Loosening Up (Analytical Mind Series)
This essay continues our exploration of the analytical mind in relation to Dharma practice. There are two earlier pieces, linked from this page. The word “analyze” is based on the root “lyein,” to loosen, and the prefix ana-, which can mean up or out. So, to analyze is to “loosen up.” We tease apart different aspects of something.
This teasing-apart is a crucial aspect of practice, right up to the moment of awakening. But practitioners may get confused because it is also one of the main functions of thinking. We need to distinguish thought-based analysis from what might be called Dharma analysis. The former is fairly one-dimensional and familiar, while the latter is multifaceted and may need to be pointed out and developed.
When we think about things, we turn them over, sort through the component parts, trace possible trajectories, and explore meaning. This teasing-apart is essentially the manipulation of abstract concepts.
While thought-based analysis might suffice for figuring out how to fix a broken handle, we need more intimate knowledge to discern how to write a sensitive email to a friend. In that case, I would consider my care for them as well as my understanding of what words will feel unthreatening and helpful to them. In other cases, I might notice that my body does not feel settled with certain choices, whereas it relaxes when I act with integrity. Including feedback from our mind and body, even in mundane situations, starts to point toward what is meant by Dharma analysis.
In the Buddhist teachings, there is a quality called “investigation” – in Pali, dhamma-vicaya – which employs analysis in service of the path. That is, investigation is a special kind of analysis that supports the unfolding of Buddhist practice. Gaining experience with investigation, which includes multiple ways of loosening up, begins to uproot the overreliance on abstract and discursive thought that is encouraged by the way we live in the modern world.
Consider an exercise that I’ve led many people through. It consists of three phases of observing a simple object that is placed on the table before them. The object might be a pottery bowl, a folded scarf, or a tin mug – the exact item is not important. Only seeing is used, not touch or other senses. People are asked to privately write down words about what they are observing, but will not have to share them. In the first phase, they observe it from a “neutral” perspective, recording features that others would also be able to see, such as color, size, shape, material, and surface gloss.
In the second phase, they continue to observe the same object, but also include their mental experience as part of the picture. They might note that a particular shade of blue feels peaceful, or that the monochrome handle looks “boring” compared to the patterned body of the cup. The item might evoke a memory, such as a simple recognition that a friend has a similar scarf, or even a full-blown story about a childhood experience. There may be projections about what kind of person made the object. Participants must be careful not to get lost in thought trails, but record only the immediate mental experience that accompanies observing the object.
In the third phase, the body is included. There may be heat, tension, a narrowing or expansion of the visual field, tingling, or other sensations. It may be difficult to know which sensations are associated with observing the object and which arise from other conditions that are present, but no matter the source, there are many physical experiences occurring while the exercise proceeds. These too are recorded.
Afterward, we reflect on the three phases, which represent different modes of seeing. People sometimes comment on how different it was to include their own mind and body compared to the initial phase of finding qualities that others could also observe. Often people discover that they have a clear preference about which is easier to include, their mind or their body. This is useful information about where we may need to develop awareness.
The first mode is similar to scientific observation with its idea of an “objective” view. The object stands alone, independent of the observer. The second and third modes, which include aspects of the mind and body of the observer, are more like Dharma investigation. We are affected by what we are observing, attuned to it with our whole being.
We could also liken the first mode to knowing by thinking. Thinking assumes that what it thinks “about” is detached from thought itself. The second and third could be likened to knowing in ways that include things other than thought.
The point of the exercise is to experience these various ways of knowing, which many people have not clearly distinguished before. We can then use this understanding to inform how we interact with experience in meditation.
Recall that the word “analyze” means to loosen up or to tease apart. There are a number of useful distinctions that can be made in meditation. We can see that the mind and the body are different. The object and the knowing of the object are different. More finely, we start to differentiate the five aggregates in experience – materiality, feeling tone, perception, volitional formations, and consciousness. There are other ways of structuring experience also, such as those in the 4th establishment of mindfulness (from MN 10). It is not an accident that this establishment is called “mindfulness directed to dhammas,” while investigation is dhamma-vicaya (lit. “investigation of dhammas”).
This “distinguishing” is integral to what is called vipassana – clear seeing, or a special type of intensified seeing. It is closely connected to wisdom. Experience is no longer a solid mass or a “wash” of vague qualities, but has distinct features that relate in lawful ways.
We are learning through this loosening-up process. But this learning is not accumulating data, as the thought-based analytical mind might like to do. It is more intuitive, non-linear, and even non-conceptual. In addition, meditation instructions point toward tranquilizing the body and calming and gathering the mind. This means moving toward states that are less agitating. As we see the components of the mind and body, we incline toward the more easeful ones. It can be done deliberately, but is also felt to be a natural movement.
