When I started meditating, I was a troubled young man. I was a punk rocker, had a white mohawk, and reveled in both the antiestablishment grit of that anarchic scene as well as the wild music. I was living and going to college in East London and was active in the lively squatting movement that helped people occupy the plethora of empty and abandoned state-owned houses. I had a lot of anger inside about the inequality created by capitalism, and I raged against England’s oppressive class system. The rundown, working-class neighborhoods where I lived further entrenched my frustration. That was my outer struggle. Inwardly, I fared no better. I also turned my anger toward myself. I had a wicked inner critic; I was plagued with self-judgment and a lot of self-hatred. Looking back, I can see that angry young man was both deeply unhappy and confused about the source of his own suffering.
One day, the ceiling collapsed in the old Victorian house where I was squatting, leaving decades of dirt, dust, and debris strewn across our living room and kitchen. My stoned housemates didn’t seem to care, which didn’t help matters. In that moment, something snapped. Deep inside, I intuited there had to be a better way, a way not just to cope with the inner and outer challenges of life but also to flourish. The pain inside compelled me to look for answers. I quickly realized that my political interests in anarchy and socialism would not address my inner struggles. So I started to read any spiritual books I could get my hands on. I frequented second-hand bookstores for works on Kabbalah, mysticism, Christianity, and more, but I was stumbling along in the dark without a light to guide me.
As luck would have it, I ended up squatting in a Buddhist housing association property. Rather than evict me, they kindly suggested I take my confused self to their meditation center just around the corner in Bethnal Green in London’s East End. Perhaps they hoped I would sort my head out there. I had no idea then that I was going to find keys that would help unlock secrets for working with the pain I was busy running from. It’s not that meditation practice removed my sadness, anger, and confusion. At least, not immediately. It just gave me a lens and some tools for working with them. These tools were literally lifesaving, and they are skills that have served me well ever since.
As I learned then, we all can, through the practice of mindfulness, access the jewel of awareness, which can positively impact our well-being. This happens by becoming more aware of, and disengaging from, negative patterns of thinking and cycles of blame and reactivity, which just compound our distress. Through mindfulness, we can discern which choices and behaviors are skillful in any given moment and which just deepen stress and suffering.
Of course, back then, I was just taking baby steps in learning how to live well. But ever since that time thirty-five years ago, I have been studying and integrating these practices and teachings on mindfulness. This path has allowed me to find clarity, wisdom, and some peace in the midst of whatever I am going through, even with challenging emotions and stressful life circumstances. And with practice, anyone can do the same.
These are just a few of the fruits of mindfulness practice. Many other beautiful qualities can arise through cultivating attention, like calm, joy, and spaciousness, although ultimately, the goal of mindfulness isn’t to feel or be any particular way. Rather, we develop a clear awareness, which provides insight about ourselves and reality. This not only supports a deep inner freedom but allows us to respond more wisely and compassionately to whatever life presents. My hope is that this book shares some of the important lessons I have learned along the way that will support you in your own journey.
So, What Is Mindfulness?
Ask ten meditation teachers “What is mindfulness?” and you may get ten different responses. The conversation about this complex and subtle theme is not new. Debates over this topic have occurred for centuries, across cultures, and within contemplative traditions. How would you answer that question?
When I ask students in my classes and retreats “What is mindfulness?” I hear a wide variety of responses. Some are more accurate than others, but often they reflect enduring misunderstandings about what it really is. People will say that it means “paying attention” or “being calm and focused.” Or they remark that it’s “thinking clearly about things,” or “being free from thoughts.” Others say it’s about “letting go.” All these answers contain kernels of truth, but none capture the essence and breadth of this quality. Hearing the many ways it is either misconstrued or its depth misunderstood inspired me to write about it.
Simply stated, mindfulness is clear awareness. It is the clear knowing of experience, a nonreactive, noninterfering quality of attention. But it is also much more than that. Having studied and cultivated mindfulness as a practice and a way of life for most of my adult life, I have seen firsthand what a multifaceted jewel it really is. It can impact every arena and every moment of our lives. Exploring the many dimensions of mindfulness, both in theory and in practice, is what this book is all about.
