The twelfth chapter of David Brazier's The Feeling Buddha ends: "This ability to be both in and aside from the feeling at the same time is something that the Buddha taught his disciples to cultivate. He did not teach them to not have feelings. He taught them to allow the process to flow whilst also being able to observe it. The flow of feelings gives us essential information about our lives. To cut them off would be one extreme — the extreme of asceticism. To abandon ourselves to their control would be the other extreme — the extreme of indulgence. The Buddha taught a Middle Way between these extremes, a middle current where life flows effectively. This teaching of observing feeling while in the feelings is given time and again in the Buddha's basic instructions on mindfulness."Having lived some parts of my life at both of these extremes, I for one now gladly embrace the Middle Way. Mindfulness is the key here, I think — though I'm not going to go into that right now, as many other writers and bloggers have explored it at length, and I've talked about it myself on my other blog The Solitary Walker, particularly with reference to Jon Kabat-Zinn, Steve Hagen, Eckhart Tolle, Krishnamurti and other Buddhist, Zen Buddhist and Buddhist-influenced thinkers.
Stephen Batchelor, in his book Buddhism Without Beliefs, writes: "Much of the time we are driven by a relentless and insistent surge of impulses . . ." (For impulses also read feelings and emotions.) He then goes on to consider randomly one emotion in isolation, the emotion of "hatred": ". . . to embrace hatred does not mean to indulge it. To embrace hatred is to accept it for what it is: a disruptive but transient state of mind. Awareness observes it jolt into being, colouring consciousness and gripping the body. The heart accelerates, the breath becomes shallow and jagged, and an almost physical urge to react dominates the mind. At the same time, this frenzy is set against a dark, quiet gulf of hurt, humiliation, and shame. Awareness notices all this without condoning or condemning, repressing or expressing. It recognises that just as hatred arises, so will it pass away. By identifying with it ('I really am pissed off!'), we fuel it . . ."
As I read this post, with Brazier speaking of "observing feeling" and Batchelor noting that "awareness observes," I can't help but recall a Sherlock Holmes line from "Scandal in Bohemia." My dear Watson, Holmes stated, "you see, but you do not observe." In most spheres of life, it's so important to observe what is truly happening, for the immediate sensations that are triggered by the reptilian brain are not always reliable measures of the truth.
ReplyDeleteI like Batchelor's description of negative emotions as a "disruptive but transient state of mind." If only I could remember those two words—"but transient"—when the negative emotions begin to reach flood level. I get there eventually, but I find that it takes a great deal of training and discipline to maintain equilibrium in the initial stages of every emotional challenge.
In your response to my comment on your last post, you asked rhetorically if we will ever achieve a state of mindfulness that will keep us centered in the authentic, true self. I'm inclined to think that T.S. Eliot was close to providing the right answer when he said that we are "only undefeated because we have gone on trying."
It's a funny thing for me to come over and visit here. I'm very interested in where your thoughts take you, yet these issues just don't seem to occupy me. I find my happiness comes from looking out, not in (which is not to say I haven't had years of looking in as well). The looking out is what sends me to your Rilke and your beautiful walks, and to George's quote from Eliot here: "we are 'only undefeated because we have gone on trying.'" All of that, I love.
ReplyDeleteThanks, George, for your response to my post. Absolutely spot-on!
ReplyDeleteAnd Susan — thanks for reading and commenting. I suppose I look both out and in. Indeed, it may be seen as the same process. Exterior journeys are also interior journeys; the microcosm of the self is also the macrocosm of the universe. John Muir said somewhere that going outside was really going inside. And Rilke too, I think, explored equally both the inner and the outer worlds.
Ah, what you quote of John Muir resonates enormously. Thank you for that insight.
ReplyDeleteI followed your Mindfulness link to Wikipedia. The bit on "Zen criticism" I thought was particularly interesting.
ReplyDeleteI have learned a lot from Buddhist ideas. Observing feelings, not judging them, is a huge breakthrough for me. I do have one fear: that the so-called "middle ground" will be emotionless and cold. I remember reading an interview with Eckhart Tolle's partner Kim Eng, and she spoke of how unattached Tolle seemed in their relationship, or so it sounded to me. I was struck cold by it. It seemed almost as if it didn't matter to him if she were there or not.
ReplyDeleteI don't like the malignant feeling of my previous comment. Certainly, Eckhart Tolle must have achieved a state of peace and contentment, in relationship with Kim, and all things. And so rather than cold and unfeeling, his state is more like bliss, whatever comes. But many times I have encountered my own response to "the middle ground" with a lack of understanding, and a bit of fear that it means "lack of feeling" altogether.
ReplyDeleteIndeed, Ruth — I voiced the same "fear" on this blog a few posts ago. It's one of the slight difficulties I have with Buddhism — though Buddhism, I must say (and I claim to be no expert), has given me so much. That bliss-like state can seem on the surface to be so impassive, so controlled, so damn emotionless. But I find that, if one can go beyond this, one realises that the true buddhas and bodhisattvas are more than ready to laugh and giggle and reveal themselves as real human beings, with strong and wilful emotions, just like everyone else.
ReplyDelete