Why Meditate? Part 3

This is the third of a three-part series of posts about meditation. The first part can be found below, posted on January 5, called “Why Meditate?” The next two parts arise out of my view of the world of outcome-based meditation practice and research, and the contrast I find between that approach (in which I currently make part of my living) and something that is possibly deeper, purer, larger, and much more important: namely, the source of all this “mindfulness” hoopla, which is the teaching of the dharma, or the truth (also known as “the way things are”). Part II is the entry just before this one, dated January 17, 2008.

Here is Part III:

Are We Missing Something?

If you are a psychotherapist or counselor of any stripe, you cannot be unaware of the rising popularity of methods, programs, workshops, and books that mention the word “mindfulness,” usually referring to a type of meditation known as mindfulness, or insight meditation (or Vipassana). The mainstream peer-reviewed professional journals are also increasingly featuring scientific studies supporting the hypothesis that engaging in mindfulness meditation reliably produces various beneficial results (see my blog post below, dated December 20).

Recently I returned from a meditation retreat attended by various scientists who are actively engaged in the practice and study of mindfulness meditation (see my blog post below, dated January 16). Some of us do research that focuses on psychosocial or biometric variables that might be influenced by the practice of meditation (e.g., depression; anxiety; blood pressure); others directly study brain function, and changes in the brain that appear to be correlated with the practice of meditation.

In my own professional life, I am actively engaged in the teaching of mindfulness meditation and the study of the effects of that practice on a variety of outcomes (see my blog post below, dated December 20). The results of our research at Avila University are consistent with previous findings, i.e., that training people in the practice of mindfulness meditation, and supporting them in that practice, can have very positive results (e.g., lower depression and anxiety; improved attentional capacity).

All of this is very good, of course. Vipassana, or mindfulness meditation, is drawn more or less directly from the teachings of the Buddha, who set out 2500 years ago to find the causes and alleviation of human suffering. He taught what is known as the Eightfold Path as a way to help human beings escape from the cycle of misery expressed so vividly by Thomas Hobbes, who famously and sadly commented that human life is typically “poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” An important part of the Eightfold Path is the practice of mindfulness, usually taught by various methods of meditation.

Accordingly, those of us who teach meditation in mental health or community wellness settings are in good company. In a sense, we stand in the lineage of all the Buddhist masters and teachers of the past 2500 years who dedicated their lives to the alleviation of suffering. And yet, as I administer various psychological instruments to our study subjects, and have them weighed and measured in all sorts of ways, and as I statistically analyze the results, I have the nagging sense that I am missing something, something very important.

This sense of “off”-ness was exacerbated during the retreat from which I just returned. Our retreat leaders included Joseph Goldstein and Sharon Salzberg, who are among the most dedicated and experienced, most respected, and best-trained meditation teachers in the United States. Their books about the practice of meditation and compassion are excellent, and have changed many lives (including my own). Listening to their talks and their teaching, in person, was deeply moving to me and to many others at this retreat. And I could not help but notice that Joseph and Sharon never talked about depression, or anxiety, or blood pressure. Instead, they talked about the true nature of reality; of our fundamental interconnectedness and interdependence; and the distorted understanding(s) we have of our true nature that cause so much conflict within and among humans, and all beings in existence. As I listened to them, I felt as if I had come home again to the original reason(s) that had attracted me to the practice of meditation within the tradition of Buddhist thought and its expression.

In our current scientific enthusiasm about meditation/mindfulness, I think that we sometimes forget two things: one is that the Buddha’s revolutionary method for the alleviation of human suffering does not consist only of the practice of meditation; and, second, that its ultimate goal is much more far-reaching and much more profound than could ever be measured by brain scans, psychological testing instruments, or blood pressure devices. More about each of these points, below:

The Eightfold Path: Not too long ago I was talking with a Jesuit priest about Buddhism. Like all Jesuits, he is a very highly educated man, and he had spent significant time in Japan, living in a Buddhist culture, sometimes talking with Buddhist monks and priests. So I was startled when he told me that, although he admired some aspects of Buddhism, he found that it lacking because it did not include any teaching about ethics. After taking a moment to get over my amazement, I gently explained to him that ethical teaching is, in fact, very much a central part of Buddhist philosophy and practice. For one thing, all practicing Buddhists pledge themselves to the 5 basic “precepts”: to refrain from killing (or harming) other beings; to refrain from stealing; to refrain from lying; to refrain from sexual misconduct; and to refrain from intoxication, or anything that clouds consciousness. And, of even more fundamental importance, a central teaching of the Buddha within the Eightfold Path is the cultivation and practice of a certain “right”-ness in all areas of life, including: what sort of work we are engaged in; how we talk to each other; and the motivations behind our speech and other conduct.

Accordingly, the practice of meditation should be seen as part of a larger, multimodal set of practices that are to be cultivated and lived together. The intent and teaching of the Eightfold Path is to lead us into the practice of meditation as part of a life in which we are also actively engaged in, and attentive to, central life choices, behaviors, and attitudes such as: intention/motivation, speech, conduct, and livelihood.

[You can go to the links on “Eightfold Path” under the del.icio.us links, in the left-hand column of this blog, to find more information about this.]

Ultimate “Attainment”: The great Korean Zen Master Seung Sahn (called Dae Soen Sa Nim by his students) told a story of being hospitalized for heart trouble. While he was in the hospital, he said, someone offered to teach him meditation as a way to help lower his blood pressure. One irony, of course, is that anyone would presume to instruct such a great Buddhist master teacher in the practice of meditation. But the real point of the story, as he told it, was that Dae Soen Sa Nim did not subscribe to the notion that the purpose of meditation was to lower one’s blood pressure. He was after much larger fish, in deeper water. His life was about bringing students to much more profound realities and realizations, than might be evidenced by improved bodily functions.

The Bodhisattva vows, recited daily by many students and practitioners of Buddhism, are: “Sentient beings are numberless; we vow to save them all. Delusions are endless; we vow to cut through them all. The teachings are infinite; we vow to learn them all. The Buddha way is inconceivable; we vow to attain it.” These are no small undertakings! They can serve to demonstrate that the point or purpose of meditation can be seen as much larger and deeper than (for example) the reduction of one’s blood pressure (although that may very well happen along the way). According to this viewpoint, the true purpose of the practice is to cut through all our many and varied attachments, aversions, and mental distortions, in order to reach a realization of our own true nature, the true nature of all reality, and to find (to truly realize) our deep connection with all other beings. In doing so, we may find great joy, along with deepest sorrow; and we may find that we are able to bring compassion to ourselves and others in our lives. In an ultimate sense, we may be bringing peace, clarity, and compassion into the universe.

Conclusion: I think that it’s good to teach meditation to a wide variety of people who are interested in learning about it, and to encourage people to practice meditation for any of the many positive purposes they may bring to the practice. The intention, or explicit goal, we bring to meditation practice may very well (and actually is likely to) change over time, if one continues the practice, and that is perfectly fine. I also believe that it is important to teach people about the original context(s) of meditation and its practice, and the full range of depths to which they can take us. And, finally, we should never assume that the “beneficial effects” of meditation, as measured by contemporary science, constitute the full answer to the intriguing question posed by Sharon Salzberg in our recent retreat: “What happens [when we do this practice]?” What really happens, indeed? The Buddha would encourage you to embark on the path, and find out how your own experience would answer that question.