Author: Jim Walsh

When we meditate we seek to focus the mind on the breath.  This takes great effort.  The mind wanders, necessarily, as the mind is conditioned to cling to aliveness, and must wander to assess for any potential threat to its continued existence, leading to a state of anxiety.  The anxiety of living is proportional to our history of exposure to threat, real or perceived.  This anxiety is omni-present, and the root of the wandering mind.  As we focus the mind this anxiety lessens of its own accord.  At the same time, as our anxiety lessens, whether through reason or experience, the capacity for the mind to remain focused strengthens.

When the mind is focused it has reached a state one can call ordinary mind.  As the mind nears this state, the diminishment of anxiety and its concomitant behavior, clinging, feels rather extraordinary, and the mind may even conjure up images and bodily feelings and suppositions that seem rather extraordinary in response to this progression.  Do not be deceived by these seemingly extraordinary occurrences, which are simply mental (neurobiological?) artifacts of the process of letting go.  An ordinary mind finds itself in a state of comfort and ease, and knows there is no need to pursue any other mind state.

When we meditate we often feel quite pleasant.  This is in large part due to the activation of the parasympathetic nervous system as our minds become more and more focused on a single object, whether the breath or some other object of attention (i.e. the sensation of stretch when doing yoga).  This pleasant body state in turn encourages the meditator to both formal and informal meditation practices with greater frequency and commitment.  However the process of meditation will often lead to realizations of the workings of the mind, which may include rather unpleasant memories, thoughts, and bodily affects.  All of these unpleasant mental objects can be worked with, but sometimes the meditator will experience these events as some kind of failure of the meditation session.  With this mindset the meditator may declare meditation itself a failure, or, perhaps worse yet, rededicate him/herself to having pleasant meditation experiences.  Neither alternative is helpful; to avoid meditation all together leaves one bereft of this pathway to the ordinary mind and freedom, and the pursuit of pleasant experiences in meditation builds new illusions about the nature of things and can actually become a form of servitude to another form of clinging.

The ordinary mind is free.  It knows no boundaries, as it can turn toward all experiences with equanimity, whether those experiences are pleasant or unpleasant.  The ordinary mind responds to living experiences with expansiveness, as it has seen all possibilities in the hours it spends in meditation and joined awareness with acceptance.  Stated more clearly in his “Asian Journal,” Thomas Merton spoke of ordinary mind when he wrote:

…There is no puzzle, no problem, and really no “mystery.”  All problems are resolved and everything is clear, simply because what matters is clear.  The rock, all matter, all life, is charged with dharmakaya*…everything is emptiness and everything is compassion.

Peace,

Jim

*Sanskrit for the “cosmical body of the Buddha,” interpreted as referring to that which is most essential in all beings.

Last week I was in western Maryland to provide two days of training to mental health professionals interested in learning how to help men and women mired in gambling, an addiction now referred to as “Gambling Disorder” in the DSM-5, the American Psychiatric Association’s classification system of psychopathology.  Gambling Disorder is becoming increasingly common in the United States, and in many other countries, as governmental jurisdictions legalize gambling venues and activities.  Paraphrasing a famous statement in the movie Field of Dreams, “If you build it, they will come.”  When new gambling ventures become available, rates of Gambling Disorder in the area increase accordingly.

In the course of my conversations with the professionals in these training sessions, the word “stewardship” came up.  It’s an appropriate word, I think, to consider when looking at this sort of addiction.  A steward is one who is appointed to take care of something of value, perhaps to manage the wealth of another, or the well being of a loved one.  Throughout history stewards have held positions of great respect, often entrusted to act independently for the benefit and welfare of one not present or without power or the capacity to control.  To be a steward means to be a person of high character, strong moral bearing, and trustworthiness.  It is an honorable title.

