Tag: inquiry

The Guest House Part 2

On August 27, 2015

In Enquiry, Mindfulness, Positivity, Radiant Citta, Time, Space, & Knowledge

Kent: He doesn’t want to be alone. Being alone is really scary. If someone wants him, then he doesn’t feel all alone.

[Here we spent some time receiving the feelings and beliefs of the ‘child’ pattern. Uppermost were the feelings of abandonment, and of having no value. This, again, is an example of an erroneous concept; that is, that Kent’s well-being is dependent on how a childhood pattern (an ‘inner child’) versions him. Most people are victims of their unawareness of the power of such versions of themselves.

Then his inquiry shifted to a more existential level; that is, the child’s belief was that if he had ‘someone else’ – or even just had a longing for someone else – that would make him feel like he is a separate someone, “in here looking out.” (Delight, self-bias and dualistic perception.) Again, staying with his changes with kind, curious acceptance meant that the longing was able to move in him, and to change.

Notice that we can cling to the experience of having a longing. We cling for what such a desire can do for our ego functioning. That we are longing can feel pleasant, . This way, the longing plays a role in keeping ego structures in place. During inquiry, such longings can play the part of fending off the feeling of dying, which comes with one’s ego structures dissolving.

Now, in Kent’s session, a shift happened that was dramatic.]

Kent: He doesn’t want to be alone.

Christopher: He’s scared and alone.

Kent: Right. (Suddenly he draws a deep breath). Ooh! Holy cow! Oh, my God, that’s scary.

Christopher: Yes?

Kent: He feels he’s going to disappear!

[Definitely an erroneous concept, when it’s applied to the person, Kent. The person easily thinks that he’s going to disappear, at this point, if he is identified with the child.]

Christopher: Oh, I see. Interesting. Can you say more?

Kent: Well, if mum’s not there… then, who is he here, in here? (He has a intake of breath, and looks a little like he’s rising up the back of his chair.)

[Notice the strength, now, of the wilfulness, the desiring, and the wish to move away from unpleasant experiences (like and disliking); putting the person in conflict with himself and others.]

Christopher: So, to me, he looks like he’s moving away from something?

Kent: Yes, away from an engulfing emptiness; but the trouble is, the emptiness seems to be everywhere.

Christopher: So, ask him: “What’s so bad about the emptiness?”

Kent: Annihilation. He’ll disappear altogether.

Christopher: Oh, no wonder he is frightened, if that’s what he thinks. Let him know you can hear what he says.

(Wait for that step to happen.) Do you have a feel for which part of the body resonates with this feeling of empty everywhere?

[I invite him to bring his body into awareness – keeping him com-bodied (old term: embodied), so that mindfulness can happen. In this section we have a few examples of dichotomous thinking, of dualistic perception. For example, when Kent identified with the child processes, he is thinking about his life in terms of ‘I exist now’ and ‘I won’t exist in the next moment.’ This is a primary dualistic category: exist/not-exist. There is ‘something’ and ‘nothing,’ and these appear to the non-investigating mind to be irreconcilable. That’s because this emptiness is deficient emptiness (a term Almaas uses). When true emptiness is recognised, it is liberating because it exceeds opposites.

The next moves require courage of Kent’s part, which he has developed through his mindfulness and meditation practice, over the preceding couple of years.]

Kent: Actually, it feels like it’s right down the central channel.

[A yogi’s term, roughly equivalent of down the core of his body.]

Christopher: Great. Can you be aware of your legs, your hands, and your breathing, and include that sense of an emptiness down the centre of you?

Kent: (Silent, while he does what I suggest.) Yes, it’s weird… I know I’m here, but I don’t feel like I exist.

Christopher: Sounds like there’s a lot of space.

Kent: (He looks surprised by the suggestion and takes time to investigate.) Nothing but space! That’s it!

Christopher: Again, you’re okay about being a person, here, right? Breathing in and out. There is this body?

Kent: Yes. That’s okay. And I can feel the power in the centre. But, where is my self?

Christopher: There’s you the person, Kent, sitting in the chair. And you’re experiencing a lot of spacious awareness. And take your time… notice that the space is sensitive space, right?

Kent: (Silence for a couple of minutes.) Yes, I think so. Do you mean, like… there’s this light everywhere?

Christopher: Yes, that’s it. It’s a kind of knowing, but its special quality is that it lacks location. You would normally think you see from it, but here there’s no from, right?

[The dualistic thinking that can arise, here, is that appearance and space should not be the same. We should, the ego thinks, be in a space where there is here, there and in-between. However, this is actual experience, experience in the wild – it’s not experience shaped by logic, which has opposites. I keep him body-near, because the body doesn’t have opposites.]

Kent: That’s it! It’s nowhere.

Christopher: And, everywhere. So, relax into that spacious clarity, and tell me what happens next. Surrender into it.

Kent: (Silent for several minutes, then a relieved sigh.) It’s like golden love.

