This is a beautiful and vulnerable essay, Don. I don't feel as though you maligned anyone, but shared your experience, perspective and gained wisdom. Relationships are complicated. Life is confusing. The gift of wise view and the space to reflect is how we make sense of these challenges. Keep sharing. Your words and thoughts and experiences are meaningful.
Oh, Don! I loved reading this! I adored the part where you spoke directly to your emotions (anger and jealousy) just like how I imagine them sitting around the table and vowing for my attention. (Fear always speaks the loudest!) It's a vulnerable but real account of your personal experience and the lessons you learned and I really, really enjoyed it! Thanks for sending the the recommendation!
Wow, thank you so much, Grace. I'm so glad you liked it. Mostly I just wanted to relate with you on how hard it is to break up with someone when so much of the relationship is good. I didn't include that in the essay, but leaving really was hard. That was back in 2006 and I still remember it so well. I struggled with the break-up words, held them inside for a week to see if they would just go away. When they didn't, I knew that I had to go through with it.
We can both relate to how hard it is to say words that we know will hurt someone, but when it hurts more not to say those words, you have to push through and do the hard thing.
Another wonderful read my friend. I feel that I can say my friend because although we have never met I believe that we would be. I do get such pleasure in reading your writings and am grateful for that.
I really love and appreciate how you are sharing these ideas through your own experiences. Like the visitors who come calling. I imagine my self doubt as a seagull. I’m not sure why I exactly except that I live between two lakes so seagulls are flying overhead often. They squawk, they fly on. Self-doubt and seagulls are common but they pass. Thanks 🙏
I've always loved washing dishes, I love the warm water running across my hands and up my arms, the playfulness of the bubbles, the textures of plates and bowls and cups, the process of clearing the sink. I never understood why people hated it so much. Zooming out, it's clear that mostly the distaste is in the association. The *chore* of it. Another thing on the to-do list, another five minutes of frustration that something different isn't happening. How funny.
And what a great story, Don. I greatly enjoyed it. A perfectly clear example of the idea, "as within, so without." Having experienced similar anxieties in early relationships, I can affirm, it does become quite a mess of tension (not the fun kind) and resentment and, indeed, a self-fulfilling prophecy. Whew! Belief is a powerful thing. "Nobody sees me. Something must be wrong with me. I should hide." What an insidious spiral of shame, at once causing self-immolation and the destructive, projective force that is emotion unexpressed.
Thank you, Faye, for this insightful reply. Both "frustration that something different isn't happening," and "Nobody sees me. Something must be wrong with me. I should hide," are very wise observations. The second is also an impressive summing up of something I wrote and wrote about and still didn't quite see!
The one problem with using the dishes as a practice of staying in and enjoying the moment is that so many people have dishwashers! (though that can be a practice too. Anything can!)
Thank you equally for the insightful story! Ha, you’re right. Being here, loading the dishwasher. Arranging everything just so. That could certainly be a thing to practice
We need more stories like this one. Compassionate portraits of former relationships from the male point of view. We have so many such stories from the female POV, or misogynist accounts. This was so evocative and educational for me as to how a sweet, observant man (that's how you portrayed yourself 😉) relates to and sees a sensitive, complex woman as your ex girlfriend. Thank you!
Well-shared, Don, in all its elements. I can see why this particular relationship came to mind in a piece about mindfulness, about finding a healthy relationship with our emotional landscape. I hope
I’ve spent my whole life with an unreliable emotional barometer - though of course that took me a painfully long time to understand. When I did eventually search out tools to practice in response, they happened to be very much like what you described here :) "Just being willing to sit with whatever is, sitting quietly and observing..." "...treat the contents of your mind in the same way: with care and attention."
These are lessons I wish all of us could learn as early as possible, and especially those of us chased around by strong and destructive emotions - so I'm very glad you chose to share in this very personal and practical way on this topic. (I was actually really excited to see one of your commenters below talk about sharing this with their 9yo, how wonderful!)
Thank you, Sydney. That's actually very helpful (for a side project let's just say). I do think I find your phrase the better one. Perhaps the DSM could use a little Sydney on their board! :-)
Thank you, Sydney. So nice to hear your response, and thank you for sharing your own feelings. In fact, I am curious about the phrase "unreliable emotional barometer." Is it yours or something used in the field of mental health? It's so affirming to have words or phrases that help name something that you or a loved one experience.
