The Mindful Path to Self-Compassion

by Christopher K Germer

  GIVING AND TAKING MEDITATION (TONGLEN)

  This unusual meditation uses the ordinary process of breathing, coordinating it with the mental practice of inhaling suffering and exhaling ease and well-being. “Inhaling suffering?” you say. “Shouldn’t it be the reverse, inhaling ease and exhaling suffering? Am I not just building up suffering inside?” The beauty of this meditation is that with every breath it reverses our instinctive tendency to avoid or resist negative experience. By intentionally drawing pain inside, we undermine the mental habit of resistance that creates and perpetuates suffering. That’s a compassionate thing to do.

  Giving and taking meditation is attributed to the Buddhist teacher Atisha Dipankara Shrijnana, who lived in India in the 10th century CE. Tong means “giving” in the Tibetan language and len means “taking.” (It’s actually practiced len-tong, taking and giving.) The purpose of this mind-training technique is to develop compassion toward all beings, including oneself. The foremost Western proponent of giving and taking meditation is Pema Chödrön, an American nun in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition. Her books listed in Appendix C, especially Tonglen, offer a wealth of insight into the practice. The following series of meditation instructions are adapted from Pema Chödrön’s instructions and specifically emphasize self-compassion. They can be practiced as a sitting meditation for 10–20 minutes, or informally whenever you feel the need.

  Sit quietly for a few moments.

  Take a few conscious breaths, breathing in and out through all the pores of your body. Feel your breath as you inhale and as you exhale. You might want to imagine your body as a balloon that is being inflated with every in-breath. Do this until your attention is anchored in your breathing.

  Open yourself to physical sensation in your body and locate any discomfort. If you have any, where is it located? Your stomach, chest, neck, or head?

  Now focus on your heart area and see if you’re carrying any emotional distress. If so, what’s its texture? Does it feel “thick,” “turbulent,” “hard,” “rough,” or “heavy”? How does it look in your mind’s eye? Does it appear “dark,” “gray,” or “murky”? Try to get a sense of the discomfort so you can clearly identify it. Give it a name, if you wish, such as “pain,” “discouraged,” or “worried.”

  Link your discomfort to your breath. With every in-breath, draw in your distress. Take a rich, full breath. Inhale the discomfort from wherever it’s located in your body.

  Imagine that your discomfort is being transformed in the gap between your in- and out-breaths, perhaps by light in the center of your being or simply on its own.

  Breathe out spaciousness and relief to yourself and others. Breathe from your center through your own body, suffusing it with well-being, and into the world.

  Let your out-breath be the opposite of your in-breath. If you are breathing in darkness, send out light. If you’re inhaling tightness, exhale softness. If you’re breathing in roughness, send out smoothness. Practice in a way that you can feel the difference. If you’re visualizing your body as an empty balloon, let the air out, releasing clean, pure air to all beings. You can send out ease and well-being to specific needy persons or to the world in general.

  Feel free to take more than one breath to inhale suffering or to exhale well-being, until you get the hang of it. Then let your breath gradually settle into a natural, easy rhythm, breathing in your distress and breathing out kindness and well-being.

  Close your meditation by sitting quietly, allowing your entire internal experience to be just as it is.

  Tonglen meditation depends on our ability to release sticky feelings—to draw them in and freely let them go. That’s why Pema Chödrön’s instructions suggest we breathe through all the pores of the skin or visualize our bodies like an empty balloon—there’s less to stick to. That’s also the reason we just sit quietly and let go of all effort before and after tonglen practice.

  Tonglen meditation contains many of the underlying healing mechanisms we talked about earlier in this book. It uses the calming power of focused attention on the breath, it anchors the ruminative mind in the body, it reverses the tendency to avoid or resist emotional pain, it encourages balanced awareness of pain, it nourishes good will, and it generates a greater sense of connection with others.

  My 34-year-old niece helped me recognize the healing aspect of connection in tonglen practice.

  My niece is the mother of two beautiful daughters, a 2- and a 4-year-old.

  Her 4-year-old was going through a difficult phase at a family gathering, crying and fussing a lot. She confided in me how painful it was to hear her daughter cry and was at a loss for how to help her daughter, or herself, feel better. As a busy mother, she had no time to meditate and barely enough time to breathe. I wondered whether tonglen meditation might help and taught it to her in just a few minutes.

  At breakfast the following morning, my niece told me the practice worked wonders—it helped her stay calm even though her daughter continued to be distraught. When I asked how that worked, she explained that she inhaled her distress and frustration and exhaled love to her daughter. The practice allowed her to “stay close to [my daughter] without losing myself.” By wanting the crying to stop, my niece was unconsciously distancing herself from her daughter and suffered the pain of a crying child plus the pain of disconnection. Tonglen meditation helped her get her daughter back.

  I know another woman, Celine, who uses tonglen to alleviate her distress when she sees signs of aging—new wrinkles, sagging jowls—in the mirror in the morning. Celine inhales the anxiety of the woman in the mirror, and as she exhales, Celine says, “Darling, you’re just getting older. So is everyone else. Everyone is growing old together.”

