Contemplative Practices in Action 15] Index, About the Editor and Contributors

 15] Index

 

Abandonment to Divine Providence

(Caussade), 68 Abba, God as, 63 Abiding Prayer, 74

ablution, 127

Abraham (Prophet), 123 absorption of spiritual content, 40 academic coursework, Passage

Meditation and, 53–54

acceptance, 25

accompaniment, 226 active prayer sentence, 69 Adon Olam, 110

adrenaline, 164

advocacy, 226

Aitken, Robert, 161

Alcoholics Anonymous, 239

Allah, 124

altered consciousness, pain and, 217–18

Aminah, K., 137

amygdala, 172

Anthology of Christian Mysticism (Eagan), 71–72

anxiety, mindfulness and, 19

apophatic prayer, 66, 197–98

Arico, Carl, 74

art therapy, mindfulness-based, 29 asana (postures), 146, 147

Askwith, Richard, 240

 

Astin, John A., 28, 69–70

attention: essential nature of, 8, 9;

mindfulness and, 30; training, 1, 10–11t

attitude, mindfulness and,  30 attitudes, cultivation of, 25–26 austerity or burning desire (tapas), 147

Austin, James, 169, 173; Selfless Insights,

169; Zen and the Brain, 169;

Zen-Brain Reflections, 169 autonomic nervous system, mindfulness

and, 28

Axis I and II disorders, mindfulness and, 28

Azhar, M. Z., 137, 138

Azusa Street revival (1906), 209

Baal Shem Tov, 115 Bandura, Albert, 47 Baucom, D. H., 28 Beddoe, A. E., 26 beginner’s mind, 25

behavior, human models of, 47 being present, 168

Benson, Herbert, 2, 86–87, 107;

Relaxation Response, 42

Berry, Wendell, 241 Bhagavad Gita, 38f Bhakti yoga, 146

Bill W., 239

 

bio-psycho-social-spiritual pain model, 206–7

Birchot HaShachar, 112 Blessings of the Dawn, 112 Bodhi, 30

“Body, Mind, Spirit: Yoga and Meditation,” 154

body scan, 21–22

Boorstein, Sylvia, 159

boundless compassion, 160–61

boundless equanimity, 160–62 Bourgeault, Cynthia, 63; Centering

Prayer and Inner Awakening, 65

Brahma Viharas, 160–62

brain function, Zen and, 172, 174

breath meditation, 20–21, 192

bridging tool, 42 Bromley, D. G., 212 Brown, K. W., 30

Buddhism: faces of love in, 160–61; mindfulness and, 18

Burkan, Tolly, 213 “B’yado afkid ruchee,” 110

“calming” practices, 225 Carlson, L. E., 30 Carmody, J., 28

Carson, J. W., 28

Cassian, John, 63–64; Conferences, 63–64

Castan˜ eto, May Lynn, 70 Castellanos, Isabel, 74–75

cataphatic prayer, 66

Catch it, Check it, Change it, 87 Catechism of the Catholic Church, 62–63 Caussade, Jean-Pierre de: Abandonment

to Divine Providence, 68 centering, 9, 10–11t, 13

Centering Prayer, 7, 9, 192;

accompanying practices, 67–69;

applications, 71–74; cross-cultural

considerations, 74–75; distinguish- ing features, 66–67; experimental studies, 69–71; four guidelines, 63–64; historical roots of, 63–64; methods, 64–69; personal relation- ship with God, 61; religious context, 61–63

 

Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening

(Bouregeault), 65

character strengths, 9

Charismatic Christianity, 209, 211–12,

220–21

Chief Yellow Lark, 38f Christian contemplative prayer

tradition, 9, 60–61, 62, 192 chronic pain, spiritual practice and:

applications for health practitioners, 219–20; biological, psychological, and social factors, 206; historical and religious context, 207–11; music and dance, 208; and punishment by God, 207

“Circle of Living Voices” meditation, 191

cleanliness (saucha), 147

cognitive-behavioral interventions, mindfulness and, 29–30

coherent resemblance, 8

Coleman, Arthur, 215

college students, Passage Meditations and, 51–52, 52f

Comparative Effectiveness Research, 97 compassion, 9

complete attention (dharana), 148 concentration, 1, 9, 148

Conferences (Cassian), 64

contemplatio (resting), 68 contemplation and consciousness,

Islamic practice of, 145 Contemplative Non-Dual Inquiry, 70 Contemplative Outreach, 62

contemplative practices, 1, 192; Eastern and Western traditions, 3; faith traditions and, 2; interconnectedness of, 243; introduction to, 226–27;

secularization of, 2

contemplative spirituality, 64 contemporary rock music, spirituality

and, 215

content absorption, 41

contentment (samtosa), 147 control of sensual pleasure

(brahmacharya), 147

conversion in Christian tradition, 193 Cook, Francis, 165–66

 

coping, suffering and, 230

coping styles, Relationship-with-God, 70 courage, 9

cultivation of attitudes, 25–26 cultivation of silence, solitude, and

service, 67

curiosity, 26

da Silva, T. L., 152, 153 dance, spirituality and, 208 dance theology, 211

dance therapy, 219–20 Davidson, R. J., 29 Dench, Judi, 235

denial, 227–31, 230

DePaul  University,  154 depression symptoms, mindfulness

and, 19

Dervish spirituality, 209–10

desert spirituality, 63–64 Desikachar, T. K. V., 146–47 dialectical behavior therapy (DBT),

29–30

Discourse on Good Will, 39f discrimination, slowing down and, 84 Divine Therapy and Addition: Centering

Prayer and the Twelve Steps

(Keating), 74

Dogen, Eihei: Genjo Koan, 167

dranpa, 17

drumming, chronic pain and, 218

Eagan, Harvey: Anthology of Christian Mysticism, 71–72

Easwaran, Eknath, 14, 39f, 46t, 79; The Mantram Handbook, 81; Passage Meditation: Bringing the Deep Wisdom of the Heart into Daily Life, 40, 53–54

eating, mindful, 23–24, 29 educational interventions, Passage

Meditation and, 35–36 EDUCIZE (dance therapy), 219–20 Edwards, Tilden, 61

Egyptian Desert experience, 61–62 eight-point program of Passage

Meditation, 35–56, 36t, 79–80

Ein Sof, 109

ekagratha, 43

 

electroencephalogram studies, 19–20 elements of practice, Passage

Meditation and, 10–11t, 12–14, 12f emotionalism, 218

endogenous opioid pathways, pain and, 216–17

endorphins, pain and, 216–17 energizing spiritual practices, 211–12,

215–19, 225

English class, Passage Meditation and, 53–55

epinephrine, 164 “establishing the prayer,” 125 Examen meditation, 191 exemplars, learning from, 47 experiential religion, 209

extreme ritual performances, 212–15

faith traditions: commonalties across, 14; Passage Meditation and, 37–38; practice systems and, 7–8

family caregivers, mantram repetition for, 94–95

fearlessness, 9

Fetzer Institute, 69

fight-or-flight reaction, 164, 216–17

fire-handling, 212–13, 214, 218–19

forgiveness, 9

Freeman, Laurence, 61

Full Catastrophe Living (Kabat-Zinn), 25–26

Gallagher, W., 43

Genjo Koan (Dogen), 167 gentleness, 26

Germer, C. K., 31 Gil, K. M., 28

Gingerich, Orval, 240

God, one hundred names for, 234 Goleman, Daniel, 8; The Meditative

Mind, 1 

grief, 237

guided meditations, 190–91

Hamilton Rating Scale for Depression, 138

Hanh, Thich Nhat, 161; “Am I sure?” 175–76; Teachings on Love, 161

 

Hasanah, C. I., 137

Hasid, Yaakov Koppel, 115 Hatha yoga, 22, 146

health interventions, Passage Meditation and, 46t

hesychia, 63

higher education classes, yoga and, 154–55

Higher Self or Soul, 144

HIV, mantram repetition and, 87, 88,

96–97

Hoelter, L. F., 212

holy name (mantram) repetition, 41–42 hospital-based caregivers, Passage

Meditation and, 48–51 hospitals, Centering Prayer in, 73

The Human Condition: Contemplation and

Transformation (Keating), 67

humanity, 9

humility, 196

hyperarousal, 164, 217–18

hyperstress hypothesis, 218

IAA (intention, attention, and attitude), 30

Ignatian Colleagues Program, 240 illumination in Christian tradition,

195–96

immersion, 226, 240

“Impacts on Future Generations” meditation, 191

Indian mythology, 145–46

Indian yoga, 43

informal mindfulness practices, 8, 22–23

insight meditation, 19

Inspirational Reading, 45, 47 integral contemplative practice

system, 13

integrated contemplative practice, 7, 8–9

intention, mindfulness and, 30 intercession,  226, 231–36 Intimacy with God (Keating), 67 Into the Silent Land (Laird), 71–72 Islamic tradition, contemplative

approach to: applications and interventions, 138–39; context,

 

123–24; cultivation of attitudes, 134–35; dimensions of practice, 124–36; formal practice, 124–25; informal practices, 131; literature review, 136–37; new research directions, 140; obligatory prayers, 124–25; remembrance of Allah, 131–32; specific contemplation and reflection, 133–34; spiritual

models, 135–36

isolation, suffering and, 231–36 Iyengar yoga, 153

James, William, 1

Jantos, Marek: “Prayer as Medicine: How Much Have We

Learned?” 107

Jesus, 124

Jesus Prayer, 61

Jewish contemplative practices, 109–11; applications, 120; in context, 104–7; dimensions of the practices, 107–8; meditation, 114–16; prayer, 111–14; review of literature, 119–20; Sabbath time, 116–19

Jnana yoga, 146

Joplin, Janis, 239

justice, 9

Kabat-Zinn, Jon, 19, 23, 29; on fight- or-flight reaction, 164; Full Catas- trophe Living, 25–26; on preception and stress, 162; turning toward suffering, 167; Zen mindfulness practices, 176

Kaivalya pada, 145

kappa opioid receptors, chronic pain and, 216–17

karma, 166

Karma yoga, 146

kavannot, 106

Keating, Thomas, 61, 62; Divine Therapy and Addition: Centering Prayer and the Twelve Steps, 74; The Human Condition: Contemplation and Transformation, 67; Intimacy with God, 67; Open Mind, Open Heart, 65

 

kenosis, 63

kensho, 173

Khalsa, S. B., 151, 152, 156

khikr, 131–32

Kiat, Hosen: “Prayer as Medicine: How Much Have We Learned?” 107

Kristeller, J., 28

kriyayoga, 145

Kundalini yoga, 146

Kwon, Hee-Soon, 74

Laird, Martin: Into the Silent Land, 71–72

Lakota Sun Dance tradition, 208 lamentation, 226, 227–31

Lazarus, Richard, 70

leadership, contemplative practices and, 197–98

Leadership Calling meditation, 191

lectio divina (sacred reading), 45, 68, 191

letting go, 25

liberal arts education, Passage Meditation and, 53–54

lighting candles, Jewish practice of, 118–19

limbic system, perceptions and, 172 the “little way,” 196

loss: characteristics of people facing, 225; of a child, 237–38; suffering

and, 236

loving kindness, 26

Loyola, Ignatius, 191, 225, 227

Maimonides, Moses, 115

Main, John, 61

maitri (boundless kindliness), 160–61 maladaptive thinking, 87

mantra, 79

Mantra yoga, 146

The Mantram Handbook (Easwaran), 81 mantram repetition, 7, 8, 41–42, 42,

81–84, 82t; applications and interventions, 92–96; author’s experience with, 80–81; choosing a mantram, 81–82; explanation of, 79–80; historical perspectives,

85–86; literature review, 86–87;

mental/cognitive perspective, 87;

 

new research directions, 96–97; physical mechanisms, 86; program of research, 88–89; psychological/emotional mechanisms, 87; published

research, 89–91t; religious/spiritual mechanisms, 88

“Mantram Repetition for Relaxation” (course), 88

mantram walk, 83

Masters, Kevin S., 112, 116; “Prayer and Health,” 107

May, Gerald, 61

MBRE (mindfulness-based relationship enhancement), 29, 30

MBSR (mindfulness-based stress reduc- tion), 8, 9, 19, 28–30, 43, 51;

and poetry, 26–27; and spiritual models, 26–27

McConnell Prison Unit, 73 McCullough, M. E., 108

medical disorders, mindfulness and, 28 meditatio (reflecting), 68, 191 meditation, major approaches, 1

The Meditative Mind (Goleman), 1 Menninger, William, 61

mental centering/stabilizing practices, 8

Merriam, P., 28

metta, 44

Mevlevi order spirituality, 210 Middle Path, 44

Mind-Body Medicine Research Group, 69–70

mindful attitudes, 10–11t mindful awareness, 30

mindful eating, 23–24

mindful practice, 30

mindfulness, 1, 7, 17–31, 163, 192; adverse effects of, 30; applications and interventions, 28–30; context, 18–19; dimensions of the practice, 19–30; and health, 160; neuroscientific study of, 31; new research directions, 30; one- pointed attention, 85; other considerations, 27; Passage Meditations and, 52; popularity of

 

current approach, 2; seven attitu- dinal foundations of, 25–26; and stress response, 19; theoretical and empirical literature, 27–28; three key elements of, 30

mindfulness-based eating awareness, 29 mindfulness-based stress reduction

(MBSR), 8, 19

mitzvot, 104

Mizo spirituality, 210–11

mock hyperstress hypothesis, 218

Molecules of Emotion: The Science Behind Mind-Body Medicine (Pert), 108

Montana State University, 29 Moses (Prophet), 124

Mother Teresa of Calcutta, 196 mothers in labor, mantram repetition

for, 95–96

mudita (sympathetic joy), 161 Muhammad (Prophet), 131

multitasking, 43

Mungo, Savario, 72–73 music: chronic pain and, 218;

spirituality and, 208

music therapy, 220

Muslim spirituality, 209–10

Mythbusters (television), 213

Nadwi, Sulaiman, 125

naming god, 234

Native American spirituality, 208

neshamah (soul), 113

neshimah (breath), 113 neurobiology: meditation and, 160;

