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Over the years, my therapeutic focus has shifted increasingly toward what I would call “expansion.” I continue to see patients for issues as apparently one-dimensional as a sore knee, but what I really want for them is so much more than the disappearance of their knee soreness. My highest intention is that they will have an experience of lasting peace, happiness, and freedom. (I want this also for anyone who reads an article or book I’ve written, or takes one of my courses – and also for everyone else, too!)
The tricky part is that we tend to have these virtuous qualities wrapped up in causes. For instance, we may think, I feel peaceful because my surroundings are safe and it’s my day off. Or, I feel happy because I have good food and friends. Or, I feel free because my country has laws that protect my rights and I just dumped my boyfriend.
Yet, in order to embody these states in a deep, lasting way, they must become uncaused. That is, we find our way to them regardless of what’s happening with our body, our mind, or our life circumstances. And I believe the most likely way to discover such uncaused happiness, peace, and freedom is through an expansion of consciousness.
Limited or narrowed states of consciousness get us into trouble. When we identify with only one facet of all that we are, this sets us up for suffering.
Let’s look at some states of “contracted” consciousness. One of the most detailed frameworks for such an examination comes from the Tantrik tradition, which defines a set of layers of the Being. Although as a human you are all of these layers simultaneously, in any moment you’re likely to be identifying primarily with a single layer.
The center of the being is called cit (“chit”), which means absolute, nondual, nonlocal consciousness. It is consciousness that is completely unbound from a body, a mind, a personality, or any other labels. It is undying and eternal. You experience cit at all times, but it’s very difficult for a human to identify with it because it’s so basic, and so beyond our humanness.
The first layer outward is called sunya, which means emptiness. It is stillness, like what we experience in the deepest, dreamless sleep. It can also be experienced in meditation. Sometimes it feels so right and restful to a meditator that they believe this is what they are. While this is true, if it is worn as an identity to the exclusion of their more human layers – as in, “The human part isn’t the real me,” – then it’s still a contraction of consciousness, and brings problems – such as neglect of the body and inability to relate to others.
The next layer outward, called prana, is our vital energy, like the Chinese concept of Qi. Prana is considered to be an interface between the body and mind. And even though we have an individual experience of prana, like the two deeper layers previously mentioned, it’s a communal layer – we share it with everyone.
The next layer outward is citta (“chitta”), meaning “heart-mind” – or the layer of thoughts and feelings. In Tantra Illuminated, author Christopher Wallis explains that thoughts and feelings are considered essentially one, with the difference that thoughts are vibrations with a greater linguistic or logical component while feelings are vibrations with a stronger affective or “felt” charge. Humans tend to be more identified with this layer than any other. If our consciousness is mainly narrowed to this level, our thoughts and feelings run the show. We might say things like, “I am sad,” or “I am stupid,” as an expression of our identification with this layer. Because the mind and feelings can change so rapidly, when we live in this layer, we attempt to create stability by building repetitive patterns and forging rules for how the world should behave – and this greatly squelches our freedom.
The next layer outward is deha, the body. When we believe “I am my body,” – and especially when we simultaneously forget all the rest that we are, we base our self-worth on it and we feel vulnerable because of it. We know, of course, that it’s bound to age and decay.
Finally, there is a layer so superficial that it’s not even really part of our being. It’s called vastu – our possessions or “stuff.” Our possessions have a way of going along with us through life, they reflect our self-image, and it’s quite common to identify ourselves with them. This causes us to invest a lot of time and energy into accumulating, tending to, and protecting this stuff. We may even feel personally assaulted if our stuff gets stolen or damaged.
It’s important to note that there’s nothing bad about identifying with any of these layers, even the “stuff” layer. As you enter and embody each of these layers, there’s rich opportunity to experience, explore, and play. Again, the trap is in identifying with some small portion of all that you are – to the exclusion of the rest.
So, the simplest instruction I could give is to remember. Remember that you’re more than whatever facet of yourself you’re currently immersed in. The more you are able to expand your consciousness to include a broader, all-inclusive sense of self, the greater your potential to access peace, freedom, and happiness.
Give it a try and let me know what happens.
