Is Somebody Pushing Your Buttons?

Years ago I began to notice a mental pattern of getting annoyed and aggravated by women who were powerful. No matter how nice they were, something about them pushed my buttons. It wasn't until after I started meditating regularly and began to notice the recurring pattern that I could see that these women were openly expressing what I was actively and covertly repressing in myself. I was stuffing my power so I resented them for ‘flaunting’ theirs.

This was a big discovery for me, the kind of discovery that happens quite naturally with the regular practice of insight meditation. Once I saw the pattern I was then able to see through it to the deep fear of allowing my own power to be expressed. (‘If I express my power, will I become an intolerable diva, unlikable by anyone I care about? Isn't it much safer to stuff it?’ Good grief! Who needs external limits when I can so effectively dis-empower myself?)

This dislike of people who express what we’re repressing is an example of psychological projection. Does it ring any bells for you? Is there a certain personality trait that really pushes your buttons, causing a visceral negative reaction that activates judgments and fears that are out of proportion to the situation at hand.

Many of us have particular people in our lives who have the power to upset us. But the key to these relationships is the power they have over us, causing us to feel threatened. For example, we may have strong negative feelings about a sitting president, but once he is no longer in office our antipathy dissipates considerably. They are no longer perceived as a threat.

Likewise there may be a family member who we perceive as having power over us, even if it is not a physical power but the ability to break our hearts.

When someone is pushing our buttons but they don’t have any power over us, then it is something else. If this brings someone to mind, ask yourself:  Is it some particular trait that annoys or upsets you? Is it something that brings up a lot of emotional energy and tension in the body? Do you find there are a number of people with these same traits that activate this energy? If so, this is probably a case of projection.

Next time you feel your buttons pushed, take the opportunity to investigate. What is it that bothers you so much? Listen to the judgments you are making, the opinions so strongly stated in your mind. These are rich clues to let you know what aspect of yourself is being stuffed down, imprisoned deep within, rattling the bars and yelling for help.

Anytime we are doing an inner investigation, it is always beneficial to sense in to whatever physical sensations arise with the thoughts and emotions present. With the thoughts we may get caught up in a dense and circular story, or we go off on tangents that take us away from the heart of the investigation. If we focus on the felt sense of the experience, and breathe into the area that is tight or achy with compassion, we become more open in our thoughts and emotions as well.

I am happy to say that today I admire powerful women and enjoy their company. I accept leadership positions myself as a natural part of maturing. I make a point of learning how to be skillful with power, to be compassionate and generous, to listen, to collaborate and to bring all of who I am to whatever I do. And if someone finds being around me pushes their buttons, may they investigate the true cause. It ain't me, babe!

Accessing the Wiser Self

I am reading the book Bouncing Back, Rewiring your Brain for Maximum Resilience and Well-Being by Linda Graham, MFT, a therapist and meditation teacher. She is a colleague of Rick Hanson, author of Buddha’s Brain and Hardwiring Happiness. Both of them explain how meditation practice makes changes in the way the brain functions, creating a greater capacity to experience ease, clarity and joy. I highly recommend their books, especially for those who find scientific facts more comfortable than spirituality.

In Buddha’s Brain, Rick introduced to the general public all the newest neurological information about how our brains function. He writes so clearly that it made it possible for a non-science-minded person like me to grasp at least some of what he was saying, but it was all very new and challenging.

Linda’s Bouncing Back is an easier read for me. Her explanations of the science are equally clear but I am more ready to absorb it, having been prepped by previous reading and teachings. But brain physiology is only a part of her focus in this book. She offers many stories, drawn from her own life and her patients’ experiences, and she provides all kinds of exercises as well.

I was surprised to see that one of these exercises was to cultivate a relationship with our Wiser Self. Her recommendation of how to come into contact with that wiser self was just like the meditation practice I was taught many years ago, in which I came into contact with a woman wearing white silk pajamas dancing in a bubble of light, looking so radiant and joyful that I definitely wanted what she was having!

My book Tapping the Wisdom Within, A Guide to Joyous Living , published in 1994, is a record of my conversations with that wiser self who helped me recover from a debilitating illness and awaken to the joy of being present in every moment.

Over the past two decades of study, practice and teaching of Buddhism, that earlier experience and the book have been somewhat sidelined by me.

