Sunday, October 28, 2007, 01:53 PM
You may have heard me describe our human nature with the image of the vast blue sky and the warm sun. The vast blue sky implies a sense of open space that includes our infinite potential. The sun implies qualities of warmth, clarity and the capacity for seeing what is there. The clouds of everyday life pass in and out of existence. Imperturbable, the sky is never fundamentally affected by these temporary phenomena. Together the sky and the sun form a picture of our True Nature or True Self: warm, open and clear. Our challenge is to welcome the clouds without forgetting who we are.
By welcome I don’t mean liking the situation, ignoring our pain or denying our disappointments- I mean ‘bowing’ to the reality of the moment ‘as-it-is’. Let’s say you have a headache or heartache. Skillfully opening to the reality of the moment includes not liking it, perhaps wishing life were different AND, in the end, placing greater weight on the reality than on your preference. This is the fundamental skill to living an awakening life.
Recently, I had two students come to me with radically different approaches to their life situation. Maria (names are changed) was experiencing severe pain in her back that was preventing her from doing most of the activities that she really enjoyed. In addition to stopping her beloved running/ biking program most disturbing was the fact that she could not pick up her child. Perhaps more painful than her back were the incessant thoughts like: “how long would it last?”, “what if this never changed?”, “what if I get fat?”, “this is not fair, “I hate this”. I suggested to Maria that she pause for a moment, turn her attention inward and feel her next breath, the sensations of support from her chair and then stand back from the pain observing the sensations from a bit of distance. She found this very relieving, as if discovering that there was more to her than just the pain. When I asked her to do the same thing with her thoughts, she found it much more challenging. Eventually, with guidance, she was able to say: “Oh, yes, there is the thought ‘what if this never changes?’ and there is my body’s reaction to that thought. This capacity to see the “clouds”, to accept them WITHOUT IDENTIFYING herself with the sensation or thought was very liberating.
While William also had debilitating back pain, his strategy for dealing with it was in many ways opposite to Maria’s. He came into my office and talked about his back as if it was an object in the world completely separate from himself. He wanted ‘it’ it to get better and for me to fix ‘it’. When I asked him to describe where he felt the pain, his response was in very general terms like someone pointing into a black hole and saying ‘in there some where’. When I asked about the quality of the sensation, he could only use words like “pain” and “bad”. As I inquired into whether the sensation was on the surface or deep, hot or cold, sharp or dull, etc., he began for the first time to turn inward toward the actual experiencing of the these sensations. Amazingly, he began to feel a sense of relief as he became intimate with the living reality rather than the general concept called ‘pain’. This capacity to sense into the reality of the moment without disassociating himself from it was very liberating.
With Maria and William we can recognize the two great tendencies of the human mind: to identify the Self with the current condition and/or to lose contact with the living reality of the moment and get lost in thought. The first strategy leaves us with the feeling of dependence upon the quality of the external situation for our happiness. We can often feel victimized by others, by life, by G-d or simply by circumstances. The second leaves us feeling removed from life, somehow unable to sense closeness and intimacy; true meaning and depth are impossible. Both of these strategies create confusion, separate us from our true nature and hence result in suffering.
Now it would be erroneous and naďve to think that returning to connection with our Self is always enjoyable. As long as we have bodies, minds and intimate relationships pain will arise at times. Our great existential power is that we are not required to have the ‘pain of pain’ which is a good definition of suffering. We really can end this war with life. The blue sky and the warm sun do not come and go, they are always here, even when the clouds of pain, disappointment, depression, etc. block our view. As soon as there is even a small gap in the clouds, the blue sky is right there! What good news this is, just as even the darkest clouds never leave a trace on the sky so too, our True Self is never hurt or damaged by our life struggles. When we can remember who we truly are AND be a good host for our current situation then we are well on the way to awakening into “The Embodied Life”.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007, 03:02 PM
One of my earliest insights in this life of awakening revolves around the fundamental importance of ‘now-ness’- the living moment- as the most basic access point to intimacy with life. Without this immediacy, our experience becomes filtered, one step removed from its inherent vibrancy. Through sitting meditation, one learns to fall back into the ‘as-it-is’ of the moment. Amidst all the thoughts, plans, regrets, hopes, disappointments and expectations that the mind is constantly producing, basic sanity requires falling back into and befriending what the Zen world likes to call ‘as-it-is’.
