Resuming concentration practice as a primary practice

I have a hankering to take up concentration practice again as a primary practice. For the purpose of this post, concentration practice is synonymous with samatha practice and the word concentration is synonymous with samadhi. The fundamental form of concentration practice, as I've been taught, is anapanasati (breath) meditation, specifically with the breath at the nostrils as object.

I first learned concentration practice at a weekend retreat with Tina Rasmussen and Stephen Snyder in August 2009. During that retreat I thought I'd attained access concentration (where attention is on the object--the breath at the nostrils--almost effortlessly). This was very encouraging. After that, I signed up for their 2-week year-end retreat. In the weeks before the retreat I practiced 1-2 hours every morning so that I'd hit the ground running on the retreat. The retreat was challenging but mostly exciting and enjoyable, and Tina said I'd attained the first jhana (a very deep state of absorption) around the 9th day of the retreat.

I was excited to develop my skill in this area, so I signed up to sit with Tina and Stephen's teacher Pa Auk Sayadaw at the Forest Refuge September-October 2011. Meanwhile, my daily practice was mindfulness meditation. I didn't see any advantage in having concentration practice as my daily practice in the mean time. When I arose from mindfulness practice I tended to feel equanimous, whereas when I arose from concentration practice I tended to be irritable. More importantly, it seemed that concentration practice was only useful in the context of building concentration for jhana, and this could happen only in retreat-like settings. I did do concentration practice during a 4-day weekend in April 2011, and I also did it as my daily practice in the weeks leading up to the Forest Refuge retreat.

The Forest Refuge retreat was very challenging. I thought I'd attained jhana on the 4th day, but my teacher said I had not. During the first few days of the retreat I developed an aversion to concentration practice. There was constriction in my right throat (and also sometimes in my right belly, chest, and/or head) that was associated with an unpleasant emotion. I now see that emotion as an aversion to being forced or forcing myself. When this constriction was present I was averse to concentration practice (and, indeed, averse to doing anything other than distracting myself). The remainder of the retreat was a dance with this aversion. The final two weeks I stopped doing concentration practice entirely and went back to mindfulness practices. The retreat was very fruitful (see other blog posts for details) but left me with strong aversion to concentration practice.

Coming home, I went back to mindfulness meditation, eventually using noting as my main practice under Beth Resnick-Folk's guidance, and, according to her, attained stream entry in July 2012.

I went back to concentration practice for a weekend retreat with Tina and Stephen in, I think, late 2012, and then for a 2-week retreat with them in spring 2013. During the 2-week retreat I again developed aversion to the practice.

I had noticed that when I'd been away from the practice long enough, the aversive reaction subsided and I could do the practice for a few sittings or even a few days with great pleasure. It's a practice that cultivates joy, and that is pleasant!

After the 2-week with Tina and Stephen, I stopped doing retreats for a long while. Then I did a short retreat in January 2016. I chose concentration practice for the pleasure of it. Immediately after that I did the Liberation Unleashed program (which I highly recommend for anyone interested in seeing through the illusion of self) and focused on inquiry into the nature of my direct experience for the subsequent 12 months. That brings me to today.

I quit my job at the Institute for Systems Biology six weeks ago. I had planned to vigorously embark upon a new career in free-lance dementia care, but a couple days after leaving ISB I realized that there was no need to rush into being busy with the new career. I decided that 2017 would be a year of relaxed exploration.

During 2016, my interest in long periods of meditation practice greatly diminished as I became interested in the concept of sudden awakening. Then, three weeks ago, Z invited me to join her for a 2-day meditation retreat at her parents' beautiful lakeside home while they were out of town. I began the retreat with six-elements practice. A friend had sent me an article about this practice, and I was curious. I did a few sessions of this practice, then felt like giving it a rest. I transitioned to concentration practice for the pleasure of it.