It does sound kind of medical doesn't it? It's my own phrase, so purely descriptive. I just personally think of my emotional response like a sensor that's meant to help me gauge my circumstances, but it's on the fritz. Sometimes it reads true - but other times it fails to alert to problems, and more often it wildly alarms at non-issues. 🤣
I do agree - I do a fair amount of casual reading on these topics as they come across my news feed, and I appreciate the continued advances in identifying, describing, and giving a working vocabulary to mental health topics. I think a current clinical term is "emotional dysregulation," which comes with an evaluative "Difficulties in Emotional Regulation Scale." It seems like it would have been super-useful to have these tools and conversation guides when I was younger!
Great essay! I thought you showed deep respect and compassion for your ex. I look back at my youger, more insecure self and see some similarities. I love the way you write about welcoming in anger and anxiety.
Thank you! That was my hope; that anyone reading this who might relate with S. would not feel disparaged or criticized, but rather, seen and recognized. Recognized as a complex, nuanced, deeply feeling, evolving person with Value.
I'm enjoying reading about how you think, Don. Although I've known you for a long time, I don't feel as though I know you at all. We've never really shared anything about ourselves. Thank you for sharing yourself with all of us, it has much value.
"What am I not doing that I should be doing?" Boy, do I know how that feels!
"but you’re only getting tea, not dinner" — This dialogue with your emotions is fascinating to me. I am curious on your thoughts regarding nondualism, in the sense of not separating the experiencer from the experience (far too challenging of a topic to give justice to in the comments section, I think), but maybe as I continue to receive the gift of your words, I'll have a clearer idea of your perspective. (And/or, I should probably read some Thich Nhat Hanh.)
The idea of trying to limit an emotion's stay in your mind ("not dinner") feels a bit counter to the idea of simply letting them be and observing them. The urge to be rid of painful emotions is so strong. Sometimes it almost feels like a trick when we try to say, "Oh, I am indifferent to your presence, oh anxiety, and will just notice you as you are" (with fingers crossed behind our backs).
I don't mean to spark a debate, nor do I have any right answers. But I love the way you make me think. Thank you!
I don't feel you are debating at all, and your question is absolutely valid, one I observe in myself often. (and it is a big question so my response likely won't address it completely)
First, I should have made clearer that "dinner" doesn't represent a period of time that I am allowing but rather the amount of energy one gives to, or the amount of giving over completely to, these negative emotions. I speak from experience when I say that by taking this attitude toward negative feelings (non-judgmental observing), I have found myself able to at the very least withhold from reacting, from believing what they are telling me about the conditions outside myself (whether that person I'm arguing with is right or wrong, whether I am a failure or untalented or whatever, weather my worries are justified, etc.) The more I practice, the more I am able to breath through emotions and actually feel better when I remember that they are not here to stay. (Sure they will probably return but we are talking about here and now. If I worry that I can't rid myself of them forever, then I am again projecting instead of paying attention to the moment)
Second: Sometimes, during an emotional storm, I will try reminding myself that feelings are impermanent, that they are just formations of the mind, BUT, I will also be aware that I am only repeating an intellectual idea to myself. That I don't "feel" better because of it. Emotions are powerful. But guess what? It doesn't matter because later on, the feeling has passed. And I remember that I did indeed know that that would be the case, even if it didn't help much in the moment. And I take note of this, and next time I remember how it was and I'm perhaps a little more calm knowing how the whole process is going to play out. It's all a slow process, and it starts with just being willing to take time to observe the self without the goal of changing it. That goal of changing is what causes tension and dissatisfaction.
When you talk about it feeling like a "trick" to claim indifference, note that you are still holding onto the goal to be rid of negative feelings. That desire will get you every time. We will never be rid of negative emotions because they are the other side of the emotion coin, happy on one side and sad on the other. Or whatever the two opposites are. Because we are human, we have emotions. Wisdom is in accepting that, not conquering it.
I better leave it at that for now, but thanks, Mike, for the engagement. And if this is not helpful, tell me. Writing fast is not my forte. We should get coffee, haha.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful response. I still find myself getting tied up in intellectual pretzels when I try to "solve" problems like this, and I think that's entirely the point. They can't be solved, certainly not by words and thoughts. But, words and thoughts can get our conscious minds to point the rest of our selves in the right direction. Namely, that it's about practice, about doing (or not doing), about being, and simply noticing.
