Category: EVENTS

During our evolution we lost our fangs, claws and venom as we traded up for a big brain.  As this brain grew, it gained the processing ability to go beyond the defensive reaction of its dark beginnings and, learning to see a bigger picture, strategize its way past danger and toward sustenance. This remarkable ascension is still happening and that’s a wonderful thing. Yet, that growth happened so quickly, our minds are developing new skills while our brain is still holding to old processes.  This creates a dissonance between a view of what may be possible and what we fear could happen.

One of the most venerable of our ancient systems is our survival instinct. As our brain initially expanded as a defensive measure it also developed a spiritual, artistic and intellectual capacity yet unseen on our planet. Yet, that defensive survival imperative still exists – and, in fact may be more inflamed by the rapid changes it faces. Our mind gives precedence to negativity and fear as a survival strategy. Survival is compelling. A part of us values panic over relaxation. As we begin to see what is possible for us, a darkened part from of our past rears its head. When we become triggered, our mind spins as it tries to work its way out of the perceived danger. This happens too quickly for us to track and so we tend to wake up in the middle of some obsessive thought as a focus of our anxiety. We find ourselves working out a familiar thought in our mind over and over again. “Why did I say that?” “Why didn’t I tell them this?”  The process is more about fear of a problem than it is a mindful attempt to solve the problem. We become stuck in our brain. And since the mind is not thinking in a way that can solve the problem, we may begin to feel inadequate and victimized by life.

Because we are still indebted to ancient defenses our mind closes down around that one thing it feels threatened by.  Although a reaction to fear, the narrative may try and feel strong by manifesting anger to an object or ourselves. That little voice in the head telling us there is something wrong about ourselves, is a means of bad self-parenting. We’re trying to fix ourselves but this only serves to make us depleted and weakened. It is sadly ironic that just when we need our mind the most, it turns from awareness into compulsion.

Meditation practice trains the mind to cut past the compulsion. When we notice our mind thinking, we let it go and return to the breath. This is not to get rid of the thought, but to free the thought from its compulsive cycling. This mindfulness of mind gives us the power to turn our mind from compulsion to awareness. Yet, the momentum of our cycling mind is so powerful, it takes a lot of practice to learn to work with it. In time, we learn to stop believing the story, and work with the process.

When our meditation practice wanes we lose our “spiritual hygiene” and our emotional / mental immune system becomes compromised.  When this happens we become susceptible to random afflictions of mind. Small things, unresolved issues, and lingering questions become the seeds of creating a much larger blockage. When our mind lacks the strength to protect itself it becomes obsessed with whatever it is it is worried over. My teacher calls this being held hostage by our minds. “Give me that drink or I’ll torture us all night.” “I need that cookie or I’ll be in a bad mood all day.” I need, I want, and I have to have what I need to want right now. Yet, a moment from now it could be something entirely else we absolutely need to have. Our mind becomes demanding even when it doesn’t know what it wants. Our needy mind completely dominates our field of vision. Rather than take joy to the world around us, we are robbed by that one thing we can see past. And when we blame the object or ourselves we only serve to embed the process further.

So, the way out of this is the way in. The problem is in our activated sympathetic nervous system.  It’s not happening in our mind. Our mind is looking on in horror, but the seizure is happening in the nervous system. Whatever thoughts we might  have are tangential to the fact that we have been triggered, and in a fear state we are unable to see clearly. Our ancient mind is aflame and hijacks our higher reasoning. Our higher mind is conscripted to figure a way out of the spinning so it goes into overdrive. The panicked body clenches. Fear begets fear begets fear. This process happens more subtly when we are able to push compulsive thoughts aside and yet the toxic psychologies they create nonetheless fester in our mind and body. The gnawing feeling that we are not good enough, strong enough, smart enough are bags we carry. Some of us have carried them so long, we just assume they are real. And here is another sad irony. Everything changes. Therefore, a thought we’ve had for years, that has become embedded in us, is less likely to be valid. The fact that we are holding onto an idea for years doesn’t make it more real. In fact, our mindful mind would point to the contrary.

So, how do we live with this ancient brain in a modern developing mind? With care and respect. The mindful mind can be aware of itself.  With practice, it can develop the strength to be the leader of itself. Lead the mind, or it will lead you means that we would do well to learn about the mind – objectively – before we try and change anything. My teacher was fond of pointing out how we learn to much about everything except the tool that does the learning. Mindfulness of mind is learning to understand our mind. When are we likely to be hijacked by our ancient fear-based defenses? Maybe we can believe our brains less when our spiritual or emotional immunity is likely compromised, as in when we’re hungry, angry, lonely or tired. We can believe our mind less when we are absolutely SURE of anything. We can simply believe our stories less and feel our feelings more.

