Bringing Attention Into Action

One of the things I’ve always appreciated about Ken’s way of teaching is how he brings practice straight into ordinary life. He doesn’t separate meditation from the unsettling situations we encounter daily; he gives instructions for working with them directly. These four steps are a good example. They’re simple, practical, and grounded in how things actually unfold: get clear on what’s happening, connect with the people involved, see what needs to be done, understand the terrain, and keep going.

In other talks he calls them the four steps of standing up.

These steps help me shift attention from spinning stories back to the demands of the moment. They’re not techniques so much as reminders of how to meet life without getting lost in reactivity.

From Eightfold Path 2

When you're in a situation and it doesn't really matter what, and things aren't going the way that you want or expect, four things:

First, get the facts. Find out what is actually going on.

Our tendency is to make up stories about it. And whenever there's something happening which we don't understand what's really going on, we make up a story. And it's astonishing how quickly we make up that story. And there's a very important characteristic of that story; we're always the hero of it, which makes it suspect right there. So rather than make up a story, get the facts—what's actually happening.

Second, rather than react emotionally, and particularly defensively or judgmentally, which is what we usually do, empathize and understand with the other people.

Find out what they're experiencing and try to understand that. And so that makes an emotional connection, which really changes things.

Third, focus on what needs to be done, not on what isn't going right.

Focus on what needs to be done. As one person says: "Stop messing about with the past and look to the future." I put this in terms of: "Focus on the direction of the present." What actually needs to happen here to make this work?

And be strategic. You may think it should happen a certain way but that way may not work in this situation. So you've got to figure out what will actually work.

Often when people are consulting with me about problems they're facing, I'll make a suggestion and they say, "Well, we can't do that because of this," and "We can't do that because of that," and "I can't do that because of this." And their tendency is to regard all of this as obstacles. What they're actually describing is the territory in which they are living at that point. And these are things that have to be negotiated and worked around but they aren't actually obstacles unless you regard them as an obstacle. And I've found that shift in perspective is very helpful to people.

Fourth, whatever happens, receive it and keep going.

One of my favorite quotations is from Churchill: “When you're going through hell, keep going.” Certainly applicable in Britain in the Second World War.

Related posts

• Recognising Reactivity in Real Time
• Things Aren’t What They Seem

How Meaning Reveals Itself

“Body like a mountain” invites you to feel what effortless sitting is actually like. When I let the words sink in without trying to analyse them, the body knows what to do. The meaning of the metaphor reveals itself in practice.

Ken uses metaphors because they help us bypass the urge to figure things out, and take us straight into direct experience. That emphasis on direct experience is a hallmark of his approach.

From Pointing Out Instructions 3

Ken: A lot of instruction in Buddhism is expressed in mythic language. I'll give you one example. It happens to be a mahamudra instruction—I thought I'd keep it on topic.

Body like a mountain,

Breath like the wind,

Mind like the sky.

Now, I think this is quite a good example. If I say body like a mountain, what do most of you think of immediately?

Student: Rigid.

Ken: Yeah. Okay, now what's it's like meditating like that?

Student: Tiring

Ken: Does it work? No. So, is this what it means?

Student: No.

Ken: No. So, what does it mean? Nick?

Nick: You become very stable.

Ken: How do you become very stable? Can you just say "I'm going to be stable."? Does that work?

Nick: You relax your body.

Ken: What does that have to do with a mountain?

Nick: Mountains don't make any effort to sit there like that.

Ken: Exactly. Say it again loudly.

Nick: Sorry. I said mountains don't make any effort to sit like that.

Ken: Yeah. So this phrase—body like a mountain—means to sit without any effort whatsoever. And you come at this by actually just taking it in and letting it speak to you, not trying to analyse it and figure out exactly what it means, etc., etc. Okay.

This is the language of poetry. And it's similar things with

Breath like the wind,

Mind like the sky.

So, in what we work with in these days that we're here together let the instructions sit in you. Let them reveal their meaning. You'll know when they've revealed their meaning by what happens in your practice.

Related posts

• Three Doors in Practice
• Practice Intensely, With Little Fanfare

A Simplicity That Costs Everything

There’s a passage in A Trackless Path 1 that I keep returning to. Ken talks about “the price” of practice—not as something heroic, but as the ordinary, human cost of letting illusions fall apart. Certainties dissolve, familiar motivations lose their grip, and the usual strategies for holding a self together stop working. Practice doesn’t polish us; it undoes us.

I appreciate the way Ken describes awakening without framing it as an achievement. Words like peace, presence, or simplicity aren’t goals. They’re the textures or flavours of experience when the tension of duality relaxes and the machinery of “someone” starts to unwind.

This may be why Buddhism felt like home from the beginning. There was a kind of care in not letting anything—even open, clear, awareness—harden into an anchor. It felt unsettling yet strangely honest. Ken’s sensibility reflects that: a willingness to lose identity and certainty, to walk through unknowing, to let curiosity undo the familiar life. He quotes Eliot: “A moment of complete simplicity which costs not less than everything.”

From A Trackless Path 1-7

Julia: Could you talk a little bit about the price in worldly terms of doing this. Because you’ve talked about the aloneness of finding your own path. But you haven’t talked about the consequences of it for the life of work and relationships which can change very dramatically as a result.

Ken: Well. I think one has to talk about both the price and the rewards. You’ve heard me tell this one before.

A group of people came to a Sufi and said we’d like to study with you. And he said, “Are you willing to give up pride and be humble?” And they said, “Yes!” “Are you willing to experience difficulty and not seek comfort?” And they said, “Yes!” And he asked them. “Are you willing to serve and not lead?” They said, “Yes!” He said, “Very well. Next Tuesday I’m meeting with a group of students who studied with me for three years. Please come.” He told them where to come.

That Tuesday evening this group of people came in and there was a group of students sitting there. And the Sufi said, “Sit over here.”

And he turned to his students, the ones who had been studying with him for three years. And said, “How many of you would rather be proud than humble?” And they all stood up. “How many of you would rather have comfort than difficulty?” And they all stood up. “How many of you would rather lead than serve?” And they all stood up.

So he turned to this new group and said, “So you see that the results of studying with me will be that you are worse than you are now. Please think about this. And we can talk again.”

When we set out on such a path, we have no idea where it will lead. I remember a meeting I had with Julia and a couple of other women—Martha and Michelle—in my old office. And I think it was Michelle said, “And what do you do?” And Julia said, “I’m not working right now.” And Martha said, “Yeah, I’m working.” And Michelle just looked at her and said, “Oh, you haven’t been studying very long with Ken yet. Another couple of years and you’ll be unemployed.” You remember that? [Laughter]

Julia: I remember that.

Ken: And Martha went [makes gasping sound]. Couple of years later she was unemployed. So because as one begins to explore this curiosity that we have about this experience we call life, all kinds of things are called into question. Actually, everything is called into question! [Laughter]

Towards the end of Four Quartets T.S. Eliot writes,

"A moment of complete simplicity which costs not less than everything."

So things are called into question. And this starts actually quite early. Many of you have heard me talk about the eight worldly concerns: happiness and unhappiness, gain and loss, fame and obscurity, respect and disdain. These are what the conventional life is based on. We seek happiness, wealth, gain, a certain amount of fame or renown, certainly respect. Try to avoid the others. And if we turn our back on that, everybody thinks we’re crazy. But you may very well find that as these things come into question or as you come to certain understandings that what is meaningful to everybody else has little meaning maybe even no meaning to you.

