Mindfulness isn't just for Buddhists anymore; you can find it in hospitals, schools,
prisons, and in some of today’s largest corporations. It is being used
to help people quell their cravings, find emotional balance, eat
healthier, and even to fall asleep at night.
All of these things are well and good, of course, but there's a
question worth considering: Is anything lost when we remove mindfulness
meditation from a Buddhist context?
In this interview with writer and mindfulness teacher Ed Halliwell
we explore the ins and outs of mindfulness. We discuss the definition
and benefits of mindfulness practice, whether it's the same in Buddhist
and secular contexts, and Halliwell's new book (along with co-author Dr. Jonty Heaversedge) The Mindful Manifesto.
What is mindfulness? The way we're using the word in
The Mindful Manifesto,
which is in line with what's taught in most secular mindfulness-based
courses, it means paying attention to what's happening in our bodies,
minds, and the environment in a manner that's open-hearted, aware of but
not caught up in our habitual patterns of thoughts, emotions and
behavior. It's knowing what's happening as it's happening, and learning
from that in a way that leads us to act from a place of greater skill,
choice and compassion. Having said that, I think definitions can be a
little tricky when it comes to mindfulness, as we're referring to a
quality that can only be really understood as an experience rather than a
concept.
As you note in the book, mindfulness practice has
deep roots in the Buddhist tradition. However, it is being used
increasingly in secular settings—schools, prisons, hospitals, etc. What
are the benefits of mindfulness going mainstream? The most obvious
benefit is that a lot of people who would probably not have been drawn
to practice meditation are now doing so, and many of them seem to be
finding it helpful. Most people who sign up to a mindfulness-based
stress reduction or mindfulness-based cognitive therapy course would not
have gone along to their local Buddhist center (if there is one), or if
they have, they perhaps haven't felt this was the approach for them.
Meditation practice presented as a way to well-being within a secular,
psychological, mind-body-health perspective sometimes connects for
people who might find learning in a Buddhist context too alien, too
religious, or too institutionalized for them. I think it's wonderful
that they are finding a route to practice that works for them.
I also think the scientific rigor which is being brought to studying
mindfulness-based approaches is very helpful. We now have good evidence
that mindfulness courses help people work with stress more effectively,
develop attention skills, and maintain physical and mental well-being,
as well as cultivating greater empathy and compassion.
Scientifically-minded people who might previously have dismissed
meditation as irrational, flaky or new-age are becoming convinced that
it can be usefully taught and practiced as a way to help people and
communities become happier and healthier. Science is a main mode of
validation in our culture, and a result of all this research is that
areas such as healthcare, education, and workplaces are now opening up
to meditation as something worth exploring.
I think the science is good for understanding what's happening when
we meditate, too. We are starting to know more about what's going on in
the brain and body when we practice, and what the studies suggest seems
to correlate with what meditators have reported for thousands of years,
which perhaps helps build confidence in the value of meditation. Knowing
what we're doing in this way may also help us cultivate precision in
what and how we practice. In these ways, the scientific mode of inquiry
is an excellent complement to the first person mode of inquiry that we
engage in when we actually meditate.
Are there any possible cons?
Yes, I think there’s the potential for mindfulness to become diluted
and separated from other key aspects of a contemplative path—such as
ethics, the understanding of impermanence or emptiness, loving-kindness
or other aspects of wisdom traditionally cultivated as part of, say, a
Buddhist training. As more and more people start to practice and teach
mindfulness who perhaps don't have any background in Buddhism or another
meditative tradition, there's a risk that we lose some of the depth and
insight that has been cultivated and passed down through the
generations, and this could become just another self-help movement,
aimed at personal betterment, rather than a deep letting go of self,
which is actually what really produces such a change in our experience
of well-being.
As mindfulness is increasingly presented in a western
framework—science, psychology, meeting healthcare targets, business
goals and so on—if we're not careful we could begin to lose the radical
essence of what's actually being taught, and turn it into a patching up
of our egos, a watered down, even perverted version of what meditation
training traditionally leads us towards. I think a certain amount of
this is inevitable (indeed, don't most of us end up falling into this
trap with our practice?), but as mindfulness moves into the mainstream,
will there be enough people willing and able to notice that it's
happening, and draw attention to it?
Having said that, my sense is that most of the people who are
pioneering this movement are deeply concerned to maintain the integrity
of what's being offered, shepherding its direction without also falling
into the trap of trying tightly to control it. It may sound like what's
being offered is a one-fold path, but actually the other seven spokes of
the wheel are implicit, if not explicit, in a good mindfulness course,
and participants also start to discover and be drawn to them for
themselves, as they connect with their own mindfulness, their own
wisdom. People report becoming kinder, more ethical, more skillful in
their words and behavior as they start to see things more clearly. I
also think that the truth is ego-proof: as soon as we stop practicing
the essence of the dharma, we won't be able to access its power, and all
these remarkable effects people report from going on a mindfulness
course will stop happening in the same way. So there's a kind of
in-built protection. The challenge, and it's an interesting and exciting
one, is to be able to find the skillful means to share the wonders and
difficulties of mindfulness and a contemplative path with people in a
way they can relate to, without watering it down or bastardizing it,
accommodating it to our cultural neuroses.
You say that one
reason that mindfulness has gone mainstream is because of science. We're
finding out that there are measurable benefits to practicing. But let's
say that tomorrow all the science was proven false—that scientists said
"actually we don't know what mindfulness mediation does to
practitioners." Unlikely as that is, if it happened, would you still
practice? Well, I started practicing meditation before I knew about
any of the science, and I'm pretty sure I'd still be meditating if there
was no science now, because my own experience has been so powerful. I
can see, feel, taste and touch the benefits of practice on my mind,
body, and relationships with others and the world. So, for me, the
scientific evidence for meditation is a useful confirmation of that
first-person experience—it suggests my mind isn't deceiving me. But if
scientists said 'we don't know what's happening when you meditate'
(which, incidentally, is still very largely the case in many aspects!),
then yes, I'd still practice. Science is an observer at the material
level, and it's a really important part of the story, but my own
experience of meditation is much richer and deeper than just the
quieting down of my amygdala, or some other scientifically observed
process.
However, if there was lots of science which suggested meditation was
generally harmful or ineffectual, then that would give me an interesting
pause for reflection. I would be puzzled, because it would be so
contrary to my experience, and I think I would be prompted to ask some
questions about both the science and my experience, to see if it was
possible to understand this discrepancy. So far, what is being observed
scientifically with meditation seems very much in line what most people
report when they practice.
For some people, the science can lead them into a practice when they
might otherwise have been skeptical, say, of first person reports like
mine. Even so, I still suspect that once people engage with meditation,
it's the experience of something shifting, or unfolding in themselves
that really convinces that this is worthwhile, rather than the promise
of a smaller amygdala, or even reduced stress. Indeed, focus on a future
goal like that can really get in the way of meditation practice...
What
is the difference between mindfulness as it's used in secular
mindfulness-based courses and as it's used in a Buddhist context?
