Over the next several weeks practice noting your Inner Critic as you go
about your daily life. Give this voice a nickname if you’d like.
1. Ask yourself, if someone were actually standing next to me and supplying the same commentary, how would I handle it? You’d probably respond with something like, Thanks anyway, but I’m leaving now.
2. Without getting sucked into debate, each time you notice the Inner Critic, take a pause.
3. Breathing in, recognize the voice of criticism, and whatever it’s
implying about you or doing to your emotional state. Acknowledge that
experience without needing to either banish it or rationalize it. This is how I feel right now: tired and insecure and angry.
4. Breathing out, let go. Instead of wrestling with self-judgment,
see it for what it is, and turn your attention somewhere more useful.
Focus only on the sensation of breathing as best as you’re able, without
striving or forcing anything.
5. Wish yourself well, like you would a close friend in distress.
Picture freedom, relief, or ease with each exhalation as an intention
for now or sometime in the future.
In the healing work of
self-compassion, it’s important to avoid the trap of getting caught up
in self-improvement. When you have a pervasive sense of unworthiness,
this can be tricky. The identity of unworthiness is formed of self-blame
and a deluge of self-judgments offered by an inner critic who wants
nothing to do with self-compassion. It’s far more interested in
masochistic endeavors like self-improvement projects that it’s never
satisfied with. But this just gets you more stuck in feeling deficient
for several reasons, the foremost being the very idea that there’s a
faulty and unworthy self that needs to be improved.
Although it’s important to seek therapy and health promoting
modalities when you need support. You can also be filled at times with
the belief, that you can fix your unworthy self through more workshops,
new therapies, or a better diet or exercise program. In many ways it’s
no different from always striving for more money or more things. It’s
just another variation on eternally wanting something more or better.
Here’s how the trap works: Setting a goal of a better self calls
forth wanting. Wanting calls forth striving. Striving calls forth
judging. And judging becomes a way of life that brings a critical
orientation to everything: “Oh, I like that! Oh, I don’t like that! Oh,
that’s good! Oh, that’s bad!” It never stops, and while the mind is thus
engaged, it isn’t in the here and now; it’s preoccupied with getting
somewhere else. This craving to be somehow better can fill up a lifetime
yet never be fulfilled.
The mind that’s perennially striving for a better place
or condition creates suffering by leaving the present moment, which is
the only place we can experience love, peace, or happiness.
Remember, this moment truly is the time of your life, and what’s
important is to be here for it, to actually live in the here and now.
There is no other moment to live in. The mind that’s perennially
striving for a better place or condition creates suffering by leaving
the present moment, which is the only place we can experience love,
peace, or happiness. When you are somewhere other than now, you can miss
the most precious experiences of your life. This can be akin to
searching for your camera to preserve an experience that you end up
missing because you’re searching for the camera. A mind that is extended
toward the future is focused on some goal, and even if this goal is
reached, the striving mind will then measure how the new condition
compares with the past, thus ensuring that you remain perennially
preoccupied with the past and future and rarely, if ever, actually live
in the here and now.
Living in the present moment doesn’t mean that you discard your
goals, whether that means having a nice car that’s paid for, moving your
family to a better home or safer neighborhood, or losing weight. It
means remaining oriented to the here and now as you work towards your
aspirations.
The judging mind can always find something that isn’t quite right,
particularly when it’s looking from this nebulous thing called “self.”
We tend to get the standards by which we judge ourselves by looking
around and comparing ourselves to others. But if you consider how many
billions of people there are on this planet, you can see that this is a
no-win proposition. There will always be someone thinner, fitter, nicer,
more accomplished, more attractive, more popular—whatever.
Noticing what you do with your mind and these comparisons can help
you see how much suffering is caused by this endless stream of judgments
and the violence of self-criticism. You may hate your potbelly and want
to get rid of it, or you may despise the way you chicken out and fail
to say what you really think. But hating and criticizing things about
yourself only creates more suffering. This is like a military strategy
based on the idea that war can create peace—that if you can blast the
inadequate self to smithereens, or maybe just threaten to do so, you
will finally feel okay and have peace. This way of thinking just etches
the neurological pathways of suffering more deeply into your brain and
colors your thoughts with narratives about what’s wrong with you and how
you need to improve.
