Author: Jim Walsh

Nearly a year ago I posted an essay on emotional reasoning (see “Emotional Reasoning” in the archive for August 2012).   I hope it all made sense, but I’m afraid I fell down on the job a bit because I promised, at the end of that post, that my next post would be on “perspective taking.”  I never posted that essay, an error I am correcting today.

In that essay a year ago on emotional reasoning I discussed the normal human process of witnessing events (a continuous and seemingly infinite process even during an ordinary day), having emotions/feelings emerge nearly spontaneously, and then having behaviors at least initiate, if not actually occur.  The example I used back then was our response to perceiving a yellow traffic light far enough ahead so that we slow down and stop.  You perceive the event (the yellow light), a feeling emerges (caution), and a behavior ensues (you stop, or at least we’re hoping you will!).

It’s not until all of these phenomena have occurred that thinking gets into the action.  The first thoughts we have, which we can call automatic thoughts, generally emerge from the feeling of the event and usually support the behavior that emerged.  In the case above the automatic thought would be simple: good thing I stopped, wouldn’t want to have an accident.

In this rather simple example we see how all of our mental processes work, to a point.  The way of thinking that is automatic can be referred to as “emotional reasoning;” that is, the way our mind makes sense of the feeling we have and the way we behaved.  Here’s another example, less mundane than the previous one.  I receive an email from my boss that says “I noticed you didn’t get that report I wanted done on time.  Please come to my office at your earliest convenience.”  Oy Vey!  This could be serious.  A feeling arises, probably anxiety (dread of future danger) or even fear (dread of present danger).  Now behaviors emerge; perhaps you pace a bit, or fidget, or bite your nails, or begin calling around to see if anyone knows if s/he is in a good mood today.  But, like our “yellow light” example above, the behaviors that arise are typically congruent with the feeling that emerges.  And now, here comes emotional reasoning in the form of automatic thoughts!  “I know I’ll get fired!”  “He didn’t give me enough time to do the report the RIGHT way!”  “I’m always putting myself in these jams; what’s wrong with me!”  It can go on and on.

I think you can see the problem that emotional reasoning, when perpetuated, can cause.  Each one of those thoughts would only serve to make the feelings of anxiety and/or fear stronger, last longer, and dominate our conscious awareness.  We become the fear; in a way we become fused with the fear as if we actually ARE the fear rather than a person having an experience of fear.  It’s important, when we fall into a pattern of emotional reasoning that perpetuates a painful emotion, that we are able to use a different skill, perspective taking.

Perspective taking, as the term implies, is simply another way of thinking about a situation.  Seems simple, and it is, but we have to work at it.  In the example of the boss missing the report, my perspective taking might sound like this: “He’s right, I’m two days late with this.  Just got so busy I couldn’t commit as well as I would have liked.  He’s usually pretty understanding and probably will ask me to prioritize this report over my other projects.  Oh well, I’ve faced bigger challenges that this and come through OK.

You should notice a few things about this perspective taking.  First, it is not automatic; it requires effort and reasoning.  Second, it doesn’t white-wash the problem; it merely considers other possibilities about the issue at hand.  Third, if affirms my ability to be resilient.  Finally, it doesn’t take a “best case scenario” perspective but it does assume that the problem can be handled.  I hope you can see how thinking this way would slow down the fear, restore some measure of calmness, and make it easier to stop by and see my boss.

Perspective taking is a very important skill.  It is what parents teach their children when they get upset.  It is what we do to make sense out of a world that can be very difficult at times.  And the miracle of perspective taking is that it actually slows down the neurobiology of the “fear center” of the brain so that the relief you have after doing it is a genuine felt experience.  Emotional reasoning is a key feature of the problem focused personality style.  Perspective taking is a key feature of the solution focused personality style.  Guess which type of personality is generally happier?

One other thought on perspective taking.  When we are in the midst of emotional reasoning we experience “cognitive narrowing.”  This is the phenomenon of not being able to think of anything else besides the emotion-driven events before us. Cognitive narrowing limits our capacity to find solutions to problems.  Perspective taking, on the other hand, leads to “cognitive widening.”  Because we are calmer we can see with greater clarity, and are much more disposed to find solutions.

Perspective taking is an important part of mindfulness meditation practice.  In our formal practice we repeatedly dwell in a non-judgmental, present moment perspective that notices our internal experiences.  Cultivating this perspective habituates our minds to this skill, so that in the moment our emotional reasoning arises we are much better equipped to use perspective taking as needed.  People who practice mindfulness are better able to take new and sometimes novel perspectives about the occurrences of life, and less prone to get stuck in the revolving door of emotional reasoning.  So the next time you wonder “why bother sitting today” notice the resistance (the feeling), the urge to do something else, and the emotional reasoning (“oh, I’ve got so much to do today; I’m afraid I’ll never get done”).  Then do some perspective taking: “If I sit today I’ll be better at perspective taking!”  The more you meditate, the more you will meditate again!

