How do we know when to cut depressive thoughts and when to allow them to happen? Isn't that a funny question? Although it sounds strange, I have found from my own experiences that we often feel we deserve to be sad when we are truly sad. It's as though there were some evolutionary advantage to depressive thoughts that necessitates dwelling in that place for as long as we can until we can "soak in" in the unique lessons that it contains. While some of this might be true or even validated by science, I am not so sure if it's necessary to stay in a depressed state for very long. Solomon, in his book Noonday Demon, reminds readers about recent hypotheses which view depression as a survival mechanism that ensures we do not keep repeating the same destructive patterns again and again. What better way to do so than to make a person too sad to enjoy or even perform their regular routines? That's the (un)power of depression, alas.
I think that when a person feels paralyzed by a mood of numbness or despair, that's a sign that they need to examine their thinking to see what is taking them to that place. Some psychologists focus on self esteem and the need to feel competent or to develop self mastery over certain disciplines (see Basch, 1988, p.29). But when a person is really feeling down (as everyone from time to time does), it might not be helpful to focus on trying to get a person to perform competently in that moment. After all, their energy may be so consumed in self-downing or nihilistic thoughts that they hardly have the energy to sustain a competency in some favored pursuit or hobby. Instead, in those particular moments, it might be more helpful to focus on whether or not these thoughts of worthlessness are really helping a person. Are they actually true? Or are these thoughts merely serving to make a person immobilized?
Our experiences with other people can teach us a thing or two in this area. Often when a person is feeling despairing about something they are not particularly proud of or might have "screwed up" on, they are so emphatic about that particular shortcoming while downplaying things that they are able to do. In these situations, it's impossible to convince a person that they have values which outweigh the thing they think they did so terribly. But it is possible to say, "well, even if this were true, what or who is it serving?" Simply dwelling on a negative experience does not make it better or "redeem" a person. On the contrary, it often conditions a person to become immobile and passive when in fact there are many choices available for that person to enrich their life and those around them.
The idea that feeling bad is a way to eventually feel good may have come from an early form of "accidental" conditioning which goes something like: if I look sad or blue, eventually someone comes over and comforts me or gives me attention. But of course, this is not at all necessarily the case, and a better idea is for a person to find ways to self-soothe in those difficult moments rather than looking to others for affirmation. If I cling to the idea that my depressive mood will eventually lead others to care for me is also a rude awakening: most people do not want to be around depression that much that they would want to take care of it, on top of which they may have their own depressive episodes to deal with. Here, the important thing is to recognize the emotion and why a person is sustaining it, as well as to ask whether doing so is really productive or not.
Basch, Franz Michael (1988). Understanding Psychotherapy: The Science Behind the Art. San Francisco: Harper Collins
Solomon, Andrew (2001). The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression. New York: Simon and Schuster
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Monday, September 17, 2018
Times To Act
I am impressed at the way, in my recent learning of Silent Illumination method, I am no longer thinking of it as a passive practice which involves only sitting and "observing". In act, Silent Illumination offers many affordances for activity. Why or how so? Rather than being a method of focusing on a simple object of awareness, this method encompasses real action, because it is responding to continuous changes. If I am not sticking to my thoughts all the time, I have much more space to do things productively, perhaps not getting so stuck on different meanings I assign to things. In that sense, as long as I am doing things that are benefittng others, then there is no reason for regret.
But this "doing" is a bit tricky, isn't it? It's tricky because in today's world, there is a tendency to equate doing with speed, with results, with doing things quicker and walking faster than those around us. When I equate doing with quantity, I have a tendency to let go of the silent aspect of Silent Illumination, and then doing becomes a way to block contemplation. One can also do by non-doing. How so, you might wonder? When I choose to refrain from doing something that is harmful to myself or others, then this non-doing is a form of doing. It's often the case that we equate doing with something tangible, but mindful non-doing is also a kind of clear doing.
Knowing what kinds of "doing" to engage is central to the Silent Illumination practice. When I am clear, the two terms, do and not do, are just coming from the same principle and energy, so there is not even a need to prefer one over the other. Even one's mistakes or failures, when seen from the perspective of mirror mind, are not obstacles to peaceful being. This is because I am not attaching a tangible identity to what I do or don't do.
