Moon Pointing

Mindfulness of the Body (4 of 5) Physically Calming the Mind

Date: 2020-09-17 | Speakers: Gil Fronsdal | Location: Insight Meditation Center | AI Gen: 2026-04-02 (default)

This is an AI-generated transcript from auto-generated subtitles for the video Dharmette: Mindfulness of the Body (4 of 5) Physically Calming the Mind. It likely contains inaccuracies, especially with speaker attribution if there are multiple speakers.

The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on September 17, 2020. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Mindfulness of the Body (4 of 5) Physically Calming the Mind

Mindfulness of the body serves as a foundation from which to understand the mind, relax the mind, and free the mind. As the body becomes more relaxed—but not limp—we can begin to see this connection. "Relax" might not be the best word; I think I mentioned the other day that the Buddhist words for this state are calm or tranquil[1]. There can be a clarity in tranquility, a crispness even. To have the body experience a sense of crisp, clear tranquility gives us an advantage. The more the body is relaxed and tranquil, the more we notice when the body gets tense and when we tighten up.

Certainly, it can involve big movements. Suddenly, a car comes barreling down the road in a way that's a little bit frightening, and we tense up. That's reasonable because we're getting ready to jump out of the way. But there are all kinds of ways in which we tense up the body. We have hundreds of little muscles, and they're all somehow connected to our feelings, our emotions, our thoughts, and our reactions. They are all part of the whole working system.

As we get more and more settled, and more muscles are relaxed, we can notice when those muscles tighten up. If they're already tight, then it becomes the status quo, and we don't really see the changing, shifting nature of what's happening inside. If we're completely tense all the time, we don't really notice that we're tense. Sometimes we don't even know that we're tight. I know for me, still to this day, sometimes when I sit down to meditate, only then do I notice that my shoulders are tight or that there is a little bit of holding in some part of my body. I can feel it in the breathing; as I inhale, at the top of the inhale, it's a little bit held back. There's a resistance there, and it's kind of the way I've been living my life—being busy, doing things. Then in meditation, I feel that, and I can relax. I have that ability because I have a contrast: I know what it's like to have an easeful, relaxed breath and relaxed shoulders.

The more relaxed the body gets, the more sensitive we become to movements in the mind—of clinging, of tightening, of resisting. We get more sensitive to how we pick up our thoughts and become involved in them. That is really the heart of it. It's not really what we're thinking about so much, but how we think: how invested we are in our thoughts, or reacting to them, resisting them, grabbing hold of them, or pushing them away. How we are in relationship to our thoughts can be felt in the body. If the body has become really relaxed and soft, you can see the difference. If the body is tense, you might not see the difference because it's just all part of the same thing.

Part of the benefit of really getting calm, concentrated, still, and quiet is finding a whole different relationship to the mind. When we see a little bit, we have a toehold into how to work with the mind. We do this not necessarily by shifting what we're thinking about or changing how we're feeling, but by noticing the physical tensions associated with the mind. Then, we relax.

Even if we can't relax it, there is something about holding the tensions of the mind in a relaxed way—in awareness and in mindfulness. Maybe we are not trying at all to relax, but simply holding tension in an awareness so that things begin to release themselves. It's kind of like someone who carries a tight fist all the time. They are so afraid or so angry, just holding it tight, and they don't even know that they're doing it. Then a friend comes along and says, "Here, my friend," taking their hand and resting it in their own. The friend says, "Now, relax your hand, relax your weight. Let my hand support you." Generally, the tendency for that hand is to begin to open and relax. The friend is not doing the relaxing, not forcing the hand open, but just holding and supporting it. Knowing it's accompanied allows the hand to relax.

The same thing happens with the contractions, the vice grip, or the smallness and narrowness that can sometimes be felt in the mind. If we just hold it in awareness and mindfulness, helping it feel safe and accompanied, then something begins to release and relax. In fact, some of the deepest forms of mental relaxation—the deepest forms of letting go—are so subtle that to be the agent doing the relaxing and letting go is a coarser activity than what is needed at that time. Trying to do it goes in the opposite direction. What is really needed is not any doing on our part, but just holding, being, and feeling. Then, at some point, something begins to release itself.

We don't want to overdo being the agent of relaxation, making ourselves calm. If we are pursuing that all the time, we're missing the opportunity to cultivate mindfulness, attention, and even concentration in a deeper way. Instead, relaxation is allowed to relax on its own. Feeling the activities of the mind physically is not easy, and for some people, I think it's a very foreign idea. But it starts becoming available when the whole system is more relaxed, our mindfulness has become stronger, and there is a heightened sensitivity to feel and sense what's going on.

There can be the slightest little movement in the mind to even begin thinking, and it can be felt as an ever-so-slight beginning of pressure somewhere in the mind. It is very soft, very relaxed—not necessarily uncomfortable—but you can feel the beginning of pressure. If you are there and relax that pressure, or just notice it carefully in mindfulness, that pressure can release. The fun thing about this is that you'll never know what that thought was going to be! If you're really quiet, still, and very sensitive, you can notice the physical changes associated with just the beginning of a thought before it has been fully formed. The physicality associated with the mind is that subtle.

It's easy to think of the mind as being disembodied—as this abstract, formless thing that has no connection to the body. But in fact, the mind is very closely and intimately connected with the body. The workings of the body influence and affect the mind. As for exactly which has priority or the major role, I think we should be very careful not to decide. In particular, we shouldn't decide that our whole life, and how we live, is entirely in our minds. The mind and body are closely related.

Reflections

Mindfulness of the body is a way of taking care of the mind; it's a way of taking care of the good heart. To develop mindfulness of the body—both by relaxing and by really seeing, sensing, and feeling the body fully—is a very significant way of caring for, healing, supporting, and ultimately freeing the mind.

From all these talks about mindfulness of the body so far, my hope is that you value your body, that you become a friend to your body, and that you really trust the inner body—what the body feels like from the inside out. Don't give so much attention, especially in meditation, to what the body is from the outside in—what it looks like, or what you think about it. Just really feel it. That is a powerful doorway to all kinds of benefits. Thank you.



  1. Calm / Tranquil: In Buddhist practice, terms often translated as "tranquility" or "calmness" (such as Passaddhi or Samatha) are recognized as important qualities for settling the mind and preparing for insight. ↩︎