And then, just a few days ago, the thought arose, "I'd like to immerse myself in concentration practice once again to see where it takes me, now that I am 5+ years more mature than I was at the Forest Refuge. I have the space in my life to do this, and this space is an incredible treasure. I can immerse myself in home practice, enjoying the comforts of home and avoiding the expense and discomfort of retreat centers."

I re-read my journal from the Forest Refuge. This was the first time I'd re-read it carefully since 2011. I was curious just what the difficulties had been for me. I know some things now that I didn't know then:

First, I know more about the constrictions in the right throat, belly, chest, and head. I know that I can create ease for myself by offering myself compassion. I better understand the importance of such self-compassion, and I have more tools for expressing that compassion, specifically dialoging with the inner child. I have been supported in these practices by Beth Resnick-Folk and by Tina and Stephen, so I have a lot more confidence now than I did in 2011 that these practices are wholesome and supportive, not just a weak distraction from real practice.

Second, I know that concentration practice is wholesome in and of itself, even if it does not lead to jhana. Tina and Stephen had said this, but I didn't really believe it until U Jagara said it to me during an interview at the Forest Refuge retreat. Each hour spent in this practice leads to a better understanding of what concentration is, and a more intimate relationship with the meditation object (the breath). I am more able to immerse myself in the practice without goal-orientation. I see a bit more clearly that to long for and look forward to jhana is a form of craving just as hindering as craving for mundane sense pleasures.

Third, I have a less confining idea of what intensive practice looks like. I learned that, at the Forest Refuge retreat, Joon read the New York Times every morning, and Shaila worked on her book every evening. Whoa! I had thought, from Tina and Stephen's training, that it was of the utmost importance to keep such activities to an absolute minimum in order for jhana to arise, and thus had really pressured myself at the Forest Refuge.

The other day I did a bunch of concentration practice. Then I noticed the aversion I'd noticed at the Forest Refuge, an aversion connected to a constriction in the right throat. I honored the constriction, dialoged with the inner child, and did some garden work. Then I found myself eager to return to the concentration practice. Another time I did a meditation session where I alternated between attending to the breath at the nostrils and reassuring the inner child. Very unorthodox, but it feels right to me.

The impersonality of reactivity

When Z speaks strongly with a blaming message (whether blaming me or someone else), I react. First there is a tensing in the torso and a constriction of breathing. Thoughts arise: "I notice I am having an aversive reaction, but I would like to respond kindly and compassionately. I want to run away, but I'd like to stay present." After a minute or two, judgmental thoughts arise: "She's so hypocritical and uncompassionate!" And then after another minute or two, I attack her verbally. The strength and speed of the attack vary depending on whom she's blaming and the intensity of her expression. If she is blaming me or E, I react more strongly and quickly. If she is blaming a public figure, I am slower and less violent.

Even when her blaming message has a lot of truth to it, there is a strong impulse to align myself against her. Lately I have been looking at this more closely, thinking, "Much of what Z says, I agree with, and I myself have had a blaming attitude about this very thing. Z would feel supported if I expressed my alignment with her." I then consider expressing my alignment, but feel a very strong resistance. It feels as though by aligning myself with Z, I would be making myself very vulnerable, intolerably vulnerable. I can force myself to do it, but there is great internal conflict. The words come out haltingly.

Today, I rode home in the car with my friend E, whom I find challenging to be with. I noticed the reactions as they arose. E was impatient and complained about some issues that had delayed her from picking us up at the curb. An aversive reaction arose, then the thought, "E is so self-centered and blaming; I hate that about her." She leaned on the horn at a hesitant driver. An aversive reaction arose, then the thought, "This is why I don't like to ride with E; this is why I took the bus this morning." Another passenger in the car talked about getting lunch at Met Market. An aversive reaction arose, then the thought, "I don't like people who like Met Market; it's overlit, overpriced, and overly bourgeois." I realized more deeply than before that most of my opinions are formed in order to distinguish myself from others. I wondered: do I find E challenging precisely because she exhibits many aspects of myself that I dislike? I had always thought I found her challenging because we were very different, but maybe the opposite is true.

