An Old Fear of Meditation

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Way back in my youthful days, when I became interested in religion, I was actually adverse to meditation. I want to explore this because it’s got some useful insights.

What annoyed me was that meditation seemed to be about controlling your mind. In my youthful misinterpretations, it seemed that you strove mightily to keep thoughts out of your mind. It sounded like a way to sit cross-legged calmly and get anxiety. I was a teenager, I had enough anxiety due to biochemistry.

It was only much later that I realized that meditation was more about doing something that then had certain insights/benefits or “just do it and trust me.” I wonder how my life may have been different if I had understood this difference earlier. Certainly it’d have expanded my interest in Buddhism (which I most associated with control) and meditation in general.

(Ironically I thought Taoism was cool, and despite some scholars in the 80s dissing the mystic aspects, I found those kept intriguing me.)

On reflection, I see a few lessons here.

First, my “fear of endless control” arose from people talking about what meditation should result in. The focus on the goal is anxiety-producing as we are not trying to meditate, but we are trying to “get somewhere” – and as I’ve expounded on, meditation needs doing and all else takes care of itself. I wonder how many scholars and theologians and historians accidentally turned people off to meditation or accidentally set people on a path to self-flagellation.

Secondly, it makes me realize how, as kids, there’s really little useful education on theology, culture, and spirituality. Yes, a lot of this is because all we get is religious indoctrination and marketed bullshit, but a person can hope for something more. Having a good, open, sympathetic understanding of such things would be a great benefit, though I’m not holding my breath.

Third, it makes me realize how important it is for us to be able to discuss spiritual and meditative practices with each other. It’s difficult enough as is, and when even talented authors mess it up the rest of us have a steeper hill to climb. It’s an actual skillset we could cultivate, and maybe share around.

So that’s it. Just a personal experience and something I learned. There’s always lessons in our past.

–Xenofact

The Ecosystem And Greater Development

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I’ve been reading “McMindfulness,” a book on how a kind of stripped-down Buddhism became a big fad by promoting “mindfulness.” Basically you learn to be aware of stress and decisions, while of course doing crap-all to make the world a less stressful place. It’s a few techniques used as a kind of though-stopping cliche. Also it’s written rather angrily by a Buddhist, and angry Buddhist writing is an experience.

One thing the author notes, repeatedly is that such “Mindfulness” techniques are bereft of things like ethical teachings, the importance of community, etc. The famous “Eightfold Path” which is sort of integral to leading an effective lifestyle for a Buddhist is missing. Its just awareness exercises otherwise, and you’re not that aware without them.

This struck my own experiences in what I call “the ecosystem.” My meditative work, Taoist-derived, is far far more effective, insightful, and useful combined with a “big picture” set of efforts. Ethical and social considerations, reading the Tao Te Ching, use of symbolic systems like the I Ching to interpret states, and so on. Meditation without a larger structure is just different ways to sit there but not “sit there” if you know what I mean.

It dawned on me that having an ecosystem is necessary to spiritual practice and without it you’ll develop little if at all. In fact you might just be self-centered and more withdrawn, being really aware of how you’re not doing anything with your spiritual awareness.

The ecosystem provides a way to support your growth – and often that involves supporting others. To deal with ethical considerations, choices, and operate among people is vital for spiritual development. You often need people for that development anyway, even if some of us really wonder about being hermits now and then. To exist in society and pursue spiritual growth requires a framework.

The ecosystem also primes you for real growth. To ask about moral considerations, one’s role in society, and so on is to prepare you to use those insights. Your spiritual growth is not trapped inside a bubble of self- it helps you become a much larger person.

Finally, the ecosystem is a form of meditation. What does the Eightfold Path really mean to a Buddhist? What do Taoists mean when they say that sounds can “deafen the ear?” To have an ecosystem of ethics and social practices is to ask why they exist and give you more to contemplate.

Meditative practices, mindfulness practices, do not end at just being a bit more aware. That’s the beginning, and to remove the larger ecosystem of ethics, social principles, etc. is to strip down meditative practices to nearly nothing. Certainly enough nothing to be marketed in endless seminars where people are taught to put up with all the crap in the world.

I’m not yet done with this book, but I’m getting why the Buddhist writer is pissed off.

–Xenofact

Maintenance Mode Meditation

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Life’s been busy as of late, ranging from dental work to work-work, to people needing rides, along with insufferable temperatures and Full Metal Assault Pollen. It’s been quite a few weeks of eventfulness.

So sometimes, I find I don’t take the time to meditate as much as I’d like. I have a good routine, but when life was anything but routine, I tried to set up a maintenance mode. What’s the “basic” meditation routine I can keep to stay in the groove.

So I found the very basics I could do in the case of utter disruption, and did them. No matter what else, from airline flights to having to turn my salads into smoothies, I did them. The key thing was to do something, no matter my other limits, if only for a few minutes, every day.

At first I did this out of a kind of diffuse guilt mixed with the idea that I should at least have some kind of continuity. Eventually I realized this made a lot of sense – and actually helped my meditation.

Committing to “at least maintenance” takes pressure off of me. And by pressure off of me, I mean I stop pressuring myself. Not only am I pushing myself less, I’m realizing how much I pushed myself to meditate. I “get into it” more.

Doing “maintenance meditation” keeps up the sense of practice and awareness of what I’m doing. I might not be doing as much as I’d like but I’m keeping the right mindset and any learning or improved techniques stick with me. I also think without the self-pressure, the experiences “settle in” more.

I also found I tried to meditate “better” with these limits, trying to do it right, and asking what mattered. Sure, there was a little pressure on myself, but in times I “got” what mattered in my meditation.

Finally, and this surprised me, the above meant that my meditations were, I guess you could say, more fulfilling. Because the pressure is off, because I have that consistent awareness, it seems they go better when do them in full or in part. It shocked me, but because I wasn’t thinking about meditation, I was doing the best I could, a whole catalog of pathological behaviors became reduced.

So now, I found meditating less I means I meditated better. Go figure.

I’m enjoying being back in my routine more or less. Because it’s something I’m more intimate with, more happy with, and understand on a deeper level. I suppose routine is good, but dealing with life is sometimes the best meditation.

–Xenofact