The person mired in Gambling Disorder has an addiction in which he is no longer a steward of his material well being.  He has fallen into the trap of squandering his goods for the sake of a temporary feeling that may include anticipation, excitement, or joy.  At other times the person with Gambling Disorder seeks to dissociate from feelings that are unpleasant, or even very painful.  At its worst, the gambling behavior has become a flight to a sense of ego self that is false, based on narcissistic fantasy rather than gentle acceptance.  Whatever the ends sought by the gambler, he allows his wealth, his mind, and his spirit to dissipate and, in time, collapse into ruin.

It always occurs to me when working with persons with Gambling Disorder that they have lost sight of being stewards of their minds, and this, I believe, is their greatest loss.  Our minds are unique; very rare is it that a sentient being has self awareness, or mindedness.  We are able to not only know, but we are able to know that we know.  Our capacity as a species for self awareness allows for insight into the nature of our suffering, our joy, our being.  This self awareness, directed at the activity of mind and body with compassion and understanding, is the basis of our mindfulness practice.

When we become mired in our own versions of suffering, our minds and our bodies are damaged.  The pain of life emerges, inevitably, and we easily fall into the trap of demanding that life be on our own terms, always pleasant, at least by our definitions, always congruent with our own intentionality.  Yet life is rarely this way, and we suffer for the differences.  Our clinging to these delusions is the source of the suffering, and meanwhile the pain of life lingers unmet and unresolved, leading to another round of aversion and judgment, and more suffering.  As this suffering perpetuates our bodies respond with tremendous stress reactions, causing damage to our organic self, and our minds sink further and further into distress.

The way you practice mindfulness, both formally (in your practice of meditation, whether sitting, walking, mindful yoga…) and informally (staying awake in each present moment without judgment) is an act of stewardship for your mind and body.  As you practice radical noticing, radical awareness of breath, and radical acceptance, your body stands down and relaxes, and your mind is free to see with clarity, with wisdom, and with compassion.  This simple activity, even if only practiced formally for five or ten minutes, is the care taking of the person who is steward of his/her mind and body.  Please, when you find yourself thinking “I just don’t have time to sit” consider the alternative, the damage that mindlessness causes, and wonder if “I can afford to NOT sit today!”  If you are not a steward of your mind, who will be?  Can anyone other than yourself be this steward?

Don’t delay!  Take to heart the admonition of the Zen night chant:

“Life and death are of supreme importance.

Time passes swiftly and opportunity is lost.

Let us awaken

awaken….

Do not squander your life.”

Peace,

Jim

Last month my wife and I escaped the dreariness of winter on the east coast of the USA to sunny southern California for 9 days.  Not that either of us was sinking into a depression, but I think that as we age we’re noticing that the dark days of winter lend themselves to a sinking of mood, energy, and motivation.  We held up well through January, but by early February we were in need of a break, and decided to visit our son and daughter in law in a sunnier clime.

On our fifth day out west we discovered a small coffee shop and bakery called “Our Daily Bread.”  It was a delightful spot to sit and sip a cup of tea, munch on a pastry, and loll about.  Our conversation often turned philosophical, as we looked back at the blessings the years have brought to us and wondered about the years to come, as we age (gracefully, we hope) and enjoy our adult children and our grandson (to be joined by siblings and cousins, we hope again!).

Reflecting our life together, we know that we’ve avoided one of Buddhism’s three poisons, greed.  Selfish craving is at the heart of suffering, a truth found across all religious landscapes and philosophical systems.  Selfish craving, which arises from our ignorance, another of the three poisons, results from our unwillingness to accept life on life’s terms.  Greed is the desire that life be something other than what it is, and is by no means limited to simply living for more and more material goods.  It runs much deeper: it is the insatiable desire to have things just the way we believe (falsely) they MUST be.  There are many manifestations of greed, and the most pernicious are very subtle.  Most of us recognize greed for material things, but we can easily miss our greed for life to be “better” than it is, and not hurt at all.  For instance, as we age, our aches and pains and creaky limbs can easily be experienced with aversion (or hatred, the other of the three poisons), leading to the arousal of a fundamental and profound dissatisfaction with the conditions of life.  Add in the loss of family and friends to aging, illness, and death, and our greed can become the seed for a hellish hatred of life, leading to untold suffering.

