Anatta and the Crisis of Identity

In my previous blog post I talked about anatta, a central pillar of Buddhist belief which rejects the idea of the self or ego, and how scientific interpretations of the mind vindicate this idea, or at least can work in conjunction with it. I also talked about meditation as the method by which this detachment from the self occurs. Arguing that at least to a degree, embracing this idea can lead to better mental health, reducing anxiety and perhaps depression. Our faculties for worrying about the past and future are reduced because we see ourselves less as a rigid entity moving through time and more as a perceiver of the present.

While the west is waking up to the benefits of meditation, and uptake into mindfulness classes explodes, there are a minority of cases where people who have undergone meditation classes are experiencing psychological trauma. A theme of ‘depersonalisation’, the feeling that one is observing one’s self as if they are a character in a film has popped up in rare cases where individuals are experiencing crisis of identity post-meditation. As meditation gains popularity, the scope of its influence will increase, meaning that vulnerable individuals with mental illnesses may be exposed to this quite powerful mental tool. Sure, the majority of people would benefit from a sprinkling of meditation into their daily lives, but this highlights the awareness that practitioners should have, knowledge of when to perhaps suggest specialist help for people who are trying to combat depression and other mental illnesses through meditation.

There is no cause for immediate concern. The majority of these cases tend to occur after prolonged meditation, where beginners are thrown into multiple week long retreats, so a gradual introduction into your life is not going to cause irrevocable harm. But if you are thinking about taking part in a meditation course, it would be wise to choose one where you are fully confident in the abilities of your teacher, experience really is a must.

But this phenomenon of people losing their own sense of identity is not all that surprising when we look at the feelings that meditation is actually trying to induce (anatta), and how reliant people have become on their perceptions of themselves and the perceptions that others have of them (their ego). The fostering of narcissism in today’s society, where success is nearly if not always defined by popularity lies in abject contrast to the letting go of egocentrism. Perhaps these cases of ‘depersonalisation’ are a microcosm of a larger issue. Imagine working your entire life to build a reputation for yourself, only to then start meditating and realise that the idea you have of who you are is somewhat an illusion, you are going to question what it was all worth and maybe experience something like the clichéd midlife crisis. We can see some perhaps implicit dangers of meditation for those who have grown with a notion of the self as unchanging. It is not dissimilar to the notion of ‘unplugging’ in the Matrix films. Older individuals became so reliant on the system (which was an illusion), that to thrust them out of the reality they know intimately would be psychologically catastrophic, so they reframed for emancipating people who they thought were vulnerable. Similarly, unveiling that the self does not exist to individuals heavily invested in the idea of themselves could be equally detrimental.

Further reading on the topic: http://shinzenyoung.blogspot.co.nz/2011/11/dark-night.html

Scientific and Buddhist Interpretations of the Self

For most, the experience of consciousness is analogous to the feeling of being a centralised ego within our heads, a passenger inside our bodies, thinker of thoughts in addition to our experiences. But this sense of being the captain of our own ship, steering the vehicle of ourselves on a road through life is where most of us start intuitively when we begin to ask questions about the nature of the self and what you define as you. A largely Cartesian picture of mind and body as separate emerges through this introspection. We don’t feel like we are identical to our bodies, we feel we have bodies, and that sense of having a centralised locus of thought, an ego inside the mind is all too familiar. But with our current understanding of the mind, this apparent a priori intuition that this impervious self exists is unveiled as an illusion, there is no centre for consciousness in our brain. Our reality spawns from interaction between different malleable parts and a myriad of process spread across our brains. Not only do we know that this perceived centre for experience is anatomically fictitious, but that we can escape this illusion, and that people have been doing so for thousands of years.

The Buddhist belief of anatta, the perception of there not being a self, is attained by the rejection of the idea that we remain the same person moment to moment. But when the idea is scrutinised of there being an unchanging identity of whom we define as ourselves, it is easy to see its flaws. Try and think of something you wrote five years ago, that person with all of their convictions, assumptions, perceptions, almost their entire world-view has altered in some way. So how can we say that it was written by the same person that you are now? The mind is in a constant liquid state of change, and as events occur in your life the ripples change the composition into something new, a different person.

