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Mindfulness of the Body (5 of 5) Concluding Instruction

Today brings to a conclusion the week on mindfulness of the body. It also brings to a certain conclusion the last four weeks, where there were teachings and instructions on the four foundational areas that I often use to teach mindfulness practice: mindfulness of breathing, mindfulness of thinking, mindfulness of emotions, and, this week, mindfulness of the body.

I usually teach them in a different order: breath, body, emotions, and then thinking. But the idea is to have a sense of how to be mindful of all these different areas. At some point, the basic practice that I like to teach—how I like to teach Vipassana^[1]—is that a lot of it is focused on breathing. Breathing is the home. It is the default, the center of gravity, and the anchor to the present moment. Breathing is so deeply connected to all the other aspects of our life that it's a wonderful place to practice, because of the influence it has everywhere else.

But then, if anything else arises that is more compelling than breathing, either let go of the breathing and focus your mindfulness in that area—what's happening physically in the body, emotionally, or with thinking in the mind—or don't let go of the breathing, but let the breathing help you accompany this other thing that's more compelling. Breathe through it, breathe with it, so that the stabilizing force of breathing continues, but you're also attending to whatever else is really compelling or predominant in the experience.

As practice deepens, as the mindfulness gets calmer and more settled, the tendency is that the places that predominate (that are not the breathing) are slowly working through some of the kinks, some of the wrinkles, some of the places of holding or contraction that we have in our psychophysical system. As we bring our attention to them—unless it's just pure, straight physical pain, but even if it's mild pain—we are smoothing out the wrinkles, settling the agitation, and letting go of any clinging, holding, and contraction around this place. Slowly, there's more and more freeing, loosening, and opening up into more clarity and spaciousness in experience.

One of the places where this kind of holding pattern or contraction becomes evident is the separation between the mind and the body that some people have. Some people really live their lives above the neck. We say in English, "in the head," which usually means spending a lot of time thinking, analyzing, planning, and fantasizing. We swirl around in this two-dimensional world of just thoughts, ideas, and stories. The three-dimensional world opens up when the whole body is part of it all, and the field of relaxation, of letting go, of ease spreads outward in all directions.

To feel the separation, bring attention to that place of separation—or to the coagulation around the mind or thinking—and have that also begin to loosen, soften, and relax. At some point, there's no real divide between the mind and the body. You can identify them as being somewhat separate, but they're not really. They're coterminous. They encompass the same field of clarity, ease, and peace.

It's a process of letting go, of relaxing, of opening up, of being receptive, that expands and expands until everything is included. We start with the breathing, and then move to what's predominant. Different predominant things will appear; it seems kind of random, but as practice deepens, I don't think it's particularly random. We're going through layers of our being—layers where our coagulation is, where our congestion is, where we're stuck, where there's resistance, where there are holding patterns.

We go through it in whatever layers are predominant. One day it might be in the chest; another day it might be in the head or the shoulders. Or it might be certain emotions that come up, or certain cognitive things—ideas, stories, memories. I like to think that the Dharma^[2] knows best what's next for us. As we sit, focus, and settle, whatever arises next, it's as if the Dharma knows—or the inner life knows—"Okay, now it's time to be present for that, learn to find our freedom with that, not be caught by it, and learn to settle with this as well."

Sometimes, as we relax, there's a big letting go, a deep quantum deepening of letting go, relaxing, settling, or concentrating, and it can feel quite nice. This may be followed by a period of a little more difficulty, or sometimes a lot of difficulty. It's not that we're going backwards. Rather, as we go down, we take care of one floor in the building, and then we're ready to go down to the next one. It turns out the next floor hasn't been cleaned for decades, and now we have to deal with all the mess that's there. Once that's done, we may feel more settled, and we can go further and deeper. Maybe the next layer is feelings of great love or compassion. Or maybe it's a layer of fear. Who knows what's there?

I like to think that if the practice is sincere, the Dharma knows what to bring you next. This attitude—that the Dharma knows, or the inner life, the heart, knows what's next—is a nice way of relaxing our resistance, our feeling bothered or troubled by what comes up for us, what surfaces, what's next, or what goes on in our lives. There is an acceptance: "This too I get to practice with," instead of, "Not this, please," or "I'm doing it wrong." No, you are doing it right, because now this is coming up, and now you get to be with that.

This ability to just be with things as they are, and accept them as the field and domain of practice, is not a naive kind of acceptance. It is an acceptance where we're not in conflict, where we don't resist what arises, seeing it instead as the appropriate domain for practice. It's a powerful thing to learn how to be willing, open, and receptive to practice with anything that comes our way, rather than resisting, getting upset, or collapsing. We develop confidence and trust in the power of mindfulness, the power of practice, knowing: "This too I can step towards. I can turn towards it to be mindful of it, to be present for it, and to experience it."

We can go through these four different areas with whatever is happening now: What's happening with the breathing? How is the breathing going? What's happening in the body? What physical experiences or sensations are coming along? Where am I tight, holding, resisting, pulling back, or leaning forward? What's happening emotionally? What emotions are predominant or moving through me? What emotions are motivating me and prompting me to do something—to attack, run away, soothe, or comfort? What's going on? And then, to know what's happening with the mind: our thoughts, beliefs, cognitions, the movements of the mind, and the contractions of the mind.

We have these tools to be with what is and to practice with it, so that we can find our freedom in the middle of it. As we have our freedom, we hopefully have more wisdom about how to act, what to say, what to do, what to feel, what to intend, and how to be with a situation to take care of ourselves and the world.

The culmination of this practice, I feel, is to truly have no resistance in one's heart, no divide between the welfare of others and the welfare of oneself. We are certainly caring for ourselves, helping ourselves be safe and healthy, and allowing ourselves to thrive. We are important. We're not holding onto a self, holding ourselves separate from people, acting conceited, or attaching only to our own welfare. But we are also concerned for the welfare of others equally. There's a freedom and an ease in that care. It's not obligatory. It's not like we have to push against great odds. It's simply that a heart that is free and relaxed naturally wants to care for the welfare of others.

Others are very much like ourselves in deep ways, sharing the possibility for peace, love, and respect. We really come to understand that this practice is leading us to live in the world naturally concerned for the welfare and happiness of all beings everywhere. It is almost as if the welfare of others is our own welfare, and the welfare of ourselves is the welfare of others. We live in a world of caring for each other.

I hope these weeks on the basic teachings of mindfulness have given you a slightly different take on how it is usually taught, or supplemented and deepened it in some way, and supported you. It's possible we'll continue some aspect of this next week—maybe "post-graduate mindfulness" after graduating from these four weeks. Thank you very much for being part of this. I appreciate it very much, and I look forward to our time on Monday.