The word mindfulness is an odd word in itself, as it sounds like one’s mind must be full of something. It was originally used by scholars in the eighteenth century to translate the Indian Pali word sati, which literally means “recollection” or “remembering,” to mentally take note of an experience. In this context, one could say mindfulness is the conscious knowing of experience, to fully cognize something, which allows for recollection. For example, if you are not present to reading this book right now, how will you fully take note of and remember what you have read? Sati also refers to bearing something in mind. For instance, we bear in mind our breath when meditating, or we bear in mind our footsteps when walking along a rocky path.
The idea of being present is not something that is foreign to our experience. Even the name of our species, Homo sapiens, refers to being wise or being aware, to knowing that we know. In that way, mindfulness returns us to our birthright, or at least to our potential, to this innate quality of wise knowing. And it is through developing clear awareness of our moment-to-moment experience that we begin to cultivate wisdom and discernment. That is particularly true when we do so with a curious, reflective attention. A more complete definition that I like to use is that mindfulness is an awareness of our inner and outer experience with an attitude of curiosity and care, in order to develop wisdom and understanding. Caring attention, as I will discuss throughout, is necessary for being able to stay present for even the most difficult experience.
In this era when mindfulness has become popularized and perhaps its depth or scope diminished, it is important to reflect on why it can be so impactful in our lives. It isn’t just “paying attention.” It’s the ability to know what is happening without our normal reactions, commentary, and judgment. It is the capacity to meet experience without trying to fix, change, or control it. To capture this characteristic, some refer to mindfulness as “bare attention.” That is, it is the awareness of experience without the smoke screen of concepts, labels, and thoughts that can occlude our immediate perception.
To demonstrate this, try this simple mindfulness exercise: Hold up one of your hands, and for a few moments, simply look at your hand and become aware of all its aspects. Get to know your hand as if for the first time. For example, feel your hand’s weight, its heaviness or lightness. Observe its size and shape, the colors, lines, contours, and veins. Feel the skin’s texture and temperature. Does it have a smell? Can you feel it from the inside, noticing the muscles and bones, the pulse of blood and tingling of energy?
As you do this, notice if critical thoughts or reactions arise. For example, do you start to judge if your fingernails aren’t clean, or how old and wrinkled the skin may look? If so, simply recognize these thoughts and return to just being present and observing your hand in a neutral way. Continue doing this for a few minutes, and be aware of whether you can remain in this simple observational mode or if judgments, associations, and reactions distract you from simply attending.
Mindfulness allows us to know the immediacy of experience directly as it is, along with an awareness of how we react to that experience. It allows an intimacy of attention that provides a deeper perception, one that goes beyond our initial concepts and opinions about an event. Knowing the difference between having a clear awareness of something versus thinking and reacting to it is an important element of the practice.
One reason mindfulness is hard to define is because it is not just a state of mind. It is also a way of cultivating awareness and a wide variety of attention training techniques. It is easily mistaken for the qualities that arise when we meditate, like calmness and focus. These qualities are simply some of the fruits of the practice. So understanding mindfulness is like getting to know the many facets of water, which has a variety of forms, properties, and expressions. To define water as simply fluid or wetness, to reduce it to ocean, ice, clouds, or rain, simplifies what it is and misses the scope of its potential. Similarly, to reduce mindfulness to simply attention or one of its related qualities misses its multifaceted nature.
Mindfulness is a clear awareness of moment-to-moment experience. To cultivate this, we can engage in any number of meditative practices. The technique of observing your hand is just one small example. The meditation at the end of this introduction is another, and I present many more in later chapters: walking meditation, open awareness practice, body scan, and so on. As you read this book, I strongly suggest you explore these meditations. An ongoing mindfulness practice helps train your mind to become deeply attuned to what is happening right now. There are many diverse ways to formally practice mindfulness, and yet what unifies them is they all develop awareness.
