by Bill Morgan
However, this is a particularly difficult investigation for Westerners. To be fair, it’s challenging for all beings. We are not wired to move closer to what is uncomfortable. The idea of delayed gratification—that we must move closer to suffering in order to alleviate it—is just that, an idea. Our deep mind-set of survival of the fittest begs to differ.
This is the great challenge of psychotherapy. Clients come to get rid of discomfort, not get closer to it. Who am I to say you should get closer to your pain that you have been avoiding your whole life? Granted, your avoidance hasn’t worked, or you wouldn’t be in my office. But maybe I know a more effective way to help you bypass this difficulty. My job is to create a holding environment of sufficient safety and trust, because only in that context might you feel encouraged to explore the darker side of the moon.
The Buddha understood that in order to gain relief from suffering, we have to first become more familiar with it, see it in operation up close and personal. In the old days, it was more difficult to avoid the existential realities—sickness, old age, and death. Maybe in the Buddha’s day it was customary to look directly at dissatisfaction. Lifespan was half of what it is currently. Infant deaths were frequent and even commonplace. Monks were encouraged to meditate in cemeteries, where corpses could be seen in various stages of decay. We, however, have become skillful at keeping suffering out of sight. And when it comes to meditation practice, we prefer not to look too closely at dis-ease.
Because of our strong aversion to working with mental suffering, we will first examine impermanence. All things pass. The concept of impermanence, though challenging in its own right, is a concept that is familiar to us. We were all children once, but no longer. And who among us has not experienced loss? We will start here, slowly, with the unstable, changing nature of experience and our uneasy relationship to it.
QUESTIONS FOR CONSIDERATION
I get confused about this new way of investigating. Does thinking stop completely when investigation is happening?
Only the far-flung and analytical thinking diminishes as one begins to notice more closely what is going on in the moment and observe connections between this moment and the previous or next experience. For example, in the treatment of anxiety, we know that anxious thoughts and feelings cannot coexist with relaxed, diaphragmatic breathing. This in itself can be a useful mindful investigation. Come and see this for yourself (ehipassiko). When you are restless or agitated, check to see how the breath is. Spoiler alert: it is probably not relaxed. Tense, shallow breath and irritable thoughts and feelings arise together and co-condition one another. This is investigation in the mindful sense.
You are noticing cause-and-effect links, in this case between the body and the mind. And it works both ways. Tense breath tends to invite tense thoughts and feelings, but irritable thoughts will constrict the breath. You can also diffuse this unwholesome dynamic in either direction. You can intentionally invite again the holding environment by either shifting to more pleasant thoughts or images, or by intentionally softening the breath. Simply being mindful of the tension in both the mind and the breath, however, without this kind of investigation and intentional reset, is likely to be tiresome and frustrating. This is why mindfulness without investigation will not necessarily reduce suffering.
I always thought mindfulness was just being present to one thing after another, with acceptance if possible. It seems like investigation is adding another more active element here. Do I have that right?
Yes. Now that we have learned to settle down, calm down, and get engaged in our internal landscape, the next step is to see how things are interconnected in there and, in particular, what contributes to mental distress and what leads toward contentment. The direction of these practices has always been toward reducing self-created mental distress, and this is a proactive process. We have to look closely at how this is happening so that we can develop new and helpful ways of holding, shaping, and responding to our experience. That is why calming down or being generally mindful, while necessary and important in their own right, will not help us understand the causes of suffering and the causes of abiding contentment. Investigation is not emphasized in many mindfulness instructions because it is assumed that this will arise on its own. But it doesn’t for many of us, though it is critical for the deepening of insight.
15
RISING AND FALLING GAMES
So you should view this fleeting world as a star at dawn, a bubble in a stream, a flash of lightning in a summer cloud, a flickering lamp, a phantom and a dream.
—Gautama Buddha
No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.
—Heraclitus
AT FIRST BLUSH, IT MIGHT SEEM THAT BOTH the Buddha and Heraclitus had an incredible grasp of the obvious. We all know that things change. It’s common knowledge. People die. Yet seeing deeply into impermanence is considered a pivotal insight in mindfulness practice. At times, the Buddha got pretty emphatic in his emphasis on this. He once suggested that it was more transformative to have one moment of penetrating insight into impermanence than one hundred years of noble conduct. Why is insight into impermanence so pivotal here?
Although we have a general understanding of the changing nature of experience, we behave as if things are relatively stable. The world is spinning on its axis, but do we notice? Our eyes are in constant motion, yet the landscape before us appears in steady focus. Our neurological wiring has developed to support this relative view of stability in our perception and a sense of continuity over time through memory. These developments allow us to communicate and negotiate the world we live in. They represent incredible developmental achievements.