Investigation is one of the seven factors of awakening. It is a factor that uplifts and energizes the mind. The list also includes factors that calm and stabilize the mind. When both the energizing and the calming factors are strong, the mind feels fit and balanced, sharp and settled. (The suttas say it this way: “My mind was purified, bright, unblemished, rid of imperfection, malleable, wieldy, steady, and attained to imperturbability”).
At some point in developing these factors (even if they are not yet perfected), there is no need to seek finer distinction through investigation. Further “loosening” would become tightening.
When we get to this point for the first time, we may be surprised to realize that there is nothing in our mental activity resembling typical cognition. We are still knowing – vividly, in fact. But it is a non-analytic, non-thought-based knowing. Seeing this is one of the best ways to relax our desperate grasping to thought. The mind needs to be convinced that this is actually possible and that it doesn’t die without thought. Calm, concentration, and even just deep body awareness – these kinds of direct evidence can start to uproot the belief in thought.
As the mind learns that surface-level thought is not required, and indeed there is great happiness and calm without it, it does not lose the ability to think well. Rather, it gains discernment about when thought is needed and when it is not. It is more willing to let go of thinking as the primary way of knowing. This begins to correct misunderstandings about what is going on in this human life.
Sometimes the mind can experience a radical shift of knowing. Here is a description from a Zen teacher of an awakening experience he had early in life that sparked his spiritual journey. He was on a beach at sunset.
~~~
I was really staring at the light on the water. It was nearly sunset, and the sun was low, such that there was a path of light across the water. Looking at it, I realized it was composed of these scales of light shifting around. And the scales of light were blindingly bright – bright, bright white. But as they were moving, I realized that what they were moving over was utterly, utterly black. So there was a contrast between dazzling brightness and utter blackness. And I thought, What color is the water? Which is it? And then I thought, “Water is basically transparent, and so is air, so what’s this surface between them? It’s where two transparent media meet. And yet it’s so visible! But is it black? Is it white?” I was pondering this, and as I was doing so – suddenly, like wham, it wasn’t outside of me. This vision and I myself were inseparable.
It was like going through a little portal. Suddenly the whole universe seemed to be simply nothing. And it was all completely present.
I would have dismissed it with my rational mind, given the philosophical bent I had at that time… but it came with a powerful force of truth. It said, “This is real,” meaning more real than I normally experienced things.
~~~
It is a little bit odd to analyze an awakening experience, but in light of the topic of this essay, let’s have a look at some of the components of it.
Notice that he was highly attuned to the details of the sunlight on the water, clearly distinguishing the play of colors and motion. His mind even brought in some factual knowledge – water and air are transparent – and combined it with his experience of the moment to “ponder” the question of the interface between them. His mind was sharp, present, and open.
Notice also what did not happen: He did not pick up the idea of water being transparent and turn it into a scientific question of how photons interact with H2O molecules. Nor did he bring in any memories or reveries about other times he had been to the beach or seen a sunset. He did not form a self that was observing the sunset – a stance where he might have wanted to photograph it or remember it in order to tell others.
No. There was a form of Dharma investigation going on, and it even included some light thinking, combined with openness and focus. He distinguished in his direct experience certain relevant components – “relevant” meaning the ones that could form a gate for his mind to open up. That is the function of our ability to tease things apart: To notice the aspects of experience that lead out of our everyday, clouded way of seeing.
Sometimes we analyze too little, accepting the “wash” of experience according to habitual patterns, rather than sharpening up, being interested, and seeing afresh. Sometimes we analyze too much, digging too deeply or bringing in abstractions that only alienate us from being intimate and fully present for what is here. And often we simply analyze incorrectly, attending to details that aren’t relevant for the path.
The “mind of Dharma” attunes to the right details, at the right level of sharpness. As teacher John Travis said, “We get good at hanging around the gate – and sometimes the gate opens.” The opening can’t be formulated or willed; it is always a moment of grace when it occurs. It may well occur spontaneously on a beach at sunset. However, spiritual teachings and practices predispose the mind toward such openings, and also help to integrate and stabilize awakening experiences into the whole of life.
We can’t get there using surface-level thought. There must be an inclusion of mind and body, and the development of a particular perspective. For most of us, that means training. I also favor engaging with texts. But a key requirement is to learn to let go of the heavy reliance on thinking as a way of knowing. Perhaps this gives a glimpse of how to do that, and of the possible fruit.