And what I often find is how extraordinarily hard some people become around money. That when the topic of money comes in this perfectly reasonable, nice person becomes somebody else. That’s what’s really important in their lives. And they will sacrifice friendships and things for that. Which is completely bizarre as far as I’m concerned because money is always replaceable. Friendships aren’t.

So, we begin to move. And this changes our relationships with people. And we’ve already talked in other evenings about how when things change inside we begin to relate to people differently. And for some people, they can’t accept the change in relationship and those relationships fall away. And they’re replaced by other relationships. Maybe not as many of them but they are often replaced by other relationships. And they’re different in quality and tone and dynamic.

But through this process there can be a consistent sense of loss. I think this is what Julia was referring to in terms of price. Is that right?

Julia: Yes.

Ken: And it can do what I was talking about in relationship with betrayal. It’s the grief we experience when we lose an illusion. You know, we live that and it was so fine. But now we see it’s not like that and there’s grief in that. There’s a process of separation which is what grief is about.

But I think it’s only fair to say that those prices are half of it. The other half of it is that we move into a more complete relationship with this experience we call life. And whether you call it a sense of wholeness or purpose or direction or understanding or congruence—that’s also part of the picture. It’s not necessarily a nice neat process—if you let this go this comes. It’s often if you let this go you wander around for a long time wondering what the hell is going on. And then you begin, “Oh, this is actually what I was looking for. I just didn’t recognize it.”

But one has to be willing to accept and live in this kind of uncertainty and change and, in many cases, unknowing. Rilke, in Letters to a Young Poet says,

“Only be a poet if you have to be a poet. If you have any other choice in your life, take it.”

Somebody I was meeting with quite recently said the same thing about photography to me. It applies to a lot of areas. And basically I say the same thing to people, “Only travel this path if you have to.”

There’s a teacher in Toronto who’s quite old now, Lama Karma Thinley, who’s always been a bit quirky. Which is one of the things I liked about him. When he first came to Toronto which was back in the ’70s, people would go to India and they would come back full of enthusiasm saying I took refuge with so and so, etc. And Lama Karma Thinley would go, “Oh. I’m so sorry!” [Laughter] At first it was just like, “What?” And Lama Karma Thinley would, “Maybe it’s not too late.” And of course the people were just like “What!” So, does this speak to what you were—

Julia: So, perhaps better not to start probably—

Ken: It’s a Tibetan expression, you know, “Perhaps better not to start. Once started, better to finish.” Well, things don’t necessarily work out on the path. And I know because I’ve seen any number of people really damaged, quite a few corpses, etc. Many colleagues for whom that’s been the case.

At the same time, if you have this curiosity and you pursue it, it’s unlikely whatever happens that you’ll regret it. The opposite is not true. And, as I’ve said, it’s very much about coming to terms with our experience. And we can put that in all kinds of language. For some people, they seek freedom. For some people, awakening. For some people, presence. For some people, knowing of some form. Some people, peace.

There are other words that are used to describe it. One I’m thinking of is union. But that’s a metaphor. It’s a metaphor to describe a certain experience. What we are looking for is a way of experiencing our lives which fundamentally leaves us at peace.

Now a lot of colleagues of mine really take issue with me for making that statement. But for some of you whom I know through our conversations have experienced presence without any sense of subject or object. There is in that experience a complete peace. You are free of the tension of duality. And that’s why I use that terminology. It’s actually not about looking for meaning or purpose because those are relatively subtle forms of identity.

I go back to something that I mentioned at the beginning of the retreat. I’ve mentioned many times because I find this wording very helpful. That curiosity that I’ve been speaking about this evening often is experienced as a small, stammering voice that is asking somewhat inconvenient questions. And if you choose this path then you learn to listen deeply so you can hear that voice. And that’s no simple matter.

Apprentice Buddhas

Ken talks about waking up as something we can actually do. In this passage, his description of the five-path map points directly to experience: developing an intention, experiencing some insights, waking up, seeing clearly, and learning how to live from that seeing in the midst of ordinary life.

I'm struck by how simply he speaks about bodhisattvas and buddhas. A bodhisattva understands the nature of experience directly but hasn’t yet learned to live every moment from that view. For a buddha, that view has permeated the whole of life.

Ken's description of buddhas and bodhisattvas cuts through idealisations about spiritual life. He shifts the focus from goal seeking to developing capacity to experience everything that arises. This passage stays with me because it reminds me that integration is an ongoing process and that living awake is possible.

From Then and Now 7

Raquel: What’s the difference between buddhas and bodhisattvas?

Ken: Ah okay, that's a good point. Very loosely speaking bodhisattvas are apprentice buddhas. To make it a little more refined, in all traditions of Buddhism there’s a map of spiritual progress known as the five paths. There’s the path of accumulation, path of accommodation, path of seeing, path of practice and path of no practice. And in the path of accumulation, you’re developing, generating the goodness and well being which lays the foundation for spiritual understanding. And there’s a long exposition way at the end of this book on the five paths, a sufficiently detailed one. The path of accommodation is where you begin to get some intimation of what experience is actually like—the emptiness and so forth and so there’s a process of accommodation to that. The path of seeing is where you actually wake up. And when you wake up you have a certain experience of being awake and present, but it’s not fully integrated in your life. So the path of practice is where you’re working at integrating all aspects of experience into this seeing that’s been uncovered, and the path of no practice is when that process is complete.

You become, officially, a bodhisattva when you enter the path of seeing. That is you understand the nature of experience directly, and then you go through all the stages of a bodhisattva until you get to the path of no practice, which is equivalent of buddhahood. So from this map, what the Buddha represents is the way of experiencing things in which you can experience all aspects of experience awake and present, which means you can experience everything that arises. Remember we talked about this, developing the ability to experience everything. The understanding and seeing of a bodhisattva and a buddha are the same; the degree in which it has permeated all experience is different. Okay so that’s why I say bodhisattvas are buddhas in training.

Related posts

• Every Reactive Pattern Has Two Poles
• Three Doors in Practice

Anger As Intel

For much of my life anger arose when I felt cornered. In the passage below Ken makes the point that anger can signal a boundary violation, bringing a clarity I didn’t have when I was young. Anger became the force that said, “This is too much,” when I had no other way to say it.

Growing up, I learned two ways of coping: disappearing by hiding or running away, or escalating bad behaviour even though I knew it would lead to dire consequences. They looked like opposites, but both came from the same place: no safety, no protection, and a profound sense of powerlessness. Hiding delayed the impact. Escalation was the refusal to capitulate. It was the limited agency I had.

Perhaps this is why I feel uncomfortable with so-called “righteous anger.” It often feels a step removed from what is actually happening inside. Ken’s conversation with a student about righteous anger helped me understand that anger is easily justified as clarity or moral certainty when it is really a way of avoiding helplessness or hurt. When someone insists their anger is principled, it feels like a cover for the vulnerability underneath. It’s another way of fighting experience rather than meeting it.

In this passage from Ken's series on the 37 Practices of a Bodhisattva he explains that anger often arises when we can’t address what’s happening. This directly echoes my experience. When an adult crossed a line, my childhood anger showed up as “bad” behaviour—a way of asserting that I had no way to stop something intolerable. I can also see now that the reactions of my caregivers came from their own versions of righteous anger.

That old structure has been incredibly persistent in my adult life. Anger arises quickly when something resonates with the crossing of an old line. Now, when a strong sense of “no,” a sense of "enemy"comes up, I ask questions: "What experience am I fighting? What am I not wanting to feel? What feels too much?" When I can meet the anger this way it becomes intel rather than erupting as a reaction.