So what’s the problem with a perception of stability? Why would I want to tamper with a pinnacle of human development? The American poet Muriel Rukeyser writes, “The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.”1 This is a large part of how we make meaning in our relationships and in our world. The problem lies in the fact that we forget that our meaning making, our stories, are constructed by our minds moment to moment.
As we reflect on our perceptions more deeply, we can see that nothing in our experience lasts for more than a fleeting moment. We need look no further than each exhale of our breath for evidence of this truth: once it’s finished, that same exhale can never be retrieved or experienced again. It is the mind that rapidly organizes and synthesizes our ongoing fire hose of experience, much of which takes place under the radar of our awareness.
Because we are not in touch with the fundamental underpinnings of impermanence, we become strongly attached to our lovely but fleeting constructions. This attachment to a sense of permanence creates mental suffering (dukkha) when we face the reality of change.
With mindfulness practice, we become increasingly aware of the moment-to-moment constructing process. This goes against the grain of our neurological wiring, our cultural conditioning, and our personal attachments. We are swimming upstream here.
That is precisely why the willingness to look steadily at impermanence, our closer investigation into this disarming truth, rests on the foundation of practices that are both calming and stabilizing. These prerequisite steps, the establishing of tranquility and the holding environment, are included in the first meditation below.
GUIDED MEDITATION: IMPERMANENCE
1. As always, as if for the first time, take a few moments to settle the body and soften the breath.
2. Establish the holding environment, arousing qualities of delight, gratitude, warmth, and wonder.
3. With each exhalation, imagine the energy moving down, releasing with gravity. Maintain relaxation of the breath, but with no particular object of focus.
4. Begin to notice some of the minute sensations of breath at the tip of the nose, in the downward flow of the exhalation, as if that flow were actually comprised of a few smaller wavelets and particles of sensation.
5. Now, with each exhalation, notice a few
sensations as the breath passes the nostrils. What before was a flow of breath is now seen as many smaller sensations.
6. Imagine that these sensations are soothing.
7. Keeping the breath soft, begin to notice sounds on the inhalation.
8. Emphasize brief, precise noticings. If you stay with one sound, notice that it is comprised of many smaller, fluctuating nuances of sound.
9. Imagine that the sounds are compelling, sweet.
10. Begin to bring your attention to the impermanent nature of experience.
11. First, reflect on the fact that yesterday is no longer here. Whatever you did earlier today is gone. The memories that you have of those experiences are being known in the present moment.
12. Now observe that the previous breath is gone, completely gone, over the waterfall.
13. Zoom in. On the out-breath, notice several precise sensations of breath. See that none of them lasts for more than a split second. Look closely into this.
14. On the in-breath notice the rapidly shifting sensations of sound, none of them enduring.
15. At the end of each complete cycle of breath, notice that all of the sensations of breath and sound that you observed in that one breath are gone, completely gone, over the waterfall.
16. Check to see that you are settled and feeling calm, at about 4 energetically; continue to notice the impermanence of breath and sound from this receptive vantage point.
17. In the last few minutes of the meditation, let go of the precise noticing of impermanence, and relax into a general flow of soothing breath.
18. Take a few more sweet breaths before slowly opening your eyes.
The closer you look, the more fluid and changeable experience appears to be. At first, this is simply a curiosity, and when you stop meditating, the confidence in a relatively stable world naturally reasserts itself. With repetition, however, you gain clarity that this is not just a mental twist but reality, that experience is inherently in flux, changing second to second. Things are constantly arising and disappearing in rapid succession.
At a certain point of practice, this cognitive understanding becomes more deeply internalized. This is really the way it is. As that insight matures, it also becomes clear that you have organized your life without this awareness. You have been trying to replace impermanent bits of experience with other impermanent bits in an effort to be happy. This is indeed a poignant insight. With the deepening that comes with repetition, this insight is also freeing, as our tight and serious grip on experience begins to relax.
Good news alert: there is frequent misunderstanding about “letting go” or “detachment” in meditation, as if these practices could lead to a remote and disengaged relationship to life. For example: I won’t be disappointed or hurt anymore because I will care less. Easy come, easy go. Why get attached when all things pass? This is not what unfolds. Rather there is a gradual adaptation to this new information about the pervasiveness of impermanence. As this happens there is a new adaptation, which takes the form of holding onto experience less tightly. This paradoxically creates space for more appreciation and gracious acceptance.
Next we need to look more closely into dissatisfaction (dukkha), caused by the axle not fitting snugly in the wheel.
QUESTIONS FOR CONSIDERATION
When I look closely at impermanence, I start to get anxious, which leads to restlessness and sometimes fear. How do I stop this roller coaster?
