Tolerance: the Ability to Endure

'Tolerance' isn't most folks' favorite word. Tolerance: the ability to endure something we find unpleasant. Blah.

Yet when we get the least bit invested in mindful practice, tolerance is as good as chocolate. If we want to discover what makes us happy, tolerance is one of the doors.

Evolution has hardwired us to turn away from lots of stuff: stuff that scares, hurts, disappoints, confuses. For most of our lives we mostly go with how we're wired.

And then we begin to accumulate clues that life, as we've lived it so far, is smaller than we'd hoped--constricted, and for many of us, disappointing.

Yet over time, we'll glimpse something in others who have wider, deeper experience of life, and something in us finds it attractive. We're somehow 'pulled' toward it. But, no surprise, once we're pulled toward what our hardwiring has resisted, we'll also become uncomfortable.

Every doorway into deeper happiness has (in small print) an inscription: "This passage will make you uncomfortable." But this is where we learn to love tolerance. We never make it to the other side of uncomfortable passages without it.

One of the first gifts and challenges of contemplative practice is tolerance. What do we do with each thought or feeling that comes up in mindful practices? We accept it, we tolerate it. We even experiment with 'welcoming' it. This is big time training.

Over time, all kinds of 'crap' comes up. And what's the practice? "This too" is this practice. Tolerate, welcome this and this and this and THIS TOO. When we do, we see so much that we've never seen before simply because now we're no longer avoiding it just because it makes us squirm.

Cultivating tolerance in meditation carries over into the rest of our lives and makes a big difference. Whatever that inner muscle is (that learns to hold and welcome what makes us uncomfortable) 'volunteers' to hold all kinds of everyday stuff--challenges at work, hard conversations, bad news. Lots of important stuff we used to ignore, deflect, gloss over, deny--we now know how to work with (not always skillfully--but it's a promising start)!

Becoming familiar with any landscape makes it easier to navigate--whether the landscape is personal, social, professional, or (imagine this) political.

Tolerance: the ability to endure something we find unpleasant. Imagine...stuff that drives us crazy today over time leading to deeper happiness.

Chore Mindfulness

Friday's my day off. It's a glorious day today in Western Norther Carolina. What shall I do?

Chores.

I'd rather hike. Or read. Or learn how to use a new photo-editing app.

So...instead, maybe I should just hurry and get the 'necessary' stuff out of the way and then enjoy the 'good' stuff? What would you say to me about that?

What I often do on Friday's is to take the time I'd spend in formal meditation and commit to being mindful in chores. I'm reasonably lousy at it, but even as random as I am in coming into Presence in chore moments, it makes a real difference.

My main goal is to notice when I'm caught in wanting to get 'this' out of the way in order to get to 'that.' To pause. Chuckle. Breathe. Smile. Feel the broom or the hoe in my hand. Thank God for brooms and hoes and hands. Feel my feet on the floor or on the Earth. Catch a glimpse of how ironic it is to be wishing away any of my time on the Earth.

In five minutes (or less) I'll be doing this wishing-away again. At the first 'notice' that frustration is rising up, that I'm judging and begrudging my resistance to something as necessary as chores--those lovely contemplative habits will kick in again, and "I" will let these thoughts "go." And they will.

And then, if I'm lucky, I'll forget all about contemplative habits and resistance and judgment and once again take up my vacuum cleaner and follow Jesus ;-)

Even Trauma

Hope is a rich gift. Trust is life-sustaining. Hope and trust together are bread and water for our hardest journeys. Hope gets us going. Trust keeps us moving. Together they give us what we need in order to risk entering the Valley of the Shadow of Death where we meet Presence, our companion even on passages through hell. 

Below is another of Jack Kornfield's blessed stories. Hope and trust have big roles. 

But since this is a story about terrible trauma, it's also essential to balance hope and trust with patience and caution--and I think JK writes with this kind of sensibility. God-awful trauma is never something to breeze through or to see with the slightest bit of rose-tint in our glasses.

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For Katie, a young woman who had been abducted and raped, mindfulness of the body was a delicate and painful journey. She came to a month-long meditation retreat to heal her trauma and find some inner peace. At first, the intensity of her painful memories kept her completely out of her body. Then, with a tenderhearted attention, Katie found that she could feel her feet when she walked. But sitting was too stressful for her. She had been tied up and the immobility was too similar to her abduction. So, instead of sitting practice, she walked and walked, learning to fully feel her feet on the earth, her legs, and her movement.

Next she used her breath as she walked to breathe compassion into the rigidity and terror, into the tension in her shoulders, arms, and torso. Periodically waves of fear, rage, and grief washed over her and she had to rest. Sometimes she would reestablish a sense of well-being by holding on to a tree or feeling her feet touching the earth.

