Questions & Answers

This is a post from Fran, and I've moved it here so more people will see it.

FRAN: "Greetings of peace. I have been intrigued by our recent practice of Tonglen, but realizing that I need additional guidance, am reaching out to Alistair and other Mindspringers for their perspectives. I think that a practice that encourages compassion, empathy and connectedness, especially in this broken world, is beautiful. To breathe in the pain of others, while confronting deep suffering rather than avoiding it, could be incredibly positive. But what of those for whom breathing in pain, and confronting their own suffering is greatly distressing, risky and triggering? I am one of them. In my work as an imama, I often sit with those in profound suffering. I also have a history of anxiety and depression. To be guided in this practice and to breathe in the suffering of others is very close to being overwhelming for me, and borders on triggering traumatic memories. Is this healthy? And what of those who deal with bipolar disorder and other serious mental challenges. Is the risk of this practice too great? I would appreciate your perspectives, and thank you for considering my questions."

Ignatio left a wonderful comment under the original post, so I'll add that here:

IGNATIO: "I learnt Tonglen from my Buddhist teacher and I also suffered from anxiety and depression for a long time; nevertheless, Tonglen helps not only the ones you are doing it for, but also yourself. When my mother was dying, fully aware that she was going to die, she told me: "please help me free myself from this anguish." I immediately began to absorb all her suffering into my heart, I visualized a radiant light transmuting the pain into light and shining that light back to her. When she passed, surrounded by her whole family, she was calm and, with her eyes open, she exhaled her last breath. Now, whenever I feel some conflicting emotion, I imagine that I breath into my heart the pain and sorrow of all those who are going through something similar and a bright light transmutes the pain into light that I shine back toward all beings. Now, I don't know if someone with bipolar dirorder would benefit from doing it, but you should not be afraid to practice it; the grace of Allah will guide and protect you."

And then I replied with my tuppence worth:

"Dear Fran, 

Thank you for your emails and message in the forum. 

After a week of Solstice celebrations, I have a little time to answer. I was hoping to bring your excellent question into the Thursday session, but I’ll answer here too. 

Everyone must, of course, exercise care in picking up any meditation practice. Even the simple act of focusing on the breath is not always simple for people with neurodiversity, for example. And other more suitable practices work with the grain of that neurotype. 

So, I was interested in your question about tonglen. 

There are a few observations I have about what you’ve written. 

1) tonglen is a practice designed to reduce our fear of suffering and our fear of losing pleasant states. It is designed to build up a fearless quality which is precisely needed if we are to take the bodhisattva vow seriously. If we are afraid of suffering and desperate to cling to pleasant states, this will undermine the openness of mind needed to be with all beings - whether they are joyous, suffering, or confused. 

2) tonglen is a meditation practice. That is to say, it’s a practice we do on the cushion for a fixed amount of time to explore and work with our tendencies to contract and clench in fear. It doesn’t mean we have to walk around 24/7 breathing in other people’s pain. That would, as you point out, be overwhelming. We use the practice to soften our habitual patterns of constriction.

3) We are instructed to begin tonglen with ourselves. Using the breath as a superstructure, we practice breathing in (i.e. staying with) our suffering-as-it-is and letting go of our pleasure and ease. We must master this first before working with others. 

4) tonglen is an experiential teaching. That is to say, when we do it, something shifts. If we think about it then we seize up because our conceptual mind solidifies the suffering, the pleasure and the Self. However, if we keep breathing in and out, in and out, then something shifts. I don’t want to say what, because it is experientially different from person to person, but we notice something about the actual nature of ’suffering’ and ‘pleasure’ rather than the concepts attached to those words. 

5) We can begin with something small - the room is too cold, for example, - and breathe in the coldness as suffering and breathe out the comfort of warmth. Starting with something small builds up our confidence in the practice. 

6) In the lojong slogans, it teaches that “tonglen rides the breath". This is the essential element. We are always balancing the suffering coming in with the pleasure going out. The mind is never stuck in one or the other. As soon as we have breathed coldness into us, then we are also passing warmth through our mind out away from us. This is another magic element of tonglen: nothing sticks around. The dark is always alternated with the light. 

7) This is one of the ways that tonglen softens our solid, painful clenching around pain/pleasure. Because, with each breath, we are always engaging with suffering and then with ease-of-suffering, the mind can’t solidify. And over the length of a practice - say, 10 minutes - the suffering we may have begun breathing in with will have changed and transformed and been replaced with new suffering; and the pleasure we have been giving away with the out breath has likewise passed through multiple changes. I have spent several rounds of tonglen breathing in my irritation with tonglen and breathing out the benefits of tonglen! 

8) tonglen is about eroding the mind’s fixation on avoiding pain and grasping pleasure. It is a practice for our habituated minds. It is not a magic practice that sucks the bad energy out of another person into our bodies. Nor does it push our positive energy into other people’s bodies. Its sole purpose is to soften and relax our minds that constantly fear suffering and grasp onto pleasure.

9) One of the ways it does this is by making us aware of the insubstantial nature of ’suffering’ and ‘pleasure’ - as we breathe them in and out, over and over, they become more dreamlike, less solid. We recognise them as more a mind-creation and less a solid thing. Over time our confidence in this becomes stronger and stronger. The heart loses its armouring, and we can move to the second aspect: tonglen for others. 

10) Practising tonglen with another person uses the same meditative technique. Remember this is a meditation, not a healing. You are not actually moving their suffering into your body. Nor are you magically healing their pain. What you are doing is reducing your fear and territoriality around suffering and relief. You are training the mind to welcome the difficult and give away the comforting. So if you know someone is anxious, you might breathe in their anxiety and breathe out joyful confidence. Because you are always immediately sending out the opposite quality, your mind is bathed in both the negative (each time with less fear) and the positive (each time with more free generosity). 

11) Gradually, over time, our mind relaxes. Paradoxically, this meditative immersion in getting pain and losing pleasure makes us less anxious. We have already lost the precious and got the bad, so there’s nothing to fear. 

This last point might address your concern about tonglen overwhelming your already anxious nervous system. In my experience, it has the opposite effect. With sustained practice, starting small, starting with yourself, and then moving to others, the whole mindset of fear of suffering softens into something much more tender, humorous and fearless. 

I hope that goes some way to encouraging you to give the practice a go. 

All best, Alistair