No worries about the fast writing; I totally get it. And your reply was clear regardless!
If you don't mind my asking, at what age did you begin to engage actively with mindfulness, meditation, and such things? I'm in my late 30s now, and didn't really start learning and practicing until my mid 30s, just a few years ago. It's been a lovely journey so far, full of discovery yet still full of unknowns (it wouldn't be much fun otherwise!).
Very similar to what you describe, one of my most useful insights so far has been something along the lines of, "Wow, that's what you were so worried about? Now that the event has come and gone, it's clear the level of anxiety you felt beforehand was not worth it." (Dialogue with myself.) The more I can remember and re-remember this, the less of a chokehold anxiety and similar emotions have on me.
You said it, Mike, it's about practice, doing/not doing, being, noticing.
I'm actually glad you wrote (I will try to remember to answer all your questions. I did forget to answer a part of your last question, about duality and the experiencer vs the experience).
You see, lately it has really been coming into my awareness that a lot newcomers (and maybe old-comers) to mindfulness/meditation/buddhism struggle with concepts that either don't make sense to them, or that they are unable to experience or realize in actual practice. And I am trying to think of a way to respond to that struggle. The struggle is the issue, not the specific answers to the specific struggles.
Ajahn Sumedho says "Buddhist teaching is a non-doctrinal teaching in which you're encouraged to find things out for yourself." He's not just give the idea lip service. It's really what it's all about. And you reference that, Mike, when you talk about words pointing in the right direction. I think the problem is that even then, people think that these "things" that they are going to find out are actual things that you can come into possession of, like some secret knowledge or divine gift or revelation. Or it's like a maze, where you will only find the referenced treasure (which the wise teachers know about but are keeping from you so you'll find it on your own) if you go the right way, but only then.
That is still goal-oriented.
The path itself is the goal. The deep looking, the understanding of self and all its true motivations. These understandings not as a step to a higher realization, but the understandings themselves as wisdom. So we must really value self-reflection (which is human reflection) and not think of it as a means to an end.
You gotta really get what "non-doctrinal" means, I think. There is nothing to "believe," nothing to achieve, nothing to obtain, nothing to memorize and put into practice. It really is about learning to look at how things really are, in the here and now. And finding peace with that. All of the Dharma teachings exist for that one point.
Of course having help with methods of doing that is invaluable. For me it has been mostly through reading many books by people who have been practicing for years. But not by memorizing or copying or believing what they say. Rather they have helped me look at myself.
What is the main thing I see when I look at myself? That I need to be validated.
Why? Because it scares the shit out of me to be "nothing."
Now, that's what I see about myself, that I am afraid to be nothing, to be meaningless, so what do I do with that information? Well, what I've been doing all my life is running from it. Through books, movies, relationships, activities, through trying to become something significant, like an artist, craftsman, business owner, musician, author, through obtaining wealth, through some kind of success that will prove to me that I am something, not nothing.
Now it is time to turn that endless, fruitless pursuit on its head. And that is the big turning point. So what to do now? To go ahead and look at "nothing" square in the face. To see that it is absolute, pure nature. And what the heck is wrong with being nature?
Meditation is practicing facing that nothingness, that emptiness, what they call non-self, and coming to terms with it. Realizing that it is actually not a scary place at all.
I'll stop there for now.
Oh, I'm 59 and only started practicing very regularly four years ago but, like you, I'll bet, have been searching for meaning all my life. I first read the Tao Te Ching a long time ago. I first tried meditation at about your age, with stops and starts, and reading Alan Watts and Krishnamurti mostly, finding my way very slowly. Actual Buddhist reading came much later, along with my regular meditation practice. (Book that inspired my final dedicated path: The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching by Thich Nhat Hanh, picked up at a used bookshop in Kona, Hawaii).
I am on Cape Cod, by the way, so I don't know if we'll be meeting for coffee! :-)
This is great stuff, Don. I really appreciate you taking the time to write these detailed responses.
