Minding the Monkey Mind

                                                      

  Yesterday I worked on a post about the "time heals all wounds" cliche. I got stuck, didn't like what I'd written and put it aside. Before I fell asleep last night I asked my brain and the Universe to come up with something more about the relationship between time and healing so I could finish the post today.
    This morning I woke up with my relationship to my mind and monkey mind at the front of my awareness. Overnight my brain made a wonderful creative leap. I love when that happens.
   I learned about monkey mind when I was in rehab in my early twenties. Until I got clean, I was largely unaware of what went on in my head most of the time. Clean I was confronted with a loud brain. In rehab the brain noise, coupled with a lot of feelings, often kept me awake at night.
   When I got tired of spinning around in my head, I'd get up and talk to the night staff. One of the night shift regulars was a Zen Buddhist named Tom. He introduced me to monkey mind and T.D. Suzuki's Zen Mind, Beginner Mind. Tom's guidance and that book helped me start to befriend my brain.
   Monkey mind is a Buddhist term used to describe the agitated, incessantly restless and easily distracted state of mind. We all have some monkey mind. Until I got clean I wasn't aware of my monkey mind or that most of the time I was listening to it. Listening to it was such an ingrained habit that even when I was doing something else, part of me was still listening.
   That new awareness prompted me to really listen to what my monkey mind said rather than living with it as constant background music. I was startled by how destructive it was. I had no idea how to change that. I spent a couple years at war with my brain while I tried to make the monkey mind stop. I failed completely, but it gave me the opportunity to learn more about how monkey mind works.
     My monkey mind is the voice of fear. It's convinced something "bad" is about to happen or will happen. It remembers every dire warning I've heard about not wearing sunscreen, being in my car if a tornado hits and saying the "wrong" thing. My inner critic and the judgement monster from my shadow are part of monkey mind.
    So is the catastrophe factory in my head. When something unexpected occurs, the catastrophe factory fuels my jump from this minute to worst case scenario. I don't ever jump to it's all going to be fine because I might win a million dollars. I can fling myself to being homeless and pushing a shopping cart down the street talking to myself in seconds.
   The catastrophe factory tries to convince me that no matter how many times I've been helped through rough spots, this is the time the Universe is going to drop kick me. Too bad. You're on your own. Lots of luck.
   During the time I spent at war with my brain, I often described my mind as the thing that was trying to kill me. I was half joking, but that's how I felt. Now I can laugh at my monkey mind, but for years it wasn't funny at all. It took me a while to realize all the energy I was putting into trying to stop my monkey mind was giving it more fuel.
    My brain wasn't the enemy. It's more like an extremely energetic dog that needs a job. If the dog doesn't have something to do, it gets neurotic, self-absorbed and chews up the furniture. I shifted from trying to discipline my monkey mind to giving it something else to do.
    In college I was a double major in philosophy and fine arts. I like playing with ideas. I like creating. When I found myself mulling over a new idea or feeling curious about something, I investigated. That kept my brain busy. I also followed my creativity. I spent hours drawing on my jeans. I got a lot better at origami.
    Unbeknownst to me, I was doing more than redirecting my monkey mind. I was developing a practice of feeding my mind, which I continue to do. I was also strengthening what I call creative mind. I had no idea I was retraining my brain. Yippee for neuroplasticity.
   I've since discovered creative mind is the antidote to monkey mind. When I'm immersed in drawing,writing or some other creative project my thoughts move more like images in dreams than a bored dog chasing its tail. Monkey mind is circular and cyclic. Creative mind goes from A to Q and ends up on Saturn.
   The more time I spent engaging my creative mind, the quieter my monkey mind became...at least that's what I thought was happening. When I stopped check in my monkey mind was still skwaking. I'd just learned the redirect the part of me that was listening to it all the time.
     There's a huge difference in the way monkey mind and my creative mind work. Monkey mind is my brain running off by itself. It drag my heart and emotions with it, but the brain leads. Creative mind is my brain in equal partnership with my heart and intuition. My brain works much better when it doesn't play by itself.
     Supporting my creative mind let me befriend my brain. Over time my creative mind has actually grown stronger than my monkey mind which results in less monkey mind period. Feeding my creative mind invites it to come out and play when I'm not drawing or writing. The fanciful leaps my creativity makes are rarely practical. I've found if I follow the leaps I often end up new solutions to problems and fun ideas. Monkey mind magnifies and manufactures problems. Creative mind dissolves or solves them in interesting ways.
   Monkey mind returns to the same images over and over. Creative mind gives me great surprises. When I'm trying to figure something out I often see a little stick figure scribbling madly on a huge black chalkboard. And monkey mind...that's a tribe of gibbons skipping and whooping in my head after downing a case of Red Bull. Nuf said.

