brian practice notes 2

Normally it feels like there are two "arrows" of attention. One arrow points inwards, towards the mind and body. The other arrow points outwards, towards the external world. The opposite directions of these arrows seems to partition experience into two regions of attention. These regions seem to trade off of a common resource: if I attend more in the direction of the in-arrow, I must attend less in the direction of the out-arrow, and vice versa. This asymmetry further reinforces the sense of partition. Whatever content is pointed at by the in-arrow seems to be "me" or "mine". This is why thoughts usually seem to belong to me. This is especially the case in mind wandering or deep thinking: attentional resources flood towards the in-arrow, I feel caught up in or completely engaged by my own stream of thought, and the external world fades from experience.

It seems I am able to see mind and body as fully part of the whole field of sensations by changing the orientation of the arrows of attention. When this happens, there is only one arrow of attention pointing in one direction, towards all contents of experience. This removes the sense of asymmetry in attentional allocation between in and out. The one direction of the arrow, and the removal of the attentional asymmetry, removes the basis for a sense of partition in experience. Without the in-arrow pointing towards it and the out-arrow pointing away from it, thoughts no longer seem to be mine or generated by me. More generally, mind and body seem more aptly called "person" than "me", even if it is an intimately familiar person.

A couple of interesting things lately about the phenomenology of thought. When I am able to see mind and body as fully part of the whole field of sensations, thoughts no longer seem to belong to me or to be generated by me. What is it that seems to change the mine-ness of thoughts?

It seems to have something to do with changes in the frame-of-reference or perspective of experience. What differentiates one perspective from another? Something about attentional style. What differences in attentional style modulate the mine-ness of thoughts?

I asked myself questions like these to try to get a clearer understanding of the phenomenology. I am somewhat satisfied with this answer, which allows me to more clearly see the corresponding phenomenology:

(con't)

This is a very interesting observation. I would like to hear more about HOW you change the attentional arrows. Is it just a matter of inclining the mind one way or another?
One way to practice, for example, is to sit in the middle of some woods, say, and just listen to the silence that is beyond sound and watch the trees and surrounding landscape with as much attentiveness as possible, until the sense of having a physical body or being in any way separate from what is being observed vanishes completely. (Having had this happen a few times, I spent years trying to get these experiences back, earlier in life.) The problem with this approach, if it becomes the alpha and omega of a person's practice, is that the arrow never quite points inward, and therefore, in Kenneth's parlance, the yogi is embedded in a whole range of "interior" phenomena that have heretofore gone unexamined. (So in my earlier days as a yogi, I failed to examine the craving and attachment associated with my longing to get those experiences back. I was driven, but not investigating the sensations of drivenness, because my practice was outward-focused.)
By closing one's eyes and focusing solely on the interior dimension, I suppose one could miss out on what might be called unitive experiences with the nirmanakaya. Maybe the sense of partition is preserved as a result.
A person certainly could have the arrows focused outwardly while having the eyes closed, or inwardly while having them open. Your post has helped me to see this: I never have the attentional arrows focused outwardly in a one-pointed way while having the eyes open, for example. Great observation!

Hi Joel, glad you found the post useful.

You asked how I change the "attentional arrows". I see I might have given the impression that I somehow manipulate these attentional arrows directly. But actually the arrow-changing is a description of the what the difference between states feels like, rather than a description of the technique used to arrive at those states. Sorry if that was misleading.

When I experience the double-arrow changing to a single-arrow, it usually arises from a kind of re-framing of experience to note that mind/body sensations have the same status as other sensations.

It is like looking at a painting with a main character. Your first impression will be, "this is a painting about this character," and the character will seem distinct from, and more prominent than, the background.

But you can also see the painting this way: "these are drops and strokes of paint on a canvas, which from a distance give the appearance of being a painting about this character." Then the character loses his distinctness and prominence, and seems to be of the same status as the background: drops and strokes of paint.

I cannot make this happen at will, and in any case I have learned (and re-learned, many times) that it is not a good idea to try to make things like this happen. But it sometimes presents itself as available, like a locked door that sometimes opens a crack, in which case I can gently incline myself towards it.

