Teaching Mindfulness

“For mindfulness is not just one more method or technique, akin to other familiar techniques and strategies we may find instrumental and effective in one field or another. It is a way of being, of seeing, of tapping into the full dimension of our humanity, and this way has a critical non-instrumental essence inherent in it.” —Jon Kabat-Zinn in the Foreword to Teaching Mindfulness.

Teaching Mindfulness is authored by Marc S. Micozzi, Donald McCown, and Diane C. Reibel. It is both a theoretical and a practical book, but what does that mean?

Back in 1972, the French philosopher Gilles Deleuze had a conversation with Michel Foucault, in which they discussed the importance of theory and practice (see Foucault’s Language, Counter-Memory, Practice: Selected Essays and Interviews). Deleuze said, “From the moment a theory moves into its proper domain, it begins to encounter obstacles, walls, and blockages which require its relay by another type of discourse (it is through this other discourse that it eventually passes to a different domain). Practice is a set of relays from one theoretical point to another, and theory is a relay from one practice to another. No theory can develop without eventually encountering a wall, and practice is necessary for piercing this wall.”

What is the proper domain of mindfulness?

The authors don’t mention this explicitly, but the proper domain is life. Mindfulness can help you bring your attention to life, that is, your relationship with life. If we step back, then mindfulness is a fundamental practice of Buddhism. Buddhism presents us with a theory of how to overcome pain and, perhaps, reach enlightenment (e.g., the Four Noble Truths and the Eight-fold Path). However, this theory may encounter an obstacle in its Western context because of its religious undertones. However, mindfulness is also—in its Western practice—a set of relays from psychology, cognitive science, neuroscience, and philosophy. The beauty of mindfulness is that it is more flexible than Buddhism, although it acknowledges the lineage and teachers within this very diverse tradition. Still, I refer to Deleuze because he can help us see that practice— mindfulness—makes the constitution of being alive possible.

When Kabat-Zinn says that mindfulness is a way of being, in my opinion he is saying that it’s a philosophy, a way of life. This also illustrates how the theory of practice (how to practice and teach mindfulness) progresses to the level of ontology. “Mindfulness in everyday life is the ultimate challenge,” writes Kabat-Zinn.

I read Teaching Mindfulness with gusto and not just because I recently taught my first session about mindfulness to children. Rather, it takes mindfulness as a practice between Eastern and Western philosophy seriously. Most teachers practice mindfulness out of love; they have been introduced to it because of personal angst or because of their travels in the East, where they met extraordinary teachers. Today, the story is a little different. People are teaching not only out of love but consider their teaching as a profession, which, of course, can be motivated by love. This addresses several problems or challenges. Like those in many other professions (e.g., teaching, nursing, and medicine) it is often assumed that these individuals are directed by some sort of “calling.” This calling often functions as a moral motivator since one could also feel “called” to become an assassin.

So, although I see philosophy as a way of being—and not a discipline where you need to assimilate a specific curriculum to pass—I am also aware that certain background knowledge from reading and practice is needed.

Philosophy is an approach to life that can be qualified through experience, including reading and discussion. As Socrates once said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Most philosophers and mindfulness practitioners would agree, even though they may disagree on how to investigate life.

The authors of Teaching Mindfulness address pertinent questions, such as: Who becomes a teacher? What do I know? Do I know it well enough? In answering these questions, the authors offer their own experiences, which give the book a personal radiance. They also place mindfulness in a Buddhist context and explain how it gradually came to the West. “If the 1960s and 1970s were a period of foundation and growth, the 1980s and 1990s could be seen as the painful passage to maturity,” the authors write.

Being mature means being accountable for your actions. Especially when the teacher becomes something like a healer.

The authors identify four interrelated skill sets that are common among mindfulness teachers:

  1. Stewardship of the group
  2. Homiletics, or the delivery of didactic material
  3. Guidance of formal and informal group experiences
  4. Inquiry into participants’ direct experience

By using these skill sets, the authors present many interesting ideas about balancing the interdependence of the group’s freedom and resonance, the teacher’s responsibility, how to deal with aggression, and other topics. They present concrete exercises and meditation topics for each of the potential challenges: development and care for your “teacher’s voice,” connecting and maintaining curiosity with your students, etc. In this way, the book is useful for the individual teacher, for a group of teachers who can debate and develop their own style of teaching, and even for schools.