Peace,

Jim

So, did you take the Five Facet Mindfulness Questionnaire (FFMQ)?  If not and you would like to, just scroll down to the previous post and you’ll find the link to the online version of this self-assessment.  Whether you choose to take it or not, you might find its “five facets” interesting and helpful.

Overall the FFMQ seeks to assess the extent of a person’s Dispositional Mindfulness, which is understood as the experience of mindfulness as a trait of personality, and not as a state one practices through meditation.  To reiterate a point in my previous post, the regular practice of “state mindfulness” (i.e. formal meditation) strengthens trait (or dispositional) mindfulness.  Presumably the FFMQ will give you an idea as to how “trait mindful” you are, much like a personality assessment might give you an idea as to how extraverted or introverted you are.

The FFMQ goes further than simply an overall assessment of Dispositional Mindfulness, however.  It breaks mindfulness into these five facets, or parts:

Observing: This is the tendency to notice or attend to internal and external experiences, such as sensations, emotions, cognitions, sounds, sights, and smells.  When we do sitting meditation, it’s not unusual to anchor your attention in your breath, while noticing the various awarenesses that come to your attention, like those named above.  This facet assesses whether you believe you maintain this level of awareness on a general basis

Describing: This is the tendency to describe and label those experiences with words.  Are you skilled at naming how you’re feeling?  At finding words to describe your internal, mental experiences?  That is what this facet intends to capture.

Acting with Awareness:  This is the tendency to bring undivided attention to current activities and experiences.  As life unfolds, are you aware and noticing?  Able to say in your mind’s voice “I’m reading this blog in this moment and learning something new”?

Non-Judging: This is the tendency to accept and not evaluate your internal experiences.  You simply notice them, perhaps you name them, perhaps not, but you do not fuse with those experiences.  “These feelings or perceptions or thoughts are mental events I’m having, but they’re not WHO I am.”

Non-Reacting: This is the tendency to allow thoughts and feelings to come and go, without getting caught up or carried away with them.  It is the natural consequence, in a way, of having a non-judging attitude toward your internal experiences.  “I feel THIS way; what is my most skillful response?” may be what you hear yourself think.

In a nutshell, according to this body of research being “mindful” means to observe your internal experiences in a way that allows you to describe them, neither judge nor react strongly to them, and act skillfully in full awareness.  I think it’s an interesting way to look at mindfulness, one that can help us to deepen our practice.

In the course of a typical day we all find ourselves living quite mindlessly; it’s pretty inevitable.  In the moment I realize “hey, I’m being pretty mindless,” having knowledge of these five facets of mindfulness may help me to realize where I went off course and help to guide my formal meditation practice.  For instance, if I find myself getting carried away with my feelings, then working on remaining non-judgmental in my formal practice may be very helpful.  Often in our formal practices an urge to do something (like change our posture or turn off the fan that’s making that clicking sound) arises; sitting and abiding with that urge might help each of us to be more non-reactive in our day-to-day living.

So, maybe this way of thinking about mindfulness helps you to understand your practice, maybe not, but it’s good to know that there are a lot of scholars out there taking this ancient practice very seriously and learning more about how it helps people to have less suffering and greater serenity.  You’ll find a lot of information in news sources about this kind of research, and I would encourage you to let it stoke your curiosity as you deepen your personal practice.

Peace,

Jim

About a year ago I wrote an essay titled “Mindfulness: State and Trait” (June 26, 2012).  In that essay I described two ways to understand the personal experience of being mindful.  One way, state, is when we actively practice any form of meditation (e.g. sitting, walking, body scan, mindful stretching, etc.).  State mindfulness is the “work” of our practice, and how we cultivate deeper and deeper levels of mindful living.

On the other hand, trait refers to our temperament, or, if you prefer, our personality, which is relatively stable in terms of its day to day manifestation. You might think of “state” as analogous to the weather and “trait” as analogous to the climate.  Weather may vary, but climate is steady (well, we hope so anyway).  Your meditation practice is a chance to explore your internal weather, with your personality as a stable backdrop.

One interesting aspect of the practice of mindfulness is that the regular inducement of state mindfulness leads to strengthening trait mindfulness.  That shouldn’t be that surprising, of course, as anyone who’s ever practiced a skill knows.  The more you work on playing the piano, the more you become a “piano player.”  It’s like the great scene in “The Karate Kid:” “wax on, wax off” leads to the ability to block a punch reflexively.  Meditate regularly enough and you find yourself taking a mindful breath in the midst of the chaos without effort; suddenly you have clarity where once there was confusion.

A question we always ask at our monthly meditation meetings is “How’s your practice going?”  Here’s another question you might want to ask: “Is my practice leading to a strengthening of mindfulness as a trait?”  If you’re curious about that one, there’s a trait mindfulness inventory that’s being used in research that seems to have good validity.  It’s called the Five Facet Mindfulness Questionnaire.  It’s self administered, and can be found online at http://www.awakemind.org/quiz.php

If you take this inventory you’ll notice that it gives you an overall mindfulness score but it also breaks mindfulness into five facets: Observe, Describe, Act with Awareness, Non-Judging, and Non-Reacting.  In my next essay we’ll take a look at these five facets and their correlations with other psychological factors (e.g. depression-proneness, relationship skills etc.).

