I've kept a meditation practice long enough to let go of schools and labels, whatever "long enough" means. It's hard to say what kind of meditation I do. It's mostly presence anchoring as I've come to talk about it. Why I do it, is a question I can't answer very well. I just do.
Recently, I've started trying to teach this to others as a tool for coming into a presence for the sake of more useful dialogue (unfolding around apparent crossroads). What's been most challenging is explaining something I don't really have language for.
This piece really points directly at that feeling. Thank you.
Watching the bodymind all that ever manifests is a sense of dissatisfaction, subtle but endless change, and a deep well of emptiness. There is a wow factor to it but it is empty of all drama.
I hear a lot of thoughts and ideas in what you say, not actual awake presence in THIS moment of aliveness, here and now. You've drawn a conclusion, for example: "all that ever manifests is...," and I'd suggest what follows is false, incomplete or at least very least highly questionable. Are you really ALWAYS feeling "a deep well of emptiness" or "a sense of dissatisfaction"? And can you see that those are all thought labels? However accurate they may seem, they are conceptual abstractions, descriptions. I'm pointing to the felt-sense of the immediacy of each moment. I'm pointing to going deeper than words such as "loneliness," "depression," "bliss," "anxiety," "anger," "fear," "joy," "dissatisfaction," "satisfaction," whatever the words may be. The words are helpful in many ways, especially in communicating, but I'm talking about the sensory-energetic reality that words or labels could never capture. And if endless change is really seen, how can we pin down what it is?
But yes, in pure nonconceptual experiencing, there is often a WOW factor, and it is empty of all drama. Yes!
I'm not in disagreement with what you have written, I wonder what your thoughts are though with regard to chronic/overwhelming pain. Many spiritual or mindfulness teachings do tend to focus on neutral or pleasant experiences, which can make them seem less applicable to intense physical pain or chronic illness.
In situations of extreme pain or illness, the body's survival mechanisms kick in, making it incredibly difficult to maintain a state of open, non-reactive awareness. The mind naturally seeks escape or relief, which can lead to racing thoughts and anxiety.
I feel that presence should be applicable in situations which are painful and long lasting, but I wonder if what's is spoken to people in these situations would be any different than the above?
I've been experiencing pretty serious back pain for the last month from a new fracture along with arthritis and spinal deterioration. And my last book, the one I quoted from in this post, talks in part about my journey through painful radiation and chemotherapy for a stage 3 cancer about 7 years ago. So I've had some experience with pain myself (and am having it at this very moment). But I've been lucky. I've had friends dealing with much worse, including my friend-teacher Toni Packer, whose last decade of life was spent with increasingly severe chronic pain and disability, and for the last several years, she was bedridden. Another friend who has dealt with severe chronic pain and illness is Robert Saltzman, whose books and Substack I recommend. And there are many others in my life, as well as people I've met with, who live with chronic pain and/or illness.
Years ago, in a Zen sesshin, sitting for hours on end in horrible pain, I discovered that if I was resisting the pain, focusing on thoughts about "This is unbearable...I can't stand this...What if it gets worse?...When will the bell ring?" etc, the pain got worse and seemed unbearable and overwhelming. But when I could stop resisting and open completely to the bare physical sensations themselves, going deeply into them with curiosity and interest, suddenly everything changed--the pain was no longer solid. It was vibrating, coming and going. It was even interesting! And it was totally bearable.
When I had cancer, sometimes I'd simply be with it in this way. Sometimes I wasn't able to do that or it didn't seem to happen. Sometimes I'd watch movies to distract myself--and it was fascinating how once the attention got absorbed in the movie, I'd completely forget about the pain! And sometimes, I had moments of feeling just plain miserable and resisting it all. But I didn't take those moments personally as indications of being a spiritual failure. I saw them as just passing experiences, and eventually they passed. And, I got through it.
Presence, in every sense I've used it in this article, can be there in the midst of pain and illness. It's ALWAYS there in the sense that EVERYTHING is it, and that awareness is ever-present. But it can also be there in the sense of "being here now." With severe chronic pain or illness, it's unlikely it will be there in that way 24/7. Maybe for some rare beings that's possible, but it's not been my experience. When I have a high fever, body aches and a severe headache, I feel miserable, and I often resist. It happens. But I don't expect otherwise.
