Meditation Helps You Make Calmer, More Accurate Choices

The author, Russell Simmons, says: "My success has always been rooted in the quiet moments I have lived through. The more of those quiet moments my life holds, the more happiness and fulfillment I get."

Prologue: The Richness of Stillness

I grew up in Hollis, Queens. Long before anyone called me "the music mogul" or "the godfather of hip-hop," my family and friends called me "Rush."

The nickname fit. Back then nothing could hold my attention for more than three minutes.

School, obviously not. Church on Sunday, no. Work, the same. A pretty girl might stretch the record by another minute, but soon enough I'd be rushing off after another one.

I rushed at everything — walking, talking, eating, even sleeping. Had I been born today, my family would have decided I had ADHD or a serious attention deficit, and they would have made me swallow double doses of Ritalin or amphetamines every day. Thank God that back then people only thought I was a little "wild."

So by my teens I came close to ending up as one more small-time hood on the streets of Queens. I looked up to the "number-book takers, thugs, pimps and pushers, and the big money makers" that Melle Mel sang about in "The Message," that early hip-hop classic, and I wanted to be one of them.

But obsessed as I was with that life, I never believed in it. Even when I envied the gangsters and the dealers, something in me kept saying there was a better life out there. Then I watched friend after friend sink into crime, gangs and addiction and never climb back out, and I decided to "take a different road."

I chose hip-hop. To almost everyone else it looked like a dead end. To me it was the perfect way to put across the energy and the spirit I felt on the streets of New York — and it was positive, full of good energy, with nothing destructive in it.

I don't want to brag about what I've done since I started out, but working alongside some enormously gifted artists, I did make things the world noticed. After that I made my mark in fashion, in film and in financial services; these days I mostly do charitable and public-service work. I've also spent years building a bridge between the wonder of hip-hop culture and mainstream American culture. I love that work. It has real force in it, and it keeps reminding me how lucky I am to be doing it.

The irony is that for years I had no idea what was actually driving my success. When I was a kid I naturally assumed the "point of success" was to pop countless pills, go to countless parties, sleep with countless women, and grab money anywhere, anytime. That was ordinary life in our world, and people kept telling me how good it felt — so who could blame me, right?

I didn't see it then, but looking back I was one step away from the truth about my own life. What pushed me to become a top hip-hop artist wasn't the thought of riding around in expensive cars. It was a quiet moment in which I heard my own inner voice. I was in the studio finishing the mix of Run-D.M.C.'s single "Rock Box" when a thought surfaced: I want to share this incredible feeling with the whole world.

The same with Phat Farm, my clothing line. What drove me wasn't a vision of snorting cocaine in some gilded nightclub with gorgeous models around me. It was the calm I felt looking at the drawing of a new jacket, the dizzying beauty of the design itself. A happy, successful life rests on these rare quiet moments, not on nights of neon and excess.

Today I have no doubt about this. If I had gone on believing that the noise and the restlessness were what drove me forward, my life would have collapsed long ago. The moment my records stopped selling, or my clothes stopped being seen as cool — and in those businesses that happens sooner or later — I'd have thought: I need to come up with something that sells again. I should go to more parties, get myself fired up. But no amount of drugs and no number of parties would have moved me an inch closer to success, and they certainly wouldn't have made me happier or more inspired.

That road would only have gotten in the way of the work, scattered my attention, and turned me into an addict or a hollow party ornament — in short, made my life worse.

What I took for my driving force was an illusion, and if I had kept feeding my mind that illusion, the quiet moments in which I could hear my own voice — the moments I badly needed — would have grown rarer and rarer. I would have kept pushing myself on, certain a glorious summit lay ahead, when what was waiting for me was a terrifying abyss.

Thank God I never actually went over the edge. I must have been frightening to watch, but I never crashed and burned on the track of life — plenty of the people I ran around with back then weren't that lucky. I was lucky enough that I didn't have to lose a job, lose a home or land in rehab before I woke up and saw I had been chasing the wrong things. I pulled up in time instead, and understood that my success had always been rooted in the quiet moments I had lived through. The more of those quiet moments my life held, the more happiness and fulfillment I got.

Honestly, without those quiet moments there would be no me today. They shaped more than my career; they shaped my body and my spirit. After more than thirty years in the entertainment business I still wake up every morning excited about the work. I can say honestly that whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be thrilled for it to arrive — the same feeling I had when Run-D.M.C. were about to walk onstage at Live Aid. To be in my fifties with the energy and the focus I had at twenty or thirty feels like a gift from above.

