We often hear in practice “What came up for me…” in response
to what another person offered. This is always a bit troubling for me; I am
unable to hear it without a vague since of having ingested something that
didn’t agree with the system, as in “losing one’s lunch.”
Lately we’ve moved to “It just dropped in…” to describe the
experience of insight arriving from beyond the realm of “my doing.” We use this
expression to acknowledge the fact that “this information simply appeared in my
conscious awareness, and my only role was to be present as it arrived.” I
didn’t think of it. I wasn’t the creator of this insight. I didn’t generate it
out of my own, personal brilliance.
This is a very good thing to notice all the time, since
that’s what’s happening all the time. What “I” can contribute is an endless
repetition of previous repetitions. The new stuff, the awarenesses, the
insights, the “ah ha’s” and “oh, I see’s” come from the intelligence that
animates and do not belong in any degree to ego-identity. Standing near an
artist creating a masterpiece doesn’t give me claim to the creation!
In an exchange with someone recently, I heard myself refer
to “anxiety” as “habitual karmic sensations.” (You can see now why the previous
exploration of how information comes to us.) It occurred to me that (a la the
description above) that way of labeling the experience previously called
“anxiety” could be helpful.
Once we get enough associations around a label, such as
anxiety or depression or panic attack, the label itself can produce the dreaded
effects and, worse still, we stop paying attention to what’s actually
happening.
Years ago, I met a former carpenter who was a former
carpenter because he’d cut off three fingers with a circular saw. He told me
that every time he heard a power tool his remaining fingers began to crawl
toward his armpits. That seems to me a perfect description of “habitual karmic
sensations.”
Something happens. A person is upset, traumatized even. The
body registers those sensations. At some point those sensations cease to be
associated with a memory of a trauma
and become the harbinger of a trauma.
Soon the sensations themselves are the producer of the trauma and a person is
living in fear of sensations that produce a fear of sensations.
Now, the above insight just dropped in. I have no proof
there’s any validity to it, but it certainly has a ring of truth, doesn’t it?
And, definitely worth putting to the test of scrutiny through the attentive,
curious attention we call “the spirit of inquiry.”
According to a recent survey, one in five people in the U.S.
is taking a drug for conditions such as depression, attention “deficit,” and
anxiety. Perhaps those numbers wouldn’t be so high if we were encouraged to
drop labels and have a present moment relationship with the sensations in the
body rather than being thrown off into terrifying stories of what those
sensations mean.
In gassho,
Cheri