One antidote to greed, or selfish craving, is found in the profound simplicity and wisdom of Christendom’s greatest prayer, The Lord’s Prayer.  I have cherished this oration since my catechism classes in parochial school, and recited it with devotion and an ever evolving understanding every day for most of my life.  This prayer begins with a simple declaration of the truth of God’s existence: “Our Father, who art in heaven.”  The verb “to be” is invoked, in the present tense, immediately informing us that God simply IS.  Do not waste your time in speculation about God’s nature, God’s time, and God’s attributes; that’s just an invitation to go down the path to profound ignorance.  Simply inhabit a world in which God IS.  The prayer goes on to express the aspiration for God’s presence (“thy kingdom come, thy will be done”), after reminding us that God’s name is hallowed, not to be known, not to be uttered.  After these simple yet profound declarations, The Lord’s Prayer tells us how to live our lives, and in doing so echoes the truths taught to us by the Buddha about the three poisons that lead to suffering.

“Give us this day Our Daily Bread.”  I know I’ve recited these words many thousands of times, and have learned that it is important to say them mindfully.  What is my “Daily Bread” anyway?  For me, it’s come to mean the simple necessities of life and the means to earn and provide them.  Shelter from the elements.  Nutritious food, prepared well and without ostentation.  Clothing appropriate to my duties and activities.  Beyond shelter, food, and clothing, an automobile to take me to the places I must go, some books to read, some music to enjoy.  Loving contact with friends and family.  The acceptance of simple pleasures, eschewing shows of wealth and illusions of superiority.

“Our Daily Bread” is living life simply.  It is allowing satisfaction with life to emerge, knowing that life may be pleasant or unpleasant, easy or difficult, sometimes all of these conditions at the same time.  “Our Daily Bread” is living life as it happens, shaping it with compassion (the antidote to hatred/aversion) and wisdom (the antidote to ignorance), but also allowing life to shape me.  “Our Daily Bread” is the faith that life will shape me in the ways I must be shaped, teaching me generosity (the antidote to greed), compassion and wisdom.  “Our Daily Bread” is a commitment I can make each morning and evening, a commitment to living life centered on interrelatedness.  Perhaps Francis of Assisi said it best with his famous prayer:

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace;

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is discord, harmony;

Where there is error, truth;

Where there is doubt, faith;

Where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

And where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, Grant that I may not so much seek

To be consoled as to console;

To be understood as to understand;

To be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Try bringing the sense of living “Our Daily Bread” to your mindfulness practice. Perhaps form a daily intention to recognize “Our Daily Bread” moments throughout the day.  If you do, you may find that you’re surrounded by a multitude of bakers, all waiting to serve you your daily bread!

Peace,

Jim

As I hear myself speak, so I come to believe

We had some freezing rain overnight last night in this area, leaving a slick coat of ice on paved surfaces.  At about 6:30 am I gingerly tiptoed across my driveway to pick up the newspaper, and was happy when I made it safely back to my front door.  Of course it is February in the northeast section of the USA, and this is typical weather for mid winter here, so nobody should be surprised.

By 10 am the temperature had risen above freezing, and the roads were quite safe to drive.  So I headed off to the bank to do a transaction, then it was off to the dentist for some drilling.  But what got my attention was the brief conversation I had with the bank teller when I was making my deposit.  She stated “what a bad day it is!” as soon as I arrived at her window.  I replied “well, it’s not too bad, the sun has come out, it’s cold of course but after all it’s February.”  She continued “it’s awful, and the roads are quite dangerous.”  Again I replied by saying “I’m sure they were earlier, but the sun is out and they’re quite safe now to travel.”  She then gave me a list of accidents she had heard about on the radio, insisted it was all terrible, and then went about the business of adding up the value of the checks I was depositing and completed the transaction.

