Showing posts with label feldman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feldman. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 19, 2025

Making a Joyful Effort - Christina Feldman

Christina Feldman

https://www.buddhistinquiry.org/article/making-a-joyful-effort/

"How is our mind shaping our participation in life?" ~ Shelly Graf

...being able to lean into the power of choice, and recognizing our powerlessness when facing our craving. ~ Christina Feldman

Friday, February 16, 2024

Silencing the Inner Critic - Christina Feldman

 

Silencing the Inner Critic

The nagging, negative voice of self-judgement, says Christina Feldman, is a powerful affliction best met with courage, kindness, and understanding.     CHRISTINA FELDMAN12 JANUARY 2018



Unruly beings are like space. 
There’s not enough time to overcome them.
Overcoming these angry thoughts.
Is like defeating all of our enemies.
—Shantideva

The Buddha sat beneath the Bodhi tree on the eve of his enlightenment and was assailed by Mara, representing all of the afflictions we meet in the landscape of our minds: worry and restlessness, dullness and resistance, craving, aversion, and doubt. The one affliction that did not make an appearance in this story is the powerful voice of the inner critic—the inner judge that can torment us on a daily basis, undermining our well-being and distorting our relationship with life. The inner critic is the voice of shame, blame, belittlement, aversion, and contempt. To many of us, it is so familiar that it seems almost hardwired into our hearts.

Before exploring the nature of the judgmental mind, it is essential to mark the distinction between the voice of the inner critic and our capacity for discernment and discriminating wisdom. Discriminating wisdom is what brings us to our cushion to meditate and inspires us to act in ways that bring suffering and harm to an end. Discriminating wisdom is the source of every wise act and word. Discernment draws upon ethics, compassion, and wisdom and teaches us moment by moment to discover the Buddha in ourselves and in others.

The judging mind is optional; it can be understood and released.

The inner critic is a creature of a different nature. With the inner critic, we may still come to our cushion but we come accompanied by a story that tells us we are unworthy or inadequate. With the inner critic, we still act, speak, and make choices, yet moment by moment we feel endlessly criticized, compared, and belittled. The judgmental mind draws not upon all that is wise but upon Mara, the patterns of aversion, doubt, ill will, and fear. Rarely is the judgmental heart the source of wise action or speech, nor does it lead to the end of suffering. The judgmental mind is suffering and compounds suffering. It suffocates ethics, the guidelines of kindness and care, and it wounds our hearts and lives.

Discriminating wisdom is essential and must be cultivated. The judging mind is optional; it can be understood and released. Thomas Merton, the great Christian mystic described the essence of the spiritual path as a search for truth that springs from love. Beneath the Bodhi tree, Mara’s power over Siddhartha ended the moment he was able to look Mara in the eye and simply say, “I know you.” These few words were a reflection of a profound shift in Siddhartha’s heart: the shift from being intimidated and overpowered by Mara to having the courage to open a dialogue of understanding with Mara, and bringing intimidation to an end.

The judgmental mind that causes so much pain in our lives cannot be exempted from our practice. The judgmental mind needs to be met with the same courage and investigation we bring to any other afflictive emotion. The judgmental mind does not respond well to suppression, avoidance, or aversion. It needs kindness and understanding. The late Jiyu-Kennett Roshi, a Zen teacher, said the training of liberation begins with compassion for the self, and that cultivating a non-judgmental mind toward ourselves is the key to a genuine compassion for all beings.

We begin this process by asking what a non-judgmental mind looks like, and what it means to be free of the burden of the inner critic. To understand these questions experientially, we need to turn our attention to the judgmental mind and embrace its pain with the same mindfulness we would bring to a pain in our body or to another’s sorrow.

The essence of mindfulness is to see, to understand, and to find freedom within everything that feels intractable and clouded by confusion. Mindfulness is a present-moment experience, concerned with embracing and understanding the entirety of each moment with tenderness, warmth, and interest. In the light of this engaged attention, we discover it is impossible to hate or fear anything we truly understand, including the judgmental mind. We begin to see that the greatest barrier to compassion and freedom is not the pain or adversity we meet in our lives but the ongoing tendency to criticize and fear the simple truths of the moment. Instead of just wanting the judgmental mind to go away, we could begin to ask what it is teaching us. Abhirupa Nanda, a nun from the time of the Buddha, suggested meditating on the unconditioned. Liberate the tendency to judge yourself as being above, below, or the same as others. By penetrating deeply into judgment, you will live at peace.

Looking closely at the judgmental mind, we see that it is rarely truthful or able to see the whole of anything.

Although it may seem so, we were not born with a judgmental, aversive mind. It is a learned way of seeing and relating, and it can be unlearned. Looking closely at the judgmental mind, we see that it is rarely truthful or able to see the whole of anything. Instead, the judgmental mind is governed by seizing upon the particulars of ourselves and others and mistaking those particulars for the truth. A friend neglects to return a phone call, and this triggers a cascade of anxious thinking that convinces us they are an indifferent person or we are unworthy of their attention. We arrive late for an appointment and in moments the inner critic determines we are a mindless failure. The practice of meditation, of discovering what is true, suggests there is another path that can be followed.