One of the book’s greatest advantages is that it illustrateteaching-mindfulnesss the full range of practices: awareness, being present, yoga, and loving-kindness. In that sense the three authors establish the beauty of mindfulness. I would like to stress this point.

Mindfulness is part of an industry that attracts many good teachers, but it also draws those who are in it only for the money. If you are interested in mindfulness (or anything else) because of the money, it negates the so-called goodness, loving-kindness, and true altruism intrinsic to these individuals and makes them hypocritical. When profit or payment enters, the world is again for only those who can afford it. The rest? Let them scramble in the dirt. What I mean when the authors show the beauty of mindfulness is that they pass on their experiences instead of capitalizing on them. Even though these textbooks are ridiculously expensive, we are grateful to the authors for explaining their practice.

Mindfulness can teach people to pay attention, and to become aware of themselves and what happens around them. This can help them see that they need to do something. For instance, I imagine living in a world where people can become who they are. Unfortunately, the persecution of gender, race, and sexuality still hinders the individual’s freedom to become. Before this can be changed, we need to pay attention to how we think and act to make equality and respect possible in the future.In other words, mindfulness can’t change the world alone but together with critical thinking, I believe, children (and others) will have a good foundation for engaging in this world.

In conclusion, I recommend this book to all who work with mindfulness, but it is also a valuable resource for teachers in general.

Finn Janning, PhD in philosophy, is a writer.

Some years ago

Some years ago, I began contacting book publishers for review copies. At that time, I didn’t have any money but a great hunger for reading books on philosophy. All I offered was a review or a mention on this blog. Many publishers were kind enough to send me copies.

While reading these books, I have gradually tried (and I am still trying) to formulate and practice an affirmative philosophy. A philosophy for everyone! This us a journey that began with my PhD-studies that I finished in 2005.

A few years ago, I decided to see if mindfulness could add anything to this philosophical approach. Loosely said, all ethics requires that we “see”—that is, that we are aware or paying attention as a way of being. Yet most philosophies don’t really nurture this skill.

Therefore, as a way to get acquitted with mindfulness (I was interested in its nonreligious approach to meditation), I participated in courses and retreats, and I am now in the last stage of finishing a master’s degree in mindfulness.

Philosophy is serious, as Kierkegaard said (for which reason he elegantly added humor and irony to pass on his thoughts). During this process, I have contacted publishers for books on mindfulness as well. And that is why I am writing this post.

One of the books I received in 2016 was Malcolm Huxter’s Healing the Heart and Mind with Mindfulness. I lost the book several months ago, probably in a park somewhere in Barcelona, since I read it during the summer. Now I feel obliged to keep my word: keeping your word is important even if no one else cares about your words. That is, I have to mention the book!

As I recall the book, it was slim and an easy read, almost an introduction to mindfulness. Yet it was not one of those that are centered on the author’s own suffering; rather, it was based on research and deep knowledge about both Buddhism and psychology. It doesn’t debate whether mindfulness lacks a real Buddhist touch but unfolds the fruitful interactions among mindfulness, psychology, and Buddhism. Most of the chapters ended with meditations, and I did some of them, mainly because they seemed honest and not something that the author felt was needed.

Healing the heart and the mind can be seen as “self-care”, not self-love (an absurd term). Self-care is a healthy investment of my participation in both the present moment as well as in the future.

Mindfulness, as many probably know, is not just about paying attention; it is also about not forgetting. The mind is not the brain; rather the mind is anchoring somewhere in the body like wrinkles and scars that are signs of a lived life.

That I recall this book, on the verge of 2017, is a sign that it is worth sharing and therefore reading.

A Companion to Buddhist Philosophy

I just reviewed A Companion to Buddhist Philosophy.