Zen and, 169–75

neuroimaging evidence, 9 New Age movement, 213 niyamas, 147

nonattachment, 26

nonavariciousness (aparigrha), 147 nonclinical populations, mindfulness

and, 28

nonfatal myocardial infarction, 42 nonjudging, 25

nonobligatory prayers, Islamic tradition of, 130–31

nonreactivity, 26

nonstealing (asteya), 147

 

nonstriving, 25

nontheistic inspirational passages, 39f nonviolence (ahsima), 147

not-knowing, 165

obligatory prayers, Islamic tradition of, 124–25, 127–30

observing the breath, 20–21

one-pointed attention, 43–44, 45, 85 Open Mind, Open Heart (Keating), 65 oratio (praying), 68, 191

outcome measures, mindfulness and, 30–31

pain, spiritual practice and chronic, 205–22

Pargament, Kenneth I.: Relationship- with-God coping styles, 70

Parvati, 145–46

Passage Meditation: Bringing the Deep Wisdom of the Heart into Daily Life (Easwaran), 40

Passage Meditation (PM), 7, 8, 35–37, 36t, 47; academic coursework and, 53; college course, 51–52; contemporary challenges, 37t; eight-point program, 35–56, 36t; four modeling processes, 47; and health interventions, 46t; by health professionals, 50f; history and con- text, 36–37; instructions, 40; program, 37–45; and spiritual modeling, 47–48; and traditional religion, 46t; transformational nature of, 40; two dimensions of, 40–41; two strengths of, 35–36; and

workplace professionals, 48–51

Patanjali, 143, 144

patience, 25

Peace, Justice and Conflict Studies program, 155

“Peace for Activists,” 154 Peck, Edward, 240

Pennington, Basil, 61

Pentecostal spirituality, 209, 211–12,

214, 217–18

perceived threats, 175–76

personal koans, 176

 

Pert, Candace: Molecules of Emotion: The Science Behind Mind-Body Medicine, 108

pilgrimage, 226, 238–40

Pizzuto, Vincent, 71–72 PM. See Passage Meditation

poetry, spiritual modeling and, 26–27 Poloma, M. M., 212

positive emotional states, mindfulness and, 19

posttraumatic stress disorder, 44, 93

powerlessness, 236

practice systems, 7–8, 10–11t praise, spiritual practice and, 235

pranayama (yogic breathing), 146, 147 pratyahara (sensory withdrawal), 148 “Prayer and Health” (Masters), 107 “Prayer as Medicine: How Much

Have We Learned?” ( Jantos and Kiat), 107

prayer of intention, 66

Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, 38f, 53 prayer (pillar of Islam), 124–30 precari, 112

prescribed  postures,  9 prescribed prayers (Islamic), 126 Prier dans le Secret, 74

Prince, R., 218

prison, Centering Prayer and, 72 Prophet Muhammad, 131, 135–36

Psalm 23, 38f

psychological interventions, Passage Meditation and, 35–36

psychotherapy: Centering Prayer as adjunct in, 73; chronic pain and, 221; Muslims and, 137

PTSD (posttraumatic stress disorder), 44, 93

purification in Christian tradition, 193–95

Putting Others First, 44

Raja yoga, 146

Ralte, Lalrinawmi, 210–11 Ravindran, A. V., 152 Ravindran, L. N. B., 152 Razali, S. M., 137 receptive meditation, 66

 

receptivity, 239

Reed, J., 28

relapse prevention, mindfulness-based, 29, 37

Relationship-with-God coping styles, 70

relaxation response, 86

Relaxation Response (Benson), 42 religiosity and mental health, 136–37 religious psychotherapy with Muslims,

137–38

Religious Science/Science of Mind, 70 right view, Zen and, 175–76

Rinzai Zen, 162

ritual performances, extreme, 212–15 ritual washing, Jewish practice of,

118–19

Robbins, Tony, 213

rock music, spirituality and, 215 Roshi, Darlene Cohen, 247; Turning

Suffering Inside Out, 176 Rumi, Jalaluddin, 26–27, 39f, 210

“runner’s high,” 216–217 Ryan, R. M., 30

Sabbath, 107

sacred words, 65, 66

Sadhana pada, 145

Samadhi pada, 145

samadhi (union with the Divine), 148 Santa Clara University, 29

sati, 17

satori, 173

Scholasticism, 64 Schwartz, G. E., 26

SCT (social cognitive theory), 48 self-efficacy, 48

Self-Realization, 145

Selfless Insights (Austin), 169

Sema (whirling dervish dance), 209–10 serotonin pathways, pain and, 215–16 serpent handling, 214–15

set-aside time, 8–9, 10–11t

Shabbat, 116

Shalem Institute, 61

shared themes, 7–14

sheaths of being (koshas), 144 Shema, 113

 

Siegel, Daniel J., 18–19

Silicon Valley, cultural aspects of, 183 Silicon Valley leaders, meditation

practices of, 183–201

sitting meditation, 8, 20

“slain in the spirit” injuries, 212 slowing down, 42, 43, 45

smrti, 17

social cognitive theory (SCT), 47, 48 social support, importance of, 45 Soeng, Mu, 165

“Song of the Jewel Mirror Samadhi,” 167

Soto Zen, 161, 162

Sperry, Len, 73

Spezio, Michael, 69

Spiritual Association, 45

“spiritual but not religious,” 35, 36t spiritual content, absorption of, 40 spiritual edgework, 212–15

“Spiritual Engagement Project,” 69–70 spiritual fellowship, 13

spiritual journey in Christian tradition, 192–93

spiritual modeling, 26–27, 36, 47 spiritual modeling theory, Passage Meditations and, 51–52

spiritual models, 9, 10–11t, 26–27,

46–48

spiritual practice, U.S. adult interest in, 13

spiritual shopping, 13

spirituality, 9; chronic pain and, 206–7; mindfulness and, 28; physical phenomena and, 211; in the workplace, 14

Spirituality and Health Institute (SHI), 8

Spirituality for Organizational Leadership, 183–84; leadership day, meditative practices and the, 197–98; meditation forms, 190–92; overall pedagogy, 184–86; presence meditation, 186–87; role of contemporary organizations, 187–90

St. Benedict’s Rule, 62 St. Francis de Sales, 65

 

St. John of the Cross, 62 St. Mary Marish, 61

St. Therese of Lisieux, 196 stabilizing, practices for, 9 Strength in the Storm, 88 stress, Zen and, 162–64 stress hormones, 164

stress management, mindfulness and, 19, 28

stress responses, 169–75 stressors, chronic and acute, 19 study of sacred scriptures

(svadhayaya), 147

Subramaniam, M., 137 Sudarshan Kriya Yoga, 153

suffering: coping and, 230; spiritual dimensions of, 226–27

Sufi spirituality, 209–10 Sun Dance tradition, 208 Sunnah, 123, 135–36

supplication, Islamic practice of, 132 support groups, Centering Prayer and, 72 surrender to God (isvara pranidhana), 147 Sutras. See Yoga Sutras

sympathetic joy, 161 Syncletica, Desert Mother, 63

tafakkur, 122

Tao Te Ching, 39

Teachings on Love (Hanh), 161 temperance, 9

Templeton Foundation, 69

Tetragrammaton, 106

theistic inspirational passages, 38–39f Thoresen, C. E., 105

time commitment, set-aside, 8–9, 19–20 time/urgency and impatience

syndrome, 42

Tong Len, 185, 191, 192

Toronto Airport Christian Fellowship (TACF), 211

“Toronto Blessing,” 211 traditional religion, Passage

Meditations and, 46t Training the Senses, 44 transcendence, 9

Transcendental Meditation (TM), 37, 86, 192

 

trust, 25

truthfulness (satya), 147

Turning Suffering Inside Out

(Roshi), 176

Twelve Step programs, 239

Twelve Step recovery, Centering Prayer and, 74

Universal Self, 145

Universal Spirit (Brahman), 143, 144 Upanishads, 39f

upeksha (boundless equanimity), 160–61

Varma, 137, 138

Vatican II, 62

Vedas (1700–900 BCE), 143, 144

Vibhuti pada, 145

Vieten, Cassandra, 69–70

Vipassana, 19, 37

virtues and character strengths, 9

W., Bill, 239

walking meditation, 24–25, 192

Walsh, Roger N., 14, 107

Weil, Simone, 226–27

Welcoming Prayer, 68

“whirling dervish” dance, 209–10 Whitman, Walt, 26–27

widu, 127

Willemsen, Eleanor, 70

wisdom, 9

“Without Fear” (Zen story), 159

 

work-free Sabbath, Jewish practice of, 119

workplace professionals, Passage Meditation and, 48–51

World Community for Christian Meditation, 61

worldview, valid and coherent, 13

yamas, 147

Yoga: applications and interventions, 154–55; contemplative practice of, 144–46, 146–51; eight limbs of, 147; new research directions, 156–57; as a practical discipline, 148; review of literature, 151–52; schools of, 146; system of Indian thought, 143

Yoga Sutras, 143–47

yogic breathing, 147

Your Personal Renaissance (Dreher), 53–54

zazen (Zen sitting meditation), 161, 171

Zen and the Brain (Austin), 169

Zen-Brain Reflections (Austin), 169 Zen practice: applications, 175–76;

fearlessness and awakening, 173–74; lore, 159; oneness with

circumstances, 166–68; perception

and suffering, 162, 163; serenity and, 160–62; sitting meditation (zazen), 161, 171; and well-being

(scientific perspective), 169–75

 

This page intentionally left blank

 

About the Editor and Contributors

The Editor

THOMAS G. PLANTE, PhD, ABPP, is professor of psychology at Santa Clara University and adjunct clinical professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Stanford University School of Medicine. He directs the Spirituality and Health Institute at Santa Clara University and currently serves as vice-chair of the National Review Board for the Protection of Children for the U.S. Council of Catholic Bishops. He is president-elect of the Psychology and Religion Division (Division 36) of the American Psychological Association. He has authored or edited 12 books including, most recently, Spiritual Practices in Psychotherapy: Thirteen Tools for Enhancing Psychological Health (2009, American Psycho- logical Association) and Spirit, Science and Health: How the Spiritual Mind Fuels Physical Wellness (with Carl Thoresen; 2007, Greenwood), as well as published over 150 scholarly professional journal articles and book chapters. Through his private practice he has evaluated or treated more than 600 priests and applicants to the Roman Catholic and Episcopalian priesthood and diaconate and has served as a consultant for a number of Roman Catholic dioceses and religious orders.

The Contributors

JILL E. BORMANN, PhD, RN, is a research nurse scientist at the VA San Diego Healthcare System and an adjunct associate professor at San Diego State University School of Nursing. She conducts a

 

program of research on the health benefits of a mantram repetition intervention in both veteran and nonveteran groups.

DARLENE COHEN ROSHI, MA, is a Zen priest and Dharma heir in the Suzuki-roshi lineage, trained at the San Francisco Zen Center. She is conducting a National Science Foundation–funded study on the relationship between Zen and stress reduction in the workplace entitled “A Study in Contemplative Multi-Tasking,” which is based on her book The One Who Is Not Busy.

ANDRE L. DELBECQ, PhD, is the J. Thomas and Kathleen McCarthy University Professor at Santa Clara University, where he served as dean of the Leavey School of Business from 1979 to 1989. His research and scholarship have focused on executive decision mak- ing, managing innovation in rapid-change environments, and organi- zational spirituality. He is the eighth dean of Fellows of the Academy of Management. He currently directs the Institute for Spirituality of Organizational Leadership at Santa Clara University, which conducts dialogues between theologians, management scholars, and executives.

DIANE DREHER, PhD, is a professor of English at Santa Clara University. Her most recent book is Your Personal Renaissance: 12 Steps to Finding Your Life’s True Calling (Perseus).

JANE K. FERGUSON, DMin, is Parish Partnerships Director for Catholic Charities CYO in San Francisco.

CAROL FLINDERS, PhD, has taught courses on mysticism at the University of California–Berkeley, and the Graduate Theological Union–Berkeley. Her most recent book is Enduring Lives: Portraits of Women of Faith and Action (Tarcher/Putnam).

TIM FLINDERS, MA, is the author of The Rise Response: Illness, Well- ness & Spirituality, and coauthor of The Making of a Teacher. He teaches courses on contemplative spirituality at the Sophia Center for Culture and Spirituality, Holy Names University, Oakland, California.

AISHA HAMDAN, PhD, is an assistant professor of behavioral sci- ences in the College of Medicine at the University of Sharjah, United Arab Emirates. She has authored over 100 international magazine articles, several journal articles, and two books related to Islam:

 

Nurturing Emaan in Children and Psychology from an Islamic Perspective

(forthcoming from International Islamic Publishing House).

HOORIA JAZAIERI, BS, is a graduate student in counseling psychol- ogy at Santa Clara University and is a research assistant at Stanford University.

DAVID LEVY, PhD, is a professor in the Information School at the University of Washington and has focused on bringing mindfulness training and other contemplative practices to address problems of information overload and acceleration.

GERDENIO MANUEL, SJ, PhD, is an associate professor of psy- chology and rector of the Santa Clara University Jesuit Community. He has published articles on coping with stress and traumatic life events, and the relationship of psychology, faith, and religious life. He is a Jesuit priest as well as a clinical psychologist.

DOUG OMAN, PhD, is adjunct assistant professor in the School of Public Health, University of California–Berkeley. His research focuses on psychosocial factors in health, especially spirituality and religion. A major current interest is applications to spirituality of Albert Bandura’s social cognitive and self-efficacy theories. Oman’s research publica- tions have explored how longevity is affected by religious involvement, how to conceptualize and measure spiritual modeling (the social learn- ing of spiritual qualities), how various modes of meditation may foster spiritual modeling, and how spiritual modeling may be integrated into college education. He has led randomized trials of spiritual forms of meditation for college students and health professionals.