In the Sufi tradition it is suggested that our thoughts should pass through three gates. At the first gate, we ask of our thought, “Is it true?” If so, we let the thought pass through to the second gate, where we ask, “Is it necessary or useful?” If this also is so, we let the thought continue on its way to the third gate, where we ask, “Is this thought rooted in love and kindness?” Judgmental thoughts, which are neither true, helpful, nor kind, falter at the gates.

Students often wonder why the judgmental mind does not appear in the traditional list of afflictions that Siddhartha met under the Bodhi tree. Perhaps it is because the judgmental mind is not one affliction or hindrance but a compounded hindrance. If you explore just one moment during which the inner critic is operating, you sense how the winds of all of the hindrances flow through it. There is craving, which takes form in the expectations and ideals we hold for ourselves and others. There is restlessness and worry — the shoulds and expectations generating endless thought and emotion as we struggle to avoid imperfection. And there is aversion and ill will, directed toward ourselves and others when our shoulds and expectations are disappointed. Doubt makes a powerful appearance too—doubt in our worthiness, goodness, and capacity. Then there is the affliction of dullness, which makes a disguised appearance in the form of despair, resignation, and numbness.

Holding all of these afflictions together are the beliefs we have regarding who we are and who we are not, which continually fuel the afflictive emotions. But the path of awakening invites us to understand this compound of the inner critic, to learn how to loosen its hold and power, and to rediscover all that is true within ourselves and others. The path invites us to extend kindness, rather than harshness, to ourselves and all beings and to learn to see a thought as a thought, rather than as a description of reality. On the path, we can begin to see that self-judgment or judgment of another is no more than a thought that is laden with ill will and aversion. There is a profound liberation in knowing this so deeply that we can let go of ill will.

Nurturing our capacity to be mindful and present is the first step to understanding and disempowering the identity and power of the inner critic.

The Buddha taught that what we dwell upon becomes the shape of our mind. If we dwell on ill will, directed outwardly or inwardly in the form of blame, disparagement, or aversion, it will become the shape of our mind until all that we see is that which is broken, flawed, imperfect, and impossible. In India there is a saying that when a pickpocket meets a saint in the marketplace, all he sees are the saint’s pockets. Habit and awareness do not co-exist. Nurturing our capacity to be mindful and present is the first step to understanding and disempowering the identity and power of the inner critic.

We can learn to pause and to listen deeply to the voice of the inner judge, with its endless symphony of blame and shame, and we can surround it with the kindness of mindfulness. We can investigate the truth of its story. We can begin to sense that the inner critic truly warrants compassion, as does any suffering and affliction. Instead of fleeing the painfulness of the judgmental mind we can turn toward it, sensing that everything we are invited to understand in the journey of awakening can be understood within the judgmental mind. Letting go, compassion, the emptiness of self, equanimity, and wisdom are the lessons we are invited to explore with this most powerful of afflictions. The alchemy of mindfulness is to nurture a sense of possibility. We are encouraged to imagine a life free from ill will, blame, and shame. To imagine a life and a heart of compassion, wisdom, and peace.

Christina Feldman

CHRISTINA FELDMAN

Christina Feldman is the author of Compassion: Listening to the Cries of the World. She is cofounder and a guiding teacher at Gaia House, a Buddhist meditation center in Devon, England, and a senior teacher at the Insight Meditation Society in Barre, Massachusetts.


Sunday, November 19, 2023

Hugh Byrne - Nov 19, 2023 - on Equanimity


Being equanimous in the midst of small things: a balanced way with the small things at first.
Training the mind to be equanimous in the face of the 8 worldly winds...we can train the mind. 
The Zen farmer story: --> Bad luck, Good luck? who knows? said the farmer

Foundation for equanimity is 'wisdom'...seeing what causes clinging...letting go of clinging...then we will naturally find ease...we will find our way to equanimity, find our way to ease

3 marks of existence:  anicca, impermanence, dukkha: unsatisfactoriness, and anatta: non-self
Impermanence - all conditions of our lives come and go..empires come and go 
  • Seeing these truths on personal, and celestial levels...helps bring us to Equanimity
  • Holding on to things, we suffer...nothing can be held on to. nothing can provide 'satisfactoriness'
    • don't cling ...if so, we suffer. like water we can't hold on to anything
    • we can find ease knowing that everything comes and goes. 
    • enjoy life without clinging.. 'welcoming the guests'... no matter the guest
    • Blake's 'Eternity' poem ...he who binds to himself as a joy as it flies, does the winged life destroy, but he who kisses the joy as it flies lives in eternity's sunrise.
  • Enjoy what we can ...being in a fluid relationship with life...we can be happy. amidst the ups and downs.
  • Anicca: we are always changing...the way we live our lives is always changing.
Near enemy of lovingkindness: is attachment, love w/ a clinging quality

Near enemy of Equanimity: is indifference...a pushing away of suffering, of life..  aka 'spiritual bypassing' ..avoiding painful feelings, wounds we haven't addressed.  we can use meditation as a route to spiritual bypassing.  

