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Space without Self-Definition

In the world of spiritual care here in the United States—the field of pastoral care or chaplaincy—there was a theologian named Henri Nouwen^[1]. He was foundational for establishing a general ethos and understanding of spiritual care in hospitals and chaplaincy. There is a very famous teaching from him. I don't remember exactly how it goes, but it is something like this: to offer spiritual care is to create an empty space in which to welcome the stranger.

This works particularly well in chaplaincy, where you're meeting people you don't know, but you create an empty space in which to welcome the stranger. So, what is this empty space that we create? I think it's easier to point out the opposite. We fill the space with our opinions and assertiveness. Sometimes there's no space because we talk too much to take care of them, taking the initiative and working on them. We fill the space with our judgments and conceit, thinking, "I'm special. I'm going to be the spiritual caregiver," or "I'm this and that." Or sometimes we have negative definitions of ourselves. People can feel the emotions and ideas we are living under, meaning there's no space left for the other.

In offering spiritual care, the purpose is to clear the air so people can breathe, be themselves, and feel it's okay to be themselves without being judged or put into a box. It is recognizing that this person is welcomed here completely as they are. That is so important for spiritual care because acceptance is the foundation to let someone blossom, find themselves, grow, develop, and become even more of who they actually are.

We can also do this for ourselves. We can create an empty space, a kind space, in which to welcome ourselves. What do we do that gets in the way of that? One of the ways is that we define ourselves in a lot of ways. We fill the space with definitions of ourselves. This is one of the things that meditation can help clear out, though there are other ways humans find to clear out the space and definitions we operate under.

Sometimes, locally, someone might go down to the coast and walk along the shore. The sand is just a big, open expanse. It can be a place where so much falls away and is forgotten, away from society. There's a kind of space there to just be and not be defined. Sometimes the magnitude and magnificence of the great Pacific Ocean, the sky, and the size of it all give a very different perspective of who we are. In an urban environment, it's so easy to be defined by our job, our relationships, our traffic patterns, and all kinds of things. Looking at a clear, dark night sky where all the stars are shining gives a very different feeling for who we are, creating an empty space where we're not defined.

Meditation can be one of those places. It's an important function or opportunity of meditation: to discover how to be present, how to breathe, and how to be attentive within a kind of empty space for ourselves, without definition.

This is represented very powerfully by how the Buddha referred to himself. We call him the Buddha, but he wasn't called that as often during his lifetime. We've settled on it as his name, but it's really an epithet^[2], meaning "the awakened one." While some people called him that, he seldom called himself that. Many people called him by his given name, Gotama.

When he referred to himself, he used a very enigmatic phrase that was perhaps already a title for spiritual teachers in his time. The word in Pali^[3] is Tathāgata^[4]. It is made up of the word tathā, a very simple word that means "like this," "thus," or "so." Lots of people have written about what the word gata means, but we repeatedly find it used as a suffix meaning something like "the one" or "the thing." So, it means "the one that is so," or "the one who is like this."

Imagine you go to someone and ask, "What are you? Who are you?" and they say, "Oh, I'm like this." You get what you see. Maybe they don't even say anything to you; they just open their arms and say, "Here." They don't define themselves. It could be a little bit irritating!

But there's also something very profound about that. The way they see and hold themselves is in this empty space where everything is welcomed and allowed to be there, without defining it in any one particular way. Any one particular definition narrows the field and doesn't allow for the fullness of what a person is, or what they can grow into in the next minute.

To not be defined... the Buddha did define himself at times, and he recognized that it is appropriate to define people by what they do. He said if you're farming, then you're a farmer. If you're selling goods, you're a merchant. If you're ruling people, then you're a ruler. If you steal, then you're a thief. But this is clearly provisional. These are just conventions and ways of referring to people by what they're doing that help us organize our lives in an efficient way.

Imagine if you go to a hospital because you need a major surgery, like brain surgery. You really want to be cared for, but that particular day the hospital decided defining everyone by what they do is old hat and limits everyone too much. "Today in the hospital, everyone who works here is not going to have any definition. No one is recognized as a surgeon, a janitor, or an administrative person. We're just here working." And then you need someone to come do your surgery, and everyone shows up! The whole hospital works much more efficiently if people are known by their function and what they've been trained to do.