It is the nature of a certain aspect of mind to keep this churning going, it is not actually a problem in itself. As Uchiyama Roshi would say, “just as the stomach secretes acid, the brain secretes thoughts”. No problem. When we learn to differentiate the helpful thoughts from the irrelevant ones and we no longer take the unhelpful thoughts seriously, we are well on our way toward a harmonious relationship with mind.
One image I often use is that of ‘stepping off the train of thought’. It’s as if the constant inner dialogue has its own momentum that is carrying us through life in a kind of separated or insular way. In the practice of stepping off the train, we interrupt the flow of inner verbalization and focus directly on some aspect of the present moment. For example, we can focus on three breaths from beginning to end. I recommend that my students pause five times a day and follow three breaths without interruption (maybe try it right now). If you take up this practice, don’t be surprised if the mind rebels vigorously against this interruption. Even thirty seconds can seem like too much to the ‘executive self’- that organizing aspect of our consciousness, sometimes called the ‘planner’ or the ‘doer’. The effect of this simple practice is often startling; the quality of the entire day is influenced.
The good news is that there is always the second train, the train of Being or True Self. It does not matter how deeply immersed we are in the story line of the moment, the second train is always right there. Stepping off one train IS stepping onto the other. On this we can rely! What truly good news this is. We don’t have to be good, smart, wise, enlightened or have twenty years of meditation experience- RIGHT NOW, stepping off the train of habitual thinking, we can return to presence.
From this picture it seems as if coming into the present moment requires stepping out of time. In one sense this is absolutely true, we must step into the eternal moment. Yet, it seems to me that this understanding is incomplete and can create great confusion. It is helpful if we explore ‘the all of it’.
The ‘all of it’ is an expression I use to convey the sense that the living moment includes the past, the present and the future. In fact, it includes all thoughts, feelings, images that live in the background of one’s moment. Nothing is left out and all is welcome. There is a rich complexity surrounding even the simplest of events. For example, my present moment includes the fact that I had tea and toast twenty minutes ago and that I need to be at an appointment in about an hour. It includes the fact that my daughter is away starting college, that I am wondering how she is and that my wife is also away and there is a longing to speak with her. These past, future and background events feed into the living experience of Now. To separate this moment in time from the gestalt of ‘the all of it’ in which it is embedded distorts it and creates an inherent conflict between: 1) the aspect of mind that is constantly creating a description/plan/judgment/narrative, 2) the reality of bodily life that is always influenced by past and future and 3) Being or True Self. The ‘all of it’ literally includes all of it. So this moment includes digesting that delicious toast, sensing a mild caffeine high from the tea, feeling a pull to dress for the appointment, the tingling expectation of talking with my loved one’s and being right here with fingers typing as I seek words to convey what I mean and why I think it is important.
I used to imagine that ‘being present’ involved a certain separation from all that was not physically contactable in the moment. There is something very incomplete and unreal in this picture. Without diminishing the vital significance of ‘as-it-is’, which emphasizes dedication to the “present moment”, we want to include ‘the all of it’- this rich embracing of our ever-changing living reality.
How wonderful it is that even with our addiction to certain mental/emotional/physical patterns, right now we can open to ‘as it is’ within the ‘all of it’ and through this openness uncover true freedom, joy and peace in this very moment. So again I invite you to a living experiment- 3 breaths 5 times today.
Monday, August 13, 2007, 01:52 PM
In this interview, Russell talks about freedom from the points of view of Moshe Feldenkrais and Buddha.
Click "Related Link" below to listen.
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Tuesday, June 26, 2007, 05:21 PM
My first profound meditation experience occurred on a beach in San Francisco after some years of practice. Sitting on a cushion made of sand, I was overwhelmed with the essential beauty, bliss and goodness of Life. All reservations, doubts, objections and arguments about ‘this and that’ were completely irrelevant- clarity, brightness and ‘all is just as it is, just as it must be’ rang true without thought, without hesitation. The first conscious impulse that arose from this experience was an immense longing, a hunger, to give something back. A resounding sound arose from the open space, “APPRECIATE” was the one word that echoed forth.