Yes, I have noticed that the human mind in general likes things to be black and white, concrete, made of objects with definite borders in space and time. Or even for abstract concepts, our tendency seems to be to assume they have some perfect correspondence with the real world. I see this incredibly strongly in my own children, even (or especially?) at age 1. At this point in my life, I believe that there are no true objects in this way. Language itself is a kind of general purpose poetry, wherein humans can communicate by making sounds/scribbles that remind other humans of experiences they've had, even though the words themselves have no meaning at all, and even if they did, there's nothing absolute for them to refer to. (See the "gavagai" problem.) As Watts put it (yes, as you would guess, I'm a fan), "Poets know that nothing can be described." A related idea also from Watts is that the only object is the entire universe, and the only event is the entire happening/becoming/lifespan of the universe. Forgive me; I tend to wax philosophical very quickly in any given conversation.
(Why the universe would result in beings with conscious experiences, who then go on to invent/evolve language, mathematics, and all these other ways of attempting to concretize an inherently ungraspable universe...I have no idea. But I am continually awestruck by this.)
All this to say...yes, we could write millions of words back and forth and I probably wouldn't be any closer to being at peace with whatever "I" am. (Oops, there's the goal-oriented language again.)
I'm itching to hear more about your own take on what it means to face the nothingness, the not-self. Your suggestion to meet in person makes sense, since at least there are more channels available for communication than mere typed words. And you are correct in its logistical difficulty, me being here on the west coast. Perhaps someday. (Stranger things have happened.)
I guess for me right now...I just try to find joy in the not-knowing, and all the "knowing" dancing around that ineffable, indescribable Truth. I think my recent fascination with poetry comes from this. I have always dearly loved language, and now that I see its own nothingness, I want to look that nothingness square in the eyes and see what kinds of feelings it can stir up in myself and others that, rather paradoxically, defy words.
I'm going to add The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching to my list. Thanks!!
So glad to have found you on here. Substack has a lot going for it, despite the various controversies. Time to sleep for now!
This is such a nice letter, Mike. I'm glad to have "met" you, too. And it's funny that you should write "we could write millions of words back and forth..." because after writing you last night I had the uncomfortable feeling that I had missed the mark or something. I went to my journal and wrote these simple words: "Better to listen and understand than to teach."
I am listening now, and I hear that you are already quite advanced at reflecting on the self, the world, evolution, and such. I like when you say "I just try to find joy in the not-knowing" because there certainly seems to be a limit on what we can know. But knowing is a job for the mind anyway, and I think we are much more than our minds. I won't go on and on about that except to share an analogy (maybe you could even call it a "koan.") that I just now thought of:
If I were to dip my cup into the river and carry away some water, is there a point at which the water becomes not-river? We might call that point birth but is it really?
Nice getting to know you. This is a public forum so that's kind of weird. (email: woodnstone64@yahoo.com)
I think you read my essay about the army but I have not yet written about the larger wound in my life, which involves a very negative divorce and not being able to see my two children for quite a few years. They are in my life now but I think I lost the chance to have the level of intimacy I would have liked.
Oh, and finally, I wanted to ask if you would like to read "Beech Tree Insight" on my blog. I think it's relevant.
I'm going to share the mindfulness part with my 9-year-old tomorrow. Your metaphors make sense, I like that they make sense. Thank you for writing them like this.
I actually hope your S reads this and finds it as sentimentally nourishing as I did. You gave me an impression of her as someone beautiful, and raw. Maybe she'll see that too.
Thank you so much, Lisha! I'm really glad you like both parts! And I appreciate your comment on my characterization of S. ("beautiful and raw." That's well put, and exactly what I was hoping for!) I was obviously worried about how that part came across!
This is a beautiful and vulnerable essay, Don. I don't feel as though you maligned anyone, but shared your experience, perspective and gained wisdom. Relationships are complicated. Life is confusing. The gift of wise view and the space to reflect is how we make sense of these challenges. Keep sharing. Your words and thoughts and experiences are meaningful.
This is a wonderful compliment, thank you so much, Troy.
Oh, Don! I loved reading this! I adored the part where you spoke directly to your emotions (anger and jealousy) just like how I imagine them sitting around the table and vowing for my attention. (Fear always speaks the loudest!) It's a vulnerable but real account of your personal experience and the lessons you learned and I really, really enjoyed it! Thanks for sending the the recommendation!