Christopher: Really? Love has arisen. How lovely. (Laughs)

Kent: (Quietly weeps, in a gentle, relieved kind of way.) Yes. It’s so very… (inaudible).

Christopher: (After a time, not to rush…) Is the love host or guest?

Kent: It’s me. I’m the love. It’s pervading everywhere. There’s nothing but love.

Christopher: It’s the host. Spend some time letting your body have that, that’s for sure.

“All appearances are change.”
When ones sees this through wisdom,
Then one forgoes the unsatisfying.
This is the path of purity.

“All appearances are unsatisfying.”*
When ones sees this through wisdom,
Then one one forgoes the unsatisfying.
This is the path of purity.

“All things are without self-substance.”
When ones sees this through wisdom,
Then one one forgoes the unsatisfying.
This is the path of purity.

*compared to spiritual freedom (nibbāna).

– Dhammapada, verse 277-279. Translated Christopher J. Ash

A Mandala Experience

By admin

On July 5, 2015

In Death, Enquiry, Memoir, Mindfulness, Practices, Radiant Citta

AN INQUIRY PROCESS
In this exercise, I used the mindfulness of the five sentient processes (Pāli: khandha; see last post). I also used a form of mindfulness that I practice, related to the Buddha’s teaching on Loka (which I‘ll write about another day.) In this particular mindfulness practice, the experience of ‘time, space, and knowing,’ come into play, and also the distinctions ‘above, below, all around and in the middle,’ come into play. But I won’t speak about those things now. Instead, I‘ll speak of my use of Richard Moss’ Mandala of Being process.

THE ‘MANDALA OF BEING’ TOOL
I must admit, I didn’t know how this was going to go. I had an idea, based on Richard Moss’ work, and I just gave it a go. He sets up a space where you stand in the middle spot of a five point mandala; with the middle position being yourself as you truly are, in the Now. Here you are not limited by stories, by narratives. The other four points are the storied positions: ‘me/subject’ on the left; the ‘you/object’ on the right; ‘the past’ behind; and, ‘the future’ in the forward position. You start with experiencing yourself completely grounded in the Now. I found this picture* on the net which might help you to visualise the process:

I don’t want to try to represent Richard Moss’ process, because I know I wouldn’t do a very good job of that, because I have more to learn about how he uses that structure. However, I played with it, as a part of my ‘A Year to Live’ practice, when investigating how the issue of death inhabits me, how it shapes my habits of body, speech and mind. I started in the Now, and using Voice Dialogue, I invited “Pure and Total Presence.” (from Tibetan master Longchenpa). In the centre, I could touch that freedom, that love. That part is the uncomplicated bit.

As I say, I was curious about the other four points, and didn’t know exactly what I’d find. As it turned out, it was very beautiful, and very helpful. I’ll describe what it turned out to be, rather than describing the fishing around process that I went through to get there. What emerged was a schema representing the shock I got in 1975, when I realised that there was no ‘separate me’ to be found behind my eyes looking out.

HOW IT WENT
On the left I stood in the position of the one who believes that the ‘I’ has some existence, and will die. He’s fearful, and attached to the five sentient processes. Remember: I was able to step back over to the centre, and refresh the open awareness and the compassion which I needed to hold his contractions, his anxiety. As I explored the intricate dynamics of that position, it was clear that clinging to the idea of a self-existent ‘I’ was at play, here; and, with that flowed the fear of not existing. I thought, then, that something about ‘not existing’ must be in the ‘you’ position. But first, back to the centre one more time, before inviting the right position. It was full of power and peace, in the middle.

I didn’t exactly know what kind of ‘you’ I was going to find over on the right side of the wheel, but generally knew it had something to do with the opposite of the angst of existence and death, which I found over on the left.

I explored two sub personalities here, as it turns out: both of whom, I found, were zoning out, but each quite differently. One was kind of la-la. This one would happily get lost in imagination, stoned, or whatever, and never think of existence or non-existence. This one, I sensed, would be a master of strategies of pleasure. He was very young.

Exploring the second ‘right-side-of-the-wheel sub-personality’ was a more powerful experience, and I stayed with it longer, and it, too, turned out to be related to that 1975 experience. This one was in a daze – a kind of gaping stare – in a trance of believing that he didn’t exist.

Imagine someone who thinks that they don’t exist, but are confronted with the fact that they are experiencing phenomena, experiencing life going on, anyway – and that this going-on includes a most perplexing phenomena: his own body. That was how it was for this one, and it describes how I was, for at least a year after that mid-seventies shock. I remember I used to sit staring at my hands, not understanding how there could be hands ‘there,‘ but no ‘me’ back here’ seeing those hands. How could that be?

It was a tough time, but in retrospect, a very valuable time, because I had no choice but to explore the whole thing of how the subject-object dualism happens. I was too far gone, to turn back to conventional reality.

For none of these positions – the angst-ing existence position, and two ‘zone-out’ positions – did I have to step back to the middle very much. Instead, I found myself holding the sentient process of each with a lot of love and awareness; not analysing, or trying to heal them away, or anything. It was more like: the middle came with me, to learn, heal, and love the delusions of each sub-personality.