But this "doing" is a bit tricky, isn't it? It's tricky because in today's world, there is a tendency to equate doing with speed, with results, with doing things quicker and walking faster than those around us. When I equate doing with quantity, I have a tendency to let go of the silent aspect of Silent Illumination, and then doing becomes a way to block contemplation. One can also do by non-doing. How so, you might wonder? When I choose to refrain from doing something that is harmful to myself or others, then this non-doing is a form of doing. It's often the case that we equate doing with something tangible, but mindful non-doing is also a kind of clear doing.
Knowing what kinds of "doing" to engage is central to the Silent Illumination practice. When I am clear, the two terms, do and not do, are just coming from the same principle and energy, so there is not even a need to prefer one over the other. Even one's mistakes or failures, when seen from the perspective of mirror mind, are not obstacles to peaceful being. This is because I am not attaching a tangible identity to what I do or don't do.
Sunday, September 16, 2018
not labelling
In practicing silent illumination, it seems easy to get
caught up in a tendency to label the situations and emotions around us, since
emotions are tied into cultural and historical narratives. If I am educated in
a Freudian psychoanalysis, I will label my emotional complexes differently
from, say, a behaviorist psychology. Are the labels and explanations we assign
to our experiences actually “real”? They are meant to create insights, but they
don’t necessarily mean that states of mind or emotion are permanent. Sometimes
the tendency to overthink or over-label can create situations where we think
something is real and has to be “dealt with” in some way.
What if we are able to behold our pain without labeling such
a pain? This is an important question. After all, the tendency to label things
often comes from an idea of control. As a person educated in a certain language
and set of cultural theories about how things are, I suffer the anxiety and
fear of losing meaning and losing self if I simply see things
without labeling them. In addition to the anxiety of losing cherished objects
and having to face undesirable ones, I suffer from the fear of having no
narrative or sense of meaning to fall back on if my mind is open and not labeling
anything. I have to admit that this “life without labels” seems like a very
advanced stage in Silent Illumination practice, particularly in daily life. At
best, what I seem capable of is being able to see the totality of my emotions
rather than just getting stuck on one emotion. Rather than obsessing over
narratives about why and how suffering arises, it might be important to see
that suffering in a shifting context of totality.
Saturday, September 15, 2018
Silent Illumination and Contemplation
During the Silent Illumination one day meditation retreat today, Venerable Guo Sheng emphasized the importance of balancing silence and illumination. I find this to be such an impressive metaphor which helps me to understand these two aspects as "wings on a bird". It also helps me to gauge whether I am swinging too far in one direction of "silence" or the other direction of "illumination".
Sometimes the method of Silent Illumination might seem like sitting and just watching one's wandering thoughts. This isn't quite the case: if this approach were as simple as watching thoughts arising, it wouldn't be very much different from what people might normally do when they think or engage in discursive activity. Contemplation, as Guo Sheng Fashi mentioned, is not about thinking of something or treating it as a kind of static object; rather, it is more like a knowing which transcends subject and object. To put it simply, I know that I am breathing without necessarily having to analyze into which lung or part of my body my breath will go. In other words, contemplation is not about analysis, but more a kind of non-grasping knowing.
When people normally engage in thinking, they are trying to grasp and give rise to agitated thoughts. One of the study group participants yesterday remarked that it's the difference between simply seeing a red sweater and then remarking on whether one likes the color red or not, or whether the sweater looks good on the other person. These latter statements are ruminations on what people are seeing, and they lack the simplicity of "just seeing". Similarly, many people go into stories about how they are attracted to one thing and repelled by another, not realizing that these stories come from grasping attitudes, not from things themselves. Even as simple a statement as, "boy, that ice cream looks so good; I want to buy one" is not a statement of objective truth, but more like a kind of reaction that comes from a grasping attitude. My sense of who I am comes from liking the ice cream or disliking the fact that I don't have one yet. What would happen if one were to simply look into the process of craving without spinning into stories about liking ice cream? This is where contemplation is different from analytical thought. Whereas the latter builds upon assumptions about what the self is and where it's located in space and time relative to something else, the former simply sees things as they stand in that moment, without trying to construct some kind of unnecessary bridge between self and other. Contemplation is a kind of knowing but without the need to grasp, define or divide.
