THE GRAND REFRAME
Self-compassion offers a novel approach to life experience: we sit comfortably in the midst of our own uncomfortable emotions, letting them take their course as we soothe and comfort ourselves. In the words of Ajahn Brahm, a meditation teacher, “When you visit someone in the hospital, talk to the person and leave the doctors and nurses to talk to the sickness.” When applied to ourselves, that’s self-compassion. We’re attending to ourselves with great kindness, especially when our condition seems hopeless.
The key question is “Am I meeting more and more of my life experience with kindness and understanding?” That is, how consistently do you respond to yourself in a kindly way when things go wrong? Do you soothe and nurture yourself when you feel sadness, grief, longing, or rage? When you fail at something, are you sympathetic with yourself for failing? If you fall down 100 times, are you willing to pick yourself up 101 times? Is self-kindness gradually becoming a new way of life? A client of mine once remarked, “Taking 2 minutes more in a warm bath is one step toward staying in warmth one’s entire life.” Another said after a year of committed practice, “The practice is my own—now it works. I know the feeling. It’s part of me.”
You can’t fail at this endeavor. Every day provides fresh opportunities to meet suffering with kindness, and every time you do that you’re a success. Those moments may add up to a lifetime. You also have sufficient support for the practice—you were born with the motivation to be happy and free from suffering. The combination of innate desire and the self-rewarding nature of self-compassion will keep you on the path.
STAGES OF SELF-COMPASSION
Everybody starts practicing self-compassion in order to feel better. That’s natural, but it’s an ultimately flawed agenda because it pits us against the way things are, which leads to no good. Eventually we give up this agenda and move to a more refined understanding of the practice. Selff-compassion goes through three distinct phases— infatuation, disillusionment, and true acceptance—culminating in self-compassion for its own sake.
Infatuation
I often introduce the loving-kindness phrases in therapy by saying: “If you feel comfortable doing so, please close your eyes, and I’d like to say a few phrases that you can roll around in your mind and carry with you throughout the week. They may make you feel better by changing how you treat yourself when things go wrong.” Then I slowly recite the metta phrases two or three times: “May I be safe. May I be happy. May I be healthy. May I live with ease.” People who’ve been fighting with themselves for a long time are attracted to the phrases like bees to honey. They fall in love with them. It’s not uncommon for tears to flow if the practice is destined to make a significant change in the person’s life. Tears signify the beginning of the end of the struggle.
One such person was Tanya, a 57-year-old magazine editor, who had been suffering for two decades from a severe case of insomnia. Previously, Tanya had given me three typed pages listing all the insomnia treatments she’d tried. She’d gotten to the point where she couldn’t imagine living like that for another 30–40 years. I listened to Tanya’s story for three sessions before she asked me to weigh in on it. I shared the loving-kindness phrases with her, and 1 day later Tanya wrote the following e-mail:
I left your office yesterday with the phrases in my head. I dropped off the car at my husband’s office, then walked along the Charles River to go home. The leaves on the trees and the grass were so green, almost neon, and undulating supernaturally. Everything seemed so vivid. I stopped to watch the goslings, then saw a seagull catch a fish. The air was almost a perfect temperature, though the light was dim through the heavy cloud cover. When I got home, I saw my new home from a different perspective. All of my hard work on it shone. The angles and curves of the architecture were apparent to me, as if I had just awoken to the beauty of it. I made dinner and enjoyed being in the house for the very first time. My husband came home and we had dinner and there was an easy tranquility between us. Then I went to bed … and I slept almost the entire night. I just woke up twice.
Tanya’s sleep improved dramatically for the next 5 weeks. Although an intense awakening like this is relatively rare, it reflects the sense of revelation that can occur when we let go and accept ourselves for the first time.
The infatuation phase of self-compassion eventually has to end, though, because it’s based on the narrow wish to feel good. Like any love relationship, some unpleasantness eventually intrudes and pops the bubble of infatuation. But some important groundwork has been laid. The heady experience of loving oneself—letting go of fighting the way we are—gives confidence that seemingly intractable emotional problems can indeed be worked through.
Disillusionment
Disillusionment hits when the practice doesn’t work anymore. It fits into a broader framework, succinctly stated by meditation teacher Rodney Smith: “All techniques are destined to fail!” That’s because “techniques” are employed to feel better, and the only way to feel better in the long run is to abandon trying to feel better. Hence, all techniques are inherently flawed. More to the point, our underlying motivation is flawed, and it has to gradually shift if self-compassion exercises are to remain effective.
Although the disillusionment phase initially caused me some confusion, both as a practitioner and in my role as a psychotherapist, I have since learned to welcome it. Disillusionment is an opportunity as well as a crisis. For example, Tanya had a bad night after her first 5 weeks of refreshing sleep. She panicked and was up 14 times for 3 nights in succession. Her openness to giving herself kindness had been eclipsed by the older habit of trying to feel better. I reminded Tanya that trying so hard to fall asleep had caused 20 dreadful years of insomnia and we weren’t going to allow her despair and panic to become the reason for another 20 years of this hell. The question was “Are you practicing self-compassion to fall asleep or because you suffer? It will fail if you use it to fall asleep, and it will succeed if you just love yourself when you are filled with fear and despair.”
