What can Mindfulness Meditation do for you?

One of the arms of the Buddhist Eightfold Path is "Right View."  There are many meanings to this, but one that I find under-utilized is the idea that when we set out on the path, it is useful to have a "view" to where we are going.  It's like looking at the map before we set out.  It's also useful once you've been on the path for a while, because then you can take stock of where you've been.  In this context, I want to consider some ways of thinking about what the goals of Mindfulness Meditation are.

Broadly speaking, there are two styles of meditation practice - Familiarizing and Cultivating.  Mindfulness meditation focuses primarily on the first of these.

It is important to start the journey by familiarizing yourself with your mind and emotions.  How can you change or improve something until you understand how it works?  If my car isn't running smoothly, just wishing for it to work won't help. Buying new seat covers or putting an inspirational CD in the CD player won't make it run more smoothly.  By knowing how the car works, we can focus our efforts to the place that can actually make a difference.  Similarly, we need clarity about our circumstances and ourselves to be able to make a difference, but often when things aren't going the way we want, we get caught up in blaming and feeling that it "shouldn't be this way," and then we make a bigger mess.

Mindfulness meditation starts us on the path to understanding how our minds work.  As we gain familiarity, it also begins to cultivate three properties: Tranquility, Stability, and Clarity.

Tranquility is often one of the goals people explicitly have when they begin meditating - they want to slow the mind down and have some sense of peacefulness or stress reduction.  It is worth noting that people often also have the belief that the goal is to stop thinking.  This is not correct.  The mind will always think - that's what it does.   The goal is to not be so hooked by the thoughts.

As we slow the thoughts down, we begin to be better at focusing our attention intentionally rather than being so easily distracted by the next thought.  This increased stability is sometimes called one-pointed focus.

As we gain stability and tranquility, we also begin to gain some clarity by seeing deeper into our true natures.

The classic analogy in Buddhism is if you scoop a glass of water out of a muddy river, it is undrinkable at first. There is too much sediment floating around in it, and no amount of effort will change that. You can't get the mud to settle out by shaking it hard or trying to force it to the bottom. Instead, if you let it sit quietly, the impurities will slowly settle to the bottom of the glass, leaving the water tranquil and clear.

The goal of meditation, therefore, is not to get rid of thoughts, but instead (1) to understand how our thoughts are constantly changing, impermanent, and empty, (2) to stop believing them as if they are "true," and (3) to stop believing that your thoughts are you.  These realizations lessen the control that your thoughts have over you, and opens up the way that you can begin to change.

Another way we can think about Mindfulness Meditation is that the focus is always on being present.  But what do we mean by that?

There are at least three different aspects of "being present" in Buddhist practice.  The most basic and stereotypical is a heightened state of focus.  You can test this by staring at an object or space on the wall. You may notice as you focus on it that the rest of the room may darken, blur, or get wiggly.  This one-pointed focus is ironically equally a rejection of all other things that are also present.  You can, however, learn to focus on the target yet also notice all of the things in the periphery, noticing the full environment. Therefore, heightened focus doesn't necessarily have to just be about one object (such as the breath), although it's often beneficial to start here.

The second way of being present is noticing a heightened vividness, vibrancy, clarity, and specificity of your experience.  I notice this most clearly doing walking meditations, where I am astounded by the colors, the vividness, and the detail that exists in the world.  Each leaf and blade of grass is distinct and clear and interesting.

The third way of being present is focusing on the Karmic momentum of each moment and being present in the "gap."  Ethan Nichtern describes this as "where the past is creating a tremendous momentum of feeling and impulse, but we haven't yet figured out how we're going to react to it....it's the awkward vulnerability between impulse and action."  That is, based on all of our past conditioning and all of the present causes and provocations and emotions, we experience some feeling.  We usually react to these feelings with habitual responses, but what if we didn't?  What if we instead were present with feeling the momentum of the moment?  (This is the gap between steps 7 and 8, or between 8 and 9 of the 12 Nidanas for those of you who want to be Buddhist geeks.)

So these are three more aspects we gain from Mindfulness Meditation.

What takes our mindfulness away?  Strong emotions and habits -- the momentum of the past and all of our conditioning and the present causes.  As discussed in a previous post, we tend to react to each new stimulus with either grasping, pushing it away, or ignoring it.  These are the Three Poisons of greed, aggression, and ignorance.  Every time we act based on one of these feelings, we strengthen our habitual responses, so we can no longer see the gap between feeling and our habitual reaction to the feeling.