** We will enjoy not a deep calm from meditation if we are  not opening to our suffering. The invitation is to let everything in ** ...Equanimity is fully opening to our experience. Expand the window of tolerance....opening to all our experience but not clinging. 

TS Eliott: 'Ash Wednesday': Teach us to care and not to care, teach us to sit still. ie,'Not caring' means to find a way to process our experience without the holding, the clinging. 

Resting in the middleness, seeing the balance...the successes, the failures. all 8 winds will arise in our minds. How do I deal w/ the ups and downs...Can I find peace in the midst of it all? This is a quality I can devleop. We can train our minds in this way. It's not a 'one and done' ...we have to practice. 

PRACTICE with whatever is present, s/ judgement, w/ acceptance. Including pain, physical 

Focus our attention on equanimity: breathing in, calming the body, breathing  out, calming the mind...may I be balanced, may I  be at peace. Inviting that quality of peace of calm of steadiness, of balance...amidst the ups/downs, arising/passing of everything...emotions, breath, thoughts all come and go. all in its own time...let it come, let it be, let it go. when it's ready to go. 

Wumen-
10,000 flowers in Spring

Ten thousand flowers in Spring, 

the Moon in autumn

by Wu Men Hui-k'ai


English version by Stephen Mitchell
Original Language Chinese

Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter.
If your mind isn't clouded by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life.


Monday, November 13, 2023

Byrne on Nov 12, 2023 - on not setting this against that


Live Session Summary, Sunday, November 12, 2023: It was good to be with you for our Live session. In today’s session we continued the discussion of how the Buddha’s teachings can support us in these difficult times, focusing on the role the Buddha’s heart practices—loving-kindness, compassion, appreciative joy, and equanimity. 

Here are some of the main themes, quotes, and poems I shared:

I began by sharing the simile used in Buddhism of the ‘two wings of the bird’: Just as a bird needs two wings to fly, so our practice requires two wings—the wing of wisdom (awareness, understanding, insight) and the wing of compassion (kindness, care, love, connection). I reviewed briefly our discussion from two weeks ago on the role of practices of awareness (the first ‘wing’) in helping us let go of the clinging and aversion that we can easily be caught up in during these times. I shared these quotes: 

“Wisdom tells me I’m nothing. Love tells me I’m everything. And between the two my life flows.” (Sri Nisargadata, 20th Century Indian spiritual teacher)

“Anything unconscious dissolves when you shine the light of consciousness on it.” (Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now)

“You can always cope with the present moment, but you cannot cope with something that is only a mind projection—you cannot cope with the future.” (Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now)

“All of humanity’s problems stem from man’s inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” (Blaise Pascal, French mathematician and philosopher, 1623-1662)

I highlighted the role that the ‘heart practices’ can play in providing support, particularly when we find ourselves swept up in fear, anger, debilitating grief, powerlessness, despair, self-judgment, guilt, and many other challenging emotions and mind states. The four heart practices are described by Insight meditation teacher Gil Fronsdal as ‘four faces of love’—one overarching quality of kindness and friendliness that takes on different forms depending on the circumstances and conditions we meet. 

We focused on three of the four heart practices—loving-kindness, compassion, and equanimity—as particularly powerful supports for these times. 

At the heart of these teachings is the understanding that these are not qualities that we either have or don’t have, but rather, qualities that we can cultivate through the diligent practice of inclining our mind towards compassion, kindness, and care for all beings. Sharon Salzberg shared this perspective: 

“Love and concern for all are not things some of us are born with and others are not. Rather, they are the results of what we do with our minds: We can choose to transform our minds so that they embody love, or we can allow them to develop habits and false concepts of separation.” (Salzberg, Loving-Kindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness)

Loving-kindness invites us to meet all beings—without exception—with understanding and kindness. Christina Feldman expressed this intention and commitment as “cultivating an attitudinal commitment of friendliness towards all beings and all experience.” (Feldman, Boundless Heart)

Compassion is the quality that arises when an open heart meets suffering. It’s been described as ‘the quivering of the heart in the face of suffering.” Compassion incorporates two central responses: 1) empathy—caring for the suffering of another (or oneself); and 2) the wish to alleviate the suffering. We begin by acknowledging our own or another’s suffering: 

“The first step in developing true compassion is being able to recognize, to open to, and to acknowledge that pain and sorrow exist. Everywhere, absolutely everywhere, in one way or another, beings are suffering.” (Salzberg, Loving Kindness)

“Compassion in its deepest sense is immeasurable. It embraces the most difficult people in our lives, the most brutal people in the world. Compassion is concerned with meeting suffering and uprooting the causes of suffering: the greed, hatred, and confusion that scars the lives and hearts of too many in this world.” (Feldman, Boundless Heart)

We finished by discussing the quality and practice of equanimity, which is the invitation to meet all experience without clinging to what’s pleasant or resisting or pulling away from what is difficult or unpleasant. The Buddha spoke of ‘eight worldly winds’ that are an inevitable part of our human existence:

“Praise and blame, gain and loss, pleasure and pain, success and failure are the eight worldly winds. They ceaselessly change. As a mountain is unshaken by the wind, so the heart of a wise person is steady amidst all the changes on this earth.” (Lokavipatti Sutta: ‘The Failings of the World’)   

I emphasized that equanimity is not indifference to suffering, or aloofness, or not caring. With equanimity, our heart remains open and caring, but without clinging or resistance. T.S. Eliot in his poem ‘Ash Wednesday’ said, “Teach us to care and not to care. Teach us to sit still.” Caring without clinging. 

