To study Zen you must penetrate
through the barrier of the ancestral teachers.
To learn the Path you must come
to the end of the road of mind.
When the road of mind is cut off,
the whole body appears.
It’s like a person drinking water:
she knows for herself whether it’s cool or warm.
When you reach this stage,
do not ask just anyone about it.
If you can find a real Zen teacher
show them how your mind is working.

 —T’aego (1301-1382)

Psychoanalytic training always begins with Freud.  He was responsible for pointing us in the right direction to understand the subtle and dramatic influences on our thoughts and feelings. My first encounter with his work happened in our beginning year. We held a “reading Freud” session.  Everyone took a turn to read a passage followed by a discussion of his theory and our impressions of his thinking. At the time it felt almost sacred, the passages held a biblical quality that was embodied in our measured reading of each word.  I found myself gazing up at a great wall of knowledge about the mind and the Path before me held many uncertainties. Will I be able to have three patients willing to meet with me four times a week for two years? Can I meet all the writing requirements and meet the expectations of my supervisors? My road of mind threatened to block my experience of the water I was drinking. It was in the moment-to-moment encounters with those who rested on my couch and allowed themselves to dream with me that I stepped off that road and drank the water. The wisdom of the Analytic teachers challenged and resonated with my mind. The Path became illuminated with my experiences in analytic training which allowed me to cut off those uncertainties and walk with gratitude for the great work of Freud and those who refined and expanded his theories as we discovered more about the mind. The whole body of our shared embodied experiences in life appear before me. My steps are sure on this wonderful path.

 

Pure morning, near the old temple

Where early sunlight lights the tree tops,
My path has wound, through a sheltered hollow
Of boughs and flowers.
Here birds are alive with mountain light,
And the mind touches peace in a pool,
A thousand sounds are quieted
By the breathing of a temple bell.

— Ch’ang Chien

Seven years ago I began a journey that has wound through many sheltered hollows. I return to these entries along with the early sunlight as a psychoanalyst. My vow to perceive the boundlessness of reality is strengthened by the deeper understanding of my fears and desires. I sit with those who seek the same thing. As they face away from me on “the couch” and dream aloud of the thousand sounds that dominate their mind we find the temple bell of their true self. Our journey reaches the light and the dark that dwells beyond awareness. We discover links to the past that open new vistas along the tree tops of their basic assumptions about who they are. A new life emerges and they are liberated from the dread that shrouded possibilities and inhibited their curiosity. The journey of psychoanalysis allows the mind to find that pool where peace can be touched and the birds and flowers and boughs of joy and imagination are brought to life.

 

The bird’s path, winding far,

Is right before you. 

Water of the Dokei Gorge,

You return to the ocean,

I to the mountain.

- Hofuku Seikatsu (d. 976)

 

 

The challenges of this past year are unprecedented. We were exposed to a life ending virus and instead of gathering to support each other we had to isolate ourselves from the world. The shift to teletherapy was the only way to continue providing help while we complied with the mandates from the government. It was the beginning of a new path for both of us. Psychotherapy is unique in bringing the known and unknown into the same space. The bird’s path before us holds what is familiar and strange. When we come upon a new thought or a strong feeling we can pause and share our experiences. The dialog will always produce a narrative that can bring a new and deeper understanding for my client. The river in Dokei Gorge is constant with an ever-changing flow of water. Our regularly scheduled meetings become a constant space for the ever-changing flow of experience. Even as we sit in our separate homes, the video connection allows that space to exist. We have been able to continue our journey on this far and winding path in these uncertain times.

 In these remote and secluded depths

of quiet mystery,

silence boundless, 

distances empty,

you see endeavor denies

our nature

and appearance the inner pattern.

When eyes and ears can tell us

nothing of such things,

how could anyone follow

the path with mere footsteps?