I think developing the following things with vipassana makes this availability more likely to occur: getting in touch with what raw sensory experience feels like (Ingram's "drop to the level of bare sensations"); noticing how these raw sensations tend to associate and interconnect with eachother (dependent origination); and noticing that all these sensations are observed, and so they can't be the observer (not-self).

Thanks, Brian. Very helpful. I had indeed thought you were talking about the choices we make as far as whether we direct our attention outwardly or inwardly.

Hi Joel, just for clarity, I meant to indicate something subtle and persistent about the underlying structure of everyday consciousness itself, rather than choices we make within that framework. A balance scale always has two weighing pans, even if we weigh down one pan more than the other. The transition from "double-arrow" to "single-arrow" isn't like placing all of the weights on one pan of a balance scale, but rather, it's as if we fold the balance scale over itself so that the two pans hook into each other and become just one pan. i.e. it's not about how we distribute things between the two partitioned containers, but something about changing the nature of the containers themselves by seeing from a point of view that has no such partition.

I sometimes find the following practice a useful variation on vipassana.

I imagine that I am trying to communicate the contents of my experience to some imaginary observer. The observer starts off with no knowledge whatsoever of the contents of my experience. I can "show" the observer a content of experience by fully attending to it.

Essentially, the observer only knows those parts of experience that I myself am crystal clear about. So for instance, I may note "walking". OK, so the observer knows I'm walking. But that's not a whole lot of information! I may be walking leisurely or in a hurry. I may be inside or outside. I may have a spring in my step or be dragging my feet. I may be feeling shorts on my thighs and wind on my shins, or pants heavy and clinging from rain.

From the observer's point of view, all of these possibilities are consistent with "walking", and so the observer has no way of knowing which possible scenario is accurate. So I need to be very specific in order to give the observer a good idea of what exactly is going on: I am walking at this pace, the rhythm of thighs and knees and ankles and heels and toes is like this, there are such-and-such subtle feelings and intentions and preoccupations in the background of this walk, etc. I need to really narrow things down and be unrelentingly exact to give the observer a clear notion that I am doing just *this* and not any other *that* that is consistent with what I have communicated but not an accurate depiction of experience. So a vague, lazy notion of "walking" simply won't do: not nearly informative enough.

The primary virtue of this practice is that it makes it very clear what contents of experience have not yet been attended to clearly. These are just the parts of experience that the imaginary observer doesn't know about yet. They are the blanks that need filling in.

(con't)

The reason this is useful is that it is easy to fall under the illusion that we know something clearly when in fact we don't. It is easy to think we have our bases covered by noticing "walking" when in fact we have scarcely paid attention to walking at all. Unlike the imaginary observer, we have a huge gray area in experience, which is those contents which are known in a vague, shadowy, implicit way; those contents that we know are there, and we know will be clear if we only turn attention towards them, but yet remain indeterminate and unattended most of the time; or even those contents that are there but have been forgotten or overlooked due to their constant presence.

It is sometimes hard to notice these gray areas of experience as gray areas and thus come to shine the full light of attention on them. For the imaginary observer, there are no gray areas: it is just what is known clearly and nothing else. The dichotomy makes it easier to bring things out of the shadows and into the light.

For instance: as I sit I notice there is the sense of a body, and a mind, situated in the center of a 3D space, changing with time. There is a subtle sense of intending to communicate an idea, a silent waiting, a subtle feeling of having found the right words, a translation into fingers moving over a device with symbolic markings on each button. A subtle feeling of expectation with every keypress that the corresponding letter will appear on the screen, and a subtle satisfaction when the expectation is met. All of these very basic features of experience I might have missed, had I not made it a point to start off from an imaginary perspective of knowing *nothing* about my experience, and then examining it very closely to fill in every blank.

Nice, Brian. I like that a lot.

In recent weeks the limiting and distorting aspects of the conceptual schema I bring to practice have become very obvious.

On the practice side this stems largely from maps and models: expectations of what will or should be happening with my practice, what I should be doing or experiencing in this moment, a subtle kind of temptation to pigeonhole or shoe-horn anything I experience into some learned category of experience or state or stage. These are all very subtle yet persistent and insidious obstacles to simply seeing what is here, now, exactly as it already is. There is the temptation to evaluate experience against the maps (wow, progress! or hmm, still here?), or steer it in the direction it "should" be going, or to distort it so that this square peg of experience fits into one of the round holes of the map categories.

