BEFORE WE MEDITATE for the first time, we have ideas about
what meditation is, what it does, and where it should lead.
Then when we get our introductory instructions—either
out of a book or magazine, or from a teacher leading a class
or a retreat—we’re hopeful that the instructions
will fulfill our purpose for meditating and that meditation
will do for us what it has reportedly done for others. We look
forward to becoming calmer, to our physical pain diminishing,
and to our emotional stress and turmoil being eased; we anticipate
meditation granting us the peace of mind we so earnestly seek.
We often do not even consider that we could have problems
following the meditation instructions, or that the meditation
instructions may not be the “right” ones for us.
We assume that meditation practices are proven to work for
most anyone, so when we experience frustration with the task
of meditating, we often lay the blame on ourselves. We don’t
see that the meditation practice itself has something to do
with it.
Contemporary Buddhist teachers often instruct that the real
obstacles, or hindrances, in meditation are negative emotional
states or unskillful types of thinking. Unfortunately, this
view only deflects our attention from what actually keeps us
stuck in our practice: the way we do our meditation practice.
In fact, it is not what we experience in meditation that creates
the hindrance, it is how we apply the instructions. Having
negative emotions and discursive thoughts are common meditation
experiences, but they do not control our practice in the same
way the meditation instructions do.
Over the last two decades in which I have been teaching meditation,
I have observed that much of our frustration, struggle, feelings
of failure and low self-esteem as meditators is linked to the
way we have been applying meditation instructions. This is
in part due to the way that we hold on to the correctness of
the instructions and how we adopt rules that prohibit certain
experiences, both of which can create impasses in our meditation
practice. These are two of the most common causes for the experience
of being stuck.
Many of us encounter an impasse when we are trying to figure
out how to do the instructions correctly. The notion that there
is a definitive right way of doing a particular meditation
practice keeps the impasse alive. We assume that if we can
figure out the right way to sit, and just do it, our sittings
will be harmonious.
For example, instructions for watching the breath in the Vipassana
tradition often raise questions about following the instructions
correctly. Is it correct to observe the breath at the nostrils
or the abdomen? If it is correct to observe it at the nostrils,
how are you supposed to observe it—as a sensation of
air passing over your upper lip on the way out and as a sensation
in your nostrils on the way in? Is it okay to follow the breath
into the lungs? And what about the abdomen? Are we noticing
the breath going in or out of our bodies, or are we supposed
to notice the rising and falling of the abdomen only? And why
the abdomen? Don’t we naturally experience our chest
heave and fall as we breathe? What about being aware of the
sound of the breath? That, too, is a part of our experience
of breathing. But Vipassana teachers often tell us that there
is one correct way of observing the breath and that other ways
are not right.
The Vipassana tradition and most other Buddhist traditions
generally discourage doubting the meditation instructions we
are given. We are often told that doubting our teachers and
their traditions is a hindrance to practice, but this puts
us in a bind: If we discover a way to do a meditation practice
that seems more conducive to concentration and wisdom than
the established way, we have to either disregard our discovery
or disobey the instructions. If you take the approach of not
doubting the instructions, you are likely to try to follow
the instructions with more effort in order to make them work
as well as, or better than, the way you discovered on your
own.
But this direction often strengthens obstacles instead of weakening
them. Pushing yourself to follow the instructions more correctly,
and then finding yourself stuck in similar ways, and then trying
harder to follow the directions often just puts you in cycles
of meditative success and failure. As long as you are primarily
focused on doing a practice correctly, you will only examine
the practice through the lens of figuring what you are doing
wrong so that you can stop doing that and just do the practice
in the right way. But what you don’t see is what the practice
is doing to you.
Although we are not often taught this, the most skillful way
through an impasse in meditation is to become aware of it and
of what holds it together and keeps it running. To do this, you
need to keep doing the meditation instructions that have gotten
you to this point, but instead of following them “harder,” try
approaching them in a softer, gentler manner. Do them loosely,
and don’t do them all of the time. Instead, try doing them
when it is easy to do them, or, when you feel you need to. But
also be willing not to do them every single time you feel the
need.
By adding flexibility and choice to a meditation practice that
has become rigid and restrictive, we move our attention away
from a narrow focus on doing the instructions correctly to a
broader awareness of how we are doing the instructions. We discover
that sometimes we are using the instructions to get to some desired
or anticipated meditative state and other times we are using
them to avoid certain feelings, memories, or thoughts. Then there
are those times when we would otherwise feel lost and confused
in our meditation sittings and need the instructions as an anchor.