MICHELLE J. PEARCE, PhD, is an assistant clinical professor in the Duke University Medical Center, Department of Psychiatry and Behav- ioral Sciences. She is trained in clinical health psychology and helps medi- cal patients cope with the stress and lifestyle changes of chronic illness.

ADI RAZ, BS, is a counseling psychology graduate student at the Institute of Transpersonal Psychology, Palo Alto, California.

T. ANNE RICHARDS, MA, is an interdisciplinary  social  scientist in anthropology and psychology. She retired from the University of California–San Francisco and –Berkeley and now continues working

 

on special projects. She is a graduate of the advanced-studies program at the Yoga Room in Berkeley. Her publications include: “Spiritual Resources Following a Partner’s Death from AIDS” in Meaning Reconstruction and the Experience of Loss and “The Effects of a Spiritu- ally  Based  Intervention   on   Self-Management   in   the   Workplace: A Qualitative Examination” in the Journal of Advanced Nursing.

SHAUNA L. SHAPIRO, PhD, is an associate professor of counseling psychology and author of numerous articles and chapters on mindful- ness. Her recent book is The Art and Science of Mindfulness (American Psychological Association).

HUSTON SMITH, PhD, is Thomas J. Watson Professor of Religion and Distinguished Adjunct Professor of Philosophy, Emeritus, Syracuse University. For 15 years he was professor of philosophy at MIT and for a decade before that he taught at Washington University in St. Louis. Most recently he has served as visiting professor of religious studies, Uni- versity of California–Berkeley. Holder of 12 honorary degrees, Smith’s 14 books include The World’s Religions, which has sold over 2.5 million copies, and Why Religion Matters, which won the Wilbur Award for the best book on religion published in 2001. In 1996 Bill Moyers devoted a five-part PBS special, The Wisdom of Faith with Huston Smith, to his life and work. His film documentaries on Hinduism, Tibetan Buddhism, and Sufism have all won international. awards, and the Journal of Ethno- musicology lauded his discovery of Tibetan multiphonic chanting, Music of Tibet, as “an important landmark in the study of music.”

MARTHA E. STORTZ, PhD, is professor of historical theology and ethics at the Pacific Lutheran Theological Seminary at the Graduate Theological Union and a consultant. She is author of A World According to God (2004) and Blessed to Follow (2008).

SARITA TAMAYO-MORAGA, PhD, is a Zen priest in the Suzuki- roshi lineage and a lecturer at Santa Clara University in the Religious Studies Department.

AMY B. WACHHOLTZ, PhD, MDiv, is an assistant professor of psychiatry at the University of Massachusetts Medical School, and the health psychologist on the Psychosomatic Medicine Consult Service at UMass Memorial Medical Center.

 

ZARI WEISS focuses on bringing spiritual direction to the Jewish community and has written a number of articles on the subject. She is currently the chair of the Committee on Rabbinic Spirituality, a past member of the Spiritual Leadership Task Force and the Wellness Committee of the CCAR, and past copresident of the Women’s Rabbinic Network.

Contemplative Practices in Action 14] Contemplative Practices in Action: Now What?

 14] Contemplative Practices in Action: Now What?

Thomas G. Plante and Adi Raz

This book has attempted to bring together many different and thought- ful voices among professionals who specialize in the integration of spiri- tual and religious contemplative practices and apply these practices to the development of a higher quality life by enhancing well-being, stress management, wholeness, and healing of body, mind, and spirit. They come from Eastern and Western traditions as well as the integration of the two. They represent Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Hindi, Buddhist, Zen, and other approaches. To our knowledge, no other book has offered this integrative and multitradition approach to applied contem- plative practices in both a scholarly and practical way.

The various religious and spiritual traditions all have something important to offer us in terms of contemplative practices. While there are only so many voices that can be heard in one volume, it is clear that there are several unified factors or commonalities present among the traditions. Oman well articulated four similar functions that are elemental in many of the contemplative systems discussed in this book. Most approaches involve setting aside time for practices that reshape and train attention; most also include strategies for centering oneself throughout the day, cultivating personal character strengths, and drawing inspiration and guidance from spiritual exemplars or models. Many of these contemplative practices are more similar than different in terms of their approach and outcomes, while language, culture,

 

and history make each unique and special, perhaps suitable for some people more than others.

Too often we hear in the news and in professional circles that there is a great deal of misunderstanding and often tremendous conflict among and between the religious and spiritual traditions. Many pro- fessionals are also not well versed in spiritual and religious matters including contemplative practices.1 In this project, we brought together Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Hindi, Buddhist, Zen, and others for thoughtful, reflective, and productive collaboration. Some of the contributors include members of the clergy as well (e.g., a rabbi, a Catholic priest, a Zen priest) and several colleagues who are very closely identified with their religious and spiritual tradition and who are devout. Throughout the process of developing this book, including an all-day conference in late 2009, the contributors openly discussed their chapter ideas and learned from each other in a welcoming, honest, and thoughtful manner. They each read and commented on various drafts along the way as well. Everyone had the opportunity to provide feedback for each chapter on multiple occasions. Thus, the efforts of each chapter contributor were informed by careful and thoughtful feedback from all of the other contributors, and the project was there- fore truly collaborative in every way.

This book project represents the third edited book that our team at

the Spirituality and Health Institute at Santa Clara University have now published that bring together experts and students from the vari- ous spiritual and religious traditions in psychology, religious studies, public health, nursing, science, literature, and several other fields.2,3 Our institute includes quarterly extended lunch meetings to discuss a wide variety of multidisciplinary and multifaith research, teaching, conference, and book projects as well as collaboration on many other related topics as they arise. We fondly begin our meetings with the question, “Where might the spirit lead us this time?” We are never disappointed at the end of our discussions. Our lunch table includes clergy, professors from many academic disciplines (e.g., psychology, religious studies, biostatistics, public health, engineering, philosophy, English literature), students from a variety of disciplines, and commu- nity leaders in faith-based, nonprofit, social service agencies. Perhaps this institute and current book project could serve as a model of what could be done elsewhere in both professional and lay circles. We do a lot on a little lunch money.

The religious and spiritual traditions offer much. There is much to

learn and celebrate when thoughtful and well-meaning people with

 

Contemplative Practices in Action: Now What? 245

skills and perspectives that are informed by their spiritual and reli- gious traditions come together and learn from each other with an open, caring, and respectful manner. Having table fellowship around meals helps to enhance the working and personal relationships as well. We hope that our book project will be a contribution in the right direction for interfaith understanding and benefits, and might stimu- late further reflection, research, and application and in doing so, make the world a better place.

Since this volume was not able to address all of the contemplative approaches from the spiritual and religious traditions, future books are clearly needed in our view. Future projects might continue to examine how these and other contemplative approaches can be best understood and used in health promotion broadly defined. Further research may wish to expand in both the empirical and theoretical direction. Empirical research might examine how contemplative prac- tices are most effective with certain populations as well as what role belief in and practice of contemplative practices might play in obtaining the greatest desired effect. Future research may also investi- gate the effectiveness of these practices from a cultural, socioeconomic, or religion of origin lens in order to determine how these factors might influence their effectiveness in daily life. As we could offer only but a taste of what the world’s religions and spiritual traditions have to offer in regards to contemplative practices, future volumes may wish to examine traditions not represented in this book (e.g., Sikhism, Jainism, Taoism, Confucianism, Shamanism, Paganism). Furthermore, many additional contemplative practices within the major traditions presented in this book could be discussed in more detail in future volumes. For example, the Christian tradition includes many different contempla- tive approaches from various Roman Catholic religious orders and traditions as well as many Protestant groups. Future research may also further investigate other contemplative mind-body connections, dis- cussing the myriad ways in which, for example, exercise from hiking in nature to dance can be both contemplative and healing within a par- ticular contemplative practice system. A further look at the use of nature or dreams in contemplative practices may also be warranted in subsequent volumes as well.

It is apparent that there are many options for individuals to choose

when using contemplative practices to make the lifestyle change from mindlessness to mindfulness. The various chapters in this volume address using contemplative practices to better manage the many challenges that arise in daily life. It is our hope that this book will serve

 

as an enlightening and thought-provoking guide to those searching for a more thoughtful, mindful, spiritual, and contemplative path to healing, stress relief, and overall well-being, perhaps for themselves and for others with whom they work. We hope that this book has brought forth a way for individuals to experience a new tradition or provided some insight into how their own tradition approaches the contemplative path. Contemplative practices in action can be both wide and deep with many roads to follow. Perhaps all lead to a better quality of life when used thoughtfully and sincerely.

REFERENCES

1. Plante, T. G. (2009). Spiritual practices in psychotherapy: Thirteen tools for enhancing psychological health. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association.

2. Plante, T. G., & Thoresen, C. E. (Eds.) (2007). Spirit, science and health: How the spiritual mind fuels physical wellness. Westport, CT: Praeger/Greenwood.

3. Plante, T. G., & Sherman, A. S. (Eds.) (2001). Faith and health: Psycho- logical perspectives. New York: Guilford.

 

Contemplative Practices in Action 13] A Pilgrimage from Suffering to Solidarity: Walking the Path of Contemplative Practices

 13] A Pilgrimage from Suffering to Solidarity: Walking the Path of Contemplative Practices

Gerdenio Manuel, SJ, and Martha E. Stortz

This final contribution serves as a kind of paradigm case in two ways. First, it treats a specific form of stress, suffering, and it addresses three common characteristics of people facing loss: denial, isolation, and the need for control. Second, it reaches deep within a particular tradition, Christianity, for practices that address these characteristics: lamenta- tion, intercession, and pilgrimage. While some of the practices in this book fall into the category of “calming” practices (Centering Prayer, mantram repetition, the Eight-Point Program), these practices are “expressive,” more like the “energizing” practices discussed in Amy Wachholz’s contribution. These practices handle negative emotions, which have an important place in psychic and spiritual health for indi- viduals and communities.

Indeed, these practices have not just an inner dimension but a social dimension. Advocacy emerges as the outer dimension of lamentation, as those who mourn give voice to the sufferings of others. Accompani- ment stands as the outer dimension of intercession, a focused solidarity with the suffering of another person or community. Finally, immersion, the ability to simply be present for and with others without judgment or distance, remedy or analysis, comes as the outer dimension of pil- grimage. In their inner and outer dimensions, these practices offer a powerful example of what Ignatius Loyola called “contemplation in action.”

 

INTRODUCTION

The loss of a partner, the death of a child, an unexpected diagnosis, a job terminated, the devastating breakup, the experience of margin- alization: suddenly and irrevocably the landscape of the familiar alters. People find themselves lost in the terrain of suffering. They seek solace; yet, denial, isolation, and need for control block the path.

Suffering fragments the soul, whether the soul of a person, a rela- tionship, or a people. What was once integral implodes, and the pieces scatter from a center that no longer holds. Philosopher Simone Weil (1977) identified physical, social, and spiritual dimensions of suffering: physical pain, social degradation, and distress of the soul.1 Coping with suffering requires “re-membering,” literally, forging these scat- tered fragments into a new whole.

Contemplative practices point the way, for the journey from suffering to solidarity is a spiritual one. They reveal a path from denial to accep- tance, from isolation to communion; and finally, from the need to con- trol to surrender. Contemplation aims at union with God, “a long loving look at what is real.”2 Suffering makes God seem distant, remote, even cruel. Suffering blocks union with God, and the psalmist shouts in despair: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1). Those words were also on the lips of Jesus, who is for Christians the human face of God (Mark 15:34). Through Jesus’s life and death, God experienced the full range of human suffering. Through incarnation

God comes into the midst of human suffering.

This contribution examines concrete contemplative practices that invite encounter with the suffering God. Lamentation encourages people to claim suffering, rather than cutting it out with the razor of denial. Intercession opens victims to those around them, who then become fellow travelers. Finally, pilgrimage places people on a path where the journey supplants the destination, pointing to the mystery of a suffering God.

Too often contemplative practices are prescribed as the remedy for individual suffering. We argue that they also point to solidarity with others. We met people whose hard-won compassion opened them to the suffering of others. These practices have then an outer as well as an inner dimension, creating solidarity even as they console. Speaking out for those whom affliction has silenced, advocacy becomes the outer dimension of lamentation. A focused solidarity with the suffering of others, accompaniment stands as the outer dimension of intercession. Finally, in its diffuse availability to the suffering of the world, immersion is the outer dimension of pilgrimage.

 

In their inner and outer dimensions, these contemplative practices connect personal suffering to communal and global realities. They knit together the personal and the social, offering a powerful example of what Ignatius Loyola (1556) called “contemplation in action.”3 In so doing, they carve a path from being a victim to becoming a survivor to acting for change in the world. This volume’s title captures the impulse to solidarity: Contemplative Practices in Action.

We bring to this project our own experience of suffering, and we remain marked by the suffering of loved ones. As teachers and ministers, we have witnessed the suffering of near and distant neighbors. Finally, as citizens of the world, we have witnessed the genocides of Serbia and Croatia, Darfur and Rwanda, the killing fields of Cambodia, the prisons of Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo, and Tehran’s Evin. We see the daily insult of poverty and disease. Suffering people seek the solace contem- plative practices offer; they are aroused to action by the solidarity contemplative practices invite.

At the outset, we identify three concrete contemplative practices: lamentation, which moves people from denial to assent; intercession, which points from isolation toward communion; and pilgrimage, which liberates people from the need to control to surrender. In each section, we begin with experience, then examine the specific practice, concluding with its outer dimension. In this we hope to highlight the difference contemplative practices make, not simply for the one suf- fering, but for a broken world.

LAMENTATION: FROM DENIAL TO ASSENT TO ADVOCACY

In its inability to acknowledge what is real, denial is a first protest against suffering. Denial wants the world to be what it was before. Buttressed by excuses, fortified by fantasy, driven by dissociation, and quick to blame, denial takes work. Finally, it wears people out and wears them down.4

Moving out of denial takes work as well. Four stages capture the movement:

1. “This isn’t happening!”