This can be done in any moment, anywhere. For example, right now, look out a window. Pay attention to whatever you see. Take in the whole panorama, and then focus on one particular thing: the leaves on a tree, a particular cloud, the bricks of a building, a telephone pole, the moon, and so on. Be aware of both what you are seeing and that you are seeing. And notice how you respond to what you observe. All this happens in a simple moment of mindfulness. And it’s trickier than it sounds, as you may notice. Moments of clear attention can quickly get lost within and beneath the many other thoughts, judgments, and distractions that arise.
Mindfulness, as research shows, improves our focus, but it provides impacts that go beyond a concentrated attention. These practices, as I will explore, help develop beautiful related qualities like clarity, wisdom, patience, resilience, empathy, compassion, and equanimity. Practiced to its depth, mindfulness can help us live with ease amidst the turmoil of life and discover a genuine inner freedom. This is the true peace we are so often seeking. To help people realize this is one of my intentions for writing this book.
The Benefits of Mindfulness
Studies have shown that we spend much of the time on autopilot, going about our day without being very present. In a 2010 study at Harvard, psychologists concluded that our minds are thinking about something else, rather than being present to the task at hand, 47 percent of the time! That means, for almost half of our waking life, we are not really here. No wonder there is an explosion of interest in mindfulness practice, which helps counter such habits. In that distracted mode, we miss so much of the precious and important moments of life.
We also mistakenly assume we see things as they are, but the truth is we usually don’t perceive clearly at all. We filter our experience with all kinds of bias, judgments, and preferences. We swim in a river of likes and dislikes, ceaselessly running after one shiny thing and rejecting other less-pleasing experiences. This creates a never-ending push-pull conflict with life that all too often leads to unnecessary stress.
However, this doesn’t need to be the case. Through training in awareness, we can learn to observe both our experience and the often turbulent reactions we may have to it. Over time, this clarity enables us to be less driven by our knee-jerk impulses and thus make wiser choices in our lives. This freedom from reactivity is one of the potent outcomes of mindfulness practice. It is why the practice was originally taught and developed, as a way to break free from the painful reactive cycles we so often find ourselves in.
For example, my client Jenny, by her own admission, worries a lot. She gets particularly anxious about her sixteen-year-old twin daughters, who are starting to date and go to parties. If they come home later at night than they promised, her mind whips into a frenzy of terror, imagining all kinds of catastrophic scenarios, fantasizing about terrible things that might happen to her beloved children. Yet she also knows that her daughters are street-smart, responsible kids who aren’t reckless and don’t use drugs. On nights when they return home late, what Jenny’s mind does with all of that conflicting data is the difference between her peace of mind and a mild panic attack. Through mindfulness practice, she has learned to recognize and not buy into the scary thoughts her mind creates, and she is therefore able to be more grounded and steady even in this anxiety-provoking situation.
Another important facet of mindfulness is clear comprehension. This quality helps us discern not just what is happening in the present but what thoughts, speech, and actions are skillful or helpful and which result in pain or stress. With this clarity, we can learn to act in ways that support well-being and cease to engage in actions that cause unnecessary harm — in the same way we quickly drop a hot pan we pick up accidentally on the stove. We can’t always avoid pain, but we learn to hold on less and to not pursue things that cause unnecessary anguish.
In this way mindfulness helps foster discernment and wisdom. The poet William Blake summed up this principle rather well when he wrote these oft-quoted words about how we skillfully or unskillfully relate to pleasure: “He who binds to himself a joy / Does the winged life destroy / He who kisses the joy as it flies / lives in eternity’s sunrise.” It is the clarity of awareness that reveals how our desire to hold and keep what brings us delight can be the very thing that causes us to experience pain and loss. Experience is ephemeral and always changing; all joys eventually fade. But we only multiply the hurt if, in folly, we grasp after pleasure. Rather, as Blake says, we can appreciate joy when it arrives, knowing its presence is fleeting.
