brian practice notes 2

Once I understood this approach in the case of hearing, I applied it to other senses. The most meaningful was applying it to the sense of touch. I saw that superimposed on top of the raw tactile sensations of the body there is a subtle mental image of what it looks like, like a thin coating of mental paint. Normally this is experienced as being identical with or inseparably infused with the tactile sense of the body, but I could see now the difference. There are also many subtle, unspoken understandings attached to the tactile body: this is my body, which exists in a certain spatiotemporal and motivational context (recently I've been doing such and such, now I am doing so and so in this meditation hall with the intention of doing this and that). Also attached were subtle evaluations of the body and mind, e.g. regarding how the meditation was going. This whole conglomeration of mental imagery, implicitly felt understandings, evaluations and so on was clearly all associated from or built on top of the sense of touch, was clearly just a bunch of mental associations cobbled together like a net, and was clearly my sense of self. It seemed like its own separate body so I took to thinking of it as the "mental association" body, as opposed to the raw sensory experience of the tactile body.

I recently did a one week retreat. The most important thing that happened was during a group Q&A session where a teacher said we should come into contact with the sound of a bird chirping outside, rather than the idea of the bird. Someone asked how to do that. The teacher said: see what it is like to experience the sounds of the bird, see what it is like to experience the idea of the bird, and see the difference between the two.

Doing this, I noticed a sharp distinction between the direct auditory experience "chirp, chirp" and the mental associations automatically generated from that experience: a subtle mental image of a particular kind of bird in a tree outside the meditation hall (which had been partially reconstructed from memory), the subtle, unspoken but implied understanding "this is a bird", the pleasantness of the song, etc.

Two things that had held me back from seeing this clearly: 1, ambiguity of words like "idea" and "concept". Yogis are often advised not to get caught in ideas and concepts, but those words mean different things to different people. Imprecise language causes so much unnecessary confusion. 2, the notion that one needs to see these things unfold in real time, with millisecond precision. I do not think this is true. You don't need to see the fire before it makes smoke in order to see "this is fire, this is smoke, this is the difference." You don't need to see a building being made to see the bricks it is made out of.

When I can see it clearly, the mental association body feels phantasmagorical and derivative upon the tactile body, like a fine mist hovering above a lake. I notice that it tends to interact with other things on the level of mental associations. So for instance the mental association body tends to engage with the mental associations built on top of other sensory experiences (like the sights and sounds that are constructed into the mental object "car") rather than engaging with raw sensory experience itself, like two patches of the mist that mingle with eachother but do not penetrate the lake.

This is also true in social experience. My mental association body interacts with the construct of mental associations built on top of the sights and sounds of other people. This is experienced as the other person's personality or overall vibe. The mental association body is the scaffold on which hang the social emotions like shame or guilt. When the mental association body cringes or contracts from such a negative encounter so does the tactile body.

A couple of times the mental association body has become especially transparent and for a brief flash it feels as though existence has momentarily abated from the confusion that it is "me", this mental association body.

A couple of times I have also been going through internal dramas involving great conflict and strife, only to suddenly see that what is bothering me so much is the grinding together of two mental association constructs, a mental association construct being a set of perceptions, beliefs, feelings, memories, ideals and so forth that are all interconnected and seem to constitute a single glob or conglomeration of mental stuff, kind of like the mind's dustbunnies or tumbleweeds. For instance, one might encapsulate perceptions about how things are going at work and another might encapsulate notions of (in)justice and what things should be like. This is like the grinding together of two great glaciers and the grinding is what causes suffering. But suddenly seeing that all of this is the case, the massive glaciers become more phantasmagorical like the aforementioned dust bunnies. I see this is all being staged in my own mind and that I don't have to worry so much about it, like suddenly realizing I'm watching a play that I myself am putting on but am not obligated to continue. Then the glaciers evaporate and stress is relieved. While I know there is still potentially an issue there that needs to be addressed, I also see that I don't have to suffer so needlessly over it.

i relate to a lot of this, but I have two questions which may simplify things -
1. isn't the mental image not "superimposed" but rather a separate object? and only seems superimposed because it comes so fast after first object?
2. do you agree that a lot of what you described vanishes once you see it for what it is?

1. Depends on what you mean exactly by "object", but I don't think it's contradictory to say that one object can be superimposed on top of another.