For Buddhism, anatta is reachable through meditation, and this relies on the premise that the mind is susceptible to change. By meditating, it is known that neural pathways can drastically alter. This is only made possible by the plastic nature of our neurology and scientists think they have seen the physiology of our minds reoriented in the process of meditation. The idea that the brain changes and adapts to variations in environment, thinking, behaviour, emotions, and bodily injury, has replaced the prior position that the brain is in a physiologically fixed state. A concrete conception of the self moving through time is at odds with how we now know the brain functions.

Why might this state of mind be desirable you may ask? If we aren’t really the same person moving through time, doesn’t that take away some of the authenticity from our relationships? Living in the present and refraining from trying to stay within the rigid confines of who you define as yourself will actually create a more authentic sense of self, adapting to events as they unfold in your life, which mirrors how the brain actually grows and develops. People often remark on the consciously calm, compassionate, and collected manner of those who have practised meditation and shaped their perception based on the tenant of anatta. A sense of tranquil equanimity for those who are less reactionary to the emotiveness of life is a by product when we take things less personally and lose sight of a self which we constantly have to maintain rather than just let exist.

Photo courtesy of Nick Stringer.

Clash of the Worldviews: Part 2

You will understand then, that it was exceptionally refreshing to hear a religious leader say, “If Science proves some belief of Buddhism wrong, then Buddhism will have to change.” Buddhism is unique. It asks the devotee to examine its central ideas critically, and arrival at accepting these ideas is not attained through textual interpretation but rather experiential confirmation. And once these experiences start to work in tandem with our scientific understanding, we have pretty good reason to suggest these ideas are based in reality. A philosophy of the mind seems like a more accurate label.

I’m not saying Buddhism is right, and everyone should drop everything they are doing and start meditating. I’m saying that the polarising framework of how debates surrounding the biggest questions we ask ourselves is exhausting. Who are we? What is the external world? While the neuroscientist and the physicist can tell us the mechanistic basis for these questions, they also address a weakness in the scientific method. The more and more we break down the underlying physical processes of the universe, the less likely we seem to be able to describe the most complex phenomena like consciousness. Science starts from a reductionist position and then tries to extrapolate. While something like Buddhism starts from the subjective experience of the human condition (exactly what science is trying to reduce). Each respective epistemology should be informed by the other. A spiritualistic explanation can tell us what it is like to be human, while science can tell us how this may arise.

Photo Credit: Jon Reis Photography

Can Meditation Enhance Creativity?

A reoccurring theme of my previous blog entries has been the notion that practicing meditation can actually alter the physiological make-up of the brain. If new neural pathways and modes of thought are now opening up for a person who has slid some meditation into their daily regime, then could this contribute to or increase that person’s propensity for creativity? It seems to make sense by way of inference that if someone’s brain state has changed then new avenues of thought that were once inaccessible could now take place, enhancing that individuals creative bag of tricks. It is as if we have updated and innovated the hard-drives and information processors of our bodies, resulting in a new way to interpret ourselves and the external world around us. But does this idea have any scientific pillars supporting its weighty hypothesis?

So, if we wanted to try to measure a potential increase in creativity, how could we possibly go about quantifying such a thing? Creativity’s nature is quite elusive to try to articulate. There are two intriguing methods, however, in trying to pin down a measure of creativity. These are the Alternate Uses Task method which analyses divergent thinking and the Remote Associates Task method which covers convergent thinking. An example of divergent thinking is if we tried to think of as many possible practical purposes for say, a paper clip. Convergent thinking would be like trying to solve a problem using a set of specific tools, or finding a common denominator in a set of given objects or ideas. Each types of thinking are central ingredients in the creative soup.

