Day Three continued (Section 25)

Question: How do you differentiate anger right now in this moment and anger in the past?

Barbara: First, it doesn't really matter at the start. I just need to know that there is anger, or any heavy emotion. Just to know that is so hard for many people. We're so trained not to feel negative emotions, have been told it's wicked to feel them or are afraid of ourselves when we feel a strong emotion, that we'll hurt someone because of it. I have to allow myself to feel my feelings.

When the emotion is present and acknowledged, then I can begin to look into it more deeply. I can ask, is this out of proportion to the present situation? If all that has happened is that a usually highly responsible and prompt friend didn't show up for lunch and there is great pain and rage, feeling unworthy, feeling abandoned, clearly there is a lot of old mind as part of the reaction. But whatever its source, the pain and rage are there and to acknowledge them is essential. So different than past reactions of trying to control them and force them away.

I note the presence of the tension we call anger and simply note it, 'anger.' If it has a special quality, like tightness or burning, I might note that. I just sit there and be with it.

A teacher named Thich Nhat Hahn has a very beautiful practice that I like to suggest to people. 'Breathing in, I am aware of my anger. Breathing out, I smile to my anger.' You must really smile! This softening just makes a bit more space in which to be with pain.

So, as we allow ourselves to just stay there with the anger, instead of doing all the things that we habitually do to try to control it or feel safe with it, part of the opening process is just letting ourselves know how unsafe we feel. We can allow ourselves to know, 'feeling unsafe, feeling threatened.' We see how much we want to control pain or blame someone for it, to push it away. As we give ourselves that increasing space, we do start to understand what part of it is old and what part of it is now.

We're not minimizing the old. It can be very, very, very powerful. There's no judgment that says, 'This is old. Disregard it.' If it's old, it still can be very present. It's not like we have a time line that we say, 'Only this is now.' If you were taught as a child, 'No, you should not be angry,' so that there was a real shame about being angry, when anger arises that sense of shame is present now, even though the voice that said, 'Don't be angry' was back in childhood.

When I talk about distinguishing between old conditioning and what's present now, it relates more to what Aaron said yesterday about the life jacket. When we see that something is old and we don't need to respond that way anymore, but the response is just old habit, then there's a certain freedom. For example, we might be able to see that the adult who shamed you for being angry was really wrong and was speaking out of his or her own fear. You felt all that shame then, but you don't need to feel the shame anymore. The shame is what's old. The pain isn't old. The pain is right here, but the shame is just an old habit. So, I can see how much pain and shame I am feeling because anger has arisen and know, 'I don't need that shame anymore. I can really turn to that adult and say, 'No thank you. I don't need it anymore.'' Literally, bring the presence of the memory of that parent or teacher into your mind and say, 'I don't need your shame anymore. I don't accept that.' Then, we can come back to the feeling of anger, and then it's just anger. It's not weighted down by the old shame, but if the shame comes up again, then we're here with the shame.

Many years ago I was at a month long, silent retreat. People had been told to respect others who wished to avoid eye contact. I noticed that as I walked, to meals for example, and looked at others who looked away, a strong feeling of rejection and unworthiness arose in me. It was very painful. I wanted that look and smile so badly as proof that I was okay. Yet it was almost funny because I knew that there was no rejection. These were strangers. I look okay. I don't have bad breath. They were just doing their practice. But the pain of unworthiness was there. It had nothing to do with the reality of this moment; there was no rejection, no one who was unworthy. But there was real pain.

As I worked with it through the weeks, it became so clear that the whole idea of 'unworthy' was a myth that I had created as a child and for various reasons. I had felt lost, abandoned, and my anger was intense but I was told 'Don't be angry.' The one who had 'abandoned' me had done so because of illness. Even as a child I understood that it wasn't her fault. So I had turned that anger on myself. If the one who abandoned me wasn't bad, I was bad. I was unworthy of her love. I was unworthy! I'd understood this pain through therapy many decades earlier and stopped having to act out the unworthiness, but the 'fact' of it never left. It still was painful, through all those decades, even if I could explain it away.

Now I was face to face with the pain. For the first time, I allowed myself to know just how angry I had been, how vulnerable and afraid. And it finally became clear, not just in intellect but deep inside, that no one had ever been unworthy. It was a myth the child had thought she needed, a myth that offered some kind of support but for which she paid a terrible price.

Each time someone looked away, the pain arose. Each time, I began to remind myself, 'I'm not unworthy; I have never been unworthy. The child just needed that myth to deal with the intensity of her anger and desire to destroy the one who abandoned and those who said 'Don't be angry.'' I became able to look and acknowledge, 'All that's happening here is that someone is walking past with eyes averted and that situation triggers old pain.' Finally I really saw I had a choice, to continue to support the myth or to let it go. Like the life jacket metaphor, there was nothing left to support it. I just didn't need it any more.

Are there any more questions about the meditation practice?

Question: You say that when there is a need to change whatever is arising, that is ego?

Barbara: It's one of the voices of ego. It could be fear or control, which are all voices of ego.

Question: We think there is somebody who needs to change something?