From 37 Practices of a Bodhisattva 8

Kate: I just want to clarify for myself that what it seems to me is that anger is always caused by opposing experience or fighting experience. So, therefore, anger is always a reactive pattern?

Ken: Yes. Anger is a reactive pattern, because in anger you see the object of anger as something other, and there may be a very, very good reason for it. Now at the Vajrayana level, there’s another way of looking at it, and that is that anger is the intelligence of the universe telling you that a boundary has been violated. And so now you can look: where is the boundary being violated? And then you can seek to address that in the appropriate way. The comparable one for desire is that desire is the intelligence of the universe telling you that a connection has been broken. Suddenly, I want that. When the connection’s there, there isn’t any sense of desire. There’s just a flow of energy and response. But when it’s broken, then there’s that wanting.

Student: Along the lines of what Kate just said, isn’t there such a thing as righteous anger? [Ken laughs] It seems that I’ve read about that in some of my readings, an anger that comes up in response to the mistreatment of other beings, for example.

Ken: Well, you see other beings being mistreated, other people, whatever. What’s the first thing you feel?

Student: Compassion.

Ken: Right. First thing you feel is compassion. Now, when does the anger arise? This is important.

Student: Doesn’t it come up when you find an opportunity to deal with what’s causing the suffering?

Ken: I would say it arises when you realize in your position you can’t do anything about the cause of the suffering, so you now fall out of the compassion into anger. And then you try to defend it by calling it righteous anger.

There was a person down in Orange County back in the early 90s. And he was expressing his anger at the homeless people. And he was training with me in taking and sending at the time. So, he was experiencing a bit of cognitive dissonance, shall we say. I said, “Why are you angry with the homeless? They are the products of the system. If you want to help the homeless, why don’t you call the mayor? You’ve got influence here, and put pressure on him.” But moving from anger at the homeless—because they were disturbing his sense of what his community should look like—to actually taking action was way too big a step for him.

And so anger comes up because you feel impotent and you’re trying to control the situation. And then it’s defended as righteous anger, which is used as a justification for violence. It’s not ever. And once you go down that road, you’re going down the road of fundamentalism, terrorism, taking what is essentially compassion, turning it into an ideology where now the ends justify the means. And compassion goes out the window, and you’re just trying to make the world conform to how you think it should be. Does this make sense to you? Is that too strong?

Related posts:
Every Reactive Pattern Has Two Poles
Recognising Reactivity in Real Time – Part 1

Every reactive pattern has two poles

I used to think my reactive patterns had a single, recognisable shape, but Ken’s description of patterns having two poles, expressive and receptive, reveals this landscape to be much more fluid. Instead of one behaviour repeating, a pattern oscillates between opposites that look different on the surface, but are actually two expressions of a single dynamic.

A pattern that ran my life for years was staying invisible to avoid conflict. I can see with hindsight that I tended to take the receptive pole as “me” and was blindsided when the expressive pole suddenly erupted. Staying invisible would build pressure until the bottled-up resentments and anger exploded into rage. Ken’s point is that the flip is the pattern reversing direction, like a train running back and forth on the same track. Seeing this has been uncomfortable, but also clarifying.

His key instruction—to hold both poles in attention at the same time—feels like a gentle undoing. I abandoned trying to fix or reject my behaviour, and started hanging out with the whole mess: the urge to hide and the urge to lash out. With both held in awareness, the emotional charge powering this pattern became more visible, and the automatic flip gradually lost momentum.

This isn’t easy work, but it makes reactive patterns feel less solid and more like currents of energy shaped by old fears. When awareness is steady enough to hold both poles of a reaction, more choice becomes available and the pattern itself starts to dissolve.

From Mind Training in Seven Points 15

Every pattern has two poles, which I choose to call expressive and receptive. Active and passive aren’t quite precise enough. The very easy one you see is the bully/coward. The bully is the expressive and the coward is the receptive. Now, bully isn’t a pattern; coward isn’t a pattern. The pattern is bully/coward.

And when you push on a bully and make it impossible for him to be a bully, then he becomes a coward. And when a coward encounters a situation where cowardice doesn’t work, he flips into bully. Which is one of the reasons why some of the weakest people—weak inside—become the most vicious torturers.

So, most of us, in a reactive pattern, identify primarily with either the expressive or the receptive pole. So, we often think we’re just the one side. But as you begin to work on, say the expressive pole, and it becomes more and more difficult for you to function in it, then you will flip and start behaving in exactly the opposite way. And what’s important to understand here is the pattern hasn’t disappeared, you’ve just picked up the train and reversed it. It’s running on the same track.

So, when you start seeing this flip, now you’ve gotta work on the other side. And the best way to do this is to hold the expressive and the receptive in attention at the same time. By doing that you will bring attention to the emotional issue that is driving the pattern as a whole and the split into these two forms of expression.

Related posts:
Recognising Reactivity in Real Time – Part 1
Anger As Intel

Recognising Reactivity in Real Time - Part 2

In Awakening From Belief Ken explains that reactive patterns always start with an emotional core—something we are unwilling to feel. They exists to make sure attention cannot land on the emotional core for more than an instant. Instead, attention is diverted into thoughts, impulses, and behaviours that feel necessary and justified. Once activated, reactive patterns begin producing conditions that perpetuate themselves. You don’t see the emotional core; you see the world distorted through the pattern. He stresses that reactive patterns always feel like “me,” appearing as personal truths. A few examples:

Everyone is judging me. If the emotional core is shame, even neutral expressions can feel sharply evaluative. The sense of being criticised arises not from others but from the fear of being exposed.

No one ever supports me. If the emotional core is abandonment, you may not register support when it’s offered. The pattern filters out moments of connection, leaving only the sense of being alone.

This is going to fall apart. If the emotional core is fear, you may find yourself scanning for signs of danger or instability. Even small changes can feel like major threats.

I need to fix this immediately. If the emotional core is helplessness, the urgency of a situation may become exaggerated. Everything feels like an emergency.

Ken notes that the emotional core of a pattern is always simple—fear, shame, abandonment, loss, inadequacy—but the patterns around the core can be enormously complex and multi-layered. They can include emotions, behaviours, and also physical tensions, automatic impulses, habitual stories, identity structures, perceptual distortions, and worldviews. He points out that people often try to work with the complexity—analysing, fixing, and improving—instead of addressing the core.

I've noticed that a reactive pattern can produce many different distortions, and that it can take years, decades, to develop enough capacity in attention to fully experience a heavily sealed-off emotional core. Life events trigger reactions that reveal more and more layers. Over time I’ve come to see that each layer functions as a kind of protective shell, formed around something I once didn’t have the capacity to feel. As capacity grows, life exposes the next layer. There’s something strangely trustworthy about this process, but it's not smooth or predictable, and when a new layer shows up and asks to be met, it can feel explosive in its immediacy—abrupt and destabilising.

In the following passage, Ken offers four reliable ways to recognise reactive patterns, and later on in the session he talks about the particular relevance of these for core patterns that are heavily protected from awareness:

From Awakening from Belief 11

Ken: Now, the first thing is to recognize reactive pattern. And we’ve talked about various ways to do that. The main one is when what you experience as result is consistently different from your intention, that usually indicates that there’s a reactive pattern operating somewhere in the mix. But there are other ways. One of my favorites is: What you don’t notice; what you don’t question; what you can’t laugh about.