I shared a quote from ‘The Mind of Absolute Trust’ by the 3rd Zen Patriarch, Tsin Tsin Ming: 

“The Great Way is not difficult 

for those who have no preferences. 

When love and hate are both absent 

everything becomes clear and undisguised. 

Make the smallest distinction, however, 

and heaven and earth are set infinitely apart….

If you wish to see the truth 

then hold no opinions for or against anything. 

To set up what you like against what you dislike 

is the disease of the mind.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

I finished the meditation with the poem ‘School Prayer’ by Diane Ackerman. 

This is a longer summary. I hope the review and quotes are helpful to you. Have a peaceful week and see you next Sunday, November 19 at 9am Eastern. Warmly, Hugh 🙏🏻 💜 🌻

Sunday, March 27, 2022

The four Brahmaviharas - Opening the heart ~ a Training of the heart ~ Hugh Byrne - Mar 27, 2022




Befriending all beings, all experiences..befriending all experiences. ~ Feldman? 

Monday, June 7, 2021

The inner critic - Christina Feldman

 Silencing the Inner Critic

The nagging, negative voice of self-judgement, says Christina Feldman, is a powerful affliction best met with courage, kindness, and understanding.

“The Fight” by Helena Perez García.

Unruly beings are like space.
There’s not enough time to overcome them.
Overcoming these angry thoughts.
Is like defeating all of our enemies.
—Shantideva

The Buddha sat beneath the Bodhi tree on the eve of his enlightenment and was assailed by Mara, representing all of the afflictions we meet in the landscape of our minds: worry and restlessness, dullness and resistance, craving, aversion, and doubt. The one affliction that did not make an appearance in this story is the powerful voice of the inner critic—the inner judge that can torment us on a daily basis, undermining our well-being and distorting our relationship with life. The inner critic is the voice of shame, blame, belittlement, aversion, and contempt. To many of us, it is so familiar that it seems almost hardwired into our hearts.

Before exploring the nature of the judgmental mind, it is essential to mark the distinction between the voice of the inner critic and our capacity for discernment and discriminating wisdom. Discriminating wisdom is what brings us to our cushion to meditate and inspires us to act in ways that bring suffering and harm to an end. Discriminating wisdom is the source of every wise act and word. Discernment draws upon ethics, compassion, and wisdom and teaches us moment by moment to discover the Buddha in ourselves and in others.

The judging mind is optional; it can be understood and released.

The inner critic is a creature of a different nature. With the inner critic, we may still come to our cushion but we come accompanied by a story that tells us we are unworthy or inadequate. With the inner critic, we still act, speak, and make choices, yet moment by moment we feel endlessly criticized, compared, and belittled. The judgmental mind draws not upon all that is wise but upon Mara, the patterns of aversion, doubt, ill will, and fear. Rarely is the judgmental heart the source of wise action or speech, nor does it lead to the end of suffering. The judgmental mind is suffering and compounds suffering. It suffocates ethics, the guidelines of kindness and care, and it wounds our hearts and lives.

Discriminating wisdom is essential and must be cultivated. The judging mind is optional; it can be understood and released. Thomas Merton, the great Christian mystic described the essence of the spiritual path as a search for truth that springs from love. Beneath the Bodhi tree, Mara’s power over Siddhartha ended the moment he was able to look Mara in the eye and simply say, “I know you.” These few words were a reflection of a profound shift in Siddhartha’s heart: the shift from being intimidated and overpowered by Mara to having the courage to open a dialogue of understanding with Mara, and bringing intimidation to an end.

The judgmental mind that causes so much pain in our lives cannot be exempted from our practice. The judgmental mind needs to be met with the same courage and investigation we bring to any other afflictive emotion. The judgmental mind does not respond well to suppression, avoidance, or aversion. It needs kindness and understanding. The late Jiyu-Kennett Roshi, a Zen teacher, said the training of liberation begins with compassion for the self, and that cultivating a non-judgmental mind toward ourselves is the key to a genuine compassion for all beings.


We begin this process by asking what a non-judgmental mind looks like, and what it means to be free of the burden of the inner critic. To understand these questions experientially, we need to turn our attention to the judgmental mind and embrace its pain with the same mindfulness we would bring to a pain in our body or to another’s sorrow.

The essence of mindfulness is to see, to understand, and to find freedom within everything that feels intractable and clouded by confusion. Mindfulness is a present-moment experience, concerned with embracing and understanding the entirety of each moment with tenderness, warmth, and interest. In the light of this engaged attention, we discover it is impossible to hate or fear anything we truly understand, including the judgmental mind. We begin to see that the greatest barrier to compassion and freedom is not the pain or adversity we meet in our lives but the ongoing tendency to criticize and fear the simple truths of the moment. Instead of just wanting the judgmental mind to go away, we could begin to ask what it is teaching us. Abhirupa Nanda, a nun from the time of the Buddha, suggested meditating on the unconditioned. Liberate the tendency to judge yourself as being above, below, or the same as others. By penetrating deeply into judgment, you will live at peace.

