The Mindful Path to Self-Compassion

by Christopher K Germer

  Consistency can be a problem for butterflies. They have difficulty seeing a project through to completion and keeping promises to themselves and others. Over the course of a lifetime, the butterfly may feel that he or she is continually starting over, making lateral moves in relationships, career, and residences. The butterfly is likely to skip from one meditation practice to another, like drilling for water 10 feet in 10 places, rather than 100 feet in one place. The butterfly sacrifices depth for breadth.

  What does it take for a butterfly to stick with self-compassion practice? The butterfly first needs to experience the cost of flitting around: anxiety, loneliness, self-doubt. It’s unrealistic to expect a butterfly to work exclusively with one practice (for example, using the same metta phrases), but understanding the underlying principles, like talking kindly to oneself, can keep the butterfly engaged in the practice for a long time while changing the specific techniques along the way. The support of like-minded individuals is another ingredient that helps the butterfly maintain a consistent practice. More will be said about sustaining a practice in the next chapter.

  Outsider

  Do you feel like you just don’t fit in? Being an outsider in our society can become a core aspect of one’s worldview. There are so many reasons to be marginalized by others: racial prejudice, homophobia, devaluation of women, invisibility of older people, insensitivity to poverty, religious intolerance, ethnic biases, and illness or disability. Is your family background at odds with your current living situation, perhaps because you’re from a foreign country, a different socioeconomic class, or you had a difficult childhood? Even exceptional personal strengths like artistic ability or spiritual sensitivity can be invalidated by the dominant culture and make us feel like outsiders.

  It’s not necessarily bad to be an outsider. People living on the margins of society often have special insight into the unspoken assumptions of the majority. Martin Luther King said, “Almost always, the creative dedicated minority has made the world better.” Compelling new music, writing, visual art, cutting-edge comedy, and social critique come from outside the mainstream. Besides, our materialistic cultural values are certainly not a prescription for happiness.

  Nonetheless, the experience of disconnection from our culture can undermine one’s basic sense of wholeness. Consider the metaphor of a fish swimming in water: as the fish lives and breathes, it draws water through its own body. We’re like fish in the water of our culture, and when the water is polluted with racism, sexism, and ageism, we draw those prejudices inside. It’s very difficult to be gay in a homophobic society without experiencing internalized homophobia, or Asian in a Caucasian culture without carrying around anti-Asian stereotypes. Self-image is inseparable from the culture that creates it.

  Socially and culturally generated pain must be recognized and held in kindly awareness. Responding with bitterness to messages of fear, anger, or hatred increases suffering, as does prejudice silently taking root within us. Simply feeling invisible to the outside world can cause tremendous pain. The Ecuadorian essayist Juan Montalvo wrote, “There is nothing harder than the softness of indifference.” If you feel like an outsider, start by noticing when you feel the pain and then respond to it with self-compassion: “May I be free from anger and fear.” “May I love myself, just as I am.”

  Floater

  Are you good at going with the flow and living in the moment? Floaters are generally agreeable people. They follow the tide and fit easily into new situations. They respect the opinions of others because every point of view is valid within a particular context. Their lives are directed more by synchronicity—seemingly random events coming together—than by personal goals and desires. They live in the present moment.

  Taken to an extreme, floaters can be detached and noncommittal. For some floaters, “going with the flow” is an excuse for avoiding difficult challenges, resulting in passivity and lack of direction. The floater can become derailed during self-compassion practice when old emotional wounds surface.

  The greatest challenge to a floater is commitment: identifying, trusting, and pursuing one’s deepest convictions. The floater should begin self-compassion practice by asking, “What’s my heart’s desire? What really matters in my life?” Deeply held values and commitments (for example, relationships, work, health, leisure) help us overcome obstacles along the way. For example, the pain of childbirth is easier if a woman desperately wants to be a mother, and a bad job is tolerable when you really need the money.

  Cultivating self-compassion requires commitment because it goes against the tide—the tendency to resist emotional discomfort and blame ourselves when things go wrong. Given that the floater is already skilled at present-moment awareness and letting go, self-compassion practice can be smooth sailing once the goal is firmly established.

  Moralist

  Do you become easily indignant with people when they behave badly? Moralists have a strong sense of right and wrong. They thrive in a parent role, such as law enforcement or clergy, where correct conduct and thinking are valued. Moralists can be relied upon to set clear standards and defend them against threat. The moralist attitude is often welcomed in times of political and social upheaval.

  Moralists apply strict moral codes to themselves as well as to others. They’re often surprised when they realize that other people’s lives are conducted on an entirely different basis from their own. The poet George Herbert wrote, “Half the world knows not how the other half lives.” Moralists can get caught in “righteous indignation” when they perceive an ethical lapse in others and can become excessively self-critical when they detect their own shortcomings.

  During self-compassion practice, it’s necessary for moralists to let go of preoccupation with how other people behave just long enough to discover how righteous indignation feels in their own bodies. The alternative to righteous indignation is not immorality but rather an assessment of what’s necessary to guide others into less harmful activities. A more benign standard of behavior than “right” versus “wrong” is whether an action decreases or increases suffering. We don’t need to stiffen ourselves in the presence of misbehavior to respond effectively.

