To continue with my two parallel tracks from last week, after the first paragraph where the Buddha pronounced this teaching of the four satipaṭṭhānas or abodes of mindfulness, "the direct path for the purification of beings, for the surmounting of sorrow and lamentation, for the disappearance of dukkah (suffering) and discontent, for acquiring the true method, for the realization of Nibbana (Nirvana),” he goes on in the next paragraph to tell us not only what are the four but also with what attitude we should practice.
"What are the four? Here, monks, in regard to the body a monk abides contemplating the body, diligent, clearly comprehending, and mindful, free from desires and discontent in regard to the world. In regard to feelings, a monk abides contemplating feelings, diligent, clearly comprehending, and mindful, free from desires and discontent in regard to the world. In regard to the mind, a monk abides contemplating the mind, diligent, clearly comprehending, and mindful, free from desires and discontent in regard to the world. In regard to the dhammas, a monk abides contemplating the dhammas, diligent, clearly comprehending, and mindful, free from desires and discontent in regard to the world.”
With regard to all of these realms of experience, we are urged to practice mindfulness with the urgency that comes from knowing our time on this earth is finite and unknowable, with clear knowing which comes from interest and investigation, and, of course, mindfulness, which is a quality of mind that arises when we place our awareness intentionally on an object in our experience, shining the light of our awareness on how we know what we know. Clear knowing and mindfulness support each other and each contains qualities of the other. And we are encouraged to practice free of desire (wanting) and discontent (aversion or not wanting).
In our exploration of the first satipaṭṭhāna or abode of mindfulness, mindfulness of the body, we have explored and will explore again, mindfulness of breathing, mindfulness while sitting, standing, walking and lying down, mindfulness while stretching the limbs, eating our meals, doing our daily routines of self-care, shopping, driving, talking on the phone - in short, mindfulness in all our activities.
More recently we explored mindfulness of anatomical parts. This meditation was pronounced “weird” as indeed it is. One of its purposes is for us to see more clearly what this body we inhabit and have so many thoughts about is really made up of. And many of them are off-putting. This view of the body as unlovely is purposefully encouraged to lighten our attachment to it and to cool off sensual passions that might arise in meditating.
The last two meditations of mindfulness of the body are mindfulness of the body as made up of elements - earth, water, fire, and wind - and mindfulness of the mortality of the body, that this body will die.
We will explore these last two arenas of mindfulness of the body to see what they have to teach us and how they can enhance our ability to live our lives fully and well for as long as we have.
This last meditation on dying is one that leads directly into the other parallel path I have been exploring on these pages - compassion for ourselves and for others as we wend our ways through this path of living in this challenging existence.
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I recently received this very relevant article from 10% Happier by Dr. Susan Pollok on collective trauma with her prescription of three practices for working with our own corner of the universe of collective trauma. I wanted to highlight this wonderful quote from meditation teacher and climate activist Joanna Macy,
“Like living cells in a larger body, it is natural that we feel the trauma of our world. So don’t be afraid of the anguish you feel, or the anger or fear, because these responses arise from the depth of your caring and the truth of your interconnectedness with all beings.”
She urges us to relax into our sadness, our anger, to just be with our natural, human responses to the crises we see and experience all around. Trying to pretend everything is OK when it isn’t is what divides us from ourselves and from each other.
I will write about the first of Dr. Pollak’s three prescriptions here which is walking meditation. The importance of walking meditation, of movement in meditation cannot be over stressed. Every meditation teacher I have ever read encourages walking or some form of movement for working with our triggered emotional states. Thich Naht Hanh instructed his monks and nuns traumatized from the Viet Nam war to practice walking meditation. Trauma specialist and creator of Somatic Experiencing, Peter Levine, author of Waking The Tiger and In An Unspoken Voice, stresses the importance of movement to help release our physiologies from their trauma-induced immobility response. And in these pages, I have recently referred to Heather Sundberg’s Six Practice Points for working with collective trauma, the first of which is movement and Pawan Bareja's movement related practices one of which we have been practicing in our sessions together.
As a reluctant practitioner of walking practice (I walk a lot, but less often do I do "walking practice"), I have come to appreciate again and again the value and importance of dedicated walking practice. Immobility as a freeze response to trauma can build up around watching the news, checking our phones, email accounts, texts message, WhatsApp, Instagram, etc etc etc. And despair can begin to settle in around those static avoidance measures. Just getting up and walking up and down can be so helpful. If you’re able to do it in pleasant surroundings, your own backyard, a nearby park, a forest or shoreline, the pleasant sensations can begin to make themselves known and soothe our furrowed brows while the motion gently rocks us into wakefulness.
Yesterday I heard a loud thump on one of my windows. When I went out to investigate, I found a beautiful red-winged blackbird motionless on the ground near a window. I picked him/her up and was saddened when her head flopped. But then she lifted it upright with her beak open. I gently lifted her up and down, up and down in the air over my head. The gentle motion mimics flight and can begin to restore her physiological processes. Then I attempted to put her on a branch. She fell to the ground with a thunk, but then sat up again. I gently picked her up and, at the unaccustomed touch, her wings suddenly fluttered and she took off, swooping low while she regained flight and then soaring up.
This was a direct demonstration of what Peter Levine talks about when he talks about immobility-induced by trauma. When the normal fight or flight process is interrupted by unconsciousness or hopelessness or entrapment, our animal physiology gets short-circuited. This can be life-saving in any number of situations. But we can get stuck in the immobility response and the trauma can settle in our tissues. When we are encouraged to activate our bodies, as my motions did with the red-winged black bird, it encourages the body to complete the physiological response of fight or flight and thus naturally restore itself to equilibrium.
We too can restore ourselves to flight - with movement practice.