Tag: mindfulness

• Four Dimensions of Mindfulness, Brainwaves and Centering Prayer

  In chapter five of his book Buddha Is as Buddha Does, dharma teacher Lama Surya Das offers this fascinating insight into the nature of mindfulness:

  According to Tibetan Buddhist tradition, there are four kinds of mindfulness. First comes average mindfulness—the attention that springs naturally and spontaneously through our own interest in a particular person, situation, or phenomenon. For the most part, it’s concerned with worldly matters and lasts as long as the interest itself. The second kind is cultivated or generated mindfulness—the type that we intentionally apply to particular objects of awareness in order to stabilize or deepen our understanding of them. This can be considered the general practice of mindfulness: a highly focused and alert presence of mind free from judgment, evaluation, reactivity. The third kind is abiding mindfulness: the well-trained mind is sufficiently tamed to rest naturally, without wavering, wherever it is focused. Accomplished meditation masters can sustain this kind of concentrated or one-pointed mindfulness for hours, days, or even longer, uninterrupted by distractions. The fourth is Dharmakaya mindfulness, or innate wakefulness, where awareness itself remains undistracted from its own nature. In other words, there is no observer “I” noticing awareness within our consciousness, nor can anything within or outside our consciousness diffuse its energy.

  As I’m reading these words, I am reminded of the four different human consciousness which are measured by the length of our brain waves:

  • Beta (13‐20 Hz): Ordinary waking consciousness. Brain waves at this frequency are present when we are alert and concentrating on our activities: driving, reading, solving a math problem, engaged in stimulating conversation.
  • Alpha (8‐13 Hz): Relaxed consciousness. Still awake and perhaps also alert, but less concentration and more open awareness. This frequency marks relaxation, meditation, getting a massage, taking a slow walk in the forest.
  • Theta (4‐8 Hz): Creative consciousness. With these slowing brainwaves we move into the deeply open space of dream, daydream and reverie. This is the twilight space where intuition kicks in and ideas flow naturally. Perhaps this is the forum where mystical experience and consciousness of divine presence is most likely to occur.
  • Delta (±0 to 4 Hz): Deep dreamless sleep. As our mind powers down to very slow brain waves, we simply experience a lack of awareness that typically includes most of the night of a good night’s sleep (but when we dream, we return to theta waves).

  Lama Surya Das’s fourfold model of mindfulness does not track exactly with brainwaves, since mindfulness does not typically include deep sleep, so delta waves don’t really show up in his model. But it’s important to remember he is presented traditional Tibetan Buddhist teachings, which are not meant to be a type of scientific classification. Still, I can see some interesting parallels.

  • Average Mindfulness might correspond with high alpha or low beta states: it’s the ordinary experience of “paying attention” to something, without effort, and for only as long as the object of attention remains interesting. Average mindfulness flits about like a hummingbird flying from flower to flower seeking nectar.
  • Cultivated Mindfulness might correspond to the higher range of beta consciousness: here we are more intentionally “showing up” with focused awareness, as we seek to learn something, master a skill, or cultivate greater understanding. We’ve slowed down the flitting hummingbird and our putting effort into keeping our mindfulness focused on a single object of interest.
  • Abiding Mindfulness, the fruit of a stable meditation practice, takes us into the low alpha to theta range. This is the adept attentiveness to what Cynthia Bourgeault calls “objectless awareness,” requiring less effort than cultivated mindfulness, because it is the fruit of years if not decades of practice. Here we simply relax into open, spacious, wordless being, and once there we seek to simply rest in the sacred now.
  • Dharmakaya Mindfulness — dharmakaya literally means “wisdom-body” and so it implies a mindfulness which is the embodiment of all wisdom. As Lama Surya Das suggests, this is nondual mindfulness. I have no idea which brainwaves correspond to this, but I imagine the deepest theta state comes the closest. This is the page of consciousness on which the words of awareness are printed. This is enlightened consciousness, and a western/theistic understanding might see this as the consciousness of nondual divine union, complete objectless awareness where the “I” drops away and all that is present is divine consciousness.