As you grow in mindfulness and compassion, you may begin to realize
that contentment is the greatest of wealth and that no money or things
can buy it. Being content with who you are is the greatest of treasures.
The way to peace is never through war, and the way to happiness is
never through hatred. Peace is the way to peace, and happiness comes
from happiness. If you want compassion to grow in your life, practice
compassion. If you want criticism to grow in your life, practice
criticism. It’s simple, really: Your attitude is the water of your life.
You can promote feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness by pouring on
self- blame and criticism, or you can promote feelings of happiness and
well-being by pouring on self-compassion.
The quality of your attitude is influenced by many things, but
especially by your mood and your orientation to life itself. If you have
a critical orientation, you’ll find unlimited things to criticize and
may find yourself caught in the trap of self-improvement for much of
your life. If you have a compassionate orientation, you’ll find many
opportunities for compassion and may discover freedom and happiness in
your life right now. The attitude of self-compassion can grow even as
you’re attending to your pain and woundedness, or even as you reflect on
mistakes you’ve made that hurt you or others. You grow self-compassion
by practicing self-compassion, just like a pianist becomes more skilled
by practicing the piano. Small errors, such as forgetting something at
the store, or large errors, like forgetting your wedding anniversary,
can become opportunities for you to grow a little more in self-kindness
and self-compassion.
Yes, there tears to cry, as well as embarrassing errors and sometimes
shameful choices to take responsibility for, but even as you’re shaken
to the core by difficult emotions that flood through you, you can attend
to your wounded heart with acknowldgement and self-compassion. In this
way you can enhance the values you would like to grow in yourself, even
as you attend to suffering with friendly and kind attention. In time,
suffering subsides, just like a child’s tears subside after she’s been
rocked and sung to enough. As the pain is lifted, her face changes and
becomes beautiful with the calm after the storm. Know that for you too
there will come a time when you have cried yourself to the end of your
tears and a feeling of peace may surround and embrace you. This is one
of the greatest treasures of mindfulness and self-compassion.
Mindfulness Practice: Self-Compassion Meditation
Self-compassion allows you to be with and care for your own
woundedness and pain and live with your heart wide open. The moment you
embrace the disowned and wounded parts of yourself, the husks of your
old narrative-based self can fall away.
All of us sometimes act unskillfully and make poor choices that hurt
others, and we are all sometimes hurt by the actions of others. Rather
than pushing thoughts and feelings about these things away, and rather
than trying to correct anything or anyone, simply be with the thoughts
and feelings that come up for you with curiosity and acknowledgement and
let them be . As you practice self-compassion meditation, the intention
is to be open to all of your thoughts, emotions, and sensations, to let
all the streams of perception flow through you unfettered. It’s a
practice of being with yourself just as you are.
Give yourself at least twenty to thirty minutes for this practice.
Choose a place to practice where you feel safe and at ease. If you like,
place some objects that are special and comforting to you on a shelf
nearby, or light a candle or arrange some flowers in this space that you
create for yourself. Know that you’re giving yourself a gift of love.
Breathe: Begin by practicing mindfulness of
breathing for ten minutes, returning to the breath with self-compassion
every time you leave it. Let your thoughts and emotions come and go.
Being present…
Recall and notice: Staying in touch with your
breath, recall an emotion that came up for you during the ten minutes of
mindful breathing. Please be wise in picking an emotion that feels
workable to you—you don’t have to choose 10. How about a 5 or 6? If no
prominent emotions came up for you, simply recall a recent experience of
one. Notice what happens in your body as you feel into this emotion and
acknowledge any parts of your body that are affected. Be open to and
present with any other emotions that may come up. Perhaps shame feels
like a rope wrapped around your chest that keeps getting tighter and
makes it hard to breathe. What does the emotion you’re having feel like?
