Category: attachment

  • curiosity, mindfulness and anxiety

    curiosity, mindfulness and anxiety

    Mindfulness meditation helps us develop a mental-emotional “check engine light” that flashes in our awareness when we get reactive or anxious.

    There’s a song that’s been banging around in my head for a couple of weeks. It was recorded in 1966 by Buffalo Springfield. The opening lyrics go something like this: There’s something happening here/ what it is ain’t exactly clear.

    Sandwiched between images of street protests, there is this refrain:

    I think it’s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound?
    Everybody look what’s going down.

    Buffalo Springfield – For What it’s Worth (1967)

    the check engine light in the mind

    It quickly became an anthem among disenchanted youth in the late ‘60s. The song has been kicking around my brain, I think, as a sort of auditory memory “check engine light.”

    It’s like my mind was telling me there is something happening here, which is not exactly clear. And that I need to stop, listen and pay attention. Our meditation helps us to develop a mental-emotional “check engine light” that flashes in our awareness as soon as we become reactive or anxious.

    The more meditation hours we log, the quicker we can notice these states arise. And the quicker we can stop and listen, the easier it is to pay close attention to them before they blow out of proportion.

    stop and listen

    My anxiety and indignation have been trying to get my attention, and I wouldn’t stop and listen. My mind was in a fog. So as a last resort they threw me these lyrics; a nostalgic, Hail Mary pass into the end zone of despair.

    The contemporary Burmese meditation teacher Sayadaw U Tejaniya advises:

    When it’s all a fog, bring out curiosity

    When I feel I am up against a wall, and my mind feels confused or irritated, I can’t see through the junk pile of the mind. That’s when U Tejaniya advises to bring out curiosity, to take a breath and ask: 

    what is happening here that isn’t exactly clear?

    What am I not seeing? Hey, what’s that sound? What’s that body sensation? How is this anxiety unfolding in my body?

    Curiosity re-energizes the mind, opening space to unclench our fists, to let go of the story and investigate the facts. And the facts are always pretty simple: this much sensation, plus this much self-talk, a bit of memory and a pinch of extraneous sense impressions– and voilà, home cooked anxiety. Or grumpiness.

    Or any of a vast number of downer mind states. We can either succumb and whine or be curious and marvel at how the mind and body function. 

    The ukiyo-e illustration of a Japanese crane by Mochizuki Gyokusen, 1891.
    The ukiyo-e illustration of a Japanese crane by Mochizuki Gyokusen, 1891.

    meditation is really the only sensible approach to our issues.

    Sadly, some people use meditation as yet another escape. But when we use it to fully attend to our life, real changes can happen.

    We talk a lot about being mindful when the mind is caught in attachments. But I feel this advice is heavily slanted toward “liking” pleasant states of mind and body.

    But attachment also happens when you are afraid of something, or dislike something. Attachment happens because of the sticky quality of our emotions.

    My job at the hospital these past couple of weeks has been bonkers challenging. During the pandemic, a number of our nursing staff retired early or quit. Before I realized it I was caught in a web of fear, anxiety and complaints. I stopped writing this newsletter and curled into a ball of recrimination.

    Then I caught Buffalo Springfield’s pass: 

    There’s something happening here, what it is ain’t exactly clear. 

    And when I stopped and asked myself hey, what’s happening here, I began to see through the junk pile in my mind. The popular Tibetan meditation teacher Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche:

    Ultimately, happiness comes down to choosing between the discomfort of becoming aware of your mental afflictions and the discomfort of being ruled by them.

    Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche.

    FYI,  “mental afflictions” is Buddhism-speak for whatever is in that junk pile: fear, anxiety, irritation, whatever. 

    mindfulness is not an emotional fly swatter

    Our sticky emotions don’t need to go away. There is nothing to gain, and a lot of harm done, by using mindfulness as an emotional fly swatter. We are simply getting to know what our emotions feel like both in the body and in the mind, in a progressively deepening way.

    This increases the accuracy and sensitivity of that check engine light.

    When I’m in a fractious conversation with a supervisor at the hospital, I know on a deep level the person I call “me” me is not just the reactive impulses that arise or the feelings of pressure in my chest. 

    Rewording a phrase the Buddha often used, since everything is in a constant state of flux, there is really nothing I can grasp as “me.” Furthermore. any attempts to grasp–at self, others, things, or situations– leads to disappointment and discomfort. 

    mindfulness and curiosity

    Getting curious means we notice our our conditioned reactions to pain — especially the ways we struggle to be with what is. And mindfulness helps us accept things and situations as they are.

