During tonight's meditation session, we explored Shifu's Dharma talk in which he explored the nature of awareness in meditative practice. Many times, people do reflect that meditation is about being aware; for example, one speaks of "being aware that one is angry". However, is it so simple as simply knowing one is angry, or does awareness entail something more than just "knowing"?
I think that awareness is more than simply knowing. For example, knowing that I am feeling a certain way does not give me the proper space and realization to know that this feeling is temporary and based on salient factors. When I am truly clear about anger, it is no longer seen as the function of a discrete self , but the more complex interplay of conditions. Awareness requires a mental space to contain these phenomena rather than being simply acted upon.
Participants in the discussion also pointed to the importance of using a method consistently to raise an awareness and insight into emotions as temporary. Without the method, we are not truly aware, but are often simply being swept away in the conditions, thinking that they are permanently a part of us. In this way, consistency in using one's method is such a crucial aspect of awareness.
Wednesday, October 17, 2018
Monday, October 15, 2018
Two Hands
The days are much shorter and I have been thinking how much life is so much like a hurricane or an avalanche. It can be hard at times to keep up with the pace of life. In those moments, one must really cherish the fact that there are only two hands and two feet: to try to go beyond what can be physically done or possible is doing violence to one's body, and in times like that, it's good to set limits.
At the same time, taking on different responsibilities can be an adventure, so long as one is not so invested in gaining from it that they feel pressured to succeed all the time. Getting enmeshed in the idea of having to be successful can lead to all sorts of resentments and disappointments, so it can be helpful to slow down and allow oneself to consider whether it's a life death situation if one does not always succeed.
If you are not sure where you are going, just look at what your two hands can hold and what direction your two feet are pointing. Beyond that, is there anything to know?
At the same time, taking on different responsibilities can be an adventure, so long as one is not so invested in gaining from it that they feel pressured to succeed all the time. Getting enmeshed in the idea of having to be successful can lead to all sorts of resentments and disappointments, so it can be helpful to slow down and allow oneself to consider whether it's a life death situation if one does not always succeed.
If you are not sure where you are going, just look at what your two hands can hold and what direction your two feet are pointing. Beyond that, is there anything to know?
Sunday, October 14, 2018
Pressures to Succeed
Even in meditative settings, it's surprising to learn that there is a pressure to "succeed" or to progress in meditation in ways that feel authentically like a series of stages. I have been learning recently how meditation unearth's unconscious "success" scripts, or the ways that we believe we are progressing in anything--not just a spiritual practice but in life generally. In all of our group practices, we have tried to emphasize the importance of awareness without force: a need to simply know what's happening in mind while seeing that they are about as insubstantial as clouds. Even the most pervasive dream (or nightmare) that comes to mind is fleeting and circumstantial: it comes from the exigencies of the moment, rather than being a permanent fixture in one's personality. Why is one's success or failure in meditative practice based on the relative view of phenomena?
I also try to extend the success mindset to everyday life. Any time we want something, we frame it as an achievement to gain it, a failure to lose it, and dissatisfaction with our present circumstances when it is not attained now. These three dynamics create desire, aversion and ignorance (the three kleshas). In the state of craving, one imagines that the desired state will bring lasting happiness, so one starts to crave it. In the state of aversion, I don't want to lose or see myself as someone who is striving for success yet humiliated by circumstances. With "ignorance" comes the ingratitude I show toward the things that are in front of me: when I am focused on one way of being, I am not able to see what's in front of me.
