Guided Meditation: Wise No; Dharmette: Hindrances and Assistances (2 of 5) Aversion or Averting

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The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on January 31, 2023. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Guided Meditation: Wise No

Hello everyone. Aware that in one way, many of you are spread out throughout the globe participating, and in another way, you are here at IMC in Redwood City, California, in our meditation hall. I'm happy to have you along, and to share this practice, this teaching, and this community together with all of us.

One of the things we do in classic Buddhism—and I think we do plenty enough in the modern world—is associate with, or sometimes treat, the mind almost like another person. Certainly, we identify with our mind, thinking, "This is who I am," but sometimes we relate to the mind as if it's almost another person. It’s not us, any more than—maybe I don't know if this is a good analogy, but after you cut off your fingernail clippings, those clippings are not quite you anymore. So there's a kind of freedom, an independence from the mind, upon which we can look at it. We can see it, we can relate to it, and we can be wiser than the parts of the mind that get us into trouble.

In that regard, sometimes it might be helpful to think of the mind as a child. Sometimes, children, in order to feel safe, need to have clear boundaries set. Usually, this is done with a compassionate but very clear statement of "no." One of our sons was much more aware and understanding of the world than we ever imagined when he was young, before he was verbal, when he was just a toddler. And he was somewhat afraid quite a bit. I think because he was so smart, he understood much more of what was going on, or much more of the dangers. But sometimes he would push against the limits of what was appropriate behavior, and it was necessary to say, "No, now you have to stop," or "We don't do that here." Sometimes these things have to be said very clearly and definitively.

It wasn't exactly my character to do that, so I had to learn to be able to say it. And the remarkable thing that I saw was that for a moment, he would look very frustrated and angry. But immediately afterwards, he became much more settled and happy. It's like now he knew how far he could go; he knew what he was supposed to do. Something about the world he didn't understand was understandable now. Maybe he was pushing the limits of things to understand better, "How does this world work?" And then a "no" would tell him, and he would just relax.

In the same way, our mind is like that sometimes. Sometimes practicing acceptance of it, or being compassionate to it, and allowing it to continue the way it's doing—sometimes that's exactly the right thing to do. And sometimes it's not the right thing. Sometimes what's appropriate is to say "no." "Stop, we're not going there. We're not doing that. We've had those thoughts, those feelings, those fantasies thousands of times. Thinking about them and ruminating about them doesn't help and doesn't lead anywhere. It's a waste of time to do it now for the thousand and first time. This train of thought, these ideas, desires, or aversions don't help anyone; it's not supportive and maybe even makes things worse." So the mind needs to hear a very clear line: "No, we don't do that."

How we tell the mind this, how we establish a strong "no" in practice, is not harsh, punitive, judgmental, or aversive. There is no hostility involved, just a clarity and definitiveness: "No, we don't stand behind this. This is not what we do." Sometimes it's phenomenally helpful in meditation, especially if you know what you're thinking about is nonsense or is just an old habit to continue ruminating about something.

So, the wise use of "no." The wise use of saying "no" and then averting the gaze—averting attention from what is not wise to what is wise. And for the purpose of meditation here, that is to focus on breathing in the present moment. Maybe for this meditation, if you'd like, you can experiment as I guide you with finding a way to appropriately, in a healthy way, say "no" to things which are not appropriate and not healthy.

Assume your meditation posture. If it's comfortable, close your eyes.

Begin with saying "yes." Yes to being here, in this body, at this time. Maybe take a few long, slow, deep breaths, and the exhale can be a long "yes." Here I am, this is the place. A clear reminder: here, now.

Let your breathing return to normal and scan through your body to see where you can relax: the face, the shoulders, the belly. You might gently, softly say "yes" to each little movement of relaxation. A "yes" where you allow yourself to appreciate and enjoy the benefit of relaxing.

And then also, maybe relaxing the thinking mind. Stepping away from thinking and ruminating, first with a gentle "yes" to relaxing, softening, and quieting the thinking mind. Maybe with each exhale. Then settling down on your breathing, gently, ever so softly. Maybe a gentle "yes," or a gentle, almost silent acknowledgment. It's a "yes" to the inhale, a "yes" to the exhale.

