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Questioning (3 of 5): Resistance to Questioning

On these mornings here, or whatever time of day it might be for you, I've been exploring the topic of questioning, or inquiry. Today I want to talk a little bit about some resistance that might be there. Of course, there's a number of reasons why there might be some resistance.

Maybe one reason is we might have the idea that meditation should only be about just being with the experience. There's a lot of wisdom in that, and that's a beautiful practice. But I would also say that part of our meditation practice is to learn to have some malleability, some flexibility, some openness. So we might just gently inquire: do we have some rigidness and lack of flexibility in the ways that we think about our practice, what practice should be, and how it should not be? Or maybe we just have some preferences—that practice should only unfold in a way that's in accordance with our natural inclinations.

It's a little bit funny that I'm saying that, because some of you may know that I'm trained as a research scientist. Maybe it's my inclination to be questioning, to be investigating, to have some curiosity, so I bring this to my meditation practice, to my spiritual practice, and perhaps some of you have a similar inclination. The invitation is for practice to expand the ways that we think about it, and not only follow our preferences or what's easy or natural for us. There might be times in which we need something more, in which we find ourselves being stuck, or we find ourselves with some real difficulties in which our regular practice isn't providing as much support as we would like.

In my view, it's helpful to have some familiarity with different ways of practicing. Then, of course, we can have one practice that seems the best, and that is in accordance with what our teacher is saying. But my encouragement is to just notice if we have any tightness or holding about how things should be, and to stretch ourselves a little bit to explore different ways. I would say that meditation practice is so much about having some flexibility, and not some brittleness.

Maybe another reason why we might have some resistance is that, in some kind of way, our culture is beholden to authority, so that questioning is not encouraged. In some ways, we pride ourselves on independence and having a "Wild West cowboy" way of showing up in the world. We have a little bit of that archetype in contemporary times, but at the same time, our culture is beholden to authority. There's plenty of dogmatism and fanaticism, and this discouragement of questioning and investigation. Instead, there's a strong expression of opinions as if they were a fact.

Maybe this discouragement to examine bleeds out into other areas of our life. After hearing that, or growing up in a family or traditions that have this discouragement of questioning, it might, unbeknownst to us or behind the scenes, affect the way that we approach our meditation practice. Having this inquiry or questioning doesn't feel quite right. Of course, we want to believe that somebody else has all the answers. But I want to encourage us to recognize that we also have answers—we know ourselves better than anybody else. Might there be a way in which we do not give away our authority to others, while at the same time recognizing that others have wisdom and perhaps more experience?

I like the expression "the art of practice" to recognize that it's not just one way or another. It's noticing that there might be times in which questioning the teacher, questioning our practice, or questioning our beliefs is really helpful. And there might be times in which we follow the rules of a teacher, the suggestions of a teacher, or the tradition as a way to support us. How do we find our way with both of these? That's part of the art of practice.

Another reason why questioning might feel uncomfortable, or why there might be some resistance to it, is if the inner critic is really active. This inner critic sometimes shows up as a sub-personality inside of us that's putting us down, belittling us, judging us, blaming ourselves, and nagging at ourselves. It maybe has a feeling of harshness to it. When the inner critic is really active and we don't recognize it as being what it is—just a collection of beliefs that aren't necessarily the truth—they may be so familiar that we don't even question them.

The types of questions that the inner critic asks are often questions that aren't helpful. These are questions like, "Am I doing it right?" asked in a way that has a flavor of shame or negativity to it. Asking, "Am I doing it right?" can have this deadening effect on our practice. It can make us feel tight and constricted, like, "I have to do it right, or else something terrible might happen." Or maybe the inner critic asks questions like, "Who am I to question my experience? Who am I to question the teachings or the teacher?" in a way that belittles us and takes away some of the self-respect, honor, and dignity that we all have. Or maybe the inner critic has this attitude: "Well, surely everybody else knows more than I do, so I shouldn't be asking questions. I should just be getting answers from others."

If the inner critic is active, one way to work with it is with kindness. It's with some warmth. We don't need to be critical of the inner critic, and we don't have to be judgmental. Can we have this affectionate curiosity about that experience, or can we have attention with a quality of befriending? We might even ask a question if we hear that the inner critic has some unspoken belief about, "Who am I to question?" or "Am I doing it right?" We can ask the question, "Is that true?"

Asking it with a sense of warm-heartedness and care: is it true that everybody else might know the answers, but we don't? Is it true that we have no right to question? Something else about working with the inner critic is asking, "Can we just let it be there?" Okay, yes, there's that experience. I'm also experiencing the pressure of the chair cushion against my body, I'm also hearing sounds, and then there's this sub-personality beneath us that is being critical, that's having us have some resistance to asking questions. Asking the question, "What is this?"

Lastly, there might be some resistance to asking questions because there might be a type of inner inertia. That is a wish to just sink into a soft, cottony place where there's a little bit of dullness, and we don't want it to be disturbed. Questions seem to bring a little bit of energy, and we kind of want to sink into that. To be certain, there are times in which we need to refuel, we need to be nourished, and we need to rest. But we'll find that that can be a dead end—to just sink into a dullness, a stupor, a lack of freshness. Questioning is a way to bring some brightness, some energy, and some newness to our experience.

I'm reminded of a story that the tradition holds. Māra^[1]—the personification of all obstacles, difficulties, hindrances, or obstructions to greater and greater freedom—goes to the Buddha while he's sitting underneath the Bodhi tree. He has this intention to become awakened, and he's sitting there with all of his being intent on finding the way to the end of suffering. Māra shows up and says, "Who are you to think that you can become awakened?"

And for me, this is such a beautiful thing: the Buddha touches the earth. He does this gesture—just like this Buddha here touches the earth—and it says, "The earth is my witness." I don't remember exactly what he says, or even if he did say something, but I like this idea of this gesture of touching the earth. Might there be a way in which we can have this gesture to reclaim our nobility or dignity, to have that with some openness, and to ask, "What is this?" with a kind-hearted warmth, with some care? What is this?

In this way, questioning could be an integral part of our practice. Maybe it's something that we use when we're experiencing difficulties, or maybe it's a regular stance that we take. However we use it, may it be of support and help. Not as a way to undermine our stability or what we hold dear, but as a way to help keep us open, to counter inertia with movement forward and energy. In this way, might it be of support for us, and of course, support for others those we come in contact with, and those that they come in contact with. So that our practice may be for the benefit of all beings. Thank you.