My teacher, Peter Fenner, teaches from a nondual perspective. What does that mean exactly? There are nondual terms that pop up in this blog from time to time, and it might be helpful to examine them.
The world we live in is one of conditions and opposites, or duality. Up and down, left and right, good and evil. There are things that we want from life, and we are frustrated when we don't get them.
These are things that we are aware of. But there is also that which is aware, which has no characterstics whatsoever. "That" is called many things in many traditions. Peter calls it unconditioned awareness, but it is also called source consciousness, Buddha mind, and original mind, among other things. When people talk in wisdom traditions of enlightenment, they are talking about residing in this non-place without interruption.
When we are resting in unconditioned awareness, our interpretations of the world lessen or drop away. The thought "I want this" has no power, because we see "I," "want," and "this" as nothing more than concepts or constructions. They are not life itself, which is beyond words. Life itself is just happening, regardles of our commentary and preferences. From the perspective of unconditioned awareness, life is one indivisible whole, ever emerging, ever changing, and always right now.
When we cultivate unconditioned awareness, our suffering lessens. Why? Because there are no wants and needs to be frustrated. There is no gap between how life is and how we would like it to be.
Nondual thought can sound complicated because it is so different than the way we usually think about things. We don't tend to notice that whatever it is that is looking through our eyes is without definition. We don't tend to notice that our minds are making up stories every moment of every day so that we can make sense of the world. So that we can find meaning. This seems to be an essential part of our human experience.
Nondual teachings do not say that we should stop making up stories, or that we should stop or start doing anything. The nondual accepts everything, including our thoughts and stories.
If there is a start, it is to notice what is noticing. And to accept wherever we are.
If there is a practice, it is to keep doing that. No need for effort or frustration or judgment.
Jeff
Monday, March 22, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
The All Day Meeting
When we are mindful, we are focused on being present to what is happening in any given moment.
That’s a nice thought—to be able to say that I am right here. That I am tuned into what is happening, rather than my own interior dialogue.
Sometimes, though, I’m in a conference room all day, listening to presentations. And sometimes, I don’t want to be in that room. My mind wanders. I daydream. I plan vacations or write blog entries in my head.
One of the things that I like about nondual work is that it is remarkably forgiving of these transgressions.
We can be tempted to say “I should be more present. If I can’t focus on this moment, I am doing something wrong. I am not as far down the path as I should be. I should be better at this.”
But in nondual space, we accept exactly what is happening. And if “mind wandering” is our practice for the moment, so be it.
Simply put, we can’t be doing anything other that what we are doing. To think that we should be doing something different (or even that we could be doing something different) only increases our suffering.
If your mind is wandering, that’s OK. If you are frustrated, that’s OK. If you are tired, that’s OK. It’s just what’s happening.
Jeff
That’s a nice thought—to be able to say that I am right here. That I am tuned into what is happening, rather than my own interior dialogue.
Sometimes, though, I’m in a conference room all day, listening to presentations. And sometimes, I don’t want to be in that room. My mind wanders. I daydream. I plan vacations or write blog entries in my head.
One of the things that I like about nondual work is that it is remarkably forgiving of these transgressions.
We can be tempted to say “I should be more present. If I can’t focus on this moment, I am doing something wrong. I am not as far down the path as I should be. I should be better at this.”
But in nondual space, we accept exactly what is happening. And if “mind wandering” is our practice for the moment, so be it.
Simply put, we can’t be doing anything other that what we are doing. To think that we should be doing something different (or even that we could be doing something different) only increases our suffering.
If your mind is wandering, that’s OK. If you are frustrated, that’s OK. If you are tired, that’s OK. It’s just what’s happening.
Jeff
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Jim Collins and $100 Millon
Great post on The Art of Nonconformity about Jim Collins and the work that he did on Good to Great, which has becomes somewhat of a Bible in the corporate world.
How much would someone have to pay you to stop what you are doing? Interesting way of assessing how much you love it. This isn't about the actual market value of what you are doing. It is about your value. If it is low, should you be doing something else?
Or, in the words of one of the commenters, “What can I create that I wouldn’t accept 100 million dollars to walk away from?”
Jeff
How much would someone have to pay you to stop what you are doing? Interesting way of assessing how much you love it. This isn't about the actual market value of what you are doing. It is about your value. If it is low, should you be doing something else?
Or, in the words of one of the commenters, “What can I create that I wouldn’t accept 100 million dollars to walk away from?”
Jeff
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Awareness Is Right Here
There are times when I have a profound and yet utterly ordinary experience of unconditioned awareness. In these moments, there is nothing that needs to be done. To suggest that there is something wrong, or even that there is something right, makes no sense. It is a bit disconcerting, because I can’t find anything in these moments, including a "me." On the other hand, it includes everything, without exceptions, so it is perfectly simple.