If you find yourself wandering off in thought frequently, experiment with saying "no," or "enough," or "stop." Or if it feels nicer to do so, you could say more politely, "This is not helpful, let's stop." "Enough now, we have something else to do." Something very brief.

You might try experimenting as you say the "no" to the thinking mind to do so at the top of the inhale, before you exhale. It might mean holding your breath slightly, so the shorter the statement is, the better. And after you've made your statement of "no," then relax and let go with the exhale. Saying "no" to thinking at the top of the inhale, and maybe enjoying quiet surfing on the exhale.

Is there anything at this moment that it would be useful, even compassionate, to say "no" to? "No" to your involvement with it.

And then, as we come to the end of the sitting, turn your attention outward to this suffering world, to the people that you care for, to the world you care for. Consider your love, your care, your kindness, your capacity to serve this world better. Is there anything that you have within you that you could compassionately say "no" to, that reduces obstacles to your love, to your care, to your kindness for this world?

In saying "no" to it, it makes more room for goodwill, for well-wishing, for kindness, for friendliness. May it be that this meditation we do supports us to be a friend of others, a friend of the world.

May all beings be happy. May all beings be safe. May all beings be peaceful. May all beings be free.

And may each of us contribute to this possibility as friends of the world.

Thank you.

Dharmette: Hindrances and Assistances (2 of 5) Aversion or Averting

Continuing today with the strategies for dealing with challenges. We have healthy strategies and unhealthy strategies. All too often, the unhealthy strategies—which are often our best efforts to cope with great difficulty—sometimes make the situation worse, or we spiral out. We get caught up in our reactivity to the challenges we have. Sometimes that reactivity, or the caught-upness, or what gets triggered in us, can be so strong that it can be overwhelming and challenging.

So, it's helpful if we develop a habit of looking at how we act in challenges with the questions: "What is my strategy here? What am I trying to do? How am I reacting or responding to this challenge that I have?" The Five Hindrances^[1] are often unhealthy strategies. We're trying our best to cope with a challenge, but we're often choosing a way which maybe can seem beneficial but actually is not.

This is particularly true with the second of the hindrances, which is often translated into English as aversion. In Buddhist English, we have to understand that when the word "aversion" is used, it doesn't mean simply the state of averting ourselves from something, but it's also the state of having a certain kind of hostility or ill will towards something. Sometimes the instinct to fight, the instinct to attack the challenge we have, can seem very productive, important, appropriate, or justified in the moment. Maybe it even accomplishes what we want, but it does so at a tremendous cost.

An example that I've used often—I apologize for repeating myself—is again back to my son when he was young. There were some times when my "no" to him used what I called my "strong voice." I'm afraid that I was pretty angry by the time I used it, but I felt like, "This has to stop." So I had a strong voice, and then he would stop. There were times when I said "no" to him and it was appropriate. It was helpful for him to hear that, and he would be happy afterwards; he knew the limits of what he could do, and he understood the world a little bit better. But when I used a strong voice, I would accomplish what I wanted to do, and I'd say, "Oh, that worked, that was good." But then sometime later, I heard him using the same voice for his younger brother. I thought, "Oh my, what have I done here? What kind of conditioning, what example have I given of what's appropriate in how to be with people?"

So, the long-term consequences of the strong voice, that kind of strong "no"—aversion—sometimes accomplishes what we want in the moment, but is not so healthy. It creates unhealthy relationships, perhaps. It is an attempt to take care of ourselves at times, but other times aversion or "no" doesn't really take care of ourselves. What it is taking care of is our desires, taking care of our conceit. We don't want that threatened in any way; we want to be able to do whatever we want. There's a whole world of strategy that comes into play with the second hindrance, with aversion, and we have to understand that this is a strategy we're trying to accomplish something in the world through.

Then the question is: is there a more healthy way of accomplishing this? Some of the same things, but a more healthy thing that we would want? The healthy side of aversion is averting. There is a healthy, appropriate turning away from things, stepping away from things. "I'm not going to say that. I'm not going to go into that. I'm not going to participate in this." But it isn't with hostility, anger, or shutting down. It's saying, "This is not working, and until somehow this can work better, I'm going to step back. I'm going to turn away."