Once triggered, emotions have strong energy.  One technique that Buddhism teaches to help us deal with these emotions is that of antidotes.  For each of the afflictive emotions, there is a series of things one can meditate on to counter them (see here, for example). Note that the core assumption underlying this approach is one of change.  We are trying to break the powerful link of our habits.

Once we have achieved some level of tranquility, stability, and clarity, we can begin to work with our minds and our habit energies, but Mindfulness Meditation isn't really designed to change them.

We usually enter a spiritual pathway and practice in order to change something about ourselves.  We want to reduce our suffering, to find ease in the midst of turmoil, to be of more benefit to others, etc.  Yet, Mindfulness Meditation doesn't get us too far down that path, but it's the first step on the path. Other meditation techniques focus specifically on changing our habitual responses.

But there's a paradox present here.  We know that we're really just a quivering mess.  We don't want to be a quivering mess.  But to be the kind of person we wish we were, we have to stop being a quivering mess.  But since we are such a mess, we're not the kind of person we want to be.  So how can we break out of this conundrum?  The way out is to practice capacities that you already have, such as compassion, joy, and love.

This moves us into the next style of meditation technique - those that focus on cultivating rather than familiarizing.  We use these techniques to help grow something that already exists in us.  The next post will begin to examine meditation techniques on what are called the Brahma-viharas, or the four heavenly abodes.


These thoughts adapted from talks given by Ethan Nichtern and Alan Watts, among others.  Image sources: Here, here, here, and here.

How should I wrap my presence?

Many platitudes about the holidays focus on the joy of giving.  Of course, ideas become platitudes by being generally true or at least by being generally accepted as true.  As a parent, I gain a great deal of joy from watching my children receiving gifts.  Yet, there is sometimes a dark side to giving.

Part of this dark side is the norm of reciprocity.  This is defined succinctly by the clip above from the TV show, Big Bang Theory, but basically when someone gives you something, we feel a need to reciprocate.  This is a powerful social norm which can change a joyous giving into a burdensome obligation.  One of the classic studies was conducted in 1974  by Phillip Kunz.  That year, he randomly selected 600 families he didn't know and sent them Christmas cards.

To these 600 strangers, Kunz sent his Christmas greetings: handwritten notes or a card with a photo of him and his family. And then Kunz waited to see what would happen.

"It was just, you know, a shot in the dark," he says. "I didn't know what would happen."

But about five days later, responses started filtering back — slowly at first and then more, until eventually they were coming 12, 15 at a time. Eventually Kunz got more than 200 replies. "I was really surprised by how many responses there were," he says. "And I was surprised by the number of letters that were written, some of them three, four pages long." (See article describing this study in more detail here)

This is the norm of reciprocity at work, and is especially surprising when you remember that these 3-page letters he received were not typed on computers and mass-produced -- they all were handwritten in 1974.

When considering our holiday gift-giving, do we feel it as an obligation or as a joy?  If it's stressful and obligatory, then is it really giving?  The first of the Paramitas (the perfections of the heart that we are cultivating through practice) is dana, or generosity.  The Buddha said (in the Dana Sutta), that there are three conditions that should be met:

1. Before giving, the mind should be glad
2. While giving, the mind should feel inspired (bright and clear)
3. After giving, the mind should feel gratified

Can we practice these three as we shop, as we give, and as we receive?

Perhaps part of what makes the giving difficult for many of us is that the focus becomes the gift itself, which as Nancy Thompson noted in a recent post, is empty.  Another practice is to recognize that we have much more to give than stuff.  Perhaps the greatest gift we can give is our presence. 

As we join with friends and family and others with whom we often have complicated feelings, can we drop the past feelings and be present with them as they are now?  Can we drop our judgments about them while we are with them?  Can we reduce the effect of our past conditioning and respond in a fresh way?  The person in front of you is NOT the same person he or she was last year (or even yesterday).  Can we see who they are at this moment alone?  Can we listen without needing to say our "side?"  Can we understand their point of view, without deciding if it's better or worse than ours?  This is really what most people want - to be truly listened to.  Presence is a present we don't need to wrap.

Photo credits: Here and here.

Peace on Earth and Good Will (Metta) to All

As we enter the holiday season, we will hear the traditional words from Luke 2:14, in which the shepherds abiding in the fields heard the heavenly host of angels saying, "Peace on Earth, and good will to all men." Regardless of whether one comes from this Christian tradition or not, or whether you find it easier to believe in miracles such as virgin birth or that such stories were grafted on to the historical Jesus to make it more palatable for Greek culture that has a long tradition of gods, er, "collaborating" with humans, there are some remarkable aspects of this story. 

