The Mindful Path to Self-Compassion Read online

  EEG recordings showed that meditators had increased activation in the left side of the frontal region of their brains, an area associated with positive emotions. This brain activity was evident even when meditators wrote about negative experiences in their lives, suggesting that they had learned to adapt well to unpleasant mind states. Blood tests were given at 4 and 8 weeks after the flu vaccine was administered and meditators generated more antibodies than nonmeditators, demonstrating stronger immune systems. Interestingly, the number of flu antibodies correlated with left-sided brain activation among the meditators—more left frontal activation, more antibodies.

  In 2008, David Creswell and colleagues also measured the impact of the MBSR program on immune functioning. They trained an ethnically diverse sample of 48 HIV-positive patients in the MBSR program and thereafter counted the number of CD4 T cells—the cells that are destroyed by the HIV virus. (CD4 T cells are considered the “brains” of the immune system that protect the body against attack.) Creswell and colleagues found that “the more mindfulness meditation classes people attended, the higher the CD4 T cells at the study’s conclusion.”

  Charles Raison and colleagues at Emory University examined the effect of meditation on the inflammatory protein, interleukin-6. Chronic stress increases plasma concentrations of IL-6, and elevated IL-6 predicts illnesses such as vascular disease, diabetes, dementia, and depression. The researchers compared a group of students who completed 8 weeks of compassion meditation (with some mindfulness meditation) to a group that had twice-weekly health discussions. Afterwards, all students were put under stress in a public speaking and mental arithmetic challenge. No clear differences in IL-6 were found between the meditation and control groups. However, meditators who practiced more than average had significantly lower levels of IL-6 compared to their less zealous colleagues, suggesting that mind training can reduce inflammatory responses to stress.

  Some parts of the brain even grow thicker when we meditate daily over a period of years. Sara Lazar and colleagues at Harvard University measured whether long-term mindfulness meditation can change the physical structure of the brain. They found that the prefrontal cortex and the right anterior insula—regions associated with attention, internal awareness, and sensory processing—were thicker in long-term meditators than in matched controls. Furthermore, cortical thickening correlated with years of meditation experience and seemed to offset thinning of the cerebral cortex that naturally occurs as we age.

  The psychological mechanisms by which long-term mindfulness meditation translates into less suffering are under preliminary investigation. One hypothesis is that our difficult memories lose their edge if they arise when we’re in a calm state of mind— “interoceptive exposure.” Another is that we learn to regulate our attention, and knowing when and where to place our attention helps us regulate emotion. George did this by focusing on his here-and-now stone when he was overwhelmed by trauma flashbacks. Yet another potential mechanism of action for mindfulness meditation is “metacognition,” the ability to step back and witness our thoughts and feelings rather than getting hijacked by them.

  Perhaps the most compelling explanation for why mindfulness works is that, over time, we acquire beneficial insights about life. We discover how everything changes, how we create our own suffering when we fight change, and how we unconsciously cobble together a sense of “self.” The latter insight is beneficial because most of our waking moments are spent vainly boosting or fearfully protecting our fragile egos from assault. (More is said about this baffling, yet important, topic near the end of Chapters 4 and 5.) When these insights about life become deep and abiding, they help us receive success and failure with equanimity, tolerate emotional pain knowing “this too will pass,” and have the courage to seize each precious moment of our lives. In other words, intuitive insights derived from intensive meditation can help us establish a less defensive, more flexible, relationship to the world.

  What Mindfulness Is Not

  Mindfulness is not trying to relax. When we become aware of what’s happening in our lives, it can be anything but relaxing, especially if we’re stuck in a difficult situation. As we learn more about ourselves, however, we become less surprised by the feelings that arise within us. We develop a less reactive relationship to inner experience. We can recognize and let go of emotional storms more easily.

  Mindfulness is not a religion. Although mindfulness has been practiced by Buddhist nuns and monks for over 2,500 years, any purposeful activity that increases awareness of moment-to-moment experience is a mindfulness exercise. We can practice mindfulness as part of a religion or not. Modern scientific psychology considers mindfulness to be a core healing factor in psychotherapy.

  Mindfulness is not about transcending ordinary life. Mindfulness is making intimate contact with each moment of our lives, no matter how trivial or mundane. Simple things can become very special—extraordinarily ordinary—with this type of awareness. For example, the flavor of your food or the color of a rose will be enhanced if you pay close attention to it. Mindfulness is also about experiencing oneself more fully, not trying to bypass the mundane, ragged edges of our lives.

  Mindfulness is not emptying the mind of thoughts. The brain will always produce thoughts—that’s what it does. Mindfulness allows us to develop a more harmonious relationship with our thoughts and feelings through a deep understanding of how the mind works. It may feel as if we have fewer thoughts, because we’re not struggling with them so much.