There are all kinds of healthy turning away that we can do in our life and our strategies. Turning away so we can recover. Turning away so we can settle ourselves, discover ourselves, or understand how we've been impacted, so that later we might be able to—if it's appropriate—come back and have a conversation or deal with some issue. Rushing headlong into trying to take care of a problem that doesn't have to be taken care of in the moment isn't always best. Maybe there can be even a few minutes' wait so we can catch our breath, get a clear sense of what's happening, so we can find other strategies besides hostility, besides blaming someone.

Sometimes that hostility is directed to oneself, and that's just as important to address as when the blame is directed at others. The guilt, the shame—"Here I did it, I made a big mistake again." That kind of aversion, hostility, or criticism of ourselves is also a strategy trying to make things better, but it doesn't. Is there another way? Is there a way of recognizing, "Wow, that didn't work. Maybe I did say something I shouldn't have said, and I'm going to turn away from that. I'm not going to do that again. But I'm not going to attack myself. I'm not going to live under the weight of guilt or shame. I'm going to do something better. I'm going to say no to it, and in the future, I'm going to dedicate myself to doing better. I'm going to find a better way."

In Buddhism, we learn from the past just enough to be inspired and encouraged that there's a better way. "I'm going to find it. I'm going to do that. I'm going to say no to behavior which is not healthy, and try to find healthy ways of doing that."

There are definitely times when we want to learn to avert, times when we want to say "no." There's a way of saying "no" to someone that is not attacking them or telling them, "You're wrong, that can't be done." Instead, we say, "No, I can't participate in that. No, this doesn't work for me." Or, "If that's the way this conversation is going, I think that I need to step away a little bit and regroup, because this kind of conversation causes me to not come from my best place." Or to be clear, "I feel my anger coming up now, and I find that I don't want to talk from my hostility and my anger. Can we take a break? I'd like to go around the block and chill."

Then you come back and you still are very definitive and say, "No, this doesn't work. This is not right for me. Can we find a different way?" So we're definitive, we're clear, but we don't come from a place of hostility. The strategy we have is: "How can we find a way to be connected? How can we find a way to cooperate in this endeavor? How can we find a way to take care of myself in a definitive and clear way?" I stand up for myself, but no one is attacked, there is no hostility.

I've noticed sometimes in Buddhism, where we have the strong value of not acting with aversion, people misunderstand it to think they're never allowed to say "no," that they're never allowed to turn away or step away from something because, "Oh, that's aversion." That's not true.

There's a strategy of averting. That strategy can, in one direction, contain hostility and ill will. In the other direction, it contains wisdom; it contains non-ill will, not hostility. In the non-hostile way of saying "no" or averting, it's possible for that to be very definitive. Establishing clear limits of what you're going to participate in or what you're going to do can be done with love and kindness. It might not be reciprocated. People might misunderstand, but on one hand, that's their problem psychologically. For themselves, that's what they have to come to terms with. Many people are not going to do that. So then you have to decide if you explain to them more the impact of their actions, or maybe you see more clearly what they're capable of and what their tendencies are, and it gives you more information about how much you should step away, saying, "Oh, this doesn't work at all. I don't think we can find a way here now that I understand this person is kind of stuck in that particular thing."

One of the most important things I would like to suggest around this is that when we're challenged, take a little bit of time to consider: In relationship to the challenge, what are you trying to do? What are you trying to accomplish? And does the way you're trying to do that work? Is it healthy? Because many times in challenges, people are operating from gut reactions, sometimes with quick decisions or things that are not considered or thought out.

A Dharma life is one where we don't act impulsively. Sometimes you might act spontaneously, but we never act impulsively where we're acting from our reactivity. We take time to ask the question: "What am I trying to do here? What am I trying to accomplish? And is the way that I'm doing it for the welfare and well-being of everyone concerned?"

That, I think, is the real key of a Dharma process. How can we find a way that's the best for everyone involved in the conflict, even the people who are causing so much trouble? It does not mean we have to put up with it. It does not mean that we can't avert, step away, or be clear. But it's the notion that it's not "me versus you," but rather, "what's best for all of us?" You don't have to say that you're doing that, but that leads to long-term well-being. Hostility only leads to very short-term well-being at best.

So, ask yourself: What are you trying to do, and is the way you're doing it really healthy for you, for others, and for this world?

Thank you. We'll continue going through these strategies for challenges tomorrow.