But when they leave the hospital and take off their uniform, they don't have to be defined that way anymore. Some people want to continue to be defined that way outside of their work. They hold onto their status, their power, and the things that come with certain roles. They say, "You better define me this way. Let me tell you who I am," outside the context of what they're doing.

For me, I've spent a lot of time teaching. When I was a beginning teacher, I would go home to my wife, and she would say to me, "Gil, you're using that voice again." [Laughter] That's a place I can't be a teacher—right at home. There are places where you better put the role aside.

This is the ability to be defined while we're doing something, and drop it when we're not doing it. It's the ability to be defined functionally in the right place by what we're doing in certain situations, but to also have the ability to create an empty space for ourselves where, of course, you're allowed to be who you are, but there is no fixed, static thing that you are.

In Buddhism, the idea is that who we are is what we're becoming. It's always dynamic and changing. We are in a constant state of becoming, renewing, developing, growing, transforming, and changing. Buddhism has a very dynamic view of what a human being is. Because of that, a fixed definition limits the open space in which we can grow into the next moment.

We come to meditation, and part of what's possible is to let go of all the definitions and judgments. Sometimes it might be easier to let go of external definitions, like our profession or our place in a family. It was eye-opening for me in my 20s when I was talking to a Zen teacher about my relationship with my father. The Zen teacher said to me, "There was a time when your father was not a father. He was just a person. Chances are, he has a life outside of being a father." I thought, "Really? I just thought that's who he was. He's the father." Suddenly, he became much more multi-dimensional, and I created space for my father to be something beyond just a father.

Meditation is a place where external definitions of how we are in society can drop away. Sometimes that is easier than how we define ourselves on the inside—how we've internalized these things. Many people will define themselves by their shortcomings and negative judgments: "I'm this," or "I'm that." When I was young, in my 20s, I had a wonderful, amazing capacity to feel guilty. I was just guilty if I breathed! Before I did something, I was guilty. Before I even knew I was going to do something, I was guilty.

It was only when I started doing my Zen meditation practice that I saw how pervasive it was. The first time I saw it, I was walking across the meditation hall floor, and I felt guilty in the way I was walking. I asked, "What is going on here?"

We might think we're somehow inadequate or not worthy. We feel that way because we've internalized judgments from society, and societies do terrible things to each other, judging people by their race, gender, sexual orientation, class status, size, and age. Sometimes people internalize it. They go around feeling that they are not unlimited, filled with huge potential to become something inward, but rather they are held limited by these judgments and concepts they're caught in.

The amazing thing possible in meditation is not just to calm down. Meditation is often associated with becoming calm, but the calmness is just the tip of the iceberg. As the mind gets still and quieter, the activity of the mind to judge and define takes a break. It takes a vacation. We come to a time when we experience ourselves without any definition.

Like the Buddha, at those moments if someone asked, "Who are you? What are you?" a sincere answer would be to just lift your arms out wide, spread them, and say, "Just this." Or maybe you say, "I'm this." No definition beyond that. They just have to deal with that or take it in. Anything else seems like it limits or narrows it.

To come to a place where this sincere answer is "This is who I am" means we've created an empty space in which to welcome ourselves. It's an empty space to allow whatever we're meant to be, or whatever conditions come together to move through us, to grow, develop, and express itself.

One of the advantages of this empty space and non-definition is that we can see much more clearly when we begin defining ourselves. We can see more clearly when we begin acting and becoming something. If what you're becoming is hateful—if you're being the hater—you can see that clearly. In that clarity, where you haven't been judging or criticizing yourself or feeling guilty, you recognize the hate that arises. You recognize, "This is not good. This is not useful. This limits me." In fact, the Buddha said very clearly that greed, hate, and delusion are limiters. They limit people.

We can feel the cost of having hate in a way we can't if we're living an active, stressed, racing-around life. Hate can just feel like automatic pilot. People don't realize they were hating until after they're arrested for road rage, because they were beside themselves and caught up in it.

