Being an energy leader

To be a thought leader, first you need to be an energy leader.  If, as Lisa Feldman Barrett theorizes, the brain is not for thinking, but for allostasis, then if we want to influence the other brains, we need energy. 

My first stage of energy building and maintenance is nurturing calm. I move  the needle from the unpleasant arousal that is the clay from which I make my depression and self-hatred, towards the pleasant stillness that is serenity and calm acceptance. The energy grows and rises and from that I can weave together curiosity, gratitude, enjoyment. And as it peaks, the excitement and ecstasy that crests until it becomes the base for deeper peace and equanimity.  

Even the unpleasant affects from which we make depression, grief, common misery, sadness, and anxiety can become the material for that more pleasant flourishing that sparks renewal. 

This morning's meditation sparked that kind of pins and needles feeling that I'm guessing might be the awakening of new neurotransmitters.  I'm not a neuroscientist, so I don't know for sure. But I feel like I'm going through a period of transformation. 

The key is still tapping into and strengthening the flow of serotonin. 

What I learned at M.I.T

Last week I gave an "ignite" talk at a ed-tech conference at M.I.T.   Five years ago, I thought of myself as a writer. These days my job is closer to "thought leader." So I've been thinking about what kind of thoughts that I want to lead with.  I'm nailing together a sort of code for life.  In the spirit of five, I will keep this a five point list that helps keep me moving in the right direction.  So far it is this:

1. Delight in calm

Again and again I come back to a theory I heard about on the NPR show Invisibilia, that we really only have two emotions: calm and agitation. All of our "feelings" are how we interpret this data and over time those interpretations become the way we see the world. I can't say if this is true, but this very much appeals to me as a computational thinker, this idea that our feelings are essentially an endless improvisation on binary code, with the heart as a genius compiler.  The first goal of meditation is to get us back to the binary, to notice the calm again and decompose the endless dance of agitation to its tiniest bits. The next goal is to build a new emotional framework that will protect and nurture this interplay.  Delighting in calm means just that. Take as many minutes as you need in one chunk, or throughout the day, to observe that calm. Then take the next heartbeat to be happy about it.  Not over excited. And not overattached.  More like joyful tenderness you might feel towards a newborn baby who has found something to laugh about in the dark.  More like the joy you feel on from your best friend, who you would never then force to move in with you. The ultimate goal of meditation is how to make that calm available to others in such a way that they cannot help but connect with its profound power. According to this theory, compassion becomes the technology of feeling the agitation of others and doing what can be done to de-iterating it so that they can find their own peace.  Enlightenment, I think,  is the moment this compassion "technology" becomes  intuitive.  Or perhaps, the moment that we see that it always was and still is.

2. Walk, Run, Sit, Stand

The older I get, the harder this one is to keep, but the more essential it becomes  Carving out time to do what needs to be done to keep the sap flowing is a tough one.  But today I've been standing and again and I am amazed how powerful the flow of energy.  I think a life doing all these things as regularly and routinely as you can is the best way we can to express our appreciation for this wonderful body we were born with. Everyday we don't consciously connect to the physical vitality that is our birthright feels a  day wasted. The effort is always worth it.  So if I can't find the motivation to do this for myself, maybe I can find the urgency of doing it for others.  I dedicate all of these hours of exercise to the well being of everyone.


I have three more that I will discuss in future posts. So far:

3. Share something
4. Learn something
5. Believe in patience

What I've learned from a decade of writing about stillness...

So, I've learned some things.

First that if you stand or sit still regularly for, on average, an hour or so a day--in one session, in shorter sessions, in a park or in a messy, cluttered room--you will change. Or maybe more accurately you will change back. You will recover a deep calm, and pleasurable sense of well being that is our birthright. For whatever reason, we unlearn it, but it is always there to re-connect with.

It has been my experience that this power transfers into other parts of my life, that it has given me the energy and cognitive tools to be a better parent, a better writer, a better activist, a better educator, and develop abilities I never realized I could have. It has slowly and surely lifted me out of poverty, and into a good, solid income. (To be frank, this journey has not been a cruise, but more of a white water kayak trip, often without a guide.  So I would never recommend meditation as the quick path to money.)

It is also my experience that calm, used well, is a motivating force, not a driving force.  I experience it, but I'm not addicted to it. Calm does not make me apathetic. It gives me the courage to feel more and do more. It protects me from the drives that would lead us to harm.

From the reliable and sustainable supply of calm and pleasure has come compassion, the desire to help others manage their displeasure and agitation and the build-up of suffering that comes from my desperation to escape the natural ebb and flow of sensation.


From this experience I've started to develop some beliefs.  But I recognize these as beliefs, not facts.

I believe...