More than that: every morning I wake up knowing where I am, and knowing my family is beside me — my beautiful daughters, my wife, and my brothers Danny and Joey.

A day may bring all kinds of disagreements and detours, but by the end of it we can still share our love for each other. Nothing changes that love, and knowing it is an enormous comfort. The gold-plated panels on my walls and the expensive cars in my garage can satisfy me too, but none of it comes close to the love inside my family. My heart is full of gratitude every day, because I know exactly how those quiet moments changed my life.

I won't lie to you: it took me a long time to see all this — years, in fact. As I tell people quite openly, I took a lot of wrong turns before I finally understood that I prefer a morning meditation to a night of partying.

Once I got that straight, I never went back down those wrong turns again.

Excerpt

It helps me stay "awake" during the day

During the day every one of us is physiologically "awake," but not many people are truly "present."

Not long ago, at a party, I was talking with a well-known fashion designer, and we got onto this: I run all these businesses, I run several charitable organizations, I have my own life to live and I want to be a good father — how do I handle the pressure? He asked me, "Russell, I hear you use meditation to keep yourself steady. So tell me, what's the biggest benefit you get out of it?"

"Oh, that one's easy," I said, smiling. "It helps me stay 'awake' during the day."

I could see the answer confused him — did Russell mean he had narcolepsy? That without meditation he'd fall asleep at his desk or nod off in meetings?

When I say I want to be "awake" during the day, I'm not talking about physical drowsiness. If I get sleepy I can always drink coffee (though I rarely do) or an energy drink, or even try one of the less legal pick-me-ups I used in my wilder years.

What I'm really talking about is being present.

During the day, you see, every one of us is physiologically "awake." But not many people are truly "present."

And everything positive, fresh, happy, beautiful and loving in life comes out of the present.

When I say "being present," I mean truly joining with this instant. The noise and the distraction of the outside world drop away, and your mind settles on this real moment rather than on the past or the future.

I know that when I use words like "instant" or "moment," some people find them odd. They think: here comes Russell, about to hold forth on his "Zen" thing again.

But being present has nothing to do with foreign philosophy or mysticism. It is a state everyone knows well, a state we all experience (one hopes) every single day.

Take the instant you laugh out loud at a joke — that's being present. The instant you jump up cheering as your favorite team scores the touchdown that wins the game — present. The instant you're so deep in a book you almost forget to breathe — present again. We all know the feeling, even if we never called it that. We've all had it: absorbed in something completely, and the irritating things around you seem for a moment to stop existing. Watching your team score, you're not thinking about the report due next week. Reading a horror novel that grips you, you're not thinking about the bills you owe. You're simply enjoying the moment.

Take dancing. Why are some people great dancers while others are always a beat behind? We like to joke that Black guys are born knowing how to dance and white guys don't know what to do with their hands and feet — nonsense, of course. I've seen plenty of white people dance beautifully, and plenty of Black guys who couldn't dance to save their lives.

What makes a great dancer isn't background or the color of his skin; it's his grip on the present. Some people connect their whole heart to the music the moment they start moving with it.

They aren't worried about what anyone else in the club thinks of them. They're just answering, with full attention, the notes they hear.

When they really become one with the music, they start dancing on the beat. If you've ever watched a truly great dancer, you know what I mean. His steps aren't just in perfect sync with the bass line, the drums and the guitar; they seem to land with absolute precision in the gaps between the notes. When Michael Jackson did his signature kick, the beat wasn't dragging his feet along — he was pulling the beat out with his feet. That's what it looks like to be joined with the music. When he danced, he was completely present.

Now imagine moving through your life as smoothly and easily as Michael Jackson moving through his moonwalk, and feeling as light and happy as you do watching a great comedian work.

This isn't only a dream. Inside, every one of us is master of the present. We all have the ability to seize it — the way Michael Jackson does when he dances, Michael Jordan does when he plays basketball, or Chris Rock does when he's on stage doing stand-up.

That energy is in all of us. We just get distracted by the noise the world makes and fail to notice it. When the noise from outside dies down, you can take hold of what you feel in those present moments — laughing hard at a joke, lighting up at a song you love — and then extend the feeling. That way you won't feel present only now and then; you'll feel how good life is at every moment.

To help you accept this, in what follows I'll explain in detail how meditation can help you find your full potential and become the best version of yourself.

I also know that some of you are reading this book hoping to copy some of my success in business. So I'll talk as well about how meditation made me more balanced, more loving and less prejudiced — and I'll spend real time on why those qualities can make you a better businessperson too.