A lot of the practice of inquiry is simply asking the question "What works?"
What works to lessen our suffering? To make our lives open and joyful rather than constricted and fearful?
Unfortunately, our instincts in this area are pretty bad. We tend to think about doing more or having more, rather than doing or having less, or simply being with whatever is happening at the moment.
But a question we can bring to our experience is simply to say "When I do more of this, am I happier?" And conversely "When I do less of this, am I happier?"
Often, we can answer instinctively. "Of course I am happier when I have a better-paying job." "Of course I am happier with that red convertible." "Of course I am happier when I am busier."
Is that really true? Is that true today, right now? Will that continue to be true?
Or is it possible that we might be happier with less, or with doing less? Is it possible that we can do more by doing less?
Just to open to that possibility of noticing our actual experience, rather than our thoughts about what we should be experiencing, is a precious gift. And to continue with that, just noticing when we notice (and noticing when we don't!), can be transformative.
Jeff
Monday, September 20, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Obstacles on the Path
I've been writing about paths to happiness, and yesterday I spent some time on the Path of Being.
The idea behind the Path of Being is that since it is based on something we already are, something that it is impossible not to do, that the chances are much higher that we can find happiness on this path than the others.
And yet, many people would still say that they are not happy. If we are always here, why do we not feel that way?
One of the paradoxes of being "here" is that we often are seemingly not. We are thinking about the future or the past. We are wanting things to be different. We are thinking about how we want some things and want to avoid others. We are constantly assessing how things are going--how we are doing against some list of ideals that we have decided will make us happy (see the earlier discussion about The Path of Having).
When we look closely, though, we can sometimes sense that the only obstacle to being happy is the thought that we are unhappy. And the question arises, then, how do we stop that thought?
The short answer is that we don't. But over time, as we become more familiar with our thoughts in contemplative practices such as just sitting, we can see through these thoughts. We can see that they are just thoughts. That our thoughts do not define us. That in a very important sense, we have thoughts, but we are not our thoughts.
Who are we without thoughts? What are we when we are not thinking? What is in that silence?
Peace. Peace that is available right now, but that can also be cultivated. And if happiness is the absence of need, even going beyond need, then happiness is in that peace, too.
Jeff
The idea behind the Path of Being is that since it is based on something we already are, something that it is impossible not to do, that the chances are much higher that we can find happiness on this path than the others.
And yet, many people would still say that they are not happy. If we are always here, why do we not feel that way?
One of the paradoxes of being "here" is that we often are seemingly not. We are thinking about the future or the past. We are wanting things to be different. We are thinking about how we want some things and want to avoid others. We are constantly assessing how things are going--how we are doing against some list of ideals that we have decided will make us happy (see the earlier discussion about The Path of Having).
When we look closely, though, we can sometimes sense that the only obstacle to being happy is the thought that we are unhappy. And the question arises, then, how do we stop that thought?
The short answer is that we don't. But over time, as we become more familiar with our thoughts in contemplative practices such as just sitting, we can see through these thoughts. We can see that they are just thoughts. That our thoughts do not define us. That in a very important sense, we have thoughts, but we are not our thoughts.
Who are we without thoughts? What are we when we are not thinking? What is in that silence?
Peace. Peace that is available right now, but that can also be cultivated. And if happiness is the absence of need, even going beyond need, then happiness is in that peace, too.
Jeff
Thursday, September 16, 2010
A Third Way
The last couple of days I have talked about happiness, and a couple of paths to getting there.
The first path I called the Path of Having, which is based on acquiring things and accomplishments and status. Happiness on this path can certainly be real (I am in no way saying that having things is bad), but it also seems temporary.
The second path I called the Path of Doing, which is about getting absorbed in what we do, and literally losing ourselves in it. It is based on the concept of flow. While also temporary, the satisfaction from the path of doing can seem deeper, and more rewarding.
As human beings, we quite naturally look to having things and doing things. Activities arise, sometimes with great focus and passion. There is nothing wrong with doing or having. But it can be disappointing to base our happiness on what we have or what we do, because each of these things is always changing,
If there is a way to be happy all of the time (or at least a lot more of the time), it seems like it would have to be based on something that does not change. Something that does not come and go. And that something is what a lot of the entries in this blog are pointing to--our very sense of being. Awareness itself. The witness. That which is looking through our eyes.