Looking closely at the judgmental mind, we see that it is rarely truthful or able to see the whole of anything.

Although it may seem so, we were not born with a judgmental, aversive mind. It is a learned way of seeing and relating, and it can be unlearned. Looking closely at the judgmental mind, we see that it is rarely truthful or able to see the whole of anything. Instead, the judgmental mind is governed by seizing upon the particulars of ourselves and others and mistaking those particulars for the truth. A friend neglects to return a phone call, and this triggers a cascade of anxious thinking that convinces us they are an indifferent person or we are unworthy of their attention. We arrive late for an appointment and in moments the inner critic determines we are a mindless failure. The practice of meditation, of discovering what is true, suggests there is another path that can be followed.

In the Sufi tradition it is suggested that our thoughts should pass through three gates. At the first gate, we ask of our thought, “Is it true?” If so, we let the thought pass through to the second gate, where we ask, “Is it necessary or useful?” If this also is so, we let the thought continue on its way to the third gate, where we ask, “Is this thought rooted in love and kindness?” Judgmental thoughts, which are neither true, helpful, nor kind, falter at the gates.

Students often wonder why the judgmental mind does not appear in the traditional list of afflictions that Siddhartha met under the Bodhi tree. Perhaps it is because the judgmental mind is not one affliction or hindrance but a compounded hindrance. If you explore just one moment during which the inner critic is operating, you sense how the winds of all of the hindrances flow through it. There is craving, which takes form in the expectations and ideals we hold for ourselves and others. There is restlessness and worry — the shoulds and expectations generating endless thought and emotion as we struggle to avoid imperfection. And there is aversion and ill will, directed toward ourselves and others when our shoulds and expectations are disappointed. Doubt makes a powerful appearance too—doubt in our worthiness, goodness, and capacity. Then there is the affliction of dullness, which makes a disguised appearance in the form of despair, resignation, and numbness.

Holding all of these afflictions together are the beliefs we have regarding who we are and who we are not, which continually fuel the afflictive emotions. But the path of awakening invites us to understand this compound of the inner critic, to learn how to loosen its hold and power, and to rediscover all that is true within ourselves and others. The path invites us to extend kindness, rather than harshness, to ourselves and all beings and to learn to see a thought as a thought, rather than as a description of reality. On the path, we can begin to see that self-judgment or judgment of another is no more than a thought that is laden with ill will and aversion. There is a profound liberation in knowing this so deeply that we can let go of ill will.

Nurturing our capacity to be mindful and present is the first step to understanding and disempowering the identity and power of the inner critic.

The Buddha taught that what we dwell upon becomes the shape of our mind. If we dwell on ill will, directed outwardly or inwardly in the form of blame, disparagement, or aversion, it will become the shape of our mind until all that we see is that which is broken, flawed, imperfect, and impossible. In India there is a saying that when a pickpocket meets a saint in the marketplace, all he sees are the saint’s pockets. Habit and awareness do not co-exist. Nurturing our capacity to be mindful and present is the first step to understanding and disempowering the identity and power of the inner critic.

We can learn to pause and to listen deeply to the voice of the inner judge, with its endless symphony of blame and shame, and we can surround it with the kindness of mindfulness. We can investigate the truth of its story. We can begin to sense that the inner critic truly warrants compassion, as does any suffering and affliction. Instead of fleeing the painfulness of the judgmental mind we can turn toward it, sensing that everything we are invited to understand in the journey of awakening can be understood within the judgmental mind. Letting go, compassion, the emptiness of self, equanimity, and wisdom are the lessons we are invited to explore with this most powerful of afflictions. The alchemy of mindfulness is to nurture a sense of possibility. We are encouraged to imagine a life free from ill will, blame, and shame. To imagine a life and a heart of compassion, wisdom, and peace.

Saturday, January 30, 2021

Christina Feldman - Receiving the Breath: Meditation Q & A

When I try to bring awareness to my breath, I feel instead like I’m interfering with its natural flow. What should I do?

This is not an unusual experience. Throughout our lives, we breathe without effort; then the moment we try to breathe consciously, our breathing suddenly feels blocked, shortened, or constricted. Our bodies know how to breathe without instruction, yet it can feel as if we are having to learn how to breathe all over again.

One reason for this is that you have suddenly become the breather. Your mindfulness of breathing has taken on something extra, a layer of self-consciousness, which brings with it tension and uncertainty. You may be trying too hard. Self-consciousness disguised as mindfulness often manifests as an effort to control the breath. Observe this. There is insight to be gained in seeing how we transfer life patterns of control, anxiety, or self-consciousness into our meditation practice. Learning to undo some of these patterns within our practice is a meaningful step in learning how to release their grip on the rest of our lives.