  So let’s take these two ways of mapping consciousness and apply them to Centering Prayer.

  • Centering Prayer, especially at first, is an invitation into relaxed awareness of silence but that often results in a frustrating experience of distracting thoughts and using one’s sacred word to return to the silence. Here the “goal” is abiding mindfulness, but we start by dancing between average mindfulness (the distracting stream of ordinary consciousness) and cultivated mindfulness (the effort to keep returning to silence awareness through your sacred word).
  • Over time and persevering in practice, little by little the experience of abiding mindfulness can occur. This is an experience of grace: we cannot force or engineer abiding mindfulness, we simply allow it to occur and bask it in when it does. Often, especially at first, the radical openness of abiding mindfulness is so sweet that we almost immediately pop back into average mindfulness, with a thought like, “Isn’t this awesome? I’m finally getting somewhere with my meditation!” Oops! And the cycle begins again.
  • Finally, the experience of dharmakaya mindfulness is even more elusive than abiding mindfulness, for this is a pure gift of grace. It is what the classic mystics called “infused contemplation” (whereas abiding mindfulness is “acquired contemplation”). It is “infused” by the Spirit, a grace given, not something we control. But when it shows up, we cay say (echoing Dainin Katagiri) that “each moment is the universe” — a single split second of dharmakaya mindfulness is an opening-up into the timelessness of eternity and the all-pervasive bliss of limitless non-dual grace.

  It is generally believed that Centering Prayer needs to practiced with an open mind and open heart, which is to say, with no “goal” other than being present and consenting to the action of the Spirit within us. But perhaps we can be excused for saying that another reason for an ongoing practice of Centering Prayer is to make ourselves available for the gift of infused contemplation/dharmakaya mindfulness.

  Since Centering Prayer is a western, which is to say theistic, meditation practice, it’s wise to view it as a dance of the human creature with the divine creator. We enter the silence to consent to the Spirit’s presence and action within. Therefore, exploring the different levels of consciousness or kinds of mindfulness is not an end to itself, but always a means to an end: ever-opening availability to deeper intimacy with God. Perhaps the four dimensions of mindfulness are like four mansions in the Interior Castle, each one bringing us closer to that place where all dualities and all away and there is only the bliss of union with God.

  

   

   

  September 3, 2024

  Centering prayer, consciousness, meditation, mindfulness, Mysticism

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• Can Contemplation Change the World?

  Four years ago I wrote a blog post titled Is Contemplation Dangerous? It was a review of a book called The Buddha Pill: Can Meditation Change You? Written by two British psychologists, the book looks at a variety of meditation practices, such as Transcendental Meditation and Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction, the book offers a balanced assessment of what science has to say about how meditation can — and cannot — make a difference in terms of our physical and mental health.

  Even beyond that the authors of The Buddha Pill look at the question of whether meditation, especially when practiced intensively and without adequate supervision, might even by dangerous or harmful to a person’s well-being. I think this is an important question, and it needs to be addressed, not only by the healthcare community, but by those who promote meditation even if only on a spiritual level.

  I’m not a scientist, psychiatrist, or physician, so everything I say in this blog is only anecdotal in nature — and it goes without saying that this blog is not meant to be a source for medical or psychological advice. When in doubt consult a qualified healthcare provider. Speaking strictly as a writer and spiritual teacher, I think that meditative practices (like centering prayer, the Jesus Prayer, and other Christian forms of meditation) are very gentle and safe tools for cultivating spiritual wellness and that also can contribute to physical or psychological benefits such as relaxation, cultivating inner peacefulness, and perhaps even alleviating the symptoms of conditions like depression or  high blood pressure.

  But I had an interesting conversation with a friend the other day. He teaches undergraduate religion courses, and he commented that some of his students criticize meditation practices as a kind of “religious painkiller” — an effective tool for helping religious people to feel better about themselves, but that actually undermine efforts to make needed changes both in religious communities and in society as a whole.

  It’s the classic Marxist criticism of religion: the opiate of the people. For Marxists, religion is a problem because it undermines the efforts of ordinary people to struggle for better living conditions. Religion offers a pie in the sky in exchange for docile behavior here and now.