When Katie felt stronger she began to sit—“immobilized,” as she called it—and little by little allow the memories of ropes and panic to arise. To support this practice, we sat together often, establishing a trusting field of compassion that could allow for her healing. Guiding her attention with kindness, she began to feel all the sensations she had avoided for so long. Her body wept and shook. Then she slowly opened to the feelings and images. By taking it a little at a time, she was gradually able to tolerate and release more and more of the memory.

After several weeks of practice she relaxed her grip on the story. Her experience became just sensation, just feelings, just a memory. She realized with relief that her abduction was not present anymore. All that was present was sensations, thoughts, feeling, and spacious release. Katie began to feel free.

Working With Brother Pain

Sometimes, ironically, one of our best spiritual teachers is Brother Pain. As long as we're happy and life is 'normal' we usually have little motivation to 'study' the way that leads to bigger life. This is just the way it is--and there's no need to seek pain--it comes when it does. But when IT does come, it's wise and helpful to recognize  pain's relatedness to LIFE.

The following is another of Jack Kornfield's rich story/quote passages. It's from The Wise Heart.

I particularly value the wisdom in JK's phrase 'more workable'--and the Anne Morrow Lindbergh passage he quotes dramatically brings 'workable' to life.

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Last year, Malik, a man with a progressive form of rheumatoid arthritis, came to a practice at a retreat. He had done all he could medically for himself, but he was still frustrated and angry. We worked together as he learned to soften the anger and aversion around the pain, to breathe and hold his body, even the contractions, with kind attention. He used the traditional image of a parent holding and protecting a crying child. Equally important, Malik had to learn to relax his judgments, his frustration and anger and self-pity. He learned compassion practice for himself and extended it to all those whose bodies are in pain.

Gradually, Malik's physical pain and frustration became more workable. He discovered how to honor his crippled body with a tender attention. He recognized the lesson Anne Morrow Lindbergh discovered during the birth of her child. "Go with the the pain. Let it take you...open your palms and your body to the pain. It comes in waves like a tide, and you must be open as a vessel lying on the beach, letting it fill you up and then, retreating, leaving you empty and clear.... With a deep breath--it has to be as deep as the pain--one reaches a kind of inner freedom from pain, as though the pain were not yours but your body's. The spirit lays the body on the altar."

Four Foundations of Mindfulness

Four years ago I drove my car after the engine warning light came on. I had to get to a meeting. After the meeting I noticed a loud clicking I'd never heard before. I was almost in Asheville anyway so I took the car to the dealer. The engine was practically 'frozen'--which meant part of the engine had gotten so hot that bits of it melted and were now stuck together.  $5,600.00 to repair (replace the engine).

I was so frustrated with myself. My feelings and their 'accusations' were so intense.

I called my wife and asked her to come pick me up--an hour's drive--so I had 60 minutes to stew in my own juices. And plenty of juices to stew in.

I begin to do mindful practices--and they were quite helpful. But I wish I'd had the rather comprehensive list posted below--Jack Kornfield's summary of the 4 Foundations of Mindfulness (found in The Wise Heart). They're much more detailed than most of us need most of the time. And they suggest working in ways that seem like overkill to many of us. Kind of like a child wanting to learn how to ride a bike and a grownup launching into the progression of the 30 gears to use climbing Mt Mitchell.

But one day, that child might want to bike up Mt. Mitchell. And then...curiosity and necessity may well open up a whole new area of interest and need.

I'd recommend making a copy of this. Then when something is really stewing in you, pull it out. Read it again. Then work with what's 'cooking' in some of the ways that JK suggests.

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With recognition and acceptance we recognize our dilemma and accept the truth of the whole situation. Then we investigate more fully. Whenever we are stuck, it is because we have not looked deeply enough into the nature of the experience.

As we undertake the Investigation part of RAIN practice (here's a link), we focus on the four critical areas of experience: Body, Feelings, Mind, and Dharma. These are called the four foundations of mindfulness…here's a simple overview:

When we are investigating a difficulty and something is cooking inside, we want first to become aware of what's happening in our BODY. Can we locate where in the body the difficulties are held? Sometimes we find heat, contraction, hardness, or vibration. Sometimes we notice throbbing, numbness, or even a certain shape and color. Are we meeting this area with resistance or with mindfulness? What happens when we hold these sensations with mindfulness? Do they open? Are there other layers? Is there a center? Do they intensify, move, expand, change, repeat, dissolve, or transform?

