Most thematic meditation objects are deeply embedded in the culture in which they are employed, to the extent that they lose their meaning if taken out of this context, while nonthematic meditation objects have at least a core element that transcends cultural differences. In other words, thematic meditation objects most obviously include directive elements, “planting concrete ideas of future states that manifest in reality over time.”34 Nonthematic meditation objects, however, are in themselves basically nondirective and instead trigger autonomic responses in body and mind, and practitioners are typically warned against goal orientation, because this reduces the openness to transformations that are meant to unfold naturally from within.
Scientists often include the “suspension of logical thought processes,” also called “logic relaxation,” as a part of their definition of meditation, reflecting a nonthematic rather than a thematic orientation, and they commonly assume that all forms of meditation aim to “discourage logical and conceptual thinking.”35 This is partly true even of thematic meditation objects, since discursive meditation often aims at a slow and associative reflection that goes beyond mere logical reasoning, which in the early Christian tradition is typically compared to the rumination of animals.36 Still, the connection between a meditation object and its intended effect is closer and more logical in thematic than in nonthematic objects of meditation.
In the monotheistic religions originating in the Middle East, meditation objects are mostly thematic rather than purely technical, typically focusing on God (or His representations on Earth) or on sacred scripture or, in some traditions, on images. Similar thematic forms of meditation are also common in South and East Asian traditions, such as the chanting of sūtras, the visualization of buddhas, or the recitation of buddha names within Buddhism. In South and East Asian traditions, however, there also exists a large group of more clearly nonthematic meditation objects based on technical elements related to body, breath, and sensation. Some technical elements are found in Christian, Judaic, and Islamic forms of meditation too, including the role of the body in Sufi dhikr,37 the uses of breath in Eastern Orthodox hesychasm and some of St. Ignatius of Loyola’s spiritual exercises, and the suggestion in “The Cloud of Unknowing” that meditative prayer should be based on monosyllabic utterances. In these practices, however, the main object of meditation is almost always thematic.
The fact that modern scientists emphasize the technical rather than thematic aspects of meditation has led to an almost exclusive interest in methods originating in Asia. Among the 1,031 scientific studies of meditation referenced and reviewed by Ospina et al., we find only a single article dealing with any of the religions originating in the Middle East, a study comparing the effects of Catholic rosary prayer and Yogic mantra meditation.38 Even among Asian practices, strongly thematic forms of meditation are seldom included in scientific studies. Science typically looks for general, universal mechanisms and attempts to look away from the cultural or religious features that thematic meditation objects often bring to the forefront. Ospina et al. observe that among the methods they have studied, “no meditation practice required the adoption of a specific religious framework.”39 This reflects a technical and nonthematic view of meditation, in which cultural or religious settings are not parts of the techniques as such, the way they are in thematic meditation objects.
The distinction between thematic and nonthematic meditation objects is much more complex than might be easily assumed. In the humanities, where a constructivist view of meditation is common, it is often assumed that meditation cannot be studied independently of its cultural or religious background, as scientists often do. The psychologist Michael A. West also argues that meditation may be “inextricably bound up with belief systems and expectations,”40 and questions whether it makes sense to study meditation outside of its cultural context. From this point of view, the distinction between thematic and nonthematic meditation objects is of little relevance, since even nonthematic objects are so strongly imbued with cultural meaning and thematic content that they are just as strongly integrated in the setting in which they are learned and practiced as are thematic objects, and are just as suggestive. For instance, while the breath in itself is a neutral element, its use as a meditation object may be interpreted as an illustration of Buddhist ideas of transience, or may be tied to ideas about cosmic life energies such as Indian prāṇa or Chinese qì.41 The “heart” or the chest, like other body parts, is in itself a neutral element, but it may be understood in terms of various notions of a “subtle” or “mystical” body, such as Indian cakra, Chinese dāntián, or Islamic lata’if, or as the location of spiritual love in Christianity.42 Purely sensory meditation objects, like meaningless sound combinations (mantra, śābda) and geometrical figures (yantra) in Indian traditions, are also in and of themselves neutral but are typically associated with deities and suffused with cultural and metaphysical symbolism. Suggestive elements in the framework surrounding meditation may influence the practice even of techniques that are at the outset nonthematic.
However, thematic meditation objects also make use of technical elements. In terms of culture and religion, it clearly makes a difference whether one recites the name of the Virgin Mary, Allah, Krishna, or Amitābha Buddha. In terms of technical working mechanisms, however, these are more or less the same, and each allows for technical variations, for example, loud chanting, quiet murmuring, silent repetition, and so on. Similarly, visualizations of Jesus Christ, the Hindu goddess Kālī, the bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara, or the deified Daoist master Lǎozǐ are culturally and religiously different, but in many technical respects they resemble each other closely. Not only are the suggestive working mechanisms that lie at the heart of such practices in themselves universal and in a sense technical in nature, but the acts of repeated recitation and prolonged visualization are technical elements with effects that go beyond pure suggestion.