  Could contemplative and meditative practices work in a similar way? They cultivate a shallow sense of inner peace and serenity, and by doing so lull their practitioners into a kind of sleepwalking state that prevents people from instituting the real reforms that religion — and society as a whole — desperately need?

  Since I had the conversation with my friend, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Once again, I’m not a social scientist or a political theorist. So my thoughts on this question are strictly my own musing. But I think this is a question that anyone interested in spiritual practices needs to consider, so here I’m taking my own crack at it.

  What it boils down to is this: the corollary to “Is contemplation dangerous?” is simply this: “Can contemplation change the world?” And I think the answer to both questions is, “Yes, depending on if we do it right.”

  Contemplation Can Change the World — But Only if You Do it Right

  Anyone who has more than a superficial experience with a sustained, daily practice of meditation, centering prayer, zen, etc., quickly learns that this is not a shortcut to inner peace.

  Does meditation help us cultivate inner peacefulness? I believe it can. But it does so be relentlessly challenging us to face, and heal/transform, everything within us that undermines our own serenity.

  In other words, meditation helps us to clean house, but by shining a big bright light on all the spots where the dirt is hiding. And then it’s up to us whether we actually want to do the hard work of cleaning.

  In his video series on “The Spiritual Journey,” Father Thomas Keating, the most articulate and nuanced teacher of the centering prayer method, speaks about a process he calls “the unloading of the unconscious.” It’s a recognition that when we learn to tend to the silence within us by gently letting go of our attachment to our thoughts and feelings, what often can happen is a process of psychic catharsis — as our deeply buried painful memories, unresolved conflicts, feelings of rage or jealousy or envy, and other such “shadow” materials slowly come to awareness in the gentle process of contemplation. The mind and heart shines this light, not in the interest of causing inner distress, but in a process of facilitating inner healing. But just as housecleaning is a lot of hard work, so too the “unloading” process of contemplative practice can feel turbulent, uncomfortable, or even traumatic.

  So back to the question of whether contemplative or meditative practices can actually make a real difference in our lives. I believe anyone who engages in this kind of practice with a sincere desire to grow spiritually, and supported by a properly-formed spiritual director or a caring community of faith, can be transformed in a very deep and powerful way. But this goes a lot deeper than just “finding inner peace.” So if anyone is engaging in silent practices as a way of avoiding the hard work that needs to be done in your personal life, or in your community, the practice itself will tend to undermine your efforts to avoid the hard work of transformation.

  At the end of the day, getting a prescription to a sedative or a tranquilizer is probably a much more effective “opiate” than meditation or contemplation.

  That’s not to say that these practices can’t be abused — I’m sure they can. But it would seem to me that anyone who is engaging in meditation or contemplation just to find inner peace or to avoid conflict will probably give it up sooner rather than later. Because the rewards of this kind of practice are only discerned over time — and in the meantime, if you are doing meditation right, you will find much more inner turmoil than inner peace — because you’re human, and that’s the human condition!

  But still, the question remains: can meditative practices actually help to make the world a better place? I certainly believe so. But meditation moves slow like a tortoise, not fast like a hare. Those who insist on immediate results, whether in psychological self-improvement or in social engineering, will likely chafe at the long approach to history (and transformation) that meditation represents.

  Every generation has injustices and systems of privilege and violence that need to be urgently addressed, now. And God bless those activists and revolutionaries who are willing to do the hard work necessary to agitate for immediate change. But I must say, I personally think they will all be more effective at what they do if they undergird their political activism with a sustainable daily spiritual practice.

  But we have seen too much bloodshed in history, spilled in the interest of social or political revolutions — only to create new systems that are just as unjust as those they replaced. There is, in the end, only one real and sustainable revolution: the revolution of higher consciousness propelled by authentic love. Contemplative and meditative practices are in the business of cultivating both compassion and higher consciousness, so these are the necessary tools for the only real revolution that will last — and will not create more problems than it solves. But again: this is slow-moving and long-term. Many will chafe at that. Which is why I think all real efforts to cultivate real social or political change must combine the urgency activism for immediate change with a persevering commitment for lasting transformation, that begins with each of us taking responsibility for our own inner transformation.