By feeling more deeply into it, you may discover other thoughts and
emotions—perhaps self-hatred that reaches into your gut, where it churns
and twists and hurts. Keep paying attention. Feel more deeply into
what’s happening and stay present in your body. Let whatever happens in
your mind and body happen. Notice if old unwanted memories that have
lain hidden arise. If they do, let them come, and notice how they feel
in the body.
Be kind to yourself. Let everything be in this
unrestricted kind of attention; don’t block anything out. Don’t let the
trance of unworthiness swallow your heart. Stay near the pain with
compassion. It’s the awakened heart that stays with and heals. It’s all
happening right here and now, where your body is. Stay with everything
you’re experiencing, and remember that this practice is about offering
compassion to yourself and feeling that compassion. It’s not about
figuring anything out or fixing or getting rid of anything. Remember, it
all comes down to love, including love for yourself. It all comes down
to what you’re doing in this moment. Use the breath as your way to
remain anchored in the present moment, letting it come and go as it
will.
Let your emotions come and go. In the same way that
you allow your breath to come and go freely, allow your emotions to
come and go freely. Notice any judgments that come up for you as you
allow strong or unwanted emotions to arise. Notice how the judgments
affect your emotions, perhaps blocking them or washing them out, perhaps
calling forth other emotions. Welcome all of your emotions as you
observe and acknowledge the judgments without indulging them.
Stay with compassion. Be with whatever emotions
come up for you with compassion. Welcome each with kindness and meet all
of them with gentleness and tenderness. Hold yourself in the arms of
self-compassion and be present with what you feel. Stay with this
practice and your emotions for as long as you like.
Breathe. When you’re ready to end this practice, return to practicing mindfulness of the breath for ten minutes.
Be grateful. Offer a measure of gratitude to yourself for taking the time to care for yourself in this way.
Take a little time to write in your journal about what came up for
you in this practice. Write about any emotions you noticed being
attached to one another, such as helplessness bringing up fear, or fear
evoking anger. Write about all of the emotions that came up for you here
and whether or how they changed when you held them with
self-compassion.
As you continue to practice self-compassion, you may notice more and
more things about the self you’ve created with all of your old stories.
Perhaps you tried to be especially good to counterbalance the problems
in your family. Perhaps you learned to be generous of yourself as a way
of earning the value you felt you lacked. Self-compassion lets you be
with all of the hurt, loneliness, and fear that the narrative-based self
has concealed. In the wide-open heart of self-compassion, the wounded
child within you will begin to heal.
Dr.
Shigeaki Hinohara, from Japan, turned 104 recently. One of the world's
longest-serving physicians and educators, Hinohara's magic touch is
legendary. Since 1941, he has been healing patients at St. Luke's
International Hospital in Tokyo and teaching at St. Luke's College of
Nursing. He has published around 15 books since his 75th birthday,
including "Living Long, Living Good", which sold more than 1.2 million
copies. Image source As
the founder of the New Elderly Movement, Hinohara encourages others to
live a long and happy life - a quest in which no role model is better
than the doctor himself. Nearly 10 years ago, he was interviewed, and
gave his advice for a long and healthy life. Dr. Shigeaki Hinohara's
main points for a long and happy life are:
1. All people who live long regardless of nationality, race or gender share one thing in common: None are overweight.
For
breakfast I drink coffee, a glass of milk and some orange juice with a
tablespoon of olive oil in it. Olive oil is great for the arteries and
keeps my skin healthy. Lunch is milk and a few cookies, or nothing when I
am too busy to eat. I never get hungry because I focus on my work.
Dinner is veggies, a bit of fish and rice, and, twice a week, 100 grams
of lean meat.
2. Always plan ahead.
My schedule book is already full until next year, with lectures and my usual hospital work.
3. There is no need to ever retire, but if one must, it should be a lot later than 65.
The
current retirement age was set at 65 half a century ago, when the
average life-expectancy in Japan was 68 years and only 125 Japanese
people were over 100 years old. Today, Japanese women live to be around
86 and men 80, and we have 36,000 centenarians in our country. In 20
years we will have about 50,000 people over the age of 100...
