Jeremy Mohler

Writer and meditation teacher

Who are you when you’re not trying to make people like you?

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This sounds weird, but being mindful is like standing at a distance from the mind as it thinks.

From a distance, thoughts appear as phenomena rather than our entire experience, how we normally experience them. They’re like an itch or the hum of the trash truck idling outside—just what’s happening right now. They come and go, with little rhyme or reason.

They aren’t necessarily the truth, and often aren’t. They’re reactions, judgments, preferences, memories, worries, etc.

Some of my thoughts sound like my mom’s voice. Others, like my dad’s. Others, like the voices of close friends. Others are based on stories I’ve heard, memories of TV shows I’ve seen, headlines I’ve read, etc.

The question, then—and this is what I’m grappling with recently—is, who is thinking these thoughts? More to the point: who am I when I’m not believing my thoughts—when I’m just watching them?

Who am I when I’m not looking forward to a cup of coffee? (I recently kicked a caffeine addiction.)

Who am I when I’m not drinking beer on a Friday night?

Who am I when I’m not headed somewhere else?

Who am I when I’m not judging my friends?

Who am I when I’m not judging my parents?

Who am I when I’m not trying to make people like me?

Who am I when I’m not a writer or meditation teacher?

Who am I when I’m not checking Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter for notifications?

Who am I when I’m not holding on to the privilege of being a white, college-educated, heterosexual man?

Who am I when I’m listening to the cicada sounds at night?

Who am I when I’m sitting and enjoying the presence of my great aunt Marian?

Those are my questions—yours are different, but probably only a little.

I don’t need a solid answer. I know that I’m like everything and everyone else: always changing, conditional. I know that expecting solidity is what hurts.

But asking these questions better pay off because I’m banking on them leading somewhere. I can’t go back to knowing now. I’ve seen enough to know that not knowing is where life is.

This, from the twentieth-century poet Rainer Maria Rilke, gives me hope:

“Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

Want to be more mindful?

I’ve come up with a cheat sheet to help you start and stick with a regular meditation practice. Get it for free here.

Listen to my podcast Meditation for the 99%

On Meditation for the 99%, I take meditation out of faraway monasteries,expensive retreat centers, and Corporate America, and bring it to work, relationships, and, especially, politics. Listen everywhere podcasts are available.

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Teaching meditation to socialists scared the hell out of me

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“Who am I?” I wondered, as 20 strangers closed their eyes and settled into chairs.

I knew who they were: socialists, my people — skeptical of capitalism; deeply disappointed by racism, sexism, and climate change; knowing there has to a better way to organize society.

But here I am teaching meditation instead of debating Marxism and the shortcomings of the Democratic Party.

As I began — ”find a posture halfway between relaxed and alert” — my stomach tied itself into a knot. I tried to breathe normally but my shoulders were shaking, making my voice sound higher.

I had spent the hour before denying I was a nervous wreck. Who tells socialists to care about themselves?

“Liberal.” “Bougie.” “Social justice warrior.” I could hear the call outs in my mind like they were tweets about a New York Times op-ed.

Thank God meditation teaches a response for anxiety and other overwhelming emotions.

Simply put: open to them.

Emotions are attached to stories, i.e., thoughts about the past or future. We usually either indulge the stories or run away from them. We follow them away from the present moment or distract ourselves with social media, alcohol, name your favorite distraction.

When you notice unhelpful stories, accept that they’re just what’s happening right now. They are real but not necessarily true. Let them go with the mind’s attention. Then, open to the present moment, to all it’s sights, smells, tastes, sounds, and feelings.

When we’re lost in thought, we close off to the rest of our experience, particularly if we’re overwhelmed.

“When we are stressed, our attention narrows and fixates, often into obsessive thinking, worry, and judgment,” writes meditation teacher Tara Brach.

This closing off shows up in the body as a clench — in the stomach, shoulders, hands, etc. — as if we’re bracing for something bad just around the corner.

Opening is allowing the tightness to just be and then feeling its raw sensations, it’s warmth, tingling, or pain — whatever it feels like.