This story is not intended to convey any sense of personal attainment- the path is endless and our addiction to this separate self runs almost as deep as our oneness with Life. Everyday attachment to certain desires greets me like my face in the mirror. My purpose is to express my essential understanding about the importance and basic joy of GRATITUDE.
Most of us know this sentiment when something unexpectedly positive happens. When the rain predicted on your wedding day yields to a bright, blue sky, a spontaneous “thank you” arises. When someone sees you hurrying and offers their place in line, this feeling comes naturally. Many of us also know the glow of being in love or simply “in the flow” where our basic joy includes a constant sense of being graced by life. Often this experiencing is accompanied by the inner feeling that says: “I am so blessed”.
Can deep appreciation occur without unexpected, special or ‘big’ events?
Can one practice appreciation and have it feel natural?
Is there significant value in such a practice?
Is Gratitude one of the most important and underappreciated of human/spiritual experiences?
Early in my meditation history a very simple, ordinary experience began to occur. After sitting for 30 minutes, a time filled mostly with a ‘monkey mind’ full of thoughts, plans, conversations, etc., I would arise with an altered sense of time and perception. Little things, the light in the room, the shape of a lamp, the feeling of the air on my skin would, for a short while, seemed strangely satisfying. It was as if I did not need anything else beyond what was happening in the moment to be content. This sense of satisfaction became conscious after a meditation in which ‘just’ feeling my breathing was ‘enough’. After this I remember the thought, “if I can be happy/peaceful/satisfied ‘just breathing’ than I can have these experiences at almost any moment. Implicit with this satisfaction was a sense of appreciation, of simple gratitude for living. In experiences of dissatisfaction I noticed that appreciation was completely absent, as if my agenda/desire/goals were too thick to be penetrated by the simple gifts of that moment. The question arose as to whether attentiveness to gratitude could be a doorway to contentment. Could appreciation (and hence satisfaction) be intentionally cultivated through a practice of attention?
My next observation came within the context of my Feldenkrais work. It was 1978, in the early days of my practice, when I began seeing a twenty-nine year old psychologist who had recently become quadriplegic from a freak car accident. Bound to a wheelchair without sensation below his chest and with minimal arm movement, he was my first student dealing with such a challenging situation who was also a peer. He taught me lessons in appreciation in at least three different ways.
First, after he would leave each session, I would consciously experience deep appreciation for simple capacities: standing was a pleasure, bringing a glass of cool water to my lips a joy, etc. Without any intention, it was as if I could appreciate these things for the two of us. After some months of working together, I realized that my initial sense of gratitude for the ordinary had faded. There was a painful sense of loss. After recognizing the sorrow of this forgetting, I discovered that it was possible to recover the sense of appreciation. Now that it was not spontaneous, three things were required: 1) a pause in my ‘doing’, 2) a conscious entering into the present moment and 3) a subtle invitation toward “thanks”. This invitation often feels like opening to something that is already there below the surface. How wonderful to learn that authentic gratitude can grow with intention and to realize that gratitude was almost always just a moment away!
The second way that my student and friend taught me was in his deep gratitude (after months of anger, depression, denial etc.) for small improvements that he was attaining. I remember so well his glowing face after the first time he could hold his baby in his arms. We cried together. One time, he actually was almost ecstatic to discover that he could scratch a place on his neck for the first time. “What freedom” he said and meant it.
The third avenue of appreciation that was revealed to me came through his authentic sharing of his journey: his pain, loss, fear, anger and, eventually, acceptance. On one level, I was spending time with my worst fear, as an athlete and a ‘mover’, to lose physical function terrified me. His willingness to be real and to allow me to be part of the recalibration of his life taught me insights of immense value. Theoretically, I suspected that one could live a satisfying life within almost any condition. Here I was observing someone walking that path. My intention here is not to paint a rosy story; this was and is an intensely challenging journey. Yet, like Viktor Frankl’s observations in the prison camps of Germany, the deep meaning and fulfillment of life is not pre-determined by our conditions. What a liberating realization!