Of course, it's natural to seek relief, and I'm all for pain meds and palliative care. And it's easy to fall into resistance and the kind of thinking that makes it worse. But when that happens, when the mind starts racing with anxious thoughts that make it worse, maybe that can be seen, and in the seeing, begin to lose its grip. And maybe even when those thoughts don't disappear, maybe they can be accepted as simply another shape that presence is taking: so-called "anxious thoughts." Simply allowing everything to be as it is, including our reactions.
Pain seems to be part of life, and more so as we age. I live in a retirement community where I witness the myriad things that can happen: broken bones, strokes, cancers, dementia, and ever-increasing levels of pain and limitation. As they say, "Old age is not for sissies." The evidence is all around me.
We do what we can. For more, you might check out the work of Jon Kabat-Zinn, who has used mindfulness meditation over many years to work with chronic pain (he's on my website recommended reading list). And there are a number of Buddhist teachers who live with chronic pain and have written books about it. I can't bring up any names, but you could google around and probably find them, or contact someplace like the San Francisco Zen Center or Spirit Rock or IMS for information and suggestions.
My tinnitus is bad today. Not exactly like pain, but not pleasant. [i did see an article in the last "Exit International" newsletter about euthanasia for Tinnitus - I thought it was "overkill" but I don't think that is the right word to use in that community. (-:)] As usual, I digress...the more I struggle with tinnitus the more bothersome it is. Often I don't notice it. As you note, when one is fully absorbed in something it more or less disappears. Tinnitus is my teacher - might as well be (-:). Love your writing. Thank you. Love, Tom
Someone sent me a private email asking: "How do you know what I think it is?!"
I replied: Of course, I have no idea what you think. But that wasn’t the point. That line was a bit tongue-in-cheek. I used to have a T-shirt that said “Meditation is not what you think.” It’s a kind of a double entendre, in which the phrase flips or open up in the mind. Zen teacher Steve Hagen wrote a wonderful book called *Buddhism Is Not What You Think.* Of course, you and I can think about these things, often with great clarity, but what ANYTHING is, is NEVER what we think it is! And this Substack in particular is all about revealing that. And really, it’s not what I think it is either!
I heard is said somewhere(I can never remember any of my references... so maybe it was one of your posts?)... that thinking is our last, and most basic, addiction. A quiet mind is a sober mind. :)
Many have noted that thinking is one of our most pervasive, tenacious and destructive addictions. Of course, that isn't talking about functional or creative thinking, which has gotten us to the top of the food chain (and to the edge of self-destruction as well). And the mind doesn't need to always be quiet, in fact, that's next to impossible. Thoughts continue to bubble up. The confusion and suffering comes from the obsessive, me-centered thoughts, and from believing what they tell us, getting hypnotized by the storylines, and being lost in mental movies and the ensuing emotional turmoil.
Your writing beautifully conveys this ever present all encapsulating moment of Now. I appreciate your words as well as the words of others you share. Thank you 💗.
Wonderful post Joan. It comes very close to being a totally accurate description of THAT which is indescribable. I once read or heard someone say the center of the universe is everywhere. I immediately thought that’s why I feel I’m the center of the universe lol. Being 75 I’m familiar with the bodily troubles that come with age. I could be wrong about this but I think it was Betty Davis who said “old age isn’t for sissies”. She was right! Much love to all.
Thank you so much for your care and time in sharing your experience through writing for all of us. What you are describing and pointing to certainly resonates with my own understanding. There is just one point that came to mind as I read your article, and that is simply a question of words not meaning. You speak of the 'Here - Now' but the paradox and irony about that phrase is that it literally refers to time and place, the very mental frameworks we aim to be free of. On that basis alone i would argue it is not the best phrase to use if we wish to convey the transcendental quality of the state you are pointing to. This is one reason that in the Dzogchen teachings of Tibetan Buddhism the emphasis is not on the moment, or the now, but rather on the experience of boundless space. Maybe that is a better word to use?
I tried to distinguish between the eternal, ever-present, timeless NOW (in which all of time and space happens) and the so-called fleeting and impermanent "present moment," which is not even really findable. I also tried to point out that all these words get used differently by different speakers, writers and traditions. I sometimes call the eternal Now "this one bottomless moment," a phrase which I picked up from Toni Packer, as mentioned in the article.
