Practicing with Emotions in Meditation

We often expect that meditation practice will make our lives better, more comfortable, or easier. Practitioners and teachers through the centuries have discovered that this is not so. American Zen teacher Charlotte Joko Beck warns us that, “One of the illusions we may have about our practice is that practice will make things more comfortable, clearer, easier, more peaceful, and so on. Nothing could be further from the truth.”[1] As we practice meditation, we raise the possibility that we may encounter difficult emotions. For virtually all human beings who practice meditation, emotions arise as part of the path. And because of this, any meditator will meet with the challenges they pose. The challenges of emotion may arise while we are on the cushion or they may arise in post-meditation experience as we go about the activities of our day. In this way emotions are a pivotal part of the path. In undertaking that path we practice with emotion as we practice with any obstacle to our meditation and we do so on-and-off the cushion. Practicing obstacles to shamatha, (calm abiding meditation) is practice. Practicing obstacles to meditation is meditation. And the moment in which we practice an obstacle to shamatha is wisdom, is insight. The moment in which we practice our emotions is wisdom, is insight. In that moment we glimpse something about the nature of our experience, of its reality as emptiness and selflessness.

Different purposes, and different results come from practicing with emotions. The first purpose is just to be able to work with them, to feel them, notice when they arise, and make any kind of contact with them. In making contact with emotion, we begin to have some agency. Emotions and obstacles often do us the most harm when we run away from them, or when have not even noticed their presence or control over us. Joko Beck points out that, “In the heat of anger it's impossible for most of us to practice as the drama occurs. But do try to step back…then when you're alone, just sit and observe.”[2] We are sometimes incapable of noticing our emotions in the moment in which they arise, and so we practice diligently in easier circumstances in order to cultivate the capacity for greater attention and skillfulness in times of challenge. Thus, by directing our attention towards emotion, we develop capacity to notice and experience emotion.

When experiencing emotions directly, we are learning about their impermanence, their emptiness—or boundlessness as Kaz Tanahashi translates the Sanskirt śunyatā—and their luminosity and natural radiance—or basic aliveness as John Welwood speaks of it. I often encourage a person to “let go, and return to the sensation of the breath.” Implicit in this is the insight that the emotion or obstacle is perfect as it is, and utterly non-binding. In this sense, the experience is workable, and is an opportunity to experience our natural wakefulness. However, in the midst of a struggle we cannot always see the situation as workable, and as natural wakefulness. Rather, we need skillful means; we need to do something to change the circumstances or gain some distance from that which we see as harmful, or perhaps approach it in a different way.

Skillful Means in Working with Emotion

There are many skillful means to help us in encountering our emotions and obstacles. Zenju Earthlyn Manuel teaches one such method called radical acceptance. She demonstrates a first moment of radical acceptance and compassion, through curiosity, by asking how such a thing is possible? Zenju asks, “How does someone who has experienced deep hatred, from within as well as without, become Zenju, [which is her dharma name, and means] complete tenderness—a liberated tenderness that is not a wound but complete liberation from the rage that hatred breeds?”[3] To sincerely ask this question, is already to trust that complete tenderness is possible in the midst of hatred and emotional turmoil. In this way, complete tenderness, and any investigation of experience begins with curiosity, with a thought that our experience does not have to cause us to suffer. In this moment, one is glimpsing from the experience of the relative, that the absolute is there too. Zenju speaks of encountering this tenderness on retreat when she speaks of giving up any sense of letting go, of any aspiration to get rid of our difficult emotions, or of any idea of attaining liberation.[4] For Zenju, radical acceptance arose from this place, which is tenderness, and the power of presence.[5] Similar to radical acceptance, Lama Rod Owens teaches that, “The most profound practice I have ever been taught by my teachers is simply letting my shit fall apart.”[6] Radical acceptance allows us to be with what is, right now, (even when shitty), and be with it without judgment, without an idea of changing it, or getting rid of it. Paradoxically, it is in just such moments that our experience transforms.

Yet we cannot always start with radical acceptance, we may need to approach our difficult emotions cautiously. In A Path With Heart, Jack Kornfield asks a series of helpful questions to look into an experience. I have paraphrased a series of them. Kornfield asks,

How long does this experience last? Does it intensify first or just fade away? How does it feel the body? What parts of the body are affected by it, the gut, the breath, the eyes? What does it feel like in the heart, in the mind? When it is present are you happy or agitated, open or closed? As you name it, see how it moves and changes. Where do you notice the sensation?[7]

I encourage meditators to use any and all of these questions. I would specifically ask: Where do you notice the sensation? When do you notice it? How long does it last? Is the intensity static? Does it shift? Or Pulse? How does it feel in the body? How does it feel now, as few moments later? Is it the same? What do you notice? A key factor in these questions is locating the experience somatically, in the body, and that the experience is not permanent.

In noticing emotions, we try to investigate them, learn something about how they feel, and how they show up in our body. Locating sensations in the body helps to dismantle sensations that feel concrete, or pervasive. Additionally, it is often divorcing from bodily sensation that intensifies pain from emotions. This is particularly the case in Lama Rod Owens’ understanding of trauma. He says that, “Trauma is the creation of the context that does not privilege my deepest desire to return home and inhabit my own agency and body, but instead triggers disembodiment and a loss of awareness of the body and its experiences.”[8] In this way, bringing attention to bodily sensation can be a natural part of healing from trauma and difficult emotions.

Jack Kornfield also teaches the previously asked questions within a practice called “Meditation on Making the Demons Part of the Path,” a practice which I have found helpful. In this practice, Kornfield instructs to “choose the most frequent and difficult” of experiences that arise. In my experience of this, I notice that when I feel entrapped by an obstacle or emotion, I feel a kind of superficiality, and sensations around my head and skull. When I let go, or when I am experiencing more somatically, I notice me legs, my torso, my body; I feel a sense of grounded-ness. I feel body sensation, and it feel more vivid and relaxed. When I label an obstacle, it feels almost like bursting a bubble, as if merely identifying it, bursts its seeming substantiality.

