What's Wrong With Mindfulness- Zen Perspectives Read online

  PRAISE FOR

  WHAT’S WRONG WITH MINDFULNESS

  “The essays illuminate each other, like the facets of a jewel.”

  — Linda Galijan, San Francisco Zen Center

  “I am awed, appreciative, and impressed by the daring of the editors to examine the meaning of the word ‘mindfulness’ and how it is being lived.”

  — Elana Rosenbaum, author of Being Well (Even When You’re Sick)

  “Raises urgent questions about Mindfulness — capital ‘M’ — now that it has been extracted from its Buddhist roots.”

  — Gaelyn Godwin, abbot, Auspicious Cloud Temple, Houston Zen Center

  “If you’re really into mindfulness, if you really want to know about mindfulness deeply, then this is a book for you to read and, more, to contemplate. Be prepared to be moved.”

  — Arthur C. Bohart, professor emeritus, California State University, Dominguez Hills

  “ARTICULATE AND COURAGEOUS, THIS BOOK EXPANDS OUR UNDERSTANDING OF MINDFULNESS AND MERGES DEEP RESPECT FOR TRADITION WITH THOROUGH ACCEPTANCE OF CONTEMPORARY TIMES.”

  — Deborah Schoeberlein David, author of Living Mindfully

  MINDFULNESS IS IN FASHION. Oprah loves it, Google teaches it to employees — it has become widespread as a cure-all for stress, health problems and psychological difficulties, interpersonal trouble, and existential anxiety. But in the context of the Zen Buddhist tradition, what more might mindfulness have to offer?

  The Zen teachers gathered here each offer a powerful perspective on what “mindfulness” means, its strengths, and the potential pitfalls of decontextualizing mindfulness practice:

  GIL FRONSDAL AND MAX ERDSTEIN THOUGHTFULLY EXPLORE THE RICH THERAVADAN ROOTS OF MINDFULNESS

  BARRY MAGID AND MARC POIRIER EXAMINE THE UNINTENDED SIDE EFFECTS OF EXPOSING A SPIRITUAL TRADITION TO THE DEMANDS OF CAPITALISM

  NORMAN FISCHER DEMONSTRATES HOW MINDFULNESS INFORMS HIS CREATIVE PROCESS

  SALLIE JIKO TISDALE ON MINDFULNESS MIXED INTO A POTPOURRI OF SPIRITUAL, MYSTICAL, AND SELF-HELP METHODS

  AND MORE, INCLUDING ESSAYS ON MINDFULNESS AND ENVIRONMENTALISM, SCIENCE, AND PSYCHOLOGY.

  Each chapter offers insights to ground mindfulness in a deeper understanding of both where it comes from and where it might be headed.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Introduction: Universal Mindfulness — Be Careful What You Wish For?

  Robert Meikyo Rosenbaum and Barry Magid

  PART I. CRITICAL CONCERNS

  1.Mischief in the Marketplace for Mindfulness

  Marc R. Poirier

  2.“I” Doesn’t Mind

  Robert Meikyo Rosenbaum

  3.The Three Shaky Pillars of Western Buddhism: Deracination, Secularization, and Instrumentalization

  Barry Magid and Marc R. Poirier

  4.Mindfulness Myths: Fantasies and Facts

  Robert Meikyo Rosenbaum

  5.One Body, Whole Life: Mindfulness and Zen

  Hozan Alan Senauke

  6.The Buffet: Adventures in the New Age

  Sallie Jiko Tisdale

  PART II. CREATIVE ENGAGEMENT: ZEN EXPERIENCES WITH MINDFULNESS PRACTICE

  7.Two Practices, One Path

  Gil Fronsdal and Max Erdstein

  8.Solitude: On Mindfulness in the Arts

  Norman Fischer

  9.Plastic, Zen, and Mindfulness

  Janet Jiryu Abels

  10.Drowning in Suffering: Mindful Feminism Finds Zen Liberation

  Grace Schireson

  11.A Bite of the Universe

  Sojun Mel Weitsman

  Epilogue: Is Mindfulness Buddhist? (And Why It Matters)

  Robert H. Sharf

  Coda

  Robert Meikyo Rosenbaum and Barry Magid

  Notes

  Index

  About the Contributors

  About the Editors

  INTRODUCTION

  UNIVERSAL MINDFULNESS — BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR?