Student: Once more, Ken.

Ken: What you don’t notice; what you don’t question; what you don’t laugh about. Queen Victoria’s: “We are not amused.” [Laughter]

Student: I think she had a very strong identity.

Ken: Only just a little. So, those are very reliable. Now, of course, what we don’t notice, you’re going to depend on somebody else, your teacher or friend, your spouse, to point out to you. And that’s very helpful. But you can observe what you don’t question. This is where your beliefs are, and your assumptions about life …

Related posts:
Recognising Reactivity in Real Time – Part 1
Every Reactive Pattern Has Two Poles

Recognising Reactivity in Real Time - Part 1

In this passage Ken describes one of several ways to recognise a reactive pattern. A hallmark of reactivity is an insistence on black-and-white inflexibility: “I want it this way—can’t have it that way.” This can show up as a demand for comfort or a refusal to feel discomfort. Behind those hard edges sit beliefs that quietly organise experience without ever announcing themselves.

A sense of shock arose when I first encountered Ken’s "indicators" of reactivity. I realised how pervasive reactive patterns were. Refrains of “can’t have this, must have that” were running much of my life, shaping behaviour in a multitude of ways. At the time, I believed the psychological explanation that my reactive patterns stemmed from a disorganised attachment style shaped by adverse childhood experiences. But as I took in more of what Ken presents in Karma: Awakening From Belief, I began to notice complexity in how patterns were layered. Eventually, I began to view psychological explanations of recurrent, mindless, mechanical behaviours as useful concepts rather than truths.

A next step was taking in Ken’s reminder that the point isn’t to eliminate the thoughts, feelings, and sensations that arise with beliefs and reactivity, but to notice them and hold them gently in attention, especially the ones that had already hardened. In recognising those silent “musts” and “can’ts,” something loosens. Space opens, and in that space lies the possibility of freedom from the same old patterns.

From Karma: Awakening from Belief 7

Also see Wake Up To Your Life, chapter 5

Ken: Several people have asked how you recognize a reactive pattern. Well, one of the features of a reactive pattern is, as I mentioned, that they're mechanical in nature. What's one of the characteristics of a mechanical system?

Student: No variation.

Ken: No variation. It just runs one way. So, a way to identify a reactive pattern—and it's very useful to do this—is, "Must be this way, can't be that. Have to have this, can't have that. Must have this, can't have that." Any time you have that going in you, chances are you're running a reactive pattern. We run into this all the time. The retreat that I did recently in Santa Fe, there was a little confusion the first day, and there was no coffee at breakfast. [Laughter]

Student: Not a good move.

Student: Ah, love it.

Ken: See, there we are, right there. "Must be this way, can't have that."

A nobleman once asked a dervish, "I've been a student of the path for many years but I feel I have gained no understanding at all." And the dervish replied, "That is because you are too arrogant." And the nobleman said, "If you weren't a holy man I would take offense at that remark; however, I am willing to listen. I will do whatever you say." And the dervish replied, "The situation is beyond hope. You will not do what I say, and so you cannot learn anything on this path." And the nobleman said, "I don't accept that. Give me your instruction." And the dervish said, "I want you to take off your fine clothes, put on some rags, wear a horse's feedbag full of oats in front of you and a sign saying 'Kick me' on the back." "I can't do that." "Exactly," said the dervish, "so you cannot learn."

We run into this all the time. And when you hear yourself say—and we have many ways of saying it: "Has to be this way." Some of the examples that were given in earlier conversations: "Have to be peaceful, can't have conflict." Reactive pattern. "It's against the rules." Other people, their conversations: "Can't be peaceful, have to be conflict." Same thing. It's just the reactive pattern running in a different direction. So anytime you run into that kind of inflexibility—black and white, this way or that—you're dealing with a reactive pattern.

Related posts:
Recognising Reactivity in Real Time – Part 2
Every Reactive Pattern Has Two Poles

Practice Intensely With Little Fanfare

This exchange between Ralph and Ken touches a dilemma I’ve navigated for nearly forty years—how spiritual practice affects a intimate relationship when only one partner is drawn to it. My first teacher advised me to practice seriously but keep silent about it. Here, Ken echoes her words with a line from the mind training teachings: practice intensely with little fanfare.

Although I rarely spoke about it, it was obvious I was spending time with spiritual teachers and practicing meditation, and that was enough to create unease at home. I sensed that my partner found this unsettling, perhaps even threatening. He struggled to understand how something he could not relate to could matter so deeply to me. While I never expected him to share this calling, my behaviour made it evident that his criticism and scepticism didn't affect my commitment.

Fortunately, over time, the tension dissolved. The pejorative remarks have faded, and although the incomprehension and a seeming lack of curiosity remain, my partner has come to accept that Buddhist practice is central to my life. Perhpas he noticed that his own deep interests absorb him in the same way that study and practice do for me. We’ve found a way to attend to what matters deeply to each of us, without expecting or needing the other to participate or even to understand.

From A Trackless Path II – 5

Ralph: I’ve always found it helpful to look at my practice using the three stands of willingness, knowledge, capacity, and the one that I’ve had the hardest time with by far has always been willingness.

Ken: Oh!

Ralph: Because I find the practice is isolating. I thought that Sophie’s question about how do you introduce the concepts to people who haven’t had our experience, is a very germane one for me because I went back into a household that had no direct experience and was very threatened by it. It caused a lot of fear to arise. And so to me, I think as we go down into this practice, there are a lot of personal sacrifices. It’s a very difficult practice for other people who are close to you to adopt. And so I wanted to ask the question about your experience with that and how somebody deals with people that get hurt by it.

Ken: Well, several things come to mind with that question, Ralph. In no particular order the first thing that came to mind was, a woman at a workshop that I did in the late 80s in Portland. And there were 20 people, a relatively small number, so I was able to ask everybody at the beginning why they were here. And everybody went around—this was second or third to the last person—to respond to this. And she said, “My husband has practiced Zen for the last 25 years. He’s never talked to me about his practice. He’s never suggested that I should do any kind of practice myself. He just gets up in the morning and meditates. But when I left to come here, there was a little smile on his face.” And I just found it so touching because there was such maturity in this relationship.

And so the second thing that came to mind was one of the mind training teachings: practice intensely with little fanfare. We do this practice, and as Kongtrul points out again and again in The Seven Points of Mind Training, The Great Path of Awakening, we’re doing it for ourselves. We make use of bodhicitta and compassion, but we’re the ones who benefit from it. And he goes on to say, “Don’t expect thanks for doing this.” Don’t expect a pat on the back. You’re the one who benefits from this. But I’ve always enjoyed, I really like that line, Practice intensely with little fanfare. In other words, don’t make your practice public. Don’t impose it on other people. There is no need to.

And yes, you’re quite right. One of the things I’ve worked with many people on is that in a couple relationship, any couple relationship, when one person gets involved in a practice and the other person doesn’t, for the person who doesn’t it feels like the other person is having an affair.

Ralph: Right.

