Unknown's avatar

on mindfulness, muggles, & crying wolf

I try. Really, I do.

This month has been bubbling with various posts on Eastern scholars decrying Western Mindfulness. It began with Ron Purser and David Loy’s HuffPo article, Beyond McMindfulness which is likely the first time anyone from the Buddhist scholarship community has overtly taken on the therapeutic, coaching Mindfulness machine. In brief, Purser & Loy expressed concerns that the current movement of Mindfulness is not only denaturing the dharma but also lending power to corporations so that already-beleaguered employees can be lulled into a somnolent state through practices like “nonjudgmental awareness.”

The results of the Purser & Loy article were not what I would have expected: linguistic mudslinging. Protests from what may be called the “secular” mindfulness groups were no less than defensive and somewhat histrionic.  Sadly, there were worthy points in the protests but mostly lost in the defensiveness and the mutually admiring comments that followed. (There’s a difference between acknowledging a good point and hopping on the bandwagon.)

Heavy hitters like Elisha Goldstein and Jeremy Hunter responded on blogs and websites. They make some good points but the overall tone is dismissive and there’s a lot of “they just don’t understand” commentary. I can’t blame the secular/therapeutic folks for the reactionary stance although I do have to ask: if you’re teaching mindfulness, how the heck do you end up being reactionary?

Ted Meissner of Secular Buddhist conducted an interview with Purser & Loy which I’d recommend – if only to hear how it should be done.  Announced in the podcast, Ted’s new venture Present Moment: Mindfulness practice and science is a nice out-growth of his interest in making Buddhist teachings more accessible. I like that Ted points out in the Purser-Loy interview that the issue of watering down the dharma may be confounded on both sides (he was referring to the religious-secular Buddhist issues he encounters) because “we’re not even doing the same thing.”

These are important and difficult issues to address. A long tradition of doing it one way has morphed into what seems on the surface as a travesty, a commodification of something sacred. As a Buddhist and a therapist who finds tremendous value in the Mindfulness-Based Interventions (MBIs), I find myself constantly caught in the middle of the battle for ownership of this precious resource. However, having come to terms with my own personal and professional dilemma around the use and potential abuse of the practice of mindfulness, I have to say this particular round of arguments has been maddening. So I wrote an article that summarizes the concerns of the Mindfulness Muggles and Wizards with no expectations that either will embrace the other.

Ted Meissner’s comment resonated with me on many levels. Perhaps this is not quite what he intended but I wondered: Are we not doing the same thing? The intention of Buddhist practice is the alleviation of suffering. So yes, regardless of whether you are part of the traditional school of mindfulness training or the pragmatic school, we are trying to lift the veil of suffering. I think the more piercing question is whether we are doing it the same way.

Are we doing it the same way? No. Traditional approaches to mindfulness are embedded in a religious/spiritual process that is not always relevant or necessary in a pragmatic sense. Moreover, the application of MBIs occurs in arenas where religious overtones can prevent them from being used or where a specific religion’s approach would be disrespectful to the indigenous religion. And no, we cannot argue that Buddhism is so adaptive that it can fold into any religious milieu. That’s like having your rice cake and communion host too.

Are we talking about the same thing? Perhaps. Christopher Titmuss wrote a terrific post that effectively said, Stop crying wolf!  A generally good rejoinder to the worries of creating corporate sheep or super-soldiers, Titmuss points out that there really is no evidence of this happening. However, I was struck by the way he (and others in the Buddhist writing world) zoned in on the language. Specifically, Titmuss and others have jumped on terminology like “nonjudgmental awareness,” “bare awareness,” etc. to argue that therein lay the magical seed of corruption. In other articles, the key words picked on to evoke the wolf are “not having emotions drive behavior,” “psychologically armour-up.” Let’s face it, if we want to spin an argument, we will spin it to our advantage no matter what side we’re on. An honest reading of all these terms may be helpful. Perhaps “nonjudgmental awareness” means attending to things without getting caught in the interpretative process. Perhaps there is a difference between “being judgmental” and “being discerning.” Perhaps “not having emotions drive behavior” refers to not acting impulsively or without consideration of the relational aspects of the situation.  Perhaps if we apply mindful listening, we would hear each side’s meaning and transcend the hot button words.

In fact, the biggest problem is from the language used on the Buddhist side. Everyone (and I find myself guilty as charged) zooms into the problem as not teaching “Right Mindfulness.” Search any post or interview and it will be the bête noire of pragmatic mindfulness that is raised to prove it is being done wrong.  I was especially disappointed in a recent interview with Alan Senauke on Tricycle in which he too commented that Mindfulness-Based Interventions are not Right Mindfulness. I admire Senauke and wonder how the interviewer managed to troll and hook him into this specious argument. Right Mindfulness is not the issue because if we take Bhikkhu Bodhi’s definition of Right Mindfulness, MBIs contain all the elements of his definition. What is at issue is mindfulness as a mental factor wherein it becomes the means to discern wholesome from unwholesome mental states. So the question really is whether we are assessing pragmatic mindfulness appropriately. Is it Right Mindfulness? Yes. Is it cultivating the mental factor of mindfulness? That may be arguable because it doesn’t hold the practice of sila in the foreground.

