People often ask me questions about posture and meditation—whether they should sit on the floor, in a chair, or if it’s okay to lie down. That’s an important consideration because if you’re feeling uncomfortable—whether you’re attempting to sit cross-legged on the floor, on the edge of your bed, or in a straight-back dining room chair or metal folding chair—you’re probably not going to be able to meditate for very long, if at all. The ideal meditation posture depends largely on the specific kind of practice you’re doing, your body type, and your personal preferences.

Full lotus (Padmāsana), the classic seated posture where both feet are placed on the opposite thighs, or half lotus (Ardha Padmāsana), where one foot is placed on the opposite thigh while the other rests on the ground, are examples of positions ideally suited for practices like pranayama. These postures provide stability and alignment, making them ideal for focused breathing exercises and other meditative practices.

Many Buddhist traditions also emphasize the importance of proper posture during meditation, as it supports focus, stability, and the flow of life force. The Tibetan Buddhist tradition often references the seven-point posture of Vairochana, which provides detailed guidance for the body’s alignment. This includes sitting cross-legged, ideally in full or half lotus, resting the hands in a balanced mudra, keeping the spine straight, shoulders relaxed, chin slightly tucked, eyes gently open or closed, and the tongue resting on the upper palate.

Other Buddhist traditions, while perhaps less formal, still emphasize the significance of sitting upright without back support to promote alertness. Many practitioners use a zafu (meditation cushion) to elevate the hips and ensure comfort, allowing the spine to remain naturally aligned. This simple yet intentional setup reflects the balance between relaxation and effort that is central to Buddhist meditation.

Having trained for many years with a Taoist Master, in the internal arts of Xin Yi Quan and Baguazhang, I’ve spent many years practicing Chi Gong. Many of these practices involve various standing or squatting postures, some of which can be quite strenuous. A number of these practices also incorporate physical movement, adding a dynamic element to the cultivation of chi (life force).

Other practices are performed while sitting on a flat surface, such as a bench, with the thighs parallel to the ground and feet flat on the floor—though there are also practices done in cross-legged positions. Across all of these practices, there is a strong emphasis on the cultivation of chi and its movement throughout the body. At higher levels, they involve a kind of internal alchemical process, where one continually refines and transforms the various forms of chi to develop both the body and the mind in profound ways. This integration of the body and mind, while harnessing the elemental forces of the Earth and the heavens, lies at the heart of Taoist practice.

I have known and worked with people who, even though they haven’t necessarily done much—or any—formal training in Buddhist or Hindu-Vedic meditation practices, are comfortable and even prefer to sit upright on the floor, with or without a cushion. This has a lot to do with pelvic rotation. When the pelvis naturally rotates forward, it’s much easier to sit upright. If it’s rotated back, though, you’ll likely find that your back starts to hurt.

Even though I hadn’t done any formal training in either Buddhist or Hindu-Vedic lineages, I was intuitively drawn to meditation and started practicing on my own in my early twenties. Initially, I sat cross-legged on the floor without a cushion for extended periods, thinking that was the thing to do, though I always leaned against the wall for back support.

Over the years, I transitioned to sitting in a chair during meditation. Since I travel a lot for work, I often find myself in all kinds of different spaces. Wherever I go, I’m always seeking out the most comfortable chairs I can find, where I can sit reasonably upright. There are several reasons I much prefer sitting in a chair. For one, I usually meditate for one to three hours at a time, and I’ve found that I’m able to sit far longer and go into much deeper states when I’m comfortable. Second, given the immense challenges I face—namely, doing my work in a society that is so distracted and not always receptive—I see no point in subjecting myself to additional discomfort by sitting on the ground or even on a cushion without back support. Taking all of this into consideration, sitting comfortably best serves my needs.

Even while sitting in a chair to meditate, I remain mindful of my posture—sitting fairly upright while allowing my body to be comfortably supported by the chair. I take in full, deep breaths, inhaling all the way down to my abdomen, expanding my rib cage, and then exhaling fully. With the support of a comfortable chair, I’m not distracted by bodily discomforts, which allows me to let go more easily. When I have the opportunity to sit for longer periods—ninety minutes, two hours, three or more—I can feel the innate healing intelligence within my body and mind at work, diffusing and digesting my lived experiences, along with any stresses and residual emotions.