It is important to remember that there is no “right” breath. If you carry with you the idea that your breath should be deep and full when in reality it is shallow, you immediately get into trouble. At times the breath is deep, at times shallow, at times freely flowing, and at other times it can feel blocked. Your practice is to be with your breath as it is, learning to let go of how you think things “should be.” Mindfulness of breathing is a practice of learning to harmonize your attention with what is, in this moment. Short, long, deep, shallow are all fine breaths. Trust your body; it knows what is needed.

Some people come into meditation with a history of breathing difficulties such as asthma. The moment they consciously bring their attention to their breath, the emotional history associated with breathing comes to the forefront of their consciousness. They find themselves struggling with the breath in meditation practice just as they have in life. The fear of not having enough breath to sustain life serves to make each breath an increasingly arduous process. Your meditation should be founded in ease and relaxation. If you have historical associations with the breath that hinder its free flowing, it may be helpful to adopt for a time another object of attention, such as listening. Bear in mind that it is the development of attention that is of primary significance; the object of attention is secondary.

As we begin to practice mindfulness of breathing, we often see ourselves, initially, as the breather, apart and separate from the breath itself. The direction and development of the practice is eventually to bridge this separation until our attention is absorbed fully into the breath. The breath breathes itself, and we experience a place of deep calmness, concentration, and ease. When we breathe, we just breathe. As our practice develops, we learn to let go of much of the emotional and psychological baggage that surrounds so much of what we “do” in life. Essentially, we learn to let go of the “doer.” It is important to be patient with this process. Mindfulness of breathing is a practice of patient intimacy, learning to come closer and closer to the simple process of just breathing.

Without becoming overly strategic or feeling that this is a problem you are required to fix, there are a couple of ways to experiment with letting go of the tension that surrounds your breath. You might experiment with simply focusing your attention in the area of your upper lip and nostrils. Just notice the sensation of your breath entering and leaving your body. Let go of any expectation that your breath should be deeper than it is. Be aware just of the coolness of your incoming breath and the warmth of your outgoing breath. If you notice that there is still tension within your breathing, take your attention just to listening for a few moments. Again, don’t look for sounds, just be receptive to the sounds near and far that come to you. Then return your attention to your breathing once more. See if that same quality of receptivity that you brought to listening can be brought into your awareness of breathing. Sense if it is possible just to receive your breath. Your body is breathing; trust it, let it be just as it is.

Monday, August 7, 2017

Doing, Being and the Great In-Between

Doing, Being and the Great In-Between
by Christina Feldman (published in Tricycle Magazine)

We all want our lives to have meaning—but sometimes we’re unsure what that is. This question of meaning has many significant threads: it’s a question that touches upon our sense of identity and worthiness, and asks us to explore what we’re committed to in this life. George Eliot once wrote, “It seems to me that we can never give up longing and wishing while we are alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good and we must hunger for them.”

I would suggest that it is the beautiful and the good that we aspire to and value above all else. In the midst of the beautiful and the good, we feel most alive, most awake, and most present. The Buddha’s teachings are about cultivating the beautiful and the good, the seeds of possibility that live in every human heart: generosity, kindness, and compassion. These qualities ennoble our hearts and leave no residue of regret in our minds.

A few weeks ago I was in a conversation with a woman I mentor, a woman who has achieved many things. She develops mindfulness treatments for cancer patients, writes books, and teaches. She lives an incredibly worthy life by any standard. She talked about being of an age at which it is time for her to pull back and to give up some of that activity, but she found herself questioning how much meaning her life would have as she retreated from her essential work. It became apparent how complex the word meaning is—how that longing to live a meaningful, creative, fulfilling life is such a powerful aspiration.

In our culture, the idea of meaning is weighty. We ask children what they’re going to do when they grow up rather than who they’ll be. Early in our lives, the seeds are planted to imagine that the meaning of our lives is going to be defined by what we do or by how we are perceived by others.

I’ve met so many people who, when they wake up without a plan or project for the day, feel that this renders their life meaningless. At the same time I’m increasingly aware of how we live in a culture of exhausted people. This includes dharma teachers! I’m embarrassed when we get together and everybody reports how tired they are. Some of you may sense this when you go on retreat. It feels as if the reservoir is empty. You spend the first two days of retreat simply recovering from life. Thomas Merton spoke about the contemporary violence of our times: being answerable to too many people, saying yes to too many things, taking on too much. But in our culture even the exhaustion can seem admirable because we’re so needed. For some the luxury of waking up to a “don’t-know” day, a day empty of projects, is a distant memory. (I do appreciate that for those who are prone to low moods, “don’t-know” days can feel very bleak and depressing.)

In the Buddha’s teaching, desire is a very interesting word. In fact, it’s not one word alone; there are a number of words in Pali that might be translated as “desire.” The Buddha teaches that there are many wholesome desires: the desire to serve, the desire to give, the desire to be free, the desire to cultivate qualities of heart that ennoble our lives and lead us to connect with others. It’s desire that causes us to seek depth and understanding. It is desire that brings about wholesome social change and justice. Our desires are catalysts for all change and transformation, both outwardly and inwardly. They are at the root of skillful effort.

