Meditation

A Chain of Tensions

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I do two forms of meditation – breathing and energy work. My breath meditation is refining a slow, even breath that I follow. My energy work (a form of Microcosmic Orbit) is harder to describe, but is is basically about “settling into” paths in my body and feeling and raising the “energy” within. What’s interesting is both forms of meditation lead to the same conclusion:

We are often amazingly tense.

Any form of meditation makes you more aware, and you’ll quickly become aware of how tense you are. It may not be painful or limiting tension (though it may be), but that odd tension, that bit of push-pull. It may not even by physical, but a few senses of odd division in your head and thoughts. Sometimes – many times – the mental and physical seem to be linked or the same thing.

It can be depressing or distracting depending on your experience and personality. Sitting down and meditating is like being locked in a straightjacket, and it’s a straightjacket that you always wear, but you only know about it during spiritual pursuits.

As you meditate and become aware of them – or in some forms of energy work “feel through them” – another thing comes to mind. A lot of what we think of as us is tension. Seriously, so much of what we think of as us is a pile of conflicts and walling ourselves off from the world and other parts of ourselves.

Our bodies and mind tense up as we are embarrassed. We seal off thoughts we don’t want to have, and enter into an eternal battle that defines who we are. Our fears of a situation tense our bodies up, ready to pounce, and that tension becomes a point of identity. We force ourselves to be certain people and do certain things, pitting tension against tension.

We’re a giant interlinked pile of tensions. The experience of this can be both enthralling and depressing when you get into meditation.

One one level it’s amazing and liberating to experience this. You suddenly see how much of you is just a bunch of conflicting stuff, a Rube Goldberg chain of neuroses and tense muscles. It’s no wonder some people have such insights in meditation and go wild about it – it’s liberating and overwhelming. I’ve had energy meditation sessions where the tensions drop away, and it’s like a thunderbolt shaking your body – it’s easy to take it so seriously you ruin it.

On another side, it’s kind of depressing. The “you” you’re used to is a janky collection of sensations and ideas and a lot of them are tensions. You’re you is always building giant walls to keep things out – building tensions (see my previous writing on “The Escape Capsule”). Your “you’ can seem awful lame when you see how much of it is self-limiting or avoidant. Nothing like looking at yourself and going “well that’s some stupid shit I’ve done for 30 years” and sitting with it.

It’s liberating and depressing to see the role of tension in our lives at the same time.

Me, I try to remember it’s just the way it is, and remember the Taoist references to refining our breath or refining our energies. I am what I am, my tensions are what I are. By my ever-tuned breath,I am refining myself like metal or purifying water. Discovering these tensions are milestones – signs I am doing something right, so I keep doing it.

But, honestly, sometimes I’m just amazed how much of “us” is just some form of tension or separation. I think that’s why we’re often envious of people with wild creativity or who are just chill – because so many of us are not that way.

-Xenofact

The Escape Capsule

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When I meditate (regular breath and energy circulation) sometimes I notice a peculiar thing. Namely, I notice myself – and why I’m there.

Somewhere in what I’m doing there’s a bit of me there, pulling away and sealing itself off. It’s peculiar because I’m both meditating but also trying to separate myself from meditating. On top of that I’m aware of me doing it, so I’m watching myself watching myself try to separate myself from what I’m doing.

No wonder some people find meditation hard, disturbing, or weird. Or they drop a few shrooms and wonder what the hell is going on. Self and ego is strange no matter what’s forcing you to confront it, but meditation is cheaper.

I’ve recently christened this thing The Escape Capsule (though, yes, I’ve seen other terms and references to it), and have been thinking about what it tells me.

Part of our identity is based on separation. There’s us and the other stuff in the world and the other stuff inside ourselves. We try to separate from the world and we try to separate the “real me” from the stuff we don’t like in ourselves. Some of our “me” is an attempt to not be things, to get away – thus I recently called it The Escape Capsie.

(I could go into I and Thou but perhaps later.)

The Escape Capsule is that idea we can wall ourselves off, and I think there’s a wiff of simplistic immortalism. We can cut ourselves off from everything else and get away from it forever. In fact, I think that sometimes our idea of an immortal, separate soul may well come from this human tendency to run away..

I mean if we can feel distant from everything doesn’t that mean there’s some separate us?

Of course as we all know identity and self isn’t that clear. We can’t wall ourselves off from parts of us as it’s all us. Whatever identity we imagine atop the rickety pyramid of self, the pyramid is a lot larger than what we pretend we are. Too often our fears, desires, memories, and reality intrude and the Escape Capsule doesn’t protect us.

Of course we know it doesn’t protect us from the world. The world is bigger. The world is where “me” comes from.

Seeing The Escape Capsule helps me understand myself and my flaws. I also am sure you, if you meditate, have also had moments where the walls of The Escape Capsule melt and you realize your you isn’t you. It’s quite something to be yourself while seeing yourself melt away. It’s also quite something to realize how much of your idea of yourself is based on not being something.

This is one thing I’ve come to appreciate about meditation. The goal is to do it – not “perfectly,” not well, not to have certain experiences. But being there in those moments where you just see, even if what you see is disturbing or humbling.

And there are moments you can’t get away.

-Xenofact

Creativity and the Celestial Mind

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In my readings of Taoist mysticism, there’s an idea from some works (that dates back a bit over 1000 years by my guess) that describe the Human Mind and the Celestial Mind. The Human Mind is often described in terms of Yin, the receptive force of the universe, but a very pathological form – grasping, distracted, etc. Meanwhile the Celestial Mind, the enlightened mind, is described as Yang, the creative force, but concealed by the Human Mind. The creative power and the receptive form-giver are out of wack.

I found this concept helped appreciate my artistic creativity and it’s helped me in my meditations. In fact, I plan to write on this more.

The metaphor of the Human versus Celestial Mind is a helpful metaphor understand meditation. Our human mind, pursuing various activities like breathing, clarifies and calms itself, so something else emerges – the Celestial Mind. We’ve probably all been there – a state of clarify, powerful, subtle, and of course something we keep getting back to again and again as we keep getting away fro it.

With this metaphor of this Celestial Mind, this clear and calm yet somehow powerful and creative force, I began noticing something about my creativity.

When I was really creative, such as with my surrealist art, there was something about it. It was emergent, it wasn’t exactly part of my “everyday mind.” After a good art session I felt different, in touch with something, though it was almost like there was a hole in my regular self that something else poured through. It felt similar to what happened in meditations, those moments where you’re gone but something is there.

I also noticed similar experiences with energy work. Meditating on bodily energies (wether you consider them more metaphor like me or not) leads to a kind of clarity and a sense of something deeper within us. When you’re aware of your body, you’re aware of all the STUFF going on. This was also similar to that sense of creativity, of touching something greater.

Using the above metaphor of Human and Celestial Mind, of a pathological form of Yin and a concealed Yang, I appreciated the meditative element of creativity. When you really get going something shifts, the everyday you fades away and something else comes out. The “you” experienced in meditation and the creative you are similar if not the same thing.

I even began noticing how taking time to work on creativity seemed to correspond with better experiences in meditation. The way to the Celestial Mind was primed by both.

I hope to keep exploring this idea, as I find it in a few Taoist Documents, and I think it’s useful. I also now see how Creativity really can be a kind of meditation, and how it enhances our experiences. That Celestial Mind is there, and that’s one way to be in touch with it.

  • Xenofact