The Meditator's Dilemma

by Bill Morgan

  The ongoing stream of experience is continuous, and we are inextricably connected to it. None of what we experience lasts for more than a split second, but our neurological wiring tries its best to establish a sense of familiarity and continuity and solidity. Most of that occurs beneath our awareness. Mental suffering arises, however, when we intentionally try to hold on to some parts of experience and push away others, and get determined to take control and orchestrate our experience. This only leads to dissatisfaction.

  While this may resonate conceptually, we are not inclined to look closely at dissatisfaction; we would rather look anywhere else. However for more than twenty-five hundred years, meditators have consistently reported the benefits of taking a direct look at the causes of mental suffering. So for the moment, try to suspend your skepticism in order to practice the guided meditation below. It can lead to a more direct investigation into the causes of self-created mental distress.

  GUIDED MEDITATION: THE RIVER RUNS THROUGH US

  1. Take a few minutes to settle down, quieting the body and breath, arriving more fully here in the present, glad to be here, wanting to be here.

  2. Settle back in a receptive posture and notice that experience keeps arising all on its own. The heart keeps beating, the breath keeps moving in and out, and awareness of one thing after another keeps happening: now a sound, now a body sensation, now the breath, now a thought, now another thought.

  3. Notice this directly. Stay with this until it becomes clear.

  4. When an analytical thought arises, imagine that it is simply the next moment in the stream of experience and that it is not possible to step outside of that stream.

  5. Now try to stop the flow of experience. Pay attention to what happens as you do this. Does the flow of experience stop?

  6. Let go of that effort, settle back as much as possible, and relax in the ongoing flow of experience.

  7. Take a few more easy breaths before slowly opening the eyes.

  Inviting the Unwanted Guests

  The next step of looking at mental distress goes against the grain. Now we consciously invite something difficult into our relatively pleasant inner holding environment. Who does that? That’s the last thing I want to do. Now that I’m settled, why would I want to disturb the moment?

  A technique in psychotherapy called interoceptive exposure can be highly effective in treating anxiety. In this approach, the client is encouraged to activate the physical symptoms of anxiety and use vivid imagination to arouse these intense feelings. In some cases the client may put himself in the actual situation that creates high anxiety. The goal is to eventually desensitize the person to the anxiety-provoking situation.

  Obviously the client needs to have a very clear understanding of the rationale for this technique, and confidence in the therapist. With this approach, the client notices that if he or she can stay with the challenging evocative imagery, the anxiety, thoughts, and physical symptoms gradually lessen in intensity. The patient thus begins to gain confidence in his or her ability to lower an elevated level of anxiety and also discovers that with repetition, the mind begins to desensitize to the imagery that once caused great anxiety. Overall reactivity declines.

  At one point, after helping a client get over a lifelong fear of elevators, I wondered why this approach was not taught as a meditation technique. Wouldn’t it be equally effective in working with difficult emotions in meditation? And it is, I found. But like some individuals who suffer with anxiety, meditators are often not willing to take this initially uncomfortable approach. After all, it involves arousing the very thoughts and feelings they came to meditation to get rid of, once and for all.

  For willing meditators, however, this exposure approach is especially effective if one has learned to cultivate a calm holding environment. The principle is the same as in working with anxiety. Usually, challenging mind states show up unbidden. They tend to hijack mindfulness and set in motion aversion, followed by strategies of avoidance, bargaining, partial toleration, and often discouragement. Instead, meditators can create a calm and spacious holding environment first and then invite an unwanted guest to the party, paying careful attention as they do so.

  GUIDED MEDITATION: INVITING THE UNWANTED GUEST

  1. Take a few minutes to settle the body and soften the breath.

  2. Aim to bring your overall energy/anxiety to 4.

  3. Bring to mind a situation, from the past or more recently, that elicits a moderate degree of agitation or anxiety.

  4. Make the image as vivid as possible, bringing to the fore any uncomfortable physical sensations associated with it.

  5. Stay as mindful as possible of the unpleasant thoughts, feelings, and sensations. Aim to bring the level of anxiety to 7.

  6. Now let go of the imagery, and reestablish the calming holding environment. Bring the energy level back to 4.

  7. Repeat this cycle three or four times. Carefully take note of any changes as you move through these repetitions.

  8. In the last few minutes of each repetition, reestablish and rest in the inner holding environment.

  The following exercise takes this work a step further. Rather than releasing the imagery in order to reestablish the holding environment, you try to elicit the calm state while staying with the unpleasant imagery.

  GUIDED MEDITATION: TRANSFORMING THE UNWANTED GUEST

  1. Repeat steps 1 through 7 above.

  2. The next time you bring the anxiety level to 7, begin to soften the breath while staying focused on the aversive imagery.

  3. With each exhalation, allow the stress and aversion to flow down and out of the body and mind.

  4. Notice that the unpleasant thoughts and imagery are still present, but the mind and body are becoming more relaxed, less reactive.