“I believe it is fair to say that both Eastern philosophy and Western philosophy begin with an experience of being lost or alienated in life. To philosophize, not just think, is a healing activity. It’s a way of getting acquainted and challenged. According to Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations, “A philosophical problem has the form: ‘I don’t know my way about.” Perhaps this feeling of being lost is why philosophy including Buddhism begins with a dialogue. It’s like asking a good friend for directions, a way of befriending the wise.”

Read the entire review here.

The Generous Ethic of Deleuze

I just published “The Generous Ethic of Deleuze“, in Philosophy Study, Vol. 6, No. 8 (2016).

Abstract: This paper argues that the affirmative philosophy of Gilles Deleuze opens for a generous ethic. Such ethic passes on new or different possibilities of life. The paper briefly outlines the basic ideas in Deleuze thinking that can be understood as generous. Then it suggests how paying attention is a prerequisite for practicing a generous ethics, that is, mainly being aware of what, how and why something happens. Finally, it exemplifies how—referring to Christopher Nolan’s film Inception—we may practice a generous ethic.

Read the paper here.

When Stupidity Rules

Most of the fathers in my six-year-old son’s class use an instant messaging service called WhatsApp. The idea was to share information regarding school issues, but in reality it became a way of passing on jokes and pictures of women. In the beginning, the pictures were harmless, that is to say, no nudity. However, the other day, a father, who by the way is the father of two girls, sent a photo that was pure porn. It’s not the first time. A few others have sent pictures like that, although the majority doesn’t. This time, I thought about writing something like: “In ten years, this could be your daughter”; “Is this your wife?”; “You’re that desperate?”

I didn’t.

Ok, some context is needed. I am a Dane who lives in Barcelona, Spain. Here, the men are much more machista, male chauvinist, than what I am used to. For example, between 2003 and 2010, 545 women died as victims of domestic violence in Spain—more than two per week.

I am choked; I am surprised, both with what I see and hear, but also with how I react. Silence is consent.

I don’t consent.

I am balancing between being polite versus honest; or rather, being far too polite to be honest.

Gender role, unfortunately, is one of those stiff identities that acts like an unchangeable norm, although all norms are social constructions. They change. We get smarter. Or am I just daydreaming? The identity we attach to being either a girl or a boy, in reality, is quite static.

The other day I was talking with my wife about having a fourth child. We have two boys, four and six years old, followed by a girl, who is now two. At one point, she said, “Smilla might like a new little baby. Girls are like that.”

”Yeah,” I said.

Then something happened. Why did I say “Yeah”?

I realized how many times a day I hear from other parents at the school, or in the park that boys are like that and girls are like this. It always irritates me because I don’t believe that girls or boys have one fixed gender identity. The French philosopher Voltaire once said, “to learn who rules over you, simply find out who you are not allowed to criticize.”

The problem that keeps me from saying something is that I don’t want to offend people. Perhaps, more from being a foreigner, I try to blend in. Also, I know from after more than eight years in Spain that it’s not okay to question the status quo. People are a bit more fragile here. The culture lacks open debate, not just about gender, but also identity, nationality, the civil war, etc. Spanish people shy away from conflicts. Apparently, I do the same. I am turning into glass. Call it integration.

I don’t want to.

So let me man up, as the cliché goes. My daughter is not a princess; I don’t even like the monarchy. My daughter, though, wears pink. Where did this need come from? One day, I woke up and she couldn’t drink or eat if the glass or spoon wasn’t pink. My boys love all the male superheroes, although my four-year-old also likes The Little Mermaid.

Fighting gender stereotypes is like Don Quixote’s fights with windmills. Gender identity doesn’t stand on anything solid, but only upon stupidity.

I have decided that from today onward, I will stop people if they uncritically put boys or girls into idiotic categories. I hope that people would stop me if I were doing the same. I refuse to be ruled by stupidity – or the monarchy. Men are not more ambitious and competitive than women, who are not more empathic or compassionate than men.

It is my ethical responsibility, not only as a father, but as a human being, to stop the spread of stupidity. I will not cultivate politeness when I unequivocally know that not all men dream about becoming a soldier and not all women dream of having their nude photos passed back and forth via WhatsApp. There is an inherent power balance here between men and women. It’s problematic. Often men define the “sexy” gender roles of women, whereas women less often, and less derogatorily, define the “strong” gender roles of men.

