MARCEL PROUST AND THE ART OF MINDFULNESS

‘The true journey of discovery consists not in seeking
new landscapes but in having fresh eyes.’ Marcel Proust.

Ever since I studied French in high school I have loved the writings of Marcel Proust, pictured below. However, I have never found his books easy to understand, even in English. Be that as it may, there is so much to discover in his writings. After all, Proust was the first writer to explore in depth the nature of the human mind and the depths of consciousness. No high metaphysician, he reminds us that ordinarily it is in the little things of life that we find what is truly important. There is something extraordinary not just behind, but also in, the ordinary stuff of life—and for that we should be truly grateful.

When one think of Proust, what usually first comes to mind is his magnum opus, À la recherche du temps perdu (In Search of Lost Time; earlier rendered as Remembrance of Things Past), which was published in seven parts between 1913 and 1927. This vast autobiographical and psychological novel, lacking in logical construction just like life which is certainly not a logical sequence of events, has been described as 'an extraordinarily penetrating study of human psychology. ... No other French novelist before Proust had explored the world of the mind with such subtlety, or analysed with greater insight the influence of our subconscious thoughts and feelings on our character and our behaviour' (J Robinson and A Martin, France Today: Background to a Modern Civilisation, Sydney: Novak, 1964, pp 140-1).

For Proust, and for us, time is perhaps our greatest enemy. We are all subject to time from the very beginning of our lives to their end and so much is lost through the changes wrought by the unstoppable march of time. Memories fail over time. We return to a place—a place which, say, we once loved as a child—only to find that it is no longer the same place. Most if not all of the pleasure associated with the place has gone, and much of that is due to the passage of time. Over time, we manufacture innumerable 'false selves'—'I's and 'me's—in the form of our likes, dislikes, attachments and aversions. All these selves have no permanent, fixed identity. They are all transient and ever-changing. Time, in conjunction with the notion of the illusory self, is a major theme of In Search of Time. Here is the final sentence of the novel:

If at least, time enough were allotted to me to accomplish my work, I would not fail to mark it with the seal of Time, the idea of which imposed itself upon me with so much force today, and I would therein describe men, if need be, as monsters occupying a place in Time infinitely more important than the contrary, prolonged immeasurably since, simultaneously touching widely separated years and the distant periods they have lived through—between which so many days have ranged themselves—they stand like giants immersed in Time.

Now, can the problem of time be overcome? Well, time can be transcended. How? Through mindfulness, that's one way. If we can see things-as-they-really are, we are no longer bound by time. We then experience the eternal now. Those familiar with Proust—and even some who aren’t—will know of the following oft-quoted experience from early in Part One (‘Combray’) of the first volume of In Search of Time, titled Swann’s Way. The subject-matter recounted is the first episode concerning the madeleine (a tea-cake or bun)—the first so-called 'madeleine moment'. There is a second 'madeleine moment' which is recounted in the final moment of the novel. Anyway, the first 'madeleine moment' is described thus:

I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shiver ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory—this new sensation having had the effect, which love has, of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me, it was me. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, contingent, mortal. Whence could it have come to me, this all-powerful joy? I sensed that it was connected with the taste of the tea and the cake, but that it infinitely transcended those savours, could not, indeed, be of the same nature. Where did it come from? What did it mean? How could I seize and apprehend it?

I cannot stress this enough. Mindfulness is not a ‘method’ or ‘technique’. If anyone says that you must use some so-called ‘method’ or ‘technique’ in order to practice mindfulness—that is, to live mindfully—tell that person to get lost (or words to that effect). There is no method or technique’ for seeing things as they really are. In order to see things as they really are all you need to do is remove the obstacles to seeing things-as-they-really-are. Then we can truly 'seize' and 'apprehend' the moment, something that Proust sought to do.

