What is a “Meditative/Mindful” Approach to Vexation?

                After my presentation at the IAACS conference, one participant had asked me whether mindfulness might “wear away the edges” of the citizen, by eroding passions that are necessary to make important changes to the society. The participant used the example of anger to suggest that some progress can occur when a person acts on their sense of injustice. The participant also remarked that sometimes citizens need to be impelled by a sense of vexations (or specifically, anger) in order to be motivated to change unjust conditions. I think that this subject deserves special attention, because it also touches upon the relationship between mindfulness practice and anger in general.  I want to sketch a process in general for how anger could be handled mindfully.

                In a speech called “Chan and Modern Life” (collected in the book Chan and Enlightenment), Venerable Master Sheng Yen addresses what he feels are the main problems that citizens face in modern life. He identifies four such problems as a) the fast pace of modern life; b) fewer direct interactions between people; c) more abundance of desires resulting from high material wealth; and d) the sense of stress and uncertainty about the future (p.301). What characterizes Master Sheng Yen’s list of social issues faced by modern people is that they seem to start from basic existential conditions that people face. Without the ability to interact with one another, how can we become good citizens? How can we take the time to reflect on matters that concern all social beings, if the pace of life seems too fast? How can people interact when their desires are so great? Rather than going into the causes of specific social inequalities, Master Sheng Yen describes the basic conditions that could lead to social unrest. And it relates to how people are in today’s world.

                Today, after I came home from work, there was some agitation inside me. I was wound up and thought about things I want to do but could not find out where to start with it. I think that part of the reason was that I had just came back from vacation, and the adjustment to work might have felt stressful. I was reluctant to start meditating, but it seemed like the only thing I could do to settle the mind. But when I meditated, I had no idea about my intention. I just let the words of the huatou settle my mind and didn’t even think I could focus on the method at all. The simple sound of the huatou made sense to me—it had a rhythmic pattern that allowed me to really settle. Even though I had given up really finding a profound meaning and benefit in that very unsettling, agitated moment, I was still able to find a simple benefit to calm the mind. And I started to directly observe the suffering I was feeling. I saw myself scrambling, feeling pushed and crushed, and feeling pressured to work faster and more efficiently, completing more. I felt the sense of fear of being left behind at work. I felt the sense of fear of not having a place to belong in the volunteer group. All my self-related worries were there, coming to the surface. But without the meditative space, I would not be able to see a way above it or around it. I started to appreciate the fact that my mind had became a little more quiescent. And though I found it hard to believe, it did help me in the time I sat.

                The point of all this is to say that what Sheng Yen is describing in the greater society is really a reflection of what is happening within. And the two are not really separate. Being rushed (“fast pace of life”), not being soothed by the community of other beings, having too many desires to do too many things (and not being calm enough to focus on one thing at a time) are all states of being. The society doesn’t start from ‘out there’, but it starts from an existential feeling of what society is meaning to our bodies. All of these experiences are felt bodily experiences, and they impact us on a mental and bodily level. Finally, the uncertainty about the future is this sense of ‘what next’ that often assails me as I am coming home from work. And that anxiety relates to the way I am conditioned to identify with what I do and what I accomplish from day to day. Meditation allows a space where I start to feel these sensations as embodied ones, not as abstract social concepts that are ‘out there’ waiting to be influenced by a greater mass of people or government.

                I believe that it is true: at times, our vexations can lead to productivity. But more often than not, they lead to a sense of confusion as to what is important in life. And they lead to a lot of attachment to trying to get more and more done. If our minds cannot relax or find space to observe its own energies, it simply follows the chain of causes and conditions without cease. And that in turn can lead to mistakes and not seeing a bigger picture. Taking care of other beings has to come from me reflecting on how my body and mind are facing situations. Am I trying to solve the problem by controlling things outside me, or controlling others? Or am I deeply reflecting on what I am able to do in the moment? Am I creating space for myself through mindfulness to decide what is appropriate for me to do? Or am I taking on more than I can handle in the present moment? These sorts of observations seem to come best when I do have a point of view from which to observe the nature of my thoughts.
               I think to summarize some of my observations:  citizenship needs to come from a clear understanding of how the pace of life around me affects me, and how it affects my ability to interact peacefully with other beings to create positive experiences. Sometimes this is not about having a good idea or a nice theory. It can mean having a solid experience of a clear body and mind, which comes from a meditative experience of some sort.
    

Sheng Yen, (2014) Chan and Enlightenment. New York, NY: Dharma Drum Publishing