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A Different Look at Addiction

     Writing about shadow for the past few weeks brought me to thinking about addiction. My own journey through addiction is one of the most powerful experiences I've had with shadow. Hitting bottom in my early twenties pushed me to consciously meet my shadow for the first time.
     I went to rehab in the mid eighties when addiction was first coming to forefront in this country. I was the youngest person in treatment. After a few relapses I became willing to go to any lengths to stay clean.
    I went to NA and AA regularly. I got a sponsor and worked all twelve steps several times. I chaired meetings and did service work. I sponsored other addicts. For almost five years I worked as a psych tech in three inpatient rehab centers. NA and AA saved my life.
    I realized pretty early in my recovery that not everyone in meetings was doing recovery the same way. For some not getting high was enough. For others staying clean meant spiritual growth and ongoing change. It was rude awakening to discover that not getting high didn't magically make me different. The baggage I got high to ignore was still there. So was my self-loathing and fear that if anyone really knew who I was, they  wouldn't like me. I needed to be different to live in my own skin.
    I used the twelve steps as a foundation to begin working on me. I also worked with several therapists, both traditional and nontraditional, and explored other forms of spirituality that resonated with me.
    I changed. I lived "clean" for seventeen years. On my fortieth birthday I had a beer. That was not a relapse or a slip. It was a conscious choice made after a year of sitting with the idea. That beer didn't lead to my old addiction coming back to destroy my life.
     When I share that story with people, I am generally met with disbelief, concern or confusion. I once had a retired therapist respond with "So you weren't really an addict." Yes, I was an addict. Addiction is part of my shadow and will always be part of who I am.  Like any of my little monsters, meeting my addiction head on allowed me to create a conscious relationship with it.
   That relationship is what changed in the years I was "clean". When I lived my addiction, my life was about avoiding myself. Now that my life is no longer about avoiding me, substances aren't an issue.
   I heard over and over in twelve step meetings that alcohol and drugs weren't the  problem. My reaction to them and the way I used them was. I experienced the truth of that statement. For many years I transferred my addiction from drugs and alcohol to twelve step programs. That became the focus of my life. I was just as immersed there as I'd been in my using. In the last few years of my involvement with twelve step programs I saw how my using and my focus on not using were equal partners in making my life about addiction.
   I saw the same addiction process to varying degrees people who didn't attend twelve step meetings. This brought me to questioning what addiction is really about. It obviously wasn't as black and white as I believed. Human beings are creatures of habit. In a sense, that makes us all addicts.
   When I looked around in twelve step meetings I could rarely find a single person who was addiction free. They were "clean" and smoked, exercised all the time, drank enormous amounts of coffee, worked 60 hours a week or ate enough sugar to send a mastodon into a diabetic coma. When I looked a bit deeper at the people who seemed eat well all the time and had everything under control, I realized their addiction had transferred to controlling themselves.