Such a light way of being with experience is a perfect example of what awareness makes possible. Without that clarity and wisdom, we so easily get caught in the pain of attachment. The reverse is also true. We sometimes despair when pain arrives, forgetting that it, too, is fleeting, and our reactivity to it only extends our distress. When Jenny imagines worst-case scenarios, this just compounds the anxiety of her daughters’ late return. By learning to simply be with her own unpleasant feelings, Jenny can save herself all manner of unnecessary woes.
By bringing direct awareness to any aspect of experience, we can develop clarity and insight. This, in essence, is the deeper purpose of mindfulness — to help us understand and know experience, ourselves, and reality just as they are. The wisdom that arises from this can facilitate a freedom from a painful contention with life. We will explore this theme extensively in later chapters.
How does this work in practice? Take an everyday scenario: being stuck in traffic. Whenever I drive to work in the San Francisco Bay Area, I often encounter traffic, which can threaten to make me late. If I’m aware, I can sense the tension in my gut and shoulders as soon as I see the cars ahead slowing down. I can also observe my self-judgments, such as critical thoughts over why I didn’t leave earlier or anticipate the morning traffic. I may notice that my anxiety and tension increase as I anticipate the frustration of my clients if I’m late for our meeting.
These inner reactions just compound my stress. However, if I remain unaware of these reactions, they are more likely to grow, and I am likely to feel even more burdened. Instead of just being late, I will arrive at the office anxious, irritated, and ill-prepared to work with anyone. However, if I become aware of being triggered — of the tension in my body, of my racing thoughts and worry, of my impatience and self-judgment — I can make wiser choices about the best course of action. Mindfulness does not make the traffic go away, although we wish it would. Instead it provides tools to recognize stress and reactivity and to find skillful ways to work with them. And the good news is this skill is immanently portable. We can practice it anywhere, even in our morning commute!
Another useful analogy is to think of mindfulness as a gatekeeper. In the same way medieval towns had a sentry who prevented harmful forces from entering, awareness helps us guard the mind from unwholesome or painful states. In this case, the main thing we are guarding against is ourselves, from our own reactivity, judgments, and negativity.
Like traffic, everyday life is full of innumerable things we don’t like or don’t want to have happen. Our children may suddenly get sick, or we may hear about some injustice in our national politics. Our boss may suddenly dump a difficult project on our desk late on Friday afternoon, or a loved one may receive a troubling medical diagnosis. Whatever the reason, out of the blue, unexpected events may trigger resentment, panic, despair, and overwhelm. But with awareness, we can recognize when such difficult states overtake us. That clarity creates a pipeline of information that helps us understand how best to handle such eruptions.
As with traffic, that knowing does not necessarily keep reactivity from occurring, but it allows us to recognize it and find space in relation to it. This clear awareness gives us the opportunity to choose a healthy response. Such “wise action” might be to release a painful habit of anticipating the worst outcome, like Jenny did, or it might be to simply stop resisting an unpleasant reality, like traffic, back pain, or a child’s illness, and do whatever is necessary or constructive to cope with it.
Being mindful means that, over time, we become less tossed around by our reactions or resistance to the things we dislike and don’t want but have no control over. This allows us to not waste so much energy fighting the things we cannot change. This supports the stabilizing quality of equanimity, since we learn to be with experience just as it is, whether we like it or not, with a nonreactive attention.
For instance, consider another example, this time of a positive experience: When I get up in the morning, I love to meditate and listen to the dawn chorus of birdsong. Sometimes, though, rather than simply listening, I become gripped by a longing for the beautiful singing to go on forever, or I become irritated when the noise of the garbage truck drowns out the sweet melodies. Either way, my pleasure is replaced with frustration.