On a recent silent retreat at Spirit Rock Meditation Center I had a strong insight -- reinforced by the woven quality of the golden grassy California hills -- that it is important to weave all of who I am into the fabric of my being. Since then I have noticed when some part of who I am has been shunned or hidden, and when that happens I see what I can do to weave it back into my present life. For example, I noticed, for example, that on my LinkedIn education profile, I had somehow forgotten to include the year I spent at Temple University. I added it in with a story about my experience:

First semester had a graduate school boyfriend whose idea of a great date was an evening at the library. Got lots of A's. But wanted time out from school. Mom said 'No, honey, you're doing so well, hang in there.' Second semester was my first East Coast spring spent lolling around on campus with friends and attending their classes if they sounded more interesting than mine. I got all F's and an A in modern dance. Mom looked at my report card and said, 'Wow, you sure showed me.' Oops. It wasn't going on HER permanent record, now was it? I grew up a bit in that moment.

Telling that story leaves me feeling a bit lighter. By weaving in the truth of a past situation, I can let go of all the tightness it takes to keep it hidden. I now really understand that when we don’t acknowledge parts of ourselves, we carry the burden of the negative feelings we have about them. Those feelings block the light of joy that is possible in any moment.

While I can’t say that my book and my experience were hidden, as they appear prominently on my websites, in fact I rarely discuss them. I know they are from the same infinite wisdom source of Buddhism, but I didn't want to confuse my students by bringing in non-Buddha-based material (even though Sylvia Boorstein did call my book 'jargon-free dharma' after reading it many years ago when I was in her class.)

So having somewhat sidelined my dear Wiser Self and the book that came out of those inner conversations, what a treat it was for me to come upon Linda Graham's suggestion to do the very kind of meditation exercise I was doing when I first met my wiser self, dancing in a bubble of light, radiant with joy.

In class the students wanted to try opening to that inner wisdom, so I guided them in a brief meditation like the one I was taught so many years ago at College of Marin. Here it is:

EXERCISE

Imagine yourself in a natural setting where you feel safe and relaxed. Rest there as long as you like, open to the sights, sounds, smells and textures of this imaginary place.

If at any time a person or animal enters into your space, ask ‘What information do you have for me?’ Then open to the answer.

By relaxing the mind, opening to all of what is possible in our experience, not just the tight patterns of every-day thinking, we have access to the answers we need in that moment.

The students liked this exercise. One said she didn't want it to stop. So why don’t we do this kind of meditation all the time? Well, we certainly could. But let’s discuss the differences between meditation where we simply practice staying present, anchored in physical sensation, and this kind of imagination relaxation-exploration meditation.

What we are doing in the first is training the muscle of mind to find the here and now even more interesting than the past and future, and more fruitful, because the here and now is the only place we can actually do something about anything. We are learning how to be in relationship with whatever causes and conditions arise. We can greet whatever arises with compassion when we create enough space to receive it.

The imagination exercise is valuable for self-exploration and calming the mind. But what are we saying about the present moment if we always rush off to our ‘happy place’ when the going gets difficult? We are saying that we are not able to cope with being present, that when we are uncomfortable with what is going on we need an escape hatch. This makes an enemy out of causes and conditions of our lives, which in turn sets us up to be in battle mode. How can we find joy and equanimity when we are labeling parts of our experience unacceptable?

Now that I think about it, this is similar to the ‘weave all of who you are in the fabric of your experience’ message. When we can allow all of what is happening to be present in our experience, not turning away, not hiding from it, not pushing or stuffing down some parts of it, then we are practicing a skillful compassionate spaciousness that can hold it all, whatever it is.

Of course, sometimes the present moment is challenging or uncomfortable. We can think of a thousand things we'd rather be doing or thinking about. But when we open to all that is going on, we see that the discomfort is never all that is going on, is it? In any given moment there may be pain but there is also something neutral and probably something pleasurable. We are not avoiding one and promoting the other. Instead we are saying, for example, ‘My knee hurts AND the sky is blue.’ ‘Anger is present in my experience. I feel it in my jaw (or fist or chest) AND, at the very same time, I notice that my thigh feels neutral.’ This person is being obnoxious AND I feel healthy. Notice that we use the conjunction 'and' instead of 'but.' We are not replacing one experience with another. We are simply opening our aperture a little wider to take in all of what is going on in this moment.

In this way, we are able to see things in perspective and create a sense of equanimity, where we can balance all the causes and conditions of our lives. And by being present we can see what if anything needs to be done, something impossible to do if we are off in our place of escape.

Both these kinds of meditation practices have their uses. As an occasional exercise or an intense inner-exploration, accessing the Wiser Self and asking for answers is a valuable technique. Give it a try!

You don't have to walk a tightrope

After a summer hiatus, our meditation class happily regrouped this week.

Since we last met, much has happened in our lives and in the world. We looked at how we relate to all that arises in our experience, whether in our personal lives or in the news.