An insight that is obvious on one level but continues to deepen with practice is that all experience arises and passes away. Depending on how you are holding this insight up to the light, it can appear either frightening, poignant, or reassuring. The fact that things keep passing away in our experience, despite our efforts to hold on, can lead to feelings associated with loss of control, a sense that one is not in charge as much as one thought.
It can also enhance a sense of appreciation for all things lovely and fleeting. It can be reassuring in two respects: first, because even difficult mind states and challenging experiences pass, and second, as one experience weakens or dissolves, another arises.
As soon as mindfulness weakens, things seem to be permanent again, as if that were the default position of the mind. How can I stay more awake to the pervasiveness of impermanence?
Permanence is the default position of the mind. Our neurology is configured to create the sense of a solid self in a permanent world. This contributes to a sense of safety and security—to a point. However, because things are not permanent, a truth that rudely asserts itself repeatedly and unexpectedly in our lives, the mindfulness approach is oriented toward integrating the radical infrastructure of our experience. Why? So that we will not be so blindsided by its uprisings; so we can gradually establish a more harmonious and appreciative relationship with the fact that all things change and relax more in the midst of it.
I must admit I get a bit depressed when I even think about impermanence, much less when I meditate on it.
Sure, this is an acquired taste. It is important to honor our sweet wish for impermanence to not be so. It goes against the grain of our orientation to examine this closely. However, this is the way it is, and as we slowly move in this direction, it may become clear that some of our mental distress is associated with holding on in unrealistic ways and in making demands on life that are untenable. The difficult and the sublime moments in life all eventually end. And it is not just that things are dissolving; it can also be deeply reassuring to see that fresh experience keeps announcing itself, moment after moment, without cease.
16
“I CAN’T GET NO SATISFACTION” GAMES
THE OVERARCHING INTENTION of mindfulness training is to reduce mental distress. Most people have this in mind when they start practicing; they are looking for a quick fix, a way to feel better, often conceived as a respite from nonstop thinking and agitation. They have the sweet dream that meditation might transport them to a delightful space free from worry and concern. Perhaps mindfulness can be the means of excising unwanted thoughts and feelings from the psyche.
The dream is lovely and understandable, but it is one of the last holdouts of magical thinking. It can’t possibly come true. We need to let go of this wish once and for all. We have learned in other arenas that the way to work something out involves first going into it more directly, not circumventing it. For better and for worse, the same principle applies in mindfulness training.
As such, we benefit from handholds and training wheels in preparation for the challenging work ahead. Approaching mental suffering gradually and with the support of the inner holding environment makes insight into self-created distress more accessible for practitioners. A common instruction in mindfulness is to simply “be with” mental suffering when it arises, which is much of the time, to notice it, label it, and not identify with or feed it. Most people, including myself, find this nearly impossible, especially early on in mindfulness training. We need a helping hand.
Obstacles in Meditation
Consider five classic hindrances that derail mindfulness practice. In my experience, the majority of meditators encounter every one of them.
Desire: The universal tendency to hold onto certain experiences tightly, wanting them to last. It implies strong attachment.
Aversion: Ill-will, anger, active avoidance, and a pushing away of experience are all part of this hindrance.
Sloth and torpor: Heavy, dull, sleepy, unmotivated, draggy, complacent, dreamy, drifty states of mind.
Restlessness or agitation: While self-explanatory, it can be shocking to discover how prevalent and pervasive and persistent agitation is and how difficult it is to settle down. Energetically everything over 6 on the 1-to-10 scale is in the restless zone. All that we identify as anxiety or stress falls in this category. This is pandemic in our manic culture.
Doubt: This includes uncertainty both about the usefulness and efficacy of mindfulness practice itself and about one’s capacity to practice in a way that will bear fruit.
A step-by-step approach is useful in most areas of new learning, and welcoming and mindfully negotiating difficult mind states is no exception. It’s a matter of pacing for success. This may seem obvious, but it is not the common approach for working with difficult emotions. Suppose I begin meditating and am aware of agitation and restlessness. This would be quite common if I had not taken the time to first settle down and develop calm with the holding environment.
But let’s say I just jumped into the meditation. I don’t want agitation to be there. It doesn’t feel good. So I give it partial, begrudging acknowledgment, hoping that will make it disappear. It doesn’t. Now irritation shows up, followed by frustration. This becomes a self-perpetuating, vicious cycle.
How do we develop a more accepting relationship with the difficult thoughts and emotions we are inclined to avoid? We can learn to hold disturbing emotions in three steps. To understand this, imagine your consciousness is making contact with all your senses—seeing, hearing, feeling, smelling, and so on—in rapid succession. It is a nonstop flow of experience that is being monitored, filtered, and organized by consciousness. Sounds and sights and thoughts keep arising, tumbling over each other continuously. Yet even when we are settled, consciousness keeps doing its job. It never rests.