DOES IT ACTUALLY WORK?

It’s sitting silently, but not as you know it. We task a WH staffer to learn the mysterious method some of the world’s most creative minds swear by

Transcendental meditation

The first rule of transcendental meditation is that you can’t talk about transcendental meditation. What I can tell you is that it’s 3pm on a Monday and I’m in the basement of a London clinic, silently repeating a mantra to myself. I’m not allowed to divulge this mantra, such is the mysterious world of TM. Brought to the West from India in the late 1950s by Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, TM claims to improve your physical, emotional and spiritual life, helping you become ‘the sort of person you’ve always wanted to be, but never known how to be’, my teacher David Hughes tells me. Ellen Degeneres raves about it; Oprah’s a fan, too. So how do you get from sitting on a chair and silently repeating a word you don’t understand for 20 minutes twice a day to superhuman functioning? According to TM advocates, the technique allows the mind to settle down to experience a state of ‘coherence’ wherein different areas of the brain start to work in harmony. One Taiwanese study* found that those who did TM twice daily for six to 12 months improved their cognitive abilities compared with those who spent the same amount of time napping. But why all the mystery? Or is it more a case of exclusivity? You can only be taught TM over four 90-minute sessions, a privilege for which you can expect to pay £400-£600. As for that silent mantra, it’s a word in Sanskrit rather than a positive phrase or some such – and I’m sworn to secrecy lest TM be ‘diluted’. Suffice to say, I approach TM with a healthy dose of cynicism. But by the end of my first appointment, my mantra is rolling through my mind with ease; by session two I feel able to block out any random thoughts; by three I feel myself sinking into the sofa and my fingers start to tingle. So what’s going on? ‘Slowing your breathing slows muscle activity, and your brainwaves move into the alpha range,’ says Dr Norman Rosenthal, a psychiatrist who’s written two books on TM. ‘This is the reflective, calm range, where your brain starts working collaboratively,’ he adds. Hence the promise of big ideas. It’s relaxing, yes, but you’re unlikely to have a bright idea in that 20-minute window; the impact lies in the effects of regular practice. A month on, I’m still waiting for that light bulb moment. It’s more like a dimmer switch, brightening my mind in ways that I hadn’t anticipated. I’m more decisive; I’m listening to my gut; I’m caring less about the opinions of others. Small fry, perhaps, but to a chronic people-pleaser like me, this is big. True to Hughes’ word, they’re qualities I’ve always aspired to, but that have long eluded me. Whether it’s down to TM or the holiday I took after my final session, I’m not sure. But in lieu of a life poolside, I’ll stick with it.