So many opportunities for practice

In our busy lives there are still so many moments throughout the day available for mindfulness practice. A great deal of my practice takes place during those moments. Perhaps a majority. The past several months, I've spent 5-60 minutes per day (average maybe 20) in my attic doing dedicated mindfulness practice, usually a slow walk during which I observe whatever mental or physical phenomena are most compelling. Most meditation teachers, by the way, would consider this a departure from standard Buddhist mindfulness practice, though how much of a departure would depend on the teacher.

But, in addition to that, I also habitually practice mindfulness while waiting at stoplights, waiting for computer programs to run, cycling home, or waiting for someone. These are moments during which people in our culture customarily surf the web, make plans, review the day, listen to music or podcasts, or read. It takes discipline to practice mindfulness during these moments, especially when one is a novice practitioner, because what one faces immediately is the compulsion to distract oneself with one of those more customary activities. One can bring mindfulness to that compulsion, or set that aside and bring mindfulness to the breath or some other object.

Today I made a commitment to keep Facebook and my personal email account closed at work. I usually turn to these when I am waiting for a computer program to run or when I am having difficulty focusing on the task at hand. Today I also made a commitment to use my meditation alarm clock and practice mindfulness every 20 minutes. This is something I did consistently during the months leading up to my 2-week jhana retreat in 2009-10, but have been less consistent about the past 12 months.

Today during my meditation breaks I've brought attention to the sensations associated with the idea of unsatisfactoriness, or "not rightness". Whatever I am doing, whatever my situation, if I am not drugged on alcohol or caffeine or adrenaline or fantasy, I typically experience the notion that I am not quite right, or that what I am doing is not quite right. Associated with this notion is a sensation of fullness in the upper right brain. I was not aware of this sensation until several months ago. Today I am trying to just notice it and accept it without blame. Doing this is both rewarding and agitating. Rewarding, because after I've done this for 30 seconds or so, the sensation becomes less solid and more dynamic and shimmery, and the notion of not-rightness lifts somewhat. Agitating, because underneath the not-rightness seems to be some kind of terror, something that keeps me from luxuriating in non-not-rightness. Fascinating work that requires discipline.

Can we handle knowing our minds in depth?

I read recently that there are two reasons we humans don't walk around in a continuous state of fear: denial and distraction. The premise is that the world is indeed a dangerous place, and we need these mechanisms in order to function.

With mindfulness meditation, we bring awareness to these mechanisms, eventually seeing beyond them to the underlying realities of our situation.

I once read that Jung thought most people wouldn't be able to handle the results of Buddhist meditation practice, that it would disturb important mental structures and we'd become less able to function in the world. Jung was a smart guy. Why was he wrong? Or was he wrong?

A friend who's a meditation practitioner has a couple of friends who've reached "first path" or "stream entry", a stage of practice where a chunk of one's sense of self becomes significantly less solid. She said that her friends, while glad about their achievements, are a bit cranky at the loss of that more solid sense of self.

We are just animals, evolved to reproduce. There is no reproductive advantage to knowing one's own mind. Our minds are not built to know themselves. It seems a bit conceited of us to think that we can do this safely.