Feeling emotions without coming up with stories to explain them takes some wind out of their sails. It lowers the emotional charge. It allows you to calm the body, putting you back in touch with your surroundings.

As soon as I didn’t see the knot in my stomach as a problem, it relaxed. I felt its serpentine grip loosen. I breathed deeply, feeling cool air fill the bottoms of my lungs. I started feeling like myself, who I always am no matter the circumstances, whomever I’m around.

Being mindful isn’t just about focusing more or directing your attention. It’s also about relaxing your attention so that you’re witnessing thoughts and emotions rather than being lost inside of them, whipped around by their every whim.

It’s about opening, allowing, and receiving — which enables you to respond rather than react to whatever or whomever you encounter.

Want to be more mindful?

I’ve come up with a cheat sheet to help you start and stick with a regular meditation practice. Get it for free here.

Meditation for the 99%

On Meditation for the 99%, I take meditation out of faraway monasteries, expensive retreat centers, and Corporate America, and bring it to work, relationships, and, especially, politics. Listen everywhere podcasts are available.

Photo credit: David Shankbone

The power of facing your emotions rather than turning away

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I recently stumbled on an alternative translation of dukkha, the ancient Pali word from Buddhism usually translated as “suffering.” In The Trauma of Everyday Life, the psychiatrist Mark Epstein says it also means “hard to face.”

I like this phrase because it implies that we can turn towards the pain, as hard as that may be. One can even read it as saying: the more we turn away from pain, the more we suffer.

So much of life is hard to face. That you’ll eventually die. That who you love will die, possibly before you. That you might never be as rich and successful as you thought you’d be. That you might owe thousands of dollars in debt. That white supremacy and misogyny exist.

There’s also the small, seemingly inconsequential stuff. That you need to respond to that day-old email from your boss. That you need to tell your partner you’ve been feeling bored with the relationship. That you probably shouldn’t drink again tonight.

“Even pleasant experiences carry a whiff of dissatisfaction because of their inability to provide ultimate comfort,” Epstein writes. “No matter how fulfilling, they eventually run their course.”

Regular meditation practice is one way we can start to turn towards the pain.

Anyone who’s tried meditation even once knows: even when you’re doing nothing but sitting in silence, the mind creates suffering.

Our mind doesn’t stop telling stories about the past and future. It worries about tomorrow. It judges you. It questions what you’re doing with your life. Upwards of 80 percent of our thinking is negative, research shows.

Just like in a movie or novel, the mind’s storytelling creates emotions. Anxiety. Fear. Anger. Self-doubt. Sadness. Excitement.

These emotions cause the mind to create even more stories. It tries to find an answer for why you’re feeling overwhelmed, which often just adds more fuel to the fire.

The takeaway here is that the emotions inside of us are what’s hard to face, not life itself.

It’s not what your partner might say when you tell them you’re bored that’s hard to face. It’s the fear you feel about being out of control, about not knowing what they’ll say, about putting the relationship on the line.

Luckily, meditation is a practice. It doesn’t just leave you hanging with the emotion. It strengthens your ability to turn towards what’s hard to face inside of you.

During a meditation session, you begin to notice the raw sensations that accompany emotions. You feel the tension in your stomach that comes with, say, anxiety. You feel the clenching of the muscles. Instead of going off on another explanation for why you’re feeling anxious — another story — you learn to sit with the tension. You even get curious about it. You release the tension, opening into the uncharted territory of the present moment.

Then, one day, you find an inner courage that no one can take away.

“When we are willing to stay even a moment with uncomfortable energy, we gradually learn not to fear it, “ says American Buddhist teacher Pema Chödrön. “The only way out, so to speak, is through.”

I know. It sounds like hell. But along the way there are moments when it feels like you can face anything, both inside and outside. And those moments grow more often the more you meditate.

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Listen to the podcast version

I talked about this post on my podcast, Meditation for the 99%. Listen to it on Apple Podcasts, Google Play, and everywhere podcasts are available. Stream this episode below.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

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