Years ago I read a fun little book called “Illusions,” by Richard Bach.  I think it’s out of print but if you can find a copy you might want to buy it, as it is quite thought provoking.  The book is about a reluctant savior named Donald Shimoda, who carries with him a “Messiah’s Handbook,” which is filled with aphorisms.  One of them I’ve never forgotten:  “Argue for your limitations and sure enough, they’re yours.”  Oh, how true I have found this to be.  In my work as a Pastoral Counselor I’ve met so many people who were completely convinced of their own ineptitude, lack of willpower, and complete inability to be in any way socially appealing to any other person.  Most of the time these regular folks were quite intelligent, skilled, and attractive.

So this I have learned: as I hear myself speak, so I come to believe.  In working with people in therapy I have realized that those who think lowly of themselves are so trapped because they attribute their perception of their limitations to be an issue of character, rather than an issue of a skill that can be learned.  Just recently a person told me about being a hopeless procrastinator.  This perception of self caused such a downturn in his/her emotions, it was palpable to any observer.  And the more this person repeated “I’m a procrastinator” and illustrated “proof” of the idea, the more his/her emotions turned into sadness and shame.  But the truth of the matter is that self-efficacy, the opposite of procrastination, is a skill that can be learned, beginning with recognizing the mental antecedents to lethargy, and applying the antidotes that arise from our capacity to reason.  The more this person spoke about these mental antecedents, and considered the antidotes of reasoning, the more he/she realized that it wasn’t a matter of character, it was a matter of developing a new skill, something that actually could be done.  Character is difficult to change, but new habits and practices can be acquired.

When we speak of ourselves and the world in which we are immersed, the words we use and the ideas we articulate not only express the workings of our inner world, but become a feedback loop which influences our inner world as well.  Narratives repeated become narratives believed.  It was recently revealed that Brian Williams, a newscaster for the National Broadcasting Company (NBC) in the USA, has greatly exaggerated the dangers to which he was exposed while covering combat in Iraq several years ago.  I wonder if he, himself, had come to believe those stories after telling them so many times?

Be mindful of your words.  Listen closely when you’re speaking of even the simplest matters, like your perception of whether it’s a good day or a bad day.  I believe the bank teller I met today was simply repeating the conditioned mantra that many buy into: if it’s not a “perfect” day (i.e. clear, sunny, lightly breezy, moderate temperature) then it’s a “bad” day.  And I have no doubt that she came to believe that today is a bad day, and I can’t help but wonder how that perception, becoming a “heard” truth, becomes a “felt” truth that pervades her ways of feeling and being.

Be mindful of your words.  Gandhi put it more eloquently than me:

Your beliefs become your thoughts,

Your thoughts become your words,

Your words become your actions,

Your actions become your habits,

Your habits become your values,

Your values become your destiny.

Be mindful of your words.  Those words become your actions, habits, values, and destiny, but your words are also the royal road back to your thoughts and beliefs, when those words are chosen mindfully.

Peace,

Jim

Love what is.

I can wait for “what is” to become “what I want it to be,” but in the meantime I’ve lost an opportunity to enjoy the outcomes of loving.

If loving is the foundation of human satisfaction, which I believe is true, then waiting for “what I want it to be” to finally occur means I cannot ever be satisfied, because I am never ready to love.  And I am now the author of my own unhappiness.

Spirituality is a way of being in the world, and its foundation is mindful awareness: experiencing “what is” without judging.  When judging is absent, then “what is” can be seen with clarity, and the capacity to love whatever “it” happens to be is realized.  It isn’t up to me to make “what is” into “what I want it to be.”  I simply have to notice it, right now, without judging it, in order to be in a state of love.