The disillusionment phase isn’t fun. Tanya’s struggle with disillusionment came out in another e-mail:
But I feel angry … at who or what, I’m not sure. I just feel very, very angry that I can’t seem to rely on my body to sleep. It doesn’t make me feel very optimistic about the future, and then I get even more angry. So okay, I will try not to try and just let it be.
The disillusionment phase is a “relapse” that can become a “prolapse”—a step forward—when we work with the problem behind the problem.
I often tell my patients in the disillusionment phase that the measure of their efforts is not how anxious or depressed they may feel from week to week, but how willing they are to feel that way. Acceptance is a more reliable measure of progress than random fluctuations in mood because it’s the only factor that’s under our conscious control. In Tanya’s case, the questions were clear: How willing are you to be awake at night? Can self-compassion help you accept sleeplessness?
True Acceptance
True acceptance is a natural ripening of practice. It can’t be forced. There’s a wisdom aspect, plus the requisite kindness. When we truly accept, we realize in a deep, intuitive way that antagonizing ourselves is wasted effort and that the only intelligent alternative is to let go. In the true acceptance phase, acceptance and self-compassion can occur in a flash, often with only a touch of conscious awareness. One client of mine who formerly suffered from severe shyness hears himself saying whenever he gets a surge of anxiety: “Don’t fight it!” The instinctive effort to avoid discomfort may linger somewhere in the background, but we’ve seen through it. We give ourselves kindness for its own sake.
True acceptance also has the experience of common humanity. We don’t feel singled out by our personal idiosyncrasies. There’s the sense that no matter what ails us, someone somewhere is probably struggling in the same way with the same dilemma. This was illustrated by Brenda (in Chapter 1), who said, “The pain of Zach’s de
ath has connected me to all mothers since the beginning of time who have lost children.” The pain may be childhood trauma that predisposes one to fearfulness, or attention deficit disorder that makes it difficult to follow through on promises, or the social stigma of being too fat that makes us hide in shame. Whatever it is, we’re not alone.
During the true acceptance phase, Tanya remembered that she had to look out for herself when she was a child because her mother was emotionally detached and her stepfather was scary and often cruel. In those days, Tanya stayed safe by remaining vigilant and invisible. It was taboo for her to have personal needs and dangerous to be seen because she could become a target for her stepfather’s aggression. The adult Tanya still lived in fear of bad things happening to her. This insight—how she was programmed to fear, worry, and catastrophize—along with the recognition that she needed to nurture herself in a way that she had never learned as a child, helped Tanya drop some of her struggle with insomnia. She even began to see the value in welcoming sleeplessness because it was a prime opportunity to strengthen her new habit of self-compassion and because it helped her fall asleep.
The three stages of self-compassion—infatuation, disillusionment, and true acceptance—correspond to the phases of any good long-term relationship. First we connect with ourselves as we would connect with a new love. Then we discover that we’re not protected from the pain of living and that we need to adjust to the conditions of our lives. Finally, we get to know ourselves very well and we accept what we can’t change and acknowledge that we have to work skillfully with what we have. This evolution is a refinement of intention, moving away from always wanting things in a particular way to wisdom and letting go.
The stages also correspond to the shift from cure to care. In the infatuation stage, we have the underlying wish to cure what ails us. The disillusionment phase calls an abrupt halt to that agenda. In the true acceptance phase, we care for ourselves because life is hard and a merciful response seems the only intelligent option.
THE POWER OF COMMITMENT
Our intentions are subtle. We know from the research by Benjamin Libet described in Chapter 3 that our intentions are formulated in the brain even before we’re aware of them and before we act. Neurologically speaking, the only option we have is to stop what’s already under way, assuming we recognize early enough what’s going on in our minds.
For our lives to go in the direction we want, it helps to reinforce those intentions and commitments that make the most sense to us. Usually we’re on autopilot, following the hidden agendas of our genetically predisposed and conditioned personalities. For example, introverts may spend a lot of time avoiding people, caregivers might comfort themselves by helping others, and individualists may be secretly trying to get admiration for their intrepid self-reliance. These agendas take up most of our lives but may not be what we really want to do.
Psychologist Steven Hayes and colleagues have developed a model of psychotherapy based on core values and commitments. A good life is one in which we intentionally pursue what’s most meaningful to us as we meet obstacles along the way with mindfulness and acceptance. What are your own core commitments? What do you want your life to stand for? What are your basic expectations in the areas of health, wealth, relationships, work, and spirituality? Do you primarily want your kids to be happy or do you want them to be wealthy? Do you want to live 100 years? What would you like to be said in your eulogy?
Perhaps you would like to take a moment and ponder these questions. Our commitments can be strengthened when we throw the force of conscious choice behind them.
One way to discover your intentions is to look at what you’re already doing. What’s the red thread that runs through your life? Are you choosing family over career? Do you like intellectual excitement more than physical thrills? Do you prefer social or solitary activities?