He was shocked. He had always known his wife drank a lot, some- times to excess—but she was not an alcoholic! All she drank was wine and occasionally a little too much. He made excuses for her;

 

he believed her own excuses, telling himself she was just “coming down with something.” When the children were younger and their mom was moody and lethargic, they believed him too. Now they were older. He felt under siege, on one hand from his wife’s anger, on the other from their children’s exasperation with them both. He talked to her about drinking, and he believed her repeated prom- ises to cut back.

Then, one day when their mother was not home, the children confronted him.

They showed him all of her secret stashes of alcohol—including hard liquor. He felt tricked; he needed to talk. He had needed to talk for years.

This man faces multiple losses: the loss of a fantasy, a partner, his children’s respect, confidence in his own judgment. If he is ready to talk, he is ready to move out of denial. That means leaving behind a pattern of behavior characteristic of denial: making excuses and living a fantasy.

2. “This isn’t happening to me!”

For years he prided himself on not needing doctors. Regular exercise kept him lean. He looked good; he felt good; he convinced himself he was invincible. He had experienced some discomfort after eating for years but never believed it to be anything an antacid tablet could not relieve. Gradually, he lost his usual energy. When night sweats broke out, his wife marched him to the doctor, who had ordered preliminary tests for colon cancer, the disease that claimed his father. Now the doctor walked into the examining room looking worried: “Let’s just hope we can stop it from progressing to the other organs.”

This man felt he could be an exception, denying medical data that he had actually known, but somehow did not think applied to him. He ignored family pressure to be tested regularly; he had even ignored his own body’s complaints. Moving out of denial means leaving behind an ingrained pattern of behavior: dissociation from information, from family, even from his own body.

3. “This is happening—let’s find out who’s to blame!”

When President Clinton read Philip Gourevitch’s expose´ on the Rwandan genocide, he angrily forwarded a marked copy to national

 

security advisor Sandy Berger. “Is what he’s saying true?” “How did this happen?” “I want to get to the bottom of this!” When news of mass slaughter first surfaced, Clinton had shown no interest. Once the story hit the media, however, he resorted to an excuse the German people used after the Holocaust: “How come we didn’t know what was going on?” It was the same move President George

W. Bush would make a decade later on Darfur.5

Rwanda was set on the administration’s back burner until the pot boiled over. When the situation became too blatant to ignore, some- one else was at fault. The fact that Clinton responded to Gourevitch’s article so passionately indicates a readiness to acknowledge the slaughter, but an unwillingness to take responsibility. To do so, though, he has to abandon another pattern of behavior associated with denial: the need to blame someone else.

4. “I can embrace this.”

In the immediate aftermath of her stroke, the woman woke every morning thinking it had all just been a bad dream. When she opened her eyes, she was in an unfamiliar room. Nurses helped her into a chair for breakfast. “A stroke paralyzed my left side,” she repeated. As she improved, she recovered a sense of agency, and her mantra changed: “I’m using the purple tie-dyed cane my grand- daughter gave me.” She hobbled out of the skilled-nursing facility on her purple cane. Months later, she returned to the facility to thank her caregivers—and give them her cane: “Someone else may need it more than I do.”

Denial is not reserved for addiction or willful ignorance. It is also used by people who have found their lives altered by forces beyond their control. Ambushed by her own circulatory system, this woman fantasizes the stroke was just a “bad dream.” When she opens her eyes each morning, she can no longer maintain that fiction. Initially, she sees herself as a victim. Her early response represents a rudimentary lament: “A stroke paralyzed me.” She narrates her story as a victim of circumstance. Repetition forces her to listen. Gradually she claims her loss, asserting agency. She becomes a survivor: “I use a cane.” As she heals, she becomes an advocate: she donates the cane to some- one else. This woman has embraced her loss. She not only has let her loss “bless her,” she ensures that her loss will bless someone else.6

 

This woman’s story captures the clinical distinction between passive suffering and active coping. Suffering is something that happens to people, bearing down on them like a train with failed brakes. People who suffer refer to themselves in accusative case: “The stroke weakened me.” Active coping is different. Picking up the pieces of loss, coping uses nominative case: “I use a cane to get my balance.” Coping takes charge of suffering.7 Beyond coping is advocacy: this woman gave her cane to someone else.

DEALING WITH DENIAL: THE PRACTICE OF LAMENTATION

The practice of lamentation moves people from suffering to assent to advocacy. Lamentation invites people to speak the unspeakable. As they put words around their suffering, they begin to cope, claiming an agency that has been trampled by silence. In finding a language for their suffering, they give voice to others, who find words to express their own afflictions. Lamentation gives public voice to pain, and in so doing it creates a space of resistance, even hope.

The psalms of the Hebrew Bible stand as classic expressions of per- sonal and social loss. Almost a third are psalms of lament, signaling to worshipers that “authentic worship” emerges only when people bring their deepest pain and most flagrant examples of injustice before God. The God of the Hebrew Scriptures wants people to wail. Loss should not be left outside the synagogue: it belongs inside public worship. Otherwise, worship remains “a shallow affair.”8

These laments address God directly, demanding response. The language is that of command. Over and over again, the psalmist orders God to “Listen up!” “Hear my prayer!” “Hearken to me!” (Psalms 5:1; 55:2–3; 86:1). At other times, the psalmist begs for compassion: “Have mercy on me!” (51:3; 56:2; 57:2). When God seems distant or remote, the psalmist wails even louder: “Don’t rebuke me in your anger!” (6:2). “Don’t be silent!” (109:1). The psalms of lament offer evidence that people suffering get to protest—long and loudly.

In these lamentations, the agency of the one suffering shifts fluidly between being a victim and being a survivor, between accusative and nominative cases. Lament itself invites a kind of agency. People still suffer—but they get to protest. That protest takes on a fourfold form. First, lamentation invites people to name the particularity of their suffer- ing: “All your waves and your billows have gone over me” (Psalm 42:7). This graphic image carries the pain of suffering. Second, lament projects the very real presence of an enemy: “Many bulls encircle me ... 

 

they open wide their mouths at me, like a ravening and roaring lion” (Psalm 22:12–13). Lamentation invites vivid descriptions of danger. Third, the psalmist wrestles with depression: “I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint” (Psalm 22:14). Often, to calm an inquiet soul, the psalmist calls happier times to mind: “By the rivers of Babylon—there we sat down and there we wept, when we remem- bered Zion” (Psalm 137:1). Finally, the presence of God is as real as the presence of the enemy. Psalms begin in direct address, boldly addressing God as “You.” In spite of everything, there is someone listen- ing. Indeed, lament reinforces the sense that all suffering happens within the divine embrace. Lament joins with praise as part of a system of respi- ration that lives in God. Lament invites people into the divine mystery. St. Augustine observes: “If your love is without ceasing, you are crying out always; if you always cry out, you are always desiring; and if you desire, you are calling to mind your eternal rest in the Lord If the

desire is there, then the groaning is there as well. Even if people fail to hear it, it never ceases to sound in the hearing of God.”9

A survivor of 9/11 made it out of the collapsing towers alive, but many of his colleagues did not. He made a habit of heading to the ocean and yelling into the crashing surf: “How could you do this to us?” The practice consoled him. In the midst of aching loss, there was someone to yell at, someone listening. The psalms of lament tell us that the practice is deeply traditioned.

Having given voice to longing and despair, the survivor leaves words that someone else can use. Jesus reportedly died with the psalmist’s lament on his lips: “My God, my God, why have you for- saken me!” (Mark 15:34). He could find no language to express his own pain, so he borrowed the words of Psalm 22. Someone else had been in that place, and their words became his.

The practice of lamentation invites people out of denial, urging them to voice their pains and express their loss in all its awful particu- larity. Lament leaves a language for others to draw upon, as they search for words that speak the unspeakable. Finally, advocacy is speaking for others, who may not have words of their own.

INTERCESSION: FROM ISOLATION TO COMMUNITY TO ACCOMPANIMENT

Suffering grinds people down. It is hard to experience anything but pain; it is hard for others to share that experience. The contemplative

 

practice of intercession invites people to ask for what they need, for themselves and for others. It follows from the practice of lamentation: having found a voice in lament, intercession encourages people to use it. The outer dimension of intercession is accompaniment, which incarnates its prayer.

1. Noli tangere! Don’t touch!

In the weeks after her husband died, the woman remembered grocery shopping at 5 a.m. She was awake anyway—but that was not the only reason. The truth was she could not stand to see anyone she knew. Their expressions of sympathy felt like body blows. When she had to go out later in the day, she wore sunglasses. In time, she noticed people giving her a wide berth: they nodded, but did not approach. That did not feel right either. She hated being alone.

From ancient times lepers were banished to the outskirts of villages and towns. In the Hawaiian chain, Molokai became an island leper colony. Anyone who had the disease was sent there with a one-way ticket. Suffering isolates people. They lose friends on top of every- thing else. While some can stand with them, others drop off the radar screen entirely. “It’s as if this were contagious,” the woman above observed. “If they get too close, they’ll lose their partners too.” The people she thought would be there couldn’t—and people she hadn’t even thought of turned up in their place.

People experiencing loss also isolate themselves, like the woman in this story. They exasperate friends who are able to be there. One of the woman’s friends—it was not one of her “best” friends either— finally got so frustrated, she phoned the house and simply started talk- ing to the answering machine: “I’m going to talk until you pick up the phone. I’m worried about you. We all are. We can’t figure out how to help. You have to tell us what you need.” Only then did the woman answer. Often people experiencing loss create what they most fear: isolation. Suffering imposes isolation; it takes a lot of determination on all sides to break through to connection.

2. Ask for what you need.

The adult children watched their parents diminish with growing concern. They still lived in the family home. But when the parents became too scattered to drive, the kids took away the car keys. Eventually, they even had to forbid their father to walk to the market, because he could not get across the street before the light changed.

 

When a crisis forced the children to deal with their mother’s gath- ering dementia, they had to find a nursing home that would accept Alzheimer’s patients. After intensive networking, interviews—and prayer, a bed opened in a nearby facility. “This is a godsend!” the eldest son exclaimed.

Crisis often clarifies need. Before their mother left a burner on all day, her six adult children had seven different opinions about what should happen. Then suddenly they knew what they needed. Finding the right facility took a lot of legwork, but for this particular family, it also took prayer. They asked for God’s help, confident that the Creator of the uni- verse would also be interested in finding the right place for their mother. After all, they had been raised in a tradition that taught them to “Ask, and it will be given you” (Matthew 7:7). They believed that God hears prayer. That did not mean getting what they had wanted all the time, but it did mean living in relationship with a God who responded, not always on demand, but in mysterious, even inscrutable ways.

3. It is important simply to ask.

The delegation from Santa Clara University had lunch at a tiny res- taurant in the highlands of Guatemala. The only other customers were a group of dirty, sweaty people who ate quickly and left in flatbed trucks with blue tarps lashed over the tops. Later that afternoon, they visited a village that was the site of a mass grave. As the villagers told the stories of the civil war, one of them mentioned that a team of forensic scientists had been there that morning, exhuming bodies for identifi- cation. The group quickly realized they had dined alongside the scien- tists earlier that day. Stunned, a delegate asked: “What do you need?” There was a ready answer, and they heard it through the translator: “Pray for us. Go back to your own country and tell our stories.”

Often what is needed is not as concrete as a care facility, a job, or a peace treaty. What comfort could this delegation offer a village ravaged by war? The villagers asked simply for their presence, their ability to be with them in their suffering. They asked for their voice, telling the delegates to share their stories. Finally, they asked for accompaniment in their struggle. Members of the delegation took accompaniment seriously, remembering the villagers’ stories in their presentations and their prayers back in El Norte. “Those people are still with me,” said a woman, “even after all these years.” Interces- sion reminded her that people depended on her to bear their pain.

 

She carried those people—and they carried her. When suffering pushes people beyond the limits of human effort, there is nothing to do but be with people in their suffering.

BREAKING THROUGH ISOLATION TO CONNECTION: THE PRACTICE OF INTERCESSION

The practice of intercessory prayer opens people to connection with God, to their own needs, and to the needs of others. It frees people to be present to the mystery of divine compassion, and it frees them to be compassionate with one  another.  In its  dimensions of address, praise, and petition, intercession leads necessarily to accompaniment.

Intercession begins in address; petitioners name the mystery to

whom they pray. As the chapters in this volume show, religious tradi- tions exercise great care in naming the one to whom they pray, because address simultaneously identifies both the speaker and the one spoken to. Historically, Jews refused to utter the name of God aloud, writing it as the unpronounceable YHWH. Human speech was inadequate. Muslims recognize the limits of language differently. According to a Sufi proverb, there are a hundred names of God. Humans know 99; only the camel knows the hundredth. The camel’s knowledge preserves a space of unknowing. Mosques often display the names of God in gold-lettered calligraphy around the dome, so that believers literally can stand in the presence of the many names of Allah. Christians gather in the name of a Triune God. During the course of a worship service, that name is spoken over and over again. Often it is a signal for believers to cross themselves, as if to inscribe that name on their bodies. Repetition of the name recognizes that there are a lot of other gods out there, each eager to stake its claim. Like a licked stamp waiting for an envelope, the human heart stands ready to adhere to all manner of unlikely gods. This first part of inter- cessory prayer reminds believers of the reality that claims them.

Naming God simultaneously identifies the speaker. Addressing God

as “Father or Mother” identifies the speaker as “child.” Addressing God as “Creator” states the creature’s derivative status. Addressing God as “Shepherd” claims the role of sheep, the chief characteristic of which is dithering. Whatever the name, intercession begins with address, and that address places the one praying in a certain posture before the mystery. Intercession invites connection.

