meditation

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

Doing Or Watching Myself Do?

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One of the weird things about meditation is what you learn about yourself – like it or not. I have sometimes said that whatever other values meditation has, the things along the way are beneficial. A lot of it comes from understanding your own habits, obsessions, and mistakes.

In this case, I’d like to talk about learning the difference between doing and watching.

My meditative practice, as noted often, is informed by The Secret of the Golden Flower (Cleary Translation) among other readings. I tune my breath to be slow and even as I watch it, refining my breath and my awareness as I go. I sometimes call it the Triple Action as following, slowing, and evening is all one.

Without going into the benefits and experiences – as I and others note discussing goals often distracts from the act – it’s fascinating to see what happens when I get off track. If you’re not a meditatior and wonder “how can you get off track by just breathing evenly and slowly” then my advice is “try to do it consistently for five minutes.”

So anyway there I am meditating and tuning my breath, feeling strangely distracted and distant, and of course I continue to meditate since that continuity is part of the point. I continued and still felt like something wasn’t quite right, that I couldn’t quite focus. Then suddenly I become aware of what’s happening.

I’m not just there following my ever-refining breath, I’m watching myself do it. I’m following the watching of myself. It’s like doing something by looking in a mirror – just a lot of what we do is looking at reflections of ourselves in our own mind, our own self-image. I was so intent on the mirror I kept losing focus on the thing I wanted to pay attention to – my breath.

Now I kept up with my practice – insights can be distractions – but that stuck with me when I was done. Sometimes you’re not watching something, you’re watching watching. Sometimes you’re not thinking, you’re thinking about yourself thinking. The human mind can get into some pretty wild infinite recursion, which is immediately obvious as soon as you remember your last neurotic obsession.

This was a reminder of how we can make simple things very complex, how we over-think, over-monitor, and end up abstract from our lives. It’s pretty amazing what following your tuned breath can reveal to you.

But don’t let such realizations distract you.

  • Xenofact

An Old Fear of Meditation

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Way back in my youthful days, when I became interested in religion, I was actually adverse to meditation. I want to explore this because it’s got some useful insights.

What annoyed me was that meditation seemed to be about controlling your mind. In my youthful misinterpretations, it seemed that you strove mightily to keep thoughts out of your mind. It sounded like a way to sit cross-legged calmly and get anxiety. I was a teenager, I had enough anxiety due to biochemistry.

It was only much later that I realized that meditation was more about doing something that then had certain insights/benefits or “just do it and trust me.” I wonder how my life may have been different if I had understood this difference earlier. Certainly it’d have expanded my interest in Buddhism (which I most associated with control) and meditation in general.

(Ironically I thought Taoism was cool, and despite some scholars in the 80s dissing the mystic aspects, I found those kept intriguing me.)

On reflection, I see a few lessons here.

First, my “fear of endless control” arose from people talking about what meditation should result in. The focus on the goal is anxiety-producing as we are not trying to meditate, but we are trying to “get somewhere” – and as I’ve expounded on, meditation needs doing and all else takes care of itself. I wonder how many scholars and theologians and historians accidentally turned people off to meditation or accidentally set people on a path to self-flagellation.

Secondly, it makes me realize how, as kids, there’s really little useful education on theology, culture, and spirituality. Yes, a lot of this is because all we get is religious indoctrination and marketed bullshit, but a person can hope for something more. Having a good, open, sympathetic understanding of such things would be a great benefit, though I’m not holding my breath.

Third, it makes me realize how important it is for us to be able to discuss spiritual and meditative practices with each other. It’s difficult enough as is, and when even talented authors mess it up the rest of us have a steeper hill to climb. It’s an actual skillset we could cultivate, and maybe share around.

So that’s it. Just a personal experience and something I learned. There’s always lessons in our past.

–Xenofact