By superimposed, I mean (a) that the subtle visual mental image of the body seems to occupy the same region of space as the outermost, surface tactile sensations of the body, and (b) the mental image seems to be built "from" or "out of" the tactile sensations, i.e. the tactile sensation is the primary object and the mental image is automatically generated in the mind as something associated with that tactile sensation. You can tell this because e.g. placing attention on the tactile sensation with eyes closed tends to intensify the associated mental image as a result. If it is consistently the case that when you place attention on X the mind presents you with Y, then Y is a mental association of X.

2. Maybe sort of, but only indirectly. For instance in the example above of the internal drama, seeing that what was really going on was the clashing of these sets of mental associations, they don't suddenly disappear. Rather they lose their sense of being substantive, important things that I really am forced to engage with by external circumstances. Instead they are experienced as whispy mental constructs that are only in the internal domain of the mind, and so I am free to entertain or abandon as I will. If they vanish after that it's only because I no longer feel compelled to fixate on them slavishly and the mind just spontaneously goes elsewhere.

On the other hand, if I am in the middle of a sit I may get to a point where I can clearly see the set of whispy mental associations built on top of tactile sensations. But since I am taking that as my meditation object and am interested in it, it does not vanish but persists in experience even though it has this whispy ephemeral nature.

okay, that is complicated!
I still think the mental image is a separate object but I'll agree to disagree

I never said it was or wasn't a separate object. It depends what you mean by "object."

You did an IMS vipassana retreat, right?
Did they talk about mind and body, cause and effect, A&P, dark night, etc? the three characteristics?
just curious

They talked about various kinds of experiences one might associate with various stages of the progress of insight and skillful ways to deal with them but they didn't talk explicitly about any maps or models. I don't think that is a bad thing though, it just amounts to a difference in emphasis and presentational style. Of course I am coming from the perspective of having already been introduced to such things, so who knows.

but --
if you know where you are you know what to do so that you can become enlightened before you die
why doesn't everyone have that sense of urgency?
see Kenneth's "cut to the chase"
I'm not arguing with you, man, I just don't get the mushroom culture at all
if I just wanted to learn how to be a better person and be peaceful I'd just go to my christian church
okay, back to your notes, sorry

I think you are making a lot of assumptions and logical leaps by painting IMS with the broad brush of "mushroom culture" just on the basis of our limited discussion so far. I can't say what IMS is like from the point of view of the 'average' practitioner, let alone what the best way is to train a yogi. I can only go by the experiences I had when I went there. For me it was great, gave me a lot of things I needed in the dharma, and I would like to go back again some time. And I mean all of that not in the sense of just being a better and more peaceful person, but in terms of making legitimate progress on the path. I went there thinking that it would just be a good way to get in a lot of practice and that I wouldn't get a lot out of the teachers; I was mistaken.

My own experiences may have depended a lot on my somewhat unique 'practical dharma' background, but maybe not. My subjective impression is that detailed knowledge of the maps was not relevant or useful at all for this retreat. What was relevant was that I knew to expect that a lot of alluring pleasant things and aversive unpleasant things would happen but that that shouldn't stop me from practicing my best at every moment of the day, no matter what. The source of that motivation is knowing that enlightenment is possible.

Again, hard for me to say, but I think the teachers at the retreat covered those bases: don't get swept away by good and bad things, but keep investigating your experience, and here's how to do it; don't stop doing it, keep going; because the result is a happiness that is not dependent on conditions.

"I think you are making a lot of assumptions and logical leaps by painting IMS with the broad brush of "mushroom culture" just on the basis of our limited discussion so far. I can't say what IMS is like from the point of view of the 'average' practitioner, let alone what the best way is to train a yogi. I can only go by the experiences I had when I went there. For me it was great, gave me a lot of things I needed in the dharma, and I would like to go back again some time. And I mean all of that not in the sense of just being a better and more peaceful person, but in terms of making legitimate progress on the path. I went there thinking that it would just be a good way to get in a lot of practice and that I wouldn't get a lot out of the teachers; I was mistaken.

My own experiences may have depended a lot on my somewhat unique 'practical dharma' background, but maybe not. My subjective impression is that detailed knowledge of the maps was not relevant or useful at all for this retreat. What was relevant was that I knew to expect that a lot of alluring pleasant things and aversive unpleasant things would happen but that that shouldn't stop me from practicing my best at every moment of the day, no matter what. The source of that motivation is knowing that enlightenment is possible.

Again, hard for me to say, but I think the teachers at the retreat covered those bases: don't get swept away by good and bad things, but keep investigating your experience, and here's how to do it; don't stop doing it, keep going; because the result is a happiness that is not dependent on conditions."

okay, sorry

A primary function of the mental contents associated with raw sensory experiences seems to be one of interpretation, ordering, making sense. i.e. constructing a model of the world on the basis of raw sensory experience.

