A few weeks ago, I participated in my first ever 7-day silent retreat. It was an extraordinary journey of self-discovery. The space and time and freedom from daily commitments allowed me to lean into some challenging thoughts I had been actively pushing hard against (resisting!), reconnect with spaces from deep within my past and to release long-help beliefs that no longer serve (such as the relentless pursuit of achievement), and also loads of aching for my loved ones at home.
Non-identifying
‘sadness is here’
‘fear is hear’
‘overwhelm is here’
This is the technique of non-identifying with thoughts and experiences. When strong emotions are present, I may have told myself, “I am sad, I am scared, I am overwhelmed.” I had believed these phrases brought enough space between me (who I am as a person) and the feelings. I had already understood this to be a step up from thoughts from my past of this was a step up from previous thoughts of “I am a sad person…etc.”). On this retreat I was supported to identify how these thoughts can feel intensely real, often provoking a visceral response (churning stomach, frowning, headache). Sitting with these feelings for longer periods enabled me to eventually experience their impermanent nature. These are just feelings being experienced in the moment. Just a part of the ever-changing, always growing person I am. They do not solely define me. Knowing this offered a sense of relief, a little bit of hope, and even comfort. I am also more aware how these feelings can relate to past causes, conditions and experiences and the heaviness of past hurts and memories arising. Blending stories into my present moment experience can intensify the emotion. As I work to deepen my practice, I can feel myself become more attuned to identify these feelings, to take that step back and recognise them for what they are. I do not need to get carried away by them, I can just gently look beyond these feelings with some helpful guiding questions.
‘What else is here right now?’
‘Can I experience this and not suffer?’
These questions helped me to uncover a sense that my suffering originated from wanting the situation to be different to what it is. For example, I noticed feeling fidgety in longer meditation sits. I began asking myself ‘can I feel restless without suffering?’ Yes, slowly I came to figure out how. I let go of the desire to be constantly still (a preconceived idea of “master meditator”) and listened to my body. I gave myself permission to move and find a sense of ease, relief. I let go of the struggle and accepted how I was feeling. I even opened my eyes and spent spacious and empowering moments noticing what else was also breathing around me.
In discovering this, I also thought of my children. Oftentimes they can have low moments, when emotions are high. They might say they are sad, angry, feel like they don’t belong. Of course, I want to jump straight in and take away their suffering. But in that moment, just like me, they need to know (and I need to remember), this is a passing feeling, just a part of them. It does not define them. It is not their identify. Railing against their reality is only going to initiate my own threat system (argh, stress is here!) and perhaps intensify theirs. And it also gave me insight that what comes out of their mouth in the heat of the moment, is not to be taken personally. (Perhaps also another interesting reminder also for when my own critical mind is screaming to be heard.
To think in terms of either pessimism or optimism
oversimplifies the truth.
The problem is to see reality as it is.
-Thích Nhất Hạnh
Getting familiar with the familiar
Did you know, on average people have 12,000 to 60,000 thoughts a day? And many of them we have had before. Many are filtered through our strong prehistoric protective negativity bias. Some thoughts sound like a broken record, repeating again and again. On retreat, in silence, I had an opportunity to notice some of these. I brought a playfulness to it giving some of my thoughts names and identities. Meet the gang:
Perfect Prue. This is the voice of my inner critic. She’s a real bitch with her icy, nasty comments about how I am inferior, don’t belong, not good enough. You get the idea. She sneaks into my mind unannounced, sets up camp, constantly poking with her hurtful barbs.
Planning Patricia. She pops up with a notepad, pen poised to get things in order for possible future events. Often, I was sitting in meditation and planning what I would do once it had ended, or how I might guide a meditation in a possible future course, or what I might say on the oft chance I meet some famous wisdom guru. Patricia’s voice was the one that was loudest. And I realised this makes sense. Maybe she originated to counterbalance the uncertainty that pain can bring (desperately clinging to an element of control when things feel ferociously disorderly. She’s is trying to protect me from the unknown. To be prepared! On retreat, her voice would quieten if I actually gave myself space and time to rest, to feel, to listen. All the buzzing activity of day-to-day life has enabled this planning mind to become overactive.
Playful Petuna. Well, this one I liked a lot. She was the whimsical one who liked to create mischief and remind me not to take the world too seriously. Her suggestions are the ones that might break with convention or allow me to step out of the shackles of worrying what people might think. She likes to get all Richard Branson and has the catch cry, “screw it, just do it”.
Soothing Suzy. She’s quite a reluctant voice (maybe because of frequently being ignored or dismissed) but, on retreat, she found her voice. She would encourage me to place a hand over my heart. She suggested opting for self care and for being over doing. She has helped me calm Patricia and Prue with kindness.
And I am sure there are many other common voices that I have not yet discovered. Getting to know some of these common thoughts also helped to bring a bit of non-identifying as well. I am not Patricia, or Prue or Petunia or Suzy. These are just parts of me, arising and passing away, always changing. Getting to know them, allowing them to be here has helped me soften towards them and maybe, just maybe, these voiced don’t need to shout so loud anymore. I don’t need to latch on and jump to their every command. When I chose to arrive, home, here, now, there’s room for all.
“The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in. – Rumi