Clearing the Mind

Wherever I go, wherever I am, here it is, the hindrance of anxiety. The discomfort has been enough to make me want to figure out what to do with it. I have remembered Mingyur Rinpoche's teaching about turning the panic into the object of one's meditation. In between breaths, seeing the beast, and letting myself feel its whole effect on body, heart, and mind. Becoming further convinced of its invasive nature. I know I am holding the tiger by its tail, and I take heart. Sitting some more, I find two other hindrances trailing not far behind. Anger seems to be the source of the restlessness, and underneath the anger, desire for some guarantee of pleasantness. Hindrances often come in a pack . . .

Hindrances are part of the ordinary human experience. Our freedom lies in our ability to recognize them for what they really are, as opposed to falling prey to their deceiving ways. The mindfulness tradition provides us with a method for removing the hindrances:

1) Have a sense that the hindrance is an unbeneficial state of mind, e.g, I need not worry if there is nothing I can objectively do about the object of the worry. 

2) Separate the object of the hindrance from the hindrance itself, e.g, the problem is not the object of my worry, but the worrying itself. 

3) Let go of the negative thoughts that accompany the hindrance.  

To remove hindering thoughts, we are to follow the following sequence - from The Removal of Distracting Thoughts: 

1) Change the object of our thoughts to one that is skillful. Loving kindness is one such practice. We orient the mind and heart towards love. 

2) If still hindering thoughts, contemplate the drawbacks of those thoughts, particularly their effect in terms of stress on our body and mind. 

3) If still hindering thoughts, shift to ignoring the thoughts.

4) If still hindering thoughts, relax the fabrication of those thoughts. 

5) If still hindering thoughts, say a firm no to the thoughts. 

When feeling anger toward a person, we learn to subdue our anger, by practicing one of those five ways - from Subduing Hatred: 

1) Develop good will for the other person

2) Develop compassion for the other person

3) Develop equanimity toward the other person

4) Pay no attention to the person

5) Contemplate fact that the person is the in-heritant of his own karma

Other instructions aim at the same thing, namely to focus on the good qualities of the other person, and to realize our lack of control over another person's actions. 

In the end, letting go of the hindrances is the result of clearly seeing their detrimental impact on our own mental health, and of using skillful strategies to remove the disturbing thoughts at the root of the hindrances. 

The Way I Was Born

It's there, almost always. And I especially notice whenever I am sitting still.

'It' is an habitual state of fear that keeps on sticking and causing much unpleasantness. I used to think, if only I practiced long enough, maybe it would go away, for good. After all, Mingyur Rinpoche rid himself of a crippling panic disorder after three years going away on a retreat . . . 

More and more, I am inclined to give up that fantasy. Rather, I have come to see 'it' as part of the deal, a genetically inherited condition of semi-permanent anxiety, wired into me from birth and amply nurtured by a mother also dealt a similar card. My daughter, upon whom I can always count to tell me the truth, said to me the other day, "You are one of the most anxious persons I know!" She is right.

I remember an interview with Sylvia Boorstein last year on NPR:

I had reasons to be anxious as a child. My mother did have what they called in those days a weak heart. She'd had rheumatic fever as a child and she had, as a consequence, she lived with a chronic coronary insufficiency and I worried about that. She actually died when I was in my very early 20s, so I've passed more than 50 years now without a mother. I wish I'd had one longer, but when I was a child, I worried about it a lot. But you know what I've found, Krista? There are people who are given to fretting without a fretful environment. I think it's actually — it's a — it's a genetic glitch of neurology and that it happens to some people and not for other people.

Actually, the Buddha said we have one of five genetic fallback glitches when we're challenged. He said some people fret, some people get angry, some people lose heart and all their energy goes and they don't know what to do with themselves, some people think, "Uh-oh, it's me. I didn't do things right. It's always my fault. I messed things up." And some people need to be sensually soothed. They think, "Where's a donut shop? Where's the pizza?" People have different tendencies. It was very, very helpful for me as an adult to learn that because it completely comes without a judgment. I don't have to say I am a chronic fretter. I could say, you know, when I'm challenged, fretting arises in my mind and it's not a moral flaw. It's very good for people who have a short fuse to be able to think, "You know, I have this unusual neurological glitch."

I tell it to people that my glitch is that "when in doubt, worry." It came with the equipment. I'm also short and I have brown eyes. If I could see that in the same neutral, it just came with the equipment, then I don't have to feel bad about it, but I can work with it wisely. That's really the important part, when we see as adults what it is that our fallback glitch is. You can say, "Uh-oh." And I think, in a certain way, that's a sign of wisdom when a person begins to be able to delineate this is what happens to me under tension.

As a piece of self-knowledge that makes a break in between a certain next step and that next step and say, "Whoa." So when I'm in an airport, for instance, or if I come to a place where I've agreed to meet my husband on a corner of a certain street at 5:00 and I come there at 5:00 and he's not there and it's five past five and he's not there, I could start to think maybe this, maybe that, maybe this, maybe that.

But I think to myself, wait a minute. That is just my peculiar neurological glitch kicking in. Probably not, you know, I could just wait here quietly. I could look in the windows. I could look at the people. I could say relaxing phrases to my own mind. I could wish well to the passersby. There are just lots of other things I can do.

Sylvia and I, and million others . . .

No Need For Panic

Sitting this morning, I found a succession of short, shallow breaths. The underline panic I have been feeling lately is still there, threatening to take over if I am not careful. 

Thirty years ago, standing on the sidewalk right by the Chicago L station, I encountered such breath, and not knowing, I gave in. Pretty soon, it felt as if I could no longer breathe. I was having a heart attack I thought and I called my doctor. He had me count until one hundred, without much success. The iron corset got even tighter, and I ended up in the ER. I got hooked up on the EKG machine. My heart was perfectly fine. I had just had a panic attack. 