Seeing things-as they-really-are. That is what the Pāli word vipassanā ('insight meditation' or mindfulness) means. The word is composed of two parts—namely, vi, meaning ‘in various ways’, and passanā, meaning seeing. So, vipassanā means ‘seeing in various ways’ as well as seeing things-as-they really-are. Proust refers to this as ‘having fresh eyes’, which is the very same thing. For Proust, and for us, we tend to experience life episodically. A present experience often brings into play involuntary memory, when something encountered in everyday life evokes recollections of the past without there being any conscious effort on our part. As readers of Proust will know, the theme of involuntary memory is all throughout the French writer's text. For Proust, it is the preeminent way of 'defeating' time. In the section on Proust in Eight Centuries of French Literature: From the Chanson de Roland to Sartre, edited by R F Bradley and R B Michell (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1951), we read: '...using spontaneous or involuntary memory as an instrument, Proust evokes the sensations, emotions, dreams, and experiences that lie dormant in the subconscious mind' (p 555). All these Proust seeks to understand.

Now, returning to the episode of the madeleine, and without wishing to be overly analytical, the writer (that is, the narrator of the novel) recounts the following:

First, he raises to his lips a spoonful of the tea in which he had soaked a morsel of the cake.

Secondly, no sooner does the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touch his palate than a shiver runs through him.

Thirdly, he stops, ‘intent upon the extraordinary thing that [is] happening to [him]’.

Fourthly, an exquisite pleasure invades his senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin.

Fifthly, the vicissitudes of life thereupon become indifferent to him, for the new sensation has the effect of filling him with a ‘precious essence’. This essence is not in him. It is him. In other words, he is one with the content of the experience, both inner and outer.

There is more to the episode of the madeleine but let's leave it there. Now, for Proust and for us, something tends to get in the way of seeing and experiencing things-as-they-really-are. What is that? Well, it is pretty obvious. We stop. Yes, we stop—and we start analysing, judging, comparing, and so forth. Then the newness and freshness of the experience dies on us. In order to penetrate the core of reality, the illusory ‘I’ of us, the so-called ‘perceiving self’ needs to disappear. Krishnamurti wrote:

When you look at a flower, when you just see it, at that moment is there an entity who sees? Or is there only seeing? Seeing the flower makes you say [i.e. think], ‘How nice it is! I want it.’ So the ‘I’ comes into being through desire, fear, ambition [all thought], which follow in the wake of seeing. It is these that create the ‘I’ and the ‘I’ is non-existent without them.

In truth, there are only the following three ‘relational’ elements in order for a stimulus to be perceived: first, the sense-object (or simply the object in question); secondly, a sense organ; and thirdly, attention or consciousness. It is more-or-less the same with our thoughts and thinking, except we have no sense-object and sense-organ involved as such. 

Now, in order for there to be an immediacy and directness about our moment-to-moment experience of life, those three occurrences need to occur more-or-less simultaneously---that is, no separation. If those three events are not simultaneously experienced---and that will happen if we engage in thinking, analysis, comparison, interpretation, or judgment in connection with the object in question (be it external or internal)---then the chances are that what will be experienced will be nothing but ... the past! Yes, the reality of the immediate experience will subside. Indeed, it will die! Any consciousness of it will be in the form of an after-thought or memory, as we glance back to re-experience, and (sadly, yes) evaluate, a past experience.

Back to Proust. Another memorable encounter in the first volume of In Search of Time is that concerning the hawthorn hedge and flowers. The incident is also recounted in Part One of the first volume:

… I found the whole path throbbing with the fragrance of hawthorn-blossom. … But it was in vain that I lingered beside the hawthorns—breathing in their invisible and unchanging odour, trying to fix it in my mind (which did not know what to do with it), losing it, recapturing it, absorbing myself in the rhythm which disposed the flowers here and there with a youthful light-heartedness and at intervals as unexpected as certain intervals in music …

And then I returned to the hawthorns, and stood before them as one stands before those masterpieces which, one imagines, one will be better able to ‘take in’ when one has looked away for a moment at something else; but in vain did I make a screen with my hands, the better to concentrate upon the flowers, the feeling they aroused in me remained obscure and vague, struggling and failing to free itself, to float across and become one with them. They themselves offered me no enlightenment, and I could not call upon any other flowers to satisfy this mysterious longing. And then, inspiring me with that rapture which we feel on seeing a work by our favourite painter quite different from those we already know, or, better still, when we are shown a painting of which we have hitherto seen no more than a pencilled sketch, or when a piece of music which we have heard only on the piano appears to us later clothed in all the colours of the orchestra, my grandfather called me to him, and, pointing to the Tansonville hedge, said to me: ‘You’re fond of hawthorns; just look at this pink one—isn’t it lovely?’