  So when you sit down to be silent before the Ultimate Mystery, be mindful that what you are doing is “dangerous” — not in the sense that it will hurt you, but in the sense that it really is powerful enough to change you from the inside out. But this “dangerous” tool is also powerful enough to change the world, as long we each commit to the essential first step: the long, slow, relentless process of first changing the world within each of us.

  Featured image: Police Officers in Canada learn meditation at a Buddhist center.

  January 23, 2020

  Contemplation, healing, inner peace, meditation, mindfulness, Transformation, Via Mystica

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• How Saint Benedict Can Help Us Grow Spiritually

  How can the wisdom of the monastery help folks like you and me — who are not monks or nuns — to grow spiritually?

  To answer that question, we can begin by looking at The Rule of Saint Benedict.

  The Rule of Saint Benedict remains one of the great classics of western spirituality, even though it was written for a very small and specific audience: monks and nuns. What on the surface looks like an administrative manual for the smooth operation of a monastery is actually a text full of profound wisdom.

  There’s so much there. In a short document (about 13,000 words, less than half the size of a typical paperback book), Benedict talks about prayer, humility, silence, hospitality, the spirituality of work, how to form and manage a community, all while turning one’s heart, mind, and eyes to the “deifying light” — the light of God which transfigures us from the inside out.

  While some sections of the Rule may seem overly administrative or obsolete (like Benedict’s detailed instructions over which Psalms should be prayed on what days, or his clearly pre-modern ideas about how best to discipline unruly boys), virtually all of its 73 chapters contain nuggets of spiritual insight.

  Today, however, I want to focus on just one sentence that comes toward the end of the book (chapter 58), in which Benedict spells out what a monk’s vows should consist of. Even if, like me, you are never going to make vows to become a nun or a monk, you may find the spirituality of these three vows to be a rich invitation to your own spiritual growth.

  Here’s the sentence, first in Latin and then in English:

  Suscipiendus autem in oratorio coram omnibus promittat de stabilitate sua et conversatione morum suorum et oboedientia.
  When [a new monk] is to be received, he comes before the whole community in the oratory and promises stability, fidelity to monastic life, and obedience.

  — Rule of St. Benedict 58.17

  So the vows of a monk or nun include:

  • stabilitate — stability
  • conversatione morum — fidelity to monastic life
  • oboedientia — obedience

  How can we relate the Benedictine Vows to life today? Words like stability, fidelity and obedience seem like quaint values, if not even dysfunctional, in today’s sophisticated but individualistic society. Perhaps we can unpack these terms a bit, and then we can more readily see their treasures.

  Stabilitate implies staying put, being grounded, being centered. For a monk or nun this was eminently practical: he or she vowed not to leave the community when things got tough. Those of us outside the monastery may find it impractical to commit to live in just one place: work or financial considerations may make it imperative to move. 

  So for us, the invitation is to an inner stability, being grounded not just in relation to the land where we find ourselves, but to the place within where we meet Christ and commit to live according to His teachings. So stability is really about relationship — just like a monk has a relationship to his monastery, so each of us is called to stability in all our relationships: to the land where we live, and also to our family, our community, and most important of all, to Christ.

  Therefore stability also invites us into integrity and authenticity, because the only way we can persevere in stable relationships is by being honest about who we truly are. It’s the “know thyself” vow.

  Conversatione Morum is perhaps the hardest of the vows the translate into English. The translation I quoted, by Timothy Fry, renders it as “fidelity to monastic life,” but other translators render it as “faithfulness to the way of life” (Luke Dysinger), “conversion of his way of life” (Carolinne White), or simply “to live as a monk” (Meisel & del Mastro). Google translate renders conversatione morum as merely “way of life.”

  If the first vow implies stability and groundedness, this one is more dynamic. It’s also a vow of commitment — of fidelity — but it is a commitment to a way of life that implies that ongoing healing, growth and transfiguration: in other words, ongoing conversion.