Peace,

Jim

“People here are funny. They work so hard at living they forget how to live.”  Longfellow Deeds.

“At two o’clock this morning, Mr. Deeds held up traffic while he fed a bagful of doughnuts to a horse. When asked why he was doing it, he replied, ‘I just wanted to see how many doughnuts this horse would eat before he asked for a cup of coffee.'”  Newspaper article describing Mr. Deeds’s “pixilated” behaviors.

I love old movies; new ones too!  Last week “Mr. Deeds Goes to Town” was on, and I got to watch the last half of it again.  For those unfamiliar, it’s a 1936 movie directed by Frank Capra, whose movies always seem to capture a slice of down home life, regular folks just living the American life.  If you want to experience Capra at his best just look out for “It Happened One Night,” “Mr. Deeds…,” “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,” and “It’s a Wonderful Life.”  Capra is most interested in the average person facing life’s difficulties, often caused by conflict between the greedy and judgmental rich and frugal and accepting small town people.  He paints in broad strokes, usually not completely realistically (small town folks can be quite greedy and judgmental too!), but he always makes an important point: life is simpler than we make it out to be, if only we can stop trying to be things we’re not, and just be who we really are.  If nothing else, Capra argues for a radical authenticity in how we choose to live our lives.  At least that’s my take on Capra.

There’s a great scene in “Mr. Deeds…” that makes the case for authenticity.  Longfellow Deeds, the title character, has been brought into court for a sanity hearing.  You see, he inherited $20 million and decided it was too much trouble to be wealthy and live in the big city.  He began giving away the fortune so he could return to his small town life (the fictional Mandrake Falls) where he had been quite happy.  Various schemers do what schemers do best: they plot to upend Mr. Deeds and get the fortune for themselves.  They argue that anyone who would want to give away $20 million MUST be insane.  And to prove their point they bring in, as their star witnesses, the Faulkner sisters, elderly spinsters who have known Longfellow since his birth in Mandrake Falls.  They testify that he is “pixilated” and always has been. Here’s the movie’s definition of pixilated, spoken by one of the psychiatrists who will determine his sanity:

Perhaps I can explain, Your Honor. The word pixilated is an early American expression, derived from the word ‘pixies,’ meaning elves. They would say, ‘The pixies had got him,’ as we nowadays would say a man is ‘balmy.’

Later on the same sisters testify that everyone in Mandrake Falls is pixilated, except them, of course.  Eventually Longfellow is exonerated, gets to punch the head schemer in the nose, and returns home with his sweetheart in his arms.  Don’t you love happy Hollywood endings!

Why must we be so darned sober and serious all the time!  Can’t we be a bit pixilated too?  To be pixyish is to be playfully mischievous.  To have some fun with life, mostly with our self, not taking ourselves and life so seriously.  Sometimes we get so serious, so hung up on “how things ought to be,” that we miss how things actually are.  Look around you; no matter how difficult this moment may be for you, and, yes, life can be very difficult, look and see the beauty inherent in this moment, this person, this world.  This is the moment we are invited to embrace, to join in a dance with God or transcendence or eternity, however you choose to understand the mystery of this life.  Thomas Merton, Catholic mystic, embracer of the dance of life, closed his spiritual classic “New Seeds of Contemplation,” with this lovely sentence:

We are invited to forget ourselves on purpose, cast our awful solemnities to the winds and join in the general dance.

So my message in this little, silly essay is don’t be afraid to find out how many doughnuts a horse will eat before it asks for a cup of coffee.  Don’t work so hard at living that you forget how to live.  I think Merton would have agreed wholeheartedly with Deeds: everyone is a little pixilated, if only we have the courage and wisdom to be so.

So I’m off to pixilate a bit now.  Watch out, you may find me dancing!

Peace,

Jim

Sometime last year (or the year before?) I wrote some posts on Resilience.  As time passes there’s so much good research that comes out, especially about this particular construct.  As this month’s Scientific American Mind has a feature article on Resilience (“Ready for Anything;” July/August 2o13 SI Mind), I thought I would recapitulate some earlier thoughts and add some from more recent research.

Resilience is usually thought of as the capacity to bounce back from difficult times, but there’s another dimension altogether that can’t be overlooked.  Besides the capacity to bounce back, resilience includes the capacity to ward off diminishment due to stressors in your life.  So one way to think of resilience would be one’s recovery from a depressive episode.  Another way would be one’s ability to prevent falling into the depressive episode in the first place.  Both qualities of resilience are a combination of personality traits and learned skills.  One can become a more resilient person through practice and commitment, but one is born with some level of innate resilience.

The most recent edition of SI Mind makes several good points about resilience that bear repeating.  Here is a synopsis of those points.