"Boundless space" is a beautiful term, and I often use words like that as well, but of course "boundless space" contains the notion of location, albeit a very big and infinite location. NO words are ever totally right. They are ALL maps of an inconceivable presence that can never be nailed down. ANY words we use will have advantages and disadvantages, like everything else in life. ALL of them can be misunderstood by some and will be helpful to others. That's why I described this Substack and all my books as "a fool's errand" -- a hopeless task. And yet, as one Zen teacher put it, "We have to say something."
Thank you for everything you share with us. ❤️🙏 also I think we may be cosmic twins. I am having back pain for the last few weeks like crazy and I had chemo…which ended in 2017.
Re: pain, there was a process in the old est training during which the group was asked if anyone had a headache. The trainer worked with the individual asking them to describe the sensations accurately and minutely. How big is it, what shape is it, what colour, how much water could it hold, etc. The headache disappeared.
Yes, what you describe in the EST training is what I discovered in that painful Zen sitting. When we give complete (nondual) attention to the actual sensations of pain, without wanting to get rid of it, but simply exploring the sensations with open curiosity, we find that the pain is not solid. It comes and goes. It changes shape. It disappears completely. It returns. It gets bigger and smaller. It moves and dances. We're no longer separate from the pain, feeling like we're being attacked by it and trying desperately to escape. Instead, there's no separation between "me" and "pain." The labels and stories are gone. There's just sensation. It's nondual. And it's nothing solid. And it's quite bearable. It's an amazing discovery.
Fantastic post, Joan. Thanks!
Ah! Wonderful.
The freedom to be just as I am.
The acceptance of what is.
Thank you!
I'm forever grateful that you do write Joan.
Long may it continue
There is a language that doesn't use words or learned descriptions that your writing points to.
And when this lands and connects the feeling is all one needs to understand.
Gently with gratitude 🙏
Please begrudge me a little metaphor.
I've kept a meditation practice long enough to let go of schools and labels, whatever "long enough" means. It's hard to say what kind of meditation I do. It's mostly presence anchoring as I've come to talk about it. Why I do it, is a question I can't answer very well. I just do.
Recently, I've started trying to teach this to others as a tool for coming into a presence for the sake of more useful dialogue (unfolding around apparent crossroads). What's been most challenging is explaining something I don't really have language for.
This piece really points directly at that feeling. Thank you.
Thank you very much for this.
Watching the bodymind all that ever manifests is a sense of dissatisfaction, subtle but endless change, and a deep well of emptiness. There is a wow factor to it but it is empty of all drama.
I hear a lot of thoughts and ideas in what you say, not actual awake presence in THIS moment of aliveness, here and now. You've drawn a conclusion, for example: "all that ever manifests is...," and I'd suggest what follows is false, incomplete or at least very least highly questionable. Are you really ALWAYS feeling "a deep well of emptiness" or "a sense of dissatisfaction"? And can you see that those are all thought labels? However accurate they may seem, they are conceptual abstractions, descriptions. I'm pointing to the felt-sense of the immediacy of each moment. I'm pointing to going deeper than words such as "loneliness," "depression," "bliss," "anxiety," "anger," "fear," "joy," "dissatisfaction," "satisfaction," whatever the words may be. The words are helpful in many ways, especially in communicating, but I'm talking about the sensory-energetic reality that words or labels could never capture. And if endless change is really seen, how can we pin down what it is?
But yes, in pure nonconceptual experiencing, there is often a WOW factor, and it is empty of all drama. Yes!
Thank you for your gifts
I'm not in disagreement with what you have written, I wonder what your thoughts are though with regard to chronic/overwhelming pain. Many spiritual or mindfulness teachings do tend to focus on neutral or pleasant experiences, which can make them seem less applicable to intense physical pain or chronic illness.
In situations of extreme pain or illness, the body's survival mechanisms kick in, making it incredibly difficult to maintain a state of open, non-reactive awareness. The mind naturally seeks escape or relief, which can lead to racing thoughts and anxiety.