  This vow acknowledges that spirituality is not something mastered with a single decision or a one-time commitment. It requires on-going choices and commitment.

  Stability means knowing who you are, especially in relationship with others; fidelity to the spiritual life means making a commitment to grow, and understanding that growth and healing take time.

  The third vow may be the most scary one of all. Oboedientia — obedience — is a word we almost instinctive recoil at, assuming that it implies an unhealthy relationship based on power dynamics of dominance and submission. We think of the ordinary citizens of Nazi Germany who obediently committed crimes against humanity. If that’s what obedience is, who needs it?

  Thankfully, that’s not what obedience is — at least not in a Benedictine sense.

  Obedience comes from a Latin root word that implies not submission but listening — look at its similarity to the word “audience.” So at its root, obedience is about listening, paying attention, being mindful. For a monk this has a practical dimension of following the monastic chain of command: giving the Abbot and other community leaders the respect due to their office, if not to the individuals themselves.

  But on a deeper, more spiritual level — for all people, not just monks or nuns — obedience means listening for the still small voice of God.

  A spirituality of obedience is a spirituality of contemplative listening. It is a spirituality of mindfulness — of what St. Paul calls “having the mind of Christ” (1 Corinthians 2:16). In Philippians 2, St. Paul links the mind of Christ with kenosis, or emptiness.

  Mindfulness, in this contemplative sense, means emptying ourselves of our agenda for power and control, instead adopting a gentle, spacious posture of willingness and listening. In short, a spirituality of obedience is a spirituality of contemplative silence.

  And in that space of contemplative silence, of deep listening, we make ourselves available to the very self-knowledge and continual conversion that we seek, that comes from within by the grace of the Holy Spirit.

  So there it is. A spirituality that begins with stable relationships and self-knowledge, opens up to continual growth and healing, which is facilitated through a lasting commitment to silent, contemplative prayer. This is what Benedict asks of his monks and nuns. And it is available to all of us who seek to walk in the ways of the Mystery of Christ.

  August 19, 2015

  conversatione morum, mindfulness, monastic life, obedience, Rule of Saint Benedict, St. Benedict, stability, vows, way of life

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• Mindfulness and Contemplation

  

  Recently a reader left the following comment on this blog:

  I have been reading and tried to practice the way of a contemplative life although poorly I believe. But my hunger for anything on the topic of contemplation continues. Recently I have also been enticed into “mindfulness” practices. Now what or how do you relation contemplation and Mindfulness? They’re beginning to sound that there is a correlation? Thank you!

  Thanks for your comment. First of all, we are all “poor” when it comes to contemplation; it is the human condition to have distracted minds, unruly emotions, and fidgety bodies; our fast-paced, hi-tech, entertainment-besotted culture generally makes it worse. So please be gentle with yourself. When you enter your time for silence in the presence of God, seek to be gentle, to relax, to rest in the unseen presence.

  Allow every distracting thought and emotion which arises within you to be simply another reminder that you seek the silence and the rest which lies deeper within. There’s an old joke that the princess has to kiss a lot of frogs before she finds her prince — likewise, contemplatives have to gently turn away from many distractions before we find rest in the silence.

  Mindfulness comes from a Pali word, sati, which means “mindfulness” or “awareness” and points to an important concept within Buddhist meditation practice — indeed, “right mindfulness” is the seventh of the Buddha’s Noble Eightfold Path. So in a general sense, mindfulness (awareness) is simply a foundational element of a meditation practice: awareness, clarity, attentiveness, these are the core elements of mindfulness.

  It implies waking up from the web of distractions that normally cloud human consciousness, so that we may engage with life from a place of intentional, “being present” to what simply and truly is, rather than remaining lost in the funhouse of our never-ending internal commentary and criticism of what we experience.

  So, while it has a Buddhist provenance, mindfulness in this sati sense is simply a positive quality that emerges from any kind of disciplined meditation practice (and Christian contemplation or silent prayer does qualify as a meditation practice). But I suspect when you speak of mindfulness, you may be referring to the secularized meditation/wellness practice called “Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction” or MBSR, which was developed by Jon Kabat-Zinn at the University of Massachusetts Medical School in the 1970s.