Another aspect of Guo Sheng Fashi's talk that impacted me was the idea that Silent Illumination acknowledges all things as parts of a greater totality. This is tricky: it's not about having an idea of "unity" (such as seeing everything as a picture). Rather, it's more about letting go of whatever comes up in mind thus allowing the phenomena to be seen as a part of a changing scene. How one practices this is even trickier, because it's not even about having an idea about totality. Totality itself is an idea that limits what a person can see because it is only one among a multitude of thoughts. The real totality is letting go of all concepts to know what is continually arising in mind at every moment. This is extremely hard to do because my habitual identity is to problematize dislikes (to make them seem like problems to be fixed) and to sentimentalize likes (to embellish desired things). These concepts clutter the mind and create very complicated relationships with things. Letting go of the habitual tendency to grasp, control and direct likes and dislikes is one of the key points about Silent Illumination.
Sometimes the method of Silent Illumination might seem like sitting and just watching one's wandering thoughts. This isn't quite the case: if this approach were as simple as watching thoughts arising, it wouldn't be very much different from what people might normally do when they think or engage in discursive activity. Contemplation, as Guo Sheng Fashi mentioned, is not about thinking of something or treating it as a kind of static object; rather, it is more like a knowing which transcends subject and object. To put it simply, I know that I am breathing without necessarily having to analyze into which lung or part of my body my breath will go. In other words, contemplation is not about analysis, but more a kind of non-grasping knowing.
When people normally engage in thinking, they are trying to grasp and give rise to agitated thoughts. One of the study group participants yesterday remarked that it's the difference between simply seeing a red sweater and then remarking on whether one likes the color red or not, or whether the sweater looks good on the other person. These latter statements are ruminations on what people are seeing, and they lack the simplicity of "just seeing". Similarly, many people go into stories about how they are attracted to one thing and repelled by another, not realizing that these stories come from grasping attitudes, not from things themselves. Even as simple a statement as, "boy, that ice cream looks so good; I want to buy one" is not a statement of objective truth, but more like a kind of reaction that comes from a grasping attitude. My sense of who I am comes from liking the ice cream or disliking the fact that I don't have one yet. What would happen if one were to simply look into the process of craving without spinning into stories about liking ice cream? This is where contemplation is different from analytical thought. Whereas the latter builds upon assumptions about what the self is and where it's located in space and time relative to something else, the former simply sees things as they stand in that moment, without trying to construct some kind of unnecessary bridge between self and other. Contemplation is a kind of knowing but without the need to grasp, define or divide.
Another aspect of Guo Sheng Fashi's talk that impacted me was the idea that Silent Illumination acknowledges all things as parts of a greater totality. This is tricky: it's not about having an idea of "unity" (such as seeing everything as a picture). Rather, it's more about letting go of whatever comes up in mind thus allowing the phenomena to be seen as a part of a changing scene. How one practices this is even trickier, because it's not even about having an idea about totality. Totality itself is an idea that limits what a person can see because it is only one among a multitude of thoughts. The real totality is letting go of all concepts to know what is continually arising in mind at every moment. This is extremely hard to do because my habitual identity is to problematize dislikes (to make them seem like problems to be fixed) and to sentimentalize likes (to embellish desired things). These concepts clutter the mind and create very complicated relationships with things. Letting go of the habitual tendency to grasp, control and direct likes and dislikes is one of the key points about Silent Illumination.
Friday, September 14, 2018
Anxiety and Being Present
Quite often discussion groups are an opportunity to observe when I am using "silence" and "illumination" together. According to Chan teachings, Silent Illumination refers to a kind of combined practice of stilling the mind (samatha) and illuminating what's around us (vipassana). Generally, people are usually on either one side or the other: either they are too silent and reach a state of torpor or too "illuminating" (read: too distracted) of the things around them. When I am attached to my thoughts, I am not practicing silence. However, conversely, if I am attached to emptiness, I am not able to truly illuminate, and I end up being like a log, not really engaging my practice in the world.