A particular study attempted to measure if these two facets of creativity were in any way affected if participants had engaged in meditation prior to performing these tasks. It compared two different types of meditation. Focused attention meditation, where you focus on a specific object or sensation and open monitoring meditation, where there is even distribution of attention given to sensations felt within the meditative process. Subjects who participated had varying levels of experience in meditation, ranging for first-timers to ‘gurus’. It yielded some surprising results. Those who had engaged in open monitoring meditation prior to the test scored significantly higher in the divergent thinking task, increasing their ability to conceive of multiple uses for common objects. The focused attention group were expected to perform better in the convergent thinking task but surprisingly did not. It is easy to see why the researchers thought that the open monitoring meditation would influence their divergent thinking task as each requires a multiplicity of thought tangents, they also thought that the focused attention group would score higher on the convergent thinking task, as it requires elongated focus on a particular concept, something that would feasibly be beneficial to solving a task which requires lengthy attention to solve a specific problem.

While the research on the links between meditation and creativity are illuminating, this particular field of inquiry is still in its relative infancy. And as I mentioned earlier, the complexity of what we define as creativity draws us to the limitations of trying to find tangible links between meditation and increased creative thought. There are many more approaches in describing the definitive aspects of creativity. However, the study was able to show that different methods of meditation have varying effects on cognitive processing and link open monitoring meditation where attention is evenly distributed to divergent thinking and malleable states of mind. It would be certainly wise to watch this space.

Photo Courtesy of Nick Stringer.

Diverging from Personal Narratives

It is rare, even when we have nothing to do or are performing a bland automatic task, to pause and feel the present. We almost instantly introspect, venturing back in time to make sense of some past life event, or scurry forward to some foreseeable future obstacle conceiving of possible avenues to resolution. Think about it, the last time you painted a house, drove a considerable distance, or took a sizeable stroll, your mind may have initially been on the task at hand but then it inevitably would have veered off to resurrect whatever daydream lay dormant in your mind. And this invariably gives us the perspective that we are the protagonists in the narrative of our lives. We are all the Leonardo Dicaprios of our own subjective blockbusters. In a sense, people are suckers to the psychological mechanisms which are constantly trying to storify our lives. A specific region of the brain (the midline of the cerebral cortex) has been associated with this storification, which shows increased activity when people literally just stop and think. It is known as the ‘default mode network’.

This default mode network functions as a point of self-reference, creating personal narratives past, present and future. However, meditation opens up an alternate avenue of the brain. Rather than the usual default mode lighting up, a more lateral region associated with the insular cortex boasts heightened activity. Conversely, the insular cortex functions without the linear time-based narrative the default mode network relies on. So without this temporal reference point, the insular cortex accentuates the awareness of the body’s present state, which is unsurprising since that this is pretty much analogous to what meditation practically teaches. The expansion of the rib cage as you breath in, gravity pulling you towards the earth’s centre, a gentle breeze rustling through your hair, come to the forefront of experience, lacking the self-syllabus that we usually succumb to. By constantly flexing (through meditation) the insular cortex region of the brain, it begins to have a more prominent role in our everyday experiencing of consciousness.

A lot of the anxiety that human beings experience is caused by this inclination to worry about the future, and getting stuck in the psychoanalysis of past events that have reshaped us. So, in a way, that storification of our lives, to place ourselves on this narrative trajectory, can be destructive to mental well-being. However, by implementing meditation into your life the intangibles of past and future become less pronounced, while the present becomes enhanced. For sufferers of anxiety about the past and future, mindfulness meditation could be your antidote.

Getting Started: Focusing on the Present

My first attempts to meditate were a lot like my first attempts to read long-form literature. The mind wanders, and tangents of thought are often the first obstacle when trying to obtain the concentration needed for effective meditation. Breathing in and out is usually a function we execute subconsciously. So it is easy to see that we are vulnerable to go astray when we put our focus on breathing (initially a mundane task) to the forefront of our conscious experience. It is not so much a focus on breathing, but rather an awareness of the sensations that breathing brings. This focus on the body’s present state is quickly replaced by reflection of the day’s events, interactions, and whatever else is currently plaguing the mind, drowning in our own personal narrative. Unsurprising, as this is usually what happens when we pause for introspection in our frantic daily lives. But there are some useful ways to overcome this initial susceptibility to distraction.