The only words that I can come up with are just this. Just right now. Right here. Nothing needing to be done. Nothing needing to change. Is there anything missing in this moment? Could there ever be?
All that is happening is this. We look for something else, for a dramatic end to our years of searching and it turns out it is right here all along. Where else could it be?
I don’t tend to ask people if they have had this experience or thoughts like this. It can be dangerous because it can lead our ever-constructing minds to build a goal and a path and then focus on this as some kind of future event. The big payoff for the years of effort. They are convinced that this is NOT it, that it must be different than this (and somehow better).
But most people have had the kind of moment of utter simplicity that I am talking about. It can happen looking at a sunset, or in a meeting, or after a run, or waiting in line at the airport. I had it happen to me when I was being downsized a few years ago. It doesn’t seem to matter. And we tend to notice it only when “it” is no longer happening.
Notice these moments. We all have them, but we often miss them. Instead, cultivate them. This is the beginning of the spiritual path. It is also the end.
Jeff
The only words that I can come up with are just this. Just right now. Right here. Nothing needing to be done. Nothing needing to change. Is there anything missing in this moment? Could there ever be?
All that is happening is this. We look for something else, for a dramatic end to our years of searching and it turns out it is right here all along. Where else could it be?
I don’t tend to ask people if they have had this experience or thoughts like this. It can be dangerous because it can lead our ever-constructing minds to build a goal and a path and then focus on this as some kind of future event. The big payoff for the years of effort. They are convinced that this is NOT it, that it must be different than this (and somehow better).
But most people have had the kind of moment of utter simplicity that I am talking about. It can happen looking at a sunset, or in a meeting, or after a run, or waiting in line at the airport. I had it happen to me when I was being downsized a few years ago. It doesn’t seem to matter. And we tend to notice it only when “it” is no longer happening.
Notice these moments. We all have them, but we often miss them. Instead, cultivate them. This is the beginning of the spiritual path. It is also the end.
Jeff
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
The Jerk
I've been lucky--I have not had to work with many jerks during my career. But sometimes, people ask me what to do when you come across one.
I'm honestly not sure. One observation is that most of us are nice people and want to help, and the jerk seems to use this to his advantage. In this way, the jerk gets us to own things that are really his.
Our first response if often to defend, but that gives the power to the jerk. This is how the jerk wins--through surprise and intimidation. But instead of defending, or asking "how can I make your problem (and by extension, my discomfort) go away," it can be helpful just to observe what is happening.
"You seem to be upset."
"I can feel you are frustrated."
In this way, we can acknowledge the emotional content and begin to diffuse it. The conversation gets less heated, and generally more productive. And it becomes clear that the emotional state is that of the jerk, not you.
As I said, I've been fortunate not to have had many of these conversations at work. But I would love to hear others' thoughts on this. Because despite my good fortune, I think it's a topic that is one that arises quite a bit.
Thanks for your thoughts--
Jeff
I'm honestly not sure. One observation is that most of us are nice people and want to help, and the jerk seems to use this to his advantage. In this way, the jerk gets us to own things that are really his.
Our first response if often to defend, but that gives the power to the jerk. This is how the jerk wins--through surprise and intimidation. But instead of defending, or asking "how can I make your problem (and by extension, my discomfort) go away," it can be helpful just to observe what is happening.
"You seem to be upset."
"I can feel you are frustrated."
In this way, we can acknowledge the emotional content and begin to diffuse it. The conversation gets less heated, and generally more productive. And it becomes clear that the emotional state is that of the jerk, not you.
As I said, I've been fortunate not to have had many of these conversations at work. But I would love to hear others' thoughts on this. Because despite my good fortune, I think it's a topic that is one that arises quite a bit.
Thanks for your thoughts--
Jeff
Monday, March 15, 2010
Rest in the Midst of Activity
When we think of resting, we typically think of sleeping, or maybe spacing out watching television.
But we can rest while we are active, too.
Much of what we perceive as effort is simply resistance. What do I mean by this? Often, when we are trying to do one thing, we are doing it because we don't want something else to happen. When we are playing a game, we want to win, but we also want not to lose. When we are investing, we want to make money, but we also want not to lose money. When we are giving a speech, we want not to mess up or embarrass ourselves. And so forth.
In any effort, there is both creative energy and fear. Too often, what really motivates us is the fear. This is why procrastination can appear to be a successful strategy. We wait till the fear kicks in and ride that energy until we get our speech/project/presentation done. Even though fear will do the work, it tends to do the bare minimum. Fear doesn't take many chances. Fear goes pretty much by the book.