  Robert Meikyo Rosenbaum and Barry Magid

  ZEN TEACHERS SPEAK TO MINDFULNESS

  Half a century ago, Zen was the magic elixir that would save all of us in the West from ourselves. Beat poetry, the inner game of tennis, and the art of motorcycle maintenance — even the nostrums of business management manuals all claimed to bear Zen’s imprimatur. Zen, with its spare aesthetic and paradoxical stories, seemed to offer an antidote to the stresses of conformity and the false promises of commercialism. As a bonus, it apparently provided a tried and true pathway to enlightenment for the spiritual seeker.

  With time we learned that Zen is — as it likes to proclaim — nothing special. Its practitioners are not exempted from ordinary human frailties. Throughout its history in Asia, Zen, far from being the rarefied panacea we had imagined, suffered its disappointments and its scandals, its organizational struggles, personal rivalries, and internecine doctrinal conflicts. Zen in America and Europe also turned out to not be immune from muddles and missteps. This was disillusioning but also, ultimately, refreshing: rather than pretending to be some precious, idealized practice, Zen in the West had to become real.

  Being real means engaging with all the bits and pieces of everyday life. But what should that look like? A series of woodblock prints famous in the Zen tradition — the Ox-Herding Pictures — depicts the various stages of a spiritual journey. The tenth and final picture depicts the culmination of practice as “returning to the marketplace with bliss-bestowing hands.” The marketplace represents the hubbub of daily life with its jostle and noise, its glitter and its dust; this tenth Ox-Herding picture offers a vision of how a mature practitioner, forged by the rigors of the long quest, is able to return to everyday affairs and be “in the world but not of it.” Appearing as deeply ordinary, still she lives a life that supports the liberation of all beings.

  In Zen we like to say “the lotus blooms in the mud… and the mud is pretty interesting, too.” Since its arrival in the West, Zen has had its share of mud: teachers who did not live up to the ethical standards expected of them; difficulties supporting some practice centers while other groups thrived using commercial business models; arguments about how to stay true to tradition while also fostering the emergence of new forms of practice. In spite of and sometimes even because of these difficulties, Zen in the West has provided a deeply satisfying spiritual path for many, and the liberation it offers not only survived its journey to the West but has arguably been reinvigorated as its devoted practitioners struggled to make sense of it in its new time and place.

  Now it is mindfulness’s turn to be appropriated by Western culture as the philosopher’s stone. Sometimes idealized as a cure-all and sometimes vilified as a New Age pablum, it has spread into society at large and, like Zen, expanded beyond its original training venues, religious practices, and cultural contexts. “Mindfulness” is becoming a generic term whose meaning becomes less clear in direct proportion to the hype it generates. It can be found everywhere; corporate retreats, medical centers, sports facilities, and even the military have adopted it as a way to decrease stress and improve performance.

  Mindfulness has indeed entered the marketplace in the West, but it is questionable whether its hands are always bliss bestowing; there is even a danger of them becoming as grasping as all the other hands to be found there. This is not because mindfulness’s proponents are greedily chasing after money — though sadly that seems to be a not-infrequent phenomenon — ­­but because the movement seems preoccupied with results. This goal-oriented grasping has streamlined and mass marketed what Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche, a generation ago, so aptly called “s
piritual materialism.”

  The Heart Sutra, a text at the very core of Mahayana Buddhist teaching, proclaims there is “no path, no wisdom, and no gain.” “No gain” is the very antithesis of spiritual materialism; it rejects any means-to-an-end conceptualization or use of meditation. Preserving the centrality of “no gain” is how Zen can potentially maintain its integrity in the midst of a marketplace-­based society. To the extent that it has been able to do so, Zen, for all its stumbles and excesses, is uniquely positioned to serve as an examplar to the mindfulness movement as it makes its own attempt to bring a Buddhist practice to the world without the world in turn contaminating the heart of Buddhist practice.