  A rigid ethical system also blinds us to unattractive parts of ourselves, such as lust, envy, greed, hatred, and selfishness, which makes them less manageable. We’re repeatedly assailed by news reports of holier-than-thou politicians who get caught in sexual imbroglios. When we learn to recognize these all-too-human tendencies in ourselves, without shame and denial, we have a chance to steer them in more beneficial directions.

  Finally, the moralist is likely to feel that self-compassion is self-indulgent. The self-indulgence argument can also be a way of dodging the unlovely aspects of our own personalities: what we don’t know can’t hurt us. Unpleasant feelings like lust, anger, envy, and greed will definitely pop up in the course of self-compassion practice, and hopefully the moralist can suspend self-judgment long enough to work with them.

  Extravert and Introvert

  Do you enjoy your own inner life, or do you prefer to be around others? “Extraverts” are gregarious, generally happy people who prefer the company of others rather than being by themselves. They enjoy activities like acting, political organizing, social networking, and management. They tend to think on their feet. Extraverts become restless when alone and are relatively unaware of psychological needs and problems.

  In contrast, “introverts” enjoy the inner life. They like relatively solitary professions such as writing, art, and science. Introverts tire easily in social gatherings because they become overstimulated. Introverts are not necessarily shy—afraid of being criticized by others—but simply prefer their own company. They like to mull over what they plan to say before they speak. Research shows that genetic and brain differences may partially account for the differences in temperament between introverts and extraverts.

  It would appear that extraverts are ill-suited for contemplative practices like meditation. Most of us, howev
er, fall somewhere along a continuum from introversion to extraversion—we like good company and we appreciate periods of solitude as well. Self-compassion practice, especially metta meditation, has something to offer both introverts and extraverts because it is both solitary and relational.

  There are a number of ways to adapt self-compassion practice. The main challenge to extraverts is the uneasiness that can develop when sitting alone. The extravert should be encouraged to practice informally—during the day, while in the company of others— rather than tied to one place. For example, walking metta meditation (Chapter 7) fosters a sense of connection to others. When working with the loving-kindness phrases, the extravert can also emphasize the word “we” rather than “I” to feel connected with others (“May we be happy and free from suffering”). If you’re an extravert and want to do sitting meditation, it’s helpful to address uncomfortable feelings by labeling them as they arise (“bored,” “restless,” “anxious”). Finally, the extravert might enjoy the “Giving and Taking” meditation described in Appendix B. Giving and taking meditation is usually practiced in relationship to others, in both private and social settings, and it doesn’t require as much psychological mindedness as metta meditation.

  The challenge of loving-kindness meditation to introverts is just the opposite: it’s often too relational, and the introvert needs to regulate just how much “relationship” feels comfortable. Since private meditation tends to come easily to introverts, they should be wary of using the practice to hide from social contact. Some introverts find that metta practice reduces their stress level in social settings when they send loving-kindness to the other people in the room. The goal for both introverts and extraverts is to maintain a healthy balance between solitude and engagement with others and to feel comfortable in both settings.

  WHAT’S HOLDING YOU BACK?

  Once you understand your personality style, you can also benefit from knowing the five mental “hindrances” that everyone encounters on the road to self-compassion: grasping, aversion, weariness, agitation, and doubt. Different people tend to be vulnerable to some of these traps more than others. For example, the caregiver tends to suffer from grasping, the moralist from aversion, the floater from weariness, the workhorse from agitation, and the intellectual from doubt. A hindrance may crop up at any time, and when we can identify it (“Ah, clinging”; “Oh yes, doubt”), it begins to subside. We don’t want to battle the hindrances; rather, we want to accept their existence and work with them in skillful ways.

  Start with the assumption that you can be free from suffering, in this very moment, right here, right now. Let a sense of well-being be the background of your practice. Then, when there’s “disturbance in the field,” ask yourself which of the following hindrances might be occurring. Bring mindfulness and loving-kindness to the hindrance, rather than trying to drive it out.

  Grasping

  We instinctively grasp for pleasure and for things that we hope will give us pleasure. If we don’t get what we want, we feel disappointed. For example, imagine how you would feel if you discovered that your favorite musician would be playing in a nearby town, only to find out that the tickets were already sold out. A desire that hadn’t even existed before leaves you feeling disappointed.

  We also cling to what we enjoy and feel sad when it ends. If you had a nice bowl of ice cream, you might have wanted to enjoy the taste forever and felt disappointed when you finished it.

  Grasping and clinging are similar expressions of desire. The Buddha said that desire is like taking out a loan; it’s repaid by loss and separation when the pleasure is used up. Desire per se is not the problem; it’s when we become a slave to our desires that we experience unhappiness. We need to hold our desires lightly.

