"My mind is too busy for meditation," he said — describing, precisely, the reason to begin.
You've tried. You sat down, closed your eyes, and met a committee. Plans, replays, an itch, a song. You concluded you're bad at this.
But consider: you noticed the noise. That noticing is the practice. Most people live inside the noise without ever hearing it.
What I've noticed teaching for decades: nobody fails at meditation. They fail at an imaginary standard — a silent mind — that no teacher ever promised.
Meditation is not stopping thoughts. It is changing your seat: from inside the storm to the window watching it.
Some minds are loud from stress. Some from caffeine. Some from years of never being listened to. Loud is not disqualified. Loud is invited.
What if the busy mind is not the obstacle, but the entrance?
Sit for one minute. Count your thoughts like passing cars. Don't stop traffic. Just count. That's meditation.
If sitting quietly consistently triggers panic or overwhelming distress, practise with guidance — a teacher or therapist. Some doors open better accompanied.