This awareness is beyond categorization--it is unrelated to our gender, our history, our age. It does not seem to care about our worries or problems. To cultivate this space, to be able to rest in it for even a few moments, is tremendously healing.
And as we increase our capacity to be here--to just be--we find that we can experience a deeper happiness that is not linked to any of our outer conditions. In that sense, we can be happy in the midst of confusion or pain or suffering. We can be happy at any time--even outside of a sense of time.
This is the Path of Being. And it is not a path at all. It is what we are right now, and it never stops.
Jeff
The first path I called the Path of Having, which is based on acquiring things and accomplishments and status. Happiness on this path can certainly be real (I am in no way saying that having things is bad), but it also seems temporary.
The second path I called the Path of Doing, which is about getting absorbed in what we do, and literally losing ourselves in it. It is based on the concept of flow. While also temporary, the satisfaction from the path of doing can seem deeper, and more rewarding.
As human beings, we quite naturally look to having things and doing things. Activities arise, sometimes with great focus and passion. There is nothing wrong with doing or having. But it can be disappointing to base our happiness on what we have or what we do, because each of these things is always changing,
If there is a way to be happy all of the time (or at least a lot more of the time), it seems like it would have to be based on something that does not change. Something that does not come and go. And that something is what a lot of the entries in this blog are pointing to--our very sense of being. Awareness itself. The witness. That which is looking through our eyes.
This awareness is beyond categorization--it is unrelated to our gender, our history, our age. It does not seem to care about our worries or problems. To cultivate this space, to be able to rest in it for even a few moments, is tremendously healing.
And as we increase our capacity to be here--to just be--we find that we can experience a deeper happiness that is not linked to any of our outer conditions. In that sense, we can be happy in the midst of confusion or pain or suffering. We can be happy at any time--even outside of a sense of time.
This is the Path of Being. And it is not a path at all. It is what we are right now, and it never stops.
Jeff
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The Path of Doing
Yesterday I talked about what I call the Path of Having. Many people assess their happiness based on what they have, whether that means material possessions or job title or education or skills or experiences.
There is nothing wrong with having things. For most people, though, the happiness that results is fleeting at best.
Today, I'll explore another way, and tomorrow, a third.
I've written about Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi of the University of Chicago before. He's written several books about what he calls flow, in which the sense of self is lost and we are completely engrossed in our work. It is here that we are most engaged in our lives and here where our creative energies are the strongest. An example of this might be the athlete who says, after the fact, that she was "in the zone," or that the game "played itself." This loss of the sense of self is the goal of many of the wisdom traditions as well. In fact, those who speak of enlightenment almost always use words like "the dropping of the self."
The second path, which I call "The Path of Doing," then, is not about doing a lot of different things, but about finding one or two things in which we consistently lose ourselves. The concept of flow gives us guidance on how to do that (and here are some other ideas in this guest post at Zen Habits). In essence, it's about finding something that challenges you but does not overwhelm you. This can be learning a new skill, or providing an additional challenge in a skill you have already mastered. The notion of focused practice is very strong here.
Unlike The Path of Having, which I wrote about yesterday, the satisfaction that comes from The Path of Doing is more than fleeting; in fact, it can be deeply satisfying. But it still requires conditions. It requires the right approach with the right activity. It requires a continual refining of the challenges that are presented. And it includes temptations--if some doing is good, how much is too much? How does the Path of Doing not turn into something darker, or even addictive? In that sense, the Path of Doing and the Path of Having are similar--the brief glimpses of peace we get can make us want more, and make us do more to get them.
It turns out there is still another way. We're already doing it. And I'll talk about it tomorrow.
Jeff
There is nothing wrong with having things. For most people, though, the happiness that results is fleeting at best.
Today, I'll explore another way, and tomorrow, a third.