First, in the same Gospel that discusses lofty individuals such as Caesar Augustus and Governor Cyrenius, it is remarkable that the message of good will came to shepherds.  Shepherds were not considered to be of high social standing, yet this message was given directly to them, and not to more "important" people, to CNN, or to government officials who could spread it more easily.  Perhaps this demonstrates that peace is something that can only be found and supported by individuals.  I cannot grant you peace, but I can try to maintain good will toward you which may help support your attainment of peace.  It is a grass-roots message, rather than top-down.

Second, I am struck by the discussion of good will to all mankind.  This is similar to Thanissaro Bhikku's definition of metta. I quote (from this excellent article):

"Metta" is usually translated as loving-kindness, but often it is more helpful to think of it as goodwill....Goodwill is often a more skillful attitude than overt expressions of love, and for three reasons.  The first is that goodwill is an attitude you can express for everyone without fear of being hypocritical or unrealistic.  If the people around you haven't been acting lovably, it's good to remind yourself that although you don't condone your behavior --you don't even have to like them--you still wish them well.

The second reason is that goodwill is a more skillful feeling to have toward those who would react unskillfully to your love.  There are probably people you've harmed in the past who would rather not have anything to do with you ever again, so the intimacy of love would actually be a source of pain for them, rather than joy. There are also people who, when they see that you want to express love, would be quick to take advantage of it.  In these cases, a more distant sense of goodwill--that you promise yourself never to harm those people or those beings--would be better for everyone involved.

The third reason is that goodwill acts as a check on your behavior toward those you love to keep it from becoming oppressive.  It reminds you that people ultimately will become truly happy not as a result of your caring for them but as a result of their own skillful actions, and that the happiness of self-reliance is greater than any happiness coming from dependency.  If you truly feel goodwill for yourself and others, you won't let your desire for intimacy render you insensitive to what would actually be the most skillful way to promote true happiness for all.

Many of us will come together this season with friends and family members with whom we have complicated feelings.  Neither we nor they may be ready to enter into full intimate and vulnerable lovingkindness.  Cultivating good will toward all, however, may be easier on both us and them, allowing space for all the complicated feelings.

As Thanissaro Bhikku notes, "there's a passage in which the Buddha taught the monks a chant for spreading goodwill to all snakes and other things...Strikingly, the chant concludes with the sentence, 'May the beings depart.'  This reflects the truth that living together is often difficult..."  

Good will can offer the space that we may find lacking when we come back together and are confronted with old patterns and difficult feelings.  Perhaps Luke wrote them backwards: Good will to all is what can create peace on Earth.

Image sources: Here and here

The Golden Rule Makes Us Golden Fools?

There is a Chinese proverb:

Once, when a seabird landed outside the capital, the Marquis of Lu escorted it to his ancestral temple, had the music of the Ninefold Splendors performed, poured out a cup of old wine, and spread before it a feast of beef and pork.  But the bird became dazed, and it pined away, refusing to taste meat or wine.  In three days it was dead.

This was treating the bird as the marquis would have liked to be treated, not as the bird would have liked to be treated.  Had he done so, he would have let it roost in the deep forests, play among the islands, swim in the rivers and lakes, feed on mudfish and minnows, fly with the rest of the flock, and live any way it chose to. (Translation by Stephen Mitchell)

We have all been taught the "Golden Rule," that we should do unto others as we would have done unto us.  This is a valuable basic teaching when we are immature, but by adulthood we should get past it.  By trying to treat others as we would be treated, we are not actually being mindful of them or their wishes.  The problem is that it works well a lot of the time, because many of the basics are generally true - we do want to be listened to, to be accepted, to be treated with respect.  But the devil is always in the details, and these are rarely the same for two people.

For example, I was in a relationship with a woman who liked to be left alone when she was ill.  So when I got sick, she would leave me alone all day.  The problem is, I really like to be babied when I'm sick.  So when she got sick, I would make a fuss over her and try to take as much care of her as I could.  Needless to say, we both always felt unappreciated, no matter which role we were playing.  I was treating her as I would like to be treated, and was annoyed that she didn't appreciate it, while she was annoyed that I wasn't leaving her alone.  When I was sick, I felt abandoned and neglected because she was treating me as kindly as she could (from her assumption that she should treat me how she would like to be treated).  We were both being so kind to each other and couldn't see how following the golden rule just made us golden fools.  

