CHATTERING MIND & LISTENING MIND
Even before I started Zen meditation, over sixty years ago, I used to find it interesting to just sit quietly and to observe my mind – to be attentive to what was going on in my whole field of consciousness. It seemed to me that it was an activity similar to bird-watching – but being alert to thoughts, sensations and feelings rather than to birds. The practice of zazen, sitting meditation, helped me cultivate this non-attached, yet compassionate, awareness – watching the birds without disturbing them.
In my day-to-day life I too easily became absorbed in my own mental chattering – the spinning thoughts and endless, somewhat pointless and unintended, ruminating. This habit-driven rumination, or reactivity, was so dominating that I lost touch with the world around me. I was so caught up in my own mind-wanderings and circular internal arguments that I was often unaware of my surroundings, or I was no longer attending to what someone was saying. I would watch my friend speaking but I was not hearing them, instead I was absorbed in the thoughts going around and around in my head. Too often I identified with my chattering mind and took it for granted that this was ‘who I am.’ I too easily forgot that when I observed this chattering activity – when I was being mindful – I must have been observing from a position outside the chattering. I must have been observing from a perspective that lies in the space around the chattering – the seemingly boundless space of the mind itself – what we might call the ‘listening mind’. Surely, I began to realise, if I am to identify with anything, it is this generative space in which thoughts, sensations, images and feelings appear and disappear?
Another thing I noticed was that there seemed to be a close association between this chattering, endlessly ruminating aspect of the mind, and the need I kept feeling to acquire things. As I observed my thoughts, perceptions and feelings I noticed how I often wanted to hang on to them, or to possess them. The habitual chattering, commenting and evaluating seemed to generate needs for things, and by ‘things’ I mean feelings, ideas, opinions and imagined futures, as well as objects. Even as I read about the Buddha advising us to minimise suffering by not clinging too rigidly to ourselves, other people and beings, or to objects, ideas, beliefs and opinions – I nevertheless could see that this was precisely what I was doing. I began to understand that becoming aware of habits of desire, attachment and acquisitiveness, was the first step in learning how to cope with transience, dissatisfaction, pain and loss.
I began to see how insatiable desire fuels restlessness, disturbance and conflict – how easily I chased after things, ideas and sensations, in the hope that each new thing or idea would satisfy me. I realised that this is the mindset of the acquisitive self – a dimension of my mind that was closely related to the chattering and ruminating that occupied so much of my time. Gradually, I came to understand that acquisitions – of whatever kind – new things, experiences and ideas – only reinforced my desire for more. And this process of craving and acquiring, of wanting more, only took me further and further away from peace, equanimity and wellbeing.
I remember when I first experienced the realisation that I do not have to identify with, or be bound by, the chattering mind or acquisitive ego-self. It came as a revelation. Unbidden and unexpectedly a new perspective on who I am, and who I could be, opened up. It was like seeing myself and the world from a different place. As if I had been given a new pair of spectacles, enabling me to see everything more clearly and vividly. It was as if I could now observe the chattering mind as just one aspect of who I am – rather than as the main aspect of my identity.
This realisation of the ‘empty’ space within which thoughts, feelings and sensations arise and die away, came with a feeling of lightness, transparency and spaciousness – as if I no longer had a name and all the sensations were without labels or definite boundaries. Thoughts and feelings seemed less substantial, more transparent, with less power to overwhelm and bind me. Everything seemed clear and distinct, yet unified and indivisible. Thoughts and feelings were somehow ineffable, yet very tangible – vivid, fluid, open and porous. I experienced a profound shift of perspective, from a tightly bound self to a feeling of boundlessness. From a sense of separation and division to a feeling of connection and unity. And I realised that we all share this open nameless dimension. We all have this deep, indefinable nature.
Peace of mind, for me, comes from not dwelling on the passing thoughts, sensations, feelings and cravings that flow through my consciousness, but on a deep awareness of consciousness itself – the boundless space of the listening mind. Rather than identifying with the thoughts and feelings, the chattering, we can identify with the spacious mind itself – the space within which the chattering arises. It is like attending to the river, rather than the fish, bubbles and silt that are carried along by the river – a realisation that I am the river rather than any particular fish, bubble or cluster of silt carried along in the eddies and currents of the river-mind. For me this was, and is, a very liberating experience – a shift from seeing the world from the position of my ego-identity or acquisitive self, to seeing the world from the perspective of an open, spacious, creative mind.
Unfortunately, not only do individuals identify with the habit-driven chattering self, but also communities, societies, cultures and states collectively identify with the dogmatic ideas, preconceptions and beliefs that are so often the product of the chattering acquisitive self. This may be one of the reasons why there is so much conflict, anger and prejudice in the relationships between communities and states in different parts of the world. These conflicts are often rooted in extremes of identification with the chattering habit-driven acquisitive strands of our minds, rather than with the open, unified, listening space of the mind itself.