And it was indeed a hawthorn, but one whose blossom was pink, and lovelier even than the white. ...

Proust/the narrator recounts that as a young boy he found the whole path throbbing with the fragrance of hawthorn-blossom. What a wonderful experience! But look what happens. He breathes in the invisible and unchanging odour of the hawthorn flowers and tries to ‘fix it in [his] mind (which did not know what to do with it)’. Ugh. He then loses the directness and immediacy of the experience, then briefly recaptures it, and so on. The young boy receives some unexpected help from his grandfather, who says, ‘You are fond of hawthorns; just look at this pink one; isn’t it pretty?’ That, my friends, is the essence of mindfulness. If we can just look and see, that is, observe without judgment, analysis or interpretation, we come to see the ‘formlessness of things’.

Ordinarily, the conditioned, undisciplined mind wants to attach itself to something, that is, some object or thought. It is wants to grab hold of something. Actually, our mind is pure consciousness in its pure, unconditioned state, so that when we truly observe there is no observing self, there is simply awareness—pure unadulterated awareness. Is this direct and immediate experience possible? Yes, indeed, but it takes practice. That’s where the practice of mindfulness comes in handy. We need to learn to give our full attention to the ever-fleeting present moment by removing the hindrances or obstructions to our so doing.

Begin now. There is no time like the present. When you look, just look. When you hear, just hear. When you smell, just smell. When you taste, just taste. When you touch, just touch. Avoid the temptation to grab hold of something, that is, attach your mind to something. In truth, your mind can never attach itself to the present. If you try, you will always end up losing direct and immediate contact with the present moment as it unfolds ceaselessly into the next present moment and the next and the one after that.

I will finish with these words of Proust. ‘My destination is no longer a place, rather a new way of seeing.’ A new way of seeing. That is what mindfulness is all about.

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I so prefer the Oz books of Theosophist L Frank Baum (pictured below) to the Narnia books of the moralistic "black-and-white" Christian apologist C S Lewis. (I am weary of hearing Lewis' Lunatic/Liar/Lord (or Mad/Bad/God) trilemma, which is a poor attempt at what is otherwise a logical fallacy - trifurcation. For a man who supposedly knew some philosophy - although he proved he was no match for the redoubtable Elizabeth Anscombe - Lewis certainly came up with some silly sophistry which has attracted far more attention and respect than it deserves, but that's for another day ... and blog. Naughty me.)

The Wizard of Oz is something altogether different. It is one of my favourite books. It tells us all that we need to know about life and ourselves.

The book is an American fairy tale par excellence. It is also a most spiritual book. Baum once wrote, "Never question the truth of what you fail to understand, for the world is filled with wonders."

I'm sure most of you are familiar with the story. Dorothy Gale, an orphan girl, literally blows into Oz (a most fictitious and legendary place, although much like the "real" world just the same) from Kansas with her dog, Toto. She embarks on a journey, hoping to find the Wizard of Oz, who, she is told, will help her to get back to Kansas.  On her journey Dorothy (“Divine gift”) meets some wonderful fanciful characters who are also seeking something very special. They include the Scarecrow (who is seeking brains), the Tin Woodman (who is seeking a heart), and the Cowardly Lion (who is seeking a heart). Eventually, through the influence of the Good Witch of the North, they enter the Emerald Palace of the Wizard of Oz and meet up with the Wizard, but he turns out to be nothing but a "humbug" and a fake magician from Dorothy’s home town in Kansas.