Next we need to investigate which FEELINGS are part of this difficulty. Is the primary feeling tone pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral? And then we ask—Are we meeting this particular feeling with mindfulness? And what are the secondary feelings associated with it? Often we discover a constellation of feelings.

A man remembering his divorce may feel sadness, anger, jealousy, loss, fear, and loneliness. A woman who was unable to help her addicted nephew can feel longing, aversion, guilt, desire, emptiness, and unworthiness.

With mindfulness, each feeling is recognized and accepted. We investigate whether it is pleasant or painful, contracted or relaxed, tense or sad. We notice where we feel the emotion in our body and what happens to it as it is held in awareness.

Looking next into the MIND, we notice what thoughts and images are associated with this difficulty. We become aware of all the stories, judgments, and beliefs we are holding. When we look more closely, we often discover that some of them are one-sided, fixed points of view, or outmoded, habitual perspectives. We see that they are only stories. With mindfulness we loosen their hold on us. We cling less to them.

The fourth foundation of mindfulness is the DHARMA. Dharma is an important and multifaceted word. It can mean the teachings and the path of Buddhism. It can mean the Truth, and in this case it can also mean the elements and patterns that make up experience. Investigating the Dharma, we look into the principles and laws that are operating. Is the experience actually as solid as it appears? Is it unchanging, or is it impermanent, moving, shifting, re-creating itself? Does the difficulty expand or contract the space in our mind? Is it under our control or does it seem to have a life of its own? We notice if it is self-constructed. We investigate whether we are clinging tight, resisting it, or simply letting it be. We see whether our relationship to it is a source of suffering or happiness. And finally, we notice how much we identify with. This leads us back to RAIN, and to the principle of non-identification.

Slogging in the Right Direction

I emphasize the commitment to embodied practice a lot--to myself and to others--because it's so helpful, because it's essential, and because our culture so often resists and dismisses the need for slow, slogging, drudge  work in favor of induced epiphanies and quick fixes.

Slow, slogging, drudge work in service of continued wise and healthy formation of body, mind, and soul is a wonderful thing.

Epiphanies feel decisive--yet they often aren't. We, our perspectives, the world (!) can seem fresh and transformed in epiphanal moments. Yet always we come back to the world as it's usually experienced: with one possible (and decisive) difference.

If before the epiphany we were headed in the 'wrong' direction, and after the epiphany we are headed in the 'right' direction, everything IS different.

What, in our deepest and truest experience of life and ourselves, do we love, recognize, and value most? Turning toward THAT is the wisest thing we'll ever do. Life in many ways will still be a slow and steady slog, but now it will be a slow and steady slog slowly and steadily taking us deeper and deeper into wholeness and our heart's desire.

After a decisive turn like this, it's just a matter of regularly checking the compass and reorienting--and our many ongoing epiphanies are mostly just delightful confirmations that we're slogging in the right direction. Alleluia.

Video in the Headroom

I like TV crime-solving shows. Just finished watching last season's 'The Killing'--a transplanted Danish series that AMC produced. Dark. Slow-but-fraught. Well done.

Like many other detective series, video cameras play a crucial role. Cops request past footage from parking garages, ATM's, toll booths--and what was thought to be hidden gets seen, becomes evidence. What was vehemently denied gets grudgingly acknowledged.

Practicing awareness is like detectives asking for video footage--except not in the past but in the present. Many things that were 'hidden' get 'seen.' Mysteries get solved. Really big ones. In some way the Biggest of them all.

• Like the Buddha's: "Why do we suffer?"
• Like Paul's: "The very things I most want to do I don't seem able to do--it's the stuff I don't want to do that I wind up doing. What's going on?"

Many theories describe the human dilemma. Which ones ring truest for us? Ah, why don't we review the footage so we can get a more accurate take on the Problem?

This is the first thing mindfulness does--invites us to see for ourselves how our 'selves' work. We become witnesses of our own lives (so much less intrusive than having witnesses called to testify for or against us later).

Recent psychological research tells us that in most arguments, the side we take usually has nothing to do with logic--though we try to argue 'logically' in order to win. The side we take is almost always instinctive, knee-jerk, dumb (see Jonathan Haidt's The Happiness Hypothesis).

Don't believe this? Simple--see for yourself (actually, see in yourself). Witness (deeply) the seed, the unfolding, the process of an argument you're in.

Not long ago I would have argued about what drives what we argue about. Not anymore. And this applies to everything. Seeing for ourselves, accurately, is foundational to becoming healthier, wiser, and happier.

Once we witness the stuff that's tripping us up, keeping us from doing what and being who we most value, the way forward has more light on it--and we have more energy for and trust in the process.