A Touch of Now - An Introduction

“I sit here desperately wanting to create something; to say something on these pages that will convey my thoughts, the beauty of this spot; to share my experience of this moment in time. My chest aches and tightens, as if to squeeze out the salty tears of longing. I look up from my shaded table cracked and weathered like the hull of an ancient ship, my back warmed in the afternoon sun, and thought is inadequate to the task.
Emerald green waves, speckled white with tips of foam, roll toward me from a forest curling like a finger out into the sea. Puffy white clouds emerge from beyond this jagged green horizon and float in lazy patterns against a pale blue sky. Leaves flutter in the warm breeze and dancing shadows dabble all around my wordless perch as seagulls, screeching nature’s plan, dive for unseen morsels and a jittery squirrel buries his face in the still moist grass.
The scene is there for everyone present. My experience lost within me and an inability to truly share the wonder may be my greatest pain.”


When exactly I wrote this is uncertain. Why, is an even greater mystery? What I am certain of however, is the truth embraced by the experience. It describes a moment in which I felt the touch of “now,” and in that touch the truth was unmistakable, simple, clear, and thoroughly unspeakable. I was present to that moment and the moment shared with me all there is to know. This Blog is about my journey, then and now, into the moment and the truth I find there.


July 6, 2010

Dependent Arising and Conceptual Proliferation

      One of the first things we realize when we begin a meditation practice is that our minds are a veritable thought factory running out of control. The term we use for it is “monkey mind” because it chatters incessantly as it wildly leaps from one ideational branch to another. In the process of taming this monkey-mind so that we can find some degree of peace during our meditation, we also find that we are able to acquire an ability to slowly nudge this natural process in the direction of spiritual growth.
      One way to accomplish this is to reflect on the manner in which these thoughts, scenarios, fears, or judgmental monologues arise in our mind; to investigate their origin. When we realize that our attention has strayed from the breath or our chosen object of concentration, we stop the process and note that we have strayed from our intended subject. We try to follow the path backwards to locate what it was that had ignited the engine of our now derailed train of thought. A simple sequence that has been helpful to me is as follows.
      Initially there is Sensory Contact: the simple sensation created by contact between our sense receptors (eyes, ears, nose, tongue and receptors on the skin, and sometimes the intrusion of a thought into the mind). It might have arisen as an ache in some part of the body, or we might have experienced a new sound, or smell.
      Secondly, there is Feeling with regard to this sensory intrusion. In this regard we are referring to feeling, not as emotion, but rather as the perception of a felt quality of pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral. Other general words we might use to denote the meaning of feeling in this context are attraction/aversion/neutrality.
      Third in our sequence is Naming. Here the capacity for more subtle discrimination begins wherein we might label or categorize it in broad terms of such dichotomies as hot/cold, or bitter/sweet.
      The fourth step is Thinking where we recognize in more specific conceptual terms, a brief framing of the experience such as the water is hot or the chocolate is bitter.
      And finally the monkey emerges in full force with what Ajahn Amaro calls Conceptual Proliferation. The minds starts to run in ever widening circles creating scenarios, stories, or just ongoing chatter that can change from one subject to another. It is here that the mind strengthens the idea that there is a “me” having this experience and that there is an “I” in opposition to the world which reinforces a sense of tension and dissatisfaction with life. Perhaps one such proliferation might go like this: “why does the landlord have that water heater turned up so high. Someone could get scalded, like a baby, damn I ought to report him. But then he’d probably hike my rent or throw me out and then I’d be homeless.” And then perhaps another sense contact might arise in my stomach or throat from the fear around the thought of being put out on the street. And thus a new avenue of conceptual proliferation begins to take my mind further and further away from the truth embodied in being mindful of my present experience as it is – a sensation.
      This simple guide for reflecting on a train of distractions during meditation, often of a seemingly mysterious origin, has been valuable in helping me see the germ of the proliferation that arises in reaction to visceral experiences. Let me offer a personal experience as an example. It was during the second 30 minute session during a half-day meditation when I recognized that I had been distracted from my breathing and was carrying on a conceptual conversation within my mind. My hands and back muscles were tight, but I was able to stop the process of increasing tension, and followed the arising of this condition back to its source. This is what I realized had taken place in a very short moment.
      Sense Contact: I experienced a sensation inside my ear.
      Feeling: It was aversive, unsatisfactory, unpleasant.
      Naming: I identified it was an itch and
      Thinking: It is not unlike the dry skin itch for which I have drops.
      Conceptual Proliferation: I thought about the first time I went to a clinic for an ear ache and they flushed out my ear with water. It hurt. I then recalled having gone to the specialist who ultimately provided me with the drops and recalled a conversation where I mentioned trying to be careful in removing unwanted ear hair. Then the self-conversation changed the scenario into how she might get a hair out of the ear canal with tweezers; the need to keep still so as to avoid puncturing the eardrum; needing to lie on my side on the exam table; then an added safety measure of having nurse hold my head still. But I still might jerk suddenly, I told myself, when the doctor extracted the hair. But how would she do that exactly; slowly, in increments, or quickly with one swift yank. At this point I felt a queasy feeling in my stomach and I realized where I had gone. At this point I realized I was distracted and was then able to follow the steps backwards to that moment of sensation in my ear; noting of course, that it was gone.

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