Most of us are at cross-purposes with ourselves. We value health, yet we run ourselves ragged at work. We treasure our families, but we lose patience with them every day. What do you really want? What’s your heart’s desire?
When you question yourself in this way, you may return to the innate wish to be happy and free from suffering. Not that our derivative commitments aren’t essential for a valued life, but it helps to ask Why? Why do I want a happy family? Why do I want to stay healthy? Such inquiry takes courage, and the ultimate success of your self-compassion practice depends on how committed you are to being happy and well. If you haven’t thought through your myriad responsibilities and commitments, you’re less likely to benefit to the fullest extent from self-compassion practice.
How tightly should we cling to our core commitments? Hold them like a pen, not too tight and not too loose. Too tight causes cramping, and too loose will make the pen fall out of your hands. And don’t be in a rush. The more deeply we settle into our experience, the more quickly our lives will change. Joseph Goldstein, one of the meditation teachers who started the Insight Meditation Society, suggests “relaxed persistence.”
Also, try to make your commitments as pleasant as possible. We naturally avoid difficult activities. If it isn’t pleasant, adjust it in some way. For example, don’t think, “Now I have to meditate!” When you sit down for meditation, say to yourself, “The only thing I have to do now is be with myself as lovingly and happily as possible.” Then use your skills—single-focus awareness, open-field awareness, and loving-kindness—to figure out how to do that. Let it be easy, even if it isn’t.
MAINTAINING A MEDITATION PRACTICE
Many meditators have a dirty secret: they don’t practice as much as they say. Trying to get a concrete answer to the question “How much do you meditate?” can be like asking for sexual secrets or how much money a person earns. I’m no stranger to this phenomenon either. If we ever meet and you ask this question, I hope I can respond humbly, truthfully, and with self-forgiveness. Forgiving ourselves when we fail to meet our own expectations is the first step toward sustaining a meditation practice. Some additional tips follow:
Shall I Sit?
Most people don’t have a formal, sitting meditation practice. Why? Because most people don’t feel very good when they close their eyes. Sooner or later (usually sooner!), we bump up against mental and physical discomfort. Why bother? The whole point of sitting meditation is to figure out how to be as happy as possible in our own skin. It helps to think of sitting meditation as a time to “be” without any other obligations and responsibilities, and go from there.
We don’t need to do sitting meditation, but we need to practice. Practice means “systematic training by multiple repetitions.” We’re training the brain to function in a stronger, healthier way, just as an athlete trains the body. Donald Hebb, the father of neuropsychology, said “Neurons that fire together, wire together.” Repetitive practice is essential. It needn’t be boring, however: I’m pleased to report that although meditation is old and familiar, most days it still feels interesting to me because each moment is new—never came before, never to be repeated.
When and how you practice depends on your personal preferences and life circumstances. As I mentioned earlier, the easiest way to practice is informally: being aware whenever you feel emotional discomfort and responding with kindly awareness. Formal sitting meditation is more intensive practice, a chance to focus longer on the task at hand and to learn at a deeper level. The purpose of sitting, however, is to transform your daily life, not to get into altered states of consciousness. The most effective practice plan is to have both a formal (sitting) and an informal (daily life) practice to support each other. And whatever you decide to do, if it’s not basically enjoyable, it’s not self-compassion.
Start Small
Anyone can do sitting meditation—you just have to make it short enough. The simplest way to start the habit is to follow the “3-second rule”; sit down for 3 seconds. Who can’t do that? If you previously had a practice and want to rejuvenate it, plan to sit down for a very short time. Three-second meditation o
vercomes the greatest barrier to practice: starting. Once you’re sitting, it’s easy to remain seated for longer periods.
Envision
If you want to meditate in the morning, start by envisioning the first 10 minutes of your day while you’re still in bed. Will you go to the bathroom and then meditate? Will you go to the bathroom, have some tea, shower, and then meditate? If you can see the events unfold in your mind, you’re less likely to be distracted by the rush of morning responsibilities. Similarly, if you meditate after work or before you go to bed, try to envision beforehand when and how you’ll get to your meditation seat.
Make It Social
It helps to get together periodically with people who share your interest in meditation. If you don’t have that opportunity, perhaps you can chat with sympathetic friends over the phone. You can also visit websites where meditators share their experiences, such as yahoo.com/group/giftoflovingkindness. Guided meditation tapes and related audiovisual materials can also provide a supportive context for practice.
Study
Our lives are usually driven by the cultural value of getting whatever we desire. Meditation teaches the opposite skill of wanting what we already have. Books written with wisdom and compassion are an invaluable aid to practice. They can be good companions on the path.
Find a Teacher
Having a teacher is an opportunity to learn from those who’ve gone before. A skilled teacher may be able to show how you’re making the practice unnecessarily difficult, help peel away misunderstandings, remove doubts, and provide personal encouragement. Good teachers inspire as much by example as by what they say.
The Mindful Path to Self-Compassion Page 24