  Tonglen can be practiced when we’re distressed in any way. Workhorse personalities seem to like tonglen because, with a little practice, it slips effortlessly into a busy day. Extraverts may enjoy the connection aspect and that it’s slightly less psychological than metta meditation—more rooted in the bodily process of breathing. Generally speaking, people who enjoy their bodies may take easily to tonglen. Tonglen practitioners with experience in metta practice can try reciting the metta phrases along with each tonglen out-breath, sending loving-kindness to all. Find what works for you.

  Modifications to Giving and Taking Meditation

  Opening to emotional pain can be overwhelming at times no matter what method we use. If that happens during tonglen practice, there are a few modifications that I’ve found useful. For example, if you’re very overwhelmed, try this:

  Sit quietly for a few moments.

  Take a few breaths through all the pores of your body and also breathe out through all the pores of your body.

  Think of a few people who love you and place them in a circle around you. Locate them as close to or as far away from you as you like. Visualize them patiently sitting, just for you, with love and care in their hearts. You can also visualize your favorite pets or see yourself in a natural setting, surrounded by beauty.

  Place your hand on your heart.

  Continue consciously breathing. As you inhale, breathe in their love. As you exhale, return the love. Get a sense of inhaling warmth and kindness and exhaling gratitude and love.

  Breathe in and out as long as you wish, feeling the energy of loving-kindness radiating toward you and from you as you breathe.

  Gently open your eyes.

  This adaptation steers you away from suffering and is suitable when you’re deeply upset. When you’re less upset—perhaps merely “disturbed”— you can open yourself to a little more suffering, but be sure you still give loving-kindness to yourself as well. The following spectrum of tonglen modifications correspond to how distressed you may be when you practice:

  • Overwhelmed? Take loving-kindness from those who love you. Give loving-kindness to those who love you.

  • Disturbed? Take in your own suffering. Give loving-kindness to yourself.

  • Distressed? Take in your own suffering. Giv
e loving-kindness to yourself and others.

  • Dissatisfied? Take in your suffering and the suffering of others. Give loving-kindness to others.

  • Content? Take in others’ suffering. Give others loving-kindness.

  You may notice that the very first set of tonglen instructions given above—taking your own suffering and giving loving-kindness to yourself and others—is practiced in the middle range of discomfort (“distressed”). If you’re feeling better than that—only “dissatisfied”—try connecting your pain to the pain of millions of others on the planet who might be feeling exactly the same way in the present moment. For example, if you have a stomachache, think of all the people who have stomachaches. Draw that common pain into your body with the in-breath, transmute it, and breathe out ease and well-being to all. You might get relief from the feeling of not being so alone in your struggle.

  If you’re feeling “content,” try taking on the suffering of others and giving out love to others. That is traditional tonglen practice, designed for liberation from the prison of our own individuality. When the Dalai Lama was asked how he meditates, especially to cultivate forgiveness, he responded:

  I use meditation technique called giving and taking … I make visualization: send my positive emotions like happiness, affection to others. Then another visualization. I visualize receiving their sufferings, their negative emotions. I do this every day. I pay special attention to the Chinese—especially those doing terrible things to the Tibetans. So, as I meditate, I breathe in all their poisons—hatred, fear, cruelty. Then I breathe out. And I let all the good things come out, things like compassion, forgiveness. I take inside my body all these bad things. Then I replace poisons with fresh air. Giving and taking. I take care not to blame—I don’t blame the Chinese and I don’t blame myself. This meditation is very effective, useful to reduce hatred, useful to cultivate forgiveness.

  Most of us don’t have the compassion of the Dalai Lama, or his peace of mind, so we are advised to practice with the other modifications as well.

  CENTERING MEDITATION

  Centering meditation is a technique for discovering a compassionate word or phrase that applies particularly to you and your current situation. Beginning practitioners of loving-kindness meditation can use centering meditation to discover their own personalized metta phrases.

  Centering meditation comes from a 14th-century anonymously written book called The Cloud of Unknowing, which was discovered in the attic of a Trappist monastery in Spencer, Massachusetts. Centering became popular in 1982 through Father Basil Pennington’s Centering Prayer: Renewing an Ancient Christian Prayer Form. The meditation is designed to open our hearts and minds to inner guidance that is beyond our usual habits of thought. The following meditation is a secularized version of that technique. Like many other meditations, the prescribed length of time is about 20 minutes, once or twice a day.

  Sit comfortably, close your eyes, and take a few deep, relaxing breaths.

  Notice your posture—sitting, not lying down, not standing—and feel any sensations in your body. If you have any physical discomfort, gently touch it with your awareness. If you have emotional distress, notice it and let it be there.

  Now bring attention to your breathing, wherever you feel it most strongly. Nostrils? Chest? Belly? When your mind wanders, gently return to the sensation of breathing. As you breathe, let your awareness move deeply into the experience of breathing. Do this for 5–10 minutes.

