Questioning Requirements

I felt absolutely exuberant for several days after I got back from my retreat. This kind of meditation tends to create a lot of intensity, so whatever is happening emotionally is magnified. Good things were happening. (Nothing jaw-dropping, but even the simplest nice thing was profoundly pleasant.)

Last year the teachers warned us about the increased intensity and said to be careful in our communications in the period right after the retreat. I was sure I wouldn’t have any problems, but within a few days, I had mortally offended a coworker, when, to my mind, I was just making a simple clarification.

Nonetheless, excited about the pleasant effects of concentration practice, I decided to make that my daily practice, but had to give it up when I found myself being unduly cranky, and go back to vipassana and metta.

This year I got a ride home from someone who does much concentration practice and loves the effects, including what he experiences as a great clarity. I decided that maybe my problem had been that instead of simply directing my attention to the object of awareness (my breath) and letting whatever happened happen, I was seeking to achieve pleasant feelings, and that was bringing a grim Type-A sensibility to my practice and my life.

So I have been doing an hour a day of concentration practice since this year’s retreat and after a few days, it seemed I might be going to get the same results as last year. I realized that though I was making a conscious effort not to exaggerate my breath so as to have something to notice, I was still doing that to some degree, which produces a headache; I had a persistent headache at the beginning of the retreat and had one off and on until the end of the retreat.

Instead of seeking to notice the sensations of the breath, I decided just to notice the spot where I would feel the sensations if there were any to feel, and that is working much better. The spot is the top of the upper lip. I focus my attention there and after a breath or two, faint sensations are detectable, but even if they weren’t, it wouldn’t matter, since it’s an exercise in paying attention, not a breathing exercise.

I also found myself expecting to feel a certain way as the result of my practice—to feel calm, or not to feel angry. I had to go back to square one and remember to say yes to things exactly as they are. I will suffer if I have a goal to be calm, while having the intention simply to notice things as they are can bring magical results at times. Then the trick is not to get attached to those results and want more of the same, but to let things morph as they will.

It turned out not to work so well to focus on my breath throughout the day. It is working best for now to attend to the breath in formal sitting periods, and to attend to other physical sensations and thoughts during the day, particularly noticing my requirements or how I think things are supposed to be, or how I’m supposed to be. Ezra Bayda’s first two books have been inspirational in this regard.

He also has managed to make it sink in that life will never be problem-free, that having a goal not to have problems is absolutely unrealistic, and that problems are, as Stephen Levine says, grist for the mill. They aren’t obstacles to the path, they are the path. They are in fact wonderful opportunities to see the beliefs that make us miserable, which kind of boil down to “It shouldn’t be like this. I should have more of the things I like and less of the things I don’t like.”

This is not to say that I should let people treat me unfairly in the name of accepting what is, but to take the opportunity to see what my thoughts are and how those thoughts create suffering and to sort that all out before I communicate whatever needs to be communicated, if anything.

In the past week I had been going through some jitters about an upcoming event and found things unfolding in a way that I am pleased about. It seems a lot easier lately to see my thoughts and moods and to accept them as they are, whatever they may happen to be, instead of believing every last thought and then, on top of that, seizing the opportunity to make unkind judgments about myself.

For instance, I might start to think someone else involved in the event should be doing a certain thing. If I believe that thought, I might work myself into a complete state about what has to happen and how upset I’ll be if it doesn’t. Then I might notice this and berate myself for not being calmer. “I just don’t know how to handle these things and I never did. I’m just not good at these kinds of things. Maybe I shouldn’t participate.” Much misery.

Now I can just say, “Oh, having a thought that such-and-such has to happen.” As soon as I see it clearly, it’s already lost the majority of its power and I can go on to inquire if my happiness is really dependent on whatever thing. It’s not giving myself a pep talk: “No matter what happens, everything will be great!” but just taking a moment to question the requirement.