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4. Share what you know.
I
give 150 lectures a year, some for 100 elementary-school children,
others for 4,500 business people. I usually speak for 60 to 90 minutes,
standing, to stay strong.
5.
When a doctor recommends you take a test or have some surgery, ask
whether the doctor would suggest that his or her spouse or children go
through such a procedure.
Contrary
to popular belief, doctors can't cure everyone. So why cause
unnecessary pain with surgery? I think music and animal therapy can help
more than most doctors imagine
6. To stay healthy, always take the stairs and carry your own stuff.
I take two stairs at a time, to get my muscles moving.
7. My inspiration is Robert Browning's poem "Abt Vogler."
My
father used to read it to me. It encourages us to make big art, not
small scribbles. It says to try to draw a circle so huge that there is
no way we can finish it while we are alive. All we see is an arch; the
rest is beyond our vision but it is there in the distance.
8. Pain is mysterious, and having fun is the best way to forget it.
If
a child has a toothache, and you start playing a game together, he or
she immediately forgets the pain. Hospitals must cater to the basic need
of patients: we all want to have fun. At St. Luke's we have music and
animal therapies, and art classes.
9. Don't be crazy about amassing material things.
Remember: you don't know when your number is up, and you can't take it with you to the next place.
10. Hospitals must be designed and prepared for major disasters, and they must accept every patient who appears at their doors.
We
designed St. Luke's so we can operate anywhere: in the basement, in the
corridors, in the chapel. Most people thought I was crazy to prepare
for a catastrophe, but on March 20, 1995, I was unfortunately proven
right when members of the Aum Shinrikyu religious cult launched a
terrorist attack in the Tokyo subway. We accepted 740 victims and in two
hours figured out that it was sarin gas that had hit them. Sadly we
lost one person, but we saved 739 lives.
11. Science alone can't cure or help people.
Science
lumps us all together, but illness is individual. Each person is
unique, and diseases are connected to their hearts. To know the illness
and help people, we need liberal and visual arts, not just medical ones.
My partner and I had been together
for twenty years when we finally sought help for the long-term
discrepancy in desire between us. I simply didn’t want sex as often as
he did. You know how you don’t want to go to the gym, but always feel
good after the workout? Sex was like that for me. It just wasn’t
something I had the innate desire to do.
My body was disconnected from sexual pleasure. Throughout my entire
life, I heard messages from the world like “women don’t like sex” and
“women who like sex are sluts.” Truth be told, guys don’t have it any
easier. They are constantly asked to “be a man” and at the same time are
receiving messages that they should not show their desire, because that
could be creepy or predatory.
A great part of being an adult is that we get to choose which
messages we want to believe, including messages about sexuality.
However, just choosing to replace these messages with more permissive
beliefs was not going to automatically reconnect my body with desire.
So the first thing I did was talk to my doctor. But my gynecologist was unable to offer a solution. So we started seeing a sex and relationship coach,
and that’s when the real progress started. You might be reading this
and saying: “What the heck is a sex coach?” Turns out, it’s this awesome
person that you can spill your heart out to, who will then look at you
and say, “That makes sense. Those are the beliefs you’ve been taught.
But what do you actually believe? And based on that, what do you want to
do about it?”
My answer to that question was that I believed, buried under the
mountain of negative social messages I had heard my whole life, and my
long and distracting to-do list which previously always seemed to take
precedence over pleasure, that I was a human being with sexual needs and
desires. And I wanted to connect with that part of myself. What
happened next was life-changing for me, so I’d like to share how focused
attention helped me learn to connect with my own sexual pleasure. I affectionately call this mindful practice “Breathing Down to There.”