Be well,
Dr. Peter Borten
[post_title] => Welcoming the Many Layers of YOU
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In 1984, followers of the spiritual guru Osho (Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, 1931-1990) sprinkled salmonella bacteria into the salad bars of ten restaurants in Oregon, sickening 751 people. A few years earlier, Osho had left his commune in India due to pressure from authorities and purchased a defunct ranch in the Pacific Northwest. Thousands of his students moved in, but the land wasn’t zoned for that volume of habitation. They ran into more trouble with the law because of it, and had to find ways to conceal how many people were actually residing there.
Hiding the expansion of the community was difficult as their numbers grew because they wore highly visible red robes – plus they built an airstrip, restaurants, and fire department on the property. It probably didn’t help that they occasionally drove into town in a Jeep with a machine gun mounted on it. They clashed with locals, government officials, and environmental groups, but eventually hit upon a solution: this would all be legal if they could establish the ranch as a city.
There was considerable resistance from the community, however, and this is what led to the salmonella plan. Through what has been called the largest domestic act of bioterrorism in the U.S., they hoped to incapacitate enough voters to secure wins for their own candidates in the upcoming county election. But despite the sickened population, local voter turnout was high enough to keep Osho’s supporters (AKA “Rajneeshees”) from succeeding.
During this time, the guru was observing a long period of seclusion and had ceased contact with all but a small number of close attendants. However, his devotees bought him a collection of 93 Rolls Royces, and each day he would slowly drive one of these luxury cars down a long dirt road where they waited to catch a glimpse of him.
About a year later, Osho himself reported the salmonella attacks to the authorities. The attacks, it turns out, were just the most visible expression of a chaotic fanaticism that had developed in a portion of his followers. Osho claimed they acted without his knowledge or blessing; they said he sanctioned it.
It’s difficult to discern the truth from all the stories, partly because his form of teaching came with an apparent delight in shocking people. He enjoyed cursing, had an irreverent sense of humor, championed free love, and proposed such offensive measures as euthanizing disabled children. He was both scorned and revered. Many intelligent people regard him as one of the greatest contemporary spiritual teachers, and probably millions would credit him with making a positive impact on their lives.
When most people encounter such a button-pushing issue or figure, they feel compelled to take a side. We like things to be black and white. If we can frame something in terms of good and evil or right and wrong, it makes our lives easier. It feels good to have strong, unwavering convictions. But the truth doesn’t usually conform to such convenient categories. Almost everything falls somewhere along the gigantic spectrum between the extremes. And accepting this requires the work of deeper contemplation and possibly the discomfort of admitting that our position isn’t completely correct.
A recent study showed that people who know the least about a subject are the most likely to take a strongly polarized position on it – perhaps even a zealous, foaming-at-the-mouth position. The corollary to this finding is that the more we really understand a person or issue, the more neutral our position becomes, and the more accepting we tend to be of different viewpoints.
In the case of Osho, my opinion is that he was charismatic, brilliant, enlightened, and also manipulative, self-serving, offensive, and extremely eccentric. I also think, as is so often the case with powerful people, he attracted followers who believed they were living in accordance with his teachings and acting on his behalf without really understanding what he stood for. They were intoxicated by his mojo and used that feeling of power to justify their own convoluted drives. My intention isn’t really to pick on Osho and his disciples as much as it to point out the dynamics that occur on the inside and outside of such a phenomenon, which I’ll summarize here:
Tapping into power tends to amplify not just the presentable aspects of ourselves, but our shadow side, too. It partly explains why so many high-level teachers, artists, and executives end up sleeping with their students and employees, or succumbing to some other vice. Perhaps it’s why a guru might enjoy having 93 Rolls Royces. And it’s also why many traditions, such as yoga, emphasize purifying or balancing one’s mind, actions, and senses before attempting the practices that are likely to unleash a bunch of energy. (Did your yoga teacher introduce you to the yamas and niyamas that traditionally come before undertaking asanas or "poses"?)
Potent ideas tend to be degraded as they are transmitted through human minds. It’s like the children’s game operator. Moreover, we like latching onto such ideas – whether we find them enticing or horrible, or both – and running with them, even though the trajectory they carry us on may not be altogether healthy for us. And again, we favor positionality, even though (or maybe because) it implies conflict. That is, taking a fixed, polarized position necessarily engages us against the opposite position. In order to maintain such positionality, we’re best served by keeping ourselves ignorant.