We are ritualistic creatures and usually perform our tasks more efficiently in the context of a routine. So, find a space that you can specifically devote to meditating. It doesn’t need to have anything special, just somewhere that is quiet and comfortable. Light some incense. Once you have identified an appropriate space, then as you practice, it will become easier to get into the mindset for meditation.

Blood flows more freely and breathing is more effective when you have better posture. Keep your spine as upright as possible and your neck straight which will pave a clean path for oxygen-rich blood to flow into your brain. It is also important to note that our psychological states are largely physiologically embodied; our minds and bodies are in unison. So if you are slouching then you are going to be more susceptible to distraction during the meditation process. A composed body will translate to a composed mind.

It is inevitable that during the first few attempts to meditate, your train of thought will deviate from your focus on breathing. This technique of concentration on the breath is a way to align your thought process with the body’s present state. But it is important when these meandering thoughts occur to not get ruffled up, rather recognise their presence and that it is natural to get distracted, and then slowly return focus to inhaling and exhaling. This should help to overcome the initial frustration or defeatist attitude that often arises when people first give meditation a crack. And don’t worry, as little as five minutes per session is enough to start off with, and once your focus becomes more trained, you can start practicing for longer and longer periods. The potential benefits of perseverance make any initial complacency worthwhile.

Meditation: Harnessing the Fluidity of the Mind

Meditation and its benefits rely on the ability of the brain to change. Neuroplasticity, the now overriding central dogma of how we understand the mind to work has replaced the theory that the brain remained largely static post-adolescence. A paradigm shift in how we understood the brain occurred. Neural pathways are constantly being removed and recreated as we interact with our environment. Much like a mountain bike track, if a neural pathway gets used more often it becomes easier to navigate as the path is strengthened, but if it is abandoned it becomes overgrown and hard to find your way. In fact, it is not just the environment that we are presented with which has implications in the way our brains change, but it is also our behaviour, thoughts, and emotions which shape and contort the metamorphosing control centre of our bodies.

An astonishing consequence of the neuroplastic nature of the brain is that activity (in a certain location) which is associated with a specific function (say eyesight or memory) can move places. This has yielded beneficial consequences for those suffering from brain injury. Experiential therapeutic programmes have been designed to rehabilitate patients who have lost vision, motor functions, and other injuries inflicted by their personal circumstances. How we decide to think can actually have a structural effect on the physical make-up of our brains. Our thoughts are our hands and our brains are the play-dough. This is where meditation enters the fray.

The practice of meditation (consciously focusing on breathing, something that we usually do subconsciously) has been connected to variations in the density of grey matter (brain stuff). Studies have been undertaken with the help of the Dalai Lama on the ways that meditation can structurally alter our minds. Their results, at least for the Dalai Lama, were not surprising. Regions affiliated with anxiousness, depression, and anger showed differing levels of activity compared to participants in the study who did not mediate. Differences were even noticeable for those who had relatively little meditative experience. As well as showing structural evidence for their changed states of mind (through brain scans), participants qualitatively relayed that they felt diminished anxiety, and emotions which relate to areas where differences had occurred.

While it still be categorised as an alternative method to alleviate unwanted psychological traits like depression, anxiety and fear, there is good scientific reason to take meditation at face value. Meditation’s central ideological pillar of the changing mind has been vindicated in the contemporary research of neuroscientists. Thousands of years of experiential research by monks and meditaters alike is only now being corroborated by the scientific investigation of our minds. Now that I have a vague idea of the mechanisms which allow the benefits of meditation work, I am going delve into my own experiment. With limited meditative experience I am going to see if I can embody some of these cognitive perks by undertaking regular meditation sessions each week and then elaborating on my results in further blog updates.

Photo Credit: Nick Stringer

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