  The breath comes seemingly out of nowhere—it’s actually breathing you, keeping you healthy even when you’re fast asleep. Go deeply into the breath, to the source of the breath. Let your awareness drop into the deep, empty space from which breathing emerges, from which the faintest movement originates. This place, beyond thoughts and words, is a field of great peace and freedom.

  Just continue to breathe and open your awareness to the source of your breath. As you do so, listen for any words that may bubble up. Open yourself up to a word or a phrase that might be just what you need to hear right now. If a word or phrase were to appear from the bottom of your heart, what would it be?

  Take a few minutes to do this. Breathe, relax, and open yourself to words that might bubble up from deep inside. If no words arise, just stay with your breath. If a fewwords arise, roll them over in your mind and select one that’s perfect for you at this time in your life. Some possibilities might be “love,” “let it be,” “I love you,” “yes,” “trust,” “peace” or “mercy.”

  When you have a word or phrase, allow yourself to savor it, rolling it over and over in your mind. If you notice that your mind has wandered, bring it ever so gently back to the word or words.

  After a while, let go of what you’re doing and simply be with your inner experience, letting yourself be just as you are.

  Slowly open your eyes.

  It can be a stirring experience to hear encouraging words coming from the depths of one’s being, such as “I love you,” “Let go and let God,” or “Have courage.” An intellectual client of mine, an electrical engineer with attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), heard “Don’t be afraid.” The words stirred him to tears, unsure why they came up since they seemed unrelated to his usual way of thinking. Then he heard “Focus!,” a familiar admonition from his childhood. He wisely selected “Don’t be afraid” as his centering phrase. Another client with ADHD heard the word “dynamo” while he did the centering meditation, and he felt it energized him when his mind wandered off task.

  Centering meditation is essentially mantra meditation with a twist: the mantra is self-generated. A mantra is commonly used in meditation to disentangle us from meaningless thinking and calm the mind through one-pointed attention. Depending on the religious tradition, sometimes the meaning of the mantra is important, sometimes it’s the sound, sometimes it’s writing the mantra that matters, and often a mantra is just a meaningless, yet helpful, object of attention.

  The sound of the body exhaling, “Ahhhhhhh, ahhhhhhh, ahhhhhhh,” is a mantra, and can be comforting when you feel under stress. Repeating a name of God, particularly if you feel loved by God, can be a compelling way to use a mantra to cultivate self-compassion. A name of God (Jesus, Ram) may come to mind during centering meditation or can be brought in from your religious tradition.

  Centering meditation can also have a surprisingly beneficial effect on people who are likely to feel alone or unloved, such as outsiders, survivors, or perfectionists. They feel connected to a deeper, more loving part of themselves. The butterfly and floater personalities may also benefit from centering meditation by learning to trust inner guidance.

  LIGHT MEDITATION

  “The light of love.” “The clear light of awareness.” “Shed some light on the matter.” Light is a universal symbol for virtuous qualities such as love, truth, and wisdom. When we visualize light within ourselves, we affirm our good qualities.

  The following meditation may be familiar to people from different meditative traditions and has been modified here for self-compassion. Readers who are good at visualization, those who prefer nonverbal meditation, or intellectuals who like to work with abstract images are likely to enjoy light meditation.

  A number of different mental tasks are involved in light meditation, so give yourself sufficient time, perhaps 15–20 minutes, to practice in a relaxed, unhurried manner. The point is to savor inner warmth, not to finish quickly.

  Light a candle and place it before you. Sit comfortably with a reasonably straight back and take a few deep, relaxing breaths. Gaze at the candle for a minute as it quietly emanates light in all directions. Gently close your eyes.

  Visualize the candlelight in the heart region of your body, as an unwavering flame or an orb of light. Let it shine in all directions just like a candle.

  Continue to rest your attention in your heart area. Feel the soft glow of candlelight in your heart. If you wish, you can open and close your eyes a few times, seeing the flame before you and then visualizing the
flame in your heart.

  When your mind wanders, bring it ever so gently back to the light in your heart.

  Now begin to slowly move the light to different parts of your body. If you are feeling discomfort in any part of your body, let the light linger there awhile longer before moving onward.

  First bring it to your head. Let the light illuminate your brain.

  Then, going back down through your heart region, bring it through your arms to your hands, one arm after another. Take all the time you need.

  Again starting at your heart, now bring the light down your trunk and legs to your feet—one leg and then the next.

  Then bring the light back to your heart. If you have any emotional pain, allow the discomfort to be there while you suffuse your heart with light.

  Now let the light expand outside yourself, to include others in your room or house, your country, and the entire world. In your mind’s eye, visualize yourself and your entire surroundings suffused with warm, radiant light.

  Slowly open your eyes when you’re ready.

  You can move the light anywhere you wish. If you want to keep it to yourself, feel free to do so. Personalities like caregivers and extraverts may want to share the light with everyone, and introverts may feel more comfortable nestled within themselves. After a few weeks of practice, you probably won’t need to use a candle anymore, nor will you need to scan the body with light—you’ll be able to suffuse your body with light at a moment’s notice.