This model also suggests that every desire creates a subtle subjectivity: a sense of someone being either a success, a failure, or a "nobody". I found that it's important to be aware of what subject emerges from desire. I have noticed that when I am able to accept the fact that my identity is not equipped to always succeed (ie I have both strengths and failings), I have found that I am less anxious about success or acquiring things I want. Why is that? It's because every desire has a hidden narrative of worth or lack of worth. It is as though I have been pressured to always succeed in living up to what I want, by earning it, or by proving myself worthy of it. But what would happen if I totally accepted the fact that I cannot always succeed: that success is relative not just to my current capacities but also to the circumstances of the moment? This creates a more realistic space for me to reflect on my wants without internalizing a sense of failure. It would sometimes be helpful for me to even practice imagining being rejected or proven ineligible for things I want (such as earning a degree) as a way of critically reflecting on whether this rejection is really going to "kill" me, or even affects me fundamentally. Reflecting this way might mitigate the anxieties that are often associated with wants, and might also get people to reflect on the difference between want and need.
I also try to extend the success mindset to everyday life. Any time we want something, we frame it as an achievement to gain it, a failure to lose it, and dissatisfaction with our present circumstances when it is not attained now. These three dynamics create desire, aversion and ignorance (the three kleshas). In the state of craving, one imagines that the desired state will bring lasting happiness, so one starts to crave it. In the state of aversion, I don't want to lose or see myself as someone who is striving for success yet humiliated by circumstances. With "ignorance" comes the ingratitude I show toward the things that are in front of me: when I am focused on one way of being, I am not able to see what's in front of me.
This model also suggests that every desire creates a subtle subjectivity: a sense of someone being either a success, a failure, or a "nobody". I found that it's important to be aware of what subject emerges from desire. I have noticed that when I am able to accept the fact that my identity is not equipped to always succeed (ie I have both strengths and failings), I have found that I am less anxious about success or acquiring things I want. Why is that? It's because every desire has a hidden narrative of worth or lack of worth. It is as though I have been pressured to always succeed in living up to what I want, by earning it, or by proving myself worthy of it. But what would happen if I totally accepted the fact that I cannot always succeed: that success is relative not just to my current capacities but also to the circumstances of the moment? This creates a more realistic space for me to reflect on my wants without internalizing a sense of failure. It would sometimes be helpful for me to even practice imagining being rejected or proven ineligible for things I want (such as earning a degree) as a way of critically reflecting on whether this rejection is really going to "kill" me, or even affects me fundamentally. Reflecting this way might mitigate the anxieties that are often associated with wants, and might also get people to reflect on the difference between want and need.
Saturday, October 13, 2018
Torturer and Tortured: It All the Mind
We continue to be both our "torturers" and our "tortured". I was reflecting on this idea after the one day meditation retreat today. It's a little bit of an unusual theme, I admit, but I am looking at it both from a Buddhist and a Christian perspective. From the Buddhist point of view, both "torturer" and "tortured" are really just the same mind going through different role plays. One minute, I take the side of the one who is "hating me", while the other is defending "me" to the death. We have all heard about what's called the "inner critic" but have we ever stopped to think that when someone criticizes or insults us, it is really ourselves "taking on" and internalizing the role of the other?
From a Christian perspective, I would have to argue that the reason we experience situations where we are deeply hurt or wounded by others, is to awaken compassion within. Quite simply put: nobody is a rock or an island unto him or herself, and the trying times we experience with others are really invitations and opportunities for the heart to reach out to one who has been disowned, mistreated or simply left in the margins...simply because we are none other than that person. Conversely, we have also experienced moments in our lives when our actions have hurt other beings---when, whether we intended to or not, we too were the "torturers". This is not about feeling ashamed about this, but about understanding that the hurting of others often comes from a place of either not knowing what others need or simply being narrowly constricted by one layer of thought. For example, I might subscribe to the view that everyone should "take care of themselves" and anyone who can't is just a "freeloader". But this view does not come from an accurate assessment of people's vulnerability in stressful situations (such as poverty) but from a need to protect oneself from the bitter truths of suffering and one's own vulnerability. When I know that the torturer is only acting from a wish to avoid harm to themselves, I am able to see their humanity as well, and forgiveness is possible when I know that in their own way, they are simply trying their best.