  Kabat-Zinn is a student of Buddhism, but it’s my understanding that MBSR explicitly intends to be a non-religious practice, aimed at mental and physical well-being. I’ve only taken one MBSR class, and was taught several practices, including a generic type of meditation, some gentle yoga postures, meditative walking, and “body scanning” (a relaxation technique involving paying attention in a gentle way to each part of the body while sitting or lying down). It’s my understanding that this has become a hot topic in research circles, looking for measurable benefits that MBSR practice can provide to people who suffer from chronic pain, anxiety, depression, or other concerns.

  There’s a kind of trendiness to mindfulness practices. And naturally, that has led to a bit of backlash, too. The Spectator in the United Kingdom recently ran an article by Melanie McDonagh called Mindfulness is Something Worse Than Just a Smug Middle Class Trend. It’s well worth reading. Here’s a snippet for you:

  An important element of the practice is to eschew judgmentalism; to observe and accept ourselves and our surroundings with compassion. Which sounds dandy, except that there are some things about ourselves and our situation which we jolly well shouldn’t be non-judgmental about, which we should be trying to change… This brings me to what really annoys me about being mindful, which is that as far as I can gather, it’s Mostly About Me. Sitting concentrating on your breathing is a good way to chill out and de-stress, but it’s not a particularly good end in itself. Radiating compassion is fine, but it doesn’t obviously translate into action. Where’s the bit about feeding the hungry, visiting the prisoner, all the virtues that Christianity extols? Where in fact is your neighbour in this practice of self-obsession? … Mindfulness may be the new religion — but it’s no substitute for the old one.

  Is she being a bit unfair? You can decide for yourself. But I can tell you, she’s not the only one who worries about this. In fact, I first ran into criticism of the mindfulness movement from Buddhists, who were concerned that it was a “dumbing down” of Buddhism that gave consumeristic Americans a handy little practice for feeling good, but without the ethical and transformational demands of the Buddha’s teachings.

  Christians, likewise, recognize that silent prayer needs to be embedded in an entire life oriented to being more Christ-like: in other words, the proof of our spiritual maturity lies not in how good our silent prayer is, but in how good our actions are.

  But let me hasten to say that I am hesitant to simply say I agree with McDonagh and that the mindfulness fad is bad news. I don’t go that far, because I do believe MBSR really does have health & wellness benefits. Here’s how I see it: secular mindfulness practices are good, Buddhist and other eastern meditation practices are better, and theo-centric (God-centered) contemplative practices (like Christian silent prayer) are the best of all.

  Why do I make this claim? In silent prayer, we seek not only wellness (the purpose of MBSR) and enlightenment (the aim of eastern meditation), but also intimacy with God.

  Granted, I am writing as a Christian, with a Christian world-view, and others are free to disagree with me. But what I love about Christian spirituality is that I’m never alone: I’m always invited into the presence of Unconditional Love, who is not just a “force” but a Person. I enter silence because God loves me and because intentional, prayerful silence is a way to respond to that love (Psalm 46:10) and even a way to praise that love (Psalm 65:1).

  It’s also about becoming a more Christ-like person, which means a holy person, or at least someone who seeks to be holy. It means self-emptying, or kenosis. It means entering silence not merely as a means of self-help or personal growth, but in the interest of an ever-deepening relationship — with God, with Love.

  But wellness is good, and MBSR is a wonderful way to use meditation and other relaxation/awareness practices in the service of wellness. Likewise, the quest for enlightenment or illumination is good, and eastern spiritual practices like shamatha or zazen are great tools in the service of that kind of spiritual growth or even liberation. What I love about Christian silent prayer — contemplation — is that it includes all of the above, but goes even further, in that it is grounded not just in wellness or in personal enlightenment, but in union with God — union with Divine Love. That’s what keeps me returning to the silence every day.

  Thanks for your question. And enjoy your journey!

  July 15, 2015

  Contemplation, contemplative prayer, MBSR, meditation, mindfulness, Prayer, silence

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