Wow, thank you so much, Grace. I'm so glad you liked it. Mostly I just wanted to relate with you on how hard it is to break up with someone when so much of the relationship is good. I didn't include that in the essay, but leaving really was hard. That was back in 2006 and I still remember it so well. I struggled with the break-up words, held them inside for a week to see if they would just go away. When they didn't, I knew that I had to go through with it.
Thanks again, Grace!
We can both relate to how hard it is to say words that we know will hurt someone, but when it hurts more not to say those words, you have to push through and do the hard thing.
Another wonderful read my friend. I feel that I can say my friend because although we have never met I believe that we would be. I do get such pleasure in reading your writings and am grateful for that.
That is so nice to hear, Lance, thank you. Thank you, my friend! 🙂
I agree with what Monica said here. It felt nice reading this perspective, and the mindfulness tips at the end…glad I came across this. 🙏
Thank you, Tara. So glad you found your way here. 🙂❤️
I really love and appreciate how you are sharing these ideas through your own experiences. Like the visitors who come calling. I imagine my self doubt as a seagull. I’m not sure why I exactly except that I live between two lakes so seagulls are flying overhead often. They squawk, they fly on. Self-doubt and seagulls are common but they pass. Thanks 🙏
That’s a creative way to look at it. Living on Cape Cod, I might just do the same! 🙂
Am enjoying your honest down to earth writing and wise words
Thank you so much, Margi! That's really nice to hear 🩷
I've always loved washing dishes, I love the warm water running across my hands and up my arms, the playfulness of the bubbles, the textures of plates and bowls and cups, the process of clearing the sink. I never understood why people hated it so much. Zooming out, it's clear that mostly the distaste is in the association. The *chore* of it. Another thing on the to-do list, another five minutes of frustration that something different isn't happening. How funny.
And what a great story, Don. I greatly enjoyed it. A perfectly clear example of the idea, "as within, so without." Having experienced similar anxieties in early relationships, I can affirm, it does become quite a mess of tension (not the fun kind) and resentment and, indeed, a self-fulfilling prophecy. Whew! Belief is a powerful thing. "Nobody sees me. Something must be wrong with me. I should hide." What an insidious spiral of shame, at once causing self-immolation and the destructive, projective force that is emotion unexpressed.
Thank you, Faye, for this insightful reply. Both "frustration that something different isn't happening," and "Nobody sees me. Something must be wrong with me. I should hide," are very wise observations. The second is also an impressive summing up of something I wrote and wrote about and still didn't quite see!
The one problem with using the dishes as a practice of staying in and enjoying the moment is that so many people have dishwashers! (though that can be a practice too. Anything can!)
Thank you equally for the insightful story! Ha, you’re right. Being here, loading the dishwasher. Arranging everything just so. That could certainly be a thing to practice
We need more stories like this one. Compassionate portraits of former relationships from the male point of view. We have so many such stories from the female POV, or misogynist accounts. This was so evocative and educational for me as to how a sweet, observant man (that's how you portrayed yourself 😉) relates to and sees a sensitive, complex woman as your ex girlfriend. Thank you!
Thank you, Monica. It’s very kind of you to take the time to comment and I really appreciate knowing that my essay took the right tone. 🥲
Well-shared, Don, in all its elements. I can see why this particular relationship came to mind in a piece about mindfulness, about finding a healthy relationship with our emotional landscape. I hope
I’ve spent my whole life with an unreliable emotional barometer - though of course that took me a painfully long time to understand. When I did eventually search out tools to practice in response, they happened to be very much like what you described here :) "Just being willing to sit with whatever is, sitting quietly and observing..." "...treat the contents of your mind in the same way: with care and attention."
These are lessons I wish all of us could learn as early as possible, and especially those of us chased around by strong and destructive emotions - so I'm very glad you chose to share in this very personal and practical way on this topic. (I was actually really excited to see one of your commenters below talk about sharing this with their 9yo, how wonderful!)
Thank you, Sydney. That's actually very helpful (for a side project let's just say). I do think I find your phrase the better one. Perhaps the DSM could use a little Sydney on their board! :-)
Time for my evening meditation. Talk later!
Thank you, Sydney. So nice to hear your response, and thank you for sharing your own feelings. In fact, I am curious about the phrase "unreliable emotional barometer." Is it yours or something used in the field of mental health? It's so affirming to have words or phrases that help name something that you or a loved one experience.