To step aside from the ego-self, and to let go of ideas and doctrines, even for a short time, is very liberating – like a breath of fresh air when we have spent a long time in a tunnel or a room with no windows. As it says in an early Buddhist sutra, while there is no need to be an ‘enemy of any doctrine’, there is also no need to ‘shut down’ the mind or cling to any doctrine – ‘the wise ones [..] have laid their burden down.’ (Fronsdal 2016: 11-12)
What I am referring to as the ‘chattering mind’ can also be described as the noisy, craving, clinging, acquisitive mind – a mind absorbed in thoughts, feelings and sensations, chasing after ideas or verbal solutions, and trying to escape from, or avoiding, life’s difficulties. By contrast, the ‘listening mind’ refers to the quiet, attentive, non-attached, beginner’s mind – a mind at ease, composed, not dwelling on thoughts and feelings, and not chasing after things and ideas. We can also think of this as a contrast between the ‘having’ and ‘being’ modes of living. In mindful meditation we are cultivating the being mode – learning the arts of listening, paying attention, letting-go and just being here.
Chasing after ideas, theories and beliefs in the hope that they will solve life’s challenges is an activity that often leads to disappointment and the pursuit of yet another idea or belief. By all means let us enjoy the stimulation and interest ideas offer – in the same way we might enjoy a beautiful view of mountains or the sea or a flower – but don’t let us cling to them or invest them with the power to solve the deep difficulties that life presents us with. As Dogen says in his essay, Fukanzazengi, ‘you should therefore cease from practice based on intellectual understanding, pursuing words and following after speech.’ (in Loori 2002: 21) More often than not the intellectual stimulation and entertainment provided by ideas and theories are likely to be distractions from mindful practice – flights of fancy that take us away from genuine engagement and mindful awareness. Such abstractions often turn out to be mirages and delusions, bringing no relief from craving, frustration and suffering – indeed they often feed the very craving and clinging from which we are struggling to be free. What is necessary is changing our relationship with these speculations to one of non-attachment – that is, compassionate, clear-sighted, unclinging awareness.
It is in the non-chattering, non-dwelling and listening mode that we unbind the fetters of habit, reactivity, craving and delusion. In my experience, undirected habit-driven intellectualising can often be part of the problem rather than part of the solution. Too often it is unmindful speaking, ruminative inner chatter and reactive analysis that feeds the craving, mental turmoil and delusion from which we are trying to be free. There is a restorative power in the quietness, stillness and non-attachment of zazen – of quiet listening and just being here. Each time we let go of rumination and reactive chatter we get a taste of freedom, clarity and peace of mind. With patience and practice, we can let go more easily and more frequently, leading to greater fulfilment, creativity, understanding and wellbeing. It seems to me that this is the lifelong art of being mindful that Gotama and Zen teachers advocate as the path of compassion, peace and liberation.
I would like to end with my variation on a poem by the Japanese poet, Ryokan (1758-1831):
the past is already past
the future is not yet here
the present never abides
things are ever-changing
there’s nothing on which to depend
let go of names and words
let go of time-worn views
don’t chase after ideas
sit quiet and reflect on how things are
let the world and its beauty
flow on
NB 1. At the heart of zazen is the realisation that we have no name, no definition, no fixed essence. We are instead the open fluid unbounded mind – what is known as ‘mushin’ in Zen. Although it is often translated as, ‘no mind,’ mushin really denotes non-dwelling mind – that is, non-attached to mental activity, not dwelling on thoughts or sensations, and not adding a commentary, or judgments, or other habit-driven reactions. In this way we don’t identify with particular thoughts, or chains of thought or feeling – we remain free, one step back, letting go of what occurs from moment to moment. Some Zen teachers describe mushin as ‘beginner’s mind’ or ‘Buddha mind’ – the mind as being open, non-attached, fluid and responsive to the world. To undertake any activity with mushin, untethered to the ego-self, is liberating and enjoyable. Whether sitting, standing, walking, washing-up, cleaning, gardening, eating or working, if done with mushin – rather than with the ‘galloping’ or chattering mind, when we are tied to the wild demanding horse of the ego-self – will feel more peaceful, vivid and satisfying.
NB 2. When reading many Christian mystics, I am struck by phrases like, ‘ocean of indeterminacy,’ ‘the cloud of unknowing’ and ‘ground of being,’ for these seem to resonate with what I occasionally experience as the open space of the non-attached quiet listening mind itself – the unnameable, vibrant unity of presence – that is, being awake and fully here.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Fronsdal, Gil. 2016. The Buddha before Buddhism: Wisdom from the Early Teachings. Boulder: Shambhala
Loori, John Daido, ed. 2002. The Art of Just Sitting. Boston, USA: Wisdom Publications.