1. “Resilience is the process of adapting well in the face of adversity, trauma, tragedy, threats or even significant sources of stress.”  If we focus on the word “adapting” in particular, I think we can see that resilience can be found in deciding to work with a new but adverse condition, seeing how this setback creates opportunity for deeper and more meaningful living.  I can think of many of the people I’ve worked with or taught over the years who suffered a tragedy but then converted those painful emotions into the energy they needed to create positive change in their own life, often times on societal levels.  For instance I can think of one person who lost a dear friend to suicide, then decided to dedicate her life to helping people who’ve reached that dark place find a way out of their suffering.  Her pain over this loss caused adaptation, and this adaptation in and of itself is emblematic of her resilience.  Can we do something similar when life brings us tragedy, seeking to find ways to relieve our own suffering, to some extent, by relieving the suffering of others?  And, if we can, does this not become our own healing, our own journey to renewed life?

2. “A resilient person is…not someone who avoids stress, but someone who learns how to tame and master it.”  Oh, to have a stress free life.  Sounds great, doesn’t it?  It may sound great, but it’s an illusion.  Life brings stress; pain happens.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a pessimist by nature, but you have to admit that things seem to go wrong pretty regularly without any help from you or me!  So the question we must ask ourselves is not only “how do I eliminate stress?” but also, “how do I thrive despite stress?”  I think that this statement, quoted above, is important to incorporate into our foundational mindset.  We must reframe stress as it arises in our life.  If we begin to see stressful events as inevitable and understandable, then we can begin to see that the problem isn’t that stress happens, the  problem is how well I actually handle stress.  It’s an important reframe because it leaves one able to say, with sureness, that my life, and life in general, is good, even when things go wrong.  Accepting this statement as true frees us to be solution oriented people rather than problem oriented.

3. “Two approaches that have received increasing scientific support (in resilience research) are cognitive reappraisals and mindfulness meditation.”  In the first two sections of this post we’ve looked at how choosing an adaptive response can help us to be resilient and how changing our attitude about stress can make stress more survivable.  Now, let’s take a look at how a person can use the mind itself to manage stress.

Cognitive reappraisal is a learned mental behavior, it’s that simple.  Another phrase for this behavior is perspective taking.  Bad things happen.  Sometimes our point of view is accepting, seeing things clearly, and then responding with skill.  But sometimes our point of view is aversive, seeing things in a distorted way, and then responding in concert with the aversion and distortion, often with little skill.  It’s difficult to recognize and accept our aversions and distortions, because often we’ve learned them through our family of origin or overall life experiences.  And those aversions and distortions may actually have been quite functional at one time and in one place, but may be quite out of touch right here, right now.  It’s good to be humble.  Did you ever meet someone and think “wow, this guy really sees things the wrong way?”  Well, guess what, sometimes each of us is “this guy.”  When things are getting worse rather than better consider the possibility that you might be seeing things completely wrong, and you need to reappraise, take a different perspective.  Someone else’s insult may be evidence of their aversions and distortions, not yours.  Your loathing for a person may be evidence of your pain, rather than something that’s wrong with the other person.  Life may not be fair, but it can be lived as fully as possible.

But taking a new perspective isn’t always easy, especially when what we’re feeling and thinking seems SO RIGHT.  That’s where mindfulness practice can be helpful.  When we meditate by centering our minds on a single object, such as breath, non-judgmentally, our bodies and minds slow down with time and practice.  But more importantly our capacity for broad mindedness, to see new perspectives, for cognitive reappraisals, gets so much stronger.  We notice the ebb and flow of our minds, and realize that thoughts are just thoughts, feelings just feelings.  They may or may not be true representations of our life; we get to decide.  This openness allows us to see our internal experiences with equanimity, which can then become our calmness toward the world.  The meditation work itself may not actually relieve our stress level, but it may just open our minds enough so that we can see things differently, and respond with much greater skill.  Mindfulness might not be the answer to our problems, but it may make it possible to find the answer.  I can think of no greater skill that’s made my life easier than my capacity to be mindful.

Well, that’s the scoop from this wonderful article in SI Mind.  I highly recommend this publication, as it is constantly filled with thought provoking articles about the mind. Hope this was helpful!

Peace,

Jim

In my last post I admitted to the world that I am an emotionally sensitive person.  I can hear my friends and family now: “well, duh…”  No great revelation there!  If you want to see a grown man cry just sit with me when the right kind of movie is on.  And the “right kind of movie” is not a short list.  It even includes “Rocky,” believe it or not.  Hey, that final scene after the titanic battle with Apollo Creed is over, and Adrian runs into the ring and says “I love you,” and Rocky responds in kind, if that doesn’t reduce you to tears what will?  OK, I admit it, this is not exactly “Romeo and Juliet,” but you have to admit that it’s a great happy ending.