Love what is.  Not in order to make the “what is” into “what I want it to be,” especially if “what I want it to be” involves another human being who may not treat me particularly well.  I intend to “love what is” for my own happiness.  And with my loving may come the serendipity of the unintended but beneficial consequence: someone else just might love me in return.

Peace,

Jim

PS  All of this was inspired by Denise.  Thanks!

For the past two months I have been thinking about, talking about, asking about, wondering about, “anything you can imagine about” spirituality.  I’ve been slicing it, dicing it, taking it apart, putting it back together, and like the proverbial jello one tries to nail to the wall, I just can’t make anything stick!

Don’t get me wrong.  I can give you a very erudite essay that details the data on spirituality, might even inspire you or cause you to shout “Eureka!”  I’ve written clever narratives, filled with impressive logic and insights.  But to quote a beloved elder and font of wisdom, it was all a bunch of “hooey!”

OK, here’s what I make of mindfulness and spirituality.  To be mindful means you’re right here, right now, and not judging “it,” whatever “it” is.  You are awake, aware, alert but relaxed.  You’ve fallen awake, and you now experience life with clarity because you know your own “stuff,” your conditioned responses and automatic thoughts and crazy relationship habits and patterns.  And you can notice this stuff when it happens and laugh about it (to paraphrase Rumi), meeting it at the door and letting it in because it may be preparing you for some new delight.

But is that spirituality?  I have come to this conclusion: I don’t know.  I just don’t really know what spirituality is.  I just know that when I’m awake, aware, not judging, life is so simple.  I get up in the morning, have a cup of tea, read, talk to my wife, look out the window, wonder where all those birds are flying to.  I walk, breathe, do some work.  Phone calls come; I answer them as well as I can.  Sadness emerges; it guides me, tells me what is important, and then it passes.  Joys arise; they too guide me, help me to see what is important, and then joy, too, passes.  Suffering is not permanent says Thich Nhat Hahn, so work to relieve it.  Happiness is not permanent either; work to nourish it.

To be spiritual is to see the universe with clarity, to know what is an artifice of your mind and what is a clear perception.  When one’s body is safe, feeling relaxed, and one’s mind can notice emerging events without bias or prejudgment, then one responds with skill, and the response inevitably has at least a tablespoon of compassion in it.

That’s it.  See life with clarity.  Be a person of compassion.  You can try to force fit your conditioned mind and body into reacting sanely and humanely, but it’s much less taxing to simply sit, breathe, notice, learn to not judge, and then find that your body/mind begins responding to life’s emerging events with loving clarity.  Spirituality is your way of being in the world, if you live mindfully.  You can cultivate mindfulness in the service of something other than insight and compassion (e.g. for some kind of achievement or special task), but if you have a good teacher who guides you to simply notice and not judge over and over again, you’ll end up finding the font of compassion within and you’ll be transformed into your face before you were born, the face that looked at the world with new eyes, beholding everything, rejecting nothing.  And ready to smile.

Peace,

Jim

What is a “spiritual” practice anyway?

I recently had a great conversation with my friend Larry about what it means to be a Pastoral Counselor, a professional identity that Larry and I share.  At the crux of the issue is the word “spiritual,” and what we mean when we say that word.  Our conversations, both in person and via email exchange were quite lively, one might even say spirited!  (pun fully intended).  Given that most of us include meditation within the rubric of spirituality, I thought I would opine on a few ideas about the word “spiritual” in hopes of stimulating further thought and reflection for anyone interested in the topic.

Looking at the definition of the word spiritual in the online Merriam-Webster dictionary, I’m not sure that the creators of this dictionary have any better idea on this than I do.  They start off safe, simply saying “of, or relating to, consisting of, or affecting the spirit.”  Well that doesn’t really settle matters, does it?  Then they go on to say “of or relating to sacred matters,” leaving us to wonder what is meant by “sacred.”  Their next two definitions lapse into religious ideation, with “ecclesiastical rather than lay or temporal” and “concerned with religious values.”  OK, I get it, being spiritual is related to being religious, but I still don’t really know what “spiritual” means based on all this.