  The Zen teachers assembled here, representing many different lineages and styles of teaching, have all been deeply schooled in the attitude of “no gain.” We also have practical experience wrestling with the knotty issue of how to take practices derived from Asian Buddhism and adapt them to our Western context while remaining true to the healthy roots on which they rely. For instance, all of us are engaged in teaching laypeople who may never see the inside of a monastery and who certainly will not live lives adhering to the strict list of precepts that govern Buddhist monastics. Although mindfulness is most intimately associated with the Theravada or Vipassana traditions, mindfulness also plays an important role in Zen (though often in subtly different forms). We hope by sharing our perspectives we may be able to contribute some insight to the issues our friends in the mindfulness movement face.

  LOST IN TRANSLATION?

  Zen in America has itself been subject to three powerfully destabilizing trends: secularization (taking practice out of its monastic context with its associated religious rituals), instrumentalization (for example, using meditation as a “technique” for realizing personal self-transformation), and deracination (extracting Buddhist practices from their cultural and historical roots). All of the authors in this book are concerned, though, that the mindfulness movement sometimes carries these trends to extremes. Removed from its rich — and rigorously ascetic — Theravadin Buddhist context, mindfulness has been imported to the West as a fully secularized technique that can be learned and practiced over the course of a few weeks or even within the confines of a weekend workshop. This consumer-oriented, quick-fix approach to meditation, which has come to be dubbed “McMindfulness,” has raised serious questions in our minds about the trends of which we are a part.

  Traditionally Buddhist teachings were conveyed face to face and mind to mind, requiring a close relationship between student and teacher, along with the intimacy that arises when people live together, in the day-to-day activities of a community. A poem frequently recited in Zen Buddhist temples starts off “The mind of the great sage of India is conveyed intimately from west to east.” According to tradition, Zen began when Buddha taught an assembly of followers by simply holding up a flower; his disciple Mahakashyapa smiled, and Buddha declared the transmission was complete. This intimacy was and, we feel, continues to be crucial — and in stark contrast to some of the ways mindfulness is taught today, when it is presented didactically in classrooms or as sound bites in seminars.

  Many teachers of mindfulness work hard to ensure Buddhist teachings are transmitted intimately and thoroughly in their new contexts. Jack Kornfield, Joseph Goldstein, and Sharon Salzberg, for instance, have retained the major elements of Buddhist psychology and phenomenology in the creation of Insight Meditation. Others, like Jon Kabat-Zinn, have separated the techniques of awareness from their Buddhist roots so as to create therapeutic techniques that can be focused on stress reduction and other medical uses. We applaud the sincere thoughtfulness of this approach and how the Center for Mindfulness has labored to specify training requirements for its teachers, but we wonder if even a well-designed training regimen can develop, in a year or two, the kind of spiritual depth Zen Buddhist training develops over what is usually decades of rigorous practice (or, for that matter, the kind of psychological acumen therapists usually need many years of training to acquire).

  Further afield, we are concerned when mindfulness morphs into myriad strains of self-improvement, self-actualization, and sometimes, it seems, simply the self-involvement of a consumerist culture.

  Around 1227 CE, Eihei Dogen, the founder of Soto Zen in Japan, wrote an introduction to meditation practice whose title could be translated as “Recommending Zazen for All People.” Dogen suggested meditation (zazen, in Zen parlance) could be practiced universally.

  What would it mean for everyone to practice meditation? Perhaps it sounds like a utopian fantasy; on the other hand, seeing how popular mindfulness meditation has become, it may be a case of “be careful what you wish for.”

  The zazen that Dogen recommended was not, he said, merely a technique of meditation, but rather, the Dharma gate of joy and ease. Passing through that gate was dependent on foregoing all our usual assumptions about meditation being a “technique,” whether for attaining calmness, equanimity, or even enlightenment itself. But if meditation is not a technique, what is it? This is the question we see the mindfulness movement bypassing in its rush to transplant an explicit set of “techniques” taken from the practices of ascetic, renunciant Southeast Asian Theravadin Buddhist monastics, stripping them of their Buddhist and Asian origins, and repackaging them in a secularized and often medicalized guise for Westerners. The movement often contends that spiritual or religious experience can no longer make a convincing claim for the time and attention of the average person; instead, it insists a scientifically validated problem-focused method is required.

