Mindful Meditation

Using a meditative practice called Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction, or MBSR, Isicoff learned to acknowledge her pain, rather than fight it. Her negative and debilitating thought patterns—"This is getting worse," "I'm going to end up in a wheelchair"—began to dissipate, and she was able to cut back on her medication. The pain hasn't gone away, but "I view it is an ally now," she says. "Mindfulness is transformational."

With its roots in ancient Buddhist traditions, mindfulness is now gaining ground as an antidote for everything from type-A stress to chronic pain, depression and even the side effects of cancer treatment.

Studies have shown that mindfulness can reduce pain and anxiety.

Now researchers are using brain imaging and blood tests to study its biological effects, and early results are intriguing: this spring, the National Institutes of Health hosted its first conference on the topic. "People in the scientific community used to think that this was a lot of mystical mumbo jumbo," says psychologist Ruth Baer, of the University of Kentucky. "Now they're saying, 'Hey, we should start paying attention'."

Paying attention is the very essence of mindfulness. In 45-minute meditations, participants learn to observe the whirring thoughts of the mind and the physical sensations in the body.

The guiding principle is to be present moment to moment, to be aware of what's happening, but without critique or judgment. It is not easy.

Our "monkey mind," as Buddhists call the internal chaos, keeps us swinging from past regrets to future worries, leaving little time for the here and now.

First attempts may provoke frustration ("I'll never be able to do this"), impatience ("When will this be over?") and even banal mental sparks ("What am I going to make for dinner?").

The goal, however, is not to reach nirvana, but to observe the cacophony in a compassionate way, to accept it as transient, "like bubbles forming in a pot of water or weather patterns in the sky.

The keystone of mindfulness is daily meditation, but the practice is intended to become a way of life.

At Stanford University, Philippe Goldin encourages patients battling social anxiety disorder to take "meaningful pauses" throughout the day as a way to monitor and take charge of their fears and self-doubts.

"It breaks the circuit," says one participant. "I always thought that anxiety had me in its grip, but I realized it's the other way around. I have it in my grip. It's a matter of learning to let it go."

The biological impact of mindfulness—on the brain, the blood, the immune system—is the next frontier in scientific research.

In an intriguing study published several years ago, Kabat-Zinn found that when patients with psoriasis listened to meditation tapes during ultraviolet-light therapy, they healed about four times faster than a control group.

In an effort to understand how this kind of dramatic response is possible, scientists are hunting down mindfulness's biological footprints.

Kabat-Zinn and neuroscientist Richard Davidson, of the University of Wisconsin, found that after eight weeks of mindful meditation, a group of biotech employees showed a greater increase in activity in the left prefrontal cortex—the region of the brain associated with a happier state of mind—than colleagues who received no meditation training.

When the techies were given a flu vaccine, those with the greatest left-brain activation mounted the most vigorous antibody assault against the virus.

For Dalia Isicoff, the payoff is already clear: "I'm at peace," she says. Her mind and her body, together.