This essay continues our exploration of the analytical mind in relation to Dharma practice. There are two earlier pieces, linked from this page. The word “analyze” is based on the root “lyein,” to loosen, and the prefix ana-, which can mean up or out. So, to analyze is to “loosen up.” We tease apart different aspects of something.
This teasing-apart is a crucial aspect of practice, right up to the moment of awakening. But practitioners may get confused because it is also one of the main functions of thinking. We need to distinguish thought-based analysis from what might be called Dharma analysis. The former is fairly one-dimensional and familiar, while the latter is multifaceted and may need to be pointed out and developed.
When we think about things, we turn them over, sort through the component parts, trace possible trajectories, and explore meaning. This teasing-apart is essentially the manipulation of abstract concepts.
While thought-based analysis might suffice for figuring out how to fix a broken handle, we need more intimate knowledge to discern how to write a sensitive email to a friend. In that case, I would consider my care for them as well as my understanding of what words will feel unthreatening and helpful to them. In other cases, I might notice that my body does not feel settled with certain choices, whereas it relaxes when I act with integrity. Including feedback from our mind and body, even in mundane situations, starts to point toward what is meant by Dharma analysis.
In the Buddhist teachings, there is a quality called “investigation” – in Pali, dhamma-vicaya – which employs analysis in service of the path. That is, investigation is a special kind of analysis that supports the unfolding of Buddhist practice. Gaining experience with investigation, which includes multiple ways of loosening up, begins to uproot the overreliance on abstract and discursive thought that is encouraged by the way we live in the modern world.
Consider an exercise that I’ve led many people through. It consists of three phases of observing a simple object that is placed on the table before them. The object might be a pottery bowl, a folded scarf, or a tin mug – the exact item is not important. Only seeing is used, not touch or other senses. People are asked to privately write down words about what they are observing, but will not have to share them. In the first phase, they observe it from a “neutral” perspective, recording features that others would also be able to see, such as color, size, shape, material, and surface gloss.
In the second phase, they continue to observe the same object, but also include their mental experience as part of the picture. They might note that a particular shade of blue feels peaceful, or that the monochrome handle looks “boring” compared to the patterned body of the cup. The item might evoke a memory, such as a simple recognition that a friend has a similar scarf, or even a full-blown story about a childhood experience. There may be projections about what kind of person made the object. Participants must be careful not to get lost in thought trails, but record only the immediate mental experience that accompanies observing the object.
In the third phase, the body is included. There may be heat, tension, a narrowing or expansion of the visual field, tingling, or other sensations. It may be difficult to know which sensations are associated with observing the object and which arise from other conditions that are present, but no matter the source, there are many physical experiences occurring while the exercise proceeds. These too are recorded.
Afterward, we reflect on the three phases, which represent different modes of seeing. People sometimes comment on how different it was to include their own mind and body compared to the initial phase of finding qualities that others could also observe. Often people discover that they have a clear preference about which is easier to include, their mind or their body. This is useful information about where we may need to develop awareness.
The first mode is similar to scientific observation with its idea of an “objective” view. The object stands alone, independent of the observer. The second and third modes, which include aspects of the mind and body of the observer, are more like Dharma investigation. We are affected by what we are observing, attuned to it with our whole being.
We could also liken the first mode to knowing by thinking. Thinking assumes that what it thinks “about” is detached from thought itself. The second and third could be likened to knowing in ways that include things other than thought.
The point of the exercise is to experience these various ways of knowing, which many people have not clearly distinguished before. We can then use this understanding to inform how we interact with experience in meditation.
Recall that the word “analyze” means to loosen up or to tease apart. There are a number of useful distinctions that can be made in meditation. We can see that the mind and the body are different. The object and the knowing of the object are different. More finely, we start to differentiate the five aggregates in experience – materiality, feeling tone, perception, volitional formations, and consciousness. There are other ways of structuring experience also, such as those in the 4th establishment of mindfulness (from MN 10). It is not an accident that this establishment is called “mindfulness directed to dhammas,” while investigation is dhamma-vicaya (lit. “investigation of dhammas”).
This “distinguishing” is integral to what is called vipassana – clear seeing, or a special type of intensified seeing. It is closely connected to wisdom. Experience is no longer a solid mass or a “wash” of vague qualities, but has distinct features that relate in lawful ways.
We are learning through this loosening-up process. But this learning is not accumulating data, as the thought-based analytical mind might like to do. It is more intuitive, non-linear, and even non-conceptual. In addition, meditation instructions point toward tranquilizing the body and calming and gathering the mind. This means moving toward states that are less agitating. As we see the components of the mind and body, we incline toward the more easeful ones. It can be done deliberately, but is also felt to be a natural movement.