  The mass media are noisy with the promises of what mindfulness will help you achieve; you can find mindfulness programs ranging from how to cope with cancer to how to learn to play the harmonica. Fascination with “mindfulness” has become so widespread it has become a generic term that can mean any of the following, to name just a few:

  •a method for stress reduction

  •a method of meditation

  •a way of focusing and paying attention

  •being alert instead of spacing out

  •a method for controlling thoughts and feelings

  •a method for training the brain

  •a treatment for physical illness

  •a method of psychotherapy

  •a way of being kind and compassionate

  •a path for personal happiness

  •focusing on the present moment

  We have no doubt that many, many people have benefitted from their exposure to mindfulness. Surely the practice of meditation, in whatever form, provides some help in developing a greater sense of equanimity in the face of the stresses of modern life. To the extent mindfulness helps people realize thoughts are just thoughts and sensations are just sensations, it is likely to be useful in clinical contexts for patients caught in cycles of physical pain and emotional suffering. Perhaps mindfulness can even, as some of its adherents claim (or at least hope), foster cooperation and peace between peoples — at least if it is offered in the context of an ethic of interdependence and nonviolence.

  But bringing what had hitherto been an esoteric practice within reach of millions is not without both its pitfalls and pratfalls. Whenever something has the power to help, it will inevitably also have the power to harm; it could not otherwise be effective. There is no medication that doesn’t cause side effects in some people; there is no solution that doesn’t create unexpected consequences.

  Paying attention is good but can be exhausting; being able to focus is good but sometimes comes at the expense of constricting creativity. Being alert is prized by society, but a good rest is important to restore and refresh. Self-awareness can help guide us or can make us awkwardly self-critical. Surely personal happiness is desirable, but can it be complete without taking into account others’ happiness as well? And if we engage in a practice out of a desire for personal gain, can’t that very desire ensnare us? Dogen may have recommended universal zazen, but he also said that realization is effort
without desire.1

  As mindfulness gets absorbed into a society that runs on the engines of consumerism, competition, and glorification of the individual self, it runs the danger of turning into one more brand trademarked for purely personal gratification. One might say that these trends illustrate all too well that self-involvement is not the same as self-awareness. A lot of good is coming from mindfulness practices, but a lot of money is being made as it becomes commercialized. Can a meditation that was developed within Buddhism — which teaches that desire lies at the core of suffering — be transformed into a convenient means to achieving a desired end without losing some of its heart? Can a spiritual practice become a commodity without suffering some effects? For that matter, when one secularizes the spiritual, does the change in context inevitably change the experience?

  CONTRIBUTORS’ PERSPECTIVES

  Each contributor to this book offers a unique perspective on what “mindfulness” means in contemporary American Buddhism: these run the gamut from a deeply respectful reclaiming of the profound Theravadin roots of mindfulness, to deeply critical assessments of the dilution, if not outright perversion, of meditation presented shorn of its ethical and spiritual dimensions.

  The first section of this book explores some of the potential risks of this secularization. The chapter by Marc Poirier, for instance, delves into how the intrusion of the marketplace into the practice of mindfulness can have myriad unintended side effects. Robert Rosenbaum offers a chapter investigating how the very word “mindfulness” can lead us to conceptualize mind in a narrow fashion, leading to a reification that misses the transformative Buddhist implications of the emptiness of all phenomena.

  The chapter by Barry Magid and Marc Poirier examines the way their own Zen tradition is being transformed by trends dating back to the modernizing impulses of Meiji-era Japan. Magid is himself an example of a lay, nonmonastically trained, psychoanalyst Zen teacher; he and Poirier wonder how we can best establish a viable middle way between a return to traditional monastic training and the watering down of Buddhism they see taking place in the mindfulness movement. They suggest the tendency toward deracination, secularization, and instrumentalization that has characterized much of Buddhism’s encounter with contemporary Western society has been taken to extremes by the mindfulness movement.