 

After address comes praise, and praise both remembers and gives thanks. Praise flows naturally from address, for each of the names tele- graphs a story. For example, “Creator” plays back to the story of creation; “Deliverer” remembers  Exodus; “Father” or  “Mother” recalls Jesus’s unique and familiar way of addressing a sometimes dis- tant God. Praise fleshes out the connection that naming identifies, reminding us to whom we pray and recalling a history of relationship. Praise not only recounts the past; it minds believers toward a shared future. Like a magnet dragged through a pile of filings, praise orients them, turning toward connection. Parents train their children to “mind” them, so they do not have to watch the child’s every move. In time, children internalize parental instruction. They learn to act in any given situation as their parents might expect. They have been “minded.” The apostle Paul calls on this natural pattern, as he urges the community at Philippi to “mind” Christ: “be of the same mind, having the same love, being in  full accord  and of one mind. .. .

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:2, 5). Praise places people in the posture of “minding” the God to whom they pray.

Address and praise ground petition, for petition presumes the con- nection that address and petition create. Petition may be the hardest part of intercession. In part, a culture that values independence stum- bles over suffering. But in part, wants always get confused with needs. Actress Judi Dench recalls a holiday in Spain, where she sighted a pair of expensive shoes. She wanted those shoes with all the yearning of a 15-year-old girl. Her father suggested they consider the purchase over lunch. At a seafood buffet, shrimp caught her eye, and she wound up ordering the most expensive item on the menu. At the end of the meal, her father observed: “You’ve just eaten your shoes.” Wants take people everywhere, now to shoes, now to shrimp. What do we really need?

A woman whose partner was dying confided: “I don’t know what to ask for.” As she sorted wants and needs, she realized she could always ask for prayer. Like the villagers, she knew she was surrounded by people who would carry her. All she had to do was let them. She discovered a prayer for such situations: “Behold and bless.” It was the prayer she finally offered for her dying partner; it was the prayer people offered for her.

Intercession works to connect. It first establishes a connection with a God “in whom we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28). In connecting to this God, people find themselves drawn into the whole of creation. The member of the Santa Clara delegation put it

 

well: “They  are still with  me.”  Intercession bears one  another’s burdens, accompanying people in their suffering.

I am that child

with a round face and dirty

who on every corner bothers you with his “can you spare a quarter?”

I am that child with the dirty face certainly unwanted that from far away contemplates coaches,

where other children emit laughter and jump up and down considerably.. . .

I am that repulsive child that improvises a bed out of an old cardboard box and waits,

certain that you will accompany me.10

PILGRIMAGE: FROM CONTROL TO SURRENDER TO IMMERSION

Suffering means loss, whether of one’s abilities, one’s relationships, one’s homeland, one’s sense of security. Whatever the tragedy, loss introduces the element of contingency. Nothing can be taken for granted; everything could change in a moment. Finally, all loss is a loss of control that defies competence and remedy, diplomacy and persuasion. The responses to sudden helplessness range from paralysis to manipulation to resignation.

1. “We admitted we were powerless.”

He sat glumly in the meeting, listening intermittently to the speaker’s story. He did not want to be here, and the precipitating events were a blur. Then, words his wife shouted last night in the midst of a lot of yelling floated to the surface: “You’re out of control!” She’d threatened to leave if he did not come, and now he was part of a whole new family: the family of Alcoholics. That’s how everyone introduced themselves. As the meeting closed, everyone read the 12 Steps, and the first step echoed his wife’s words: “We admitted we were powerless.”

If he sticks it out, this man will learn a valuable lesson: he is not in control. For years, alcohol controlled his life, and his resulting behav- ior has controlled his family. If he stops drinking, they have all got to

 

change. His addiction was a center  of  gravity  for  the  whole family; no one can imagine what recovery looks like. But no one will get there without taking a first step.

2. From grief to?

She lost her husband of 25 years just 25 months ago, she thought ruefully. Despite the age difference, they had been a great match, sharing professional interests like business, personal hobbies like golf and hiking. Now he was gone. Initially, she had been devastated, losing weight even as she lost herself in work. Now she just felt an aching loneliness, grief in a different key. People were beginning to “set her up” with people or opportunity or even travel. She turned everything aside that felt like going backward. She knew that after 25 months people expected some kind of plan of where she was going. She had none. All she knew was to keep going forward, destination unknown.

Popular literature reminds people that “grief is like a fingerprint”: everyone’s experience is distinctive. Yet there are some commonalities, and this woman’s story displays them. Early grief feels like shattered glass. Gradually, time rounds the rough edges. A lot of people grieve the acute pain of early grief: it makes them feel somehow closer to the one they mourn. Yet, the physical and emotional intensity of early grief is hard to maintain over time. Even if they do not know where they are going, people move forward. Sometimes they fast-forward to a “New Normal,” catapulting themselves into a new relationship or situation. Addiction literature calls this “doing a geographic”; inevi- tably, unresolved grief catches up. A better strategy is to limp ahead, without knowing exactly where the path leads. Often, as in this case, the only direction available is the certain knowledge that there is no going back.

3. “Core of love”

“She had four children in five years. The most significant thing that happened to her in her life, she told us, was losing one of those children to cancer when he was five years old. ‘I don’t talk about this very easily,’ she said, looking down and speaking very quietly, ‘but it was pivotal for me. It changed my life—jelled it in a profound way. I have an image that comes to mind about that time. It’s of a white fire roaring through my life and burning out what was superficial, frivolous or unimportant and leaving a core of .. . I don’t think

 

there’s any other word for it than love. A core of love. It’s hard to convey what that means.’ ”11

The loss of a child ranks as one of the cruelest, and this woman puts it graphically. Yet, the “huge fire” she describes could have left a lot of things in its aftermath: rage, bitterness, despair, or simply black ashes. How did she find herself in this space of love? Love symbolizes ulti- mate connection between two people. It is a delicate balance between enmeshment, where one self dissolves into another, and narcissism, where every other self functions as nothing more than a mirror.

THE PATH FROM CONTROL TO SURRENDER: THE PRACTICE OF

PILGRIMAGE

What points the path from control to surrender? The ancient reli- gious practice of pilgrimage offers a compass. Understood as “a trans- formative journey to a sacred center,”12 pilgrimage may take people to sites held holy by a religious tradition, Mecca or Jerusalem. Or pilgrim- age may take them to sites made holy by intense struggle or bloodshed, like Auschwitz, the killing fields in Cambodia, the battlefields at Gettysburg or the beaches of Normandy. Pilgrimage can also be more personal. People use the term to describe visits to the residences of authors or statesmen or even celebrities. Indeed, the homes of Emily Dickinson or Jane Austen attract a kind of reverence usually seen in places of worship. Finally, whether it floats to consciousness or not, people who visit gravesites are on pilgrimage.

Whatever the destination, pilgrimage involves a journey, with the planning travel requires and the dislocation it brings. Further, pil- grimage involves some kind of physical effort, often walking, whether on a trail, through a graveyard, or from room to room. Even journeys described as “inner pilgrimages” employ some regular physical prac- tice, like mantram repetition, yoga, or Centering Prayer.13 As is the case with all spiritual practices, pilgrimage invites “the body to mentor the soul.”14

Many world religions look on pilgrimage as a spiritual practice, and Islam recommends that every pious Muslim make the hajj at least once a lifetime. Medieval Christians made their way to Rome or Jerusalem or Santiago de Compostela. They walked to do penance, seek healing, visit holy sites or the relics of saints. Their journals recount stories and companions along the way. At the outset, the point of pilgrimage

 

seemed to be reaching the destination. Along the way, though, the journey became an end in itself. Wherever its destination, pilgrimage taught believers to travel light, be receptive, and rest.

Since pilgrims carry everything they need on their backs, they find out very quickly to travel light. Pilgrims physically feel the weight of their possessions, and as they plod along they may well begin to pon- der how their possessions in fact possess them. Everything borne on the back registers on the feet. In a spirit of surrender, pilgrims learn to let go of all but the essentials.

Like pilgrimage, loss strips everything away. The mother above remembers that the death of a child hollowed her out. It cleared away everything “superfluous, frivolous, or unimportant,” leaving behind only emptiness. Janis Joplin (1970) put it more bluntly: “Freedom is just another word for nothin’ left to lose.”15

The experience of loss creates a terrible freedom. Just as the pilgrim chooses what she will carry, one whom suffering has hollowed out chooses what will fill the emptiness. That is the freedom. The danger is that anything can fill that hollowed space: love, peace, bitterness, despair. That is the terror.

It is not clear that Bill W., founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, stud- ied pilgrimage, but he certainly understood emptiness. Alcoholics Anonymous speaks of that “God-shaped hole” in every person. Twelve Step programs encourage people in recovery to fill that hole with spirit and not spirits, with divine mystery and not substances: “Let go and let God.” Alcoholics Anonymous also picks up on another dimension of pilgrimage: receptivity.

Because they carry so little, pilgrims learn to receive. Dependent on others for food, for shelter, for companionship, pilgrims relinquish control over their surroundings. Wrestling with pain and fatigue, they relinquish control over their own bodies. Whatever the weather and whomever the company, pilgrims move forward into a space of sur- render. On the way, they discover the daily graces. Grace comes incar- nate in the person of shopkeepers and concierges, hospitalers and fellow travelers. Unbidden and unmerited, the kindness of strangers sustains pilgrims along their way: a sign of divine compassion.

Physically and spiritually, walking is work, and pilgrims relish reach- ing the day’s destination. Rest becomes a mini-sabbath, and pilgrims learn to honor it. Tutoring people in rest and sabbath, pilgrimage emphasizes being rather than doing. Pilgrims are not doing anything. They may begin by thinking they will achieve  their  goal of  making it to Mecca or Jerusalem, but it does not take long to be disabused of

 

that idea. The point is as much making the journey as reaching the destination.

A woman who climbed Kilimanjaro put it this way: “The other members of our party spoke of conquering the mountain, I think the mountain let itself be climbed. I understood ‘majesty’ after that climb.” Only in retrospect did she identify the climb as pilgrimage, but she put its sense of sabbath into words. Just as she leaned into the moun- tain, pilgrims lean into the holy.

Together traveling light, learning to receive, and honoring rest: these aspects of pilgrimage cultivate a spirit of surrender that is at the heart of pilgrimage. Surrender works to unclench the grip of con- trol, acknowledge life’s contingency, giving thanks for what has been and being hopeful for what lies ahead. In these three aspects of letting go, receptivity, and rest, pilgrimage is similar to Centering Prayer, itself an inner pilgrimage. Jane Ferguson’s chapter in this volume sug- gests striking similarities.

Pilgrimage extends outwardly into immersion. Many colleges and universities offer opportunities for “immersion experiences,” which take students abroad for an in-depth encounter with another culture. Minneapolis’s Center for Global Education offers immersion experi- ences to interested adults, and Director Orval Gingerich is quick to distinguish them from mission trips or service learning projects: “We encourage people to go as receivers. We want to disabuse them of the idea that they have something to offer. We want them simply to receive” (O. Gingerich, personal communication, July  10,  2009). The Ignatian Colleagues Program runs a curriculum for college and university administrators, part of which involves a 10-day immersion in a Third World country. Director Edward Peck calls this part of the program “pilgrimage,” and he reminds participants: “You’re not there to give; you’re there to receive” (E. Peck, personal communication, July 7, 2009).16

Why do this? Immersion affords a kind of deep knowing of some- thing else, and that knowledge has a double edge. It opens both to beauty and to pain. Describing a sport he loves, long-distance runner Richard Askwith (2008) captures that double-edged knowing: “The man who is truly at home in the mountains .. . enters into an intimate relationship with them is so deeply in touch with himself.”17 Such inti- macy bears pain as well as beauty. Askwith claims it is crucial to get “cold, or wet, or lost, or exhausted, or bruised by rocks or covered in mud.      The point is not the exertion involved, it’s the degree of

involvement, or immersion, in the landscape. You need to feel it; to

 

interact with it, to be in it, not just looking from outside. You need to lose yourself—for it is then you are most human.”17

Immersion returns to incarnation, for this athlete gives a luminous description of the divine immersion in humanity, living deeply into the beauty of being human—but also into the suffering. Through Jesus Christ, the divine-human, God became one of us, even to the point of death. Jesus laments, and he draws on the psalms to give voice to his suffering. Jesus asks for his own suffering to be lifted, interced- ing with the divine parent for his burden to be lifted. Then, as he dies, he intercedes for the very people who put him to death, asking his divine parent to forgive them. Finally, his entire life on earth was a pilgrimage. Some would say it led only to Jerusalem and his death. We argue that it led deeper and deeper into the human soul. God knows suffering, because God has been there. In these contemplative practices we walk in the steps of an incarnate God, a God who suffers with us. This was how God came to know the beauty and pain of being human.

CONCLUSION

Retrospectively, we recognize that the entire journey from suffer- ing to solidarity with others and with God has been a pilgrimage. These contemplative practices invite us to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, who leads us deeper into the mystery of being human. At the same time, as they did for Jesus, they take us further into solidarity with the suffering of all people. Poet, essayist, and farmer Wendell Berry has a beautiful poem that ends with the counsel to “practice resurrection.” These contemplative practices invite us to “practice incarnation.”18

REFERENCES

1. Weil, S. (1977). The love of God and affliction. In G. A. Panichas (Ed.),

The Simone Weil reader (p. 440). Mt. Kisco, NY: Moyer Bell.

2. Burghardt, W. (2008). Contemplation: A long loving look at the real. In G. W. Traub (Ed.), An Ignatian spirituality reader (p. 93). Chicago: Loyola Press.

3. Loyola, I. (1970). The constitutions of the Society of Jesus (G. E. Ganss, Trans.). St. Louis, MO: Institute  of Jesuit Sources. (Original  work  published in 1556)

 

4. Kubler-Ross, E. (1997). On death and dying. New York,: Simon & Schuster.

5. Gourevitch, P. (2006). Just watching. The New Yorker. http://www

.newyorker.com/archive/2006/06/12/060612ta_talk_gourevitch (accessed August 5, 1009).