Investigation is one of the seven factors of awakening. It is a factor that uplifts and energizes the mind. The list also includes factors that calm and stabilize the mind. When both the energizing and the calming factors are strong, the mind feels fit and balanced, sharp and settled. (The suttas say it this way: “My mind was purified, bright, unblemished, rid of imperfection, malleable, wieldy, steady, and attained to imperturbability”).
At some point in developing these factors (even if they are not yet perfected), there is no need to seek finer distinction through investigation. Further “loosening” would become tightening.
When we get to this point for the first time, we may be surprised to realize that there is nothing in our mental activity resembling typical cognition. We are still knowing – vividly, in fact. But it is a non-analytic, non-thought-based knowing. Seeing this is one of the best ways to relax our desperate grasping to thought. The mind needs to be convinced that this is actually possible and that it doesn’t die without thought. Calm, concentration, and even just deep body awareness – these kinds of direct evidence can start to uproot the belief in thought.
As the mind learns that surface-level thought is not required, and indeed there is great happiness and calm without it, it does not lose the ability to think well. Rather, it gains discernment about when thought is needed and when it is not. It is more willing to let go of thinking as the primary way of knowing. This begins to correct misunderstandings about what is going on in this human life.
Sometimes the mind can experience a radical shift of knowing. Here is a description from a Zen teacher of an awakening experience he had early in life that sparked his spiritual journey. He was on a beach at sunset.
~~~
I was really staring at the light on the water. It was nearly sunset, and the sun was low, such that there was a path of light across the water. Looking at it, I realized it was composed of these scales of light shifting around. And the scales of light were blindingly bright – bright, bright white. But as they were moving, I realized that what they were moving over was utterly, utterly black. So there was a contrast between dazzling brightness and utter blackness. And I thought, What color is the water? Which is it? And then I thought, “Water is basically transparent, and so is air, so what’s this surface between them? It’s where two transparent media meet. And yet it’s so visible! But is it black? Is it white?” I was pondering this, and as I was doing so – suddenly, like wham, it wasn’t outside of me. This vision and I myself were inseparable.
It was like going through a little portal. Suddenly the whole universe seemed to be simply nothing. And it was all completely present.
I would have dismissed it with my rational mind, given the philosophical bent I had at that time… but it came with a powerful force of truth. It said, “This is real,” meaning more real than I normally experienced things.
~~~
It is a little bit odd to analyze an awakening experience, but in light of the topic of this essay, let’s have a look at some of the components of it.
Notice that he was highly attuned to the details of the sunlight on the water, clearly distinguishing the play of colors and motion. His mind even brought in some factual knowledge – water and air are transparent – and combined it with his experience of the moment to “ponder” the question of the interface between them. His mind was sharp, present, and open.
Notice also what did not happen: He did not pick up the idea of water being transparent and turn it into a scientific question of how photons interact with H2O molecules. Nor did he bring in any memories or reveries about other times he had been to the beach or seen a sunset. He did not form a self that was observing the sunset – a stance where he might have wanted to photograph it or remember it in order to tell others.
No. There was a form of Dharma investigation going on, and it even included some light thinking, combined with openness and focus. He distinguished in his direct experience certain relevant components – “relevant” meaning the ones that could form a gate for his mind to open up. That is the function of our ability to tease things apart: To notice the aspects of experience that lead out of our everyday, clouded way of seeing.
Sometimes we analyze too little, accepting the “wash” of experience according to habitual patterns, rather than sharpening up, being interested, and seeing afresh. Sometimes we analyze too much, digging too deeply or bringing in abstractions that only alienate us from being intimate and fully present for what is here. And often we simply analyze incorrectly, attending to details that aren’t relevant for the path.
The “mind of Dharma” attunes to the right details, at the right level of sharpness. As teacher John Travis said, “We get good at hanging around the gate – and sometimes the gate opens.” The opening can’t be formulated or willed; it is always a moment of grace when it occurs. It may well occur spontaneously on a beach at sunset. However, spiritual teachings and practices predispose the mind toward such openings, and also help to integrate and stabilize awakening experiences into the whole of life.
We can’t get there using surface-level thought. There must be an inclusion of mind and body, and the development of a particular perspective. For most of us, that means training. I also favor engaging with texts. But a key requirement is to learn to let go of the heavy reliance on thinking as a way of knowing. Perhaps this gives a glimpse of how to do that, and of the possible fruit.