How do you handle what arises in your experience?

Do you see yourself walking on a tightrope over a deep chasm while you try to balance too many plates?

Perhaps you have developed some coping skills that help you deal with whatever arises. Pause to consider how you handle sudden difficult situations in your life, ongoing conditions and unsettling news. Are they effective in helping you to find equanimity?

EXERCISE

Is there some situation or condition that is currently causing you concern? If so, tell yourself the story about it, get caught up in it enough so that it is active in your mind.

Now pause.  Notice any place in your body where you feel a new sensation, perhaps tension, tightness or achiness.

If you find tension anywhere, put your hand there. (If your hands are cold, rub them together first.)

Breathe into the area with tenderness and compassion. With each inhale imagine healing energy creating spaciousness. With each exhale imagine releasing the tightness and  discomfort. Just this simple activity can help to create more ease in the body and mind. You can spend as much time as feels useful, and you can do this on as many areas as needed.


Through this exercise we become more aware of how the body holds our stories, and how much more effective it can be to work with the body than to stay only with the story, telling and retelling it to ourselves, hoping to come to some different ending.

This is not to say that talking is useless. If we are really paying attention, saying the words out loud or writing them down can make us aware of what we are thinking so that we can question our assumptions and see the holes in our reasoning. But chances are we are thinking this same story over and over again without paying attention, and every time we tell it, the body re-lives the experience and tightens up. This is toxic for our health and well-being. Working directly with the body starts a healing that releases us from the story that has us enthralled. So consider incorporating this exercise into your daily life, especially when you feel overwhelmed.

It is so easy to feel overwhelmed, isn't it? The to-do list, the demands from others, the hectic nature of rushing about to take care of business. Even when our time is our own and no one else is dependent on us, we can get caught up in such a flurry of activity that we feel overwhelmed. We wonder why on earth we do that to ourselves.

We can get into the habit of wishing this moment away in favor of one that seems potentially more easeful conducive to joy. But when we are caught up in that pattern of thinking, we discover when we arrive at that future moment, we are still wishing for more or wishing for different, wishing this new moment away, just like the last.

We are creatures of habit. We create patterns. Some of the patterns we create cause us to suffer, such as this longing for something different than what is, the ‘if only’ pattern, as in ‘If only this situation were resolved I could relax and enjoy life.’

Sound familiar? If so, notice if you fall into another very human pattern of thinking that this pattern you've noticed is one more flaw in your make-up, one more thing to work on, one more chore on your to-do list. Aagh!

Let’s remember that because we are creatures of habit who create patterns, we can create patterns of ease and joy too. The regular practice of meditation and other ways that we nurture ourselves are just such joyful patterns. The beauty of this particular pattern is the way it has of revealing and releasing many of the patterns that cause our suffering.

That’s why we take time to sit in stillness, the way we might sit at the edge of a pond. Within seconds we are seeing things we hadn't noticed were there: a water skate, reflections, a perfect web spun in the branch overhead, the sound of birds, the feel of the air on our skin. Just so in meditation we simply sit and notice, and in the stillness of our intention to be present, the mental patterns reveal themselves. We might see the very leap our mind makes based on erroneous previously-unquestioned assumptions.

We reset the intention to be present, relaxed but alert, anchored in physical sensation, and we set the intention to be compassionate with ourselves and with others. If we get caught up in thinking about a situation or a person, when we realize we are thinking, we simply send loving-kindness to the situation, to the person and to ourselves, and bring our attention back to the breath, or the light on our eyelids, or the sounds in the room, or the feel of the earth under our feet if we are walking. This is the practice.

This simple gift of a practice enables us to hold whatever arises in our experience in a more spacious way so we are not sucked into the inner storm. The storm is more of a little tempest in a teapot that we find curious, interesting, perhaps amusing, and instructive. We are able to be mindful, to see how we, being human, create many of these tornados through the very patterns of mind that we hope will save us.

Instead of walking a tightrope trying to balance too many plates, we can sense the support of the earth and our interconnection to all life, that we are not alone. The weight of the world is not our singular burden to carry.

No matter what life is throwing at you, you have a standing invitation to pause, to sit, to walk in nature, to give yourself the gift of attention and compassion. This is the great gift of equanimity.

You have the answer!

Always we hope

someone else has the answer,

some other place will be better,

some other time

it will turn out.

This is it.

No one else has the answer,

no other place will be better,

and it has already turned out.

At the center of your being,

you have the answer:

you know who you are and

you know what you want.

There is no need to run outside

for better seeing,

nor to peer from a window.

Rather abide at the center of your being:

for the more you leave it,

the less you learn.

