Practicing Zen with Depression
All kinds
of studies point to the health benefits of
meditation, and as a Zen Buddhist priest, I am not surprised. I have long found
meditation to be a healing salve.
Once we taste the fruits of meditation, it can be tempting for spiritual seekers to imagine that
it will save us from all forms of suffering, including sadness,
anxiety, and mental illness. Using meditation to avoid pain is so
common that it has a name -- "spiritual bypass." But we suffer more
when meditation inevitably fails to relieve all pain because we feel like we must be doing it wrong.
On top of feeling depressed, we end up feeling like failures in our spiritual
traditions.
But it is not a flaw of practice to feel pain. A few years after his
enlightenment, Eihei Dogen, the founder of Soto Zen, likely
suffered from depression. Hakuin's autobiographical accounts describe
awakenings followed by intense periods of suffering. And Zen teacher Reigetsu Susan Moon has written extensively about her struggles with
depression. Though not so enduring, I suffered from situational depression brought on by a divorce and the concurrent deaths of three loved ones. If you are a Zen practitioner who suffers sometimes, you are not
alone.
I am a Soto Zen priest in Dogen's line, and the emphasized practice in our tradition
is a meditation practice called shikantaza. In shikantaza, we sit still, stop talking, and pay attention to whatever arises. Shikantaza, or silent illumination, allows us to open our hearts to life just as it is and
recognize our intimacy with all beings, including our pain. Rather than avoid, we turn toward whatever is arising and open our hearts to things as they are. Acceptance of our
condition gives birth to compassion. This is no small thing.
But a complete Zen practice also includes mindfully using skillful means to
alleviate suffering in ourselves and in the world. The practices of opening our
hearts to things as they are and taking action to improve things may seem
contradictory, but they are actually complementary. Bearing witness and
practicing skillful means are like the foot before and the foot behind in
walking, and a complete Zen practice includes both.
Bearing
witness
In Zen
practice, the first step is to see what is present. From this perspective,
whatever arises is a dharma gate. As James Ford writes,
"We are completely subject to the vicissitudes of our lives. Zen is not an
escape hatch from this. This is the field of enlightenment." Rumi writes,
"Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some
momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor... invite them in."
Just acknowledging pain can be a relief. Giving ourselves and others
permission to be exactly as we are in any given moment is the heart of
compassion and opens the door for us to respond with loving kindness. It also
invites more openness and curiosity about our experience.
If depression is severe, it may be counter-productive to meditate. It may be necessary to seek medical attention and postpone practice until symptoms are reduced.* But in my experience with depression, meditating has been beneficial.
In meditation, without trying to control our experience, we compassionately attend whatever arises as a dharma gate, as an opportunity to comprehend the true nature of phenomena. As we pay attention, we first might notice our thoughts. For example, we might think that our situation is hopeless and that life is meaningless. Especially while depressed, our thoughts often become sticky as shameful senses of self arise. We may think, "I am a failure," identifying with our feelings. Meditation brings this subtle identification with feeling states into awareness. We do not need to manipulate the content of our thoughts while meditating. In paying attention, we just see that even painful thoughts come and go. We notice the space between thoughts and begin to recognize thoughts as thoughts rather than as the absolute truth, and this opens up some space between the brain and the skull. "Opening the hand of thought" allows new possibilities to arise.
depressed, but what is depression? Thinking that we already know the answer can exacerbate our suffering. We may think of depression as a static "thing" or mental state that cannot shift or change, especially when we identify with it. One practice is to drop the hwadu, "what is this?" into our meditation and look beyond our thoughts into the sensations of our body for what is actually present. We'll likely notice a set of feelings that we associate with depression, but it is important to keep paying attention. For me, one sensation is something like a slowly shape-shifting, dark cloud in my brain. This "moving fog" pressures and heats my skull. Sometimes there is also a heaviness in my heart, hollowness in my gut, and pressure behind my eyes, like I might cry at any moment. But with close attention at the cellular level, I see that sensations keep changing moment after moment. The way I'd describe my experience one second is not quite the same the next. In opening awareness beyond thoughts to ever-changing sensations, we see that depression has no fixed essence. Everything changes. Depression is not a constant expression of some underlying, permanent self. When we are suffering, recognizing impermanence is a relief.