Their final two definitions didn’t help either.  “Related or joined in spirit” still leaves one to define “spirit.”  How much different is that from defining “spiritual”?  And, finally, “of or relating to supernatural beings or phenomena.”  Well, now I’m really lost.  I see my life as a spiritual journey, but I haven’t met any supernatural beings on the road quite yet.  And, frankly, I’m with the old Buddhist expression that says “if you meet the Buddha on the road kill him.”  I guess I’m just not into looking outside of my own being for evidence of the spiritual.

So I turned to Google in hopes of finding something, anything, that might help me here.  So I searched on the terms “spirit hovered” and “ruah.”  I chose the term “spirit hovered” because it’s the first reference in the Hebrew scripture to “spirit,” found in the beginning of Genesis in reference to the first creation story.  And I chose “ruah” knowing that this anglicized spelling of the Hebrew word usually translates as spirit.  And wouldn’t you know it, the first “hit” on Google was to the Vatican website!  Well, maybe the Catholics know something about this, so I took a look.

At the Vatican website I found an essay titled “The Jewish ‘Roots’ of the Holy Spirit.”  Keeping in mind that Christianity has interpreted and reinterpreted Jewish scriptures for two millennia, sometimes for good and sometimes for ill, I proceeded cautiously.  As I read the text, it was clear that the Catholic point of view (and the Christian point of view in general) is that the Jewish scriptures are understood in light of the Christian revelations which come later.  But the article was clearly respectful, and actually helped me to see exactly how we might understand the word spiritual a little better by listing seven aspects of the word spirit.

First, the word spirit, in the context of the Jewish scriptures, is the translation of the Hebrew word ruah, which is properly translated as breath, air, and/or wind.  Second, spirit is seen as the source of ordering power; that is, that which transforms chaos into cosmos, disorder into order.  Third, spirit transforms dust into life, common clay becomes a human being with the infusion of spirit.  Fourth, spirit guides, brings counsel and power, along with wisdom and insight.  Fifth, spirit heals by allowing one to become a new creation, overcoming sin and restoring relations.  Sixth, spirit is universal, all humans (all creatures?) are filled and possessed by the spirit.  And seventh, the outpouring of the spirit leads to a feast, a celebration.  This celebration recognizes the gift of the spirit to all humans.

In the days and weeks to come I’d like to meditate a bit on these seven qualities of the spirit and hope to share some ideas about mindfulness and the spirit.  I like the idea that my meditation and commitment to mindful living are connected to these seven qualities.  More later, but for now notice your breath, come to know yourself in your sitting, and bring this transformational gift to all who you encounter in this ordinary time.

Peace,

Jim

Meditation can be a very pleasant experience.  We focus our attention, breathe with a regular rhythm, allow our bodies to “stand down” from the events of an often stressful day, and experience the body’s relaxation response.  The alert and relaxed body/mind feels great.  So what’s wrong with that?

Nothing!  We need the relief, and knowing that relief from stress is a breath away is a tremendous form of resilience.  Sometimes my day’s demands become overwhelming, and I can feel the fatigue encroaching like fog on San Francisco bay.  My neck gets sore and stiffened up, my stomach growls and I get a bit cranky.  It can be quite unpleasant!  But awareness of this depleted state arises and I take a mindful breath and feel relief.  My body lets go of “vigilance mode” and I begin to respond to my world instead of react to it.

Sometimes the pleasantness of the relaxation response can become seductive.  Considering how difficult life can get, that’s understandable.  Sitting in stillness, feeling very pleasant, your breath, your thoughts, your perceptions flowing along, not clinging, continuously noticing; it can be better than any narcotic.  But this is when you have to exercise caution and wisdom, because now it is so easy to make your meditations about getting something, getting that “good” feeling and getting rid of those “bad” feelings, and that can really throw you off.