  We should be especially wary of becoming too attached to the good feelings that will arise during self-compassion practice. If you cling to love and happiness, your practice will become more frustrating than uplifting. Good feelings will arise and disappear as night follows day. An antidote to the hindrance of clinging to pleasurable feelings is to return to the practice of cultivating good will for yourself in spite of how you feel. When you’re disappointed, exercise self-compassion because you feel disappointed.

  Aversion

  This book is primarily about overcoming aversion. Other words for aversion are “avoidance,” “resistance,” “entanglement,” “disgust,” and “resentment.” Aversion is what we instinctively feel toward disturbing feelings. We can experience aversion toward an internal state, like anxiety or depression; toward an external object, like an open wound or spoiled food; toward other people, in the form of anger or fear; or toward ourselves. The Buddha called aversion a “sickness” because it ruins our health, and the antidote he prescribed was loving-kindness.

  Aversion keeps us from seeing what’s bothering us, from understanding it, and from working with it skillfully. When aversion is directed toward ourselves, we lose the ability to comfort and forgive ourselves for our mistakes. Sharon Salzberg suggests that we look at anger and aversion from the perspective of a Martian who’s seeing them for the first time. “What is this?!” Curiosity is the first stage toward overcoming aversion. The subsequent stages, given in Chapter 1, are “tolerance,” “allowing,” and “friendship.” We can move gradually from timid curiosity about what ails us to appreciation and respect. The same is true for the shameful and unlovely parts of ourselves. Self-kindness gives us the chance to learn more about what’s bothering us, and ultimately to release it.

  Weariness

  This hindrance is also known as “dullness of mind,” “mental inertia,” “sloth,” “torpor,” and “boredom”—lack of interest in the practice of self-compassion. The opposite of weariness is the sense of delight that a child feels when encountering a fascinating object for the first time.

  Is it possible to keep self-compassion practice as interesting as it felt in the beginning, perhaps with eyes moist with tears the first time you realized its true promise? That’s unlikely, but it helps to remember why you started to practice. The reason was probably “to feel better!” Somewhere along the line you might have begun to practice in a mechanical fashion and forgotten your purpose. “I have to go to work … got to meditate first … can’t concentrate … 10 minutes to go….”

  When you sit, see if you can really, REALLY, let yourself be happy and free from suffering. When discomfort arises, meet it with love and awareness and let it go. If you have a metta practice, savor the true meaning of the words and remind yourself of the target of the practice: yourself. Give yourself the experience of love and compassion however it comes most easily to you. Few of us can resist the attractive power of true love.

  Weariness can descend upon the practitioner when the practice becomes too repetitive. The art of self-compassion, like all meditation, has an element of repetition. More than that, however, meditation is an active process of working with the skills of single-focus awareness, open-field awareness, and loving-kindness in creative sequences and combinations. Consider yourself like a captain on rough seas, always needing to make a course correction. Stay alert to the conditions that arise in each successive moment and make the most of them. You’ll get bored and have a rougher ride if you switch to autopilot.

  Agitation

  Agitation is also known as “restlessness,” “remorse,” or “anxiety.” It refers to dissatisfaction with the way things are and the need to move on … somewhere, anywhere. The Buddha called agitation a tyrannical boss who’s never satisfied. Regret over the past or worry about the future keeps the practitioner perpetually agitated.

  Agitation can be quelled in numerous ways. The first step is to live your life with the fewest regrets. You’ll feel the need to keep running if you leave a trail of misery behind you. Generous deeds can’t protect you from being mistreated (“No good deed goes unpunished”), but you’re more likely to feel peace of mind at the end of the day if you make others happy.

  Another strateg
y for reducing restlessness is to appreciate the present moment. Ajahn Brahmavamso, a meditation teacher, said, “The fastest progress … is achieved by those who are content with the stage they are on now. It is the deepening of that contentment that ripens into the next stage.” How do we experience contentment in the present moment when the present moment doesn’t feel good? Rather than daydreaming about the future, we can reanchor ourselves in the present moment by labeling exactly what we’re feeling—“urgency,” “restlessness,” “anxiety”—and by softening into the physical experience of agitation. Restless legs? Clenched teeth? Deeper feelings may emerge when we don’t react to restlessness, such as fear of being forgotten or left behind. Once we contact the discomfort of restlessness, or the suffering behind it, compassion can flow naturally. And the agitated heart will rest when it feels truly loved.

  Doubt

  The last hindrance, doubt, refers to skepticism about the practice or one’s ability to succeed at it. When the mind is doubting, it isn’t experiencing compassion or loving-kindness. Much time and energy are wasted in doubt.

  The questions that most students bring to their meditation teachers are often tinged with doubt. For example, “Will I really make progress if just accept what I’m feeling in the present moment?” Teachers listen compassionately to their students’ experiences, validate positive changes, and generally leave their students feeling less alone and more optimistic. The Buddha said doubt was like being lost in a desert. Every student will get lost from time to time in the particulars of his or her experience and will need someone or something that reveals the bigger picture. Buddhist psychology is such a roadmap and has been guiding students for over 2,500 years.