While sitting upright in the midst of depression, we may
also be relieved to see that the fog of melancholia is interpenetrated by the sensory world. Depression is not a solid thing. The
landscape of life also comes forth, like moonlight shining through clouds. It
might be the sensation of the breath, a birdsong, the sound of rain, or a honking truck that opens our mind. Sometimes we describe this open awareness as "creating a bigger container," but we do not actually create this container. It already exists. We just notice what is already present. Our inner
life is inseparable from the wider landscape of this sensory world. There is only an imaginary line between inside and outside, between self and other, and our intimacy with all beings is no small comfort. Even when we think we are alone, we are held by the boundless universe, and the universe resides in our hearts.
And, as the koan says, "the clearly enlightened person falls into a well." Falling from grace, falling "from the hundred foot pole," is an opportunity to awaken again. Everything is changing before our very eyes, there is nothing that we can possess forever, and falling releases us from our attachments, the very ones that have made us suffer again and again. While falling, we can open our eyes to the way things are in this very moment of descent and maybe even pluck a strawberry on the way down.
But there is also the deep, dark depth of a well. And though we may surrender, stay curious, and even appreciate cold stone walls, sometimes depression feels relentless. The persistence of depression is not an indicator of a failed
practice. While wide awake, we can be trapped in a well! We will need to do more than meditate to take care of ourselves. This is part of stepping off the hundred foot pole. When hungry, we eat. When tired, we sleep. When depressed, we employ skillful means to alleviate suffering. This too may be part of an awakened life.
Practicing
skillful means
For me,
when depression arises, it is helpful to bow, to accept the guest
who is with me in the moment and offer a compassionate response.
Though it may feel like my fault, I remind myself that nobody is at fault.
There is no first cause. This is just how it is, the result of causes and
conditions beyond counting.
In these
moments, faith sustains me -- faith that even depression is without fixed
essence, faith that all things change, and faith in something
bigger than my limited karmic self. We don't only save all beings but are saved
by all beings. The universe is always holding us compassionately, and we are manifestations of
its infinite presence. Like Buddha on the night of his enlightenment, we can
touch the earth and feel it supporting us, moment after moment, even in our
darkest hours. We can even cry out to this universe to save us, and in the
moment of our cry, the universe responds, and the cry itself is the voice of
Buddha.
We should
not pretend that meditating will cure medical illnesses. It would be absurd to
tell someone suffering with diabetes or cancer that meditating would cure them.
I would not even suggest that someone suffering from a dehydration headache
should meditate to make it go away. The compassionate response is to offer a glass of water. To practice skillful means is to alleviate the causes and conditions that give
rise to suffering. This means being aware of our symptoms in part through
meditation and mindfully trying remedies to reduce our suffering. Depression,
for example, may have multiple causes, one of which may be biological. In such
circumstances, medication may be an important part of treatment. Other skillful
means may include taking "opposite action" -- doing therapeutically
advised activities even though we may not want to, such as exercising, seeing a
therapist, joining sangha-mates to sit or drink tea, and asking for help when
hurting. For me, a combination of meditation, exercise, sleep hygiene, counseling, and light-therapy offered some relief. Rather than view these
activities as in opposition to some image of "pure" Zen practice, I
consider them part of my practice.
Though
means vary, depression is treatable. Each of us is different, but through
our ongoing attention, we learn which remedies work best. Caring for depression
is a compassionate practice that cultivates insight, patience, responsiveness, and
loving kindness. As we continue to practice meditation and skillful means, we
find that our sense of interconnectedness and compassion naturally extend to
all beings with whom we intimately share this life. Caring for depression is
nothing to be ashamed of. It is a powerful way to manifest our bodhisattva vow
to save all beings.
*Please note that clinical depression is a medical condition. This article is
not intended to provide or replace treatment for those who may suffer from
clinical depression or other forms of mental illness. If you are in need of
help, you can call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK
(8255) to access free, 24/7 confidential service for people in suicidal crisis
or emotional distress, or those around them. The Lifeline provides support,
information, and local resources. You can also text the Crisis Text Line at
741-741 for free 24/7 support with a trained crisis counselor right away.
Nhận xét
Đăng nhận xét