As a Feldenkrais teacher for more than 30 years, I have met so many people dealing with potentially devastating losses. My gratitude to these people for the gift of sharing their journey is immense. Among many other things, I learned that one does not need to lose their eyes to deeply value seeing, nor their legs to appreciate walking. Also, I learned that when loss occurs there is always a potential gift that accompanies it. As Ram Das said to me as he was adjusting to life after his stroke, “when I remember to surrender, it is really delightful to be cared for and carried by others, I feel graced”. Grace, both as a gift (to be graced by) and as a quality (to move with grace) is intimately tied to gratitude.
To what do we offer this gratitude? Think of the wonderful ritual of saying grace before meals. To what do we direct our gratitude. Some give thanks to God, others to Life, Nature, the Nameless or the All. Though each has a distinct flavor, the fact that one does not take the gift for granted but completes the exchange with a heartfelt ‘thanks’ seems most important. The specific direction of the gratitude is much less significant than the sentiment.
Gratitude requires a pause, a moment of ‘stepping off the train’ of thought, to stand back. This can happen at any time. For example, right now, if you pause in your reading, sense yourself sitting, breathing, hearing, seeing, is there anything that you feel grateful for right at this moment? {Perhaps pause in your reading}
Now, think of all the beings who are supporting you in known and unknown ways. For example, imagine all the people who helped to bring your last meal. The farmers, storekeepers, truck drivers. Think of the interplay of sun, rain, earth, human labor, your bodily capacities for digestion, etc. that allow you to stay nourished. If any of these were missing you would be hungry, perhaps desperate for food.
Why is gratitude so important? Perhaps more than anything, inherent in gratitude is the sense of connectedness to other(s). We are lifted out of our delusion of separation. All of our unnecessary suffering is based in the mistaken identification with an isolated self. From a spiritual or transcendent perspective this is the most important question for humanity. Can our sense of self grow to include the other(s) and eventually to include all apparent other(s)? For me, a most accessible road to the heart of the matter is to remember the gifts that are constantly being showered upon us. This remembering, this valuing of the ordinary is always just one thought away.
Monday, May 7, 2007, 11:48 AM
Some months ago I wrote an article on the centrality of openness as a basic attitude or reference point for living. I used a phrase from phenomenologist Martin Heidegger: “Opening to the Openness”. Because of our habit of dualistic thinking, let me say that the openness I am speaking about must include the capacity for ‘closing’, creating a boundary, saying ‘no’. We are opening to the full experiencing of the living moment and that includes taking care of life as the situation requires. The main point is that we are responding to the actuality of the circumstances and not predominantly to our assumptions, fears, pictures, hopes, etc., though hopefully one includes these mental patterns as part of the totality.
The same confusion arises for people when they hear the word ‘acceptance’. For many the word has a passive, almost resigned attitude. The acceptance I am speaking of has a ‘standing up’, seeing what is true in the moment and responding from that reality. Acceptance has bite, like biting into an apple. It is an active engagement with life. Openness is like a ROAR not a whimper.
I once heard the following dialogue:
“If someone attacks you with a knife, do you just accept it?”
“Of course not. You relate directly with the situation. You protect life. But then how do you relate with the attacker. Do you beat them from anger and fear? What if your grandmother became insane and attacked you, would you just let her stab you? NO. But then what, would you beat her? Once you took the knife away, you would do your best to take care of her. This is what we mean by acceptance in a hostile environment”.
Most important, can you adopt this attitude toward your inner voices, the hostile critics who live within?
An early and important influence on my understanding was Tibetan teacher Chogyam Trungpa. He understood the western mind so well and was incredibly articulate in English. I will close with a quote about openness from this great being:
"The everyday practice is simply to develop a complete acceptance and openness to all situations and emotions, and to all people, experiencing everything totally without mental reservations and blockages, so that one never withdraws or centralizes onto oneself.
This produces a tremendous energy which is usually locked up in the process of mental evasion and generally running away from life experiences.
Clarity of awareness may in its initial stages be unpleasant or fear-inspiring; if so, then one should open oneself completely to the pain or the fear and welcome it. In this way the barriers created by one's own habitual emotional reactions and prejudices are broken down."
Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche
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