Having labeled the obstacle, and having noticed it “burst,” I then notice disappointment. I experience it as if I’m disappointed that the obstacle immediately began to shift, to have less power. I find myself wishing it would persist, thinking that if its power was so easily disrupted, how was I so seduced by it? In experiencing the weakness of my obstacles, I feel a bit stupid, as if I should have known! This reminds me of the pain of being wrong, which I suspect plays a significant role in how I, and many, hold to views that cause us harm. To let them go is to see that I have been wrong. Joko Beck observes this as well, she teaches that, “When we're angry there's a huge block that stands in the way of practice: the fact that we don't want to practice—we prefer to cherish our pride, to be ‘right.’”[9] Wanting to be right, is not wanting to practice. If I am practicing and practicing well, I will then experience “being wrong”, because any idea of my experience is not the experience itself. Such moments are at times are relief, or even make me laugh! This also is an important time to remember to be gentle with oneself. Humility in seeing one’s own wrong view is important, but we must also show ourselves care, friendship, and compassion—the same compassion we extend to loved ones when they experience pain.

Sometimes instructions are too wordy, and obfuscate practice’s simplicity. This was my experience in working with a different series of Kornfield’s exercises: “Expand the Field of Attention,” “A Full awareness of Feelings,” and “Discover What is Asking for Acceptance.” The crux of these is that our obstacles, emotional or otherwise, arise as a sensation in one of four “realms,” the body, mind, feelings, and basic-attitude.[10] Kornfield’s wisdom is that when we experience something as an obstacle or problem, we tend to notice it in only one of the four realms, that is, only in the body, mind, feeling, or attitude. Kornfield suggests that we turn our attention to another of the realms that we have not noticed. For myself, when I am caught in mind, I really need to turn my attention to the body, towards the physical, tactile sensations of the body sitting on a physical surface. When I am caught in a numb sense of the body, I appreciate turning my attention to feelings. I look for what emotions are present, perhaps just beneath the surface of my awareness. I find that this helps because often bodily numbness arises from retreating from feelings, just as Rod Owens observes in trauma, where one divorces from bodily sensation.

Turning the mind’s attention toward a different realm, as Kornfield speaks of it, helps to cultivate the other two exercises, “Full awareness of Feelings” and “Discover What is Asking For Acceptance.” Both of these exercises investigate experience. In taking them up, I notice that I am excluding some part of experience, and turning to a different realm helps to discover what I am excluding, and bring it forth into my experience. I can then learn about that experience, notice how it shows up in my body, what thoughts are associated with it, and develop some skillfulness in allowing that experience to come forth and being able to work with it.

Amidst all these methods of getting closer to experience, we also at times need to retreat, to create some space or distance. If until now, I have primarily discussed methods of “touch,” ways of approaching difficult emotion or obstacles, know that at times we must instead “go.” That is to say, we need to create some space or distance. Within our sitting practice, this can be turning our attention toward any sensation, or realm of sensation that feels safe, that feels non-threatening. I encourage practitioners to discern for themselves what their safe sensation is, because it may be different for everyone. “Go” is as important as all the forms of “touch” because without “go,” we may be merely grasping at our experience. (And know that we can hold onto even unpleasant experience!) We need to be able to let go of it, as well as approach it. What sensation feel safe? Is there a bodily sensation to which you can turn your attention? Can you there experience stability, vividness, and wakefulness? Notice where you experience that sensation and give that your attention. When you notice an easing of tension or anxiety, try bringing your attention back that that which was difficult, or tender. Touch it gently with your awareness, and then Go.

Sometimes we need to “go” in our daily lives as well. Two meditation instructors describe this as, “If you feel completely overwhelmed, try distraction.”[11] The distraction here can by any activity that fills experience. For me, this is often washing dishes in the kitchen, or playing my flute. The activity feels safe, and it allows my to turn my attention to it fully. Thus, while often we want to investigate, and get closer to our experience, so too must we let go of it and create some space.

Approaching our difficult emotions and obstacles, and letting them go affords us a rich opportunity to encounter our lives. We have a variety of means to help us work with our emotions and obstacles, and even means to create space from them. When do you need space and skillful means? When can you get closer to an experience and have curiosity about it? I can ask you these questions, however they are best answered through practice. Meditation presents a fortuitous circumstance in which to notice and work with emotion. In learning to practice with them, we take steps in making friends with ourselves, in being gentle, and authentic, and these moments provide a rich opportunity to vividly encounter our lives.

[1] Charlotte Joko Beck, “Opening Pandora’s Box” in Everyday Zen, (New York: HarperCollins, 1989) 53. [2] Ibid., 50 [3] Zenju Earthlyn Manuel, “Tracking the Footprints of Invisible Monsters” in Way of Tenderness: Awakening Though race, Sexuality, and Gender, (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 2015) 17. [4] Ibid., 19. [5] Ibid., 20. [6] Reverend angel Kyodo williams and Lama Rod Owens, “Remembering Love: An Informal Contemplation on Healing” in Radical Dharma: Talking Race, Love, and Liberation, (Berkeley: North Atlantic Books, 2016) 69. [7] Jack Kornfield, “Promises and Perils” in A Path With Heart: A Guide Through the Perils and Promises of Spiritual Life, (New York: Bantam Books, 1993) 86. [8] williams and Owens, 61. [9] Beck, 50. [10] Kornfield, 105. [11] Amy Schmidt and John J. Miller, “Healing Trauma With Meditation” Tricycle, Fall 2004.