I’ve often wondered what it is that makes someone “more emotionally sensitive.”  Is it that we’re less resilient to the effects of emotions?  Is it that our emotional neurobiology is just more highly strung than that of other people?  I’m not sure, but I know that the feeling of emotion permeates my entire body when something that is emotion-provoking happens.  I feel it everywhere, and I feel it strongly, too strongly to ignore.  Over the years I’ve found that it’s so easy (and sometimes tempting) to simply surf on the surge of feelings, seeing the world through an emotional lens that shades events in less than rational ways.  This can be a source of great unhappiness if it isn’t managed.

In my experience I have found a few helpful ways to manage my emotions so that they do not become a source of suffering.  I’d like to list them here, with the caveat that this is what has worked for me; it may not work for you.  Each one of us has to discover our own path.  But I’ve also found that the paths that others have chosen frequently help me to discover my own, sometimes by following those other paths and sometimes by avoiding them.  However you wish to take it, here’s my path, at least the one I’ve come to use for now.

1. Things got much better for me, emotionally speaking, when I stopped judging myself for being so emotional in the first place.  When I was a teenager one of my parents criticized me harshly for “having a tendency to be so emotional,” and for years I believed that my emotional sensitivity was a pathology.  It’s not; it’s just how I’ve been formed.  When I accepted this part of myself it became much easier to live with.
2. With acceptance came relief, but I still found the strength of my emotions to be difficult to manage.  I realized that I had to understand my feelings as if they were a part of me, not the whole of me.  I found it helpful to think of my emotions as a part of me with which I could have a relationship, a friendly relationship, but a relationship with boundaries.  I learned to greet the onslaught of strong feelings as I would greet a friend: warmly embracing, but wanting to hear what news he had for me before deciding if this was a good time to hang out with him.
3. So, accepting my sensitive self, and seeing that sensitive self as a “part” rather than the “whole” of me, I found myself becoming aware of my strong feelings as they arose.  It was around this same time that I began the practice of mindfulness meditation.  I found that my meditation practice strengthened my ability to be aware of, but not attached to, the experiences of body/mind phenomena.  So thoughts, perceptions, and feelings could be observed and understood as a process with a period of arising, then abiding, and then a fading away.  Turns out nothing is permanent!
4. Several years ago this observational quality led to a cathartic insight: these emotions are simple yet powerful instruments, much like the instruments we use to understand and predict the weather.  Like a barometer, my feelings indicated atmospheric changes, but in my internal (and usually relational) climate rather than the external climate.  My anger tells me the temperature; my fear is an anemometer, telling me which way the emotional winds are blowing.  My shame is like a hygrometer, telling me the humidity in the air.  My sadness is a rain gauge, letting me know how damp and dreary things have become.  In this moment of insight these strong emotions became my best friends, because they were my spiritual compass, helping me to set direction and course with the wisdom of the informational body!
5. Having this vital information at my fingertips, I could now use my sensitive feelings as a guide to let me know how best to respond in the moment to whatever was happening between myself and another person.  No longer bound by my feelings, I could welcome them and let them guide, but not control, my ways of being and intervening in the world.  My strong feelings were now a source of comfort and celebration, not events to be feared.
6. And, finally, I learned to stop saying “he/she/it made me feel this way,” and learned to say “when he/she/it does “this”, my body usually feels “this way”, and that’s OK.”  Now I’m free to say “OK, if my body feels “this way”, what’s the next best thing to do?”  And for me, that equates to one very important quality:  FREEDOM.  I am free to choose my response, no longer a slave to my feelings.  And this feels good!

That’s it.  Probably doesn’t seem like much, but for me it was life saving.  I found I wasn’t liking myself when I would get carried away by my feelings.  It’s much easier now that I’m able to regard my feelings mindfully and embrace them, but not become attached.

I hope this is helpful for you.  Please, don’t try to be me; find your own way of managing your emotions.  Maybe some of what I’ve done can help you, but don’t believe for a second that it’s the only way.  You have to learn for yourself as I learned for myself, and continue to learn.  I don’t think these six steps are the end of the story for me.  I’m certain that I’ll be learning from life and refining my ways for as long as I live.

Peace,

Jim

I admit it, I’m a sensitive person.

There’s no shame in that, really.  Emotional sensitivity is largely determined by heredity.  Some babies are born fussy, others calm.  The fussy ones need attention fairly frequently.  It’s important that their parents soothe them, and teach them to soothe themselves.  They may tremble a bit in the playground when they’re 3 years old, uncertain about venturing very far from mom or dad.  And they may wail when you leave them for the first time in a classroom with only a teacher and maybe an aide there to comfort them.

The calm ones are different, of course.  They wander off easily in the playground; you probably have to be a bit more vigilant to make sure they don’t wander off too far.  They bump and bruise their way through life, barely ever crying or fussing, falling down, getting up, and moving on.  That first grade class is a breeze for them, and they plunge head first into most activities.  Calm babies most easily grow into confident adolescents and teens.  The ups and downs of daily living do not usually affect them as deeply as their emotionally sensitive peers.  I love my calm friends, much more unflappable to the vagaries of life than I, but it is to my emotionally sensitive friends that I direct these thoughts today.

