I Learned Meditation from a Machine – The World of Brain Biohacking Through Muse

There were times I wished my brain would just stop. Not because it hurt—more like it was “too awake.” Aristotle once said, “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” But for me, repetition became emotional exhaustion. I failed to concentrate, meditation became torment, and eventually, I felt more like a broken data processor than a tired human brain. That’s when Muse entered my life. It was a machine. A device that reads brainwaves. I was human—but to understand myself, I turned to a machine. It was ironic. And yet, it was the beginning.

Is Brain Biohacking Truly Human?

The first time I placed Muse on my head, I felt strange. Was I just being emotional? The machine read my brain, and I reacted. When I focused, it played birdsong; when my thoughts scattered, it turned into a storm. It was simple. But sometimes, simplicity is honesty. Even when my emotions were raging, my brain remained calm. On the other hand, when I felt peaceful, my brain was tense. That dissonance made me uncomfortable—but it was the first time I realized my emotions might be lying.

What Muse taught me wasn’t just the concept of biohacking—it was the “blank face” of the brain. The machine didn’t recognize feelings, and somehow that made it a brutally honest mirror of my inner state. Brainwaves don’t lie. And learning to adjust myself to that honesty was the first true step of brain biohacking. [Source: choosemuse.com]

But is that really human? To ignore emotions and shape myself based on brainwave data? I still don’t know the answer. But that question is what keeps me coming back to Muse every day. Whether I’m a human or machine matters less than this one fact—today, I wavered less than I did yesterday.

Can Emotions Be Measured?

Emotions are subjective. And yet, Muse converts them into numbers. When I was emotionally stirred, it broke down my brainwaves into alpha, theta, and beta waves—and I faced that data every day. At first, I resisted it. I’m an artist and a designer. The idea of defining my state with numbers felt too cold. But over time, those numbers formed patterns. And those patterns turned out to be more honest than emotions.

According to a report by the Kentlands Psychotherapy Center, using Muse consistently can lead to an increase in gray matter in the prefrontal cortex and enhance one’s ability to regulate emotions. [Source: kentlandspsychotherapy.com] These days, when I’m feeling off, I check the graph first. Not because I want to be rational—but because I’m genuinely confused about how I feel. Muse became a quiet tool that lit a path through the fog of emotion.

But measurement is not control. Recording my feelings didn’t mean I was suppressing them. I still cry, get irritated, feel fear. But now, I can tell when those emotions begin and end. The brainwaves remain silent—but in that silence, they taught me a lot.

Was the “Me” I Knew Ever Real?

One day, the Muse app showed me a “calm brain.” It didn’t make sense. That day I had exhausting meetings and a mountain of work—I was scattered, even angry. So why was my brain calm? Could it be that the way I feel and my actual state are two different things? It was a twist. I had believed I knew myself. But most of it, I realized, was just illusion.

After that, I started to “dismantle” myself with Muse. Each morning, I checked my brain state. I figured out when my focus started to fade. I tracked my sleep cycles and stress reactions—not by “feeling” them, but by viewing them as data. It was chilly. But strangely comforting. [Source: academia.edu]

✅ Brain Biohacking Core Checklist
- Muse provides real-time EEG-based brainwave feedback
- Scientifically validated for improving meditation, sleep, and focus
- Visualizes the gap between emotions and brain activity to enhance self-awareness
- Evidence of increased gray matter and improved emotion regulation
- Consistent use can fundamentally reshape self-perception

Habits Don’t Begin with Emotion—They Begin with Repetition

Now, even when I don’t use Muse, I can sense the state of my brain a little. But that sense was a gift from the machine. Every day, for seven minutes, I sat with it. During that time, I didn’t allow words or emotions. I only listened—to birdsong and waveforms. Strangely, that quiet feedback led my brain more gently than any emotion ever could.

Habits aren’t emotions. Emotions shake habits, and habits train emotions. Within that structure, Muse taught me excellence. It never forced me to feel anything. It didn’t unearth my chaos or try to soothe it. It simply showed it. And that was enough.

I Still Don’t Understand Meditation—But I Can Sit with It

I still don’t meditate well. My mind still wanders, and sometimes my brainwaves become even more scattered. But I’m no longer discouraged. Muse showed me that even on those days—I can still “just sit.” Meditation wasn’t something to be good at. It was something to sit with. To listen to. The kind of meditation taught by the machine was to illuminate myself through data, not feelings.

And so, I’ve come to understand Aristotle’s words, just a little: “We are what we repeatedly do.” Excellence was not emotion. It was repetition that transcended emotion. Muse didn’t make me excellent. It simply helped me sit down—every single day. And that was enough.

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