Ken: And there’s therefore a responsibility on the part of the person who is practicing to honor the relationship and not be the source of anxiety and fear. Now I had a wonderful time with a person who’s now a very good friend, and he’s been extraordinarily helpful to me in my own life, but he started off as a student. And he was a Fox News Republican when he started with me. Very, very aggressive, hard driving business guy. But there was one great thing about him. If I said, “Do this,” he just did it. And the twelve, fourteen years I worked with him I don’t think he missed more than two days of meditation. “You said to do that, okay, I meditate a half hour every day. That’s it.” Travel, doesn’t make any difference, he just did it. So there are certain good qualities there. But when he got involved with me, his wife just went straight through the roof. And like many people, and this is what we tend to do. When we get involved in something such as practice, it’s tremendously important to us and we want to share that with people who are close to us. One word of advice, don’t. Because they don’t understand for the same reasons that they don’t have the experience, it’s not there. Anyway, he wanted to talk to his wife about it and from her point of view, he had just gotten involved in a cult and it was six of one whether their marriage was going to last or not. That was her experience.

Ralph: Sometimes early in your practice we’re not that wise.

Ken: I agree.

Ralph: My experience was it was taking my time away from the family to meditate at night, in particular when that would be a traditional time when we would be together.

Ken: Ato Rinpoche, who’s a wonderful teacher in England, he married in England and had a daughter, and he was very clear. Family always came first. If he was meditating and his daughter came up and needed attention, that was it [snaps fingers]. And this is what it means: practice intensely with little fanfare. You find a way of practicing so it isn’t an imposition on your family.

And in this case that I’m describing, about two years later, I received an invitation to this person’s 60th birthday party. And I was very surprised because the invitation came from his wife. So I went and hung around, chatted with people, and then as I was leaving I said goodbye to him and then went to say goodbye to her. And she just pulled me aside and said, “Ken, you know I’m never going to meditate, but I have benefited from it.” [Laughter] And this is the result of practicing intensely with little fanfare. There’s another—I remember it was in the Shambhala Sun years and years ago—that kids were interviewed about their parents practicing. And one young girl said it all, “My daddy is a better daddy when he practices.”

Ralph: I remember a story you told, I think, about a young lady who goes toward Buddhism from a Roman Catholic family, and her family is perplexed by this, and she just decides to give up the practice and go home. And she writes back to her instructor and says, “They sure hate me when I’m a Buddhist and they sure like me when I act like the Buddha.” [Ken laughs]

Ken: Yeah, that’s not my story, so thank you. I’ll add that. So yes, I was young and stupid. Most of us were young and stupid, and so, people do get hurt by it, you’re quite right. But my advice is, yes, take your practice seriously, but practice it in a way in which it is not an imposition on other people, and that will require some dedication and some effort.

Now the other side of your question is also very relevant. I think this is somewhat true of the nature of a pluralistic society as opposed to other societies where everybody is a Buddhist or everybody is this or everybody is that. As one develops a relationship with attention and awareness and compassion, or any of a number of themes in Buddhism, it’s human nature that you want to talk about it with somebody. That would be really nice. And it can be difficult to find people with whom to have those conversations. And so yes, there is a loneliness that can arise. That’s part of the practice. If you live in a place like the Bay area, there’s much less of that because there are Buddhists coming out of the woodwork, Buddhist teachers coming out of the woodwork. But when I first came to Los Angeles there was relatively little Buddhist activity. There’s far, far more now, and it’s been that way in town after town in America that people have found themselves the only practicing Buddhist within 500 miles or something. And that has changed very significantly. It is good to find people with whom you can have those kinds of conversations. The Internet makes it much easier than it used to be to do that. But it is an aspect of practice that most of us have to deal with.

Related posts:
Getting Black and Blue: Learning to Rest in Awareness
Letting Go of More and More

Getting Black and Blue: Learning to Rest in Awareness

In this passage Ken explains how to build the capacity to rest in being awake—to stay present with whatever arises rather than trying to smooth it out. When he tells the story of The Princess and the Pea, he gives it a depth I’d never encountered before.

Hans Christian Andersen’s tale was a gentle satire, written by an outsider mocking the pretensions of the aristocracy that had once excluded him. Yet when I first heard it, I didn’t think of that at all. I saw myself in the princess—so sensitive, feeling everything so deeply. Ken’s teaching turned that sensitivity inside out: when you truly rest, you start to feel everything that keeps you from resting more deeply. Like the princess, you “get black and blue.” The discomfort isn’t a problem; it’s a gateway to awareness itself.

From Pointing Out Instructions

What has become clear to me over the years is that mahamudra, and all of the direct awareness practices, consist of making lots of relatively subtle effort to bring the mind—or attention, or you, whatever you want to say—into some form of presence and then resting. And the actual power of practice comes through resting, and the more completely you’re able to rest, the deeper and the more powerful your practice becomes. And that’s one of the reasons why I’m setting up a relatively unstructured schedule so that each of you can find, explore your own way of resting deeply. Now this resting doesn’t mean going to sleep. It means being able to rest and be awake but really rest in being awake.

Now how many of you know the story of The Princess and the Pea? Okay, anybody not familiar with that story? Well, it’s a fairy tale, I can’t remember all the details but a prince is looking for a princess to marry, and he’s told by a wise old woman that the only way to find out who a proper princess is, is to put a pea under a hundred mattresses. And so he invites one woman over after another and they sleep on this bed. Eventually one woman says, “I couldn’t sleep at all last night, just black and blue. That was the lumpiest bed I’ve ever had.” And so, this is the true princess because she can feel a pea under a hundred mattresses.

Now there are additional elements to that story but the main point here that I bring it up, is that when you actually rest then you feel all the stuff that prevents you from resting more deeply. And it just brings you right into connection with it. This is often not comfortable. You’re like the princess. You get black and blue.

The mahamudra practice and the direct awareness practice, in general, consists primarily of learning how to rest deeply at first with, and eventually in, one’s internal material. And this is found also in the Theravadan tradition in the Four Foundations of Mindfulness and particularly in the Full Awareness of Breathing Sutra in which the breath is used as a way of coming to that deep resting. But one has to be awake in this. That’s very very important. If the mind is drowsy, or dull, or unclear then you’re just sitting in a dull state, and that’s not helpful at all.

So, for this reason often when people are starting this kind of practice they’re encouraged to practice for relatively short periods so that the mind is constantly being woken up, it is fresh and awake. So even if you’re practicing in a group you may start doing this, just resting completely for like literally a minute or two and then relaxing and then resting again for a minute or two [unclear] so that constantly fresh and awake mind and learning how to rest in that. And you may find that it works better for you to practice for half an hour and then go for a walk for 10 or 15 minutes, come back and practice again for half an hour.

This is what I want you to explore. But the quality that I want you to keep exploring is this quality of resting. When you begin to find that quality of resting in sitting meditation, I want you to take that quality of resting into simple activities such as walking. How can you rest in the same way when walking or eating? We won’t have to worry about conversation but eventually you take it into that. And you actually learn to do everything in this clear awake resting mind. And that provides a very, very good basis for the looking quality, which is also what we’re going into with mahamudra.

Related posts:
Working With Pain
Seeing From the Inside: Evolution and Cycles

Meanness

Often when I feel angry, I also feel mean. It feels like a small, hard, inward twist. I used to think of anger and meanness as something dark and ugly, something I wanted to be freed from. Then I heard Ken’s exchange with Christy and the way he brought in Rumi’s Guest House. Anger and meanness can be just be visitors, to be met and offered tea rather than having a door slammed in their faces.

The word mean once meant “lowly” or “common,” from the Old English gemǣne, meaning “shared” or “in the middle.” Its roots point not to cruelty but to ordinariness, humility. Over time, the sense shifted toward “ignoble” and finally “unkind.” I find that drift telling—how what was once humble became despised. When I feel mean, perhaps I’m touching that very ground of smallness, the part of being human that wants to defend itself, to contract and push away. And when I can open to it, as Ken invites, something softens.