That’s not what our mindfulness work is about.  Put simply, mindfulness is about staying present with whatever body/mind state we happen to have in this moment.  It may sound paradoxical, but simply having the intention to stay present with whatever IS in this moment, whether pleasant or unpleasant by our estimation, allows our body/mind to find its own equilibrium.  Right effort is often no effort, simply mindful awareness and attention.

Listen, I know that life is rough and each of us can get overwhelmed even on a good day.  And if you’re carrying the body memories of abuse, the pain of anxiety or depression, the encoded behaviors of addiction, the desire for relief can become enormous, and very difficult to resist.  That’s when your training must come into play.  Go back to the very basics of your practice.  Sit, sit with attention, follow your breath, notice the sounds while you breathe.  Mind will wander; that’s what minds do.  Notice the wandering, accept yourself as you are, breathe.  Notice the breathing.  Notice the sounds in the background, then mind wanders again.  Notice the wandering, come back to the breath………

And so it goes.  Our practice doesn’t come to an end point.  There is no end point.  There is only now.

Peace,

Jim

I am supervising Masters level students this semester who are doing their initial clinical counseling internships at community mental health centers.  This is a very stressful experience for these student-interns as most of them have never worked with people suffering from emotional, cognitive, and behavioral disorders.  The people who we work with have suffered terribly from any number of injuries to their bodies, minds, and spirits.  While it is true that there are a number of medications that can be helpful, it is rare that medication alone can resolve psychiatric problems.  And it is also true that there are a number of therapeutic interventions that can be helpful, but it is also rare that a particular form of therapy alone can resolve psychiatric problems.

The outcomes literature in our field provides insight into how we can help those we are called to serve.  The strength of the therapeutic relationship, often called the therapeutic alliance, is critical.  It turns out that most studies endorse that the most important predictor of good outcome in the treatment provided to people with psychiatric disorders is the extent to which our clients report that they felt connected to the therapist.  That connection with the therapist is best understood as an empathic, non-judgmental, authentic alliance.  This alliance is one in which the therapist seeks to deeply understand the inner experiences of the client (empathy), accepts the client as a person unconditionally (non-judgmental), and is personally transparent in ways that allow the client to know the therapist without the encumbrance of knowing the facts and situations of the therapist’s day to day life (authentic).  For those reading this essay who are in the mental health field you recognize the three core conditions of person centered counseling as articulated by Carl Rogers.  It turns out that Rogers was right; these core conditions are necessary for treatment to be successful.

Late in his life Rogers added a fourth condition, which he referred to as “presence.”  In one of his final articles, published in the Journal of Counseling and Development in May of 1985, he discussed this characteristic at length.  Here is an excerpt:

When I am at my best as a group facilitator or a therapist, I discover another characteristic.  I find that when I am closest to my inner, intuitive self, when I am somehow in touch with the unknown in me, when perhaps I am in a slightly altered state of consciousness in the relationship, then whatever I do seems to be full of healing.  Then simply my presence (italics in original) is releasing and helpful.  There is nothing I can do to force this experience, but when I can relax and be close to the transcendental core of me, then I may behave in strange and impulsive ways in the relationship, ways which I cannot justify rationally, which have nothing to do with my thought processes.  But these strange behaviors turn out to be right (italics in original), in some odd way.  At those moments it seems that my inner spirit has reached out and touched the inner spirit of the other.  Our relationship transcends itself, and has become a part of something larger.  Profound growth and healing and energy are present.