When I talk to people about how contemplative practice lessens fear, a lot mention how they are afraid (!) that without fear they would have no motivation. The procrastination strategy would no longer work--they are sure they would become apathetic lumps eating junk food and surfing the Web all day.
In my experience, this is not what happens. Instead, as we become more comfortable with our own fears, our fear of being judged, of taking a risk, of saying what we really feel, gets much less. When there is less of a fear of failure, it is a lot easier to get started. Productivity and motivation actually increase rather than decrease. There is activity in an open space of creativity rather than in a closed space of fear. And that activity, paradoxically, is energizing, as much or more than rest. You become the state of flow, the activity itself.
This is a gradual journey, but over time, there can be significant changes. A first step is to notice when you feel fear. Just be with that fear. Step right into it. As you become more familiar with the sensations, their grip will lessen. Fear will not be as scary as you thought.
I still get afraid. I still wake up at 4 am wondering about the unknown. But bit by bit, I understand better what I am stepping into. And sometimes, I find myself resting in that, too.
Jeff
But we can rest while we are active, too.
Much of what we perceive as effort is simply resistance. What do I mean by this? Often, when we are trying to do one thing, we are doing it because we don't want something else to happen. When we are playing a game, we want to win, but we also want not to lose. When we are investing, we want to make money, but we also want not to lose money. When we are giving a speech, we want not to mess up or embarrass ourselves. And so forth.
In any effort, there is both creative energy and fear. Too often, what really motivates us is the fear. This is why procrastination can appear to be a successful strategy. We wait till the fear kicks in and ride that energy until we get our speech/project/presentation done. Even though fear will do the work, it tends to do the bare minimum. Fear doesn't take many chances. Fear goes pretty much by the book.
When I talk to people about how contemplative practice lessens fear, a lot mention how they are afraid (!) that without fear they would have no motivation. The procrastination strategy would no longer work--they are sure they would become apathetic lumps eating junk food and surfing the Web all day.
In my experience, this is not what happens. Instead, as we become more comfortable with our own fears, our fear of being judged, of taking a risk, of saying what we really feel, gets much less. When there is less of a fear of failure, it is a lot easier to get started. Productivity and motivation actually increase rather than decrease. There is activity in an open space of creativity rather than in a closed space of fear. And that activity, paradoxically, is energizing, as much or more than rest. You become the state of flow, the activity itself.
This is a gradual journey, but over time, there can be significant changes. A first step is to notice when you feel fear. Just be with that fear. Step right into it. As you become more familiar with the sensations, their grip will lessen. Fear will not be as scary as you thought.
I still get afraid. I still wake up at 4 am wondering about the unknown. But bit by bit, I understand better what I am stepping into. And sometimes, I find myself resting in that, too.
Jeff
Friday, March 12, 2010
Wait Ten Minutes
I lived in Chicago for 13 years. The wind and Lake Michigan would do some crazy things there. The weather people had a saying--"If you don't like the weather, just wait ten minutes and it will be different."
In my experience, the same thing is true with feelings.
Peter Fenner often works with his students to explore their feelings, particularly those sticky ones that seem to ruin your day. He may ask a student to describe the feeling. Where is it? In the stomach? The heart? What does it feel like? Sharp, dull, stinging?
In the process of describing the feeling, the feeling changes. In the process of trying to find the feeling, what one finds instead is that it can't be found. It moves. It changes. And even the persistent ones tend to dissipate if we just accept and examine them, rather than trying to escape them.
Remarkably, this process seems to work with just about any feeling. It works best with another person doing the exploring with us, though. We don't seem to have the patience to do this kind of exploration on our own. And we tend to think about the result ("I want to get rid of this now!") rather than engaging in a true examination.
The next time you are feeling frustrated, or upset, or anxious, I'd invite you to find a friend, examine what you are feeling for a few minutes, and see what happens.
Have a great weekend--I'll be back Monday.
Jeff
In my experience, the same thing is true with feelings.
Peter Fenner often works with his students to explore their feelings, particularly those sticky ones that seem to ruin your day. He may ask a student to describe the feeling. Where is it? In the stomach? The heart? What does it feel like? Sharp, dull, stinging?
In the process of describing the feeling, the feeling changes. In the process of trying to find the feeling, what one finds instead is that it can't be found. It moves. It changes. And even the persistent ones tend to dissipate if we just accept and examine them, rather than trying to escape them.
Remarkably, this process seems to work with just about any feeling. It works best with another person doing the exploring with us, though. We don't seem to have the patience to do this kind of exploration on our own. And we tend to think about the result ("I want to get rid of this now!") rather than engaging in a true examination.
The next time you are feeling frustrated, or upset, or anxious, I'd invite you to find a friend, examine what you are feeling for a few minutes, and see what happens.
Have a great weekend--I'll be back Monday.
Jeff
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