From A Trackless Path II 5

Christy: What do you do about meanness?

Ken: It’s very interesting you should ask this, Christy, because there’s a wonderful quote from Rumi right on this. And I actually put it in an article that I just submitted to Tricycle. But I haven't memorized the quote, so I have to look it up. [Pause] Here you are:

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning, a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness.

Some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all.

Ken: Do you want me to read it again?

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning, a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness.

Some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all.

Ken: Now, from the tone of your question, I’m inferring that you regard meanness as an enemy.

Christy: Well, in that it can certainly harm others, yes.

Ken: Okay. So, when’s the last time you can recall being mean? Or feeling mean?

Christy: Yesterday.

Ken: Okay, good. So just recall that right now, and there’s probably a hardening and a tightening in the body a little bit.

Christy: I could work through grief recalling it.

Ken: Because it’s an unpleasant memory?

Christy: Yeah.

Ken: Okay. I want you to do it anyway, please. And I want you to imagine welcoming the meanness with open arms and tell me what happens. [Pause]

Christy: It's a pattern.

Ken: Yes, but what happens? It’s very fast. Everybody can try this. Take anger or meanness or you can take greed too. And just open your heart to it. What happens? [Pause] Christy?

Student: It softens. Oh, I’m sorry.

Ken: I’m inviting you all to do it, but this is Christy’s.

Christy: It feels like a child.

Ken: Okay. And what do you do with that child?

Christy: Embrace it.

Ken: And then what happens?

Christy: [Pitch of voice rises considerably] Well! [Laughter]

Ken: Okay, you get my point. Now, like the hope and fear that we were discussing with Joan, this is a very, very demanding instruction. But it’s a very, very profound one. It’s exactly what Rumi’s talking about. You receive this and it can’t hold the way that it usually does. It holds when you resist it, when you regard it as, "No, this is not me, this is something other." But when you open your heart to it, then, as you described, it’s like a child. It’s something young that is very, very upset. And this is at the heart of Thich Nhat Hanh’s technique, which I’ve named Seeing From the Inside, where you’re holding just those feelings tenderly in attention.

Related posts:
Anger As Intel
Every Reactive Pattern Has Two Poles

Seeing From the Inside: Evolution and Cycles

Ken has encouraged me to use Seeing from the Inside, a five-step mindfulness practice in conjunction with the primary practice, and this has been very helpful, particularly when I'm not able to be present with strong emotional reactions.

Recently I've been listening once again to A Trackless Path II, an extraordinary, unstructured retreat, where Ken guided experienced meditators. I came across this advice to a student who asked about whether it was important to do the steps sequentially. Ken explained the five-step practice as an evolving progression that can have internal cycling between the steps.

It was somehow reassuring (rather than devastating) to hear that the capacity to experience difficult emotions fully may require years or decades of working with this practice. This matches my experience so far with deeply held core patterns—or core wounds—in psychological parlance.

From A Trackless Path II 2

It's called five-step mindfulness practice and there may be a better word in English rather than step. Because the idea of step is, “Okay, I take one step and then another step.” Or climbing a set of stairs, you move from one to two, to three, to four, to five.

This practice doesn’t really work that way. It’s that the steps evolve out of each other. So the first step is: “Breathing in I experience this reaction, breathing out I experience this reaction,” or pain, or difficulty, or problem. And as you do that, you naturally evolve into the second step, which is: “Breathing in I experience my reactions to this problem, breathing out I experience my reactions to this problem,” or whatever. And those reactions are, at the physical level how the body’s reacting; at the emotional level, all the different emotions that are coming up. At the cognitive level or mental level, all the stories and associations and memories and distractions that come up. And you just experience those.

And what’s happening there is one is moving into a fuller and fuller experience of the problem, the pain or the reaction, whatever. And in that you find yourself just experiencing all of that. And now rather than reacting to all of that, you’re just experiencing it, which is actually the start of the third step, which is, “Breathing in I experience calm in the reaction,” or in the problem. And that’s something that evolves out of opening to the experience of the problem itself and the reactions to it. You follow? So you may find yourself naturally moving into step three without actually deciding to.

Now, when you hit step three and particularly step four, as you rest in all of that stuff, you know, “Breathing in I experience calm in this reaction, breathing out I experience calm in this reaction,” that calm gradually evolves into ease or relaxation. So now you’re sitting with this problem and you’re actually relaxed. And as soon as we start to relax, then attention opens up, and we experience the problem more deeply. And often that puts us right back into step one again. But now we’re operating at a deeper level. So it continues to cycle around this way, and can over decades, actually. [Laughter]

It very well may be none of you are as screwed up as me, [laughter] but, you know, it really can be like that, because you’re able to experience something progressively deeper. And all of this time you think, “It’s just a mess.” But that’s the subjective experience, that it’s a mess. What is actually happening is one is actually experiencing more and more completely what’s really going on in you. And the more that we’re able to experience that, the less we have to react. So though we may feel like it’s a total mess inside, other people think, “How can you be so calm?” Because we’re dealing with all the reactions inside rather than spewing them out into the world. You follow?

And so through this, then step five isn’t something you decide, “Oh, I understand this now,” or “I’m going to understand this now.” It’s something that evolves out of being in that experience. And what happens is that you find a clarity in the experience. And the understanding of the experience, of the reaction or the problem, arises spontaneously out of the calmness and clarity. And you realize, “Oh, I was looking at it this way, but now I see it this way.” And one’s whole relationship with it will have shifted.

But none of the steps are something that you decide, “I’m going to do this now, I’m going to do this now, I’m going to do this now.” It’s not those kinds of steps. You start off just breathing in, experiencing it, and then you become aware of the physical reactions, you become aware of the emotional reactions, you become aware of the cognitive reactions.

Where people get tripped up a lot is that as they sit with the problem, their level of attention is often swept away by the stories that come up, they start spinning the stories. But once you start spinning the stories, you’re no longer experiencing the reaction or the problem. You’re in the world of the stories, and this is why I consistently emphasize coming to the body. And becoming clear about the physical reactions that are arising. Because that grounds you in your present experience and you don’t spin off in the stories. When you’re able to stay in the body and the emotions, then you can experience the stories as stories and not get distracted by them. They’re just stuff that is flying around all over the place.

Related posts:
Getting Black and Blue: Learning to Rest in Awareness
Working With Pain

Bird Teacher

In this passage Ken teaches students how to meet emotional reactions through the body, by feeling directly instead of analyzing.

To convey what he means by direct knowing, he shares an anecdote of Uchiyama Roshi’s about a nesting bird. How does a mother bird know when to turn her eggs? She doesn’t calculate or analyze, but simply turns the eggs when she feels too hot. This bird teacher reveals a way of knowing that isn’t the least bit conceptual—it’s embodied, responsive, and utterly natural.

Ken's approach blends precision with warmth and humour and the hallmark use of teaching stories. This particular story has stayed with me for years, and whenever I bring it to mind, something in me settles. Attention drops into the body, the mind quiets.

From Awakening from Belief 9

Go to your body. What’s your body saying? What’s your body experiencing? And you use that direct attention into the body. It grounds you. And from there, you have a basis in which to begin to experience emotional reaction without being completely consumed by it.

So, by going into the body first you establish a base of attention. Then you can start experiencing the reactive process itself—in Charlotte’s case the fear and the sorrow. And then all of the stories and associations, which usually have nothing to do with the situation.