That this is true for everyone, that it would be impossible for anyone taking the time to be still, every day, to not eventually recover the power and joy that arises out of stillness.  I may have beaten down a wider neurological path to it. But I have nothing that is not innate in anyone.

That compassion is our greatest tool. It is the fundamental technology that allows us to increase this well being for ourselves, for those around us, and if we get it right, to make this increase exponential.  The more and deeper calm we are capable of, the more it spreads to those we love, the more it comes back to us.

That the calm cultivated through meditation connects us to a palpable energy in the world. Maybe it's dark matter, maybe it's the Tao, or Buddha nature, or the Holy Spirit or some other human attempt to describe it. This I don't know and I don't know if anyone will ever know. But I believe this deep and powerful calm gives us access to a kind of substance that has impact on our lives and on the world around us. And even if it doesn't exist, faith in this energy transforms us in powerful ways too important to discount as magical thinking.

And in this place of calm, we can cultivate perhaps the greatest and most liberating emotion of all, gratitude. If compassion is our best technology, then gratitude is our best magic.  Something happens in the grateful heart, a spark, a nudge, that over time becomes like compound interest.  Gratitude makes us wealthy because gratitude tells us we are wealthy.  Even in those moments when objectively we have nothing.

So at the end of this wonderful and ultimately lucky decade,  I feel tremendous gratitude.

I feel gratitude for gratitude, and above all for the fruits of stillness.

Enough

Where is it coming from?

Yesterday I went to a mini-retreat at the Tergar Centre.  It's the last small retreat before the Joy of Living -level 2 weekend retreat. It was sort of a free for all retreat. We went back over basic concepts, like open awareness. And watched a DVD on the concept of retreat, the outer, inner and secret. As we practiced on this inner retreat, Minyur our Tibetan meditation leader, encouraged us to start some light analysis of our practice.

The question she encouraged us to keep asking ourselves, as we accessed the deepening calm that grows with a diligent meditation practice, is "where is this coming from? Is it coming from inside me, outside me?"

I've been struggling the last day with fear. A job I thought I would have in September doesn't look like it's going to materialize, so I'm struggling with financial anxiety. During the retreat it seemed to be okay.  I sat quietly with my fear, even felt a little energized by my ability to just sit with it. But last night I felt like I was in its iron grip.

This morning I seem to be able to access my calm again. It's like the fear, which I know comes from my desire to be happy, is a sort of nucleus, and the calm awareness is this protective outer layer. When I ask where it's coming from I remember that I sense this awareness that is both in me and outside of me.

Physically I can feel it in my middle forehead. I've always been able to do that. But I've never labelled it in quite the same way I do now.

Where does this come from? From now I'm going to call it storage. The storage of all the goodness in me and in the world. I forget, but I have access to this storage when I need it.

And when I want it.

One of the the most challenging aspects of this meditation practice is to stay close to my desire for happiness. It's so easy to get caught up in the other desires. But if I stay close to this, I will cultivate the habit of calm awareness that is the foundation of happiness, of love, and of strength.

This is my home

Last week I moved.

I remember back in June of 2011, I wrote a post on learning that my landlady was thinking about taking my apartment back.  I knew I was going to lose my lovely spot beneath the willow tree.  But I also knew that my home was not an apartment or a place, it was a space inside of me. A solid place of calm and wisdom that I had been cultivating over many years.

That said, it was still a traumatic experience losing my apartment.  And the move has been difficult too.  I procrastinated the packing and the decluttering, so it went on days beyond what it should have.  I'm still only half unpacked.

But I'm in a new home. And there are many things I like about my new place.  It's very bright, and for the first time I have a really open and inviting workspace. It's urban, which suits my style.  And visually it's very private.  In the mornings I have a balcony on which to stand that faces a brick wall. The morning sun rises above it.  I can look out onto a tree lined street. And passers by, if they looked up would see me.  But no one is in a position to stare at me doing this strange, still meditation that is still so unusual in our culture.  So I feel less self conscious.  I am outside now.

As the morning unfolds though, it does get a little noisy.  It's on a big busy street, and many of the tenants are young guys in their thirties.  So there is music sometimes, and pot smoking on the balcony.  But it's not party central.  Just guys dealing with the stresses of finding their way.

And I'm learning that moderate noise can be kind of stimulating. I've discovered some background noise apps that I'm experimenting with. It's a matter of feeling connected to the busy world again. I feel like I did back in the 90s, when I was living in The Plateau with all my hipster friends.  I'm starting over.

Regardless of where I live, however, I have another home.  This blog.  Here I have a record of peace and comfort that is a harbour during whatever storm I'm likely to face in my life. Here I generate calm and confidence, always available to me.

This blog is my ground. This blog is my tree.