Baum’s “attack” on organised religion is thinly veiled, to say the least. "It is better for people to keep away from [the Wizard], unless they have business with him," says one of the characters in the book. And who or what is Oz? Well, "some say he looks like a bird; and some say he looks like an elephant; and some say he looks like a cat. To others he appears as a beautiful fairy, or a brownie, or in any form that pleases him," says another of the characters in the book. (How true. Several of the world's religions---including Christianity---have depicted a god in the form of a bird. Then there's Ganesh, the Indian god in the form of an elephant. And the ancient Egyptians worshipped cats as gods. I will stop there. Baum knows his comparative religion and mythology.)

Yes, not surprisingly, we all have our own very different images of the Divine---even the atheist. "Whether [God] is a man or not I cannot tell, for I have never seen him," says another of the characters. Indeed, we are told that  nobody has seen Oz. Yes, the Wizard, who sits day after day in the great throne room of his palace, is nothing but a "humbug." However, the Wizard does have something of importance to offer the lead characters: he says that they already have what they are looking for, that they need only look within themselves. That is the best advice---indeed, it is all we need to hear---we can ever hope to get from a supposed "teacher," "guru" or "saviour." The bottom line is this, my dear friends---each one of us must be our own teacher, guru and saviour.

Dorothy gets home with the aid of her “silver shoes” - in the wonderful 1939 MGM film they were “ruby slippers” - with their wonderful powers to take her back home. The Scarecrow learns that experience is the only thing that brings knowledge; he has developed a brain by having to make decisions in the various experiences he has gone through. The Tin Woodman learns that having a heart means loving unconditionally, even to the point of pain; he finds that he does, in fact, have a heart because he has come to love Dorothy. The Cowardly Lion learns that true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage he always had in plenty; he has become courageous because he had to show courage in their many adventures.

The ultimate "lesson" ... each of us must look within and to ourselves for what is essential, but it is only in relationship with others that we are able to do that effectively. 

The Wizard of Oz affirms, as J Krishnamurti pointed out, that truth is a "pathless land" and that you cannot approach it by any creed or path whatsoever. (Dorothy is told that there is no road leading to the Wicked Witch of the West, who must be liquidated.) Direct perception of truth (reality) is, however, possible, when there is choiceless awareness of life as it really is. The yellow brick road is simply the livingness of life from one moment to the next. The road leads nowhere that is not already here now, but it is nevertheless everywhere.

The important thing is life itself. Whatever life may be, it is all here now, in the “magic” of each passing moment, and all we have to do is to learn to perceive it here and now.  We need to see each thing as it really is - as a new moment in spacetime.

The Good Witch from the North asks Dorothy, “What have you learned from your experiences?” Dorothy replies, “I have learned that my heart’s desire is in my own home and in my own front yard.” 

Mindfulness is all about paying attention to your own “front yard” ... and back yard, too, for that matter. So, forget about finding the Wizard ... and look within ... and around you ... in awareness. Yes, in the oft-quoted words of the immortal James Thurber, "Let us not look back in anger, nor forward in fear, but around in awareness."


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Here's an interesting website … Buddhists Against Reincarnation.

I neither believe nor disbelieve in reincarnation, but I accept the idea of reincarnation as a working hypothesis. Why believe? Belief makes no difference to whether or not an idea or thing is true. No amount of belief will make something true if it is not. Anyway, as Alan Watts once wrote, "Supposing my personal existence does not continue, what of it?"

Contrary to the Buddhism of many, the Buddhism that the Shakyamuni Buddha himself espoused calls for no belief (see Buddhism Without Beliefs by Stephen Batchelor), no dogma, no doctrine, no saviours, no gurus, no sacred or infallible books, no superstition … only a life of service and giving to others ... free from the bondage of self. In the words of the Dalai Lama (pictured below), “My religion is simple. My religion is kindness.”

So, in the words of J. Krishnamurti (see this talk of his), I embrace and explore the idea of reincarnation as “a means of self-discovery … not to find a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer but as a means of understanding [myself].”

Reincarnation is certainly an interesting idea. It makes much more sense to me than resurrection. If true, it helps to explain a number of life’s mysteries and apparent injustices. However, what actually reincarnates? The soul? I have trouble with that one. Some reincarnating ego? Ditto. Anyway, Buddhists speak more in terms of “rebirth” than reincarnation.