  Mindfulness is not difficult. You shouldn’t feel disheartened when you discover that your mind wanders incessantly. That’s the nature of the mind. It’s also the nature of the mind to eventually become aware of its wandering. Ironically, it’s in the very moment when you despair that you’re not mindful that you’ve become mindful. It’s not possible to do this practice perfectly, nor is it possible to fail. That is why it’s called a “practice.”

  Mindfulness is not escape from pain. This is the toughest idea to accept because we rarely do anything without the wish to feel better. You will feel better with mindfulness and acceptance, but only by learning not to escape from pain. Pain is like an angry bull: When it’s confined to a tight stall, it will be wild and try to escape. When it’s in a wide-open field, it will calm down. Mindfulness makes emotional space for pain.

  PRACTICING MINDFULNESS IN DAILY LIFE

  Mindfulness in daily life is “informal” meditation practice. Short moments of mindful awareness can substantially reduce the stress that we accumulate throughout the day. And it feels good to just be, if only for a few seconds.

  Informal practice means we choose to pay attention, on purpose, to what’s occurring in the present moment. Any moment-to-moment experience is a suitable object of mindfulness. That could mean listening to birds, tasting your food, feeling the earth beneath your feet as you walk, noticing the grip of your hands on the steering wheel, scanning your body for physical sensations, or noticing your breathing. It could be as simple as wiggling your toes. The present moment liberates us from our preoccupations, never judges us, and is endlessly entertaining.

  Don’t underestimate the power of brief mindfulness exercises. A report in the psychological literature describes a 27-year-old man, James, who suffered from mild mental retardation and mental illness. He was hospitalized several times for aggressive behavior. During one hospitalization, James received mindfulness training twice a day for 5 days, plus assignments for another week. The training went like this:

  Stand or sit with your feet flat on the floor.

  Breathe normally.

  Think of something that leads to feeling angry.

  Shift your focus to your feet and wait until you feel calm.

  James practiced this “soles of the feet” meditation whenever he became angry. One year later, his aggressive behavior had decreased significantly, he was able to stop taking all the medication he had been on, and his caregivers no longer considered him mentally ill.

  Customi
zing Mindfulness Exercises

  The most important thing to keep in mind when you tailor mindfulness exercises for yourself is to make them as pleasurable as possible. Mindful awareness comes naturally when we’re enjoying ourselves.

  All mindfulness exercises have three basic components:

  Stop

  Observe

  Return

  Stop

  First we need to stop what we’re doing. If you’re arguing on the phone, you can take a moment of silence. If you’re caught in a traffic jam and worrying about being late, you might take a deep, conscious breath. Slowing down also facilitates mindfulness. If you eat more slowly, you’ll be more aware of what you’re eating, and you might even give your body a chance to tell you when you’re full. When you reduce your walking speed, you’ll see more of your surroundings.

  Observe

  Observing doesn’t mean detachment or being overly objective. Instead, you want to be a “participant observer,” intimately engaged with the experience. Life is bubbling within you and you’re in the middle of it, yet you can observe.

  If calming down is your wish, it helps to have a single point of observation, such as the breath. If you want to explore and understand what you’re feeling at the moment, you can scan your body for sensations and perhaps label your emotions: “anger,” “fear,” “sadness.” (Much more will be said about mindfulness of emotions in the following chapter.)

  Return

  When you notice that your attention has been swept away into daydreams, gently return it to the focal object. If you’re in nature and wish to be more mindful of your surroundings, that may mean returning again and again to the sounds of the forest. If you’re chopping vegetables, it’s a safe bet that you’ll want to pay attention to the distance between your finger and the blade of the knife. (The closer our fingers get to the blade, the easier mindfulness becomes!)

  Conscious Breathing

  Whenever you feel stuck or confused, you can begin making the situation workable by taking a mindful breath: just stop what you’re doing and feel your breath. You can take a conscious breath anytime: in your car at a red light, during a business meeting, or while your child is having a tantrum. Let yourself be immersed in the nourishing experience of breathing. When you feel calmer and your mind has cleared, give yourself a chance to choose what to do next. Conscious breathing is the easiest, most common mindfulness technique; remembering to do it in the midst of our busy lives is the challenge.

  Mindful Walking

  Walking meditation is a delightful practice, especially if you’ve been sitting all day long and need a little exercise. You can practice walking as a formal, 20- to 30-minute meditation, or in spurts—as you walk to the bus stop or from your car to the grocery store. Anytime your feet hit the pavement, you can meditate. Of course, a meditative walk in the woods is a special way of opening to the beauty of nature.

  TRY THIS: Mindful Walking

  Plan to walk for 10 minutes or longer. Find a quiet place in your home where you can walk back and forth at least 20–30 feet at a time or in a circle. Make the decision to use the time to cultivate moment-to-moment kindly awareness.