The goal of this practice is to connect your breath from your lungs all the way down to your pelvic floor. The first time
I did this exercise, I couldn’t make the connection. However, after a
few more tries, I began to notice some warm and tingly feelings in
places that, as I mentioned earlier, seemingly had been on hiatus. It
was as if through this practice I was giving myself permission (maybe
for the first time ever!) to truly enjoy my own sexuality. Inviting my
whole body to become more fully integrated into my overall awareness
practice has not only increased my sexual desire, but given me a greater
sense of overall well-being in life. Sound interesting? Try it out
yourself:
Take a few moments to get comfortable, either sitting up or lying down and then close your eyes.
Spend a few minutes breathing into your chest, noticing your breath
in your lungs and the spread of oxygen from your lungs to the far
reaches of your body like your fingers and your toes. Placing a hand
over your chest may help you be with your body.
Then move your hand down to your belly and breathe there for a few
minutes, noticing whether this is difficult or easy and any other
emotions, sensations, or thoughts arise. As adults, we often tighten
this area of our body unconsciously, so invite those muscles to relax
with each inhale and exhale.
Next, spend time breathing down to your genitals, once again
observing your experiences without judgment. If you begin to feel warmth
and pleasure, give yourself permission to acknowledge those feelings.
Finally, bring your attention back to your whole body by feeling the
outbreath from your belly for a few breaths and then from your lungs
for a few breaths. If it feels right, take a moment to appreciate each
part of your body before opening your eyes.
Each of us has a different set of sexual experiences and needs. When
we feel disconnected from pleasure, simply bringing non-judgmental
awareness to our bodies can help us clear away the baggage of cultural
narratives. And in doing so, we can uncover our own unique sexual story
and gain compassion for ourselves, wherever we are at in our sexual
journey.
Subscribe to learn more about the best mindfulness practices.
In traditional descriptions,
meditation is likened to training a horse. The sensations, impulses, and
reactions in our bodies are like the untamed instincts of an animal,
and when we take our seat in practice, we learn how to ride this energy
with skill. As good equestrians know, the best way to ride a horse is
not trying to control it with fear, force or frustration, but by
confidently offering a partnership. We listen and respond to the horse’s
needs for reassurance, guidance and gentleness, as well as recognizing
its intuitive connection to the earth and environment. Based on what the
horse tells us, we adjust our journey as needed, not losing sight of
our intended destination. In this way, rider and horse can travel in
harmony, each taking charge according to its strengths.
The analogy helps as we understand more about the workings of mind,
brain, and body together. Much human stress comes from our clumsy
handling of animal drives. Whereas a horse just acts in a horse-like
way, following its instincts for better or worse, we are blessed
(sometimes cursed) with the cognitive capacity to reflect on what’s
going on. This brings great power, as we no longer have to follow every
feeling within us, but also great suffering, because our deeply-rooted
drives remain strong, not easily managed by the more recently evolved
skill of self-mastery. When experience is painful, not only does our
body produce urges to fight or flee, but our thinking mind joins in the
act, with desperate attempts to get rid of the pain, usually with
ineffectual problem-solving. Because thinking doesn’t trump feeling,
we’re left in a stressful loop—the frantic ruminations of the mind can be felt by the body as something else to fear, creating more stress, pain, and rumination.
By noticing what’s going on in our bodies and minds, we
step out of the loop of reactivity. Instead of being like a horseman or
woman in a frenetic and futile battle with a frightened mount, we stop
trying to grapple our way to steadiness.
This is where our horse-riding helps. As well as greater cognitive
powers, humans also have access to awareness. By noticing what’s going
on in our bodies and minds, we step out of the loop of reactivity.
Instead of being like a horseman or woman in a frenetic and futile
battle with a frightened mount, we stop trying to grapple our way to
steadiness. Instead we relax and settle in our seat, bumpy though the
ride may be. We might start talking to ourselves kindly and softly, like
a horse whisperer, saying something like: “It’s OK. I know this is
painful right now, and scary too. So let’s work together to move through
this. I’ll hear and acknowledge your distress, recognizing that you’d
like to get away from where we are, and you can trust that I’m steering
well.” Responding to this calm confidence, rather than panic or anger, our bodies may begin to settle too.