Anxiety is a good example of "too much illumination" and not enough stillness. When my mind in discussion groups races around worries about whether I provided good questions for reflection or am contributing to the group, I end up panicking over something that is not at all dangerous. If I start to withdraw from the discussion altogether, I am still in some ways driven by the phenomena. This is much like someone who tries to block sounds by putting on headphones. Even though this person seems serene when there is no sound, they will only be more agitated if they are forced to take off their headphones. This is an example of getting too attached to stillness.
Anxiety can be best dealt with by being mindfully present, both to the anxiety as a sensation and as thoughts coming to mind. The thoughts are like bubbles: one can certainly see those anxious thoughts arising, but is it necessary to attribute the thoughts to an anxious self? A lot of people make the mistake of thinking that because anxiety arises in mind, they are therefore "anxious people", and this makes them give up even the prospect of seeing things calmly or clearly. But this only seems to start an endless cycle of thinking that I am at fault for being anxious. By illuminating the anxiety, I intend to see it for what it is without adding a sense of self to it. This is an important aspect, because if I start to think there is a self who is anxious, I create a story around that anxiety rather than seeing it as an impermanent state, just like others. More "samatha" can calm an over anxious mind, providing it with stability to see anxiety for what it is.
Anxiety is a good example of "too much illumination" and not enough stillness. When my mind in discussion groups races around worries about whether I provided good questions for reflection or am contributing to the group, I end up panicking over something that is not at all dangerous. If I start to withdraw from the discussion altogether, I am still in some ways driven by the phenomena. This is much like someone who tries to block sounds by putting on headphones. Even though this person seems serene when there is no sound, they will only be more agitated if they are forced to take off their headphones. This is an example of getting too attached to stillness.
Anxiety can be best dealt with by being mindfully present, both to the anxiety as a sensation and as thoughts coming to mind. The thoughts are like bubbles: one can certainly see those anxious thoughts arising, but is it necessary to attribute the thoughts to an anxious self? A lot of people make the mistake of thinking that because anxiety arises in mind, they are therefore "anxious people", and this makes them give up even the prospect of seeing things calmly or clearly. But this only seems to start an endless cycle of thinking that I am at fault for being anxious. By illuminating the anxiety, I intend to see it for what it is without adding a sense of self to it. This is an important aspect, because if I start to think there is a self who is anxious, I create a story around that anxiety rather than seeing it as an impermanent state, just like others. More "samatha" can calm an over anxious mind, providing it with stability to see anxiety for what it is.
Wednesday, September 12, 2018
Desire and Suffering
Watching Master Sheng Yen's video tonight on different kinds of grasping, I started to reflect on how all the things that people want in life can (and do) become forms of suffering. How to reverse that? I don't think it's possible for people to deny that they have wants; after all, we are born in human bodies and are thus subject to the kinds of suffering that come from having a body. But it's important to recognize through a kind of awareness when grasping becomes a form of suffering. If I am vying for a special position at work that is given to someone else, I will suffer from that aspiration. If, on the other hand, I decide that I just want to use that position to benefit the company with what I can give, then my orientation is away from the self. I can even feel happy for the person who gets the position, since she or he is more qualified to fulfill the same goals that I want to achieve for others. Of course, this approach is not that easy, but it's worth it to try.