On the website mentioned above there are reproduced the following excerpts from Chapter 53 of The Gospel of Buddha, which is a compilation of ancient texts published in 1894 by that great student of comparative religion Paul Carus (pictured below):

There is rebirth of character,
but no transmigration of self.
Thy thought-forms reappear,
But there is no egoentity transferred.
The stanza uttered by a teacher
is reborn in the scholar who repeats the words.

Thy self to which though cleavest is a constant change.
Years ago thou wast a small babe;
Then, thou wast a boy;
Then a youth, and now, thou art a man.
Is there an identity of the babe and the man?
There is an identity in a certain sense only.
Indeed there is more identity between the flames
of the first watch and the third watch,
even though the lamp might have been extinguished
during the second watch.

Then there is this excerpt from the Samyutta Nikaya in which "rebirth" is said to be the result of the "process of becoming", a process which leads to "old age and death, sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief, and despair":
 

"Just so, Ananda, in one who contemplates the enjoyment of all things that make for clinging, craving arises; through craving, clinging is conditioned; through clinging, the process of becoming is conditioned; through the process of becoming, rebirth is conditioned; through rebirth are conditioned old age and death, sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief, and despair. Thus arises the whole mass of suffering again in the future.

"But in the person, Ananda, who dwells contemplating the misery of all things that make for clinging, craving ceases; when craving ceases, clinging ceases; when clinging ceases, the process of becoming ceases; when the process of becoming ceases, rebirth ceases; when rebirth ceases, old age and death, sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief, and despair cease. Thus the entire mass of suffering ceases."

Hmmm. Interesting. If the Skakyamuni Buddha actually spoke these words, then query whether he did believe in rebirth in the sense in which the concept is ordinarily understood in Buddhism. The Buddha used the image of a flame being passed from one candle to another and then to another, before proceeding to question - and doubt - whether the flame on the final candle was that of the first candle. Huston Smith, that great authority on the world's religions, refers to this process as one in which "influence [is] transmitted by chain recation but without a perduring substance". Another metaphor used by the Buddha to describe this process of "influence", in which one human life has consequences - often far-reaching ones - for others, is that of the bells. Each life is a note sounded in an open room, causing similar instruments to vibrate with the same sound ... all the way down the "corridors of time" ... until at last the note is swallowed up in one universal harmony.

Thus, any "rebirth" is entirely in the form of influence ... or, perhaps, enduring character. (As an aside, we all know that the influence - for "better" or for "worse" - of a person lives on after their death, whether in the actual lives of other persons or otherwise [eg in the so-called "race mind" or the "collective unconscious"].)

Anyway, the historical Buddha was never one for metaphysical speculation. If asked about the matter of rebirth, I am sure he would have said something like this, “Does it really matter? The important thing is this present life now? How are you reincarnating now?”

I am also reminded of the words of Dhyana Master Hakuin (see The Cloud Men of Yamato): "How wondrous! How wondrous! There is no birth-and-death from which one has to escape, nor is there any supreme knowledge after which one has to strive."

In other words, if you are thinking about rebirth, you are thinking about "I" and "me". Forget about the "I" and "me" altogether ... then you might just have a chance of actualizing Nirvana.

Here is some very good advice from the Buddha that I have lived by. It has served me well throughout the years, and it makes perfectly good sense:

Believe nothing because a so-called wise person said it.

Believe nothing because a belief is generally held.

Believe nothing because it is written in ancient books.

Believe nothing because it is said to be of divine origin.

Believe nothing because someone else believes it.

Believe only what you yourself judge to be true.

As I see it, the really important thing is this … have you been reincarnated today? Each day, and every minute of the day, and from moment to moment, we are being reincarnated in a different form. The practice of Mindfulness keeps us aware of this fact, and enables us to watch, with bare detachment and choiceless awareness, our body, mind and its contents “transmigrate” from one moment to the next.

“Rebirth of character” … that is what all true religion is about, despite the views of some who would have it otherwise. Even the Apostle Paul spoke of the need to be transformed by the renewing of one’s mind (see Romans 12:2). Unitarians of yesteryear taught "salvation by character", which is something very similar.

