A Mind That Lets Go: Cultivating Equanimity (Part 2)
There are all sorts of ways that we can let go; however, from the perspective of mindfulness meditation letting go is about seeing directly into the nature of our moment-to-moment experience. We need to notice attachment forming in the moment of its arising, and it passing away in the moment of its cessation. In noticing this arising and passing away, awareness can watch the ego expand and contract.
This can be a very simple practice: when we notice a pleasant experience we can simply note “pleasant.” We can then notice if there is an attachment to the pleasant. It can be interesting to rank the attachment on a scale of 1-5, from weak to strong attachment. We can also notice when a sensory experience is “unpleasant,” and notice aversion from 1-5. In this way, we start to see how the mind quickly clings and pushes away pleasant and unpleasant experiences.
In short, what equanimity allows us to cultivate is a mind that lets go.
I’ve come to appreciate that this really is at the heart of the spiritual path: letting go. In reality, this teaching is the one the ego resists the most because the ego by nature is predicated on the opposite tendency: it wants to control experience, to make reality conform to its preferences, it wants all pleasure and no pain, it wants security in a reality that is fundamentally impermanent.
Above all, the ego is designed to perpetuate its own existence yet it knows the end game: that it will come to an end. This is both the blessing and the curse of human consciousness: that we are self-aware, including of our own mortality.
In the end, we will have no choice but to let go. Death is the ultimate letting go. Can we see this clearly? That, in the end, there truly is nothing to hold on to. There is no kind of perfect, imperturbable security: not in relationships, or your career, or your health, or any of the other facets of your identity that your mind has constructed and identifies with as you. Like all phenomena in the universe, all of these things are fundamentally impermeant, subject to the never-ending cycle of birth and death.
If we can see this clearly, if our attention can develop the power and clarity to pierce through our illusions, fears, and insecurities; we can find freedom. This is what contemplatives from many wisdom traditions have understood. That’s why Ajarn Chah instructed his students to do “everything with a mind that lets go.” That’s what Jesus was pointing to in The Gospel of Luke when he said: “He who finds himself will lose himself. He who loses himself will find himself.”
When memories of Nate arise, I can turn towards them because awareness can clearly see them for what they are: appearances of the mind. Consciousness does not have to be identified with its contents, yet we spend most of our lives walking around blind in circles because, over and over again, we unconsciously identify with the thoughts and emotions that appear within consciousness.
Now, when emotions like sadness and grief arise, I can turn towards them and open to them; it’s easier to do so when I understand that these too will pass. All of these recollections of Nate are impermanent, like Nate’s life, and my life, and the life of everything else in this universe. With mindfulness and equanimity, we can learn to see clearly: this is simply how things are.
Moreover, we can trust in the wisdom of experience that challenging emotions have something valuable to teach us. As you reflect on your own life, have you grown the most through easy and pleasant experiences or through challenging and uncomfortable one?
Our pain must be listened to and honored. This includes the honest admission that to fall in love is to invite grief. Just like birth and death, love and grief are merely flip sides of the same coin.
Knowing that things will come to an end allows us to step deeper into intimacy with the present moment and everything in it, which is fundamentally inseparable from ourselves. A balanced mind that sees clearly, that has developed this quality of equanimity, can keep bringing us back to this truth: right now, things are like this.
This is why heartfulness is not separate from mindfulness: the nonjudgmental quality and clarity of our mindfulness is not mere bare attention but also has other qualities, such as equanimity, loving-kindness, compassion, and appreciative joy. Mindfulness can notice when gratitude is present; it can offer compassion for the suffering of others and for ourselves. It can rejoice in the happiness of others.
From the perspective of the mind, life is tragic, It is also beautiful. Life is innumerable things that are beyond the confinements of concepts and language. But through the practice of mindfulness and the teachings of The Dharma we can learn to see things clearly; we can learn to be present with the constantly changing nature of life as seen through the lens of consciousness. We can polish the mirror of awareness itself.
In doing so, we can learn to cut through the fears that are holding us back: we can cultivate the courage to love, to undertake the healing that we know we need to become the best version of ourselves. We can learn to cultivate a mind that lets go and surrenders into the vastness of loving awareness itself.