Needless to say, the relationship ended badly.

Recall that the Buddha is said to have taught many different teachings to different groups, based on their level of spiritual development.  It is likely that Jesus did too.  His teaching that we should do to others what we would like done to us (Matthew 7:12) seems to be an entry-level teaching - it's a great place to start.  But it sets us on a path where our assumptions and past knowledge dictate our behaviors, rather than being open to the unfolding new situation with a person who isn't you.  

Image sources: Here and here.

Letting Go is Not Giving Up

At my meditation group last night, we discussed “letting go” in the context of painful memories, anger, disappointment, frustration, and injury.  I found myself intrigued by what seem to be two different meanings – a conventional cultural one and the Buddhist one.

I’m sure most of us have had the experience of being told by well-meaning friends and family that we should just “let go” of our feelings about some injury or heartbreak we have suffered.  In fact, we’ve probably said the same thing to ourselves (or to other people) once we feel that the suffering has gone on long enough.  Letting go seems from this perspective to have a meaning of getting beyond the feelings, forgetting them, or giving them up.   This seems to be a very difficult thing to do, at least in the short term.

In contrast, I take a Buddhist perspective on letting go to mean something much simpler and more possible in the short term.  By bringing mindfulness to the situation at hand, we may be able to recognize that there is nothing to be done at this moment about our anger, frustration, etc.  Therefore, we can let go of the need to ruminate at that moment.  This approach recognizes that the painful feelings are honest – it validates the fact that we still feel them – but it also recognizes that the situation does not require action from us.  If the situation does require action at that moment, we would hopefully recognize it and take the needed action.  In my experience, however, most of the time I’m feeling some angst, it’s me telling myself a story from the past or about the future.  The feeling may be honest, but worrying about it at that moment isn’t helping me – it’s usually hindering my ability to be fully functional in my life.  Therefore, letting go is very useful.  I know the feelings may come back, but hopefully at a time when I can use them skillfully.

This approach is summed up nicely thus: “Letting go is not a one-time decision. It’s something we may need to do repeatedly. But the more we practice, the easier it becomes to come back to the present moment.” [Editor's note: I have finally tracked down the author of this quote - Lori Deschene, founder of TinyBuddha.com, from her e-book on Letting Go of Difficult Emotions]

Many teachers emphasize that this is one major goal of basic breath meditation – to teach us to recognize when we are not present and to let go of whatever thought or feeling took us away.  Practicing this little letting go on the cushion can help us to do it with larger feelings when we’re off the cushion.

I would be interested to hear whether people have found this to be true in their experience.

Sources: Quote, photo, photo. This was originally posted on the Interdependence Project blog.

Mudita and the Angry Itch

It's a real burden to want to be happy all the time.  In fact, it's such a burden that we often think others should help us to shoulder it - we look to others to "make" us happy, which is a Sisyphean task (at best). Not only that, but it's a thankless task, because we feel so entitled to be happy that when others "make" us happy, we take it for granted.  It can easily be the case that we only tell others about it when they're not making us happy - this is our angry itch.

With this mindset of expecting others to make us happy and punishing them when we're unhappy, it's no surprise that it's such a burden and that repeated scratching doesn't really ease the itch.  We become the cruel taskmasters of others' impossible tasks.

The real shame is that others can make us happy easily, without our micro-management or prodding.  All we need to do is cultivate mudita, sometimes translated as empathetic joy.  It is the opposite of schadenfreude (taking pleasure in others' suffering).  Instead, we take pleasure in others' successes, happiness, good fortune, and enjoyment.  

Parents may understand this perhaps more easily than non-parents, because we have so many opportunities to witness our child's joy in something in a way that cuts through our frustrations.  I may want to leave the park and get on with what I think I should be doing, but seeing my daughter's delight at finding a rock in the sand cuts through my preoccupations and shows me the joy in each moment.

It is significant that the four divine abodes (lovingkindness, compassion, empathetic joy, and equanimity) are considered to be antidotes to three poisons (plus one).  Cultivating lovingkindness toward others counteracts irritation and aggression. Cultivating compassion toward others counteracts indifference.  Cultivating empathetic joy counteracts greediness and jealousy.  Cultivating equanimity counteracts worry about the past and future.