I've written about Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi of the University of Chicago before. He's written several books about what he calls flow, in which the sense of self is lost and we are completely engrossed in our work. It is here that we are most engaged in our lives and here where our creative energies are the strongest. An example of this might be the athlete who says, after the fact, that she was "in the zone," or that the game "played itself." This loss of the sense of self is the goal of many of the wisdom traditions as well. In fact, those who speak of enlightenment almost always use words like "the dropping of the self."
The second path, which I call "The Path of Doing," then, is not about doing a lot of different things, but about finding one or two things in which we consistently lose ourselves. The concept of flow gives us guidance on how to do that (and here are some other ideas in this guest post at Zen Habits). In essence, it's about finding something that challenges you but does not overwhelm you. This can be learning a new skill, or providing an additional challenge in a skill you have already mastered. The notion of focused practice is very strong here.
Unlike The Path of Having, which I wrote about yesterday, the satisfaction that comes from The Path of Doing is more than fleeting; in fact, it can be deeply satisfying. But it still requires conditions. It requires the right approach with the right activity. It requires a continual refining of the challenges that are presented. And it includes temptations--if some doing is good, how much is too much? How does the Path of Doing not turn into something darker, or even addictive? In that sense, the Path of Doing and the Path of Having are similar--the brief glimpses of peace we get can make us want more, and make us do more to get them.
It turns out there is still another way. We're already doing it. And I'll talk about it tomorrow.
Jeff
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The List
We all have a list of the things that we think will make us happy.
If only we have the right job, right partner, right car, right children, right house, right neighborhood, right vacation, right friends, right education, right video game system, right brand of deodorant, right locally raised produce, right place of worship, right list of books to read, right movies and television shows to watch, right Internet provider, right computer, right cell phone, right clothes, right fragrance, right pen, right wristwatch, right running shoes, right luggage . . .
It is absurd on the face of it that we could have even a small fraction of these things.
And it also seems obvious that they bring at best fleeting happiness. So why do we spend so much of our time devoted to finding all these right things and experiences? Why are we stuck on the path of having?
I can think of two reasons, both arguably glitches in our human wiring.
First is that each of these "right things" do give us a fleeting sense of happiness. When we are happy, we look around and associate that happiness what what is nearby. And if that is new car smell, then the new car must have caused our happiness. This feeling of true happiness, or desirelessness, is rare, but if you remember BF Skinner, irregular rewards have the most powerful effect. So in a sense, we have been trained to look for happiness through our stuff, because we have gotten just enough rewards for the behavior to get us hooked. In that sense, it is an addiction, just like any other.
Second is that we are afraid to do otherwise. I have talked about the lizard brain a few times. Two of the ways that it is invoked most strongly are when we think we are going to lose something (called "loss aversion"), and when we think we might be violating social norms. Both are strongly present here. Acquisition of stuff is the norm in our cultures. Think of how many conversations we have that are about the latest thing that we bought or did or the vacation we are about to take.
There is nothing wrong with any of this. Except, perhaps, that we seem to think it will bring us happiness, when it is very clear that it doesn't.
Is there another way?
Jeff
If only we have the right job, right partner, right car, right children, right house, right neighborhood, right vacation, right friends, right education, right video game system, right brand of deodorant, right locally raised produce, right place of worship, right list of books to read, right movies and television shows to watch, right Internet provider, right computer, right cell phone, right clothes, right fragrance, right pen, right wristwatch, right running shoes, right luggage . . .
It is absurd on the face of it that we could have even a small fraction of these things.
And it also seems obvious that they bring at best fleeting happiness. So why do we spend so much of our time devoted to finding all these right things and experiences? Why are we stuck on the path of having?
I can think of two reasons, both arguably glitches in our human wiring.
First is that each of these "right things" do give us a fleeting sense of happiness. When we are happy, we look around and associate that happiness what what is nearby. And if that is new car smell, then the new car must have caused our happiness. This feeling of true happiness, or desirelessness, is rare, but if you remember BF Skinner, irregular rewards have the most powerful effect. So in a sense, we have been trained to look for happiness through our stuff, because we have gotten just enough rewards for the behavior to get us hooked. In that sense, it is an addiction, just like any other.