It does sound kind of medical doesn't it? It's my own phrase, so purely descriptive. I just personally think of my emotional response like a sensor that's meant to help me gauge my circumstances, but it's on the fritz. Sometimes it reads true - but other times it fails to alert to problems, and more often it wildly alarms at non-issues. 🤣
I do agree - I do a fair amount of casual reading on these topics as they come across my news feed, and I appreciate the continued advances in identifying, describing, and giving a working vocabulary to mental health topics. I think a current clinical term is "emotional dysregulation," which comes with an evaluative "Difficulties in Emotional Regulation Scale." It seems like it would have been super-useful to have these tools and conversation guides when I was younger!
It is your story to tell. You have no reason to feel guilty, especially since your intentions were good. (And you didn't use her name.)
Thanks for sharing!
Thank you, TJ! ❤️
Lovingly written and full of insight. A joy to read!
Thank you so much, Addie!
Great essay! I thought you showed deep respect and compassion for your ex. I look back at my youger, more insecure self and see some similarities. I love the way you write about welcoming in anger and anxiety.
Thank you! That was my hope; that anyone reading this who might relate with S. would not feel disparaged or criticized, but rather, seen and recognized. Recognized as a complex, nuanced, deeply feeling, evolving person with Value.
I'm enjoying reading about how you think, Don. Although I've known you for a long time, I don't feel as though I know you at all. We've never really shared anything about ourselves. Thank you for sharing yourself with all of us, it has much value.
Thank you so much, Mel, I really appreciate it. But now I feel terrible; i’m not sure who you are! I’m sorry, I feel bad about this! :-(
I didn't bother to put up a pic. Hard to tell who's who, then.
Mel of Melody and Diana. No worries.
Oh! Okay of course. I’ve never called you Mel. I’m so glad you’re here. I didn’t even realize you were reading my essays! That makes me happy
I'm enjoying them very much. It takes courage to put personal growth out in public space.
So wonderful, Don.
"What am I not doing that I should be doing?" Boy, do I know how that feels!
"but you’re only getting tea, not dinner" — This dialogue with your emotions is fascinating to me. I am curious on your thoughts regarding nondualism, in the sense of not separating the experiencer from the experience (far too challenging of a topic to give justice to in the comments section, I think), but maybe as I continue to receive the gift of your words, I'll have a clearer idea of your perspective. (And/or, I should probably read some Thich Nhat Hanh.)
The idea of trying to limit an emotion's stay in your mind ("not dinner") feels a bit counter to the idea of simply letting them be and observing them. The urge to be rid of painful emotions is so strong. Sometimes it almost feels like a trick when we try to say, "Oh, I am indifferent to your presence, oh anxiety, and will just notice you as you are" (with fingers crossed behind our backs).
I don't mean to spark a debate, nor do I have any right answers. But I love the way you make me think. Thank you!
I don't feel you are debating at all, and your question is absolutely valid, one I observe in myself often. (and it is a big question so my response likely won't address it completely)
First, I should have made clearer that "dinner" doesn't represent a period of time that I am allowing but rather the amount of energy one gives to, or the amount of giving over completely to, these negative emotions. I speak from experience when I say that by taking this attitude toward negative feelings (non-judgmental observing), I have found myself able to at the very least withhold from reacting, from believing what they are telling me about the conditions outside myself (whether that person I'm arguing with is right or wrong, whether I am a failure or untalented or whatever, weather my worries are justified, etc.) The more I practice, the more I am able to breath through emotions and actually feel better when I remember that they are not here to stay. (Sure they will probably return but we are talking about here and now. If I worry that I can't rid myself of them forever, then I am again projecting instead of paying attention to the moment)
Second: Sometimes, during an emotional storm, I will try reminding myself that feelings are impermanent, that they are just formations of the mind, BUT, I will also be aware that I am only repeating an intellectual idea to myself. That I don't "feel" better because of it. Emotions are powerful. But guess what? It doesn't matter because later on, the feeling has passed. And I remember that I did indeed know that that would be the case, even if it didn't help much in the moment. And I take note of this, and next time I remember how it was and I'm perhaps a little more calm knowing how the whole process is going to play out. It's all a slow process, and it starts with just being willing to take time to observe the self without the goal of changing it. That goal of changing is what causes tension and dissatisfaction.