It stops here. The silence is over.

Published in The Transnational. A Literay Magazine, Vol. 3, 2015

 

transnational

Mindful leadership for beginners

We all know the simple moral principle that the buyers of stolen goods are as guilty as the thief. I recall this principle from childhood. The point is that the thief wouldn’t steal if no one was buying—at least a thief wouldn’t steal because of greed or arrogance, but perhaps only to meet his or her basic needs, e.g., food.

This moral principle touches upon a basic microeconomic model: supply and demand.

Continue reading here.

Jeg er altid en anden

Jeg har lige været i Danmark og fik ved den lejlighed læst lidt avis. Et sted handlede det om professor i psykologi Svend Brinkmanns opgør med vækstsamfundets rigide nytte og profitmaksimering. Kritikken af tidens instrumentalisering er ikke ny, men stadigvæk nødvendig (se min anmeldelse af Brinkmanns Ståsteder, eller min bog Kunsten at arbejde fra 2008.)

Brinkmann har dygtigt formuleret sin kritik i nogle velklingende trin i bogen Stå fast. Nu er han klar med en fortsættelse. I stedet for at stå imod samfundets ensretning, ser det ud til at professoren nu vil opdrage, måske endda moralisere. Han vil genopfinde de gode Ståsteder.

I et interview med Politiken (lørdag den 20. august), udtaler Brinkmann, at ”hvis vi forsøger at vende vores opmærksomhed bort fra det, jeg plejer at kalde selvindsigt – det handler jo hele tiden om at kigge ind i sig selv og finde ud af, hvad der er derinde – mod en selvudsigt, så kan der ske noget godt.” Hermed rejser han en velkendt kritik mod tidens coaches og mange new-age spirituelle forgreninger for hvem devisen er: ”Bliv den bedste udgave af dig selv.” Eller: Du må elske dig selv, før du kan elske de andre.”

Denne kritik er berettiget.

De fleste filosoffer vil i hvert fald finde begrebet ”selvkærlighed” absurd. Kærlighed er noget ydre. Noget som skaber glæde og giver styrke. Jeg behøver eksempelvis ikke elske mig selv for at kunne glæde mig over den kærlighed, som jeg erfarer i mødet med mine børn. Tilsvarende, synes ”den bedste udgave af mig selv” altid at være formet i det, der i dag giver anerkendelse: Karriere, penge, magt. Tænk blot på Facebook, hvor mange higer efter de andres accept og anerkendelse. Børn deler eksempelvis nøgenbilleder for ”likes”, mens de voksne redigerer deres feriebilleder og statements strategisk.

Vi lever i det Byung-Chul Han kalder ”den positive terror.”

Brinkmanns kritik er altså velkendt, men relevant. Alligevel, synes han i interviewet at forveksle psykologisk introspektion eller selvindsigt med det, som filosoffer kalder selverkendelse. Selverkendelse er ikke navlepilleri. Og her er det lidt komisk, at professoren refererer til Nietzsche i Politiken, hvor Nietzsche citeres for ordene: ”Det menneske der besidder sit livs ’hvorfor’, kan klare næsten ethvert ’hvordan’”

Nietzsche ville – som bekendt – overkomme selvets hang til navlepilleri, han ville overkomme selvet. For Nietzsche handler det ikke om hvem du er, men hvem du kan blive, eller er ifærd med at blive. Dette kræver nøjsom selvgranskning, altså filosofisk selverkendelse, ikke målsætninger. At kende sit livs ”hvorfor” kræver hårdt arbejde. Tilsvarende påpegede filosoffen Locke, at selvrefleksion er afgørende med hensyn til vurdering af vores erkendelse, Kant sagde, at vi må vende vort blik indad for at afsløre vores erkendelsers dybeste grundlag. Spinoza, talte ligefrem om selvindsigt.

Selverkendelse er afgørende for filosoffen, hvis ikke vi skal ende i selvbedrag.

