Watching the mind let go of a bad habit

I returned Friday from a 2 week retreat with Tina Rasmussen and Stephen Snyder on concentration meditation. Throughout the retreat I gave attention to sensations associated with trauma whenever they presented themselves strongly. At first this felt nourishing, but by day 9 of the retreat I didn't want to meditate and didn't want to look at the trauma sensations, and was left feeling isolated and trapped with the sensations. For the first time, I left a retreat with no desire to do another retreat anytime soon.

During the retreat I read a book on the Enneagram. In the past when I'd read such material, I'd identified myself as a 4, but this time I was beginning to see myself as a 6. People of personality type 6 have a deep desire for security and try to find security by aligning with an authority, an individual, or a group. They may also rebel against authorities, individuals, or groups. However, true security cannot be found by aligning or rebelling; it can only be found within oneself. Thus, these efforts of the 6 often lead to frustration.

Last night, in the middle of sleep, I came into a semi-wakeful state. I observed my mind do a remarkable thing. Some troubling circumstance of my life came to mind (don't remember what). I watched an urge arise to grasp and cling to a particular viewpoint associated with an authority. It was immediately apparent to me that I usually grasp and cling without even noticing the urge, but that in this case I was noticing the urge for perhaps the first time. Referring to what I'd learned about myself by reading about Enneagram type 6, I knew the urge would lead to folly. I let go of the urge. I then felt at sea, with nothing to hold onto. (Not unlike how I felt during my midday meditation of July 13, 2012.) I felt terror. I allowed the terror, and it eventually faded, allowing a sense of security to arise in its place.

I was in awe that my mind took a different direction than was its habit, and that I was able to observe the process in detail. I supposed that this was an after-effect of the retreat, that it was enabled by the resulting spaciousness of mind.

I continued to observe my mind after that, and noticed several similar processes ensue, with diminishing clarity and diminishing letting-go. Eventually I found myself with terror that would not fade. I remembered an instruction from my trauma recovery work: place attention on a part of the body that feels secure. I placed my attention on my right thigh, but the terror didn't diminish. I then fell back asleep.

It is said that insight can arise after a retreat's end. This seemed like an instance of that. It seemed miraculous. It gave me hope.