by Bill Morgan
Remember: we are practicing, learning to play a new instrument. It’s not like flipping a switch. It is inner play. We are creating, step by step, an inner holding environment for meditation. The attention will never be completely steady in these practices. Awareness is jumping around constantly. Distraction is universal. We need to have a relaxed and playful attitude throughout; that’s why these are the first two qualities we cultivate.
We have all experienced the state of flow or peak experience, a state where we are fully engaged and enlivened in the midst of what we are doing. It’s a state we cherish and would like to experience more often. It doesn’t occur to us that we can create this state internally, but that is precisely what we are practicing here. Consider the qualities we have been cultivating: relaxation, playfulness, delight, appreciation, wonder, warmth, and tenderness. Aren’t these the qualities that are present in the state of flow, when you are intimately engaged with a loved one or enthralled by a luminous sunset? These same qualities are foundational in establishing a holding environment for meditation practice. Quite simply, if these qualities are not present, the mind will seek greener pastures elsewhere and will lose interest in meditation. For meditation to take hold, it must both make sense and feel good, and the “feel good” needs to show up early in the process. We do not need one more medicinal discipline or another activity in our lives based on the principle of delayed gratification.
It is possible to be mindful of an object without any feeling whatsoever. I can hold my hand two feet in front of my eyes and gaze at the palm and fingers clinically. I call this “casual” or “halfhearted” mindfulness. This is a frequent occurrence in meditation practice. It is also a central reason why the mind wanders—and why people stop meditating. Without feeling, without interest, there is nothing compelling to keep the mind in the vicinity.
Try this experiment. Hold your hand out at arm’s length and look at it casually. Notice your relationship to this experience. Now cup your hands about twelve inches in front of your eyes. Carefully observe the detail of your hands as if they were wonders of nature, precious, as if you were seeing them this way for the first time. This is what I call “wholehearted” or “therapeutic” mindfulness, and it encapsulates what we are cultivating in the atmosphere for meditation. And what is wholeheartedness if not the confluence of ease, delight, wonder, and tenderness? Ultimately, we don’t want to walk through our lives simply attentive and nonjudgmental. There is no juice in that. No one wants their epitaph to read, He was more mindful more of the time. We want vibrancy and sensitivity and gratitude. We are also more likely to meditate if it brings forth these qualities. If this is manifesting in our practice, we are likely also to be more attentive and nonjudgmental, both in meditation and in life.
Creating the Wholehearted Holding Environment
There are four areas of focus in creating a wholehearted holding environment:
• Relaxation and ease
• Playfulness and delight
• Gratitude and wonder
• Warmth and tenderness
I encourage you to spend time strengthening these qualities within your internal landscape. Pay attention to your felt experience when these feelings are present and when they are not. Notice the difference between casual attention or halfheartedness in meditation and wholeheartedness. How does each feel?
When you can summon these qualities in your meditation, this will already feel like an enlivening, restorative activity. In teaching meditation to clients, I now spend a significant period of time supporting the development of this foundation.
In my own meditation practice, I invite these qualities in this order. I also check occasionally to see if they are present as I am meditating, and if one or more is weak, I attend to it and encourage it to come forward, generally through visualization.
Feel free to explore these heart qualities in different orders. Discover what is effective for you. Being a “serious” meditator, I always need to start with relaxing and then lightening things up. I recently received a message from a therapist I worked with a few years ago. She said, “It took me a while to understand the importance of playfulness in establishing the holding environment. I kept trying to go directly to compassion, in my own practice and in my work with clients. Now I see that feelings of warmth can be accessed so much more readily if we give ourselves permission to play first.”
Mindfulness involves cultivating attention, but I have found it beneficial to focus upon emotional mindfulness first and foremost. Without this as a foundation, the mind will ruminate, fantasize, obsess, and analyze rather than soften and want to remain in the vicinity of the present moment. It is not until we can settle down comfortably and with interest in the present that meditation can yield additional fruit.
QUESTIONS FOR CONSIDERATION
Before I actively visualize, I need to spend a few minutes thinking about compassion and how I really want to cultivate it, even though I am a relative beginner. Is that in line with what you are suggesting?
Wise reflection was something that the Buddha encouraged, and I believe it has a place in “setting the table” for mindfulness practice. The key is to know what the intention is for your reflection, whether it is helpful, and when to stop reflecting and move more directly to imagery. Otherwise the attention can get hijacked into story land.
Light and dark are connected when I practice using imagery. I start out with something positive, but then it morphs into a negative association. How do I stop that from happening?
This is quite common. The mind tends to drift toward that which is unresolved, toward the glass half empty. It is important to see the prevalence of this self-defeating pattern. We are cultivating a new, wholesome habit here, which takes caring attention. A few words can be helpful when you notice the mind drifting toward the dark forest. At those times I might silently repeat, “You don’t want to go down that rabbit hole.” One of my favorites is, “You are still a good person.” This quickly helps me to smile and relax, and from there it is easier to move back to positive elements of imagery.