Again, these situations are about opening up to what is and knowing that there are deep meanings behind these difficulties which are ultimately meant for the good of one's soul, even though they feel painful at the time. I think this is one way to handle situations where a person feels deeply disconnected from others.
From a Christian perspective, I would have to argue that the reason we experience situations where we are deeply hurt or wounded by others, is to awaken compassion within. Quite simply put: nobody is a rock or an island unto him or herself, and the trying times we experience with others are really invitations and opportunities for the heart to reach out to one who has been disowned, mistreated or simply left in the margins...simply because we are none other than that person. Conversely, we have also experienced moments in our lives when our actions have hurt other beings---when, whether we intended to or not, we too were the "torturers". This is not about feeling ashamed about this, but about understanding that the hurting of others often comes from a place of either not knowing what others need or simply being narrowly constricted by one layer of thought. For example, I might subscribe to the view that everyone should "take care of themselves" and anyone who can't is just a "freeloader". But this view does not come from an accurate assessment of people's vulnerability in stressful situations (such as poverty) but from a need to protect oneself from the bitter truths of suffering and one's own vulnerability. When I know that the torturer is only acting from a wish to avoid harm to themselves, I am able to see their humanity as well, and forgiveness is possible when I know that in their own way, they are simply trying their best.
Again, these situations are about opening up to what is and knowing that there are deep meanings behind these difficulties which are ultimately meant for the good of one's soul, even though they feel painful at the time. I think this is one way to handle situations where a person feels deeply disconnected from others.
Friday, October 12, 2018
Discussing Silent Illumination in Daily Life
During our study group discussion tonight, we talked about the way that too much Illumination in Silent Illumination practice can lead to a discriminating mind, whereas too much Silence does the opposite:it can lead to a kind of mental torpor. One of the participants in the group made the interesting observation that rather than trying to "balance" these two sides of the practice, it's best to perhaps observe one's reactions, not judging the self as it's unfolding its reactions to life, but sort of just seeing how reactions arise with a sense of humor.
I have found that recently, I have swung in the direction of silence in my practice, because I am often afraid of judgments or thoughts that arise in my mind. But the whole point of practice is not to "judge" one's "judgments", but to rather be clear that those judgments are not truly one's essence. To not judge judgment itself is perhaps a more realistic process, where we are neither aligning with the Illumination of judgment or the silence of "not judging".
The point is that if I am really in the present moment, I need not fear that my thoughts will take me away from this moment. All I need fear is attaching thoughts or trying to form complex narratives from them. When I get lost in chains of thought, I am essentially creating karma from that attachment, and I become both creator and actor in a personal drama.
I have found that recently, I have swung in the direction of silence in my practice, because I am often afraid of judgments or thoughts that arise in my mind. But the whole point of practice is not to "judge" one's "judgments", but to rather be clear that those judgments are not truly one's essence. To not judge judgment itself is perhaps a more realistic process, where we are neither aligning with the Illumination of judgment or the silence of "not judging".
The point is that if I am really in the present moment, I need not fear that my thoughts will take me away from this moment. All I need fear is attaching thoughts or trying to form complex narratives from them. When I get lost in chains of thought, I am essentially creating karma from that attachment, and I become both creator and actor in a personal drama.
Thursday, October 11, 2018
Finger Traps
Today is my birthday, and I am reflecting on what kinds of things I have learned in the past. There is an idea that I picked up from an old Philip K. Dick novel (it was probably Valis) and it is something to do with the Chinese finger trap: the more you struggle to resolve the dilemma, the more crushing and confining the trap is on one's finger. Some might attribute this to be a form of karma, but they might be missing the point of why the trap is designed in such a way that one emerges from it only by letting go of the idea of a problem to be resolved or fixed.