In light of all these analyses of human behavior, I offer you this homework assignment for the week: Innocence. Be innocent, open, and humble. Feel the compulsion to take positions, and instead, be innocent, go deeper, and learn more.
Be well,
Dr. Peter Borten
P.S. For those who haven't encountered any of Osho's teachings, I’ll leave you with an excerpt from Undone Tao, a series of talks he gave on one of my favorite books, the Daoist classic, Dao De Jing:
"Enlightenment is not a search, it is a realization. It is not a goal, it is the very nature of life itself.
As life is, it is enlightened. It needs nothing to be added to it to improve it. Life is perfect. It is not moving from imperfection to perfection. It is moving from perfection to perfection.
You are here to attain something – that is functioning as a barrier. Drop that barrier. Just be here. Forget about any purpose. Life cannot have any purpose; life is the purpose. How can it have any other purpose? Otherwise you will be in an infinite regress: then that purpose will have another purpose, then that purpose will have another purpose… Life has no purpose and that’s why it’s so beautiful.
Hindus have called it leela, a play. It is not even a game. Now in the West, the word “game” has become very important. Hundreds of books have been published within two, three years with the word “game” in the title: The Master Game, The Ultimate Game, Games People Play, and so on. But there is a difference between game and play. Hindus have called life “play,” not “game,” because even a game has something as a purpose: a result to be attained, victory to be achieved, the opponent has to be conquered. When play becomes a game, then it becomes serious.
Grownups play games, children only play. Just the very activity is enough unto itself. It has an intrinsic end; there is no goal added to it. Life is a leela. It is a play. And the moment you are ready to play, you are enlightened.
…
Then you start a totally different way of life. You start being playful. You start being alive moment to moment with nowhere to go. Whatsoever life gives, you accept it with deep gratitude. Grace happens to you."
[post_title] => Between the Extremes
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When I was in grad school for Chinese Medicine, I’d often see students hanging around campus engaged in related ancient Chinese arts, such as tai chi, qi gong, calligraphy, studying Chinese astrology or feng shui. It was also common to see a group of students hitting themselves and each other.
They were training in the toughening exercises of martial arts, which I had never witnessed before. This entailed repeatedly knocking the edges of their shins or forearms against each other, or whacking their bodies with a thick bundle of metal wires (called an “iron bundle” or tetsutaba). As I tentatively tried hitting myself with this implement, one of them told me, “You really want to feel your bones rattle when you do it.” Needless to say, they had lots of bruises.
They finished every session by taking out a jug of some pungent brown liquid and rubbing it all over the impacted parts of their bodies. As an herbalist, this was the most interesting part for me. Each guy actually had his own jug of brown stuff, and they often argued about whose was the best.
The brown stuff was called dit da jow (AKA die da jiu) which means something like “hit fall wine” and it’s sometimes just called a hit formula or training formula by martial artists. The purpose of the stuff is to help one recover faster after taking a bunch of kicks and punches. It’s made from a variety of herbs, resins, and minerals that have been soaked in alcohol for about a month. Famous teachers and martial arts schools often have their own recipes, many of which have been in continuous use for centuries and are often held in great secrecy.
Over years of begging and pleading with my fighter friends and hunting down obscure texts, I managed to procure about a dozen different recipes, then proceeded to spend more years studying them. I had hundreds of jars of my own “brown liquids,” made out of countless combinations and permutations of these formulas. Since most of my patients weren’t fighters I expanded the application to include the various ways we’re battered by modern life – athletics, poor posture, sitting for way too long at a desk, carrying kids around, using backpacks, sleeping on a crappy bed, standing on hard floors, wearing heels, etc.
By tracking people’s responses, I gradually moved toward what would eventually be our Muscle Melt liniment. It features a gigantic number of ingredients, but every one is in there for a reason. My high-performance athlete patients regularly tell me that it makes it possible for them to do a super intense workout and be back in action the next day with minimal downtime. If you’re feeling beat up by life, give it a try and tell me what you think.