This ability to come into some modicum of an empty space where we can welcome all of who we are helps us be much more responsible for what arises within us, without judgment or criticism. We can learn to recognize when what's coming through us is healthy, and when it is motivated by unhealthy things like greed, lust, conceit, or hate. This is a hugely powerful insight. We can see it, work with it, practice with it, and then maybe return to the empty space. The empty space that welcomes a stranger is a kind space. It's a place of kindness that allows for the heart's care to be there. Remember, Henri Nouwen's quote was for spiritual caregivers; that's the space they're creating for their care.

We can have that care for ourselves and others just by discovering how to breathe, be alive, and be attentive without definition. It can be like very clean glass. Have you ever gone up to a glass door and tried to walk through it without realizing it was glass? I've done that. It's so clean and clear you don't see it. If the glass has a decal on it for the birds, or if the window is dirty or tinted, that defines it. But when it's really clear, it has no definition. The mind can become like a clear window, or even better, an open window.

To sit, meditate, and see what our mind is doing without judgment—dedicated to creating an open, welcoming space for all of it—can allow tension to unwind. It can allow the stress behind our everyday behavior, defining ourselves, and self-judgments to settle and quiet. It has a chance to relax. You can follow the path to less and less being defined by anything, until you find that the absence of definition provides a freedom and capacity to welcome everyone in a friendly space.

Those are my thoughts today. Does anybody have any comments or questions?

Q&A

Speaker 1: Just what you're talking about is what I'm really working with right now. I'm really realizing how much I hate, and I think a lot of it comes from projection of self-hatred, but also trusting my own inner guidance as far as where my hate goes. I knew someone who was a Buddhist teacher who hit her dog, and I had so much hate. Anyone who hurts an animal fills me with rage. I don't really know where I'm going with this, but I have a lot of confusion sometimes about what to accept, what to reject, and my own inner guidance. Knowing that I don't have it all figured out, things feel really tight, but also really spacious. It feels really groundless right now, and it's scary.

Gil Fronsdal: I certainly appreciate the clarity with which you can talk about this hate and rage. It's phenomenal to have that kind of clarity and the willingness to say it publicly like this. I take this to be really healthy. I think you're on a good path. The fact that you're feeling groundless at this particular juncture—there's probably no way around that. It is a groundless time to come to terms with it, see it clearly, and hold both a spacious way and a struggle with this hate and rage. I think you're in good hands with yourself. Just continue, because the hate and rage you're feeling probably needs that friendly, welcoming space. It's actually probably a symptom of something deeper. Don't feed the hate, but make room for it and befriend it so it has space and time. It might begin to settle enough that you can feel what is actually underneath it. I don't want to limit what it might be, but just to give you a hint: a high percentage of people who have hate and rage have a deep sense of hurt somewhere underneath it. Eventually, it's the hurt that really needs your attention and care. To be sidetracked too much by believing the hate or acting on it is a disservice to what really needs the attention.

Speaker 2: Thank you for what you shared today. Your teaching resonated with me not only in what I'm working on right now, but in relation to a tangential idea which might be relatable for others. One of the things I discover when I'm meditating in that open space, when all has fallen away and I'm in the stillness, is that there's space not only to let go of defining, but to let go of self-judgment. To work with my thought life, be able to notice that I am believing my thoughts, and then choose to start with allowance. For me, there's prayer involved as well, connecting to source and opening. In that, I'm creating space. I'm deeply grateful that you put words to what happens there.

Gil Fronsdal: Very nice. To add to what you said, as you're making that space and seeing your thoughts, it's probably a continuing process of opening new dimensions of space. Then you see more deeply what some of the thought patterns are, and which ones are healthy and which are not.

Speaker 3: You mentioned we need to create an open space where we don't have judgments, but often we come with judgments and it's tight and restricted. Is the path of going from the tight, restricted space to an open, non-judging space basically acknowledging what's coming and giving space for it? Is that the path by which it happens, or does it happen through developing a meditation practice?