I was particularly moved by Master Sheng Yen's idea that even gaining what a person wants leads to the suffering of having to maintain that want or even developing more "offshoot" wants in response. Two examples I can share; when a person achieves a certain state of physical comfort (such as lying snug in a comforter on a winter day), is it not the case that getting out of that comfort becomes extremely painful? Even the slightest inconvenience of going to the bathroom will jar on the person who is snug in bed! The other example I will share is that of a person who gets a promotion at work. Although this person might begin with a sense of joy, later they might start to believe that they can or should be able to achieve even higher or greater results. Gone is the sense that any achievement is going to have difficulty and uncertainty. A person who is always succeeding in gaining approval from their peers or bosses risks losing the sense of uncertainty and struggle that always accompanies fulfilling one's goals. It's as though one expects to succeed at anything they do without any such accompanying struggle...and this is a form of suffering even greater than the struggle itself! Think about it: if I am struggling to win a sport, at least I am buffered from loss by the awareness that it's a struggle, and there is always going to be a loser in the game. If on the other hand, I am under a belief that this goal should not have to take a lot of work from me, then I am succumbing to a temptation to expect results without even putting any effort into it. I believe that this is a form of suffering which overlooks the role of difficulty in everything one strives to do
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnRm4hiAVwE
I was particularly moved by Master Sheng Yen's idea that even gaining what a person wants leads to the suffering of having to maintain that want or even developing more "offshoot" wants in response. Two examples I can share; when a person achieves a certain state of physical comfort (such as lying snug in a comforter on a winter day), is it not the case that getting out of that comfort becomes extremely painful? Even the slightest inconvenience of going to the bathroom will jar on the person who is snug in bed! The other example I will share is that of a person who gets a promotion at work. Although this person might begin with a sense of joy, later they might start to believe that they can or should be able to achieve even higher or greater results. Gone is the sense that any achievement is going to have difficulty and uncertainty. A person who is always succeeding in gaining approval from their peers or bosses risks losing the sense of uncertainty and struggle that always accompanies fulfilling one's goals. It's as though one expects to succeed at anything they do without any such accompanying struggle...and this is a form of suffering even greater than the struggle itself! Think about it: if I am struggling to win a sport, at least I am buffered from loss by the awareness that it's a struggle, and there is always going to be a loser in the game. If on the other hand, I am under a belief that this goal should not have to take a lot of work from me, then I am succumbing to a temptation to expect results without even putting any effort into it. I believe that this is a form of suffering which overlooks the role of difficulty in everything one strives to do
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnRm4hiAVwE
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
no regretful thinking
Sometimes we have to learn from our mistakes. I notice that when I am at work, I often learn a lot of valuable lessons simply in the process of being with very talented people, and I can only be humble to them. It is also a good reminder that we are always in the process of becoming based on the people with whom we associate. It is more of an honor to be with them, and it helps to see it in a positive way that one can always learn from others.
From this perspective, however, there is no such thing as a final resting point where I can say that my learning is finished. Nor can I even say "I did everything I could". However, it's important not to get into the mental trap of "if only I didn't do so and so, then this would not have happened." The reality is that it did happen (whatever it is), and note the emphasis on the past tense. The fact that it did happen means that it can't be reversed. This is so important, because a lot of times, regret is based on a fantasy that one could reverse something that happened the way it did for significant reasons.
After all, if something doesn't happen for a reason then there would not be any sufficient means for it to happen. But if there are sufficient conditions, then of course, it will start to emerge. It's important to go back and wonder with curiosity and exploration why the thing happened as it did, but not to do so with a sense of regret. Regret doesn't help very much, because again it's based on the false notion that we can reverse time. In reality, time cannot be reversed, and we often aren't even aware of the consequences of certain actions until they arise.
Can we learn from our past? Yes, I believe so, but in this entry I am emphasizing the importance of doing so with the right attitude. Feeling painful about what has happened is only going to make matters more depressing, since it is not coming from a place of really accepting what has happened with all its complex reasons. In exploring such reasons, we learn to let go of the need for a perfect past. Things happened for complicated reasons that are often beyond our imagination or thinking at the time.
From this perspective, however, there is no such thing as a final resting point where I can say that my learning is finished. Nor can I even say "I did everything I could". However, it's important not to get into the mental trap of "if only I didn't do so and so, then this would not have happened." The reality is that it did happen (whatever it is), and note the emphasis on the past tense. The fact that it did happen means that it can't be reversed. This is so important, because a lot of times, regret is based on a fantasy that one could reverse something that happened the way it did for significant reasons.
After all, if something doesn't happen for a reason then there would not be any sufficient means for it to happen. But if there are sufficient conditions, then of course, it will start to emerge. It's important to go back and wonder with curiosity and exploration why the thing happened as it did, but not to do so with a sense of regret. Regret doesn't help very much, because again it's based on the false notion that we can reverse time. In reality, time cannot be reversed, and we often aren't even aware of the consequences of certain actions until they arise.
Can we learn from our past? Yes, I believe so, but in this entry I am emphasizing the importance of doing so with the right attitude. Feeling painful about what has happened is only going to make matters more depressing, since it is not coming from a place of really accepting what has happened with all its complex reasons. In exploring such reasons, we learn to let go of the need for a perfect past. Things happened for complicated reasons that are often beyond our imagination or thinking at the time.
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