Yet there are also desires that aren’t so noble. These are the insatiable appetites that create stress. One of the subtlest of these desires is called bhavatanha, which may be translated as “the craving to become.” This is the endless desire to become the kind of person who only has pleasant experiences, who is admired and applauded and loved. It’s a desire to become the kind of person who is secure and safe; a person without blemish or imperfection; a person who never fails, who’s never criticized, who’s never judged. Often we’re barely aware of how powerful and compulsive this craving to become is, the degree to which it organizes our world, our relationships, and our choices. It makes us really busy. In order to become this person, we have to engage in many activities and rearrange the conditions of our lives. The pursuit of this desire is equated with success. It’s about finding an identity, which in turn is about worthiness. If I become a person who has only good meditations, who gets only positive feedback, who is successful, and who manages to defend against the unpleasant, then I’ve reached a state of worthiness. I believe my life will have meaning.

If we look at bhavatanha from a reasonable point of view, we might ask, “Is it possible?” From a rational perspective, we would say “No.” None of us has the power to control and re-arrange the conditions of our lives so that we have only pleasant experiences. The Buddha suggested that bhavatanha, the eternal quest for perfection and the ideal self, is the source of the greatest suffering in our lives. But we may find ourselves wondering: What would we do without bhavatanha? What would motivate us? What would give meaning to our lives if we weren’t always striving to become?

From the angle of contemplative practice, it’s really helpful to release the word “meaning” as we usually understand it and to explore the word “meaningfulness.” There’s a vast difference between these two. Meaningfulness is not about great achievement or success; it’s not about grand identities or roles. It’s about how we live our moments. It’s about how we attend to the details of our lives. As I was sitting in conversation with my mentee, the thought came to me: “Why isn’t it considered meaningful to look out my window and appreciate the camellia blooming? Why isn’t this as meaningful as finishing a grand project or becoming someone?” It was clear to me in that moment that if I attended to the camellia wholeheartedly, the moment filled with appreciation and beauty. Right then, there was no sense of lack and no need to improve upon the moment. There was no need to be anyone. The camellia didn’t affirm a “me,” but by observing it with my whole being it affirmed a capacity for stillness, receptivity, and appreciation. It didn’t mean that I was going to sit in that chair forever. I wasn’t going to tell my publisher that my book would never be finished or my children that I’d retired as a mother. But it pointed to the way we dichotomize doing and being.

“It’s a desire to become the kind of person who is secure and safe; a person without blemish or imperfection; a person who never fails, who’s never criticized, who’s never judged.”
What do I mean by being? In the exhaustion of our busyness, the thought of “just being” sounds attractive. I hear people say, “I don’t want to expend any more effort to settle my mind, to be mindful, to be awake. I just want to be.” I understand why this sentiment arises, but we need to be careful. The Buddha’s teaching is a profoundly aspirational one. It points to the deep and transformational possibilities that live in every human heart. The Buddha pointed out that the seeds of liberative understanding and clarity, of kindness and compassion, lie within each of us. And the path to their fruition lies in our commitment. These intentions translate into an embodied way of being. It’s said that the whole of this path rests upon the head of the pin of intention, but “effort” is one of the most frequently used words in the Pali canon. Effort sets us on a path to awakening.

And yet in our practice, we discover how our intentions can slide into becoming another project. So often, I hear the word “work” mentioned these days. Everybody’s working on something! Is this what the practice is about? Be aware of how we translate this desire “to become” into our practice. Have you ever wondered where the end of that work is? If the core sense of self remains unquestioned, it’s always going to find something new to work on. We arrive on retreat with a project of what we have to work on and find ourselves engaged in another quest for identity, worthiness, and meaning with a capital M. We want to be a good meditator. We want a perfectly collected mind and to be eternally mindful, compassionate, and kind. When it’s elusive, we tell ourselves to sit more. But just sitting won’t bring aspiration to embodiment and fulfillment—only understanding and commitment can do that. This includes the commitment to relinquish the endless search for becoming that governs our lives. When that desire “to become” remains empty and unfulfilled, we think, “Maybe it’s just not possible for me.” When we collapse into that exhaustion, then “just being” suddenly looks good.

But we need to be aware of this ideology of “just being,” too. With an attachment to “just being,” how easy it is to yield our hunger for the beautiful and the good. “Just being” can be a yielding to doubt. The toxic companion of the craving to become is the craving for non-becoming. This is when we push away everything that delivers an identity we don’t want: difficult thoughts, bodily experiences, events, and even challenging meditations. We try to annihilate the identity we don’t want, annihilating our sense of aspiration in the process. We flounder and despair, convincing ourselves of impossibility and meaninglessness.

It’s difficult to find an equivalent word for being in Pali. Instead, there are phrases that point to a way of being present and inhabiting this life. One phrase the Buddha uses is “calm abiding” [shamatha]. Another is “equanimity” [upekkha]. He uses the word stillness [passaddhi]. as a way of being present within all moments when there is de-centering of “me,” of self, of identity. These phrases are worthy of deep contemplation and exploration.