At some points in our path, we can have a very selfish attitude toward the four divine abodes.  "Why should I spend so much energy trying to feel good about others when I have so much work to do on myself first?"   This attitude is misplaced selfishness - it's trying to scratch the angry itch that we can't really reach.  If we truly wanted to be successfully selfish, meditating on lovingkindness, compassion, empathetic joy, and equanimity will help us to feel better about ourselves.  Specific to mudita, if we learn to feel and share in others' joys, we then have many people helping us to feel happy, and they are doing it without our making them feel they should!  It's like the students who park outside my house to "share" my wireless internet connection (because I don't password protect it).  They get what they want just by being near someone who has it.  You can be happy just by sharing in the happiness that is going on all around you all day.  Finally, that itch can be scratched, and no one has to work to reach it!

This post originally appeared on the Inderdependence Project blog.

I Had Friends on that Death Star...

I’m wearing one of my favorite ϋber-geek t-shirts (shown to the left).  It reads, “I had friends on that Death Star.”  It makes me cry.  It makes me laugh.  It reminds me that there is always another side to consider.  My point of view is the minority.

In Buddhism, we often talk about “compassion,” but it’s sometimes unclear to me what we mean by it.  The English word comes from the Latin com- (together or with) and passio (to suffer), and therefore properly means to suffer with.  This strikes me as more than simple sympathy, where we can feel pity for someone’s suffering, or even empathy, where we can understand what it is someone else is feeling.  It is a dagger through our own heart.  We share someone’s suffering.

In Buddhist texts, the word that is most often translated as compassion is Karuṇā, and could also be translated as “mercy.” Elizabeth Harris notes that compassion seems to have three aspects in Buddhist texts:

Yet central to all is the claim that karu.naa concerns our attitude to the suffering of others. In the Buddhist texts the term often refers to an attitude of mind to be radiated in meditation. This is usually considered its primary usage. Nevertheless, the definitions of Buddhist writers past and present, as well as the texts themselves, stress that it is also more than this. Anukampaa and dayaa, often translated as "sympathy," are closely allied to it.[18] In fact, at least three strands of meaning in the term "compassion" can be detected in the texts: a prerequisite for a just and harmonious society; an essential attitude for progress along the path towards wisdom (pa~n~naa); and the liberative action within society of those who have become enlightened or who are sincerely following the path towards it. All these strands need to be looked at if the term is to be understood and if those who accuse Buddhist compassion of being too passive are to be answered correctly.

Psychologists note that empathy has both cognitive and emotional aspects to it.  We can cognitively understand someone else’s situation and why it may be difficult without having empathy for it.  To have empathy, we need also to have some understanding feeling that is compatible with the other person – we have to be able to see things from their point of view for a while.

It is surprisingly difficult to take someone else’s point of view, actually.  I have a little demonstration that I like to do in my college classes.  I get two volunteers from the class to come up front, and I make them sit back to back.  I give them each a baggie with about 10 or 12 Lego pieces in it.  The pieces are all distinctly different from each other – different shapes, sizes, and colors.  I tell one of the students to build whatever he or she wants but to describe it along the way so that the other student can build exactly the same thing.  The other student is not allowed to speak, ask questions, or make any noise – just to listen and build the same thing.  This really should not be that hard… it’s only 10 easily identifiable pieces.  Yet, in over 10 years of doing this exercise, the students have NEVER built the same thing.  This demonstrates how deeply egocentric we are.  When I see something, it seems so intuitively understandable to me that I can’t even guess how you might see it differently. 

Perhaps this is why compassion is one of the four “divine abodes.” We need to go beyond ordinary seeing to truly be able to understand someone else’s point of view.  But even the ability to see from someone else’s point of view may only get us to empathy.  What makes compassion different from empathy?

My current perspective on this question gets back to the Latin roots.  If we truly “suffer with” someone, we (1) begin to understand their perspective, (2) we feel what they are feeling, and (3) most importantly, we gain the motivation to reduce or end the suffering. 

Let’s be honest.  How many of us American Buddhists found our dharma practice deepened as a result of some trauma, loss, or other painful event?  Suffering brings with it the desire to end suffering (c.f., Brahmana Sutta and here).  This motivational aspect is one of the real benefits of suffering.

Compassion brings with it the motivation engendered by suffering.  In contrast, sympathy doesn’t require action – it just acknowledges someone else’s suffering.  Compassion, that is, suffering with someone, makes us want to do something.  It can help set us on the path to end suffering for others.

Image sources here and here.  This was originally posted on the Interdependence Project blog.