the need for the patient to embrace any specific religious belief. Best of all, our patients would only have to practice for twelve minutes a day. Other meditation studies often focus on rituals that last for much longer periods of time.
MEDITATION FOR CONSTRUCTION WORKERS?
Anyone, I thought, should be able to do this meditation with the minimal amount of instruction, but when Gus walked into my clinic, I suddenly had doubts. In all of our previous studies, our subjects had nurtured spiritual and meditative practices for years. Gus had never meditated, and he wasn't interested in religion. He just wanted his faltering brain to function better.
Gus was a relatively large man, a bit rough around the edges, but very pleasant. He seemed more like a plumber you'd meet on a construction site—you know, someone who was likely to zone out in front of the television with a couple of beers by his side. He didn't seem to be a meditation type of guy. Indeed, when I described the exercise to him, Gus clearly looked unhappy, but after we explained the purpose of the study, his enthusiasm returned.
“When should I do it?” he asked.
“First thing in the morning, just after you get up.” I said.
He thought for a moment, then replied, “The instructions said to ‘sing out’ during the meditation,∗ but I'm usually up around five A.M., getting ready for work. I'm afraid I'll wake up everyone in the building!” Gus, it turns out, was an industrial mechanic.
I knew what he meant because I had tried the mantra a couple of times and felt very self-conscious. After all, it does seem somewhat strange to be loudly chanting, “sa ta na ma” especially if you live in a crowded apartment complex in downtown Philadelphia. I told him that he could do it a little later, or, if he preferred, he could say it quietly.
Still, he seemed concerned. He wanted to do it “right” because he felt that his mental health was at stake, so I reassured him that it would not diminish the success of the practice. He felt satisfied with my response, and we proceeded to give him a series of tests to evaluate his cognitive abilities.
Then I took the first of four brain scans. The first one is called a baseline scan, during which he simply sat quietly for ten minutes listening to an intellectual description of the meditation