  Stand still for a moment and anchor your attention in your body. Be aware of yourself in the standing posture. Feel your body.

  Start to walk slowly and deliberately. Notice how it feels to lift one foot, step forward, and place it down as the other foot begins to lift off the floor. Do the same with the other foot. Feel the sensations of lifting, stepping, and placing, over and over again. Feel free to use the words “lift,” “step,” “place” to focus your attention on the task.

  When your mind wanders, gently return to the physical sensations of walking. If you feel any urgency to move faster, simply note that and return to the sensations of walking.

  Do this with kindness and gratitude. Your relatively small feet are supporting your entire body; your hips are supporting your whole torso. Experience the marvel of walking.

  Move slowly and fluidly through space, being aware that you’re walking. Some people find it easiest to keep their attention below the knees, or exclusively on the soles of the feet.

  When you reach the end of your walking space, pause a moment, take a conscious breath, remain anchored in your body, and reverse direction.

  At the end of the meditation period, invite yourself to be mindful of body sensations throughout the day. Notice the sensations of walking as you go on to your next activity.

  Do this exercise first at home, walking very slowly, and later walk at a normal pace when outside in public. It can be very grounding to feel the earth beneath your feet, especially when you’re in a hurry or emotionally upset. Some people prefer to just focus on their breathing while walking. That’s fine too. As in all mindfulness exercises, feel free to experiment and discover what works best for you.

  In the next chapter, we turn our attention to emotions: What are they? Where do they come from? How can you use mindfulness to deal with them, and why does it work?

  3

  bringing in difficult emotions

  How can emotions not be part of that singing life of grasses and fish and oil tankers and subways and cats who wake us, furious and smiling, in the middle of the brief summer night?

  —JANE HIRSHFIELD, poet

  From the exercises in Chapter 2, you may have discovered the emotional relief that comes when you anchor your attention in the body. That’s the first step toward regulating emotions: stabilizing attention. The next step is turning toward difficult emotions.

  Why would we want to do that? Unfortunately, difficult feelings are a part of everyone’s life, so we need to deal with them in the best possible way. We’ll never be able to relax if we’re fugitives from our own feelings. Some difficult emotions disappear on their own, like disappointment with your favorite baseball team or frustration over an unexpected car problem. Other feelings, like anger at a parent or fear following a car accident, may never quit. Relief only comes when we take a fresh look at those feelings and change our relationship to them.

  Many emotions are “difficult,” such as fear, anger, and hatred, but none are inherently “destructive.” At the very least, difficult emotions provide information about what’s happening inside and out. Emotions become destructive—leading to greater mental or physical suffering—when we cling to them or push them away. For example, clinging to anger may make you feel safe and self-assured but can lead to arguments with your loved ones and to stomach problems. Similarly, trying not to be angry, but still simmering inside, can have the same effect. The healthy alternative is to “hold” your emotions differently, in an open, aware, self-compassionate manner.

  When we open to difficult emotions, we’re not trying to stare them down either, making our lives miserable for the sake of peace and tranquility sometime in the future. In this chapter, you’ll learn to build a balanced relationship with emotions, here and now, day by day.

  HOW WE CREATE SUFFERING

  We’re in a better position to do something about disturbing emotions when we know how they emerge from barely perceptible origins. We can nip them in the bud. Here’s a story from my own marriage.

  I was looking forward to welcoming my wife home from the hospital where she had hip surgery. I wanted to show my love for her at this critical time, especially because I know that she’s not the type of person who relishes being dependent on others. “This is a unique opportunity to take good care of her,” I thought.

  My wife is a morning person and I’m not, but I decided to get up early on her first day home from the hospital. As I arranged my wife’s rehabilitation equipment—gripper, pressure sock sleeve, special shoes—I noticed I was feeling tense and grumpy. I suffer from morning hypoglycemia and had forgotten to drink some juice first thing out of bed. I decided to continue on because I wanted to be a good partner, at least for the next hour, and hid my tension by keeping silent. My wife noticed my puckered face, and an instant later I could see her become sad.
“How did she pick up on my mood?” I first thought, “Was I not gentle enough while pulling on her socks?”

  I felt ashamed for disappointing my wife, and started questioning my capacity to care for her. “What will happen when we’re old and frail?” I asked himself. At the same time, my wife was starting to worry that she might be too demanding, yet she desperately wanted to master her rehabilitation equipment on this first morning, so she could be more independent.

  As I criticized myself (“I’m probably not a caregiving person”), I felt the impulse to blame my wife for needing help so early in the morning. “She should know I’m not a morning person,” I thought. “But, then again, how can I blame her on this very first day back from the hospital? Today is about her needs, damn it, not mine! Maybe we’ll be done in a few minutes.” We weren’t.