One particular type of thematic meditation object is the Zen keyword often referred to by the Japanese term kōan, with famous examples including “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” and “[Does even a dog have buddha nature?] No!” These kōans clearly have thematic content but are designed to break down ordinary language and logic and bring the meditator beyond their semantic meaning. In the words of Hānshān Déqīng, “You should not seek to understand the keyword, but only use it to generate doubt and to chop off and block out all deluded thoughts.” 43
The equation between thematic meditation objects and directive working mechanisms is not absolute. Some thematic objects of meditation may be, in principle at least, quite independent of their cultural or religious settings. Meditations focusing on universal existential issues, such as death, do not have to be couched in cultural or religious language; on the contrary, they may seek to approach the naked reality of such issues beyond cultural and religious notions. In such cases, we have thematic meditation dealing with universal issues.44
Finally, it is not quite clear how to classify so-called apophatic practices, forms of meditation designed to restrict, eliminate, or look beyond cognitive, emotional, and sensory impressions in order to approach an ineffable reality beyond. Such practices are found in most religious traditions on the Eurasian continent, including the Christian via negativa, Buddhist approaches to an-ātman, “no self,” and the Daoist methods called zuò-wàng, “sitting in oblivion.” 45 As in the case of death, it is possible to look upon the ineffable reality beyond all cognition and sense perception as a universal existential issue, and to treat apophatic practices as thematic forms of meditation dealing with universal issues. In contrast to the case of death, however, the existence of such a reality is not universally accepted. All ideas about such a reality by necessity activate the cognitions and sensations that these methods are meant to go beyond. In the debates surrounding mysticism, cultural constructivists argue that the so-called reality beyond is inextricably tied to such ideas, in which case apophatic practices are simply directive forms of thematic me
ditation aimed at integrating cultural and religious notions of ultimate reality. Others, however, argue that the capacity to fathom such a reality is not primarily a question of instilling in the practitioner certain ideas, but of using nondirective practices to awaken a potential residing within human beings.46 Under this latter interpretation, it is tempting to classify apophatic forms of meditation as technical and nonthematic. However, such practices are often accompanied by ideas refuting the value of “techniques” and “methods” and favoring a more “direct” approach. It is also possible, at least for practical purposes, to treat apophatic practices as a third category, in addition to directive and nondirective.
To sum up, thematic meditation objects fill the mind with semantic, cognitive, or devotional content and build on directive working mechanisms, while nonthematic meditation objects use instead nondirective technical elements to elicit autonomic responses in body and mind. Apophatic practices seek to approach directly a reality beyond all cognitive and sensory perception. As we have seen, however, thematic and nonthematic (and arguably also apophatic) elements are often mixed in one and the same practice, and few meditation practices belong exclusively to either type.
The Effects of Directive and Nondirective Meditation
This chapter has argued for a fundamental distinction between directive and nondirective forms of meditation, based on the ways they attempt to achieve their effects. The former seek to bring about transformative change by means of external influence, while the latter aim to activate internal reflexive mechanisms in the body and mind of the practitioner. The former attempt to manipulate the spontaneous contents of the mind in preset directions, by working toward specific experiences, feelings, or states of mind, while the latter typically leave the spontaneous activities of the mind to proceed of their own accord, without active external interference.
As discussed in this chapter, the basis for the distinction between directive and nondirective meditation lies in the contrast between suggestive versus nonsuggestive settings, concentrative versus nonconcentrative mental attitudes, and thematic versus technical meditation objects, of which the two latter pairs have been discussed in some detail. Other features may also influence the degree of directiveness. For instance, the multiplex contrast between guided and self-administered meditation practices may play an important role, guided practices typically being more directive, while self-administered practices at least leave more room for open, nondirective exploration.
While the distinction between directive and nondirective meditation is based on the ways in which the methods attempt to achieve their effects, it is an open question to what extent it also influences the effects themselves. Some meditative traditions have argued that the various forms of meditation merely constitute different paths toward the same goal or goals, while other traditions hold that the type of method also affects the eventual result.
In language sometimes resembling new age terminology, Claudio Naranjo suggests that directive and nondirective forms of meditation ultimately “converge upon a common end state.”47 According to him, even directive meditation techniques ultimately explore and awaken in the individual the same fundamental features that nondirective ones do. In the same spirit, Livia Kohn points out that even practitioners of hypnosis (which according to her provides the basis for the working mechanisms of meditation) “frequently speak about waking the inner wisdom, encouraging natural intuition, or even unfolding the true self in their clients.”48
In a more scholarly context, Bettina Bäumer makes a similar, though more specific, argument for the Indian Tantric form of meditation called bhāvanā, or creative contemplation. This is a highly directive practice, in which the meditators are encouraged to create certain mental states and realizations by first imagining them and then gradually integrating them as genuine parts of themselves. For instance, by meditating on the void, one enters the state of the void; by imagining that one’s body or the world is filled with bliss, one becomes united with a supreme bliss; and, somewhat paradoxically, by fixing one’s mind on the external space, one is eventually absorbed in nonspace.49 In the present volume, Madhu Khanna refers to techniques of the same type. In this view, the changes brought about by directive meditation are not simply imposed from the outside but exist as potentials in the practitioner, though they are helped to fruition by external and directive stimuli.