     Outside of meetings I met people who were just as addicted to their persona and their image of who they are as a heroine addict is to dope. In the long run that addiction is as self-destructive as alcohol or meth. It's simply more socially acceptable.
    So I can't say the line between habit and addiction is whether or not it becomes self-destructive. I haven't yet met a human being who doesn't cycle through using their favourite escape excessively. Even if it only goes on for a few days or weeks, that excess is a bit self-destructive. The tendency toward self-destruction is an aspect of the human races shadow. I suspect consciously indulging that destructive tendency is a way to give the shadow its due.
    At the height of my addiction, my life was about using. I'd surrendered my life and myself completely to my addiction. Stepping away from the object of that addiction for seventeen years allowed me to rebuild a life that was focused on growth and change rather than on using. I couldn't have done that without meeting what was behind my addiction: self-loathing, fear of who I am, wounding and shadow.
   My addictive personality is part of my shadow. It cannot be removed or destroyed. In my relationship with it I have the choice to deny, avoid or integrate. My choice to deny and avoid my addiction for years only served to feed it. That resulted in me being owned by my addiction. 
   The obsession component of addiction is still a part of who I am. When that little monster comes out to play, I flop down on the couch and watch an entire season of Orphan Black in a day. The flip side of obsession is the ability to single-mindedly focus on one thing for an extended period of time. I use that when I work with clients, when I'm writing and to problem solve. It also strengthens my ability to be the observer and to witness.
    Being creatures of habit, we are all addicts. I wonder if our first addiction isn't to our need for habits which provide stability and comfort in an uncertain world.
    For years I heard "Once an addict, always an addict" in twelve step meetings. I still believe that. Like any other part of my shadow, addiction is mine for life. During my last few years in twelve step meetings I wondered if my focus on staying out of my addiction wasn't just a new way to repress it. I knew there had to be another option beyond living in fear of my addiction and putting constant effort into avoiding it. Use or make your life about not using was too black and white, too much of an either/or.
   There is another option, integration. After nine years drinking socially, my addiction takes up less head space and has less affect on my life than it when I was nine years clean. I'm not about to say this is the best route for all addicts to take. I just know it worked and is working for me.
     I also heard over and over in twelve step meetings "You know what happens to people who stop going to meetings." For years I believed that. But what I really knew is what happened to the people who stopped going to meetings, surrendered again to their addictions and came back. Since stepping away from twelve step programs I've met others who chose integration and have built lives where addiction is a minor player rather an ongoing focus.

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Shadow play: integration

                                                                                         

      
The point of actively engaging your little monsters is to give them a home in your conscious personality rather than letting them rule your unconscious and fuel your persona.