Be well,
Dr. Peter Borten
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Over the years, my therapeutic focus has shifted increasingly toward what I would call “expansion.” I continue to see patients for issues as apparently one-dimensional as a sore knee, but what I really want for them is so much more than the disappearance of their knee soreness. My highest intention is that they will have an experience of lasting peace, happiness, and freedom. (I want this also for anyone who reads an article or book I’ve written, or takes one of my courses – and also for everyone else, too!)
The tricky part is that we tend to have these virtuous qualities wrapped up in causes. For instance, we may think, I feel peaceful because my surroundings are safe and it’s my day off. Or, I feel happy because I have good food and friends. Or, I feel free because my country has laws that protect my rights and I just dumped my boyfriend.
Yet, in order to embody these states in a deep, lasting way, they must become uncaused. That is, we find our way to them regardless of what’s happening with our body, our mind, or our life circumstances. And I believe the most likely way to discover such uncaused happiness, peace, and freedom is through an expansion of consciousness.
Limited or narrowed states of consciousness get us into trouble. When we identify with only one facet of all that we are, this sets us up for suffering.
Let’s look at some states of “contracted” consciousness. One of the most detailed frameworks for such an examination comes from the Tantrik tradition, which defines a set of layers of the Being. Although as a human you are all of these layers simultaneously, in any moment you’re likely to be identifying primarily with a single layer.
The center of the being is called cit (“chit”), which means absolute, nondual, nonlocal consciousness. It is consciousness that is completely unbound from a body, a mind, a personality, or any other labels. It is undying and eternal. You experience cit at all times, but it’s very difficult for a human to identify with it because it’s so basic, and so beyond our humanness.
The first layer outward is called sunya, which means emptiness. It is stillness, like what we experience in the deepest, dreamless sleep. It can also be experienced in meditation. Sometimes it feels so right and restful to a meditator that they believe this is what they are. While this is true, if it is worn as an identity to the exclusion of their more human layers – as in, “The human part isn’t the real me,” – then it’s still a contraction of consciousness, and brings problems – such as neglect of the body and inability to relate to others.
The next layer outward, called prana, is our vital energy, like the Chinese concept of Qi. Prana is considered to be an interface between the body and mind. And even though we have an individual experience of prana, like the two deeper layers previously mentioned, it’s a communal layer – we share it with everyone.
The next layer outward is citta (“chitta”), meaning “heart-mind” – or the layer of thoughts and feelings. In Tantra Illuminated, author Christopher Wallis explains that thoughts and feelings are considered essentially one, with the difference that thoughts are vibrations with a greater linguistic or logical component while feelings are vibrations with a stronger affective or “felt” charge. Humans tend to be more identified with this layer than any other. If our consciousness is mainly narrowed to this level, our thoughts and feelings run the show. We might say things like, “I am sad,” or “I am stupid,” as an expression of our identification with this layer. Because the mind and feelings can change so rapidly, when we live in this layer, we attempt to create stability by building repetitive patterns and forging rules for how the world should behave – and this greatly squelches our freedom.
The next layer outward is deha, the body. When we believe “I am my body,” – and especially when we simultaneously forget all the rest that we are, we base our self-worth on it and we feel vulnerable because of it. We know, of course, that it’s bound to age and decay.
Finally, there is a layer so superficial that it’s not even really part of our being. It’s called vastu – our possessions or “stuff.” Our possessions have a way of going along with us through life, they reflect our self-image, and it’s quite common to identify ourselves with them. This causes us to invest a lot of time and energy into accumulating, tending to, and protecting this stuff. We may even feel personally assaulted if our stuff gets stolen or damaged.
It’s important to note that there’s nothing bad about identifying with any of these layers, even the “stuff” layer. As you enter and embody each of these layers, there’s rich opportunity to experience, explore, and play. Again, the trap is in identifying with some small portion of all that you are – to the exclusion of the rest.
So, the simplest instruction I could give is to remember. Remember that you’re more than whatever facet of yourself you’re currently immersed in. The more you are able to expand your consciousness to include a broader, all-inclusive sense of self, the greater your potential to access peace, freedom, and happiness.
Give it a try and let me know what happens.
Be well,
Dr. Peter Borten
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