6. Rolheiser, R. (1999). The holy longing: The search for a Christian spirituality. New York: Doubleday.

7. Anderson, H. (1993). What consoles? Sewanee Theological Review, 36(3), 374–384.

8. Pleins, J. D. (1993). The Psalms: Songs of tragedy, hope, and justice (p. 15). Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Press.

9. Augustine. (1975). In Psalmo 37:13–14. In The liturgy of the hours

(p. 303). New York: Catholic Book.

10. Schnabel, J. (Director). (2000). Before Night Falls [Film]. New York: Fine Line Features.

11. Ray, P. H., & Anderson, S. R. (2000). The cultural creatives. New York: Three Rivers Press/Random House.

12. Cousineau, P. (1998). The art of pilgrimage: The seeker’s guide to making travel sacred (p. xxiii). San Francisco: Conari Press.

13. Several chapters in this volume emphasize the importance of specific physical disciplines: rhythmic breathing (e.g., T. Anne Richards, “The Path of Yoga”), silence (e.g., Jane Ferguson, “Centering Prayer”), or the repetition of a word or phrase (e.g., Jill Bormann, “Mantram Repetition,” Tim Flinders et al., “The Eight-Point Program of Passage Meditation”), or even repetitive motion (e.g., Amy Wachholz, “Shaking the Blues Away”).

14. Brown, P. (1988). The body and society: Men, women, and sexual renunci- ation in early Christianity. New York: Columbia University Press.

15. Kristofferson, K., & Foster, F. (1970). Me and Bobby McGee [Janis Joplin]. On Pearl [CD], New York: Columbia (1971).

16. For more information on the Center for Global Education, see http:// www.centerforglobaleducation.org. For more information on The Ignatian Colleagues, see http://www.ignatiancolleagues.org.

17. Coffey, M. (2008). Explorers of the infinite. New York: Penguin.

18. Berry, W. (1994). Manifesto: The mad farmer liberation front. In

Collected Poems: 1957–1982 (pp. 151–152). San Francisco: North Point Press.

 

CHAPTER 14

Contemplative Practices in Action 10] Zen and the Transformation of Emotional and Physical Stress into Well-Being

 10] Zen and the Transformation of Emotional and Physical Stress into Well-Being

Sarita Tamayo-Moraga and Darlene Cohen Roshi

A fierce and terrifying band of samurai was riding through the countryside, bringing fear and harm wherever they went. As they were approaching one particular town, all the monks in the town’s monastery fled, except for the abbot. When the band of warriors entered the monastery, they found the abbot sitting at the front of the shrine room in perfect posture. The fierce leader took out his sword and said, “Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know that I’m the sort of person who could run you through with my sword without batting an eye?” The Zen master responded, “And I, sir, am the sort of man who could be run through by a sword without batting an eye.”1

In Zen lore, there are many stories about Zen masters who face disaster and hardship without blinking an eye. Sylvia Boorstein, cofounding teacher of Spirit Rock Meditation Center in Marin County, California, recounts this classic Zen story, “Without Fear” in a talk on fearlessness. Zen masters such as the one in the story have reached an equilibrium that could be described as happiness that is not dependent on external circumstances. This ease is based on fearlessness and a total acceptance of the present moment in which the practitioner is released from attach- ment to wanting reality to be different from how it is. This deep kind of release means one is less and less controlled by external circumstances. What is unique to Zen is the fact that for Zen, this kind of equilibrium

 

is achieved not by rejecting the world, but instead by completely accept- ing the world. This complete acceptance of the world is intimately related to how one perceives the world.

This stance is not negative or passive. Instead, it is dynamic and results in emotional well-being that translates into increased physical well-being although it is absolutely not a wonder drug. Zen masters and students get cancer, go through divorces, lose children, etc. They are still human, but the difference is that they accept that reality rather than reject it. Therefore, the way Zen practice transforms suffering and results in well-being is different from what one might accept. It is not a magic wand for getting what you want. Instead, Zen practice slowly wears down the ego and cultivates stability, wisdom, and com- passion. The Zen practitioner is less and less controlled by external circumstances.

The medical world has turned its attention to many forms of medita- tion because of their seeming power to improve mental and physical health. Mindfulness in particular has received increased attention because of its capacity to aid those with mental and physical ailments and enrich lives.2 Scientific research is now documenting the physiologi- cal changes that result from meditation in general and Zen in particular.3 Neurobiology in particular is the area in which increasing research is being done on how meditation changes the brain. In effect, preliminary research suggests that Zen seems to rewire the brain and the nervous system.4 Where science, psychology, and Zen seem to be meeting is the changing how one perceives transforms the mind and body. For Zen and psychology what transforms is suffering and for science what transforms is the brain and nervous system.

THE ALLURE OF ZEN “SERENITY”

Zen is now used to sell things. One can buy a “Zen” phone, have a “Zen” spa day, or even buy “Zen” perfume. President Obama is some- times described as “very Zen” in articles about his calm, unruffled demeanor in the midst of conflict.5 The power of Zen’s promise of tranquility, coolness, and serenity seems to have captured the minds of marketers, advertisers, and journalists. What marketers have tapped into is actually an ancient concept—the Brahma Vihara of upeksha or “boundless equanimity.”6 The Brahma Viharas are the different faces of love in Buddhism. The literal translation of Brahma Vihara is bound- less abode. The other three are maitri or “boundless kindliness,” karuna

 

or “boundless compassion,” and mudita or “sympathetic joy,” which means happiness for others  in  their  happiness.7  Zen  Master Robert Aitken describes the Brahma Vihara of boundless equanimity as a “broad, serene acceptance of self and others” that accepts even their and our own faults.8 This “broad, serene acceptance” is what people want but cannot figure out how to get. Furthermore, it is at the heart of how and why Zen practice in its ancient and modern manifestations has the potential to transform the suffering of emotional and physical stress into peace, joy, and liberation. The problem is that this equanim- ity does not look the way people think it should because it is about let- ting go of how you want things to be in order to make room for what is actually in front of you, your own direct experience of the present moment.

The Vietnamese Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh describes equanim- ity in the following way in his book, Teachings on Love: “The fourth element of true love is upeksha, which means equanimity, nonattach- ment, nondiscrimination, even-mindedness, or letting go.”9 Thich Nhat Hanh’s interpretation of this fourth Brahma Vihara expands on Aitken Roshi’s understanding because Hanh emphasizes letting go as part of the equanimity. This letting go is incredibly difficult and is why zazen, or Zen sitting meditation, is at the heart of Zen practice and the foundation of all the transformation attributed to Zen. Why is that? Because when you sit zazen, you notice, accept, and let go of everything that arises, no matter what. Shining the light of awareness on more and more of one’s life gently transforms you and your life. Off the cushion, the practitioner manifests this process as mindfulness and letting go. Such an approach leads to a life of radical acceptance and oneness with life circumstances. She or he learns how to include more and more of her or his experience. Soto Zen also emphasizes ways in which to get knocked out of concepts into direct experience. Dualistic thinking traps us into rigidity and keeps us from seeing real- ity as it is. Thus, this kind of practice emphasizes a nondual way of living that is fluid in which concepts are tools rather than prison bars. This fluidity increases the ability to respond instead of react.

The entire point of Zen practice in particular and Buddhist practice

in general is to transform suffering into peace, joy, and liberation. Thus, each section on Zen practice and the Buddhist concepts that are at the basis of this practice will aim to explain how it is supposed to transform suffering by changing how one perceives and relates to the world, others, and oneself, how this process of transformation is linked  to  alleviating  stress,  and  finally,  how  this  transformation

 

actually changes the body itself, in particular the nervous system and the brain. Finally, since both authors are priests in the Soto Zen tradi- tion, and Darlene Cohen is in addition a Roshi or Master in the Soto Zen tradition, the authors will primarily concentrate on Soto Zen when discussing the practice of Zen, rather than its venerable sister tradition, Rinzai Zen.10

TRANSFORMING STRESS BY CHANGING HOW ONE PERCEIVES THE WORLD

There are many teachings and practices in Zen that relate directly to changing one’s perception and how that change results in skillful means, or effective action that transforms suffering. These include not-knowing mind, karma, oneness with one’s experience, continuous practice, impermanence, and direct experience. All of these can be summarized as seeing things as they are—just this. Therefore, percep- tion is everything in Zen. Buddhism teaches that how we see the world directly affects how much we suffer. Modern mind-body medicine emphasizes the same point. In this section, we will interweave the work of mindfulness guru Jon Kabat-Zin and ancient Zen Buddhist practices in order to explain how and why this kind of transformation eases suffering in general and the suffering from stress in particular.

Jon Kabat Zin, the scientist who is a pioneer in the use of mindful- ness meditation and practices in health care, defines stress in the following way:

The popular name for the full catastrophe nowadays is stress ... It unifies a vast array of human responses into a single concept with which people strongly identify.     stress occurs on a multiplicity

of levels and originates from many different sources     Stress can

be thought of as acting on different levels, including the physio- logical level, the psychological level, and the social level    In the

vast middle range of stressors, where exposure is neither immedi- ately lethal, like bullets or high-level radiation or poison, nor basi- cally benign, like gravity, the general rule for those causing psychological stress is that how you see things and how you handle them makes all the difference in terms of how much stress you will experience.11

Thus, we see immediately that perception plays a vital role in mini- mizing reactivity to stressors and in fact in reducing the number of things we might see as stressors. Thus, perception itself can either

 

increase or decrease our level of stress. Since Zen is all about changing one’s perception in such a way as to transform suffering, right away we can see the link between Zen and stress reduction.

Kabat-Zin further describes the link between stress and changes in perception in the following way:

So it can be particularly helpful to keep in mind from moment to moment that it is not so much the stressors in our lives but how we see them and what we do with them that determines how much we are at their mercy. If we can change the way we see, we can change the way we respond.12

This process of changing the way we see, which then results in changing the way we respond, summarizes Zen practice. The primary activity for this process is mindfulness. Mindfulness is the bridge between Zen, psychology, and science. In Zen, mindfulness is simply noticing what one is actually doing, thinking, feeling, sensing, perceiving, etc., without trying to change it. Because this task is far more difficult than it appears, Zen practitioners meditate as the core of their practice. Literally, they are learning how to return to the present moment, how to notice what is in the present moment, thus increasing their capacity to notice more and more of their experience, and cultivating the ability to tolerate what they notice without changing it, judging it, pushing it away, or clinging to it. This has the potential to result in a soft, flexible mind that is clear, forgiving, compassionate, and wise.

This retraining of perception that is fundamental to Zen practice intersects with psychology and neurobiology because how we see our circumstances affect our mental and physical health. Kabat-Zin’s work on mindfulness and stress relief demonstrates that stress can just as easily arise from a misperception or thought instead of from what is actually there or happening. He describes this process as follows:

As we have seen, even our thoughts and feelings can act as major stressors if they tax or exceed our ability to respond effectively. This is true even if the thought or feeling has no correspondence with “reality.” For example, the mere thought that you have a fatal disease can be the cause of considerable stress and could become disabling, even though it may not be true.13

Thus, even if one is healthy and well with no sign of disease, the mere thought that one might actually be ill, which is not reality at that time, can cause stress.

 

This example demonstrates how not seeing what’s actually there (health) but instead fearing what might be there (sickness) leads to suffering. One perceives what one imagines instead of what is actually happening and even though it is not happening, one suffers all the same.

If this mode of misperception remained only in the realm of psychology and did not affect the physical body, then perhaps it could be forgotten or dismissed. However, past and current research on the physiological impact of stress shows that this is not the case. The fol- lowing classic description from Kabat-Zin is that of the fight-or-flight response that occurs when a person perceives a threat to his or her well-being:

When we feel threatened, the fight-or flight reaction occurs almost instantly. The result is a state of physiological and psycho- logical hyperarousal, characterized by a great deal of muscle ten- sion and strong emotions, which may vary from terror, fright, or anxiety to rage and anger. The fight-or-flight reaction involves a very rapid cascade of nervous-system firings and release of stress hormones, the most well known of which is epinephrine (adrena- line), which are unleashed in response to an immediate, acute threat .. . The output of the heart jumps by a factor of four or five by increasing the heart rate and the strength of the heart-muscle contractions (and thereby the blood pressure) so that more blood and therefore more energy can be delivered to the large muscles of the arms and legs, which will be called upon if we are to fight or run.14

It does not matter whether there is an actual threat or not; all that is required for the mental and physical response of fight or flight is for the person to think there is a threat. Those who are overly stressed then enter a cycle of remaining stuck in this fight-or-flight cycle to the point that they see everything as a stressor and threat. Buddhism teaches that humans tend to categorize the world into that which they desire and that which they wish to avoid. Science and psychology teach us that humans can get stuck in this method of categorization to the point that they see more and more of their life circumstances, the people around them, etc., as a threat to their well-being, even if that is not the case.15 Thus, most of the suffering that arises from stress comes from getting stuck in a mode of perception that keeps inspiring the physiological fight or flight.

 

What is it about Zen that provides this mechanism of change in per- ception? One primary mechanisms is the not-knowing mind, as described by Mu Soeng:

The Zen tradition has tried to comprehend this wisdom through the now formalized teaching of not-knowing. Not-knowing is the intuitive wisdom where one understands information to be just that—mere information—and tries to penetrate to the heart of the mystery that language and information are trying to convey. All we have in, in normal human conditioning is second-, third-, or fourthhand information. In our ignorance, we treat these units of information as self-evident truths and fail to investigate our own experience directly. The not-knowing approach is not a philosophi- cal or intellectual entertainment; it is a doorway to liberation.16

Zen provides a way to see the world and oneself as only information. This neutral way of seeing removes the charge of seeing something as a threat or as a support to be chased and held onto. It circumvents the fight or flight reaction and thus the physiological cascade of events that stress initiates in the body.

How is this related to happiness that is not dependent on external circumstances? Because when one sees external circumstances just as information, then one is no longer controlled by them. The clarity that comes in the wake of not being controlled enhances one’s ability to respond instead of react. Thus, Zen and mindfulness actually change the body, especially the brain and the nervous system. These changes will be explicitly linked to neurobiological changes in a later section.