      Personality and persona are two different aspects of you. Personality is the unique package of experience, quirks, preferences, beliefs as well as both emotional and behavioral attitudes that make up you. Persona is the public face you show the world. Persona is essentially a mask. It's your personality filtered through how you want to appear to others, social expectations, societal norms and your wounding. Personality and persona aren't entirely separate, they overlap.
     So what does integrating shadow as a conscious part of who you are look like? That idea may bring up fears about consciously acting out your monsters. In a sense this is what integration looks like, but not literally. Integrating shadow is about mindfully giving the shadow its due. That can be done through ritual, metaphor and vicarious experience.
     Both personal and transpersonal shadow are needed and have their place. Most of us live in societies with both taboos and laws about not killing other people. Those laws and taboos help create a level of social expectation around what will happen when you and another person get into a heated argument. Even if the other person gets angry enough to want to kill you, chances are s/he won't do that.
    Few of us would argue that this constraint, born of shadow, is a bad thing. The distortion occurs when you internalize the taboo against killing someone as taboo against feeling like you want to kill someone.
     We've all heard at least one person say "I could never kill someone." Although that may be how the speaker feels, it isn't true. All of us are capable of killing, but barring extreme or life threatening circumstances, the majority of us choose not to. The statement "I could never kill someone" comes from taking on the taboo, judging it and disowning your ability to kill so completely that you believe you're incapable of doing so.
     Integrating your shadow begins with naming and owning it. You are capable of killing. You and all the other seven billion people on this planet sometimes feel like doing that when you're angry. (Okay, maybe the Dalai Lama doesn't experience that, but the rest of us do.)
     So now what? Murder is a common theme in movies, TV shows and video games. In modern society film, TV shows and video games have become a place for us to act out our shadows. If we're mindful, we can use those forms of media as ritual to vicariously experience acting out this piece of shadow.
    In his book, Owning Your Shadow: Understanding the Dark Side of the Psyche, Robert Johnson talks about ritual as a way to give the shadow its due. The ritual you engage in or create doesn't have to complex or time consuming. It does need to be something you participate in mindfully. In the book, Johnson talks about a couple who uses taking  out the trash as a way to acknowledge shadow. On trash day, whoever had the best week takes out the garbage.
     The desire to kill someone is an extreme but pretty universal example of shadow that brings up a crucial point. We are equally attracted to and repelled by shadow. Accepting and consciously engaging that attraction is part of integration.
     Evidence of our fascination with shadow is everywhere. We see it in how much space virtually every form of news media devotes to stories about criminal activity, disasters and the failings of public figures. Hollywood continues to churn our profitable  horror movies year after year. The longest lines in amusement parks are often for the rides that let us experience stomach plunging fear.
     The tradition of telling ghost stories around a fire or by candle light is still with us after thousands of years. Modern versions of this ritual include the urban legends circulated via chain emails and reality TV shows about ghost hunting.  We even have a holiday devoted entirely to letting the shadow come out and play: Halloween.
    Claiming your fascination with shadow is the beginning of holding darkness and light as a paradox where both are equally valued rather than forcing them to exist in opposition. When two equal forces meet, neither can overwhelm or destroy the other. The tension of this confluence births a new possibility of experiencing all of who you are: body, mind, soul, emotion, energy, darkness and divinity.
     Part of my shadow integration is owning my love of skulls, bones and other scary bits. I was fortunate to work with a therapist who shared my love of bones. Finding out that she and her husband have a life sized human skeleton in their house confirmed for me that she and I were a good match.
     One of my favorite tee shirts is printed with skulls of increasing size. I also have skull socks and underwear. Last year I was delighted to find a bracelet of impermanence beads (little skull beads) in a Tibetan shop in Minneapolis.
     I don't wear any of this because I think I'm a bad ass or want to foster that image. (I am many things....bad ass isn't one of them.) The presence of death and destruction gives life a sense of urgency and adds to its value. My experiences of beauty, "ah-hah" moments, deep connection and contentment are precious because they are temporary. Wearing skulls and bones is way of giving my shadow its due and metaphorically carrying my death with me as a reminder of impermanence.
     Integrating shadow is a life long process. Some days that looks like moment to moment practice of accepting rather than rejecting shadow as it arises. Other days I have more room to play and my shadow gets to pick the movie I watch.
     What happens to us in life is less important than how we live with those experiences. A great deal of the power we have to create our own reality by forming conscious relationships to our experience comes from shadow. If that seems contradictory, think about how powerless you feel when one of your little monsters explodes outward and pushes you to behave in a way you later regret. Integrating your shadow lets you use that power creatively instead of wielding it as a weapon against yourself.

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Shaow play: excavating the gold

