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Mindfulness of Breathing (2 of 7) Continuity

Today is the second talk on mindfulness of breathing. One of the goals of mindfulness meditation—and many other kinds of meditation—involves, in one way or another, being truly centered in the present moment, to really be here in a continuous way. Awareness is fully present for life, for experience.

The contrast to that is all the ways we are not present, the ways we are not really here in some qualitatively heightened way to feel and experience this life, to truly notice what is happening in a deep way. One of the most common ways we avoid being here is to wander off in discursive thoughts. We wander off into commentary, telling ourselves stories about the past, or making predictions about the future. The mind wanders off, and sometimes it can feel very pleasant and enjoyable to do that. Other times, it can feel like a drag or a challenge, and it isn't pleasant to interrupt it.

The River of the Present Moment

It is a little bit like water. When water is flowing down a mighty river, it can be quite beautiful to see its power and strength, knowing that it is going exactly where it is supposed to go. But if someone comes along and dams that river, the river stops. It is no longer a river. As the water builds up behind the dam, it starts spilling out and spreads across the plains, the lands, through the towns and cities. That water now has a certain kind of freedom in going over the banks of the river and flowing out across the plains, but in doing so, it causes a lot of destruction. It is no longer a river; it is no longer what it is.

There is a similar feeling of freedom when the mind wanders off into thought and does so freely. But in doing so, we have left the primary river of life—the river of our beingness in the present moment. It has a flow, a vitality, and a preciousness that can be lost if we allow the dam to interrupt it and let everything overflow the sides, causing all kinds of problems and catching us in the floods.

Not having the floods go over into the countryside can feel like a loss of freedom if we identify the flooding with freedom. There is a kind of interruption if we release the dam, but flowing is what the river wants to do. It does not want to be blocked. This idea of continuity of attention in the present moment is like opening up the dam so that our life can flow freely. In the present moment, we are truly aware of life as it comes and goes. Experiences come and go.

Cultivating Continuous Attention

To truly stay in the present moment is a capacity we all have. Sometimes, where it is most activated or naturally occurs for people is when they are afraid. Fear can strongly heighten present moment awareness. A mountain climber ascending a cliff may have enough concern that they are truly going to stay present for it. I recently read a first-person account of a neurosurgeon spending hours performing highly refined surgery under a microscope. They described how crucial it is not to let the mind waver. I can imagine there is a certain amount of fear there, but this keeps your attention and interest because it is so important.

Consider playing tennis. Imagine playing a championship game of tennis and wandering off, thinking about what happened in high school and your resentments toward a high school partner. The ball would just go right by you. The interest and enjoyment in the game keep you right there in the present moment. Reading a good book or watching a really interesting movie can do the same. The mind doesn't waver; it stays in the present moment because it is engaging and entertaining.

When we start doing meditation practice, part of both the gift and the challenge is that, sooner or later, it doesn't engage our fear, and it doesn't engage our desire for entertainment. Sometimes, it simply isn't naturally interesting. Because of all these things, it requires us to develop and strengthen our natural capacity to provide that continuous awareness ourselves, rather than relying on an external impetus.

This continuity of attention comes from a variety of different functions of the mind. One of them is relaxing. It is very hard to be in the present moment if we are not relaxed. There can certainly be a tense attention to the present moment that is continuous, but that is exhausting and counterproductive. We are looking for a soft, relaxed continuity of present moment attention that doesn't waver or wander off a lot. This works because the very tensions we hold in our minds, hearts, and bodies are often the fuel for the wandering mind. As relaxation kicks in, there is less and less impetus to wander off in thought.

Continuity also comes from a real dedication. It requires engaging an intentional faculty to truly sense a purpose—this is what I am doing. That can also be overdone, but without some sense of purpose, the mind will drift off too easily; it has no anchor and no ballast to keep us present. There is also the development of strength in mindfulness. Mindfulness is like a muscle. The more we practice it, the stronger it becomes, and the easier it is to stay present.

It also comes with a heightened alertness where we notice when the mind begins wandering off. People might initially feel that this heightened awareness is work, or that it is a bit stressful to put energy into being alert enough to notice when the mind wanders. That might be true initially. But getting into the habit of doing that—turning on the light in the mind and keeping it on—actually allows the mind to be much more at peace in the long term, rather than freely allowing the mind to wander and flood the plains all around us.

Intimacy with the Breath

One of the ways to develop this continuity of attention in the present moment is to stay with the breathing. As we do it, we want to be attentive enough to know what it feels like to truly be with the breathing, so we know what it is like when we have lost touch. That takes familiarity. It takes truly registering what the experience of staying present with the breathing is like.

We also want to notice what it is like when the mind begins to wander off. Notice how, when the mind wanders, there is a loss of intimacy with ourselves—a certain kind of intimacy with the breathing and our direct experience. When you are able to notice the mind wandering off, do not jerk the mind back or be upset with yourself. Instead, lovingly recognize, That's not what I'm doing now. I don't need to pick that up. That can be for later. Right now, I'm staying here with the breathing.

Don't follow the floods. Come back here. Stay inside, and stay with yourself and the breathing. As we develop more continuity with the breathing, the main point isn't so much the breathing itself. Rather, the main point is developing the mind's capacity to have continuous awareness of what is happening—to really be present for the experience of now. That opens up the floodgates for something deeper to flow: a deeper sense of aliveness, connection, and flow regarding the very changing nature of this life of ours. It allows us to really live in that river and find the freedom that is possible there. True freedom is not found when the waters break over the banks and flood the lands.

To practice continuity, I often use an image I discussed in the springtime that I connect with breathing: petting a cat. We don't pet a cat one hundred percent continuously, but we do it intermittently and continuously. We stroke the cat, lift our hand up, bring it back to the front of the cat, and stroke it again. It is the same thing with the breathing. Don't expect it to be absolutely continuous. We are coming back and stroking the breath, or being stroked by our breathing—being stroked by the inhales and exhales. Allow yourself to feel and experience that in an intimate, close way until something inside begins to purr.

Whenever we need to remember to come back, we just contentedly come back to the breathing. The mind wanders off, and we contentedly come back to stroke the cat, stroke the breath, or be stroked by the breathing.

Practical Techniques for a Wandering Mind

If the mind is strongly pulling itself into discursive thought, one of the great ancient techniques is to spend a little time counting your breath. You might want to keep it really simple and count one to three. You can count one on every exhale: one, then the next exhale is two, then three, and then start over again. Or, some people will say one for the inhale, one again for the exhale; two for the next inhale, two for the exhale; three for the inhale, three for the exhale. This gives the thinking mind something to do rather than wandering off in thought.

A more strictly Vipassana^[1] technique that is closer to mindfulness than counting is to simply name or label with a mental note: in as you are breathing in, out as you are breathing out. Or, rising as the belly or chest rises, and falling as it falls. That little note keeps you on track. You might notice that when you stop counting or stop making the note, you begin to wander off again.

This is part of the nuts and bolts of meditation that we want to develop and strengthen over time. The way that is done is by practicing it over and over again, with a lot of generosity toward yourself, a lot of forgiveness, and a lot of non-striving. Just start over and over again, truly developing the capacities we have. We have tremendous capacities for practice that will naturally grow if you just keep doing it. Let mindfulness of breathing support the development of continuous attention. Be truly here in your experience. Thank you.