A friend pointed me to the very interesting article “Lotus Therapy” in today’s NY Times, which discusses the current state of the research, pro and con, on mindfulness as a clinical intervention.
Criticisms of mindfulness are particularly interesting to me, partly because I experience mindfulness, at root, to be a simple increase in awareness — and not even at the “synthetic” level of thought, but rather at the even more basic level of perception.
Since the practice of mindfulness is virtually synonymous with an increase in perception, or elementary awareness, I often find myself wondering, “How on earth can raising awareness be bad?”
So that is, perhaps, a philosophical bias I bring to the table, from the outset — I don’t understand how awareness can be bad. Ever. Not in principle, as a way of living.
Occasionally I get the impression that mindfulness is being criticized because the critic has something akin to a religious phobia, and their criticisms of mindfulness are just a by-product of that, since mindfulness therapies are derived, historically, from Buddhism.
I get that vibe, for example, in this quote from critic Scott Lilienfield in the article:
“What concerns me is the hype, the talk about changing the world, this allure of the guru that the field of psychotherapy has a tendency to cultivate.”
I personally attended a training in Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (the gold standard in mindfulness as a clinical intervention) and I don’t recall anything about gurus or changing the world. If anything, the approach being taught seemed systematically stripped of it cultural underpinnings in Buddhism and the various Zen traditions from which it originated.
So I wonder where this concern of his is coming from; does it relate to the empirical treatments being offered, or is it something he picked up elsewhere?
Also, sometimes people criticize mindfulness meditation because they do not recognize the difference between mindfulness meditation (which involves increasing one’s awareness of reality) and transcendental meditation (which involves entering a trance and, essentially, temporarily decreasing one’s contact with reality).
The latter was quite popular, and controversial, in the 1970s, but is fundamentally dissimilar from mindfulness meditation.
On the other hand, there are certain criticisms of mindfulness that appear to have undeniable empirical merit — assuming the results upon which they’re based can be taken at face value:
A case in point is mindfulness-based therapy to prevent a relapse into depression. The treatment significantly reduced the risk of relapse in people who have had three or more episodes of depression. But it may have had the opposite effect on people who had one or two previous episodes, two studies suggest.
Why would mindfulness help people with three or more episodes, but hurt people with two or fewer?
Understanding the dynamics involved, it seems to me, could do much to increase our grasp of the human mind, as well as mindfulness therapies.
Could it be that, for patients with two or fewer episodes, the mind’s natural defense mechanisms are more safe or useful, at least in the short term, than an increase in awareness?
I would enjoy hearing theories from anyone with some grasp of the dynamics involved, and preferably some first-hand personal experience with mindfulness practice.
Why would mindfulness — even when removed entirely from any religious trappings — help certain patients, while hurting others?