This is something I’ve been thinking about over the past couple days, and I’m starting to wonder if this might actually be a major component of someone’s path out of anxiety, depression, OCD, etc. The biggest problem, however, is the proper way to do this is quite subtle (if I’m on to something); as it’s not a matter of just being motivated to get better, nor maintaining the focus to get better, it’s a matter of maintaining the right focus and having the right motivation. Let me explain.
I’ve been in and out of psychologists and psychiatrists for the better part of a decade now, and I’ve learned a great number of treatment methods; in fact, I would say I’ve been a target for the best treatment methods available over the past decade. I’ve also been exposed to, probably, a dozen psychiatric medications at one point or another – I’ve used a great many of them, and experienced the (sometimes horrible) side effects of them. I’ve been there, and I’ve done that…and yet, to this day, I can still experience debilitating anxiety. The past week or so I’ve been really pondering the question: why still? And – after some intense meditation on the subject – I think I might be understanding the dynamics a bit, and quite possibly why others continue to suffer after much treatment as well. And it lies in one of the most, in my experience, under-discussed areas.
My answer to Why? May actually be in the very question itself: Why?
I have been practicing Mindfulness (a Buddhist practice which has, recently, started gaining a large amount of attention in the academic circles for its high degree of efficacy in dealing with various anxiety disorders [here are some articles on the subject]); and from the Buddhist perspective, there is such a thing as right Mindfulness (and, for what it’s worth, also right intention and right concentration). A couple days ago, as I was walking to work, I started feeling a slight raise in anxiety (this tends to happen frequently to me in the morning), and immediately started thinking about the various Mindfulness and breathing techniques I could use to start to bring me down from the anxiety. I was, effectively, using Mindfulness as a cure for the anxiety. Now, according to the pure Buddhist approach, this isn’t the definition of right Mindfulness, as right Mindfulness is Mindfulness for the sake of, well, being Mindful. Here is the subtle point: being Mindful for the sake of curing self isn’t Mindfulness, it just isn’t. In essence, the tactics are sound, (I’m following through the motions accurately), but the reasoning is flawed.
How so?
Because trying to save or cure or protect or preserve any definition or notion of me or mine or I is wrought with difficulties and trap doors. Self is a fluid, dynamic, transitory process of emotions and thoughts; not a stable, constant, and easily-identifiable thing in and of itself. To hitch your motivation on trying to preserve or keep “me” safe is like trying to tie your boat to the water itself in lieu of the dock; no matter how hard you try, the first wind that comes along will blow you further out to sea. The very attempt at preserving “myself” is flawed, and yet – in every single attempt I’ve made through most of my life – the tactics, tools and training I’ve applied has been for just that: me.
“I hate this feeling – I had better start practicing some guided imagery to keep me from feeling it.”
“I am getting anxious, I will start doing some breathing techniques to keep myself from feeling bad.”
“I feel like I might have a disease, I should use some rational self talk to convince myself otherwise.”
But me – I – the very thing I’m trying to protect, will just as quickly shift directions and start projecting or exhibiting something else immediately after whatever rational thought has been made, or feeling has been stopped, or anxiety has been prevented. I’m trying to fill a bucket with a hole in it – there is no end to this game. I’m starting to see – in a very real and solid sense – how many of the most fundamental of Buddhist thoughts are not only accurate, but quite possibly a very valid answer. Gautama Buddha was no dummy. In a way, this is exactly what Buddhists mean when they refer to being trapped in Samsara.
There is an English word for what I mean when I use the word motivation (and it’s probably a bit more strict), and that is conation:
“One of the three aspects of the mind, in particular dealing with "willing and desiring", the others being cognition (awareness) and affection (feeling or emotion). They may work as a whole, but any one may dominate any mental process”
So it’s not just enough to want to get better, nor is it enough to be willing or to desire to get better, but the secret sauce – if you will – is in the intent, the very reasoning behind why you want to get better or, to steal Buddhist parlance, in possessing right intent.
So what is the right intent? I’m exploring and learning what that is and how to maintain focus on it; that is part of my journey. I think that might be part of the fogginess: it’s going to be different for different people, possibly – but ultimately selfishness (as was/is my motivation to date) is a dangerous and probably hopeless cause, and it is the primary focus of most therapy. Think about it. They don’t call it self-help for shits and giggles. If your compass for progress treats “me” as North, you’ll quickly find yourself chasing tail for the remainder of your life.
And what of focus or concentration? Bad habits die hard, and the very neurotic or destructive behaviors we engage in are habits just like any other; meaning, of course, they are hard to remove. The “good” habits – the ones which will, as Thich Nhat Hanh is known to say, “water the seeds of joy” are very infrequently watered, as it were. We don’t employ them because we, mindlessly, don’t engage in them. We offer them lip service, but we do not actually engage in them to enact change. It’s like reading a mathematics textbook without actually doing any of the homework – you will probably pick up some terminology, but you’ll probably fail the exam miserably.
And we’re failing the exam.
So, if you stand back for a moment and kind of see the web I’ve been spinning, you’ll see how these two things: intent and concentration, can come together and mix themselves to produce a consistent flow of energy to cause change. That is, if we can maintain a valid intent and strong enough concentration to keep them around.
More to come, as I’m feeling very curious about these thoughts…
Excellent post! As someone who practices Buddhism, and mindfulness in particular, and who experiences (I try not to think of it as "suffers from") anxiety, I can appreciate this topic very much. I love the metaphor of trying to dock a boat to the ocean itself--that's awesome!
ReplyDeleteI think a common impulse in Buddhist practice is to use it as a means to improve ourselves. Barry Magid, a trained psychotherapist, wrote a great book about this called, "Ending the Pursuit of Happiness." He calls this type of practice curative fantasies--the coopting of practice to make us calmer, happier, or whatever "-er" word works for us. And it just doesn't work; rather, it turns our practice into a project of self-improvement. But, judging by your post, you already got all that.
As you said, simply being mindful--open, empty, ungrasping, and observant to the transient nature of all experience--is the heart of the practice.
On a personal note, I'm really psyched that you started a blog. Keep at it!