- Hsieh Ling-yun (385-433) 

Intuition is an elusive concept in therapy. To have a funny feeling about something is a profound and meaningful experience without the benefit of a clear understanding of cause and effect. To be distraught over the tragic loss of someone close is a clear and traumatic part of our ourselves. To feel unsettled about a situation or a relationship is to be subject to uncertainty and self doubt. We try to avoid conducting an investigation; to find some proof for this elusive experience. In therapy we honor the quiet mystery of intuition and allow the thoughts and feelings to guide us to a new understanding. Intuition is a gateway to change. By transcending mere footsteps we become open to the experience of insight that can only be realized by sitting with the mysterious and elusive intuitions. It becomes the teacher within and provides a new space for our perceptions and feelings.

 

Consciousness and perception range from shallow to deep. As for profound perceptions, they are pure through the ages. They are the basis to influence and cultivate mind from the first generation of the aspiration for enlightenment until the achievement of buddhahood without falling back.

- Records of the Lanka

 

The ancient Greeks had two words for time: chronos and kairos. Chronos refers to the seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years in our life. Kairos are the profound moments in our life. They happen when they happen.  In therapy I meet with my patient once, twice, even four times a week if it’s psychoanalysis. We talk about the experiences they have and how they compare with other experiences from the past. We contemplate the future and their fears and hopes about what is to come. In the midst of our reflections a profound moment occurs. They make a new link between an assumption they have carried all their life and an observation I share about our conversation. A new awareness emerges and the aspiration for enlightenment influences and cultivates a more balanced and mindful understanding of all the positive and negative parts of who they are becoming.

 

Withdraw now from

the invisible pounding and weaving

of your ingrained ideas.

If you want to be rid of this

invisible turmoil, you must just sit

through it and let go of everything.

Attain fulfillment and illuminate thoroughly.

Light and shadow altogether forgotten.

Drop off your own skin,

and the sense-dusts will be fully purified.

The eye then readily discerns the brightness.

- Hongzhi Zhengjue (1091–1157) courtesy of dailyzen.com

 

I have always struggled with the idea of “just sitting” . After spending five days in sesshin, where I sat facing a wall for most of the time I emerged with a deep appreciation for how difficult and challenging it is to just sit. The pandemic has shifted my practice from the office to the zoom room on my laptop. I sit at home and connect with others sitting in their homes. Together we work on the fears and frustrations of this imposed life of quarantine. We create a space for the pounding and weaving ideas that reflect this frightening and confusing new reality. Letting go is not about feeling happy instead of angry or afraid. Letting go is dropping off our conclusions and allowing new questions to emerge. The brightness that can be discerned will challenge our basic assumptions. Our co created space is an opportunity to discover new truths and to cultivate a confidence and wisdom in ourselves.

 

 

For those who have no mental vigilance,

Though they may hear the teachings,

Ponder them or meditate,

With minds like seeping water

From a leaking jug,

Their learning will not settle in their memories.

- Santideva Bodhicaryavatara   courtesy of dailyzen.com

 

 

Freud would refer to mental vigilance as evenly suspended attention. It is important as a psychotherapist to be open to everything my client is discussing so that I can fully understand their world and how they perceive themselves in it. We need to do the same for ourselves. By staying vigilant to all of our experiences we can connect to the richness of our daily lives. It is easy to become preoccupied with worry, excitement, and anger. The day becomes a source of confirmation for what is felt strongly inside. We anticipate disasters and bring suspicion into our experiences with others. It would be overly simplistic to suggest we stop doing this because it is a natural part of  who we are and is necessary to navigate the complex and challenging world we live in. Mental vigilance is to question our beliefs and assumptions. We can elevate our self-doubt to a practice of contemplation. Instead of second guessing we can wonder about the strong emotions that arise and consider the myriad possibilities that may be suggested by their presence. For learning to settle in our minds we need to be open to new experiences no matter how subtle or powerful they may seem. Our curiosity is also a natural part of who we are and can keep the seeping waters from spilling out of the jug.