Brain health in your inbox!

Subscribe to our free emails

Sign Up Now


We provide you with articles on brain science, timely topics, and healthy living for those affected by neurologic challenges or seeking better brain health.  

Speak Up
By Adam J. Weber

The Zen Zone

Meditation saved the author from self-pity after a diagnosis of primary progressive multiple sclerosis.

Illustration of man meditating
Illustration by Avalon Nuovo

By the time I was in my late thirties, I had all the trappings of success. I was married with two amazing children and had a thriving career as a commercial real estate appraiser. But like many professionally busy people, I traveled a lot, worked long hours, took on too many projects, and ratcheted up the stress. I also ignored health problems, like two herniated discs in my back and a torn meniscus in my knee from years of playing competitive sports. Other inconveniences included blurry vision and muscle spasticity that I attributed to age.

Eventually I needed surgery for my back. Before the operation, I underwent an MRI, and the doctors found small lesions on my spine. After the surgery, I was referred to a specialist at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City, where I was diagnosed with primary progressive multiple sclerosis (PPMS). I was told that of the four types of MS, PPMS is the most aggressive and debilitating, and I could expect a gradual but steady decline in my condition and function. Now the blurred vision and muscle cramps made sense.

I was devastated. I sat in my car and cried. For many minutes, I teetered on the brink of self-pity. Then I took stock: I was young and had a lot to live for. Self-pity wouldn't do. Instead of telling my employer, I resigned and started my own business, which allowed for a more flexible schedule and less stress.

The next decision I made proved transformational. I started to meditate. Over the years, I had dabbled in meditation but never made it a priority. Now I committed to it wholeheartedly. Within a month, I knew it was the right decision. I felt calmer and more relaxed—inside and out. Even my friends noticed. Some didn't like this new version of me. They preferred the hard-charging sports nut. But it was working for me and motivated me to go deeper. In addition to practicing it, I started reading and writing about it.

I still experience anxiety and stress, but it doesn't affect me in the same way. I used to get angry or upset. Now I'm able to stay grounded and focused. I'm also a more attentive husband and father. The more I practice, the more I can access meditation in every situation—at the office, in a grocery store, even at a New York Rangers game. I make better decisions, too, like cutting ties with clients and friends who create too much stress.

As my meditation practice deepened, I wondered how I could share its benefits with others. I wanted to reach people who thought meditation meant sitting for hours on a pillow in a soundproof room adorned with lit candles where soft music played. In the real world, though, cars beep, dogs bark, kids scream, and neighbors hammer away on home improvement projects. Distractions happen. The key is to accept them and practice anyway.

With that goal in mind, I took teacher training courses online and in person. Ultimately I developed my own meditation, called “Easy to Meditate,” that incorporates a mix of different types. That led to a podcast called  Meditation Not Medicine. The title isn't entirely accurate because I do take medication for my PPMS, which eases the physical symptoms, but meditation has given me a peace of mind no drug could offer.

And I have more control over my life than I've ever had. I think meditation has even flipped the switch on my disease. Although I wear a brace on my left leg and have problems with balance—sometimes I use a cane or walker—I believe the illness is progressing more slowly than it might otherwise have.

Most important, I feel a deep sense of gratitude—for my wife, my children, my career, and the tool of meditation, which helps me manage my disease.

Adam J. Weber is a speaker, author, and owner of Weber Real Estate Advisors and Weber Advisory Group. He lives in New York with his wife, Haley; his sons, Andrew and Daniel; and Churchill, a golden retriever/English setter mix.