As a species, we find ourselves in an “in-between place” (to borrow a
phrase from Pema Chodron). Conscious enough to realize our suffering
and maybe the patterns that lead to it, but not always aware and resilient enough to respond to that suffering wisely. Fortunately, just as our bodies can be strengthened with exercise, so we can train our minds.
By learning how we add stress to our suffering, and training our minds
to do things differently, we can start to step out of the struggle. Life
becomes less like being bucked by a bronco, and a little more akin to
Olympic showjumping. Plenty of hurdles, but a bit more poise.
Try working with this “Horse-Riding” practice, a few times a day, for a few minutes at a time (or longer if you like).
Horse-Riding Practice
Take your seat. Sit on a sturdy chair, if possible
with your upper body upright (not stiffly so) and your feet in contact
with the ground. Imagine yourself taking the dignified posture of a rider on a steed.
Listen to the horse. Notice what’s happening in
your body right now. As best you can. bring an attitude of kindly
interest to your investigation. The intention is not to judge or change
or what’s happening, but to hear what ‘your horse’ is saying, with
attentive respect. Be aware of gut reactions, impulses, and emotions,
which signal your intuitive, animal relationship with what’s going on.
Listen to and acknowledge these powerful feelings, knowing that though
they are powerful and offer important, intuitive information and
motivation, However, also remember they aren’t in sole charge of the
ride.
Acknowledge the rider. Bring awareness to the
cognitive mind, your thoughts. Let go, for now, of creating or following
ideas—just observe, with a friendly curiosity: “What’s going on in my
mind?” Notice any thoughts about how your “horse” is feeling or
reacting, any tendency to want to reject, resist, or try to force the
experience to be different from how it is.
Notice the terrain. Open awareness to the
environment around—notice what can be seen, heard, touched, smelled, and
any corresponding sensations in your body and thoughts in your mind.
What’s it like to be horse-riding in this space, this terrain, here and now?
Come back to center. Check your posture and state
of mind—is your body still steadfastly in touch with the ground?
Upright? Not tense? Is your mind present, awake, attentive? If needed,
re-settle by connecting your attention to the breath in your belly for a
time.
Decide how to ride. Now, ask yourself: Based on
what’s here, in this body, mind, and the world around me, what course
would be helpful to take right now? In which direction, toward what or
whom, shall the onward journey take? Listen to your gut, your heart,
your head, and the feedback you receive from the environment and people
around you. They can all be factored in to deciding your course, though
they may all have different and sometimes apparently conflicting
contributions to make. As best you can, let choices come from a place of
awareness and response to the whole situation—your inner and outer
world. Recognize that there may be no one right course to take, and you
can re-navigate at any time, by checking in again with the rider and
horse. Allow yourself to be still, and not to make a move, if this is
what’s most needed for the moment.
Over the next several weeks practice noting your Inner Critic as you go
about your daily life. Give this voice a nickname if you’d like.
1. Ask yourself, if someone were actually standing next to me and supplying the same commentary, how would I handle it? You’d probably respond with something like, Thanks anyway, but I’m leaving now.
2. Without getting sucked into debate, each time you notice the Inner Critic, take a pause.
3. Breathing in, recognize the voice of criticism, and whatever it’s
implying about you or doing to your emotional state. Acknowledge that
experience without needing to either banish it or rationalize it. This is how I feel right now: tired and insecure and angry.
4. Breathing out, let go. Instead of wrestling with self-judgment,
see it for what it is, and turn your attention somewhere more useful.
Focus only on the sensation of breathing as best as you’re able, without
striving or forcing anything.
5. Wish yourself well, like you would a close friend in distress.
Picture freedom, relief, or ease with each exhalation as an intention
for now or sometime in the future.
One of the central teachings of
mindfulness is that it’s possible to “know” our emotions in different
ways. With sadness for example, depending on how we pay attention, we
can become aware of the momentary, subjective experience of sadness, or
we can follow a conceptual, largely thought-infused view of what it
means to feel sad. We use mindfulness-based interventions (MBIs) to help
people experience the distinction between these different modes of
thinking (we’ll call these modes the narrative and experiential modes.)