There is a similar conceptual schema that comes with participating in this community. There are notions of the prevailing belief systems in place, and the negative social consequences of rubbing up against those belief systems. There is a notion of what might comprise "good" or "bad" conduct, what sort of thing might be the "right" or "wrong" thing to say, and what might be "favorable" or "unfavorable" ways to present my practice results and evolving thoughts on the dharma. There are subtle forces at play that tend to shape what I refrain from saying, and how I say what I do say, in relation to all this.

That is not to say that all of this is inherently bad or avoidable, or that these conceptual schemas do not have their useful aspects as well. But it is useful, and eye-opening, to come directly face-to-face with all the overt and covert, obvious and subtle, ways in which these conceptual frameworks of belief, expectation, and evaluation exert limiting, constraining, and distorting pressures on one's practice and ways of conduct.

"In recent weeks the limiting and distorting aspects of the conceptual schema I bring to practice have become very obvious.

On the practice side this stems largely from maps and models: expectations of what will or should be happening with my practice, what I should be doing or experiencing in this moment, a subtle kind of temptation to pigeonhole or shoe-horn anything I experience into some learned category of experience or state or stage."

I should add that expectation, comparison, and distortion of current experience come not only from maps and models, but also from recent experiences in my own practice, particularly the ones I crystallize by reporting them in my practice notes. There is a subtle, automatic pull towards trying to recapture or replicate a previous experience, or otherwise steer experience in that general direction, particularly when the current experience closely resembles a previous one. This is not a conscious, deliberative process, but a very subtle and reflexive one that is easy to miss if one is not observing closely. It seeps up through unnoticed cracks in the ground and sneaks in silently through the back door.

The more often and more clearly I see processes like this at work the more disdain I have for whatever forces are at work to create and support them. It is like the disillusionment one has for the corruption of politics or the legal system. There is a core ideal of honest inquiry into experience just as it already is which is stifled by various forces and pressures, internal and external, blatant and below the surface.

Practice recently is about relentlessly clearing away all this garbage until nothing remains but that core ideal of honest inquiry into experience just as it already is.

Awesome brian! That's a subtle one but you caught it and are now aware of it. Good good good!

I have been aware of it almost from the start, mumuwu. There are gradations of difference between suspecting it, knowing it, facing up to it, fully acknowledging it, dredging its full depths, and finally taking full and honest and decisive action about it, all forces to the contrary be damned.

Even better!

I'll rout that bastard too at some point!

What is difficult? asks the spirit that would bear much, and kneels down like a camel wanting to be well loaded. What is most difficult, O heroes, asks the spirit that would bear much, that I may take it upon myself and exult in my strength? Is it not humbling oneself to wound one's haughtiness? Letting one's folly shine to mock one's wisdom?

Or is it this: parting from our cause when it triumphs? Climbing high mountains to tempt the tempter?

Or is it this: feeding on the acorns and grass of knowledge and, for the sake of the truth, suffering hunger in one's soul?

Or is it this: being sick and sending home the comforters and making friends with the deaf, who never hear what you want?

Or is it this: stepping into filthy waters when they are the waters of truth, and not repulsing cold frogs and hot toads?

Or is it this: loving those who despise us and offering a hand to the ghost that would frighten us?

All these most difficult things the spirit that would bear much takes upon itself: like the camel that, burdened, speeds into the desert, thus the spirit speeds into its desert.

- Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

"The more often and more clearly I see processes like this at work the more disdain I have for whatever forces are at work to create and support them."-Brian

Good that you notice it. In and of itself, disdain is neither good nor bad. Make an ally of disdain. Note "disdain" and it immediately becomes fuel for your awakening. If you fail to note it, however, it can become a story to live in.

"It is like the disillusionment one has for the corruption of politics or the legal system. There is a core ideal of honest inquiry into experience just as it already is which is stifled by various forces and pressures, internal and external, blatant and below the surface." -Brian

Be sure to note "disillusionment," "honesty," "inquiry," "sincerity," "longing," "reflection."

"Practice recently is about relentlessly clearing away all this garbage until nothing remains but that core ideal of honest inquiry into experience just as it already is."