Dette er vigtigt, at have dette for øje, når Brinkmann plæderer for 10 ståsteder a la sandhed, ærlighed, venlighed, værdighed, kærlighed, etc. (ifølge interviewet).

Jeg tror de fleste, vil være enige i denne stoiske commonsense filosofi, som Brinkmann – meget velment – udfolder. Det er bedre at handle ud fra kærlighed til livet, end ud fra min egen karrieres ve og vel. Problemet bliver dog mere kryptisk, når vi skal vurdere vores egne handlinger. Og det er her selverkendelsen bliver afgørende.

Selverkendelse er en vurdering her og nu, om hvorvidt jeg reelt handler lige så venligt og kærligt, som jeg måske tror eller bilder mig ind. Handler jeg kun venligt for at opnå noget, altså som instrument? Er jeg forført? Af samfundet eller mig selv? Måske sågar min egen godhed?

Den filosofiske selverkendelse sker altid i samspil med samfundet, eller i kraft af en ”selvudsigt”. Det problem, som ikke kommer frem hos Brinkmann, er, at når folk handler uret eller direkte dumt, så gør de det, fordi de ofte mangler indsigt. Selvindsigt berører også ens egne privilegier (og blinde pletter).

Skriver Brinkmann til en privilegeret læser, der har for meget overskud og tid, hvorfor vedkommende piller navle? Eller skriver han til dem, der reelt lider af eksistentielle problemer pga. samfundets indretning, fx mennesker som diskrimineres, som er fattige, syge, etc. (eller for meget navlepilleri?)? Jeg tror det første.

Det kan nemt blive et projekt for de få. Navlepilleri på samfundsniveau?

Jeg tror ikke det handler om selverkendelse versus selvudsyn, men om at kunne se sig selv og verden i en større sammenhæng, hvor jeg aldrig er andet end det ”næsten” rene ingenting. Eller for at genanvende Aristoteles dilemma: For at gøre det gode, må jeg kende det gode, men for at kende det gode, må jeg have erfaring med at have gjort noget godt. Et samfundsmæssigt engagement kræver selverkendelse. Når Marcus Aurelius skrev til sig selv, så pillede han sig ikke i navlen, men hans granskede sig selv, nøgternt, sagligt og uden fløjlshandsker.

Brinkmann viste i sin første bog, at alt for mange er forført til egen selvdestruktion. De lider af stress og depressioner. Det skal lære at sige nej. Tak for det. Nu får de samme mennesker så hjælp af et nyt sæt regler eller ståsteder, som de tilsyneladende bør følge. Måske er det sådan med psykologer, at de ynder at ”normalisere”, men når nu Brinkmann bevæger sig ind i filosofisk terræn, så handler det om at kunne tage vare på sig selv, hvilket sker ved at tage vare på samfundet. “We are in it together.” Jeg er jo aldrig andet end det ”jeg bliver” – og det jeg bliver skyldes primært det, som former mig.

Jeg er altid en anden. Jeg kan stå imod, ikke fast (Jf. Modstand).

Man kunne spørge Brinkmann, om han ikke risikerer at blive så opbyggelig og høflig, at vi alt for nemt glemmer at være ærlige.

Jeg tvivler på, at flere vil blive bedre til at tage vare sig selv, fordi du får 10 dydige ståsteder, at holde fast i. I al for lang tid har mennesket villet sin egen undergang. Vi er eksperter i at forføre os selv. Snarere burde de – os alle sammen – lære at tage vare på sig selv (ikke patetisk elske og dyrke sig selv) for derigennem at tage vare på kollektivet. Og omvendt. Dette er ansvarligt. Som Karl Marx engang påpegede, så erstatter de sociale bevægelser den enkeltes private dagdrømme og komfortable lænestolsfilosofi med kollektivets konkrete erfaringer. Sagt lidt enkelt: så vækkes min selverkendelse, idet jeg mærkes af alt det, som ikke er mig.

Når alt dette er skrevet, så kan jeg kun ønske den dygtige professor held og lykke. Hans projekt er relevant (og berører sikkert de nævnte ting bedre i bogen).

Brinkmann vil os det bedste, og sådanne mennesker er der generelt for få af.

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