Rogers’ original three core conditions provide a roadmap for the experience of mindfulness meditation.  When we meditate, we are called to be authentic.  Our work is with the actual inner experiences that come into our awareness.  It is the opposite of denial; we face thoughts, feelings, images, sensations, perceptions etc. exactly as they are.  And in facing our inner experiences authentically we develop a deep empathy for those phenomena.  In a sense, when I meditate I truly “get” my self, I develop deep self awareness.  And my response to this authentic, empathic understanding is to be non-judgmental, even compassionate with my self, unceasingly willing to work and be with my self exactly as I am.  I believe that our mindfulness meditation is a form of person-centered work that we do with our selves, and the irony is that in so doing we transcend the “person” and learn to let go of clinging to the needs and drives of the ever voracious ego.

I believe that Rogers was right about this idea of “presence.”  I have come to experience that when I can sit in meditation authentically, empathically, and non-judgmentally, that a new awareness emerges.  And what is perhaps most precious about his awareness is that it is not in any way an extraordinary experience!  It is actually the most ordinary experience one can imagine, yet we fail to imagine it because we fail to allow ourselves the birthright of being authentic, empathic, and non-judgmental toward ourselves and those around us.

So come, sit, notice your breath.  Distractions arise and minds wander; so be it.  That’s what minds do!  Notice thoughts, feelings, sensations; all the things that run through the mind spontaneously.  Notice these mental phenomena authentically; simply “see” what goes on without any filter.  And then “get it;” come to understand the nature of your own mental phenomena.  And whatever it is, don’t judge it, and whether it’s painful or pleasant allow yourself to feel compassionate for your self.  And as you deepen your person-centered connection with your self, notice something else emerging.  At first slowly, but in time quite palpably.  You are fully present!

Peace,

Jim

PS One additional thought, please.  As we experience presence in our meditation lives, then the people we meet in the ordinary encounters of the ordinary day will begin to experience our presence as well.  And if that encounter is an ordinary counseling session, then the person with whom we sit will feel our presence.  And from this presence can emerge the healing actions, whatever they might be, that are needed at that particular moment.

We live in a world that somehow has forgotten how to say “you’re welcome.”  Try this: listen to or watch an interview on radio or television, or a podcast, and at its end the interviewer will usually say “thank you.”  Notice how often the interviewee says “thank you” in return, rather than “you’re welcome.”  It’s odd, from my perspective, to say the least.  “Thank you” means that you’ve given me something I needed or wanted.  In this example the interviewer has been given something by the interviewee, not the other way around.  I realize that the interviewee may have gotten something in return (a payment, publicity for his/her book…) but isn’t “you’re welcome” more appropriate to say than “thank you”?

When I say “you’re welcome” what I’m telling you is that what I gave, I gave gladly.  That the process of giving was a gift to me also.  “You’re welcome” signifies that there’s no need to return anything, no need to reciprocate.  I’m telling this person that I was happy to do the service or give the goods, and did so willingly, freely, without expectation of return.  In other words, “you’re welcome” is a way of saying “this is about relationship, not transaction.  I give because I want to give, and I want to give to YOU.”

One cannot say “you’re welcome” sincerely without giving freely.  One’s giving must reflect unconditional caring about the person who is receiving.  Any other circumstance, any other motivation, means that “you’re welcome” isn’t appropriate.  Yes, we say “you’re welcome” at the end of most transactions, but the “you’re welcome” isn’t saying that the transaction itself was unwarranted, but rather that I entered into the transaction with only one intention: a fair exchange done as well as I could.

When you’re in a relationship, of whatever kind, in which you are expected to perform any action that is a service to another person, do it in the spirit of “you’re welcome.”  Even if you are going to be compensated for the action, still, do it with the intention to give and give completely.  You’ll be pleasantly surprised at how pleasant the action becomes, however unpleasant you might have perceived it previously!  And the receiver of your action will experience your act as one of caring, will feel that caring, and will experience that most precious of human feelings, gratitude.  By performing your acts with the intention of “you’re welcome” you are creating wellsprings of gratitude in the world, wellsprings that evolve into the spirit of “you’re welcome” in the actions of another.  Try it; you’ll like it!!

Peace,

Jim