I feel that presence should be applicable in situations which are painful and long lasting, but I wonder if what's is spoken to people in these situations would be any different than the above?
I've been experiencing pretty serious back pain for the last month from a new fracture along with arthritis and spinal deterioration. And my last book, the one I quoted from in this post, talks in part about my journey through painful radiation and chemotherapy for a stage 3 cancer about 7 years ago. So I've had some experience with pain myself (and am having it at this very moment). But I've been lucky. I've had friends dealing with much worse, including my friend-teacher Toni Packer, whose last decade of life was spent with increasingly severe chronic pain and disability, and for the last several years, she was bedridden. Another friend who has dealt with severe chronic pain and illness is Robert Saltzman, whose books and Substack I recommend. And there are many others in my life, as well as people I've met with, who live with chronic pain and/or illness.
Years ago, in a Zen sesshin, sitting for hours on end in horrible pain, I discovered that if I was resisting the pain, focusing on thoughts about "This is unbearable...I can't stand this...What if it gets worse?...When will the bell ring?" etc, the pain got worse and seemed unbearable and overwhelming. But when I could stop resisting and open completely to the bare physical sensations themselves, going deeply into them with curiosity and interest, suddenly everything changed--the pain was no longer solid. It was vibrating, coming and going. It was even interesting! And it was totally bearable.
When I had cancer, sometimes I'd simply be with it in this way. Sometimes I wasn't able to do that or it didn't seem to happen. Sometimes I'd watch movies to distract myself--and it was fascinating how once the attention got absorbed in the movie, I'd completely forget about the pain! And sometimes, I had moments of feeling just plain miserable and resisting it all. But I didn't take those moments personally as indications of being a spiritual failure. I saw them as just passing experiences, and eventually they passed. And, I got through it.
Presence, in every sense I've used it in this article, can be there in the midst of pain and illness. It's ALWAYS there in the sense that EVERYTHING is it, and that awareness is ever-present. But it can also be there in the sense of "being here now." With severe chronic pain or illness, it's unlikely it will be there in that way 24/7. Maybe for some rare beings that's possible, but it's not been my experience. When I have a high fever, body aches and a severe headache, I feel miserable, and I often resist. It happens. But I don't expect otherwise.
Of course, it's natural to seek relief, and I'm all for pain meds and palliative care. And it's easy to fall into resistance and the kind of thinking that makes it worse. But when that happens, when the mind starts racing with anxious thoughts that make it worse, maybe that can be seen, and in the seeing, begin to lose its grip. And maybe even when those thoughts don't disappear, maybe they can be accepted as simply another shape that presence is taking: so-called "anxious thoughts." Simply allowing everything to be as it is, including our reactions.
Pain seems to be part of life, and more so as we age. I live in a retirement community where I witness the myriad things that can happen: broken bones, strokes, cancers, dementia, and ever-increasing levels of pain and limitation. As they say, "Old age is not for sissies." The evidence is all around me.
We do what we can. For more, you might check out the work of Jon Kabat-Zinn, who has used mindfulness meditation over many years to work with chronic pain (he's on my website recommended reading list). And there are a number of Buddhist teachers who live with chronic pain and have written books about it. I can't bring up any names, but you could google around and probably find them, or contact someplace like the San Francisco Zen Center or Spirit Rock or IMS for information and suggestions.
I hope this helps. Wishing you all the best....
My tinnitus is bad today. Not exactly like pain, but not pleasant. [i did see an article in the last "Exit International" newsletter about euthanasia for Tinnitus - I thought it was "overkill" but I don't think that is the right word to use in that community. (-:)] As usual, I digress...the more I struggle with tinnitus the more bothersome it is. Often I don't notice it. As you note, when one is fully absorbed in something it more or less disappears. Tinnitus is my teacher - might as well be (-:). Love your writing. Thank you. Love, Tom
Sorry I missed your considerate reply at the time, thanks for your thoughts!
Someone sent me a private email asking: "How do you know what I think it is?!"
I replied: Of course, I have no idea what you think. But that wasn’t the point. That line was a bit tongue-in-cheek. I used to have a T-shirt that said “Meditation is not what you think.” It’s a kind of a double entendre, in which the phrase flips or open up in the mind. Zen teacher Steve Hagen wrote a wonderful book called *Buddhism Is Not What You Think.* Of course, you and I can think about these things, often with great clarity, but what ANYTHING is, is NEVER what we think it is! And this Substack in particular is all about revealing that. And really, it’s not what I think it is either!