So how does Zen practice help us see things as information rather than something to run toward or away from? Zen teaches us that one can have a painful experience or loss without stress. One simply has the experience. Thus, Zen is not about getting rid of feelings of any kind, but is instead about living life in a way that leaves “no trace.” Thus, your feelings, thoughts, emotions, and perceptions come and go and you experience them, but when they are gone they leave no trace because you have fully experienced them, fully accepted them, and fully let them go.

The next Zen story is often used to exemplify how “no trace” or oneness with circumstances is about fully and completely having one’s experience. Francis Cook used this story in his commentary on Soto Zen’s founder Dogen’s essay on karma:

 

A young monk was disillusioned with Zen when he heard his revered master scream in pain and fear as he was being murdered by thieves. The young man contemplated leaving Zen training, feeling that if his old master screamed in the face of pain or death, Zen itself must be a fraud. However, before he was able to leave, another teacher taught him something of what Zen is all about and removed his misconceptions. “Fool!” exclaimed the teacher, “the object of Zen is not to kill all feelings and become anes- thetized to pain and fear. The object of Zen is to free us to scream loudly and fully when it is time to scream.”17

This extreme example of oneness with circumstances or one’s karma is supposed to wake us up to another facet of equanimity, which is that responding appropriately to circumstances is not about not feeling. Instead, as exemplified by the story, the point of Zen practice is to free us to laugh when we are supposed to laugh, scream when we are supposed to scream. Much of Zen practice is about getting kicked out of concepts and ideas into direct experience where everything is just information. Dwelling in direct experience frees one to respond appropriately. When one unites with the experience or rather just is the experience, then one is free no matter what the circumstances. Zen tends to use extremes to make important points about the transformation of suffering.

One of the reasons that everything does not flow, especially in the face of a crisis, is that instead of having a direct experience of our life, we want a theory about our life that will make our life the way we want it.18 Then when life does not turn out to match our theory, we suffer in subtle to gross ways. Having plans about what we want in our life and how we want it to be is not the problem. The problem is staying attached to the outcome and our expectations. Thus, believing that a theory about our life is the reality rather than our direct experience of our life sets us up for suffering. Staying stuck to the outcome we want does not enable us to see our life as it is. In fact, we are then con- trolled by our expectations and thus miss the opportunities that are not part of our plan. Thus, we exist like ghosts, neither here nor there.

ONENESS WITH CIRCUMSTANCES AS A WAY TO TRANSFORM SUFFERING AND STRESS

In Zen, everything is an opportunity for awakening. Therefore, every single event, experience, thought, feeling, etc. is valuable and

 

useful, including suffering. The operative classical teaching we will focus on in this section is oneness with circumstances (acceptance of karma) as a way to be free from circumstances. Directly related to this classical teaching is Kabat-Zin’s emphasis on turning toward one’s suffering rather than pushing it away or escaping from it. The irony is that one cannot release or transform what one denies or is not aware of. In a classic Zen poem, “Song of the Jewel Mirror Samadhi,”19 this process of witnessing without acting on aversion or desire is described as “Turning away and touching are both wrong, for it is like a massive fire.”20 Not touching and not turning away in Zen focus on not chang- ing oneself or one’s experience, but instead witnessing it.

Again and again, Zen emphasizes that when you impose yourself on what is in front of you, you do not see it as it is. When you impose yourself on yourself, you do not see who you are. Thus, the act of imposing yourself impedes clear perception and encourages reactivity. How then can we allow things to be themselves? We can do this by being as completely present as we can. As we cultivate the ability to include more and more of our experience, we become less reactive and more responsive. This is the transformation that occurs through self-acceptance and letting go, which turns out to be a very effective strategy for dealing with stress.21 Things become what they are and you become who you are.

In the Genjo Koan, Dogen-Zenji, founder of Soto Zen, writes, “Yet

in attachment blossoms fall, and in aversion weeds spread.”22 That to which we are attached we see as a flower and yet that flower still falls and decays. That to which we are averse appears to us as a weed and it seems to multiply despite our best efforts to kill it. The way one does not touch or turn away and how one loves one’s weeds is exemplified by the next koan (a puzzling question or story that is designed to knock people out of concepts into direct experience), which is exactly about how this activity is manifested as oneness with circumstances. We will see that the essential ingredient is a simultane- ous unity with circumstances and freedom from circumstances that stems from constantly returning to one’s direct experience. Returning to direct experience is what changes one’s perspective—not the other way around.

The following koan from Dogen’s essay “Spring and Fall” illustrates how direct experience can cut through categories and alleviate suffering:

A certain monk asked the great master Tung-shan, “When the cold or heat arrives, how can one avoid it?” The master answered,

 

“Why don’t you go to a place where there is no cold or heat?” “Where is this place where there is neither cold nor heat?” asked the monk. Said Tung-shan, “When it is cold, the cold kills the monk; when it is hot, the heat kills the monk.”23

So—what is the place where there is neither cold nor heat? Direct experience. Oneness with experience, regardless of what it is. This is simply being as present as possible to whatever is happening, both inside and outside oneself. This is not touching, not turning away. The mystery of Zen is that by doing this, one transforms suffering. The closest words that get to it is that by doing this, one stops strug- gling to force things to be different and stops struggling to maintain comfort and ideal circumstances. Dropping the struggle itself allows one to rest and creates the possibility of clarity because one’s personal agenda is finally, if not out of the way, at least not the dominant lens through which the world and self are seen.

But as we all know—it is much harder to get to that place than we think. And the kind of effort we think it takes is not that at all. It is actually zazen effort. So, we do not actually work to be free—we work to notice when we are not free—when we are free—and we sit zazen to practice not separating from our experience, no matter what it is. Dogen then continues—“when it is cold, be thoroughly cold, and when it is hot, be thoroughly hot.”24 By affirming one’s conditioned- ness, one becomes free from one’s conditionedness.25

So how does one affirm one’s very conditionedness? What does Zen teach about that and how does it happen? It happens because when you are present to what is in front of you and to yourself, you are actually affirming it. Being present to our direct experience, especially in zazen, teaches us that everything changes and that we have no con- tinuous self and that our perspective is limited. Thus, we can then see the world differently. Scientific research now teaches us that this shift in perception is also a physiological shift. In the section on Zen and science, we will see that there are actually pathways in the brain and nervous system that shift when one’s autobiography or personalized lens on the world drops and one sees what’s there without oneself in the way. The change is physiological because our lens on the world is actually a pattern in the brain and nervous system.

 

ZEN AND WELL-BEING FROM A SCIENTIFIC PERSPECTIVE

Now that we have reviewed some ancient practices that Zen teaches and uses in order to achieve well-being, we will move to some current scientific understandings and hypotheses of what is actually changed in the brain and nervous system through these practices and others like them, primarily Zen and its practice of mindfulness. Really what we will be looking at is what could be described as a modern-day, scientific understanding of karma, namely behavioral,  perceptual, and emotional patterns that are inscribed in the nervous system and brain from our up-bringing, our social, national, physical, monetary, familial, etc. context. What Zen seems to do is unwrite or at least fade this physically inscribed karma and rewrite a new physical karma that does not necessarily erase the old karmic pattern but instead bypasses it.

How does this relate to the alleviation of stress? Basically, stress responses can inscribe pathways in our brain and nervous system.26 And if we get stuck in stress reactivity, then the pathway becomes more and more entrenched and harder to change. Therefore, from a neurobiological perspective, Zen practice and mindfulness practices in general, because they are about rewiring us into well-being, can also be directly applied to stress pathways and responses if only because Zen provides a way to build an alternate pathway. The specific rewir- ing that seems to take place according to current research is that one moves from perceiving the world through one’s autobiography to instead perceiving the world through selflessness. This switch has a physiological component, which James Austin, MD, describes as mov- ing from egocentric perception to allocentric (other-centered or self- less) perception, which has literal correlates in the parts of the brain that perceive and then react to that perception.27 Therefore, in this section, we will focus on how Zen and mindfulness rewire the brain and nervous system in general, with a special focus on how this relates to stress in particular.

James Austin, MD, has made how Zen changes the brain the focus of much of his career, specifically in the books Zen and the Brain, Zen-Brain Reflections, and Selfless Insights in addition to many papers

 

and other research. As a medical doctor, a Zen practitioner of many years, and a neurobiologist, he has a unique perspective from which to uncover much of what happens to the brain in zazen and mindful- ness practices. He writes,

A Zen perspective has been available for centuries.  But  until recent decades, the scientific community did not understand the message, or it chose to ignore it. How can Zen make its age-old contribution to the study of consciousness? By inviting us to ask the naı¨ve and seemingly incredible question: what is this world really like without our intrusive self-referent self in the picture? Putting it another way, let’s suppose a brain drops off all its sub- jective veils of self-consciousness. What, then, does the rest of its awareness—and its pure, objective consciousness, perceive?28

Where this links back to Zen and the brain is that Zen’s focus on bypassing one’s personal agenda in order to have a direct experience is just the kind of change that facilitates clear perception as docu- mented in James Austin’s books on Zen and the brain. One does not actually have to drop one’s personal agenda. Instead, all one has to do is cultivate the ability to return to one’s direct experience of the present moment over and over again. Such a cultivation also fosters the ability to include more and more of one’s experience. Eventually, one’s personal agenda is just one facet of how one perceives the world. How does this intersect with stress? As seen earlier in this article, stress is an emotional and psychological response to a stressor. How- ever, emotions are hard to change and often not subject to reason. Basically, by turning to the present moment over and over again, we are providing ourselves with an alternate focus while our brain is in tumult, until it calms and we develop new nerve pathways. Science shows us that this shift of focus to the breath and the present moment

actually calms the firing of maladaptive neural pathways.29

Zen teaches us, as we saw earlier, that the less we see our world just as information, the less effective we will be in it and the more con- trolled we will be by circumstances. However, what we see here is that we are controlled by external circumstances precisely because we are con- trolled by internal circumstances, NOT the other way around. Thus, if we can change these, we have more of a chance of not being controlled by external circumstances. These internal circumstances are encoded in our brain and nervous system. Since our brains and nervous system are wired to perceive the world in the way that we have been taught

 

and that we remember from past experiences, most of us walk around with a perceptual filter that does not see things as they are. This per- sonalized filter causes us to select and reject material based on our memories and conditioning in terms of what has helped most in the past, or simply what we have learned from our roles models and/or society and/or family. Thus, we’re already wired to walk around with a personalized filter. But, in addition to faulty perception, we are also wired emotionally by our own genetics, our environment, our upbringing, etc. This emotional wiring is intimately related to how we perceive. Thus, if what we perceive is already filtered by our wir- ing, then changing the way we respond or react depends on changing our perception. And yet, these seem to be locked in a mutual embrace calculated to keep us from doing just that. So how is this related to stress, and how is it related to Zen?

Basically, zazen, or sitting meditation, provides a format to watch ourselves react to our own thoughts, perceptions, emotions, and sensations, in a safe, closed loop. Because we are silent and still while we watch the cascade of reactions and thoughts, we eventually see how we are the source of our warped window on the world and that our window might not match what is in front of us, or even match our direct experience. From a neurobiological perspective, what this does is calm the firing of the neurons that access memories.30 Zen and its practices provide a way to bypass our internal circumstances because Zen practice is about just noticing those internal circum- stances and not changing them. It turns out that the very act of non- judgmental attention enables those internal circumstances to slowly stop dominating us if only because we finally realize we do not have to act on our thoughts and feelings and we will still survive.

According to Austin, the good news is that the brain is plastic and can change, and new nerve cells and nervous system pathways can be born and old ones can be changed or wither away.31 The bad news is that experientially, one needs to be able to withstand the pull of the old pathways and habits while building the new ones that are more fruitful and less maladaptive. This requires stability, which comes from regular meditation and mindfulness practices, which is strength- ened by sitting with a group and working with a teacher. However, Zen practice and other forms of mindfulness meditation provide a way to change these maladaptive pathways—remember back to earlier in the chapter when we discussed not-thinking and its role in seeing everything as simply information rather than seeing everything only

 

in terms of desire or aversion. It changes the overconditioning of the limbic system if only because we watch everything that pops up while silent and still and we begin to see the web of self and memory that we impose on what is in front of us. These changes happen indi- rectly in Zen practice.

In particular, preliminary research and speculation upon the research by Austin suggests that the very mechanisms by which Zen for centuries has relied on changing perception in order to transform suffering deac- tivate an overconditioned limbic system.32 The research in his three books is extensive, highly technical, and very specific. For that reason, we will be concentrating only on some key aspects that reflect how changes in perception change the brain and nervous system.