It is written that the Shakyamuni Buddha said, "But if there is no other world and there is no fruit and ripening of actions well done or ill, then here and now in this life I shall be free from hostility, affliction, and anxiety, and I shall live happily.”

“Here and now in this life … .” That is what Mindfulness is all about … the here and now. How alive are you? How aware are you? Is there hostility, affliction and anxiety? Are you happy? How will you ever know these things if you live mindlessly?

When Buddha was asked whether he was God, he replied, “No.” He replied the same way when asked whether he was the son of God, a prophet, and so forth. What was he then? “I am awake,” said the Buddha. The essence of Buddhism, in two words, is ... "Wake up!"

Come alive! Wake up! Reincarnate!

MINDFULNESS AND OBSESSIONAL THOUGHTS

Mindfulness is simply the presence of a calm, alert, steady, deliberate but choiceless (that is, accepting, non-judgmental and imperturbable) awareness of, and bare but curious attention to, the action of the present moment ... one’s body, body functions and sensations, the content of one’s consciousness (thoughts, feelings, images, memories, etc) and consciousness itself. Mindfulness is training in self-culture, self-improvement and self-help.

Most, if not all, kinds of meditation can be relaxing, but relaxation, in itself, is not a solution for negative psychological states of mind including obsessional thinking. Most kinds of meditation are designed to take you away from the present moment. This is nothing more than temporary escapism, distraction and diversion, affording, at best, only temporary relief from the signs and symptoms of obsessional thinking.

Mindfulness takes meditation, in its most simple and natural form, and applies it to one’s whole life. The regular practice of Mindfulness ... the practice of paying attention in the present ... is the most effective kind of meditation for dealing with the signs and symptoms of obsessional thinking. Here’s why ...

1.      Obsessional thoughts (ruminations) tend to arise when we are not fully grounded in the present moment, more particularly, when we obsess, often incessantly, about some person, place, thing or situation from the past to which we are still psychologically “attached” in an unhealthy and upsetting way.

2.      Mindfulness is simply the presence - note that word, presence - of the choiceless awareness of, and the paying of bare but curious attention to, the action of what is present in the moment, and to whatever arises in the present moment ... from moment to moment ... both inside and outside of us. Mindfulness "occurs" when we remember to be, and stay, in the present moment, and remember, purposefully and receptively, and non-judgmentally, that which is present. This takes much practice, so please be kind, nonjudgmental and patient with yourself at all times.

3.      Thoughts, feelings and sensations - positive or negative - only have the power we choose to give them. In and of themselves, they have no independent reality. They are simply “mental movies”. Watch them come and go. Even the most obsessional, intrusive and seemingly incessant of thoughts are still just passing entities ... all part of a seemingly endless stream of consciousness. Simply note them, with detachment. Don’t hold on to them. Don’t resist them. In the words of Professor William James (pictured below) of Harvard University, “The essence of genius is to know what to overlook” ... that is, pass by, “skip”.

4.      Remember that you, the person that you are, are not your thoughts. Thoughts come and go. Some come back more frequently than others, but you need not feel overwhelmed. Take heart. You can de-sensitize yourself to unwelcome thoughts. You can become immune to the adverse effects of your thinking. You need not be victimized by your own thinking.

5.      The regular practice of Mindfulness Meditation teaches us that we think “thoughts”, not “reality”. Your thoughts are only thoughts. They are a manifestation of consciousness. In and of themselves, they have no reality, and have no power to hurt you. The only way a thought, or a series of thoughts, can harm you is if you give them significance. If you don’t, they have no power to hurt you at all. Simply note what the body is experiencing ... thinking thoughts. Note any tension or stress in the body in the present moment. Accept that ... deliberately keeping the mind at the level of bare attention. Remain calm, steady, stable, engaged, focused ... and yet at the same time detached.

6.      With regular Mindfulness practice, you can decide to let your thoughts be, to not react to anxiety or tension, and to focus on what is happening in the present moment. Is this possible? Yes, it is ... with acceptance and understanding, not reaction and fear.