When you talk about it feeling like a "trick" to claim indifference, note that you are still holding onto the goal to be rid of negative feelings. That desire will get you every time. We will never be rid of negative emotions because they are the other side of the emotion coin, happy on one side and sad on the other. Or whatever the two opposites are. Because we are human, we have emotions. Wisdom is in accepting that, not conquering it.
I better leave it at that for now, but thanks, Mike, for the engagement. And if this is not helpful, tell me. Writing fast is not my forte. We should get coffee, haha.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful response. I still find myself getting tied up in intellectual pretzels when I try to "solve" problems like this, and I think that's entirely the point. They can't be solved, certainly not by words and thoughts. But, words and thoughts can get our conscious minds to point the rest of our selves in the right direction. Namely, that it's about practice, about doing (or not doing), about being, and simply noticing.
No worries about the fast writing; I totally get it. And your reply was clear regardless!
If you don't mind my asking, at what age did you begin to engage actively with mindfulness, meditation, and such things? I'm in my late 30s now, and didn't really start learning and practicing until my mid 30s, just a few years ago. It's been a lovely journey so far, full of discovery yet still full of unknowns (it wouldn't be much fun otherwise!).
Very similar to what you describe, one of my most useful insights so far has been something along the lines of, "Wow, that's what you were so worried about? Now that the event has come and gone, it's clear the level of anxiety you felt beforehand was not worth it." (Dialogue with myself.) The more I can remember and re-remember this, the less of a chokehold anxiety and similar emotions have on me.
You said it, Mike, it's about practice, doing/not doing, being, noticing.
I'm actually glad you wrote (I will try to remember to answer all your questions. I did forget to answer a part of your last question, about duality and the experiencer vs the experience).
You see, lately it has really been coming into my awareness that a lot newcomers (and maybe old-comers) to mindfulness/meditation/buddhism struggle with concepts that either don't make sense to them, or that they are unable to experience or realize in actual practice. And I am trying to think of a way to respond to that struggle. The struggle is the issue, not the specific answers to the specific struggles.
Ajahn Sumedho says "Buddhist teaching is a non-doctrinal teaching in which you're encouraged to find things out for yourself." He's not just give the idea lip service. It's really what it's all about. And you reference that, Mike, when you talk about words pointing in the right direction. I think the problem is that even then, people think that these "things" that they are going to find out are actual things that you can come into possession of, like some secret knowledge or divine gift or revelation. Or it's like a maze, where you will only find the referenced treasure (which the wise teachers know about but are keeping from you so you'll find it on your own) if you go the right way, but only then.
That is still goal-oriented.
The path itself is the goal. The deep looking, the understanding of self and all its true motivations. These understandings not as a step to a higher realization, but the understandings themselves as wisdom. So we must really value self-reflection (which is human reflection) and not think of it as a means to an end.
You gotta really get what "non-doctrinal" means, I think. There is nothing to "believe," nothing to achieve, nothing to obtain, nothing to memorize and put into practice. It really is about learning to look at how things really are, in the here and now. And finding peace with that. All of the Dharma teachings exist for that one point.
Of course having help with methods of doing that is invaluable. For me it has been mostly through reading many books by people who have been practicing for years. But not by memorizing or copying or believing what they say. Rather they have helped me look at myself.
What is the main thing I see when I look at myself? That I need to be validated.
Why? Because it scares the shit out of me to be "nothing."
Now, that's what I see about myself, that I am afraid to be nothing, to be meaningless, so what do I do with that information? Well, what I've been doing all my life is running from it. Through books, movies, relationships, activities, through trying to become something significant, like an artist, craftsman, business owner, musician, author, through obtaining wealth, through some kind of success that will prove to me that I am something, not nothing.
Now it is time to turn that endless, fruitless pursuit on its head. And that is the big turning point. So what to do now? To go ahead and look at "nothing" square in the face. To see that it is absolute, pure nature. And what the heck is wrong with being nature?
Meditation is practicing facing that nothingness, that emptiness, what they call non-self, and coming to terms with it. Realizing that it is actually not a scary place at all.
I'll stop there for now.