For the past 10 years researchers have been trying to identify the
specific brain regions that become engaged as people experience their
emotions in these different ways. Sounds like a worthwhile endeavor, but
how do we actually go about investigating these two modes in the brain?
An early approach by Norman Farb and his colleagues
trained study participants to ask themselves a number of questions
about personal traits such as if they felt they were stupid, smart,
trustworthy, or lazy while being scanned by a functional MRI machine.
These questions activated either a narrative/analytic mode (“What does
this say about me as a person?” “Is this a good or a bad thing?”) or an
experiential/concrete mode (“What is occurring from one moment to the
next?” or “What am I aware of in my body?”). Once people were trained,
the researchers looked at how mindfulness training interacted with these
two modes to see whether each had a unique brain response. Two groups
were tested, the first just before enrolling in an MBSR program and the
second after completing the program.
What did they find?
People who were practicing mindfulness showed marked reductions
in activity in a region of the brain often linked to self-evaluation
and analysis (the medial prefrontal cortex). They also showed increased activity in regions linked to direct, moment-by-moment sensory experiences (the lateral prefrontal cortex, especially the insula).
Why we get caught up thinking about ourselves
In non-meditators, there was a strong connection between the two
parts of the brain I described above (right insula and the medial
prefrontal cortex), whereas in those trained in mindfulness these
regions were “uncoupled.”
Here’s what that means: The fact that these two regions are tightly
connected prior to practicing mindfulness suggests that it is usually
very difficult for a person to focus on the moment without setting off
thoughts about the self.
The “uncoupling” of these two parts of the brain that is associated
with mindfulness suggests that the person is now able to maintain
attention on body experience, without automatically activating “stories”
about the self. Having actual data showing this phenomenon is hugely
important, as it supports the notion of a fundamental neural
dissociation between two distinct forms of self-awareness—narrative and
experiential modes—that are habitually integrated but can be uncoupled
through mindfulness training.
Can we learn to be less self-reflective?
Building on the findings of how mindfulness practice can heighten the
contrast between the narrative and experiential modes of processing,
the next question is whether people can learn how to do this when they
are feeling sad and not just reflecting on self-descriptive adjectives. Farb and colleagues
now returned to the fMRI scanner and asked people who were about to
start or had recently completed Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction
(MBSR) to watch sad and neutral film clips while being scanned. For all
participants, the sad film clips were again associated with medial
prefrontal cortex activation (self-evaluation and analysis) as well as
in language centers and regions that direct self-focus and reappraisal.
Lower levels of activity were also found in areas that convey
information about present moment awareness and bodily sensations (the
somatosensory cortex and right insula). What is interesting is that when
the effects of mindfulness training were examined, the group that
completed the 8-week program were less likely to get mentally caught up
in feeling sad than those who had not undergone training. Their brain
patterns changed: the frontal regions that direct self-focus were less
activated, and their moment-to-moment sensory awareness activation of
the insula increased.
How to be present with sadness
If you’ve ever sat in on an MBSR or Mindfulness Based Cognitive
Therapy (MBCT) class you will know that the practice of mindfulness is
used to help you access information about what is occurring in your body
when emotions like sadness are present. Through the practice, you learn
to allow yourself to watch emotions as they arise—without getting
caught up in thinking about them—and to create room for bodily
sensations that accompany emotions. Considering the impact on the brain,
this practice may help restore the balance between neural networks that
support both problem-solving and body-based representations of
emotions, especially when they are tipped too strongly toward the
former. In fact, when we are focusing exclusively on self-referential
problem-solving when we’re sad, we’re more likely to fall into a cycle of depression.
The practice of mindfulness allows us to make a key attentional
shift—we can approach our experiences from an experiential mode rather
than a narrative mode. The brain research indicates that this shift
makes tangible changes to our minds and that training in mindfulness
enables this shift to occur even in the presence of sad thoughts and
feelings. In this way, mindfulness helps us create space for both the
emotion and the self to co-exist, moving in tandem into the coming
moment with a greater capacity for choice and self-care.