Gil Fronsdal: It's a great question. One of the really important abilities we have as human beings that is maybe underappreciated is the capacity to have the veto power over what we do—to say, "I'm not going to say that. I'm not going to do that." We don't necessarily have control over what the mind kicks up—the thoughts, motivations, what we feel like we want to say or do. That is often outside of our control. That's why it's good not to judge ourselves for what comes. But we do want to have the veto power. "Okay, I'm not going to say that, and I'm not going to act on that."

Learning to be restrained and at ease in not doing is a phenomenal capacity. It doesn't sound very exciting to be restrained. We come to IMC and learn how to be restrained! It feels too limited, but it's actually the opposite. As we learn not to act on the unhealthy, harmful motivations the mind is capable of, or if we're unsure whether it's healthy or harmful and hold back, we get closer to that place of being undefined and free. We're actually exercising our freedom in using the veto power. Does that address your concern?

Speaker 3: Yes, thank you. So what you're saying is keep doing the vetoing until you go from a constricted space into an open space in the mind, and eventually it develops all the time, not just during meditation?

Gil Fronsdal: Yeah, especially if you're in social work. There are times, of course, where you want to give free rein to what's going on in the mind. When I used to go to the gym and work on exercise machines, I gave free rein to my mind. I would sometimes close my eyes and just let my mind do whatever it wanted to do. Or if I go for a walk up in the hills—there have been times when I've been really angry. I go for a walk and tell myself, "I'm not going to do anything to anyone. I'm not going to say anything or do anything, but I'm going to walk fast up in the hills and let that course through me." I'm not repressing or suppressing anything; it's very important to see it clearly. But the veto power is over causing harm with it.

Speaker 4: I've become aware that sometimes I can have a response to someone that seems unkind or even an immature reaction. It strikes me that it's almost like I have a bunch of three-year-olds and seven-year-olds within me. I've got to say, "No, kids, we're not going to do that."

Gil Fronsdal: Yeah, but sometimes it comes out and you do it. Sometimes you need to call on the inner adult. Or the inner grandparent, if you have good references for that. We have all these capacities. We can't necessarily control whether the inner kids are having a party, but you do have the veto power about what spills out. Hopefully, by nurturing them over time, you can help them grow up a little bit.

Speaker 5: Going back to having that veto power, it is a way to have inner love for yourself, but also external love and respect for those you're talking to. It's something a lot of people miss these days because they just care about their own opinion, not whether what they're saying is hurtful to another person. I'm glad you brought up not only making space for a stranger, but making space for yourself. A lot of us forget who we were compared to who we've become. It gets lost as we grow older; we get so busy with our external lives that we forget to take a step back and see what we're missing. By the way, off-topic, you have a great aura! I think it's important for people to be kind to each other.

Gil Fronsdal: Great, thank you. That was really well said. It just reinforces in a different way how important meditation can be.

Speaker 6: When you were talking about how the Buddha defined people by their jobs, and then you spoke personally about your teaching voice when you got home with your wife, I was thinking about fixed views. Having a fixed view of oneself—if I'm this, I need to behave and respond in a particular way—makes us suffer. Could you speak to how having this fixed view of self as a doctor, teacher, or lawyer can be something we cling to and cause more suffering in our lives?

Gil Fronsdal: If we're too crowded with too many definitions and activities, there's no space for love, kindness, inquiry, or deeper self-discovery. If we cling to these roles and jobs, it can be a headache for the people around you. You expect them to participate in the idea: "You better treat me with the right respect because guess who I am."

I noticed for myself, as a teacher for a number of years, defining myself or thinking I was a teacher was a heavy load to carry. It's much more liberating and freeing psychologically to say, "I am who I am, or I am what you see," rather than having to put on the role of a teacher all the time. That was a weight I somehow got rid of at some point.

It can be a pretty heavy burden for people. Some people prefer that strangers don't ask them what they do right away because it immediately defines them too much. Other people love it! And in between, it's just sometimes a very nice way to connect. How do you know where on that spectrum it is? It depends on the context and the person.

I think we should stop here. If you want to come out into the parking lot now—I think it's warm enough—bring a folding chair and we can sit in a circle outside, take off masks, and continue the discussion. Everyone's welcome to stay. Thank you for being here today, and thank you for your great comments and questions.