Oh, I'm 59 and only started practicing very regularly four years ago but, like you, I'll bet, have been searching for meaning all my life. I first read the Tao Te Ching a long time ago. I first tried meditation at about your age, with stops and starts, and reading Alan Watts and Krishnamurti mostly, finding my way very slowly. Actual Buddhist reading came much later, along with my regular meditation practice. (Book that inspired my final dedicated path: The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching by Thich Nhat Hanh, picked up at a used bookshop in Kona, Hawaii).
I am on Cape Cod, by the way, so I don't know if we'll be meeting for coffee! :-)
This is great stuff, Don. I really appreciate you taking the time to write these detailed responses.
Yes, I have noticed that the human mind in general likes things to be black and white, concrete, made of objects with definite borders in space and time. Or even for abstract concepts, our tendency seems to be to assume they have some perfect correspondence with the real world. I see this incredibly strongly in my own children, even (or especially?) at age 1. At this point in my life, I believe that there are no true objects in this way. Language itself is a kind of general purpose poetry, wherein humans can communicate by making sounds/scribbles that remind other humans of experiences they've had, even though the words themselves have no meaning at all, and even if they did, there's nothing absolute for them to refer to. (See the "gavagai" problem.) As Watts put it (yes, as you would guess, I'm a fan), "Poets know that nothing can be described." A related idea also from Watts is that the only object is the entire universe, and the only event is the entire happening/becoming/lifespan of the universe. Forgive me; I tend to wax philosophical very quickly in any given conversation.
(Why the universe would result in beings with conscious experiences, who then go on to invent/evolve language, mathematics, and all these other ways of attempting to concretize an inherently ungraspable universe...I have no idea. But I am continually awestruck by this.)
All this to say...yes, we could write millions of words back and forth and I probably wouldn't be any closer to being at peace with whatever "I" am. (Oops, there's the goal-oriented language again.)
I'm itching to hear more about your own take on what it means to face the nothingness, the not-self. Your suggestion to meet in person makes sense, since at least there are more channels available for communication than mere typed words. And you are correct in its logistical difficulty, me being here on the west coast. Perhaps someday. (Stranger things have happened.)
I guess for me right now...I just try to find joy in the not-knowing, and all the "knowing" dancing around that ineffable, indescribable Truth. I think my recent fascination with poetry comes from this. I have always dearly loved language, and now that I see its own nothingness, I want to look that nothingness square in the eyes and see what kinds of feelings it can stir up in myself and others that, rather paradoxically, defy words.
I'm going to add The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching to my list. Thanks!!
So glad to have found you on here. Substack has a lot going for it, despite the various controversies. Time to sleep for now!
This is such a nice letter, Mike. I'm glad to have "met" you, too. And it's funny that you should write "we could write millions of words back and forth..." because after writing you last night I had the uncomfortable feeling that I had missed the mark or something. I went to my journal and wrote these simple words: "Better to listen and understand than to teach."
I am listening now, and I hear that you are already quite advanced at reflecting on the self, the world, evolution, and such. I like when you say "I just try to find joy in the not-knowing" because there certainly seems to be a limit on what we can know. But knowing is a job for the mind anyway, and I think we are much more than our minds. I won't go on and on about that except to share an analogy (maybe you could even call it a "koan.") that I just now thought of:
If I were to dip my cup into the river and carry away some water, is there a point at which the water becomes not-river? We might call that point birth but is it really?
Nice getting to know you. This is a public forum so that's kind of weird. (email: woodnstone64@yahoo.com)
I think you read my essay about the army but I have not yet written about the larger wound in my life, which involves a very negative divorce and not being able to see my two children for quite a few years. They are in my life now but I think I lost the chance to have the level of intimacy I would have liked.
Oh, and finally, I wanted to ask if you would like to read "Beech Tree Insight" on my blog. I think it's relevant.
Take care, Mike.
I'm going to share the mindfulness part with my 9-year-old tomorrow. Your metaphors make sense, I like that they make sense. Thank you for writing them like this.
I actually hope your S reads this and finds it as sentimentally nourishing as I did. You gave me an impression of her as someone beautiful, and raw. Maybe she'll see that too.
Thank you so much, Lisha! I'm really glad you like both parts! And I appreciate your comment on my characterization of S. ("beautiful and raw." That's well put, and exactly what I was hoping for!) I was obviously worried about how that part came across!
You did good, Don.
Love your essays!!
Thank you so much, Marion. :-)