You don't have to clear anything away. That is a story that keeps you embedded in your experience. All the "garbage" that you imagine must be cleared away in order for you to awaken is itself the fuel for your awakening. Rather than waiting for an imaginary, garbage-free future, simply note your reaction to the garbage in this moment. This practice is much, much simpler than you are making it out to be.

What is your reaction to having been challenged like this? Note mind states now and be free. "Embarrassment, interest, annoyance, irritation, anger, fear, worry, shame, humiliation, indignation, hatred, self-loathing, wonder, joy, curiosity..." any or all of these may or may not arise momentarily upon reading my post. No one has to know but you, and it is a very individual matter. Note mind states in this moment and be free. Don't wait.

Thanks for your note Kenneth. It is my experience that practicing well, i.e. consistently seeing things clearly as they are, is not a free-floating ability but depends on certain conditions. For instance, if there is insufficient motivation, or an attitude of secretly wanting to get "there" instead of really being "here", such mental factors tend to work against good practice. One can always note "unmotivated" or "wanting", yes, but the overall tendency of such mental factors against good practice remains. One can roll a heavy boulder wherever one is standing, but trying to roll it up a hill is more difficult, and one is in increased danger of losing it entirely and letting it fall back. This is just the nature of things, or so it seems.

I am reporting a consistent finding from my practice-- it seems not so much a story as a repeatedly observed empirical reality. If X, then Y. My response to it is not to wait until the perfect conditions arise to practice, but rather to keep practicing while also working to create conditions that are even more favorable for practice. A jogger does not need to wait to buy well-padded sneakers to do their jogging, but it still seems like a good idea for them to save up money for a good pair of shoes even as they continue to run in the raggedy old ones in the meantime. Do you disagree? If so, what am I to make of what I seem to have learned from direct experience through practice?

I have observed a repeating pattern in my practice experience. What happens is this. I develop some ideas or techniques that help support and motivate my basic vipassana practice. I communicate these ideas and techniques. Then I am told that I am making things too complicated and this is all unnecessary. As a result, for a short time I develop an aversion to the ideas or techniques that help support and motivate my practice. No longer entertaining the things that support and motivate my practice, I lose motivation to practice. I practice less frequently, for shorter periods of time, and lose practice momentum. I am also wracked by the internal conflict of trying to abandon the very things I know will help me to practice. As a result I suffer greatly and even lose focus in my affairs in everyday life such as work and relationships. Eventually I work up the enthusiasm to come back to the practice, because it always calls me back. Then I begin to develop ideas and techniques to help support and motivate my practice, and the cycle continues. This is cycle number 4 or 5. It is not very helpful to keep having to go through this. At least I am getting better at bouncing back.

The way one practices is a matter of cause and effect. Some things help one practice well and consistently and other things hinder one's efforts at doing so. Each individual has their unique set of causes that will culminate in the effect of good, consistent practice. One cannot get the effect ("practice well and consistently") if one abandons one's idiosyncratic causes, even if those causes may be superfluous for most people and not strictly necessary to practice well. I can only walk the path that is available to me. The only alternative is to not walk it at all.

I feel you brian, I've definitely been there, to the point where I would be anxious to meet with kenneth because I was afraid he wouldn't be pleased with what I was doing.

Keep it up though, allow your practice to refine itself over time. There is only one truth and it'll guide you. You'll see what works best and what doesn't.

I will say, though, that I've usually found myself coming around to what has been suggested to me eventually.

Please realize that people aren't saying your practice isn't effective, but rather they are trying to get you to have the strongest fundamentals as possible (like Michael Jordan or Kobe Bryant - Kenneth pointed out that these two guys are all about the fundamentals of their game) because they care very very deeply about you.

Kenneth, for example, has suffered more than I can probably imagine, through very deep depression as well as having to figure out a lot of these things at a time when there wasn't a lot to go on. He's rooting for you just as much as I or anyone else on here is.

Kenneth and I have been working on noting mind states lately and we had the conversation last nigh about how through noting practice in real time, we can get to the point where someone could kidnap you and throw you in a trunk and you would still be able to do this practice.

Also, you are aware of the cycle. That is good. That isn't you by the way. That's like a twitter feed (another metaphor from Kenneth) that you are watching. Watch it tweet!