I do sometimes align myself with others, though. I am very aligned with Z on the importance of meditation and spiritual practice. Although I leap to distinguish myself from her in many areas, in this area I do not recall ever trying to distinguish myself from her. We have been aligned for five years. So on what topics, or under what circumstances, do I feel compelled to distinguish myself?

The last couple of days, reflecting in these ways, I'm realizing that my personality is really as distasteful and challenging as anybody else's, but that I am constantly telling myself stories to cover that up. Stories about how rational I am, how insightful, how open-minded, how patient, how well I am able to see the other side of every situation. What I try not to see is that I am very defensive and that I use my power to get my way, noticeable most recently in my relationship with Z.

What helps me see and accept these things is seeing more and more that my personality is pretty much out of my control. In the car today, noticing the aversive reactions, it was obvious that the reactions weren't something I was doing. They were just arising. As were the subsequent opinions. Makes me really want to question my opinions.

Some of the contents of my mind this morning

I don't feel inspired to write, but yesterday Sandy told me how much she and Gerry enjoy my posts. And I've been wanting to get back into blogging again, now that I have more time. So let's just get over the hump and write something here.

It's 9:44 a.m.; I feel bad about myself right now. Writing here highlights that; the resistance to writing likely was related to avoiding the self-judgment. The bad feeling is associated with one of my psychology's signature thoughts: "I am doing the wrong thing right now." I am sitting in my bathrobe, it is late morning, and I haven't gotten started on any of the things I really should be doing. Like what? For this mind, there's always something. Today it's contacting Water Protectors who have been arrested. Or, if not that, finding ways to get involved in the dementia care community. (I'd like to volunteer, but not in any ongoing, committed way, and I'm unsure how to find that.)

I'm feeling sad that, this afternoon, Zarina will be leaving to spend two weeks at her parents' house in Kirkland, and tomorrow, Eric will be leaving to spend four days at Fort Ebey producing a very large trail run. When they're both here, I feel crowded, claustrophobic, and irritable. But I imagine that when they're both gone, I'll feel lethargic and bad about myself a lot. Perhaps I should schedule those four days as a personal retreat where I do inquiry, dialog, and meditation on the bad feeling.

Today I was browsing through writings I've kept over the years (accompanied by the refrain, "I am doing the wrong thing right now") and I found a missive I'd written in summer of 2008 after a session with Dr. I, my previous psychotherapist. I was winding down my time with him (I moved to Seattle that August):

Yesterday I asked Dr. I how to think about my psychology. To the best of my recollection (which is always biased and always inaccurate), he said, “Think about how [or why?] you find it so important to believe that I am about to leave you, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.” 

At the time, I came up with the following (highlighted):

What benefits do I receive from believing that Dr. I despises me and wishes to leave me?

• I was right all along. Therefore, superior. I like to be superior because it means I don’t need people and I am a distance from people.
• I don’t have to look at my desire to leave him. This is very uncomfortable for several reasons:
  • I think endings are always tragic
  • I think he wants to retain control over me and manipulate me, and will punish me for leaving
  • I think that any action I choose for myself, including leaving him, will lead to disaster
  • My desire to leave him comes partly from my disturbing image of him as a bloodsucker (this image came to mind when I thought about paying him)

What benefits do I receive from believing that it would be a disaster for Dr. I to leave me?

• I don’t have to think about more important, and more difficult, things, because I can be obsessed with this one thing.

Dr. I also said yesterday that I can accept that I wish others ill (e.g. want to consume them or destroy them) instead of projecting that on others and thinking that they wish me ill. 

Right now, the thought is arising, "I should be able to go further with this. Now that I have some distance, and more maturity, I should be able to digest the above, keep it in mind, and use it to gain more insight," But I'm feeling resistance to actually attempting this. And there are beliefs underneath that thought that are likely unfounded: that Dr. I's advice is really juicy, valuable wisdom that is key to my happiness if only I'd be a good girl and follow the advice.