So, you develop this ability and you become familiar with that process. And then you’re having a conversation with someone, and you can sense yourself getting a little on edge. [Finger snap] Go to your body. And you’ll be quite surprised what you’re gonna find there. And you go, “Wow!” and maybe it is like the body’s ready to charge at this person. “Oh. I’m angry.” Or, “I gotta get out of here.” And your body’s right; this is a dangerous situation. You go, “Oh, okay.”

Then you can start experiencing your emotional reactions. You may find that they’re quite different from the story that you’ve been telling yourself, and the stories that we use to manipulate everything to conform to our conditioning. Emotion always trumps reason. You can always rationalize anything. That’s why I say, go to the body. You stand in the body. Right there, you’re going to be more present.

And if you can experience your emotions and not act on them, then you have a chance of seeing what’s going on. It can be very useful once you notice that little feeling on edge, you’re grounded in the body, just to ask yourself, “What’s going on here?” That’s going to key your own investigation, and again I encourage you not to analyze. The understanding that we develop, or uncover, in Buddhist practice is a direct knowing. It’s a direct knowing. It is not a deductive knowing, which is always a product of the intellect. You can’t trust it.

Uchiyama Roshi talks about a bird sitting on her nest. And the bird sits on the eggs, and every now and then she gets up, turns all the eggs over with her beak, sits down again. Amazing. Now, this raises a question in science: how does she know when to turn the eggs over? What kind of biological clock mechanism is there? Well, after a few investigations, they discovered there was no biological clock. She just gets too hot. [Laughter] So she turns the eggs over, now she’s cool. The result is that the eggs are evenly warmed and they hatch properly.

That’s the kind of sensitivity that we develop here. You’re so in touch with your own experience, so totally in touch with your own experience, that by responding to that you actually respond to what is appropriate in the world.

Related posts:
The Violin Case
On Samadhi

Letting Go of More and More

In this particular passage, Ken lays out a practice progression—from easing reactivity to questioning the very existence of “I”—which I recognise as describing my own arc of practice. In the beginning, I treated meditation like emotional first aid: I hoped learning to pause, to breathe, to not get caught, would help me manage anger.

But with time, and lots of study, contemplation, and practice, the motivation for practice shifted from self-improvement to something deeper, and the ground under “me” has indeed begun to shift.

Practice exposes more and more layers of reactive patterns, but at the same time, the capacity to rest and look has also increases, as Ken describes here.

I’ve come to appreciate why he places such emphasis on cultivating stable attention. Here are a few of the many ways instability shows up:

• Attention keeps drifting off into thinking.
• Attention latches onto one sensation, thought, or feeling and becomes narrow or tense.
• Awareness becomes dull or fuzzy. There’s a vague sense of presence but no clarity or precision.
• Sometimes experience feels bright and immediate; othertimes flat or distant.
• Practice begins with a clear purpose, but within moments that intention fades or fragments.

From Then and Now 16

Most of you here have been exposed to teachings of mahamudra and dzogchen. These are advanced teachings, even though they're given out to all kinds of people. But a lot of people who receive them don’t appreciate their subtlety or where they fit in the progression that I'm describing. I can describe the progression in another way, and that is in terms of attachment to ideas about the world.

So, we start off thinking, “Well, you know, life isn’t bad, but I'm having a certain kind of difficulty and if I could just learn a few skills then everything would just be great. If I could learn not to react so much, then my life would be great.” So, sit down and learn how to meditate. And it's true. I learn how not to react so much.

But in the process of learning how not to react, which is basically letting go of thoughts and feelings as facts and just experience them as thoughts and feelings. In developing that ability we become aware of a much deeper problem: that all of that reactivity is organized around a sense of self, and serves to protect that sense of self. And so we go, “Ah, there's a bigger problem here. I didn't realize this. Well, if I could just let go of the sense of self, you know, then I wouldn't react at all. That'd be so cool.”

So now meditation and one's practice takes on a different tenor. And you begin to develop not just a calm mind, a mind which is less reactive, but you also develop a certain ability to see into the nature of things because an intellectual understanding that there is no self doesn't change anything as you well know. It has to be a direct experience. So you're beginning to move into the realm of direct experience and direct awareness, which is a beginning to approach rig pa and awareness and all of those things.

And so, you come to a point where you go, “Wow, I don’t exist as a thing.” And that’s a very definite experience. Some people say, “That’s totally cool,” some people say, “This freaks me out.” People have different reactions to that experience. But, it opens up more possibilities.

But again, it reveals a deeper problem. And that is, “Well, if I don’t exist as a thing, then what is all this? And where does confusion arise? And where does being awake arise? If there's no entity which is me what do all of these things mean?” That's a really difficult question.

This leads to another level of exploration which is basically what bodhicitta and mahamudra and dzogchen are about: there is just this experience which is simultaneously vivid and empty. When one can actually experience that moment to moment in a completely non-conceptual awareness, that's what you're calling rig pa. Now, that's the progression as a progressive letting go of more and more.

In Gampopa's writing, when you get to The Perfection of Wisdom you'll see he does write about mahamudra and madyamaka. He doesn't write explicitly about dzogchen. It's implicit in this approach but here this is a path, a graded path, a step-by-step path where the dzogchen and mahamudra teachings in the vajrayana take the perspective: this is present in us right now. It doesn't have to be grown, you don't have to go through a process, you can relate to it right now.

That’s a different approach. It's a very effective approach. And usually in the Tibetan tradition one worked with both approaches simultaneously because there were abilities that needed to be cultivated. As you well know, one has to have a certain ability in attention otherwise one simply can't practice dzogchen. One can think one's practicing dzogchen but you're not. That's where a lot of people are today.

Related posts:
Practice Intensely With Little Fanfare
Things Aren’t What They Seem

Profound Radiance: A Guided Meditation

In this talk on the Heart Sutra Ken takes students through a guided meditation intended to elicit the experience of Profound Radiance, the absorption that the Buddha entered on Vulture Peak. Meanwhile, as the sutra relates, "through the power of the Buddha" Shariputra asked noble Avalokiteshvara how to train for practicing the perfection of wisdom.

The first time I heard this guided meditation, a shockwave hit. How could an ordinary person ever hope to experience Profound Radiance? Only later did I understand that this becomes possible through the power of a skilled teacher.

Ken presents this meditation very frequently, in many classes and retreats, often calling it "the primary practice."

From Heart Sutra Workshop

So here's Buddha. He's meditating. And notice the situation: they're perched on a mountaintop, which is a place that actually exists in India. I've been there. And he's surrounded by monastics and bodhisattvas.

And he entered an absorption, called Profound Illumination or Profound Radiance—it's translated in different ways—in which all elements of experience are present.

How many of you know this absorption? How many of you would like to know this absorption?

So let's spend a few minutes.

Now if you're going to have all elements of experience, it's probably better if you have your eyes open so you aren't shutting things out. So start just by sitting and resting with something we all know, resting in the experience of breathing. [Pause]

Now generally when we rest in the experience of breathing the first thing we become aware of is the sensation of the breath through the nostrils. But that's only part of the experience of breathing. You may also notice that the breath flows through one or other of the nostrils more than the other, maybe the temperature is slightly different. You may also notice a sensation, a cool sensation at the back of your throat when you breathe in. Movement of the lungs and the chest. Movement in the diaphragm and stomach. So just experience all of that. [Pause]

You may also experience your back moving, a little bit. When you breathe in the body straightens up, a little bit. When you breathe out it bends forward, a little bit. It may only be a couple of millimeters. [Pause]

You may notice that your head moves accordingly, the chin moves very slightly up and down. Whoever said that meditation was actually sitting still? [Pause]

There may be other sensations taking place in your body connected with breathing. Experience all of them. You may find your attention moving from one sensation to the other. You don't need to do that, you can experience them all at the same time. [Pause]

So experience all the tactile and kinesthetic sensations associated with breathing. [Pause]

Then include a bit more. All of the tactile and kinesthetic sensations associated with your body. Sensation of clothes touching your body. The sensation of your body sitting, sensations of your hands and feet touching or interacting with each other. In addition to that all of the sensations connected with breathing. Just experience all of it. All at the same time.