There are many ways we have held onto the instructions we have
received, so by giving more space around them and giving ourselves
permission not to follow them, we can begin to see what they
are actually doing for us.
AS WE LEARN TO WORK skillfully with the instructions instead
of resolutely pushing ourselves to follow the instructions as
correctly as possible, we will begin to see the other most common
cause for impasses: adopting rules that prohibit certain experiences.
On a basic level, meditation instructions are rules you should
follow during meditation. If they don’t start out as rules,
they eventually turn into rules. A simple instruction to bring
your attention back to the breath when the mind wanders becomes
a rule prohibiting thinking, reminiscing, planning, drifting,
contemplating, and so on. Even if a teacher then states that
you should practice greater acceptance of the wandering mind
and only gently bring your attention back to the breath, the
rule prohibiting mind-wandering still remains intact. The way
we tend to relate to contradictory meditation instructions (which
is what “Bring your attention back to the breath” and “Have
greater acceptance of the wandering mind” are) is to resolve
the contradiction in favor of the rule that clearly exhibits
the fundamental principle of the meditation practice: to train
one’s attention to stay with the breath.
The kinds of impasses we get into when we meditate according
to a system of rules are those based on controlling and dominating
our experiences. We have a rule about not drifting off in meditation,
and so we work to stop ourselves from doing so. We have a rule
about not rehashing the conversations and events of the day,
so we try to get through those segments of our sittings and on
to something more “meditative.” We have a rule to
sit with our backs straight, and so we correct our posture each
time it slumps. We have rules about not fantasizing or planning
or ruminating or working on projects, and so we devalue or disregard
those experiences.
I suggest you become aware of the rules in your meditation practice,
and not just try to stop them, for that would just be creating
a rule not to have rules. You will have rules in your meditation
practice, but they need to be ones that serve you rather than
oppress you. The rules need to be open to questioning, to reassessment,
and to further refinement. Global rules, where you have to do
the same thing in all instances, are not as helpful as rules
that have specific contexts in which they are used. For example,
a rule to “always stop one’s mind from wandering” is
not as helpful as a rule to “disengage from planning the
execution of a harmful action” (such as seeking revenge).
Are there meditation instructions that don’t foster the
exclusion of experiences? Even when a meditation practice is
presented as accepting of everything, as open to the full range
of one’s experience, there are still experiences—such
as drifting off or having mundane thoughts—that tend to
be excluded. It might be quite a revolution in our thinking about
meditation to consider including all types of experiences in
our regular sittings. If you are going to include the various
experiences of thinking, you may find yourself thinking quite
a bit more than your comfort level. If you include drowsiness
and dull mind states, you may find yourself falling asleep. “How
would this be meditating?” you might ask.
There is a middle way here between the extremes of rigidity
and passivity, one that offers a more legitimate form of meditation.
The beginning instructions I have given for nearly two decades
provide just enough of a grounding in the seated body for the
meditator to develop a capacity to be with thoughts, feelings,
and sensations as they arise. These suggestions are loose and
open, but you can make them tighter if you need to. The instructions
are as follows:
Sit in a comfortable position, one that you would not need to
change duringthe sitting. If you do need to change your position,
do so slowly and consciously. You may also lie down, but try
to adopt a position that you would not normally sleep in.
Bring your attention to the touch of your hands resting in your
lap or on your thighs. But do not try to hold your attention
there. Allow thoughts, feelings, and sensations to arise, and
let your attention go with them.
If your attention leaves the touch of the hands for a long period
of time (several minutes), you can gently bring your attention
back. Otherwise, just sit with what comes up. If you encounter
an experience that is hard to tolerate, after a while of being
with it you can bring your attention back to the touch of the
hands. But only hold it there long enough to feel grounded or
relaxed, and then, if your mind goes into that kind of experience
again, just let it.
People have made rules out of these instructions, and you might
too. That is fine. At some point, hopefully, you will become
aware of those rules. But, for now, it is enough to know that
there is no way to do this wrong, as it is not about following
an instruction as much as about allowing your experiences to
unfold. Seeing for yourself, from your own experience, what works
and what doesn’t is what meditation is all about. |