    But that doesn’t mean I let the supervisor berate or harass me, saying silently “oh, this is just changing phenomena, and not me.” Not at all

    When we drop the need for the world to be something it is not, we naturally let go of rumination about how things should be. About how a supervisor should talk to an employee. 

    acceptance is not resignation.

    The heart of mindfulness is intentionally cultivating an easy, non-judgmental attitude to whatever is happening, moment by moment. This increases our tolerance for all that is unpleasant.

    But tolerance also doesn’t mean resignation. It means fully experiencing negative mind states, such as anger and guilt, without swatting them away. It means opening to, and feeling, what is. This draws the stickiness from our emotions, like a poultice on a wound.

    Then we gain a little more wisdom and can better deal with what’s in front of us, like that angry supervisor.

    Let’s wind down with another pointer from U Tejaniya Sayadaw:

    A wise person will take advantage of a [difficult] experience to develop mindfulness, stability of mind, and understanding. Someone without wisdom will just react to the same situation with aversion.

    Awareness, from the Moment You Wake Up

    Is there not a more appropriate way to end this post? Take it away, Johnny:

    read another?

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  • attachment in Buddhism

    attachment in Buddhism

    The problem of attachment in Buddhism is not about having or not having an attachment, but it’s our tendency to not be aware an attachment ensnared us.

    Did you hear the one about the person attending his first meditation retreat? He asked the teacher if he could check his email during breaks. The teacher said yes, but avoid attachments.

    So let’s look at this question of attachments.

    What exactly are they and why should we avoid them?

    Buddhist philosophy approaches many of these kinds of questions on two levels, called the relative and the absolute. On the absolute level, there is nothing we can become attached to because in the universe in which we live, nothing is permanent.

    Yet, we all have likes and dislikes.

    I like to listen to 1960s jazz and eat high carb foods (not necessarily at the same time). I can’t get enough of Miles Davis and I have a weight problem.

    Intellectually, we know nothing lasts for very long; the objects of our desires inevitably slip through our fingers. From the Buddhist point of view, we feel stress and unhappiness because our organism doesn’t want to be parted from its likes, and doesn’t want to deal with its dislikes.

    So, how do we practice with attachment when they come up?

    Our meditation practice is not about getting rid of attachments.

    The desire for an unattached life is yet another attachment.

    Rather, our practice is about being aware of them and appreciating them for what they are.

    The issue of attachment in Buddhism our practice is about being aware of them and appreciating them for what they are.
    The issue of attachment in Buddhism our practice is about being aware of them and appreciating them for what they are – lithograph by Derek Valez

    If we didn’t have likes and dislikes we wouldn’t be fully human. Mindfulness asks us to appreciate our likes and dislikes without triggering reactive patterns of holding-on or pushing away things or experiences.

    When we are not aware we have an attachment, we tend to react from our past conditioning. We have formed hundreds of reactive patterns in our organism over our lifetime.

    The problem is not having or not having an attachment but it’s our tendencies to not be aware an attachment ensnared us and the subsequent acting out from our reactive patterning.

    When we act out of our reactive patterning, we tend to say or do things that are harmful to others and to ourselves.

    Our meditation practice is incredibly simple: be aware of “what is” moment by moment. But when we are attached to a thing or to an outcome, it diverts away our attention from simply “what is.” Rather, we react to what we wish was or wasn’t, what we believe should or shouldn’t be, instead of what is.

    The goal of our Buddhist practice I think is summed up in one line from this ancient koan:

    A student asks the Zen master of old, Yunmen, “What is the goal of a lifetime of practice?”

    The answer that comes back is this: “An appropriate response.”

    Our practice is about developing our hearts and minds to respond more appropriately to the whole kit and caboodle of this being human. And an appropriate response can only be based on the truth of our life as it is, right here and now.

    I once read another line that also sums it all up nicely. In Ode to a Grecian Urn, the English poet John Keats wrote:

    Beauty is truth, truth beauty. That is all you know on earth, and all you need to know.

    I love this line. Truth is what is right here and now, anything else is mental fabrication. And what is here right here and now is beautiful just as it is, precisely because it could not be any other way.

    Our practice reveals the beauty all around us. It also encourages us to embrace the full spectrum of who and what we are, including our attachments and reactive habits.

    And when we embrace all of it, we relish everything just as it is.

    This opens up a very rich moment, a pause, or a space–as described by Viktor Frankl:

    Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

    Our mindfulness practice teaches us to pause and let the habituated patterns play themselves out in consciousness for a few moments, and it is in this pause in which an appropriate response comes to be.

    Our practice is this simple. Yet the results are truly profound.