Can you say more about “core distilled memory” images?
It sometimes takes a while for these to emerge. I work with a student who has struggled to arouse warmth in his meditation. Recently he reported that he felt a softening in the area of his chest, coupled with sadness. He stayed with that, and the image of him rocking his two-year-old child came to mind. This was followed by the image of himself as a two-year-old being rocked by his father. He did not search for these images; they came to him. He was immediately filled with tenderness. This has become a core distilled memory, and he draws upon this regularly when setting up the holding environment for his meditation.
What if I don’t remember much from my childhood?
This could be another reason to judge yourself, and we don’t need more of that. Sometimes memories will arise over time if we incline in that direction, sometimes not. Remember that we are not chasing images or memories; we are aiming to elicit the core feelings of the internal holding environment. The memory of my cat’s antics this morning can arouse playfulness in my meditation tonight, and her consummate skill at relaxing I sometimes call to mind when I am settling down in meditation.
Is it possible to “exhaust” a core distilled memory image?
There is a natural tendency for the mind to habituate almost anything. A core mindfulness skill is that of anti-habituation, seeing things freshly, again and again. Working with these core images can occasionally get dull, but more frequently they become even richer and more textured, and the feeling associated with them becomes accessed more readily.
PART THREE
TRANQUILITY PRACTICE
Only a tranquil mind is able to hold itself aloft in the light of contemplation.
—Pope Gregory I
9
CONCENTRATION BLUES
A FEW YEARS AGO, I had the privilege of participating in a four-month retreat with the Burmese teacher Pa-Auk, o
ne of the foremost masters of what is called “concentration meditation,” or “concentration practice.” I figured that I would make progress rather quickly. After all, I had been practicing meditation for many years. However, my first few weekly interviews with him were brief and humbling. I would give a brief report of my meditations. He would then smile, cock his head, and say, “Concentration still weak.” End of interview. Finally, after more than two months of following the flow of sensations of the breath at the tip of my nose, the only technique offered, I went before the master. I told him there was only the slightest wavering of attention during a three-hour period of meditation. I felt confident that he would be pleased with my report. Pa-Auk paused and smiled. He pointed to his nose, still smiling, and said, “No wavering.” He looked directly at me, no longer smiling, and repeated, in a sober, sincere voice, “No wavering.”
Concentration practice invariably opens a can of worms for Western practitioners. The word evokes cognitive strain and will-power, tightening and narrowing the field of attention and holding it there. I am reminded of the famous Rodin sculpture, The Thinker: chin on fist, brow furrowed, the essence of intense focus. For Westerners this sculpture embodies the archetype of concentration. However, such an effortful, strained approach is counterproductive for all manner of contemplative and meditation practices.
In addition, it is easy to fall into a frustrating pass/fail relationship with concentration practice. The instruction is clear and leaves no opportunity for reframing: stay with the object of attention. No other experience that arises during the practice, however marvelous it may seem, is acceptable. Pa-Auk was only interested in whether my attention stayed with the flow of sensations of the breath. Nothing else mattered. No cookies. No other measure of progress. No wavering.
Why Bother with Concentration?
Stability and calm, the underpinnings of insight, are the essential qualities cultivated in concentration practice. Stability arises when the attention can settle and focus. Until then, it is unable to gaze steadily at the workings of the mind. Without stability, one’s focus is like that of a handheld video camera: the image is constantly shifting, and it is difficult to establish clear focus. We do not need this level of stability when dealing with the contents of the mind, with our stories. To look more carefully into the underlying, moment-to-moment processes at work in the mind, however, requires another level of refinement in attention.
The establishing of deep calm is equally essential. As concentration matures, the mind begins to move away from its predominant obsession with thought and begins to focus on the flow of sensory experience, most commonly the sensations of the breath as it makes contact with the nostrils. With further progress, the mind begins to rest in the flow of physical sensations. This is experienced as a great relief. A deep feeling of contentment begins to spontaneously arise when the mind is not bombarded with negative and ruminative thinking and feeling. There is a tremendous sense of freedom in this. It feels like a new discovery, an inner resource that one never knew was possible, a shelter from the storm so near at hand. One has learned to create a beautiful haven that is restful and compelling. It is a peace of mind into which difficult mind states do not intrude.
In principle, this sounds good, doesn’t it? Don’t we need more of this in our highly distractible, stimulus-rich culture?
Redefining Concentration
Given the clear benefits of concentration practice, perhaps we must find a more appealing yet accurate label for it. The Pali word samadhi has been translated as “concentration.” However, samadhi connotes pacifying and composing the mind and carries several other meanings that are more accessible for Westerners, including “quiescence” and “tranquility.” These words elicit different associations than “concentration.” They are accurate yet more useful for us, given our cultural predisposition to cognitive striving and goal orientation.
