I've known for years that exploration of the question, "Who am I?", is an important component of the path to liberation. However, this question did not interest me until now. A few days ago, inspired by reading Stephen Batchelor's Buddhism Without Beliefs, I began asking, "Where is my self?" It turned out it was very easy to answer that question. Each time I ask it, an answer comes to mind quite quickly. If I ask it now, the answer is, "My self is the tension I feel in the right side of my chest right now." More often than not, I consider my self to be located primarily in some sensation of tension. No wonder I am reluctant to let go of this tension! No wonder I re-create it unconsciously after letting go! And, no wonder my baseline mood is pessimistic and depressed: if I consider my self to be a sense of constriction, a suppression of vitality.
A fun exercise for me the past few days has been to repeatedly ask myself "Where is my self?", then, to place awareness on that thing, whatever it is, until it disappears.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Re-discovering fear of taking action
Why do I end most work days feeling depleted? I am gaining some understanding of this.
Fear of taking action -- touched on in my previous post -- is one. When I do something that wasn't ordered by another person, I seem to expect grave consequences. When I am in a very mindful state, meaning that I've done a fair amount of meditation that day to subdue the habit of constant thought, I notice sensations in the right side of my head, neck, and torso that suggest I'm expecting a giant to rain me with blows from above when I'm doing something I haven't been told to do. I'm more comfortable taking actions that are ordered by others: my boss, my co-workers, my partner, my parents, a teacher. Even my to-do list can suffice as a giver-of-orders: I feel a similar comfort if I put a task on a to-do list, then do it, rather than just do it.
Phenomena such as this are not discovered once, then assimilated. These are things that I re-discover over and over and over again. They need to be rediscovered because noticing these phenomena runs against some very deeply engrained habits of thought. Also, often when I rediscover such phenomena, I see them in a slightly deeper, richer way. My knowledge slowly builds upon itself. It's maybe how each time one looks at a work of art, one sees something new about it, or understands it in a deeper way.
Today the weather in Seattle is perhaps more summery than any previous day this season. After a morning meeting, I stood at my computer station and began to look at my work. I tried to first center myself by placing my awareness on bodily sensations. I noticed that, although I was quite adept and doing this, and was able to notice an unusually rich and even pleasurable set of sensations, I was also experiencing a very strong restlessness which felt like fear that I would be severely punished. Smashed. And then I thought, this is so strong, I ought to put my attention on the fear. But I didn't feel comfortable doing this at my desk, where there was some actual danger of being interrupted. So I walked to South Lake Union Park and continued this practice in the sunshine, on the lawn.
There, I spent about 15 minutes looking carefully at the sensations of fear. They are so strong and seemingly monolithic that my conscious mind is strongly pulled to believing their message: I will indeed be punished severely! There is real danger here! However, noticing the fear did lessen its hold on me somewhat. I walked back to work and felt calm and centered upon returning to my desk. Now, nearly 2 hours later, I still feel calm and centered. When my meditation timer goes off every 20 minutes, it is relatively easy to yield to the call, drop what I am doing, and direct my attention to the present. It is lovely to feel calm and centered and able to be in the present. My delight in this prompted me to write this post.
Fear of taking action -- touched on in my previous post -- is one. When I do something that wasn't ordered by another person, I seem to expect grave consequences. When I am in a very mindful state, meaning that I've done a fair amount of meditation that day to subdue the habit of constant thought, I notice sensations in the right side of my head, neck, and torso that suggest I'm expecting a giant to rain me with blows from above when I'm doing something I haven't been told to do. I'm more comfortable taking actions that are ordered by others: my boss, my co-workers, my partner, my parents, a teacher. Even my to-do list can suffice as a giver-of-orders: I feel a similar comfort if I put a task on a to-do list, then do it, rather than just do it.
Phenomena such as this are not discovered once, then assimilated. These are things that I re-discover over and over and over again. They need to be rediscovered because noticing these phenomena runs against some very deeply engrained habits of thought. Also, often when I rediscover such phenomena, I see them in a slightly deeper, richer way. My knowledge slowly builds upon itself. It's maybe how each time one looks at a work of art, one sees something new about it, or understands it in a deeper way.
Today the weather in Seattle is perhaps more summery than any previous day this season. After a morning meeting, I stood at my computer station and began to look at my work. I tried to first center myself by placing my awareness on bodily sensations. I noticed that, although I was quite adept and doing this, and was able to notice an unusually rich and even pleasurable set of sensations, I was also experiencing a very strong restlessness which felt like fear that I would be severely punished. Smashed. And then I thought, this is so strong, I ought to put my attention on the fear. But I didn't feel comfortable doing this at my desk, where there was some actual danger of being interrupted. So I walked to South Lake Union Park and continued this practice in the sunshine, on the lawn.
There, I spent about 15 minutes looking carefully at the sensations of fear. They are so strong and seemingly monolithic that my conscious mind is strongly pulled to believing their message: I will indeed be punished severely! There is real danger here! However, noticing the fear did lessen its hold on me somewhat. I walked back to work and felt calm and centered upon returning to my desk. Now, nearly 2 hours later, I still feel calm and centered. When my meditation timer goes off every 20 minutes, it is relatively easy to yield to the call, drop what I am doing, and direct my attention to the present. It is lovely to feel calm and centered and able to be in the present. My delight in this prompted me to write this post.
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