In contrast, Mircea Eliade argues strongly against the Swedish scholar Sigurd Lindquist’s attempt to demonstrate “the hypnotic [≈ directive] nature of yogic experience,”50 pointing out that ancient Indian sources clearly distinguished between hypnosis and meditative processes, as Surendranath Dasgupta had argued before him.51 Eliade contends that hypnosis (and, by implication, directive meditation) leads only to a provisional “damming of the ‘stream of consciousness’” and “paralysis … of the mental flux,” comparable to the “easy extinction of consciousness” through “trances and ecstasies obtained from intoxicants, narcotics, and all the other elementary means of emptying consciousness.” The “enstasy” (Skt. samādhi) brought about by meditation differs from this kind of “self-hypnosis” and “fetal preconsciousness” in providing reintegration and unity in a frame of mind characterized by “the utmost lucidity” and “superconsciousness” or “transconsciousness.” Unlike hypnosis, it does not reach for a “given situation” but establishes “a new and paradoxical mode of being.”52
Many scientists ignore the technical differences between meditation practices, simply providing the name of the method they study.53 Others, however, attempt to show that directive and nondirective (or concentrative and nonconcentrative) forms of meditation actually produce different results. Daniel P. Brown argues that practitioners of directive meditation typically go through “distinct levels of practice” with a “logical order” and an “invariant sequence,” whereas the types of nondirective meditation he studies “do not have well-defined levels” but lead, after many years of practice, to “a sudden and dramatic reorganization of cognition.”54 Several reports discuss how different mental attitudes lead to differences in brain-wave patterns,55 neuroimaging patterns,56 uses of attention,57 and a number of psychological (short-term) states and (long-term) traits, including creativity.58 One study finds that both directive and nondirective forms of meditation increase the activity of the brain’s default mode network, which is associated with mind wandering, but that nondirective forms have the greatest effects, especially in areas associated with the processing of memories and emotions.59 If these studies are correct, the distinction between directive and nondirective practices is not only technically important but may also be decisive for the eventual outcome of meditative practice.
Notes
This essay has been inspired by discussions among Acem instructors, as well as Holen, “Acem Meditation and Other Meditation Practices.” It has profited much from comments on an earlier version by Mark Teeuwen and Øyvind Ellingsen.
1. On “concentration” versus “insight,” see Goleman, “Meditation and Consciousness.” On “concentration” versus “mindfulness,” see Perez de Albeniz and Holmes, “Meditation”; and Davidson and Goleman, “Role of Attention.” Historically and terminologically, the conflation of “insight” (vipassanā) and “mindfulness” (sati) is confusing, since the two are at the outset quite distinct notions. In the Buddhist tradition, “mindfulness” may be just as strongly linked to “concentration” as to “insight,” and the common meditative practice “mindfulness of breathing” (ānāpānasati) is sometimes classified as a concentration technique, and at other times as an insight practice. In line with this, but in contrast to modern definitions, Edward Conze’s early exposition of Buddhist meditation distinguishes between three mental (or, in his terminology, subjective) attitudes: concentration, insight, and mindfulness (Conze, Buddhist Meditation, 16ff.).
2. Lutz et al., “Attention Regulation”; Manna et al., “Neural Correlates”; Sperduti et al., “Neurocognitive Model.”
3. Cf. Kohn, “Daoist Adaptation”; Kohn, “Taoist Insight Meditation.”
4. Cf. Lagopoulos et al., “Increased Theta and Alpha EEG Activity”; Nesvold et al., “Increased Heart Rate Variability”; Xu et al., “Nondirective Meditation”. The distinction between “directive” and “nondirective” meditation was first made in Naranjo, “Meditation,” though with a slightly different distinction than the one made here.
5. Ferrer and Sherman, “Introduction.”
6. Benson, Relaxation Response, 12; cf. Beary and Benson, “Simple Psychophysiologic Technique.”
7. The distinction between directive and nondirective practices breaks with the social, cultural, and linguistic constructivism that has dominated cultural and religious studies for decades. While today no one seriously disputes the formative role of contextual factors, constructivism has more recently been challenged from a variety of angles, some arguing for the agency of the individual subject in the face of external influences, others for the centrality of the body and its energies, as well as affective, intuitive, and other prelogical aspects of consciousness, yet others opening up for spiritual and noumenal qualities beyond materialist or naturalist visions of reality. The present chapter may be seen as a modest contribution to this debate, mainly by contrasting working mechanisms that correspond to a constructivist view of meditation with more purely technical ones. For a summary of trends that break with social, cultural, and linguistic constructivism, see Ferrer and Sherman, “Introduction.”
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