You may find that your attention collapses down on one or other thing, and as soon as you notice that, just expand from that thing you are focusing on to include everything connected with breathing and your body. So just sit there for a few moments in the experience of breathing. [Pause]

But our sense of the organ of the body is only one of the five senses, there is also sight. So as you sit there in the experience of breathing you could also include everything that is in your field of vision. From where I sit that's the faces and bodies and clothes of all of you. All of the details of the thangkas and the glittering of the brocade that frames the thangkas, the lights, the ceiling, the floor, the windows, the walls. That's all part of the experience of breathing; it's all part of what we experience right now. [Pause]

Also include the sound of my voice and the sound of the traffic, just include everything. The feelings of your body when you breathe and all of the other sensations that arise in any of the senses.

You sit in a field of sensory experience. [Pause]

And you may notice as you sit in this field that there are other elements of experience. Maybe some thoughts arise because of the honking outside: "I wish it would go away," and there are feelings of dislike or displeasure. Maybe there are other thoughts, other emotions. In other words there is all this internal stuff that goes on too. So just include that: the sensations of the body, all the other senses, thoughts, feelings, sensory sensations, emotional sensations, cognitive sensations—we call those thoughts. Don't push any of it away, don't organize or understand any of it; just experience it all. And whenever you find yourself collapsing down on one thing, just expand back and include everything. You don't have to actually sit still to do this, you can let your eyes move gently and slowly around the room; taking in all the visuals but including the body sensations included in that.

So here we are in a field of experience: sensations, thoughts and feelings. You sit in this way long enough and you begin to wonder what outside and inside mean. So maybe we could just let those go and have this field of experience. [Pause]

Now, open your heart to this field of experience. Some of you may say, "What does that mean?" But you know what it is to open your heart to your spouse, or your partner or your child. So you just do the same thing with what you are experiencing. Just open your heart. [Pause]

So you have all of the physical sensations and all of the sensory sensations and all of the internal material: the thoughts and feelings and so forth and you have an open heart. [Pause]

Now in a moment I am going to suggest a question. I don't want you to answer the question, I simply want you to pose the question to yourself. When you do this, you'll probably experience some kind of shift. When you experience that shift just include that experience, too, with everything else.

So physical sensations, the breathing, all the sensation with the body, all the other sensory sensations: sight and sound, taste and smell. All the mental and emotional sensations: thoughts and feelings. The whole field of experience which we experience with an open heart.

The question is, "What experiences all this?"

As I say don't try to answer the question, just experience the shift and then include the experience of the shift with everything else.

What experiences all this? [Pause]

[Three strikes of the gong]

Related posts:
On Samadhi
Things Aren’t What They Seem

Working With Pain

Being present with chronic pain and acute discomfort—like throbbing, aching, or itching—can be extremly difficult. Some experiences of pain reveal themselves as shifting and vibrating energy when the light of attention shines on them, but others seem intractable.  I've tried breathing into such pain, pouring attention into it, but have noticed that this doesn't seem to help—I feel myself hardening up and turning the pain into an enemy. The next thing I know, I feel defeated and utterly exhausted, and the sense of self feels massive.  The I screams for relief, respite, oblivion. 

In this excerpt from a presentation on the Four Foundations of Mindfulness, Ken explains what happens energetically when we focus attention on a painful locus. I've found his instruction to be aware of the whole body—including the pain—to be particularly relevant as I grow older, although remembering to open and loosen the focus can be a challenge!

From Eightfold Path 2

Now I'm not quite sure how this happened—I think there are a number of possible ways—but people tend to associate mindfulness and attention with the narrowing of attention. It may be the word "concentrate" was influential here. And so people often approach their practice, and approach any form of practice of attention, with the focus of narrowing and excluding things. And this has been really problematic in a lot of people's practices. Because when they're excluding things stuff gets suppressed and that comes back to bite them in all kinds of ways. Creates sometimes quite severe imbalances.

One of the principles which at some point I was forced to start relating to—because I was getting into such a bad place in my practice—is the notion of inclusive attention. That is you include everything in your experience. So you may be attending to something, but you don't ignore everything else. And so at the beginning of the meditation period when I said to you, "Rest in the experience of breathing," it's different from focusing on the breath. When you rest in the experience of breathing you are in the experience of breathing, but as you rest more and more completely you include absolutely everything that you experience. Don't be distracted by any of it, but include everything you experience because it's all part of the experience of breathing. And you'll still be right there with the breath, but experiencing everything. This notion of inclusive attention really helps you form a relationship with your experience that is free from struggle, which is really the point of the whole exercise. So that's something I think you may find helpful.

One of the ways that I've found to work with pain and discomfort in the body is an application of this. I had a lot of difficulty with pain in the three-year retreat and I took the instruction to put my attention on the pain. It was not a good thing to do. I learned much later that when you put your attention on something, energy collects there. And so if you put your attention on a pain in your body then you are often drawing energy into a place that is already stagnant. The energy stagnates and makes things worse.

What I found works much better is to be aware of your whole body and include the sensation of pain in the awareness of the whole body. And that way you aren't focusing on the pain, but you are opening to the experience of it. Because you aren't focusing on the pain you aren't sending energy into that. Because you're aware of the whole body you're creating the conditions in which energy can circulate freely in the body in the way that is natural for the body. And that is going to move energy through that area of pain, allow energy to move through that, and that's going to help break up the stagnation of energy there.

So a very practical point of working with pain in the body: this inclusive attention and working with an expanded field of attention rather than a narrow focus of attention I found to be very, very important. So that's a principle that I hope will be helpful to you.

Related posts:
Getting Black and Blue: Learning to Rest in Awareness
Seeing From the Inside: Evolution and Cycles

Things Aren't What They Seem

The first edition of Arrow to the Heart, Ken's commentary on his translation of the Heart Sutra appeared in late 2007. Santa Fe Radio Cafe host, Mary-Charlotte Domandi interviewed Ken a few months later. I have often returned to this snippet from the interview because it was like an arrow to my heart.

From Heart Sutra Interview

"Form is emptiness" is basically a statement that things aren't what they seem. We have this experience now. We experience a table, a wall, light, When we actually ask, "What is this we experience?" whether you look at from a scientific point of view or a philosophical point of view, the substantiality of the experience runs out like sand running through your fingers. What is this that we experience? It's very, very difficult to describe. And that's what "form is emptiness refers" to. Experience when examined, is ineffable; you can't say what it is.

I have long wished to sing or chant the Heart Sutra, but was unable to find a version that brings out  its power and beauty. Br. Phap Linh's rendition inspired me to create a chant based on Ken's and Thich Nhat Hanh's translations. I worked with suno.com to create the voice and instrumentation. Listen here. 

Related posts:
Profound Radiance: A Guided Meditation
Letting Go of More and More