Those fussy babies frequently grow up to be emotionally sensitive adolescents and adults.  They see, hear, and feel every emotional nuance in the room.  When happy they may become ecstatic.  When sad they may feel despair.  When praised they will beam with delight.  When criticized they may want to crawl into the deepest hole.  They are the first to notice when someone else is hurting, and frequently the first person others turn to when in need of support, nurturing, and guidance.  They usually have a good “gut feel” for people, and are guided frequently by empathic recognition of the needs of others.

This was me growing up.  I still get kidded by friends and family about how easily I fussed as a youngster.  I can remember the times I was hurt by childhood friends, schoolyard companions, and various members of the different high school herds; I can still feel the sting of those hurts as I envision them.  But I also remember golden times sharing thoughts and ideas, connecting deeply in play and in conversation with those same friends, companions, and high school herds.  When I think back to the never-ending hours spent playing sports, especially stick ball, baseball, and basketball, I remember most the camaraderie of those games.  I was a bit of a gym rat in college, spending hours playing basketball in sweaty, stinking gyms.  But what wonderful friendships were formed in those gyms.  What life lasting experiences we had.

Being emotionally sensitive is a two edged sword.  The gift of emotional sensitivity is your capacity to feel deeply in the moment, a capacity that allows you to find deep meaning in the simplest experiences.  And the emotional charge that those experiences kindle make those events deeply memorable; you carry those memories for life, gladly.  But there’s a price you pay, because when you feel hurt, angered, saddened, frightened, or ashamed, you feel it very deeply, sometimes too deeply.  And it’s hard to forget those emotionally charged experiences and sometimes even harder to know how to respond to another person who has hurt you.  It can feel really overwhelming.

When we sit in meditation we must sit with our entire mind/body fully present.  The point of our meditation is not to quell unpleasant feelings, but to know them, make room for them, learn from them, abide in them.  Those of us who are sensitive are tempted, at times, to use the relaxation that comes so easily with meditation as a balm to our emotionally unpleasant bodily feelings.  It’s so easy to see meditation as an escape, a way out of pain.  But we know that this only leads to more suffering; aversion to a feeling quickly becomes attachment, and we find the unpleasant feeling reappearing again and again and again.

Instead, it’s important to bring unpleasant emotional states to our meditation seeking only to make peace with them.  Radical acceptance, making space for the unpleasant, and most of all recognizing whether the unpleasant feelings can be paired with skillful responses, are all possible with mindfulness practice.  When faced with the sequelae of an emotion provoking event, we have choices we can make as to how we will respond.  I hope to take that up in my next essay.  For now, please don’t feel ashamed if you’re very sensitive; it’s a gift you’ve been given, one that you return abundantly to the people in your life.  It hurts at times, but it’s worth it when you weigh the benefit you bring to others in need, if only you can learn to manage the feelings of the hurtful side of this two edged gift.

Peace,

Jim

No, I’m not talking about meditating outdoors on cold days!

Several years ago there was a sign posted on one of the trail entrances in White Clay Creek State Park giving this information: “Warning: Cougar Sighted in Area.”  You have to admit that particular message is enough to give one pause before hitting the trail.  When asked by my wife what we should do as we stared at that sign before taking a trail run together, I said the obvious: “Nothing to worry about.  As long as I can outrun you, I’m perfectly safe.”  This is not a good thing to say if you want to stay married for very long, but she forgave me and we decided to take the run anyway.  The sign is still up, nobody has seen a cougar since, and I suspect someone had seen a big yellow labrador retriever in the distance and panicked.

But there are a lot of deer in the state park and I’m sure that they take the sign quite literally, at least the literate ones do 🙂  So, what’s a deer to do when it comes upon a hungry cougar?  This is a question that deer have been asking for millennia no doubt, and we know the choices they have.  Our biology guides our potential responses to danger; we have no other options.  It’s either fight, flight, or freeze.  When facing an existential threat the body is hardwired for safety; you cannot overcome these instincts.  I’m sure that occasionally a deer, especially if it is a buck with a large rack of antlers, has stood his ground to fight a cougar, but in general I suspect that most of the time the deer either takes off at its highest speed or stands as still as possible, hoping the predator doesn’t see it.

I recently had a chance to talk to someone who faced down a bully.  No, not a schoolyard bully, but the more common type we meet in our office or at the market or on the highway.  You know the type of person I’m talking about: he talks over your voice at a meeting, she gossips about a friend of yours within your hearing, he stares you down as he cuts in front of you in line or while making an abrupt lane change at 65 miles per hour.  When something like this happens it is difficult to not have a visceral response.  Our bodies recognize the threat, our metabolism elevates a little or a lot, our muscles may tense, our teeth may clench, and it always seems that we think of a strong, assertive response a minute or an hour or a day later, but not in the moment.

When I talk to people about these kinds of situations the “fight” response is always seen as strong, the “flight” response as inevitable, but the “freeze” response is not understood.  Why would you stay within plain view, still a target, when the bully uses his words or glance or body language to intimidate you.  But I think a case can be made for freezing, and that a case can be made that this is a very mindful response in some circumstances.