However, when I’m aware, like the poet Blake, I enjoy the song while it lasts and remain at ease when it goes or when something interrupts it. Mindfulness allows me to be present to the sweetness of the chorus and the sour sounds of traffic. This awareness helps me avoid contracting in negativity against unwanted noise, which I can’t do anything about anyway. This simple but subtle shift in attention is a key principle to how we relate to all experience — and it allows us to release the struggle to either hold on to or resist anything in life, the ups and the downs, the joys and the sorrows.
The following story from Karen, a meditation student from Virginia, further illustrates how this practice of mindfulness helps develop wisdom in the midst of the messiness of life, no matter how hard it gets:
Like many others I have had very dark moments with a difficult divorce, being a single mom, and also having a strong idealistic tendency to think I could somehow find a perfect state of “happiness.” Over the years I tried a variety of spiritual practices and teachers, but nothing really seemed to help me cope with my patterns of reactivity, which still played out and brought me deep frustration and unhappiness.
When I discovered mindfulness practice, it seemed as though I had finally found something that did not set me up to search for some ideal state. Instead it showed me a depth of awareness in which I could be kind, happy, and at ease in my ordinary life under any circumstance. Therein lies the peace and happiness I have longed for all my life. The pain of the divorce didn’t magically disappear. Neither did the challenges of being a single parent. However, mindfulness did give me the capacity to be present, accepting, and patient with whatever life threw at me. That has been an invaluable gift.
In each of the four sections in this book, I explore the full breadth of mindfulness, which includes bringing a close attention to four key areas in our life: to our body, our mind, our heart, and the world we live in. I will discuss how, through the arc of practice, we learn to bring awareness to these key facets of our experience. As we practice this over time, we slowly discover how mindfulness is a vehicle for insight and wisdom that helps free us from suffering and to live with genuine well-being and peace. Each chapter is always followed by a practice, a way to implement and cultivate the specific quality or aspect of mindfulness being discussed. Many of the practices contain more information to augment and illuminate the chapter contents.
• PRACTICE •
Perhaps the simplest, most commonly known, and most accessible way to cultivate mindfulness is through awareness of breathing. Mindfulness of breath is for many the easiest and most readily available practice, since it can be done anywhere, anytime, with minimal instruction or experience. Yet it is also a meditation that can have profound depth and subtlety.
The breath is a barometer for our inner emotional and physical life. By attending to the movement, depth, or tension in the breath, we gain a sense of our inner experience. We can observe how the breath changes in subtle ways depending on what is happening in our mind, heart, and environment. Touched by a moment of joy, we gasp. Overcome by fear, our breath is held tight. No matter where we are, we can learn to attune to the breath as a support for staying in our body in the present moment.
Begin by establishing a posture where you can sit with ease, one that is upright and yet relaxed and alert. Close your eyes and become aware of your body and its posture. Then shift attention to your breath. Try to let the body breathe itself, which it does quite naturally without our interference. Then simply attune your attention to all the various sensations of the inhale and the exhale. Stay curious where you feel the sensations of breath most clearly, like the movement of air in the nostrils, the tickle of air in the back of the throat, the expansion and contraction of the upper chest and ribcage, and the gentle moving in and out of the diaphragm and belly area. Notice how each breath is subtly different from the one before. Be aware of the changing sensations of breathing as well as the stillness of the pause between breaths.
Naturally, your attention will become drawn to other experiences, like sounds and physical sensations, and to other thoughts. When that happens, acknowledge those things and then shift attention back to the breath. No need to judge or become disheartened when you become distracted, even when this happens many times. Mindfulness practice is training, a discipline to develop present-moment attention. Little by little we become more focused and attuned. Continue to let your awareness become absorbed into the sensory experience of breathing, receiving each breath with curiosity, as if you were feeling it for the first time.
After about ten minutes or so, bring the meditation to a close and notice the impact of the practice. Observe what was interesting and where the challenges were in staying present. Know that this is a practice, to be developed over time, with patience and curiosity. Eventually you can extend this meditation to twenty or thirty minutes to support a deeper concentration. Remember, you can take this practice anywhere, since the breath accompanies you in every instant.
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