First, we will concentrate on the pathways in the brain that have been linked to overwhelming anxiety and fear that then lead to reactiv- ity without choice. The seat of these emotions in the brain seems to be the amygdala in the limbic brain, which is a “gateway” from the limbic brain to the neocortex and other parts of the brain. Austin describes its primary function in the following way:

It [the amygdala] codes for the potential emotional, social, and survival value of an arousing stimulus, then relays this informa- tion elsewhere where it can serve matching responses appropri- ately and be consolidated into potentially  useful  memories .. . The amygdala is not activated each time we consciously judge whether an ordinary stimulus is pleasant or unpleasant. However, emotional states of extreme anger or fear almost always activate the normal amgydala. The amygdala also becomes more acti- vated during the readiness to act, psychological conditioning, autonomic arousal, release of “stress” hormones, and when our attention is heightened.33

Austin goes on to describe a study in which participants were asked “to maintain their negative emotion after they viewed a disturbing ‘nega- tive’ picture.”34 Activity rose in their amygdala, and those who had reported having a negative worldview had the highest increase of activity in this part of the limbic brain.35 The amygdala has a strong influence on the neocortex and on our actions and on our responses to stressors. Austin suggests that Zen practice helps loosen the domi- nance of the amygdala on the neocortex and reactivity in general:

Unstated in Zen is a major premise of long-range meditative training: diminishing the unfruitful influences that the amygdala

 

has on other regions, higher and lower (part VII). Yet these per- sonal liberations usually evolve at a glacial pace, much too subtly to seem practical, recognized more in hindsight than at the time. On the background of such incremental change, could a deep crevasse open up suddenly, an event that cuts through every knot- ted problem in the psyche, from top to bottom?36

If Zen practice is to have an influence on an important seat of extreme fear and anxiety and instantaneous reactions to those overwhelming feelings, then the next place to look is at the phenomena of fearless- ness and awakening in Zen practice. Austin focuses on kensho, a “see- ing into the essence of things, insight-wisdom,”37 as an experience Zen practitioners have that can point to what happens in the brain. Satori is the term reserved for “a deeper, more advanced state of insight-wisdom.”38 Austin hypothesizes that kensho and satori result in a state in which perception is primarily allocentric and that the fear-based self through which we see the world drops away.39 If true, such experiences would reduce “the resonances of fear in the amygdala and other limbic and para-limbic regions.”40

He goes on to hypothesize further that repeated experiences of ken- sho and satori continue to change the brain. In the brain, there are “other-referential attentional and processing functions” and “pathways that are Self-referential.”41

Simply stated, his theories based on current research imply that Zen strengthens “other-referential” pathways, or Selfless pathways in the brain rather than “Self-referential” pathways in the brain. Thus, the problems alluded to earlier in the chapter about how to get around per- ceiving the world through memory and our autobiographical Self now have a tentative answer. He then goes on to explain how mindfulness and bare awareness contribute to a more clear perception of the world:

Unfortunately, our biases distort perception. They cause us to remember false information .. . the more directly we integrate our earliest perceptual messages—the simpler ones that first register seeing and hearing—with our medial temporal lobe memory func- tions, the more likely we are to record details accurately and remember an event in ways that consciousness might regard as valid, at least tentatively. Otherwise, greater degrees of uncertainty arise, and will persist.

The world is like a Rorschach ink blot test. We insert the imaginary projections of our subjective Self into everything we

 

see there. The simplest way to gather valid factual information is by learning to observe the world mindfully, unjudgmentally, clearly, using the other-referential ventral pathways that bypass the intrusive filters of Self.42

Returning one’s attention to the present moment seems to reinforce allocentric pathways in the brain while continuing to try to force the world to fit into one’s veil of memory and autobiography reinforces Self-oriented pathways in the brain. Austin is attempting to explain and understand from a neurobiological standpoint the kind of clarity of perception that was described earlier in this chapter as not-thinking. Although there is not yet a definitive answer from the scientific stand- point, he explains:

Meditation creates a series of complex psycho-physiological changes. To begin with a loose generalization, one might say that Zen meditation does involve a kind of not thinking, clearly. And it then proceeds to carry this clear awareness into everyday living

.. . Zen training is an agency of character change. It’s a program designed to point the whole personality in the direction of increasing selflessness and enhanced awareness.43

Thus, this ancient combination of Zen practices, which include zazen, mindfulness, and not-thinking (not being trapped by concepts), focused on cultivating awareness and dampening the ego in order to cultivate wisdom and compassion, gently nudges the brain toward the allocentric pathways and not the egocentric pathways.44

Another important aspect is the relationship between nuclei of the dorsal thalamus (a part of the limbic brain) and the neocortex. In addi- tion to the influence of the amygdala, these nuclei also send “impulses from the limbic system .. . to influence the emotional responses of the cortex.”45 These ripples between the thalamus and the neocortex could serve to reinforce egocentric pathways.46 Austin theorizes that kensho and satori have the potential to “decrease the functions of .. . the dorsal thalamus. These deactivations could cause a significant decrease in the maladaptive influences of the Self.”47

So how does this relate back to stress and Zen’s potential to reduce and alleviate the stress response? Basically, just as stress rewires the brain as mentioned earlier, so can zazen and mindfulness practices undo the harm that stress can cause in the body. In particular, current neurobiological research, hypotheses, and theories about how Zen

 

practice affects the brain imply that Zen practice provides a way to calm and bypass the tyranny of the limbic brain over the neocortex because it provides a way to encourage selflessness as a form of per- ception. Since the limbic brain is actively involved in the stress response and especially in hyperarousal and stress reactivity, the poten- tial of Zen to provide relief is then clear. And finally, since Kabat-Zin’s mindfulness-based stress reduction programs focus on changes in per- ception as the foundation of relief from stress and Zen is an ancient practice for changing perception and cultivating clarity, the potential for Zen to aid in that change in perception is present. Ultimately, the letting go and returning to the present moment of zazen turns out to be a form of control and a way to change one’s internal circum- stances enough so that one is no longer controlled by external circum- stances. This entire chapter has been an explanation of how the ancient concept of upeksha or equilibrium could be practiced and how and why it leads to happiness that is not dependent on external circumstances.

PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS

What are some practical applications of Zen practice to help alleviate stress in daily life? In this last section, we will focus on two practices designed to encourage gently returning to the present moment until you can see clearly what is in front of you. Zazen, as described previ- ously, is the foundation of all of these practices. Other practices that have not been fully described in this chapter include cultivating “Right View.” one of the practices of the Eightfold Noble Path in Buddhism, creating and using a personal koan, and breath practice in everyday situations.

Thich Nhat Hanh suggests using the question “Am I sure?” when confronted with something that we think threatens us. Such a practice could be used when faced with a stressor. “Right View” is all about real- izing that our perceptions are not reality and in fact can never be reality. In his explanation of “Right View,” Thich Nhat Hanh points out that the Buddha said, “Where there is perception, there is deception.”48 According to Hanh, “most of our perceptions are erroneous” and erro- neous perceptions lead to suffering.49 This is similar to Kabat-Zin’s emphasis on how the stress response often arises in reaction to “per- ceived” threats, rather than actual threats. Thus, practicing asking “Am I sure?” or “What is this?” potentially buys you time and allows you to tolerate your reaction until perhaps it can become a response.

 

Therefore, if possible, keep asking the question until clarity arises. The ancient application of “Right View” through questions such as “Am I sure?” or “What is this?” encourages us to question our own percep- tions and regain our sanity.

Cultivating a personal koan is also a way to reappropriate the ancient Zen practice of using an unanswerable question to knock the Zen stu- dent out of concepts and into direct experience. When you are faced by a situation that you cannot resolve or that puzzles you, you could develop a question that might help you come up with an answer indi- rectly and spontaneously. For example, if you cannot tell the difference between a threat and a mild irritant at work, developing a question about that might help. Cohen Roshi describes this process of develop- ing a personal koan in detail in her book Turning Suffering Inside Out.

Creating your own personal koan then would involve reflecting on the seemingly intractable situation and finding a question that could neutrally give you information about the situation. For example, if friends complain that you never listen to them, you might use the question “How do I listen?” as a personal koan and see what happens. From the perspective of Zen practice, asking yourself the question at arbitrary times of day and potentially before speaking with a friend without expecting an answer is perhaps the most important part of the practice. Forcing change is not part of Zen practice. The question eventually drops the issue into your subconscious and eventually an answer that you did not develop intellectually might arise. Questions tailored to stressful situations could also be devised.

These are only a few of the practical applications of Zen. Many more exist and can be cultivated. These ancient practices have trans- formed suffering into peace, joy, and liberation for many over the cen- turies. Kabat-Zin modified Zen mindfulness practices for a general audience and his programs on mindfulness-based stress reduction have been transforming the suffering caused by stress now for decades. Now, with the advent of nascent neurobiological research on how meditation in general and Zen in particular change the brain, we can finally see that to transform our suffering is to transform our percep- tion, which in turn transforms our body.

NOTES

1. Boorstein,   Sylvia   (Fall   1999).   “The   Gesture   of    Fearlessness and the Armor of Loving-Kindness,” http://ecbuddhism.blogspot.com/

 

2009/04/fear-fearlessness-what-buddhists-teach.html (accessed October 30, 2009).

2. Epel, Elissa, Daubenmier, Jennifer, Moskowitz, Judith Tedlie, Folkman, Susan, & Blackburn, Elizabeth. (2009). “Can meditation slow the rate of cellular aging? Cognitive stress, mindfulness, and telomeres,” Longevity, Regeneration, and Optimal Health, 1172, 34–53.

3. This article will be using primarily the works of James Austin, MD, in particular, Zen and the Brain, Zen-Brain Reflections, and Selfless Insight.

4. Austin, Zen-Brain Reflections, 138–140.

5. Herbert, Bob. (2009, August 21). “Voices of Anxiety.” The New York Times; Zeleny, Jeff. (2008, December 24). “Obama’s Zen State, Well It’s Hawaiian.” The New York Times.

6. Aitken, Original Dwelling Place, 47.

7. Ibid.

8. Ibid., 48–49.

9. Hanh, Teachings on Love, 8.

10. A basic difference between Rinzai Zen and Soto Zen is that Rinzai Zen focuses on sudden enlightenment whereas Soto Zen focuses on gradual enlightenment.

11. Kabat-Zin, Full Catastrophe Living, 235–238. 12. Ibid., 241.

13. Ibid.

14. Ibid., 251.

15. Jon Kabat Zin’s Full Catastrophe Living is one example of books on the subject. However, James Austin’s books Zen and the Brain, Zen-Brain Reflec- tions, and Selfless Insight are more recent texts on scientific investigation of the effects of Zen on the body and in particular on the brain.

16. Soeng, The Diamond Sutra, 63–64.

17. Cook, “Karma,” in How to Raise an Ox, 43.

18. Kwang, Dae (Fall 1999). “Mind Placebo,” http://www.kwanumzen.org/ pzc/newsletter/v11n04-1999-apr.html (accessed October 30, 2009).

19. Austin, Zen-Brain Reflections, 472. Samadhi means “an extraordinary alternate state of one-pointed absorption” or sometimes it also means merely a state.

20. http://www.berkeleyzencenter.org/Texts/jewelmirror.shtml (accessed October 30, 2009).

21. Kabat-Zin, Full Catastrophe Living, 269–273.

22. Eihei Dogen, Moon in a Dewdrop, 69.

23. Eihei Dogen, “Spring and Fall,” in How to Raise an Ox, 111.

24. Ibid.

25. Cook, 43.

26. Austin, Zen-Brain Reflections, 113–114.

27. Austin, Selfless Insight, 109.

28. Austin, Zen-Brain Reflections, xxv.

 

29. Austin, Zen-Brain Reflections, 59. 30. Ibid., 104.

31. Ibid., 141.

32. Austin, Selfless Insight, 92.

33. Austin, Zen-Brain Reflections, 86, 90.

34. Ibid., 93.

35. Ibid.

36. James Austin, Selfless Insight, 201. 37. Ibid., 271.

38. Ibid., 272.

39. Ibid., 93–94.

40. Ibid., 179–180.

41. Ibid., 187–188.

42. Ibid., 142–143.

43. Austin, Zen-Brain Reflections, xxv, xxxvi.

44. Austin, Selfless Insight, 188.

45. Ibid., 90.

46.   Ibid.,  92. 47. Ibid., 93–94.

48. Hanh, The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching, 53.

49. Ibid.

REFERENCES

Aitken, R. (1996). Original dwelling place: Zen Buddhist essays. Washington, DC: Counterpoint.

Austin, J. (2009). Selfless insight: Zen and the meditative transformations of consciousness. Boston: MIT Press.

Austin, J. (1999). Zen and the brain: Toward an understanding of meditation and consciousness. Boston: MIT Press.

Austin, J. (2006). Zen-brain reflections: Reviewing recent developments in medita- tion and states of consciousness. Boston: MIT Press.

Cohen, D. (2004a). The one who is not busy: Connecting with work in a deeply satisfying way. Layton, UT: Gibbs Smith.

Cohen, D. (2004b). Turning suffering inside out: A Zen approach to living with physical and emotional pain. Boston: Shambhala.

Cook, F. (2002). How to raise an ox: Zen practice as taught in master Dogen’s shobogenzo. Boston: Wisdom.

Dogen, E. (1995). Moon in a dewdrop: Writings of Zen master Dogen.

K. Tanahashi (Ed.); R. Aitken, E. Brown, K. Tanahashi, et al. (Trans.). New York: North Point Press.

Epel, E., Daubenmier, J., Moskowitz, J. T., Folkman, S., & Blackburn, E. (2009). Can meditation slow the rate of cellular aging? Cognitive stress,

 

mindfulness, and telomeres. Longevity, Regeneration, and Optimal Health, 1172, 34–53.

Hanh, T. N. (1999). The heart of the Buddha’s teaching. New York: Broadway Books.

Hanh, T. N. (1998). Teachings on love. Berkeley, CA: Parallax Press.

Kabat-Zin, J. (2009). Full catastrophe living: Using the wisdom of your body and mind to face stress, pain, and illness. New York: Bantam Dell.

Soeng, M. (2000). The diamond sutra: Transforming the way we perceive the world. Somerville, MA: Wisdom.

Suzuki, S. (2005). Zen mind, beginner’s mind. Trudy Dixon (Ed.). Boston: Weatherhill.

 

This page intentionally left blank

 

PART THREE

CONTEMPLATIVE PRACTICES IN ACTION: APPLICATION

PREFACE TO PART THREE

Part Three, Contemplative Practices in Action: Application, examines vari- ous applications of spiritual and contemplative practices. Delbecq’s chapter shows that learning meditation—a well-researched and founda- tional contemplative practice—can have a powerful impact on business leaders. Next, Wachholtz and Pearce remind us that spiritual traditions contain rousing practices as well as quieting practices, and these arousing practices may be useful for treating chronic pain. Finally, Manuel and Stortz examine the spirituality, health, and solidarity-promotional value of three oft-forgotten practices from Christian tradition: lamentation, intercession, and pilgrimage.

 

This page intentionally left blank

 

CHAPTER 11