Search your heart and see

the way to do is to be.

— Lao Tzu

This poem was read by Mark Coleman at the end of the first sit of the third morning of the Mindfulness Facilitators retreat I recently attended at Spirit Rock Meditation Center. The poem filled me with such a shiver of delight. It’s true! It’s true! No one has my answers! Yet I am chasing here and there looking for permission and approval, looking for the green light, instead of trusting my own inner wisdom.

And yes, how often have I thought a change of location might be a solution to some perceived problem, as if it is this place and not the patterns of my thinking mind that are causing my current my unhappiness.

And wanting to get past this difficult time into some other future time when it will ‘all turn out.’ Oh yes, I’ve been there. I have lived whole portions of my life, especially my younger years, almost completely in the future, daydreaming about when things will all work out.

I’m guessing by the request of co-retreatants for Mark to please please please post this quote, that it touched them too, and is a common human experience, this reaching out for answers from other people, other places and other times.

So I share this quote with you in case it also speaks to you, addressing some deep-seated yearning you may or may not have noticed before.

The poem takes us back again and again to this moment, this one and only moment, this point of reality where all the power resides. We see how the practice of meditation strengthens our ability to be present, to live fully right now. We can notice how we want things to be different, but we are less likely to be deluded to believe that someone else has our answer, somewhere else is the solution, some other time things will be better than they are right here right now.

We carry our patterns with us. If we have a pattern of discounting our own ability to access wisdom through quieting down, centering in and opening up to the infinite clarity of being, then we will always feel the need for others' confirmation before we trust what we know.

If we have a pattern of believing that another location will miraculously resolve all that is restless and disgruntled within us, then we will always be daydreaming about other houses in other cities, other jobs, other partners -- and we will never deepen our connections right where we are. We won’t plant our garden and then we’ll tell ourselves how ugly it is.

If we have a pattern of believing that someday we will be happy, then we won’t bother to notice the joy possible in this very moment, if only we would open our senses to it.

This poem truly captures the heart of what we learn from meditation practice. And when it was read at 7 AM in the meditation hall at Spirit Rock after 45 minutes of sitting, it was like a rock dropping into a still pond, creating a huge impact and lots of ripples within me. Ah!

Walking through a dark valley

When I’m going through a difficult time, I try to remember to pause and notice what’s going on in my body. What sensations are present that aren't usually here?

For example, have you ever felt an achy heaviness in the chest area? That can be a physical manifestation of loss. Next time you feel that sensation, you might pause to consider what’s going on in your life. Where might you be feeling loss?

If we can notice a physical sensation, we can hold it with tenderness. We can be the kind friend to ourselves that we try to be for others. We can be present to experience this sensation, and to be compassionate with it. This is much more powerful than trying to talk ourselves out of it.

I grew up back when 'emotional intelligence' was not even coined as a term. My mother was a great and loving woman. I was very lucky. But even so, if I said, ‘Mom, I’m feeling sad,’ she would get very uncomfortable and tell me that I had nothing to complain about. It’s not her fault. If she were a young mother today, chances are she would know that telling someone they shouldn't feel what they feel is not very useful.

Has anyone ever told you to stuff down your feelings or trade them in for a shinier happy version that would make everyone feel more comfortable? And if so, have you found that their voices are still in your head, still telling you it’s not okay to feel what you feel?

Most of us have stuffed-down sadness that we didn't let ourselves feel at the time it occurred. It is still there, compressed under layers and layers of judgment. When we notice it, we rush to put on a smiley-faced band-aid and hope nobody notices.

Noticing is what our mindfulness practice is all about. We notice physical sensation first and foremost. It anchors us in the present moment which is the only one that exists. The past and future are just thoughts. We can’t change the past, though we can change how we relate to it, and any power we have over the future is contained in this present moment.

But are we willing to be present when we’re going through something difficult?

Most of us want to rush past this experience and get to a pleasant one. Maybe we’re embarrassed to be down and that adds to our discomfort. So we’re racing toward some brighter future, but we are dragging all these weighty anchors from the past. Our anger and judgments are rooted there. We’re not operating from here and now but from where we once were because we weren't sufficiently there to notice what was going on at the time and to give ourselves the simple gift of being there. It's complicated!

You can see how this gets us into trouble.

In Psalms 23.4 the Bible says 'Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.’ This is identifying a human experience we all share at times. We find ourselves walking through a dark valley. We don’t have the vantage of the mountain top to see the lay of the land, so we don’t know where this valley leads. Maybe we get anxious and want very much to get past this narrowing in the inner landscape. We’re spending all our time looking for a way out.