Since that day, I have had a predisposition to panic. And I have learned ways to be with it. For a long time, I relied on the combined power of positive self-talk, belly breathing, and distraction. It worked. Somewhat.

What has really helped has been mindfulness practice, and particularly a deeper understanding of the role of one's attitude towards the panic itself. 

The Buddha himself has been my greatest teacher in that respect:

"Breathing in long he knows ‘I am breathing in long.’ 

Breathing in short he knows ‘I am breathing in short.’  

Breathing out long he knows ‘I am breathing out long.’ 

Breathing out short he knows ‘I am breathing in short.’ 

He trains himself ‘breathing in, I experience the whole body.’ 

‘breathing out, I experience the whole body.’ 

He trains himself, ‘breathing in, I calm the bodily formation.’ 

‘breathing out, I calm the bodily formation.’" 

~ Anapanasati Sutta ~

Breathing in short, I know 'I am breathing in short' . . . Breathing out short, I know 'I am breathing out short' . . . Breathing in, I experience the tightness around the chest . . . Breathing out, I experience the tightness around the chest . . . Breathing in, I make room for shallow breath, and tightness, and the possibility of maybe relaxing a bit . . . Breathing out, I continue to make room for the whole experience . . . I also include a more neutral experience in the body, such as the sensations in my hands or feet, giving mind a break from the breath. Then returning again to the breath . . . Breathing in short, I know 'I am breathing in short' . . . 

From this acceptance, the tight corset starts relaxing, giving breath more space to fill in the lungs, and mind a chance to calm down.

Such a subtle, and important shift.

Not panicking about the panic!

The Hazards of Unguarded Mind

She's been my teacher for the last week. 

Being with Betty has been a dramatic lesson in the perils of mind, when it has been unguarded for too long.  Betty's got an anxiety disorder so severe that she can no longer function. Her throat closes up and  she feels as if she is going to choke. Her legs go numb, and she is overtaken by weakness. Her mind fills up with thoughts of death and she begs to be shot. Her heart vacillates between terror and occasional bursts of anger. She cannot be left alone. Only drugs, and the continuous company of doctors and nurses bring her a tiny bit or relief. 

Layers after layers of accumulated mindlessness, exposed and wrapped up in pathology.

Slumped over in the couch, her hands entrusted in mine, she begs me to please relieve her from her misery. She wants to know that I care, and that I believe in the reality of her suffering. That I can do. When she tells me she is going to die, I see deluded mind in action. And I tell her. It may feel as if you are going to die, because your breath's gotten shallow, and your mind is visited by terrible thoughts. I suggest, instead of saying 'I am going to die', tell yourself 'It feels as if I am going to die, but I know better, I am not. I am still breathing, and talking.' Also, give your mind a bit of rest, and practice new thoughts. 'May I be at peace, may I be at ease. May I be at peace, may I be at ease.' Relaxing the mind.

There is work to do also with the body. Tightness all over needs to be dealt with. First, recognizing it, which is no problem for Betty. Where she goes wrong is in what she does with her perception and awareness. Not seeing the tensing against the primary tension, and how it contributes to her feeling more and more out of control. Being aware of the whole experience: the body's long held habit of reacting with tension, overlaid with great dislike and fear about that experience, then leading to more tension, ending in a knot so tight that air, and blood can barely pass through. 'Don't talk to me about deep breathing anymore. It does not work, only makes me worse.' Somewhere, Betty has learned that breath is to be used for her condition. The fact that she has been taught wrong has turned breath into a new enemy. Figuring we have enough to deal with, I decide to leave that one aside, for now at least . . . and to use the body instead. Focusing on the hands, and the sensations there. 'I feel cold and warm.' In that moment, Betty's mind is no longer focused on the tightness. Giving the mind a rest, purifying it. 

"Give me a shot, now!" In this moment, Betty believes only drugs can relieve her from her suffering. Another delusion to be addressed. Using mind against mind, and the power of memory to remember the extra suffering by the use of drugs when they wear out. And reintroducing the knowledge that working with her thoughts is as powerful and without the side effects. "You are forgetting the power of your mind. There is a lot you can do with your thoughts, and how you choose to deal with the panic." She nods. I take it as a small victory. 

"What did you use to enjoy before the panic came?" "I like music, classical music." Getting the mind out of its rut. One wholesome thought, one wholesome action at a time . . . She is open to listening to a Mozart CD.

There is the panic, and what led to it in the first place. Digging down deeper, and accessing the anger beneath. Lots of it. Another hindrance that's been marching for years into Betty's life. Meeting with her relatives, Betty's voice grows loud and she tells them how she feels. Betty's got a lot of work to do. She needs to see a therapist. 

Betty did not know. She let her house get so dirty over the years, that she can no longer live in it. Now is the time for heavy cleanup crew, and she has to roll up her sleeves. 

No need to wait that long. The fresher the grime, the easier to remove. Betty is calling me (us) to the tedious work of ongoing mindfulness. 

Being a Mother

The reality did not hit until earlier tonight. She is driving cross-country, by herself. And she is trying to make it in record time. And she is trying to save money and was talking about sleeping in her car at night. To appease us, she made a reservation at Hostel 66. For how many nights, I am not sure. 

Late afternoon she was in Arizona, aiming for Albuquerque. 

Sitting still, I watch the mind go nuts, and the throat tighten, and the stomach clinch, and fear spread through my whole body. And all my accumulated wisdom about the value of being in this moment, and of not giving into useless anxiety becomes of little use.

This is what being a mother does.