We will never figure it out while we are spinning. The mind is simply not at its best when it’s agitated. There is not clarity in agitation. The mind is at its most effective when it is calm. Calmness of body, brings calmness of mind. Calmness of mind allows the mind’s natural clarity to dawn. Even though we feel a compulsion to react to the problems of life, they are best addressed in serenity. So the work isn’t figuring out the problem. The work is protecting the mind from panic so it can see its way through. When we’re up all night spinning over something, the story is not real. The fear beneath the story is what’s real. Not the story of the fear, but the history of that fear. Hold the fear, and calm the body. And do whatever you can to support and love yourself. Our minds need us. We would do well to protect and honor them.

Living with a big brain takes care, understanding and training. The ancient brain needs to be led by kindness. And the modern mind needs to move beyond itself and continue to grow.

 

DO I EVEN KNOW IF I’M NOT HERE NOW?

As we go through life things happen that stop the mind long enough for us to be fully present. Sometimes these moments are beautiful, as in the birth of a child, or a connection with nature that stills the mind. Other times they may be painful such as the passing of a close friend, or a break up with a loved one. In these moments our defenses are stripped away long enough for us to have an authentic connection to the moment. Usually, we will go right back to over thinking, analyzing or otherwise taking selfies with the moment.

With meditation practice we are training to notice subtler and more ordinary moments that stop the mind. And perhaps more importantly, we learn to accept these authentic moments, as they are, without commentary for longer periods of time. This serves to infiltrate the wall of separation that we fabricate to keep ourselves isolated from life. You might say, we are turning the lights on to our life. If our mind is supple enough, we can see all life as alive and interactive. In time, we see ourselves as a part of everything rather than struggling to overcome anything. In popular culture, this is known as being one with everything. In Meditation traditions this is known as non-dual experience. Nondual experiences are instances of clear perception when we are directly connected to the moment as opposed to dualistic experiences when we are separated out and looking in.

The problem with cultivating nondual experience is that once we recognize it, we almost immediately begin to mentally quantify and qualify. This is akin to having a moment of connection with a love partner and then having to protect our vulnerability with a joke or a relationship plan. I like to joke that most of my love relationships were threesomes. Me, my partner and my brain. It’s ironic that our overthinking brain, rather than leading us to an understanding, actually distances us from the experience. We come by this naturally, as the conceptual layer of thinking is not there to lead us to wisdom, but to protect us from it. We will imagine a break up in a vain attempt to protect ourselves from heartbreak. Naturally, this only encourages that eventuality.

In most cases this un-investigated, compulsive thinking is like a blanket of static that surrounds us, like Charles Schultz’s Pigpen from the comic Peanuts. Pigpen was always followed by rings of dust and confusion. My first memory of becoming consciously mindful came when I read Suzuki Roshi saying that cleaning my room could be a first step towards waking up in my life. I would turn on WBAI and listen to Gary Knoll and clean my room with as calm a mind as I was able. I was undoubtedly experiencing pure moments now and then. I was one with the broom as it swept across the hardwood. I was taken by the Zen fable of the monk who while raking the monastery lawn inadvertently hit a rock. He became enlightened the moment the rock struck a tree. It seems these nondual moments of pure perception may be the gateway to a state of perpetual stabilization of our mindfulness. Unfortunately, knowing this only makes the possibility more remote as any conceptual framing only separates us from the gateway. So, we begin with sweeping the floor of our room. Just that. And returning our attention to that. Eventually, I turned off the radio, and let the music of the silence surround me. BUt what I mist remember of those mornings was the sun streaming through my glass block windows creating magic prisms on the floor. The simple act of coming back to now and clearing away the debris opened me to a greater world.

Mindfulness practice is returning to the moment again and again. Each time we return we have the opportunity to become clearer and more efficient with the process until we are simply saying now. Now. Now. This is the moment we are looking for because this is the only moment there is right now. Here. Here. Here. It’s only tedious as the mind wonders what else it might be doing. Just like the lover analyzing each stroke, we lose our connection and become desynchronized and impatient. There are remedies for this. Recognizing we are  straying or itching to stray, then lovingly returning to the life giving breath. And finally, releasing ourselves from commentary and resting in openness. In this way, we are reprogramming the mind away from needing to control life toward accepting the present moment just as it is. Whether coming back to the sweeping broom, or the rock hitting the tree mindfulness training will lead to peacefulness and a willingness to just be here with our lives.

Finally, and most alarmingly, that Pigpen cloud of random discursive thinking is not only separating us from direct connection to our life, it is also subconsciously programming us. We become used to avoidance as a strategy for protection. This only makes us more frightened. Our mind instinctively knows when it’s being fooled and coddled into complacency. Avoidance only works with superficial experience. But deep inside, where our anxiety lives, we know not paying attention leaves us vulnerable and unprotected. Avoidance only serves to make us more avoidant and more frightened as we are living in the dark. Also, as the bard said, “in this sleep of death what dreams may come? Aye, there’s the rub.” What are we telling ourselves as we sleepwalk through life? Are we supporting a toxic psychology that keeps us imprisoned in doubt and confusion? Are we randomly imagining catastrophes hence hastening their eventuality? Billie Eilish had a record called “Where Do We Go When We’re Asleep?”. It’s a very good question. What are we doing when we’re not paying attention? It is said, we are always generating something. When we are awake, we are generating further wakefulness. But, when we are asleep? What are we doing?