      I ended last week's post talking about making a list of your little monsters and pairing them with the complimentary characteristic. Both are part of you. I didn't talk about what actually happens when you take inventory. In theory, taking a shadow inventory is no different than a store owner taking inventory of his stock.
     In practice, the difference is how it feels to take inventory. For the store owner counting cans of peas isn't likely to set off a flood of self-judgement or memories he'd rather avoid. Taking a shadow inventory is pretty much guaranteed to bring you face-to-face with your shadow's uber guardian...judgement.
     Judgement is both part of shadow and its supreme gatekeeper. When you disown a piece of self into shadow, you do so because you've judged it to be bad, wrong, inappropriate or unacceptable. Once that characteristic is part of shadow, your ongoing judgement keeps it there and prevents you from examining it. These judgements show up as self-criticism and fears about what others will think.
     The fear of what other people will think if they know you can be petty, jealous or so angry you want to kill someone is rooted in the judgements you've taken on from friends, family, peers and society at large. Here again you butt up against your lizard brain survival instinct. You need the tribe to survive, so you unconsciously align yourself with the tribe's idea of what is and is not acceptable.
     But the tribe is made of individuals who form smaller groups based on shared values. Your lizard brain only deals in black and white so it doesn't take this distinction into account. Unless you go back and reexamine the judgements you've taken on, you will default to aligning yourself with mass consciousness because it has the loudest voice.
    To excavate the gold in shadow, you need to actively engage the little monsters. As the uber protector of shadow, judgement wants to do its job by capturing your attentions so completely that you don't get any further.
    The judgement monster wants to be heard. Engaging the judgement means listening from a distance as though you're overhearing a conversation from the next room, rather than giving it your full frontal attention as you would a trusted friend.
    Shadow monsters loom large in the darkness of the unconscious. When they are brought into consciousness, they lose their ability to shape shift. Actively engaging the monsters is all about bringing them into consciousness so you can really see what they look like.
    The biggest pitfall in engaging judgement is its ability to hold your attention hostage. From the hostage position you'll believe you're actively engaging your shadow when you're really wallowing and recycling your judgements about your shadow over and over.
    If this sounds like you need to gear up for a battle, let that one go. The ultimate goal of a battle is destruction. Your shadow cannot be destroyed. This is not about annihilating anything. In fact the urge to destroy or annihilate is coming from your shadow and meeting it with equal force will only serve to feed it.
    As you make your list you may be surprised at the ferocity the little monsters you've disowned for years have. Why do the monsters grow when they're rejected? Why doesn't the gold also grow when it's disowned?
    I chewed on those questions for years. After doing a lot of reading, observing my own experience and talking to others who work with shadow, the answer came in a shamanic journey. When I understood what was happening, it was one of those "duh!" moments.
     The dark corners of my unconscious are the ideal environment my little monsters need to thrive. Each time I disown a monster, I send it right back to its favorite place. This is a powerful example of "what you resist persists." In contrast, the shadow gold needs conscious attention to grow. When I reject the gold, I push it into an environment where it can only stay dormant.
     The monsters thrive in unconscious darkness and lose power when brought to consciousness.The shadow gold lays dormant in the dark and grows with mindful attention.
   Acceptance is the antidote to judgement, the complimentary characteristic that balances it. That's the gold. Accepting shadow is one of the most powerful choices a human being can make. That choice opens us to being more compassionate and accepting in the world. Accepting your shadow is an act of self-compassion.
     Acceptance begins with looking the little monsters in the eye and owning them. Yes, this will bring up your judgement. As you listen to what the judgement says, at some point that voice will begin to repeat itself. When the judgement begins saying the same thing over and over, it has no new information to offer.
    This is fine line between active engagement and being held hostage. If you continue to listen to the monsters repetitive litany, your attention will feed it. Rather than rejecting the monster, redirect your attention. Take a walk. Make a gratitude list. Thank the Universe for something. Focus on the times you've practiced acceptance and how that felt. This will feed the gold.
    When the monsters voice becomes too loud and overwhelming, question it. Is this  really true? Why do I believe this about myself? Why do I believe anything this monster says?
    Acceptance of shadow is not about liking it, doing a little happy dance when you meet it or making it emotionally nuetral. You'll probably still feel sad or frustrated when you find yourself acting out your monsters. That's just part of being human.
     Acceptance is acknowledging what is. It's about naming and owning the little monsters without rationalizing, justifying, making excuses or projecting them onto someone else. The moment when you see the little monsters for what they are is the moment when they begin to shrink and you can excavate the gold.

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Shadow play: finding the gold

      So how do we get to the gold in the shadow? The path to the gold runs through the swamp. Shadow gold is the treasure guarded by the monsters of our own creation.

