Connection-Disconnection — Cheetah House

MINDFULNESS: CONNECTION OR DISCONNECTION?

[listen to audio version via Cheetah tracks]

For me, the harm that mindfulness meditation caused was a gradual disconnection from myself that led to a chronic illness. I know that sounds like the opposite of what mindfulness is supposed to do.

“But it was a natural progression, that over time, and many many repetitions, undermined my ability to hear my own body’s messages for me.”

It started with basic instructions for mindfulness of breathing: Pay attention to the sensations of breathing, and when the mind wanders, label that as “thinking” and return to the breath. If the mind says “this is boring, let’s do something else,” or any other kind of resistance to the practice, then noting that as a thought—a transient event in the mind, the content of which does not require unpacking—then let it go and return to the breath. Over and over, with every thought, regardless of content, valence, or urgency. Knee pain, and the impulse “I want to move”—just a thought, back to the breath. Hunger, loneliness, sadness, anger, pain can all be related to as transient “weather patterns” that come and go on their own and do not require action or “fixing.” They can just be observed, and allowed “to be.”

Fast forward ten years. Meditation teacher training, and a lot of books, retreats, and podcasts. All of these contained subtle messages that further encouraged the disconnection—messages of anti-individualism and self-sacrifice: Suffering comes from seeking happiness for oneself, while wellbeing only comes from seeking the happiness of others. As a woman, I already got this message from a young age. Now, disregarding my own needs is moral and spiritual progress. Even more reason… Exposure: In addition to selfishness, suffering comes from avoidance of pain, which includes any kind of “fixing”; freedom comes from “leaning into your sharp points,” from “turning toward the difficult” without resistance or trying to change it. Complete surrender.

With this training in hand, I can sit for hours on end, without moving. Unaffected by pain, hunger, fatigue, fear or any other message by mind or body sends me. Spending the rest of my days serving others tirelessly, having transcended the demands of the self, without desires, or needs, equanimous, and free. (Notice the lack of “I” in that last sentence. What a triumph.)

Most dharma stories end there, with happily ever after. But I’m not riding a horse into the sunset or hanging out in the Pure Land Heaven. I’m living life with a family, kids and a job; and now, as a result of ignoring messages from my body to rest, sleep or set boundaries with others, a chronic illness. More than any meditation practice, that illness has become my greatest teacher. It gives me swift and severe feedback, and it doesn’t give a shit about ideologies.

“In order to be well, I have had to unlearn more than 10,000 hours of meditation and thousands of pages of books—in order to listen, hear AND ACT ON the messages my body sends me; to see pain and emotions not as something to allow and let be, but as a need to be attended to. Ironically, this undoing of my mindfulness practice is my mindfulness practice now.”

And it could have always been. Paying attention to one’s mind and body (i.e. mindfulness) COULD be about fostering deeper connection with oneself, to be more attentive to one’s needs, to take better care of oneself. But it can—and often does—lead to disconnection. I have learned (the hard way) that there are many different ways to be mindful and attentive, and that if we are not awake and discerning, we can end up very far away from what we initially intended. It took me more than a decade and a chronic illness to figure this out, so I am so happy to see that there is a movement to help meditators see the various options early on, so their practice can foster wellbeing rather than undermine it.

[listen to audio version via Cheetah tracks][What is Cheetah Tracks?]