Navel Gazing and the Inquiring Mind

This term, navel gazing, has crossed my radar a few times in the last few months, allowing me to do some inquiry into whether introspection and a life of self-inquiry is indeed indulgent.

Since the beginning of recorded history, all great religions and philosophies have encouraged a contemplative practice. And don't all of our decisions require a run through our filter? And to act and not react to the elements we're faced with each day demands a quiet mind that has, at least, considered a mature approach to many of life's sticky situations. Know thy mind.

So it seems we come, once again, to the question of semantics. What does navel gazing really mean? One would guess it might mean narcissistic self-indulgence, which might have negative connotations if we are judging. But the term self-inquiry has different implications perhaps...certainly it is language often used to face challenging issues before us.

But if all this isn't enough, perhaps the best way to lead a contemplative life without the guilt that you are being self-indulgent, is to practice tonglen....this Buddhist practice puts us in touch with the noble heart. "Whenever we encounter suffering of any form, the tonglen instruction is to breathe it in with the wish that everyone could be free of pain. Whenever we encounter happiness in any form, the instruction is to breathe it out, send it out, with the wish that everyone could feel joy.....In the process, we become liberated from very ancient habits of selfishness."(Pema Chodron)

There seems to be no turning back on the path, once a spiritual seeker begins. For me, the only option is to become more skilled in my observation and questioning. That along with listening and paying attention.

The Trouble With Meditation

I started meditating years ago, when my children were toddlers and sanity seemed as elusive as a bathroom break. My closest friends know that my small walk-in closet was the only closed door my children never guessed I'd be sitting behind, so with coffee mug in hand, I would steal away in search of serenity.


All these years later, I still bring the mug, now with more healthful tea, and sit on a cushion in that closet. The space can be light or completely pitch black, it is very quiet, and is just big enough to lie down if I need to stretch my body out.


But although my arts training has been good discipline in many ways for this activity, I am acutely aware that when I need meditation the most, it seems to be the hardest time to practice. At times when I am feeling unbalanced, untethered, unloved, or underappreciated, my tools seem to abandon me. And when I'm in a crisis, it simply feels like a comical waste of time.


I recognize that I am blessed with a non-judgemental approach to my sitting practice. I've had little formal training and therefore the how, when, why, and where of it aren't very prescribed. I'm not even sure why I started or have continued for this long, other than I know with all of my heart that this is the path, my path at least. I also know that perseverance is key in almost all disciplines so even when I am struggling with inner turmoil, I usually spend time every day on the cushion.


But honestly, the cacophony in that closet is, at times, unbearable. It only reinforces how badly I need the grounding, but there is nothing else to do but observe the situation. There is never a question in my mind whether I should or shouldn't meditate on a given day. I always go through the right motions. But when I grasp for salvation from that activity or any other, it moves out of my reach. I have no babysitter, as Pema Chodron would say. Guess I'm growing up in spite of myself.

Opening To The World...

"The only reason we don't open our hearts and minds to other people is that they trigger confusion in us that we don't feel brave enough or sane enough to deal with. To the degree that we look clearly and compassionately at ourselves, we feel confident and fearless about looking into someone else's eyes."


Pema Chodron
When Things Fall Apart