      Shadow work is soul work: challenging, evocative and illuminating. Many people spend their entire lives avoiding shadow work because it's too terrifying. Most people make their initial foray into shadow only when they can no longer avoid it. The tipping point is the apex where the pain of staying the same is greater than the fear of being different.
    In my own excavations, what I've discovered inside myself has scared me far more than anything I've experienced in the world. Making the journey into shadow has absolutely been worth it each time. Every excursion opens me to being more authentic and brings me closer to who I want to be.
    The shadow gold can be frightening too because it speaks to a new depth of meaning and bigger purpose. The idea of leaving behind the life you know to step into something larger is an edgy prospect.
     The first step to excavating the gold in your shadow is looking at what you've disowned. What characteristics, forms of expression and pieces of Self do you habitually reject?
    Some of the answers to this question lie in what triggers you, what irritates you in others and in the places where your behaviour is frequently misunderstood. A few weeks ago when I posted about triggers, I wrote about how triggering is an internal process. The external person, situation or event that sets off the trigger is merely a catalyst. The trigger itself is a package of emotions, wounding, experience and reactions that live inside you.
     The places where you are often triggered and most prone to overreacting are the ones where your shadow is stepping up to say "hi." The extent to which your reaction feels beyond your control and leads you to behave in ways you later regret is a measure of how strong that shadow piece is.
   Here's where things get tricky. Shadow, like most other aspects of being human, is multi-layered. If you've identified a trigger that you react to with anger and you've unpacked the trigger...that's the tip of the perpetual iceberg.
   Triggers are points of vulnerability. Shying away from vulnerability is human nature. Our lizard brain survival instinct equates vulnerability with threat. Most of the time your immediate reaction to being triggered is to pull up some emotion that counteracts feeling vulnerable like anger, indignation, etc.
   So the initial reactive emotion is essentially a defense. The more powerful your anger is, the more completely it will overcome any sense of vulnerability. The places where your anger is disproportionate to the situation are the places where you actually feel the most vulnerable. While the anger is part of your shadow, it's also protecting you from connecting with a deeper shadow piece that's much scarier, your vulnerability. The gold is found by unpacking the vulnerability that the anger monster is guarding.
   The things that irritate you in other people are another valuable clue to what's in your shadow. We've all heard the saying "if you spot it, you've got it." Often when you're irritated with someone else, you're actually frustrated with the part of yourself the other person is mirroring back to you. But what about the times when "if you spot it, you got it" doesn’t seem to fit?
     I can get pretty irritated with people who need to talk constantly, but that's not who I am. I value silence. I find that connection often deepens in shared silence. So what do constant talkers mirror that irritates me?
   Constant talking pulls at my attention. It’s a form of having my focus pulled to something that feels trivial and I'd rather not deal with. I often feel the same irritation and impatience at life maintenance tasks like laundry and cleaning. Mirroring isn’t always obvious or direct.
     Another clue to what's in your shadow comes from the places where your behaviour is often misunderstood. If your intention is X, but when you act on that intention people interpret your behaviour as being about Y...part of your intention was probably fueled by shadow.
   For example, say you like helping other people; you regularly offer to help friends. When a friend refuses your offer, you respond by insisting that it's no problem, you're glad to do it, etc. Your intention was to be helpful. However your friend perceives everything beyond the initial offer of help as you being pushy. What's going on here?
   If you look at why you wanted to help, you'll probably find your motivation wasn't as clear as you thought it was. If you're not feeling so good about yourself, was helping a friend a way to prove to yourself that you still have value? Was the offer of help more about looking for a way to connect because you miss your friend? Is this friend someone you feel you owe and helping is a way to even out your internal balance sheet?
   If all this sounds like a way to dig up the swamp, you're right. You can try accessing the shadow gold directly by looking at the compliments you habitually push away. Most people have a harder time owning their strengths than their flaws and shortcomings. The flaws and shortcomings are the monsters guarding the gold. Slogging through the swamp allows you to meet the monsters and move them aside.
   Once you have an idea of what's hiding in your shadow, write it down. For each little monster you've listed, write the complimentary or "opposite" characteristic next to it. Polarity is inherent in nature. Nothing one-sided can exist here. For every little monster you've listed, you also possess the corresponding strength. It may be underdeveloped or so buried that it seems inaccessible or unreal, but it's there. That's the gold. The gold is as much a part of you as the little monsters are.
   So now what? You've gotten a glimpse of the gold, how do you excavate it? That's next week's topic.

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