Barbara: Yes, but it also allows me to connect with that fearless place in myself, that absolutely strong place in myself that knows there's nothing that needs to be fixed or changed, that is perfect. Then I can watch the arising of fear and the desire to change without needing to react to it, but if I do react to it, then I can observe with a kindness which embraces that very frightened part of me instead of criticizing it.

Instead of criticizing the frightened part of me, I recognize the ultimate self which is whole. It's unlimited. It's fearless. And I recognize the human who perceives itself as limited and who is not fearless. I can relate to both with balance.

We're going to sit. First I would like you to stretch in place. Stand up for a minute. Stretch in whatever way feels suitable, with mindful awareness of the intention and movement. If you need to use the bathroom or get something to drink, do so also with mindfulness.

If you're feeling very restless, a lot of agitation, so that you feel you just can't sit, get up and do walking meditation in the next room, up and down. If you feel settled, after ten or fifteen minutes, and want to come back and sit again, that's fine, or just keep walking. Sometimes, when there's a lot of agitation, the clearer focus of walking and the activity of walking as well, the movement, are helpful. If you're getting sleepy, simply stand in place. We're going to sit now for forty-five minutes.

(Meditation practice.)

May all beings be free of suffering. (Bell)
May all beings find the healing that they seek. (Bell)
May all beings find perfect peace. (Bell)

Take a moment to stretch, just here in place. I would like to hear from you what you were experiencing during the meditation, questions that may have arisen about the practice, and also how the practice was for you. What came up? How were you able to note it? What happened after you noted it?

Meditator: I felt a great resistance, even before I sat down, like I wanted to get out of here, and then I stayed with it, not fighting it, and began resolving it, not fighting with the mind, but a lot of thoughts arising.

Barbara: And were you able to simply note them as thoughts? What happened as you noted them as thoughts?

Meditator: I didn't have resistance. It was like riding the waves.

Barbara: Just waves rising and falling back into the sea?

Meditator: It helped me stay centered.

Barbara: So, there was a sense of resting in a deeper center that could watch the waves rise and fall without excessive fear. Okay, good. I want to add, as I say 'Good,' I'm always cautious, because somebody in the room who had thoughts arising and did grab hold of them will now say to themselves, 'She's a good meditator. I'm a bad meditator.'

We learn to work with it. There's a wonderful poster of a Hindu swami with a turban and a loin cloth. He's riding on a surf board. The caption underneath says, 'You can't stop the waves from coming, but you can learn to surf.'

If you find that a thought arises and it bowls you over, well, that's where you are. If it rises and falls, that's fine. That's where you are. If it hits you and knocks you off the surfboard and you get caught in its undertow, that's where you are. Just be there caught in the undertow. That's okay, too.

Meditator: I started okay, but very quickly thoughts started coming and I managed them the way you said. Then, I went back to my breathing and more thoughts came and more thoughts, so I feel I never went further. Thoughts kept coming, so I could not go very deep, but nevertheless I was conscious and afraid that it was going to be so long I was never going to finish. But then I felt that time had gone by very fast and I wasn't tired. So, I wonder if I ever went past the first two steps. I feel I never went further than just noticing the thoughts.

Barbara: But, this is already profound, just to be able to be present, note the thought, watch it dissolve, and come back to the breath. Then you have a very profound insight into the nature of mind and how it's always giving off thoughts. There is a name given to seeing this, because it's for many people the first deep insight of insight meditation. We call it 'seeing the waterfall,' the waterfall of mind where mind energy just flows over and over the edge. Thoughts keep coming up. This is just how mind works.

I'm sure many of you heard small noises. When you heard you didn't say to yourself, 'I shouldn't be hearing. Why doesn't hearing stop?' There was some external condition, the ears heard it and the consciousness 'hearing' resulted. In the same way, mind is a sense. Mind thinks. Ears give rise to hearing. Mind gives rise to thinking. When you hear footsteps cross the room or somebody cough, you just note it as 'hearing.' If there's a contraction around the hearing, wanting to get rid of it, not liking it, unpleasant, wanting to hold on, that contraction is not the hearing itself. It can be very pure, though, just hearing, pleasant, unpleasant, and then it's gone. There are no tensions around it. And then, very present with the breath, and then hearing again.

Thinking is no different. Thoughts arise. There doesn't have to be a contraction around it, and it sounds as if, for you there was not. Thoughts just arose, and went. They were noted skillfully. You came back to the breath. A new thought came up.

What happens is that as we note our thoughts skillfully in this way, they do slow down, not in one sitting, but with practice at staying with the thoughts.

Do you remember yesterday we did an exercise of inhaling, seeing the pause, exhaling? We start to attend more to the space between the thoughts, just like we can attend to the space between the breath. The space between the thoughts is a very powerful, quiet space. As we note the presence of that space between thoughts and rest there more fully, sometimes thoughts arise less frequently, sometimes they're just so little that you're not pulled away from the silence by them.

It's like in every rustle of your neighbors, first you note every movement. It becomes predominant, so you note it. After awhile those rustles may not become predominant. They just pass by, noted but not predominant at all. Thoughts also become smaller and quieter. So, it sounds like what you were doing was fine. Keep going. Other questions?