There is way more construction and interpretation going on than is obvious at first sight. I think the easiest way to notice this is to observe the level of (almost unwarranted) detail and precision in the models the mind makes just from sounds, with eyes closed. It's almost like a Sherlock Holmes thing where you're amazed at the vast sweeping conclusions that are drawn from such meager pieces of evidence.

Another good place to catch the mind in model-making mode is when it suddenly changes the model based on new evidence. Recent examples for me:

* in the meditation hall, eyes closed, hear the sound of breathing. automatically "see" in mental imagery where the person is sitting, who they are, etc. open eyes and see no one is there! just the wind.

* sitting on park bench, eyes closed, hear the sound of a bicycle. automatically "see" the biker drifting slowly past in the pavement in front of me. listening a little longer-- nope, it's a car. mental image spontaneously shifts accordingly.

* holding foot out to stop a heavy door from closing, but looking elsewhere. waiting, waiting... whoa, not here yet. unusually slow to close. realize in retrospect that I had "seen" a mental image of the door closing at the expected rate the whole time, and had subtle muscle movements in response.

The point of catching the mind in these moments is to realize more and more that it's ALL like that. Everything around me that seems so clearly "out there" and solid is of the same status, a mental model, fabricated, constructed, made up. edit: including "me".

Sitting the other day, mind was wandering. Came back to the sound of a car driving by. Caught the mind creating a sense of "this sound is coming from the car." ah, but mind, the reverse is true. First came the sound, then came the model where the sound was attributed to a car, then came the mental imagery and felt sense of understanding "this is a car".

Naive realism is dependent origination in reverse. It seems like raw sensory sensations are coming from external objects. But in reality, the sense of external objects is built out of raw sensory sensations.

Sitting in a quiet park, I noticed an asymmetry in the sense of space. There seemed to be a big ball of space in front of the body, corresponding to the visual world. Space seemed to "end" at the back of my body. This remained true when I closed my eyes: still that big ball of space in front, now inhabited by very subtle mental images of what I remembered being there. Still no sense of space behind the body.

Then a dog barked from behind, and tada: space. I had a sense of space behind me, in the spatial region attributed to the source of the bark. When it got quiet again, sense of space behind my body vanished again.

Later on, standing in the shower with my back to the water, I closed my eyes and checked my mental imagery. Space all around! Sense of space behind me due to the noise of the water behind me and the mental imagery associated with it.

In a dark room, there is always the potential to see objects, but they can only be seen when illuminated. It seems similar with space. There is always the potential to have a sense of space somewhere with respect to the body, but only when that region of space is 'illuminated' by some sensation that seems to have a spatial location, such as a sight or a sound.

That mental mapping software is very cool isn't it?

"
That mental mapping software is very cool isn't it?

"

Yes, and it's everywhere. The Matrix has me.

It's been a little over three weeks since then and there definitely seems to be a lasting change that is far more salient than previous ones. Let me tell a little story first: some years ago I went through a terrible bout of recurring panic attacks. At the time I was also addicted to smoking. I noticed that stimulants (caffeine and nicotine) made me more likely to have panic attacks and so for a time I became averse to them. Then there was this remarkable moment where I had a habitual thought to buy a new pack of cigarettes, but the thought had lost all of its addictive force. It was like I was suspended in zero gravity, just floating there with the thought, and I could make a choice whether to buy the pack or not completely free of the influence of any urge or compulsion. In that moment I decided not to buy the pack, and that was the beginning of the end of my smoking habit.

There is an analogous kind of gravity that is with us at all times of the day, forces pushing and pulling and prodding us to do this or worry about that. I experience things like this most keenly at work and when around other people, being somewhat shy and sensitive to social evaluation. For most of my life I've tried to overcome that gravity by force and retreat, building bigger muscles to push back on it and then escaping when it became too much. But that is an exhausting and oftentimes ineffective way of being. Since the end of the retreat, it feels like the gravity of the planet I'm on is lighter. Things have the same mass but the pull of their mass is far weaker. I still frequently get tripped up in poor habits and so on, but still far less frequently than I used to. When I am pulled in by a habit, it pulls me down to a shallower level and I remain there for a shorter period of time. Things that I used to get bothered by terribly and dwell upon, I am not so bothered by. On the whole I can work and be around people in a saner and more effective way.