A lot of people might even approach contemplative practices very similar to the "finger trap": they frame meditation as the potential solution to all their problems, and even approach meditative practice in the way that one consults an oracle at Delphi. In other words, we have a tendency to regard the value of meditation as lying in a kind of "solving of riddles". But in my own experience I have found, to the contrary, that the value of meditation lies in that little cubby space between the bookshelf and the wall, where a book or magazine accidentally becomes wedged. In dislodging the awareness from attachment to thoughts, we find ourselves simply in the middle of the mess, of the displacement, and yet we are able to authentically be and rejoice in those in between spaces. In that way, there is no longer any sense in resisting or struggling. Even the idea that this is "Making It" or a kind of accomplishment also needs to be let go of.
To "solve" the finger trap is to stop seeing it as a trap in the first place.
A lot of people might even approach contemplative practices very similar to the "finger trap": they frame meditation as the potential solution to all their problems, and even approach meditative practice in the way that one consults an oracle at Delphi. In other words, we have a tendency to regard the value of meditation as lying in a kind of "solving of riddles". But in my own experience I have found, to the contrary, that the value of meditation lies in that little cubby space between the bookshelf and the wall, where a book or magazine accidentally becomes wedged. In dislodging the awareness from attachment to thoughts, we find ourselves simply in the middle of the mess, of the displacement, and yet we are able to authentically be and rejoice in those in between spaces. In that way, there is no longer any sense in resisting or struggling. Even the idea that this is "Making It" or a kind of accomplishment also needs to be let go of.
To "solve" the finger trap is to stop seeing it as a trap in the first place.
Wednesday, October 10, 2018
Finding Community
I unfortunately had to miss the evening meditation tonight due to some errands I had to run and school work that was pressing. I have found that my heart feels so heavy when I cannot be with the group, and such a feeling makes me realize how important it has been to have an accepting group of people in one's life as a spiritual life support.
I have rarely talked about community in my blog, perhaps because my concern has been developing self-compassion and self-awareness to function well in communities. But I do believe that when there is a community that is supportive of you, and you are given the opportunity to be a contributor to that community in turn, your mental and spiritual health is nurtured. I also believe that possibilities open up only when people can open their hearts to communities of some sort or another.
When I talk about community, however, I don't mean that one needs to force themselves to be extroverted or the same as everyone else. This form of community is actually just an extended peer pressure. I am more interested in community that shares a common spiritual vision and acts on that vision, particularly through shared texts, meditations and reflections. There really needs to be a psychic space there for people to bring their whole personality, being and mind into the moment of coming together, rather than bringing out fragments here and there. In this way, communities that allow people to bring themselves to the present are most inspiring and nurturing to me.
It's also important that communities operate from an attitude that everyone has something to contribute to the whole. A community that only values a few people's talents does very little to expand outward and embrace others at their own stages in life. Even when people's spirits are broken in some way, those broken shards are beautiful crystals: they are gifts waiting to grace others' life with the wisdom that can come from enduring hardships.
These are a few isolated thoughts on community which I would like to expand on in future entries.
I have rarely talked about community in my blog, perhaps because my concern has been developing self-compassion and self-awareness to function well in communities. But I do believe that when there is a community that is supportive of you, and you are given the opportunity to be a contributor to that community in turn, your mental and spiritual health is nurtured. I also believe that possibilities open up only when people can open their hearts to communities of some sort or another.
When I talk about community, however, I don't mean that one needs to force themselves to be extroverted or the same as everyone else. This form of community is actually just an extended peer pressure. I am more interested in community that shares a common spiritual vision and acts on that vision, particularly through shared texts, meditations and reflections. There really needs to be a psychic space there for people to bring their whole personality, being and mind into the moment of coming together, rather than bringing out fragments here and there. In this way, communities that allow people to bring themselves to the present are most inspiring and nurturing to me.
It's also important that communities operate from an attitude that everyone has something to contribute to the whole. A community that only values a few people's talents does very little to expand outward and embrace others at their own stages in life. Even when people's spirits are broken in some way, those broken shards are beautiful crystals: they are gifts waiting to grace others' life with the wisdom that can come from enduring hardships.
These are a few isolated thoughts on community which I would like to expand on in future entries.
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