So, cutting through the dualistic barrier is like cracking a wall so light can penetrate, even a ray at a time. Each time we come back to the present we let a little light in. Our work then is to let that be. Not to stomp all over the light. It’s as if we draw the curtain to allow the light in, and then cover the window back up so the light doesn’t get out. That doesn’t work. But what we can do is develop two steps of recognition and return and add release to that. Just notice and let go. The grand canyon is beautiful. Notice, retun, release. My heart is broken. Notice, return, release. In this way, in time, we turn the lights on and with the light on.

WIth the lights on, we have the power to decide our intention. Which is to say, we know what we are doing.

 

 

 

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AWAKENING TO EMOTIONS

Every moment we become aware is a new beginning. Each time we come back to ourselves and the moment we are inhabiting, we have a fresh start. Although, most of the time the “stains” or attachments of our previous moments linger. So we enter our new moment with some baggage. Have you ever awoken in a good mood, only to remember you were in a break up, or had just lost a job and so felt obligated to go back to suffering?

Acknowledging how we are actually feeling is an important step in our fresh start. “I’m still feeling guilty”, “I’m still angry”. Felt senses often remain, like a veil over our next moment. Wiping the sleep from our eyes, we sometimes wake in the morning with echoes of our night’s dreaming like a cloak around us. Sometimes we don’t remember the details of the dream, but the feeling remains. Maybe this points to something peculiar in our daily life. The story is often ephemeral, while the feelings are more tangible. This experience is the opposite of our conventional approach where we believe thoughts and ignore our feelings. We attach to our version of events while diminishing or ignoring how we feel.  But our version of events relies on thoughts. And thoughts are notoriously unreliable.

Feelings, on the other hand, are happening in real time, in our body.

Trauma is often long past, but residual feelings from that pain may be happening now. So, we believe if we investigate the story, we will find a way of resolving the feeling. And perhaps this is sometimes helpful, but the way we feel right now is the best way to release the turmoil our body is creating in the moment. Feel the feeling. Don’t define it, or judge it. Just feel and sense where your body is reacting.  Feelings keep generating and updating the trauma narrative, so the actual events have morphed into entirely new scenarios. Often we take these iterations as fact, and dismiss our feelings as fantasy. And sadly, we often transfer the past scenario onto the present or the future. We are regretful of the past and gunshy of the present as we plan for a catastrophic future.

Understanding emotions begins with a willingness to accept our feelings right here, right now. It develops as that familiarity allows us to become less and less afraid of them  At some point we may realize that we can honor our feelings just as they are. That life is enriched by our feelings. In fact, our feelings and emotions might be the most human thing about our lives. The pain in our heart is what characterizes humanity. It is also happening now. If we are willing to accept and look into the felt senses, our discomfort might guide us more deeply into our life. It’s possible that although we re often afraid of our feelings and dismissive of emotions, feelings and emotions are the point of living.

Often emotional being is frequently described as an inner child. And like a child, we can learn to love and care for our broken heart so that our feelings become less crusty and defensive, and more tender. To some this seems a weakness. But it is the unfeeling crust of our defenses that create a calcification of our natural empathy and compassion. Our life becomes warped around our defenses. Our body holds tension in a misguided attempt to outrun our past. Our mind reiterates and projects catastrophe in a misguided attempt to protect ourselves from the future. And so the “bandits of hope and fear” rob us of the present. And the most important part of our life is happening in the present.

As with children, our fear of the responsibility might cause us to push them away or try to control their experiences. We might feel that our anger and anxiety are necessary to protect them. But is that the best way to protect them? The children are the point, not the obstacle. And while we can honor our children and our inner child, we can’t let then lead. Children need leadership and guidance as well as love. In the same way, working with emotions implies work. How can we honor our feelings, but still incorporate our intelligence so that we can protect our heart and ourselves? The answer begins right here. Come back. Release judgement. Allow the experience to unfold. See that the child is its own being and learn to de-fuse our reactive defenses and see them as other. I have fear. I have anger. I have jealousy. But I am not those things. I am the awake being that experiences but doesn’t identify. I am the awake being that allows. I am the awake being that cares. But I am not longer a child. I am the awake being that holds the child and allows it to grow.

And just as children grow, our emotions will change if we are not clinging to them. This is called “holding open space.” Be present but allow the changes to happen. Anger may turn to sadness, sadness to openness, openness to courage. We can protect our heart and still allow it to breath. In fact, we can allow it to sing and to dance and to love.

I love the story about how in modern times we need to describe feelings and proscribe an antidote. When a patient is depressed doctors administer medication which implies treating a disease. We often identify with our diagnosis. “I am bipolar”. “I am neurodivergent.” I have adhd.” And these become defects we try and change. In native cultures when a depressed person came to the healer the healer would ask “when did you stop dancing”. “When did you stop singing?”  Maybe there is nothing to fix and everything to love. Loving our sadness, loving our pain, loving our tenderness, loving our joy. These are the doorways to our life.

Notice. Accept. Feel. Release.

This is awakening.