  5. Aim to bring the energy to 4, but without letting go of the thoughts and images.

  6. Pay close attention as you engage this process.

  7. In the last few minutes of the meditation, reestablish and rest in the inner holding environment.

  The first exercise develops the core skill of returning to a comfortable home base in the face of adversity. When irritation arises in the mind, have you noticed how it tends to proliferate? Agitation tends to breed more agitation. One of the primary sources of mental suffering stems from our inability to shift to a more wholesome state when the internal landscape is stormy.

  The second meditation develops the more advanced skill of establishing the holding environment in the presence of something uncomfortable. We can’t always shift to a greener pasture in the midst of life’s challenging moments. Learning how to reduce reactivity in the midst of adversity is one of the high arts of mindfulness practice. If you can have a terrible thought and not react to it by tensing or averting, it loses much of its power to create suffering.

  This final mental-distress game involves noticing what disturbs or ruffles the calm internal holding environment once it has been established.

  GUIDED MEDITATION: TROUBLE IN PARADISE

  1. Take a few minutes to settle down, quieting the body and breath.

  2. Take your time in establishing the holding environment, inviting heart qualities of delight, gratitude, warmth, and wonder.

  3. Deepen the quality of calm.

  4. Settle back and begin to open to the flow of changing experience.

  5. Carefully attend to what disrupts or ruffles the state of calm receptivity.

  6. When some thought or feeling or physical sensation interrupts the calm flow of experience, stay with it or consciously return to it again and again, until you can maintain the state of calm even with the presence of the disturbance.

  7. In the last few minutes, return to the simplicity of sitting and breathing easily.

  8. Take a few more breaths before slowly opening the eyes.

  Having now explored dissatisfaction and impermanence, we will turn our attention to the nature of the elusive self (anatta). This final characteristic is the most counterintuiti
ve of them all.

  Paradoxically, insight into its nature is deeply rewarding.

  QUESTIONS FOR CONSIDERATION

  My reactions of reaching for something I want or pushing away something negative seem to happen so quickly. You say that this is part of our wiring and that mental suffering is universal. Then how can I stop it?

  It’s true that mental suffering is part of our wiring, and that is a good thing. From an evolutionary perspective, early humans had to rapidly identify danger, especially predators. We are wired to move away from physical pain and gravitate toward safety and comfort.

  We have learned over time to apply the same basic approach to our mental processes. We tend to relate to negative thoughts and feelings as if we were pulling our hand away from a hot stove. But trying to push away our alarm creates an agitated internal environment that generates more negative thoughts and feelings. Furthermore, there is nothing inherently “hot” in our mental experiences; thoughts and feelings are only made hot by our aversion to them. It is not our experiences but our responses to those experiences that shape our mental states. Over time the mind sees this connection more clearly, undeniably, and begins to adapt in a new manner that is less reactive and stressful.

  My mind works so fast that I wonder if it is really possible to slow it down enough to see the disturbing thoughts soon enough to do something different.

  You’re right. The mind does work very fast. The emphasis in these guided imagery games is on calming the mind, not slowing it. From this perspective we can begin to see two components to every moment of experience: appraisal and response. Yes, most of the time these components blend together and happen automatically. The unconscious makes a rapid assessment of contact with every experience of seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, smelling, or thinking. It instantly assesses each experience to be pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral, and initiates the corresponding reaction of moving toward the pleasant, away from the unpleasant, or ignoring the neutral.

  With mindfulness, we can learn to be less reactive to the assessment of the experience and to respond in a manner that minimizes distress. For example, I am meditating on the patio, and a neighbor starts a home improvement project with a chain saw. My immediate reaction is mild irritation. I could expand on that internally, right? Instead I close my eyes, draw a few slow breaths, and imagine that the sound is a lovely, calming sound vibration washing over me. I have created a different response that eliminates my distress and completely shifts my relationship to this initially irritating sound. Irritation is in the eye of the beholder, and this can be transformed, without trying to slow the mind.

  I sometimes worry that I might get stuck in a negative state. Can this happen?

  One of the liberating insights in this practice is the discovery that even difficult mind states are impermanent. It is also empowering to see that we can tolerate these states more than previously, that they are not overwhelming. We can also learn to create the conditions for these states to weaken and disperse, to not take hold or hijack us so dramatically. Moving gradually and delicately in this area is wise however: slowly, kindly, patiently.

  I was taught to be mindful of discomfort or negativity when it arises; just label it, be with it, and try not to get hijacked. Your style seems to be more gradual. I’m concerned that I might be avoiding some things if I take this approach.

  We are wired to avoid pain and move toward pleasure. If we try to attend to something unpleasant too soon in mindfulness practice, it will be coupled with a white-knuckled response or bargaining in some form (e.g., I will be with this if it helps it to go away). I am quite familiar with the no-holds-barred approach to working with difficult mind states that you describe. However, there is so much going on in these states, including aversion, self-recrimination, and restlessness, that trying not to get hijacked is like trying to manage a cascade of negativity. The capacity to hold what is happening is absent.