Second is that we are afraid to do otherwise. I have talked about the lizard brain a few times. Two of the ways that it is invoked most strongly are when we think we are going to lose something (called "loss aversion"), and when we think we might be violating social norms. Both are strongly present here. Acquisition of stuff is the norm in our cultures. Think of how many conversations we have that are about the latest thing that we bought or did or the vacation we are about to take.
There is nothing wrong with any of this. Except, perhaps, that we seem to think it will bring us happiness, when it is very clear that it doesn't.
Is there another way?
Jeff
Monday, September 13, 2010
No Demands
I've just come back from a weekend with Peter Fenner as part of his Radiant Mind program, where I help as a coach for some of the students.
Peter said many things during the course of the weekend that I think express the purpose of practice, of trying to find a better way to be in the world. This is the purpose of the Radiant Mind program--to find a way of being, ever present, that eases our suffering.
"What we are doing," Peter said, "is exploring a way of being in which we make no demands on ourselves."
That sounds easy. And wonderful.
And yet much of the time we don't do it.
Some might say that they don't create demands on themselves. That others do, and all they do is respond. But there are people whose demands I routinely ignore. We are the ones who validate others' demands, so at least in that sense, all demands are ones that we have placed on ourselves.
Some demands--the demands of a boss for example--feel quite persistent. And if we want to keep our job (an interesting inquiry in and of itself!) we generally must comply. But almost all demands can be delayed for a time, or met in one of several ways. Almost all demands offer some space around them.
The invitation is to explore that space, and to see what arises.
Jeff
Peter said many things during the course of the weekend that I think express the purpose of practice, of trying to find a better way to be in the world. This is the purpose of the Radiant Mind program--to find a way of being, ever present, that eases our suffering.
"What we are doing," Peter said, "is exploring a way of being in which we make no demands on ourselves."
That sounds easy. And wonderful.
And yet much of the time we don't do it.
Some might say that they don't create demands on themselves. That others do, and all they do is respond. But there are people whose demands I routinely ignore. We are the ones who validate others' demands, so at least in that sense, all demands are ones that we have placed on ourselves.
Some demands--the demands of a boss for example--feel quite persistent. And if we want to keep our job (an interesting inquiry in and of itself!) we generally must comply. But almost all demands can be delayed for a time, or met in one of several ways. Almost all demands offer some space around them.
The invitation is to explore that space, and to see what arises.
Jeff
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Different Tastes, Different Flavors
I have been reading a lot of Longchenpa lately. Longchenpa is a fourteenth century Tibetan teacher, and speaks very clearly to the nature of awareness. Just to read his words, even in translation, is to open myself to a space in which it is clear that nothing more is needed.
What Longchenpa says is not important. What any of these teachers says, even Jesus, is not important. I realize that is a radical statement, but what spiritual teachers are pointing to cannot be said in words. It is before and beyond words. "To say anything is to miss the mark," is a famous Zen saying.
This isn't about rules or precepts or commandments. It isn't about ethics or being nice. Those things can happen, but they are not the point. Instead it is about finding the teachers or teachings that are for you, wherever you happen to be right now. Some people like vanilla, some chocolate. It's all ice cream.
Find what resonates for you and do it. Not because it is on someone's reading list, or because a friend did it, or because it is something that you have been meaning to try, or because it feels spiritual, but because it is what you must do. You have a built in compass. Use it. The only way it points is home.
Tomorrow I am with my teacher, Peter Fenner, and will not be writing. Until Monday--
Jeff
What Longchenpa says is not important. What any of these teachers says, even Jesus, is not important. I realize that is a radical statement, but what spiritual teachers are pointing to cannot be said in words. It is before and beyond words. "To say anything is to miss the mark," is a famous Zen saying.
This isn't about rules or precepts or commandments. It isn't about ethics or being nice. Those things can happen, but they are not the point. Instead it is about finding the teachers or teachings that are for you, wherever you happen to be right now. Some people like vanilla, some chocolate. It's all ice cream.
Find what resonates for you and do it. Not because it is on someone's reading list, or because a friend did it, or because it is something that you have been meaning to try, or because it feels spiritual, but because it is what you must do. You have a built in compass. Use it. The only way it points is home.
Tomorrow I am with my teacher, Peter Fenner, and will not be writing. Until Monday--
Jeff
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