Predators prey on others whether they are hungry or not.  If you’ve ever had a pet cat who was a good hunter, you know this is true.  When I was an adolescent we had a cat who was a great hunter, but very well fed by my mom.  Yet he brought home birds and mice and all sorts of critters on a regular basis.  He hunted for the fun of it, I’m convinced.  He hunted to stave off boredom.  He hunted because it was what he was wired to do.  And he kept on hunting despite the chunk of ear an angry blue jay took out of him one day as he climbed the tree and approached her nest.  I don’t think he caught any birds that day!

Most of the hunting, or bullying, that we face as adults is of the sort I described earlier.  It is not life threatening, but rather it is a show of dominance.  This is common in the animal kingdom.  Each species has its own way to establish dominance, whether it is a grand display of plumage, locking horns in non-mortal combat until the rival is driven away from the herd, or rearing back on hind legs to threaten the rival into laying on its back, demonstrating its submission.  Humans, at our antisocial worst, strive for dominance in all kinds of ways, sometimes aggressive, often passive aggressive.

Our mindfulness practice can make us very skilled to be aware in the moment when this is happening.  Recognizing the signs of fear arousal as they occur, we can often see the show of dominance, the attempt to force submission, especially when it is in a social context, but also when it is an exchange between strangers, such as the driving or marketplace examples I cited earlier.  And being aware that this is happening opens options for us, especially the “freeze” option.  As we mindfully notice the elevation, the bodily arousal of fear, our minds accept this fear and assert that this attack is “not about me.”  (Caveat: if the attack is an existential threat, an attempt at bodily assault, fight or flight is called for).  In that moment one is able to mindfully return to a calm state.  One is able to bring compassionate regard to the bully, and not be reactive.  I’ve seen this happen, and I’ve seen the result: the predator eventually loses interest.  This freeze response, standing in plain sight, refusing to react by running or fighting back, simply regarding the assault with non-judgmental awareness, is not what the predator expects.  In a way it takes the fun out of the bullying, heightens a sense of boredom in the bully, and renders the “attack” into a useless waste of energy.  She doesn’t get the rise out of you she wanted, so she goes away.  He doesn’t get the submission from you he needs because of his own ego deficits, so he turns his gaze elsewhere.  His angry stare recedes; she looks for someone else to badger.  And you never lost your  equanimity, and your sense of internal stillness remains intact.

Mindfully freezing is one response to the shows of dominance we come across.  If you have someone in your life who can get under your skin, consider a mindful response.  Aware in the moment, accepting the wisdom of our bodies, allowing compassion to arise, finding a skillful response that sets the boundaries where they need to be set, but does not seek to assault, damage, embarrass, or otherwise hurt the offender.  This refusal to return anger for anger, hatred for hatred, seeking an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, can bring an end to the little battles and wars we wage daily.  Our mindful presence can be the center of gravity in the room, one that can ground ourselves in peaceful solutions, engage our friends to be curious about our calmness, and even occasionally prompt a predator to wonder about our strength and resilience.  As Paul Newman’s classic character Luke Jackson says in the film Cool Hand Luke, “sometimes nothing is a real cool hand.”  That “nothing” is not a bluff, but rather a demonstration that the show of dominance is an empty gesture, and we refuse to become engaged in playing a hand in another person’s card game of suffering.  Then “nothing” becomes our strength, and we realize there was no battle to fight, there was no war to win, just a frightened ego caught in its own illusion that it has to show dominance in order to be real.  There is no dominance, there was no ego, and in their place compassion can arise when we attend to the wisdom of our bodies and minds.

Peace,

Jim

It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to sit at this computer and compose a few words that touch on being mindful, living mindfully, trusting the wisdom of our bodies and minds.  This will be brief, but it will be a chance to start over again.

I do not play chess.  I learned how to play years ago, but it never sank in and I did not pursue the game.  It’s a great game, and I wish I had some skill in this area.

But I do know one thing about chess: in order to defend your king, you need to use your queen to full advantage.  And if you lose her, you’re very likely to lose all.  You must attack with her, but at the same time defend her to the end.  She has the most power, and if you do not pay attention to her and protect her zealously, you will likely lose all.

In Christianity the Holy Spirit is understood as the gift of God that brings full life to each of us.  From the Holy Spirit flows grace, the gratuitous largesse of a compassionate and ever-creating God.  The Holy Spirit, in Christianity, is a feminine principle.  She brings you to a new life, creates a new heart in  you, nurtures you and helps you grow.

For a Christian, the Holy Spirit is your Queen.  And the life she has brought to you, and continues to bring to you, must be protected zealously.  If you ignore her, if you do not defend her with great attention, then you risk losing all.  It’s too high a price to pay.

In Christianity, Jesus tells a parable of the ten virgins (Matthew Chapter 25).  It goes like this:

“At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. ² Five of them were foolish and five were wise. ³ The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them. ⁴ The wise ones, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps. ⁵ The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep.