Another factor to consider for those who strive to adhere to the more traditional styles of meditation practice is that many yogis, gurus, sadhus, and Buddhist monks who spend extensive time in sitting meditation—especially in cross-legged positions like full or half lotus—often develop issues with their hips, knees, and other joints over time. This is commonly due to the strain placed on the joints and ligaments when sitting for prolonged periods without sufficient movement or proper alignment. If you’re going to be sitting on the floor in a cross-legged position, consider incorporating practices like yoga, tai chi, walking meditation, or other forms of movement to balance your sitting practice.

People often ask me if they can lie down to meditate. I generally sit up when doing meditation practice and I encourage those I work with to do so as well, because laying down is more commonly associated with sleep and we're more likely to drift off to sleep when we're laying down.

There have been, and still are, times when I make an exception to this rule. When I found myself reenacting the traumas of my childhood and adolescence during my mid to late twenties, I would often be laying on my side, in many instances for hours at a time, breathing from the depths of all those painful emotions that were surfacing. When the banksters (criminals within our financial institutions) crashed the economy in 2009 and the bottom fell out from under so many of us, I would often lay on my back in bed for hours when I couldn't fall asleep, breathing into the all-consuming anxiety until I finally drifted off.

Yoga Nidra, often referred to as “yogic sleep,” is an ancient practice rooted in both Tantra and Vedanta traditions. It guides practitioners into a meditative state between sleep and wakefulness, allowing access to deeper levels of relaxation and self-awareness. Unlike most other forms of meditation, Yoga Nidra is practiced lying down in a comfortable position while being guided through systematic stages of mind-body awareness, breath control, and visualization. This practice can be profoundly restful and rejuvenating, while also serving as a pathway to self-realization.

Some of the deepest meditative states I’ve ever experienced have been while spending time in sensory deprivation flotation tanks. These tanks are designed to create an environment that minimizes sensory input—you’re on your back, suspended in a bath of saltwater, in complete darkness and silence. The absence of external stimuli provides a unique opportunity to focus entirely on your breath, subtle sensations, emotions, and whatever challenges you may be facing.

In this state, I’ve experienced visions, flashes of clarity, and have come up with all kinds of workable solutions. At times, I’ve also accessed states of heightened spiritual awareness—similar to the insights gained during extended retreats or periods of isolation in nature. There have even been moments when a deeper level of mind takes over, and the articles I’m working on write themselves.

Traditional long meditation sessions often involve physical discomfort, particularly when sitting in cross-legged or other challenging postures. Flotation tanks eliminate these challenges, allowing us to fully immerse ourselves in the meditative process without distraction.

Sitting in complete stillness while meditating definitely has its advantages, but it's not always necessary. For those who feel overwhelmed—especially when dealing with trauma—or who find stillness particularly challenging, I often recommend walking meditation. I typically begin by guiding them to bring whatever is concerning them to the forefront of their awareness, notice how they’re feeling in response, and then breathe softly and deeply while fully immersing their awareness in the depths of their feelings and bodily sensations. One of the great advantages of walking meditation is that it helps diffuse overwhelming emotions, grounds them more fully in their bodies, and allows them to access deeply meditative states while their body is in motion.

As previously mentioned, I started out meditating sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the wall for back support. Years later, I began doing hours of intensive daily martial arts training in Xin Yi Quan and Baguazhang, which includes a lot of Chi Gong practices involving squatting and holding other strenuous postures for extended periods. By the time I developed my own system of meditation practices in my mid-twenties, I discovered that I much preferred meditating while sitting comfortably in a chair.

If you're doing any form of intensive practice such as pranayama, I do recommend that you follow the guidance and sit in full or at least half lotus posture. Or if you're doing Taoist Chi Gong, you want to adopt the postures that are specific to the practices you're doing. Aside from that, I encourage you to be willing to explore—try different meditation practices and postures to determine what works best for you.

I teach a series of intensive meditation practices—each designed to awaken your body and mind's innate healing intelligence. Ready to take your mindfulness journey to the next level? Click the link to call or message me today to learn more or schedule an individual session. Let’s explore what’s possible together!