While it’s true that the core elements in these practices are stability and calm, putting calm first and foremost, both in understanding and practice, is much more effective for practitioners in the West. This is not just because we need much more of it, but because when the mind is first calmed, it is more likely to settle and stay. Just ask my cat. If, when she’s racing around the house, I try to get her to stop first, hoping she will then calm down, she’ll fight me. Once she is calm, however, then she settles down, like a heavy snow falling in a forest on a still night.
Yet that’s what I tried to do for the longest time in my attempts at concentration practice. I tried to get the mind to stay, in the hope that calm would follow. Instead, what followed was frustration and self-condemnation for “wavering.”
We’ve already learned that relaxation is the first component of the holding environment. Here, we are deepening the felt sense of calm, the physical manifestation of peace. Calm and ease are fundamental to progress in meditation, and we are culturally deficient in this territory. We bypass calm in mindfulness training at our own peril.
Tranquility in the Big Picture
To sidestep the negative word associations, I will sometimes use tranquility as a synonym for concentration. I can’t say enough about training in tranquility as a distinct skill in meditation. It has numerous physical, mental, and stress-management benefits and adds a new dimension to self-care.
In the context of mindfulness training, tranquility steadies the mind, helps to make it flexible and pliable, and readies it to hold any aspect of experience up to the light, so that it may be considered with care and from a number of angles and perspectives. The Buddha was quite clear about the strong correlation between concentration practice and insight; it is a necessary prelude to wisdom. The insight and understanding that we experience in meditation is only as deep as the calm stability that undergirds it.
Our capacity to stay both present and tranquil is clearly the weakest link in the mindfulness chain for Western practitioners. William James, a psychologist and novelist who took an early interest in Buddhist contemplative practices, discovered that in his experience, it was not possible to stay focused on an object for longer than eight seconds. He was right: without tranquility training, that’s about all we can manage. If we open the field of awareness without developing this skill, we will be able to stay with the process for about eight seconds before spacing out. Tops.
Given this somewhat unnerving reality, how does one develop and practice tranquility in a manner that is accessible? How does one come to inhabit this quality of presence? How can we come to embody a state of concentration with balance and ease?
QUESTIONS FOR CONSIDERATION
I get anxious just thinking about concentration because I am so terrible at it. It feels like I can’t stay focused for more than a few moments on anything!
Many times we feel alone in our practice. I would often “peek” at my fellow meditators during a retreat and think, “Everyone is getting this except for me!” When it comes to concentration, we are all in the same boat. However, we avoid or bypass this element of meditation at our own risk, as this will diminish the effectiveness and depth of our practice. The question is how to address this challenge in a meaningful fashion. Pushing harder is not the solution.
10
TRANQUILITY GAMES
MAMMALS PLAY FOR THE DELIGHT OF IT. Human beings are no exception. This is a good thing, or we would never get off the ground with tranquility practice. The question is not whether to play or not to play. The question is what games are most helpful to arouse desired qualities of mind. Having spent years painfully grinding away at concentration and seeing others do the same, I am convinced that in order to make progress in meditation, Westerners need to tap into creative play. Otherwise, mindfulness meditation practice is doomed. When I was a kid, my friends and I would say, “You are doomed!” to each other and laugh. It still brings a smile to my face today. It’s also an appropriate word to employ in this context. Webster’s defines doomed as “likely to have an unfortunate and inescapable outcome; ill-fated.”1 Wi
thout engaging creative play in our meditation practice, it can be a similarly doomed and ill-fated endeavor.
So, play is important to avoid a doomed meditation practice. Before you begin to play, however, it is important to establish the intention for your meditation session.
Intention/Aspiration
Why do you practice tranquility? It’s important to be clear and unequivocal about the reason. Whether it is to calm down a little, take a break from the bombardment of external stimuli, prepare the ground for open awareness and inquiry, contribute to the welfare of the planet by detoxifying your congested psyche, or take the next step toward whatever you imagine to be profound awakening, be clear and repeat it to yourself, either silently or out loud, with feeling.
I often do this a few times until I feel aligned with my intention. The first time or two, it may be just a ritual of halfhearted repetition. It’s important to get heart and mind connected immediately by doing this wholeheartedly.
Keep your intention fresh. Don’t use the same phrase or phrases each time. Make it personal and relevant, using your words. Why are you doing this practice? Maybe yesterday I wanted to save the world, and today I just need a break. So be it. Take stock. Be honest with yourself. Notice when you feel connected to your intention. You are establishing the mental-emotional posture for your meditation journey.
Wholehearted Engagement
Once clear about your intention, next you need to check the emotional landscape. Whatever your intention might be, even if it is to relax and unwind, affective engagement is the next important step. Without that, the mind will neither settle down nor get interested in the process of meditation and will slip into cognitive drift.
I am here to marvel.
—Goethe
Simply being more aware, more present, is necessary but not sufficient in meditation and in life. I am reminded of Mary Oliver’s poignant aspiration to be “a bride married to amazement.” 2 Bringing this vibrant sensibility into your meditation, in a series of small steps, is the next agenda. The heart must be invited in right at the beginning; this is an essential cornerstone of practice.