Mindfulness Explained
[I just posted the following to the psychology discussion group at wetheliving.com. I’ll probably clean this up at some point to create a stand-alone essay. For now, here’s the raw version.]
I’ve enjoyed reading the conversation between Phil, Andrew, and Damian. I was out of town when the discussion started, but now I’m back in town and caught up, and I’m pleased to answer some of Phil’s questions about the nature of mindfulness and how it is practiced.
Damian is absolutely right that, at root, mindfulness is simply a matter of being attentive. As Phil notes, however, attention is used in many different ways in many different contexts and, in addition, most of us have precious few experiences where we cultivate the kind of pure attention that is involved in mindfulness, so I can appreciate Phil’s request for greater clarification.
Most of the characterizations of mindfulness that you’ll see in texts on the subject (to say nothing of articles in the popular media) are not intended as formal definitions. Rather, they are designed to point the reader in the right direction, to provide encouragement and instructions to actually learn the practice. This explains why you seldom see the same definition given twice; everyone has different signposts for how to get there.
Explaining mindfulness is rather like explaining introspection. It is not an idea or a belief or a thought; rather, it’s a practice. And until you’ve engaged in the practice yourself, and explored it some, it’s difficult to fully appreciate its value. But, if you do devote yourself to regular practice, it can soon become an indispensable and cherished way of life.
The relationship between meditation and mindfulness is that of means and end. Meditation is fundamentally a set of techniques for systematically stripping away the everyday distractions that make it hard to be fully mindful. Once you’ve cultivated an intensely mindful state of awareness through meditation, it’s easier to bring that same mindful awareness to your daily life.
Meditation is analogous to going to the gym to work out your muscles. You can achieve similar results by being more active during day-to-day life, but in the gym you have all the tools at your disposal to really isolate the important muscles and give them a good workout. Meditation is like a gym for your mind, allowing you to isolate and exercise your ‘muscles’ of awareness.
If you want to get a quick taste of mindfulness, try this exercise:
Find a quiet place where you can sit without being interrupted. Take a few moments to observe your breath, and relax into your body. Then turn your attention to your mind, and watch closely to see if you can consciously observe the first thought to enter your mind, as it first begins to enter you mind. You must be attentive, like a cat watching a mouse hole. See what thought comes through the mouse hole first. As the thought begins to enter your mind, continue watching it as closely as possible.
If your concentration is good, this exercise will actually take quite a while. The process of being intensely alert tends to quell thought activity, and so thoughts won’t enter your mind with the same frequency that they do in day-to-day life.
As you’re doing the exercise, become aware of not only what you are watching for, but also of the one who observes, the “silent watcher.” This observing part of awareness is the essence of mindfulness. To the extent that the “silent watcher” is fully engaged, you’re in a mindful state of awareness.
In my own practice and study of mindfulness, on a daily basis over the past several years, I have come up with a fairly formal definition that I think nearly anyone in the field would agree with, at least in substance:
Mindfulness is an enhanced state of awareness characterized by intense alertness, an orientation toward the present moment, and the absence of any form of thought, analysis, or judgment.
The definition needs some unpacking. To begin with, note that the three differentia provided here (alertness, orientation toward the present-moment, and lack of thinking) are not qualifiers on the state of awareness, but, rather, are three characteristics of awareness in its most pure form. Failing to be alert, projecting yourself into the past or the future, and engaging in abstract analysis all dilute the intensity of your awareness of what is before you.
Why is present-moment awareness so important? Because mindfulness is rooted in awareness of what is; and while memories of the past and expectations about the future are valuable tools in conducting daily life, they are also mental constructs that draw the mind away from reality as such. By learning to separate the two (present-moment awareness from its time-based alternatives), you strengthen your capacity for awareness as such.
With respect to the absence of thought, analysis, or judgment, here we must make a distinction between awareness in its basic form and the conceptual awareness that Objectivists value so highly. Mindfulness is about the cultivation of basic awareness, which does not involve thought. Conceptual thought can be added later, once the foundation has been laid. In fact, any of these mental processes—thinking, remembering, planning—which are distilled out during mindfulness, can be happily re-introduced afterwards, at which point the mental processes themselves are typically more clear and useful.
For example, by setting aside any thoughts about my dissertation while I’m meditating, I’m able to achieve a clearer state of mind which, after I finish meditating, is more conducive to focused work. And by periodically returning to the state of mindful awareness while I am writing, I am able to stay more centered, focused, and creatively engaged with the task at hand. The same is true for driving, washing dishes, engaging in conversation, and virtually any other life activity. Done mindfully, they feel more joyful and precious.
There is another benefit of mindfulness which is worth considering because of its therapeutic value. It has to do with the effects of cultivating present-moment awareness.
In normal, day-to-day life, we tend to become closely identified with our thoughts and feelings, which is to say, we feel like our “self” is in them. For example, when I think about the speech I am scheduled to give later today, my I is immersed in that thinking. When I feel afraid, then my I is afraid. In other words, the felt sense-of-self is pressed up against the mental event, not unlike a person in a movie theater who, forgetting they are in a theater, feels the same excitement and fear they would feel were it not simply a movie.
In a movie theater, this choice to identify with the experience may be entirely willful and desirable. Perhaps if we become too afraid, we will remember to feel the chair against our back, and look around the room, and this will give us relief.
Most people don’t realize, however, that they can do the same thing with their thoughts and feelings. In any given circumstance, a thought or feeling may or may not be accurate or helpful or healthy. But if you are chronically identified with those same thoughts and feelings—and this is the case for the vast majority of people—then you’ll find yourself quite stuck at times. It’s as though you were in a movie theater at a dreadfully scary movie, but you never think to look around and remember that you’re in a theater. You keep acting as though the thoughts and feelings are true, that they’re a reflection of your true self.
Through the regular practice of cultivating present-moment awareness, and consciously setting aside your distractions, you can develop a new and useful capacity in your day-to-day life. Just as the movie-goer remembers to look around and see the theater instead of the movie, the experienced mindfulness practitioner becomes more skilled at remembering to look around and see life, and what actually exists, instead of remaining immersed in thoughts and feelings.
This can be enormously liberating. It has also been incorporated at the heart of a variety of therapeutic techniques (such as Dialectical Behavior Therapy and Acceptance & Commitment Therapy) that may or may not involve any formal meditation.
In response to the Goleman article, Phil mentioned his concern that using mindfulness to learn to “drop” an unpleasant thought or emotion could be a kind of repression. In practice, mindfulness is the opposite of repression. Where repression involves shutting an experience out of conscious awareness, in mindfulness you pull the experience into your direct conscious awareness. But instead of identifying with the experience, you see it for what it is. And if it’s an unhelpful thought or feeling that is better to let go of, you know how to truly drop it.
I hope these clarifications have been helpful. It’s always exciting to hear other Rand admirers express interest in these practices. In my experience, they are an immensely valuable tool for living the good life, and I’ve been pleased to see how many Objectivists are interested.
As Damian mentioned, anyone interested is welcome to check out Mudita Forum, which is devoted to discussing topics like this. The forum currently has 36 members, each of whom are interested both in Ayn Rand’s ideas and in the consciousness-raising practices associated with Eastern thinking. You can find more information about the forum here.
And here you can find my instructions for learning how to meditate.