But the valley is actually a very fertile place, and there is great value in simply being here where we are. In fact, the valley is so fertile that whatever it is we seed there will grow up before our eyes. If we are afraid of what we’ll find in the darkness, we seed fear. From the seeds of fear grow all manner of demon-like thoughts and emotions, like associated memories from youth that have lain dormant these many years that now rise up to taunt us. Loser! Loner! Unacceptable! Different! Pathetic!

But even in this dark narrow valley we are never alone. We are each of us an intrinsic part of the grand scheme of things, a natural expression of the life force. If we can sense into physical sensation we can remember this connection and the fear will soften. We can seed that same valley with love and compassion that in turn nourishes us. We are then able to follow our natural course at an easeful pace. We cease to struggle to get a mountain top vantage point but accept that we just don’t know. And that’s okay.

We expect to be in dark valleys when we have experienced a loss of any kind. We don’t expect to wake up one day and for no particular reason find we’re in a valley. But it happens, doesn't it?

Sometimes when we do what feels like the next right thing in the natural flow of our lives, we come to a bend in the river and the shadows of the canyon walls make everything go dark. At this point we have no idea what to do. We thought we had a clear course, yet here we are in the valley of darkness! How did this happen?

As an example, I have recently embarked on a journey, having made a decision to publish some of my writing in book form, and I find myself at times in the valley. I recognize it. I have been here before. It is the place where all the taunts of my youth come up to haunt me.

I think how foolish I must have appeared when, as a new kid in school, I ran for an office because no one else was running and I thought it would be a good way to meet people. That would have probably worked out okay except that at the last minute the most popular girl in the class decided to run as well, and it was too late for me to withdraw. How awkward I felt making campaign promises standing in front of the whole student body in the expensive Pendleton plaid wool pleated skirt my mother had splurged on so I would feel confident for the occasion.

It was of course no surprise that I didn't win, but here’s the painful part for me to remember: I stayed after school to wait for the voting results. Now why did I do that? Did I think I had a chance? That delusional hopefulness worries me.It makes me wonder if am I just as delusional now.

Of course in my mother’s view the worst thing about it was that I never wore that Pendleton skirt again. It was jinxed and had bad memories. I wanted to forget the whole experience. But clearly I haven't, have I?

When you find yourself in a dark valley for seemingly no reason, notice what ancient taunts rise up to pull you down. What are the parallels to your current situation?

We all have these echoes within us, these events in our lives that reactivate fear when any potentially parallel situation arises. So where’s the parallel for me? In publishing these days it is supremely important to have a preexisting ‘author platform’ -- an audience of people already interested in what the author has to say. Back in high school as the new kid in town I was completely lacking in any 'platform' at all, especially compared to that very popular girl. That's a seemingly direct parallel. Except, as my meditation students point out, I have them, my blog readers, readers of my last book, as well as a wide circle of friends. I'm not the new kid at school. But the fear is there. 

So here I am in this dark valley at some moments when self-doubt creeps in. Just last week I was up on the proverbial mountain, leaping from peak to peak, feeling so supported by the universe. Absolutely nothing has changed from that moment to this. Students are sending me lovely expressions of praise to share with publishers. Friends say how great it is I’m doing it. Those with knowledge about publishing are particularly encouraging.

But still I find myself in the dark valley with a bunch of fourteen-year-olds from fifty years ago, who to their credit never said one mean word to me about the whole debacle. It’s all me creating this valley of darkness. And that's important to remember.

What can I do about it? What can any of us do? We stay present with this moment and notice how it feels to be here with these physical sensations, some of them painful. We notice how it feels to stay present with these thoughts and emotions that arise in our field of awareness. Some of them are painful. We don’t try to talk ourselves out of what we are feeling. We don’t try to shame ourselves into more cheerful views. We simply stay present and acknowledge that we don’t know how long we’ll be walking in this dark valley. It may disappear in the next instant. It may last awhile. We do not know, and that’s important for us to embrace as a way of relating to our experience and life in general because it’s the truth in every moment, not just this one.

So we stay present and compassionate with ourselves, planting seeds of kindness in this fertile valley. If demons rise up from the fear-seeds we've planted in the past, we are compassionate with them. We don't indulge their fears but we do acknowledge them. They are like old friends who think they are trying to protect us. We can remind ourselves that they are well-intentioned but not wise. So we appreciate their efforts but we don't follow their advice.

With compassion and awareness, we may find that this valley is verdant. Someday we may look back and see it as the source of wonderful things that followed, how we grew in ways we could never have imagined. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's be here in the valley now, noticing physical sensation and giving ourselves time to experience it with compassion.