After, I also noticed a discontinuity with something that had been present before but hadn't been fully noticed or appreciated but now was absent. It was a kind of strict, stern, or driving feeling about needing to put everything into this meditation and do it right, that sort of thing. Actually I had been having problems with trying too hard earlier in the retreat, but after some good guidance from the teachers I loosened up and found a real sweet spot with effort. I thought I had already shaken loose of that overbearing self-evaluation, and largely I had, but evidently there was still a good bit of it left that remained until the fruition.

After the fruition it felt like the release of a heavy weight that you have carried so long that you forgot you were carrying it. It was like a sudden realization accompanied by a freeing feeling like, "wait a minute-- I don't *have* to do this." It's not that I thought I didn't have to meditate-- I continued doing so. Just something very deep yet subtle about the attitude I brought to it changed. There was a feeling of peace that is hard to describe. It was neither mundane nor profound. It was deeper and more significant than the sorts of peace one usually encounters in precious moments of everyday life. But it was not some extraordinary, in-your-face cosmic peace either. It was "just so," light and sweet and needing nothing else. For a while afterwards the physical movements of walking had the same character, a kind of relaxed ease and flow of movement in a way I'd never quite walked before. Usually after what I think of as fruitions there is either no remarkable feeling or some degree of bliss, but never such a simple and satisfying peace like this.

(con't)

Near the end of my recent week-long retreat, during a 2 hour sit, I had a fruition. It was different from other ones I (believe) I have had. Usually they are pretty non-descript blips. They sometimes are more obvious when a certain prevailing experience (e.g. buzzing in the body) suddenly gets completely and discontinuously erased, like a reset button. Sometimes they are followed by a wave of pleasant sensations (I guess the "bliss wave"). One in particular stood out from the others, it had a darkness that spread from the center of vision outwards and had a kind of bouncy feel to it around the face. Afterwards I felt a really deep, divine kind of existential bliss and for some time afterwards felt more comfortable in my daily surroundings.

This new one felt "darker" than usual and somehow more complete or all-encompassing than usual. It also seemed to have a "center" of contraction somewhere around the heart or the center of the body. There were a couple of before/after discontinuities. Before, the tactile sense of the body was prominent and felt like an elevated or swollen topographic part of space. After, the tactile body sense was back to normal, more of a smooth continuum with the sense of space.

(con't)

Lately I sometimes get this odd sense that on top of my tactile body, where the head should be, there is the visual field instead. Like I am a kind of perceptual field with the visual world plunked on top of a tactile body. The visual field feels projected onto the tactile face area, like the face is a screen on which all this visual stuff is projected or received. But simultaneously the visual field still seems "out there" and there is a feeling of an openness or interchange of stuff flowing in from "out there" and flowing out from "in here".

I also notice that the visual field is pervasively imbued with a subtle sense of tactile-ness. The visual field itself is just a 3D moving picture. But each content in that picture has a reflexive but subtle mental association of touch. I think this is why things "look solid". That phrase is an expression of the deep tactile undercurrent threaded through every visual experience.

I think this is hard to notice in part because everytime you touch a visual object, there is a tactile sensation. It's like the refridgerator light illusion-- every time you look in the fridge the light is on, so it seems like it's always on. Everytime you touch an object there is a touch sensation, so it begins to seem like the touch sensation is always (subtly) there. But in the visual field is just the visual field-- a moving 3D picture. The remainder is stuff added onto it by mental association.

Brian,

Whoa! I think I know what you are talking about. Check out post 175 of my journal (page 9), I think I got a similar insight a couple of weeks ago.

hi mumuwu,

It does seem like there are some similarities there. I also sometimes experience a layer of mental imagery associated with the sensations of touch associated with external visual perception, which sounds similar to another phenomenon you mention in that post.

practice and life update:

Things have been a little choppy lately. To extend the gravity metaphor: if the gravity on your planet is halved, formerly heavy things become light, and some unliftable things become liftable. But there is still some threshold of tolerance and ability: you will not be able to lift a car because it weighs 1 ton instead of 2. And protracted effort in trying to lift such a weight will make you feel a lot weaker when you get back to the more manageable ones. You might even be so weak that it feels as though the full heaviness of gravity has returned.

That is to say, lately I got caught up in some bad mental habits (about anxiety, doubt, overexertion, narrow attentional focus etc relating to work projects). The force of those habits are like the weight of the car. At times it feels like no lasting progress or change in my mind and habits has been enacted after all. At other times, when I have some distance and time to recoup and regather myself, it does seem that I am able to do so in a somehow more skillful and deep way than previously. How so? The depth and duration of the lingering aftereffects seems mitigated, and I seem to be able to bear what unpleasant or troubling things remain a little better.