7.      Unlike most kinds of meditation, Mindfulness Meditation is not about stopping the mind or stopping thoughts. Mindfulness and Mindfulness Meditation is about allowing thoughts to be present but not letting them run you. Intrusive thoughts are not the problem ... only habitual thinking. Remember, the thoughts and feelings about yourselves or others are not you. You have a choice ... you can choose to identify with your thoughts and feelings (especially the negative and self-destructive ones) or you can simply observe them.

8.      The practice of Mindfulness is based, at least in part, on the psychological and metaphysical “law of non-resistance” (also known as the “law of indirectness”). Remember this important truth ... “Whatever we resist, persists.” Never try to dispel directly a troublesome thought, feeling or sensation. Don’t resist it. Don’t fight against it. Don’t try to drive it out or away. Don’t dwell on it nor hang on to it. Don’t even think about it, let along analyse or evaluate it. Don’t “fuel” it in any way. Even Jesus is reported to have told his followers, "Resist not evil" (Mt 5:39). The American spiritual teacher Vernon Howard, whose writings and lectures have had a big impact on my life, said this: ''Resistance to the disturbance is the disturbance." Get the picture?

9.      As soon as a troublesome thought appears, become aware of it or the fact that you are thinking. If necessary, say to yourself, interiorly, “Thinking ... Thinking”. While you are aware of the fact that you are thinking, all thinking tends to stop.

10.    As soon as you notice your mind wandering off, gently refocus it in the present moment. Stay in the now. If your thoughts are not in the here and now, simply bring your attention back to the present moment, focusing, for example, on your in-breath and out-breath or the rise and fall of your abdomen.

11.    Watch, especially, when the mind enters “neutral” (eg during repetitive tasks). Keep your mind occupied by listening to inspirational tapes and music, and so forth. Be on the alert for “reinforcers” (eg mental fantasies, conversations, routines, past associations). Obsessional thoughts and fixations are maintained by reinforcement. Watch for “triggers”. If you remain ever vigilant, and mindful, the presence of your awareness in the present moment will result in the withdrawal of the reinforcement, and the obsessiveness will eventually lose its grip on you and stop.

12.    Mindfulness makes us more accepting of whatever is, for whatever is, is best! Why? Because that is what is, and as Krishnamurti said, “In the acknowledgement of what is there is the cessation of all conflict.”


Now, what does one do when obsessional thinking is, well, so obsessional as to be virtually incessant? The long-term solution is to undergo a total and complete psychological revolution ("mutation" or "transformation") that I've spoken and written about in other posts. In the short-term or interim, in order to deal with pressing exigencies, here is a very useful suggestion from Krishnamurti:

      "[I]n order to understand ourselves we must become aware and to study ourselves thought-feeling must slow itself down. If you become aware of your own thinking-feeling, you will perceive how rapid it is, one disconnected thought-feeling following another, wandering and distracted; and it is impossible to observe, examine such confusion. To bring order and so clarity, I [suggest] that every thought-feeling be written down. This whirling machinery must slow itself down to be observed, so writing every thought-feeling may be of help. As in a slow motion picture you are able to see every movement, so in slowing down the rapidity of the mind you are then able to observe every thought, trivial and important."

         RELATED POSTS

MINDFULNESS CURES THE WANDERING MIND

         MINDFULNESS HELPS STOP YOUR MIND FROM WANDERING

THE USE OF MINDFULNESS FOR SUBSTANCE USE DISORDERS

MINDFULNESS AND SHOPPING ADDICTION

         GIVING UP SMOKING WITH MINDFULNESS

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            IMPORTANT NOTICE: See the Terms of Use and Disclaimer. The information provided on this blogspot is not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. Never delay or disregard seeking professional medical advice from your medical practitioner or other qualified health provider because of something you have read on this blogspot. For immediate advice or support call Lifeline on 13 1 1 14 or Kids Helpline on 1800 55 1800. For information, advice and referral on mental illness contact the SANE Helpline on 1800 18 SANE (7263) go online via sane.org