⁶ “At midnight the cry rang out: ‘Here’s the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’

⁷ “Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. ⁸ The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.’

⁹ “‘No,’ they replied, ‘there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.’

¹⁰ “But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.

¹¹ “Later the others also came. ‘Lord, Lord,’ they said, ‘open the door for us!’

¹² “But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I don’t know you.’

¹³ “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.

Being mindful is “keeping watch.”  It is being ready, for you do not know the day nor the hour when the bridegroom, the object of your life, the Kingdom or Heaven itself, will arrive.  When the Holy Spirit arrives, when she brings you the new life you seek, the new life you know you must embrace, be ready, be awake!

The last act of a Zen monk before going to sleep is to chant thusly: “Life and death are of supreme importance.  Time passes swiftly and opportunity is lost.  Let us awaken, awaken!  Do not squander your life.”

Be awake.  Be ready.  You do not know the day nor the hour when your life will appear before you.  That one chance you may have, to lose it is like losing your Queen.  Keep watch.  Do not squander your life.

Peace,

Jim

In my previous post I spent some time discussing the relationship between Events, Affects, Behaviors, and  Cognitions.  Or, put more simply, that something happens, initiating (quite spontaneously) a bodily sensation (an emotion, drive, reaction), leading to the emergence of a behavior, followed by an explanatory thought.  If that were the entire picture of our minute to minute activities during the course of a normal day, then we would seem to be some sort of automata, driven as if programmed like a computer or a robot.

There’s more to the story, beginning with the nature of the explanatory thought.  Under many circumstances the process of event-driven behavior stops at the explanatory thought.  For instance, the traffic light ahead turns yellow, the urge to stop the car arises, my foot lifts to touch and press the brake pedal, and I think “better stop; hey I can check my text messages!”  Well, maybe better to ignore the text messages; the State Police might be watching!  But you get the point; there’s no need to think about much beyond the “better stop” thought.

But not all event-driven behavior is so simple.  And this is where our mindfulness practice can help us.  When mindful, one is able to notice the process as it unfolds.  Maybe at the point of the bodily and/or emotional arousal, maybe not until the behavior has commenced or even subsided; perhaps not until the explanatory thought has arisen.  But, when mindful, one does eventually notice what is going on.

I would like to focus on event-driven behaviors that lead to unpleasant emotional (affective) states.  It may seem a bit morbid to put my attention there, but it is the long-term effects of unpleasant emotional states that we’re more concerned about.  After all, when the event is pleasant, such as learning that your friend got the promotion she had been working so hard to earn, it is joy that arises.  Your behaviors emerging from the joy are probably congratulations and well wishes, leading to thoughts that reflect on how wonderful it is for your friend to have this achievement and how lucky you are to have such a wonderful friend.  You hardly want to alter THAT experience.  But when the event is some kind of loss, or threat, or violation, the feeling that arises is unpleasant, along the lines of sadness, or fear, or anger.  Each of these unpleasant emotions lead to certain kinds of behaviors, such as crying and withdrawal when sad, fight/flight/freeze when afraid, or aggressive when angry.  These feelings and behaviors are quite ordinary, a normal part of our lived experience.  And they’re not inherently unhealthy, as there is a time and place for feeling sad, afraid and angry.

But sadness, fear, and anger, when perpetuated, can be a health risk.  We know that persistent stress leads to a host of medical and psychological maladies, including ulcers, colitis, headache, reduced immune function, depression, anxiety, and addiction.  How is it that these normal and healthy emotions can perpetuate to the point where they threaten our health?  This is where we must turn our attention to the explanatory thought, and specifically to one kind of explanatory thought, emotional reasoning.

When we feel an emotion it stands to reason that the first set of thoughts that arise would be consistent with the emotion.  We hear bad news, feel sad, and think along those lines.  For instance, when I learned that my dad was diagnosed with cancer I felt sad, and immediately began to think about what life would be like for him as he went through chemotherapy, the strain it would put on my mother, the anguish that would be felt by me, my sister, my mother and extended family and friends as we watched this man that we love endure this trial.  This way of thinking, that is congruent with the feeling that I was having, can be named as “emotional reasoning.”  And there’s nothing wrong with emotional reasoning; like the emotions it emerges from, it is quite normal and rather ordinary.  But there is a problem with emotional reasoning if it is the end of the story: since emotional reasoning emerges from the felt emotion, it tends to support and sustain the feeling of that emotion.  And that’s what can lead to diminished health responses associated with sustained stress.

The practice of mindfulness allows us to become aware of our emotional reasoning very easily and rapidly.  As with all mindful activity, the key to mindful awareness is to be non-judgmental about the object of awareness, in this case the emotions arising and the emotional reasoning that goes with it.  Note that we’re focused here on embodied mental activity, not on the event itself.  By focusing on embodied mental activity, we create the space for the next chapter in mindful living, perspective taking, which will be the topic of my next post.

Peace,

Jim