Jeremy Mohler

Writer and meditation teacher

Waking up to the endless possibilities of right here, right now

by


In Buddhist psychology, there’s a concept dubbed “the middle way” that can make life a little easier.

The ancient Indian son of an oligarch turned spiritual master we now call the Buddha told his followers: “There is a middle way between the extremes of indulgence and self-denial, free from sorrow and suffering.”

Indulgence is our default way of being. We follow our mind’s every whim into the past or future, replaying memories or worrying about tomorrow.

Like a gripping Netflix drama, we indulge the storyline, which sweeps us away.

Denial is a little different but almost as common—and far more destructive. It’s our internal critic, rearing its toxic head as a “should” or “shouldn’t.” I shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts. I should be a little skinnier. I shouldn’t be so afraid.

Both take us away from the only place life is happening, the present moment. Both keep us at a distance from tasting our food, savoring the mystery of the night sky, or feeling someone’s love for us.

Last weekend, while RV camping with my parents, I got a front row seat to my denial. In such close quarters, I saw firsthand how judgmental I can be. I judged my mom for cleaning up relentlessly. I judged my dad for talking everyone’s ears off. I even judged myself for judging so much.

One morning, after tripping over a bowl in the middle of the RV, I judged my parents’ two standard poodles for not putting away their food bowls. How silly!

The middle way is accepting whatever is happening in the present moment—including thoughts—rather than following our habitual patterns of indulgence and escape. The middle way is waking up to the endless possibilities. The middle way is inner freedom.

The Buddha once welcomed into his home a musician who was discouraged with his meditation practice.

“What happens when you tune your instrument too tightly?” the Buddha asked.

“The strings break,” the musician replied.

“And what happens when you string it too loosely?”

“When it’s too loose, no sound comes out,” the musician answered. “The string that produces a tuneful sound is not too tight and not too loose.”

“That,” said the Buddha, “is how to practice: not too tight and not too loose.”

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.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Android | Google Podcasts | RSS | More

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

by


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.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Android | Google Podcasts | RSS | More

This is your brain on capitalism

by


One reason it’s difficult to be mindful—i.e., to pay attention to the present moment—is ideology, but not the kind you might be thinking.

Yes, whether you’re a Democrat, Republican, or Independent shapes how you think about politics. But ideology goes much deeper than that.

It’s a set of beliefs about how and why the world works the way it does. It’s often unconscious and less a choice than a preconceived notion, an idea that just seems like “common sense.”

Like, why do dogs pee on trees? To mark their territory, right?

No, dogs pee on things for all kinds of reasons. Some do it to give other dogs information about themselves. Some do it because they feel anxious. And, yes, some do it to stake their claim.

Thinking that dogs must be marking their territory is an example of capitalist ideology.

Before a few hundred years ago, the idea of “private property” didn’t exist. For tens of thousands of years, humans roamed Earth as hunter gatherers with no fixed territory.

Only with agriculture did land become something to measure, control, and claim as “mine.” Even then, individuals didn’t “own” land. Farmland and pasture supported villages, tribes, and peasant communities, and served feudal lords and religious leaders.

Capitalism privatized land, food, housing, health care, and other human needs. So, when we see a dog peeing on a tree, we automatically think it must be marking its territory because that’s what humans do living in capitalism. We “greedily grasp lands,” as the Muscogee Native Americans described European Americans.

Capitalist ideology shapes our thinking in so many ways:

It makes us think that the only path to happiness is to hustle — to never stop working.

It makes us think that people are driven only by competition, and not connection too.

It makes us feel guilty for calling in sick to work.

It makes us think that resources are not finite and potentially abundant but scarce.

It makes us blame people who have it worse than us for our problems — often because of their skin color, nationality, or gender.

It makes us think that downing Nyquil is how to cure a cold because we’ve got work tomorrow.

It makes us think that emotions are only valuable in our private lives and not at work or in public.

It makes us praise kids conditionally, only if they behave how we want them to.

It makes us think that one day we’ll be rich too.

It makes us think that if we just have the right morning routine—or diet or workout regimen or—we’ll finally be successful.

It makes us scared to quit a job we hate until we’ve got another lined up.

It makes us judge those who suffer—addicts, the homeless, the incarcerated—for making “bad” choices.

It makes us judge ourselves for not working hard enough, for not paying attention, for not having the right body, for not having enough money, for…

Mindfulness can’t change society—it’s an individual practice. But it can help us avoid falling hook, line, and sinker for the dominant ideologies of our time, like capitalism, white supremacy, and patriarchy.

Then, we can get to work together to change the society.

As Zen priest and meditation teacher angel Kyodo williams says, the mind is like “that drawer that collects everything in your house.”

“You say, ‘Oh, but wait a minute, someone lived in this house before me. And some of that stuff is not mine. Actually, this is not mine. That’s my mom’s. This is not mine; that’s the inheritance of white supremacy.’ And we have no real way of being able to discern what is mine, what is yours, what we’re holding collectively, what I have inherited, what I have taken on as a measure of protection, of a way to cope at some point in my life. [Meditation] lets us begin to do that.”

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.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Android | Google Podcasts | RSS | More