I suppose that’s enough to give you an idea of what’s possible. I also explored the stories about the future and past, which come with this dichotomy of exist/not-exist. And, again, I regularly stepped back to the middle, to experience not being limited, caught or identified with those dualistic narratives.

NOT LIMITED BY DISTINCTIONS
In the centre, in pure and total presence, is the freedom of not being defined or limited by the concepts of inside/outside, exist/not-exist, or even up/down, or left-right. Again, this ‘up-down’ exploration reminded me of the 1975 experience, too, because at that time ‘up’ and ‘down’ were a big deal for me. The distinction made no sense, anymore. I couldn’t figure out how ‘up’ and ‘down’ couldn’t mean anything.

Now they are useful concepts, but I have come to understand that they are derived from pure and total presence. The resolution reminds me of a saying from the Lankavatara Sutra, which I often quote: “Things are not as they appear to be. Neither are they otherwise.”

I hope this is helpful to you, dear Reader. It has been for me, and I’ll continue to explore it – not here on the blog, perhaps, but by myself. Thank you for being a part of the occasion of this experiment. And, many thanks to Richard for this tool.
_____________________________
* It comes from http://howtosavetheworld.ca/

For Musing Upon

By admin

On June 26, 2015

In General

It’s late at night, and I was travelling today, so I don’t have a lot of writing energy left. Nevertheless, the travel time gave me the opportunity to contemplate these traditional invitations:

– Consider the certainty of death, including the fragility of our situation;

– Consider that we don’t know when, nor how, we will die;

– Consider what won’t help us at the time of death;

– Consider what we can cultivate in ourselves, now, that might help at the time of death.

I jotted down some responses, to my contemplations, and tomorrow, I’ll share the inquiry. I’ll also reflect on:

– inquiry as a form of joy;

– an always-ready pith-practice of mindfulness, the heartwood of mindfulness, such that we can go gently, truly, (madly), deeply into life and and death ; and

– why, if being realistic about death is beneficial, do we – even after making the commitment to live as though this were our last year – why do we forget to bring the practice to mind? What do you see in yourself in response to this question?

Presuming I’ll be here tomorrow, I’ll flesh out (so to speak) my own responses. Now, for some shut-eye.

What’s My Being-With Like?

By admin

On June 19, 2015

In Enquiry, Practices

“On their deathbed some people look back on their lives and are overwhelmed by a sense of failure. They have a closet full of regrets. They become disheartened when they reflect on how they have overlooked the preciousness of their relationships, forgotten the importance of finding their “true work,” and delayed what some call “living my own life”” – Stephen Levine, A Year to Live
Somewhere during my forty-fourth year, one evening I was nurturing a question, about my unlived life – in the kind of territory which Stephen points to, in that quote. Although I hadn’t found Focusing, I had, by then, come to learn to ask intimate questions of myself, in just the way that I later refined in Focusing. That is, that night I asked my question with a gentleness, and with a pause for feeling into the ‘more’ which might come in the middle of my body, about the question. (Now that I think of it, I had been doing hospice training for a couple of years, so that probably contributed to this gentleness. My mentor spoke of listening to others in the manner of an ’empty bowl.’)
So, this night I was emptying myself for my own question. I asked: ‘What, if I died now, would I regret not having developed? What have I neglected?” I paused, and listened inwardly, in the soft middle of my body. And, from a long-forgotten place in myself came the knowledge which burst into tears: “The artist.” it said.
I began to bring art-making into my life, and even entered an art competition that year. In the next year, I enrolled in Art School, at the old East Sydney Tech; and held an exhibition with a friend, by the end of that year. I don’t think it’s merely coincidental that in that same year I turned the corner in my spiritual work, and I also discovered that I would never go mad. To honour who you are can come in all kinds of forms; for instance, just speaking your part in the meeting with the regional or departmental who-evers can lead to a subsequent spiritual opening.
I won’t pretend that I had a revolution. I’m still doing my best to let the artist live in me.

The point is that we can always make a start in honouring who we are. I posted something in this vein – about people’s end-of-life regrets – on my positivity blog, a while back. Here is a list, recorded by Australian palliative care nurse Bonnie Ware, in her book The Top Five Regrets of the Dying: A Life Transformed by the Dearly Departing:
I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me;
I wish I didn’t work so hard;
I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings;
I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends; and
I wish that I had let myself be happier.
Short as it is, it’s a formidable list of transformations possible. However, here I want to emphasise the spirit of the inquiry we can bring to our unlived life, the ‘being-with.’ What is your ‘being-with’ like, your way of being with the questions you ask inside? Do you drop them in, like small pebbles into the still pool of your precious body? Can you ask gently, curious about what might come – not knowing, actualy, what the ripples will be like, those intimations which may appear there? The Earth is groaning for want of our intimacy with bodily wisdom.