When I read the title (a riddle), and then the subtitle (a punchline), I laughed out loud. Fun way to start a very helpful article, Joan. Thanks
Lovely
I heard is said somewhere(I can never remember any of my references... so maybe it was one of your posts?)... that thinking is our last, and most basic, addiction. A quiet mind is a sober mind. :)
Many have noted that thinking is one of our most pervasive, tenacious and destructive addictions. Of course, that isn't talking about functional or creative thinking, which has gotten us to the top of the food chain (and to the edge of self-destruction as well). And the mind doesn't need to always be quiet, in fact, that's next to impossible. Thoughts continue to bubble up. The confusion and suffering comes from the obsessive, me-centered thoughts, and from believing what they tell us, getting hypnotized by the storylines, and being lost in mental movies and the ensuing emotional turmoil.
Your writing beautifully conveys this ever present all encapsulating moment of Now. I appreciate your words as well as the words of others you share. Thank you 💗.
Wonderful post Joan. It comes very close to being a totally accurate description of THAT which is indescribable. I once read or heard someone say the center of the universe is everywhere. I immediately thought that’s why I feel I’m the center of the universe lol. Being 75 I’m familiar with the bodily troubles that come with age. I could be wrong about this but I think it was Betty Davis who said “old age isn’t for sissies”. She was right! Much love to all.
It has been attributed to both Mark Twain and Bette Davis. But whoever said it, it's definitely true! ❤️🙏
Mark Twain is another one of my favorites so’s Bette but for different reasons ❤️
Thank you so much for your care and time in sharing your experience through writing for all of us. What you are describing and pointing to certainly resonates with my own understanding. There is just one point that came to mind as I read your article, and that is simply a question of words not meaning. You speak of the 'Here - Now' but the paradox and irony about that phrase is that it literally refers to time and place, the very mental frameworks we aim to be free of. On that basis alone i would argue it is not the best phrase to use if we wish to convey the transcendental quality of the state you are pointing to. This is one reason that in the Dzogchen teachings of Tibetan Buddhism the emphasis is not on the moment, or the now, but rather on the experience of boundless space. Maybe that is a better word to use?
I tried to distinguish between the eternal, ever-present, timeless NOW (in which all of time and space happens) and the so-called fleeting and impermanent "present moment," which is not even really findable. I also tried to point out that all these words get used differently by different speakers, writers and traditions. I sometimes call the eternal Now "this one bottomless moment," a phrase which I picked up from Toni Packer, as mentioned in the article.
"Boundless space" is a beautiful term, and I often use words like that as well, but of course "boundless space" contains the notion of location, albeit a very big and infinite location. NO words are ever totally right. They are ALL maps of an inconceivable presence that can never be nailed down. ANY words we use will have advantages and disadvantages, like everything else in life. ALL of them can be misunderstood by some and will be helpful to others. That's why I described this Substack and all my books as "a fool's errand" -- a hopeless task. And yet, as one Zen teacher put it, "We have to say something."
Thank you for everything you share with us. ❤️🙏 also I think we may be cosmic twins. I am having back pain for the last few weeks like crazy and I had chemo…which ended in 2017.
Re: pain, there was a process in the old est training during which the group was asked if anyone had a headache. The trainer worked with the individual asking them to describe the sensations accurately and minutely. How big is it, what shape is it, what colour, how much water could it hold, etc. The headache disappeared.
Yes, what you describe in the EST training is what I discovered in that painful Zen sitting. When we give complete (nondual) attention to the actual sensations of pain, without wanting to get rid of it, but simply exploring the sensations with open curiosity, we find that the pain is not solid. It comes and goes. It changes shape. It disappears completely. It returns. It gets bigger and smaller. It moves and dances. We're no longer separate from the pain, feeling like we're being attacked by it and trying desperately to escape. Instead, there's no separation between "me" and "pain." The labels and stories are gone. There's just sensation. It's nondual. And it's nothing solid. And it's quite bearable. It's an amazing discovery.