When I looked at the camellia, for example, a door opened. I saw what it meant to rest in a quality of profound easefulness where I’m alive and dynamic. There’s a clear sense of not-wanting and sufficiency. The meaningfulness is not in the object—the meaningfulness is in the seeing. Buddhist practice is constantly inviting us to explore that calm abiding. In this way, we may discover that doing and being aren’t so polarized. They work in unison, cooperating to allow a wakeful presence in all the moments and details of our lives. This presence is responsive and creative, a way of being that isn’t born of wanting or not wanting, but of stillness.

Craving “to become” is an impulse that makes us lean forward, away from here, into a better moment, a better self. When we do so, we separate that idealized moment from the actuality of what is just here. It’s only when we learn to end the separation of the possible and the actual that we also learn to end this dichotomy between doing and being. Calm abiding is a present-tense phrase, a way of being in the midst of our lives. We learn to calmly abide in the body, in the mind, in the midst of reactivity. Nothing has to go away. It’s the camellia blooming outside the window again. It’s the shift from the object orientation to the seeing orientation. All of our likes and all of our dislikes, our wanting and not wanting, are born of object orientation. This object orientation—defining identity by objects (including the contents of our consciousness)—limits us. We’ll always have a sense of unease within it.

[IMAGE] The Meaning Between Doing and Being
Beyond the View, No. 2, 2009. © Helen Sear, courtesy Klompching Gallery, New York.


We find ourselves feeling that praise will make me a better self and blame will make me a worse self. A good meditation, whatever that is, says something important about who I am. And a so-called bad meditation really is that: just affirming a sense of unworthiness or failure in capacity. We see how easily we define ourselves by the contents of experience and our minds. In the search for this idealized self, we look at the world through self-referential eyes: “What does this mean to me?” If it means something positive based on the past, my life somehow becomes meaningful. If I look at the world and receive something that challenges or shakes my identity, life becomes impossible and bleak.

Calm abiding is something different. It’s a deep knowing of the ways in which events come and go, both unlovely and lovely. It’s knowing that we can’t control or define ourselves by those events. It’s learning to rest in a non-preferential, non-reactive relationship that is sensitive, receptive, and free from the demand that things go one way or another. Calm abiding is established through intention and commitment. It limits the tide of events and experience. As the Buddha put it, it is knowing “This does not belong to me. This is not who I am. This is not me.”

As we learn to rest in that state of calm abiding amid the river of events and experience, we learn to attend to the details. Leonard Cohen once said, “There is a crack in everything / That’s how the light comes in.” By learning to rest in this caring, sensitive, friendly seeing, we get a taste of upekkha, equanimity, which the Buddha uses interchangeably with nibbana, or liberation, in the Udana Sutta. In the Pali canon there is discourse in praise of equanimity where the Buddha says, “For one who clings, motion exists, but for one who does not cling, there is no motion. Where no motion is, there is stillness. Where stillness is, there no craving is, there is neither coming nor going. Where no coming or going is, there is no arising or passing away. There is neither this world, nor a world beyond, nor a state between. This verily is the end of suffering.”

When we rest, we begin to see the interwoven nature of how events and identity bind together through misperception and clinging to create suffering. We learn to unbind from that perpetual contractedness through awareness. We are less prone to launch ourselves into the compulsive and agitated activities of doing and fixing, getting rid of, in the endless search for the ideal self. We learn to befriend not-knowing, to be still and learn responsiveness, and to foster an intention to bring to each moment just what is needed. It doesn’t mean that there are no objects or events, but that we explore the landscape of meaningfulness. Meaningfulness is found not only in the dramatic and the intense but also in the small moments, illuminated by a curious awareness. We discover that meaningfulness is in our being present. We don’t need to seek meaning, but to understand our capacity to be present in this responsive, still way. It’s in how our foot touches the ground, how we meet another person, how we meet ourselves. The camellia is actually enough. There’s nothing as impoverished as the deeply unawakened heart; and nothing enriches us more, and brings more life and meaningfulness, than the awakened heart.

Monday, June 25, 2012

To bow



To bow is to no longer hold ourselves apart from the unpredictable
nature of all of our lives; it is to cultivate a heart that can
unconditionally welcome all things. We bow to what is, to all of life.

-- Christina Feldman

Perhaps this is about accepting and embracing 'not-knowing'. (CL)

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Present Moment as Teacher

**
The Present Moment is a Mirror
The present moment is the most profound and challenging teacher we will
ever meet in our lives. It is a compassionate teacher, it extends to us
no judgment, no censure, no measurement of success and failure. The
present moment is a mirror, in its reflection we learn how to see.
Learning how to look into this mirror without deluding ourselves is the
source of all wisdom. In this mirror we see what contributes to the
confusion and discord in our lives and what contributes to harmony and
understanding. We see the relationship between pain and its cause on a
moment-to-moment level, we see the bond between love and its source. We
see what it is that connects us and what it is that alienates us.

-- Christina Feldman and Jack Kornfield, /Stories of the Spirit, Stories
of the Heart/
from /Everyday Mind,/ edited by Jean Smith, a /Tricycle/ book