  Working with these states is very important, but it is an advanced application of mindfulness. I encourage a gradual process of regulating exposure to difficult or negative emotions so as to not overwhelm the system. Rather than completely turning away from difficult states or diving into them in an unbalanced fashion, with this approach you will be on firmer ground to work with future challenging mental states that will arise.

  17

  THE MALLEABLE SELF

  NOTHING IN BUDDHIST PSYCHOLOGY IS MISUNDERSTOOD as frequently as anatta, the doctrine of no-self. It leads to mistaken notions that the self is an illusion or the belief that if I meditate really well, the sense of self will completely disappear—as if that would be a very good thing. Where would it go? What would replace it? We wouldn’t think it desirable if sounds disappeared, or sights or taste, so why would it be liberating if the sense of self vanishes in meditation? If the self is not an illusion and it does not disappear with meditation practice, then what is meant by “no-self”?

  With minimal meditation experience, one can get corroborating glimpses of the first two characteristics of existence: impermanence and mental suffering. The truth of impermanence (anicca) is obvious in everyday life, and meditation on it simply deepens insight into this ordinary truth. Similarly, one can easily grasp that clinging to the desirable and avoiding the difficult brings mental suffering. We have all had experiences of persistent clinging and its tormenting sequelae. The concept of dukkha simply invites a more subtle inquiry into this matter.

  The notion of the separate self being insubstantial, however, is not obvious in any way. To say that it doesn’t exist or that its existence is questionable flies in the face of common sense. The presence of a self that perceives the world and responds to it is clear and obvious. It is the most constant presence in our lives. For better and for worse, it is home base.

  There are two issues to be explored here. The first is to clarify what is meant by “no-self.” The second is to determine its usefulness or relevance in the matter of reducing mental suffering.

  Redefining “No-Self”

  Once again, translation issues come into play. The term “no-self” simply is not accurate. Even after a great deal of meditation practice, nothing about this terminology rings true. In fact, my own misconceptions of this have created much additional dukkha! For many years, I thought that if my intention was strong, my effort consistent, I would see that there is no self and that this would set “me” free. This did not happen, and for many years I attributed this to failure on my part.

  More accurate and clear terminology is “shifting self,” “non-enduring self,” “noninherent self,” “conditioned self.” The implication is not that this self that we hold so dear doesn’t exist, but that it is simply not as solid as we would like to believe, that it does not stand somehow outside of or above experience, that like everything else it is a product of causes and conditions. The self is not a solid thing located somewhere inside the body. It is the product of a series of interacting processes—a composite, an amalgam, a fusion. Like everything else in our experience, it is more wave than particle.

  The self is a developmental achievement. It arises over time through interaction with the environment. It develops through a series of processes and is maintained by perception, comparing, orienting, thinking, memory, and so on. A whirring fan blade is a good analogy for our sense of self. At a certain speed, the blade appears to be nearly still and relatively stable. However, there are many things in rapid motion contributing to this perception of stillness. Similarly our neurological wiring is working nonstop behind the scenes to create the perception of a stable, coherent self.

  Even if this makes sense in an abstract way, you may wonder why it is worth examining more closely. Why would I want to investigate the insubstantial nature of the self? Won’t it just increase anxiety? Not when you discover that it isn’t that the self vanishes or that we become disoriented. What changes is that our relationship to the self becomes lighter. We discover that the self is pliable, malleable. I find it helpful to th
ink of anatta as “malleable self” rather than “no-self.”

  What a relief it was to discover this! Of course the self exists. It’s just that it is a fluid process rather than a fixed “thing.” It can shape-shift according to circumstance, respond differently depending upon the situation, consider from multiple angles, make choices.

  This perspective makes sense, and I can directly experience the truth of it. I also can see the benefit in increasingly relating to the self as malleable. After all, the self also gets stuck and rigid and creates imprisoning thought and feeling worlds, creates suffering for itself. The understanding of self as malleable opens the possibility that self-defeating patterns are also just that—patterns, not immutable bedrock truths. If the self is inherently flexible and fluid, these patterns can be changed. Rigid boundaries can give way to a more permeable membrane. Angry thoughts may arise, for example, but this no longer implies that I am a “bad person.” In fact harsh, self-critical beliefs can gradually be viewed in a more compassionate light. If the self is truly fluid, why would I want to keep hitting myself with a stick? My partner and I remind each other of this perspective regularly. When one of us loses or forgets something, or speaks in a less than exemplary manner, the other says, “You are still a good person.” A careless moment need not define or even constrict us. Gratefully the self, like everything else, is a fluid, ongoing construction. It is more water than rock.

  It is a great relief to begin to experience more spaciousness and lightness related to the self. It is not the self that is problematic. It is the seriousness with which we relate to it. Mindful investigation into the nature of the self, like changing the oil in your car, supports the self to operate in a less sticky, more smoothly functioning, more flexible manner: malleable self.

  The guided meditation below places the thought of self as the central object of awareness.