Let’s get back to that wolf at the temple door. Titmuss is correct in pointing out that there is no evidence of mindfulness being used for evil ends. Having worked in this field for 10 years, I have yet to be asked to turn corporate citizens into sheep or had participants in our military program turn into Terminators. Then again, we weave into the program practices that reflect the sila aspect of mindfulness.  However, it is important to examine these concerns. A Google search of “use of mindfulness in the military” turns up a number of hits.  None are related to making better “baby-killers.” As someone who works with the military, I find it astonishing that typically clear thinkers forget something fundamental. Given the exponential increase in mental illness from overseas deployments, we might argue that even intense military training can’t make super-soldiers who go out, do heinous things, and return unaffected. [Edit: This article on mindfulness in the military was just posted and is excellent.]

As for the corporate wolf, that’s an important one. My concerns are more about the sellers in the temple than in the product being supposedly commodified. It is true that anyone with a semblance of marketing skills can package mindfulness and flog it. Do we have control over this? None whatsoever. Particularly because there are no constraints on what most professionals can do and even less so in the unregulated professions. But here’s a more important question: Can mindfulness can be commodified? It always was, has been and will be. The exchange of goods for services has been part of every culture no matter whether we dress it up in robes or three-piece suits. Are we reacting to this because of the spiritual aspect of mindfulness? Most likely.

And that’s the final question: Why are there sides? I suppose it’s human. We all love our gurus and ideological stances. If the comments on posts around the blogosphere and speciality groups like LinkedIn are any indication, there are enough of these to love. What worries me most is just that; we are so caught on supporting our favourite personalities and celebrities that our forebrain has gone well offline. These are important questions being raised by both sides and the answers will not be easily surrendered from the clouds of greed, anger, and ignorance. What I wish I saw was more critical thinking from all sides and perhaps we will discover that there are no Muggles or Wizards, just magic.

Unknown's avatar

on compassionate community, septic tanks, and toast & jam with a nice cuppa

It’s a rainy Friday and I’ve successfully managed to navigate through a wild week of the ego roller coaster.  Success, of course, is not defined as achieving anything momentous but rather a capacity to stay with whatever is unfolding.  And this week it ranged from the ego-dizzying peaks of public talks to the crash of discovering our septic system is in need of attention.

You have to admit, reading the snip to the left, that we mindfulness practitioners tend to be a rather strange lot.  Or maybe it was only that I was Twittering with the Oxford Mindfulness Clinic whose Brit humour was quite appreciated in my moment of dire need.  Who else would suggest having a cuppa as we contemplate the exudate of our sack of blood and pus!

Well, the true practice of mindfulness is to find the surprise in the center of turmoil, the extraordinary in the ordinary, and the ordinary in the overblown.

Let me rewind.  The week was originally scattered through with several interviews for police officers wanting to make a transition to our local constabulary.  I tend to enjoy this facet of my life because it is a nice change from the inexhaustible flow of pain and suffering.  I’m being honest here; even we shrinks with all our pistons firing in the empathy engine look for some variety in the object of our concern.  This meant it was a relatively light week to get to the fiscal bottom line (they pay rather well) and when I ran into a schedule conflict for some public talks, I simply re-scheduled all three to the same week.

The first two talks were sweet.  Two hours of sharing the intricacies of mindfulness practice with physicians and other health care professionals on one day (they paid in chocolate) and a delightful lecture to a group undergrads at my alma mater on the second day (their prof paid in a Starbucks gift card).  I love doing this sort of thing.  It’s not just a chance to educate on mindfulness practices; it’s an important opportunity to dispel the myths and other ridiculous ideas we in the profession have about mindfulness.

The third talk was a heart-clencher.  There’s a new Kid in town called Mindfulness Ottawa which hopes to be a community of professionals who do what such groups do.  It’s a brave initiative and I’m 100% behind it.  Who doesn’t need a supportive community for the tough and gruff times?  Besides, they asked me to be the keynote speaker.  Brain-swell like that you can’t turn down (I didn’t know they wouldn’t be paying in chocolate).  The pressure on my rational center was enough that I wore a strapless black dress, high heels, and a red leather jacket.  (I’m assured that my big toes will not need amputation.)

In preparing the talk, I reflected on the many ways in which I have failed in trying to build compassionate community.  At one level, I don’t believe I have the personality that is soft-hearted enough.  And it’s not a contradiction to say I also don’t have a personality that is tough-minded enough.  To build a community that can fold in all manner of personalities does require a softness to flow with and a toughness to deflect all manner of challenges.  And yet… as we all introduced ourselves, it became apparent that two-thirds of the attendees had trained in our clinic and announced themselves having us (Frank and I) as their teachers.  Oh alright… some said “inspiration.”

I cried.

This is not how it’s supposed to go.  There’s supposed to be this slow and steady ramp up to fame and then ignominy in our dotage.  We were supposed to either schmooze our way into the limelight and be adored or work in relative obscurity only to be discovered sipping a shake at a local soda pop shop of mindfulness.   It wasn’t supposed to happen that one day we would show up with heart in throat to deliver a talk on “laying down the path to compassionate community” only to discover it had already happened.

I won’t complain.  These are good people.  And, truth be told, I am proud of what we have unwittingly accomplished and of every one of them as they lay down new paths in saving beings from suffering.  And… and… if they are still deluded in thinking their passion comes from some earthly source, who am I to argue – especially when some of them are frustrated pastry chefs who use me as their guinea piggy.

This is practice – tough, tough practice.  It unfolds deep in the heart of our experience as we, blinded by our self-importance, stumble about tramping down a peripatetic path.

I may never wear high heels again – at least not without having my feet bound.  I may never fit in that strapless black dress or red leather jacket again.  (Perhaps I should make that a metta practice: may I never…)

Certainly I will not as I tramp around trying to figure out what’s gone wrong with my septic system.