Free to Respond || By Beth Hinnen, Certified Mindfulness and Meditation Teacher
One of the most pivotal points on my spiritual path came rather early, as I was just beginning to observe the mind and realize how much it worked on autopilot. Something would happen and instantly my mind would react, with criticism, judgement, dismissal, dismay, and a host of other reactions that seemed so normal. If you’ve been following my blogs, chances are you’ve heard this story before as it is seared into my recollection as a true moment of actual choice. My husband (now ex) was (and probably still is) a prankster. It was one of the attributes I found adorable, … until it wasn’t. It seemed he just could not be serious about the things I wanted him to be serious about.
Nevertheless, there we were in our 4th floor NYC apartment that faced another building and had only 2 hours of sun each day. I was coming out of the kitchen and he from the entryway and we stopped near each other in the living room. While I do not remember what he actually said, what the topic was, or even the general words, I do remember that I looked at him, saw him grinning with mirth and mischievousness and true to form, my mind leapt to anger … until the idea dropped in … “or laugh.” In that moment, it was instantly clear each was a viable option, one not better than the other, and each felt natural. I experienced the clarity of choice … the openness of mind that could lead to same old, same old … or to something new.
I chose to laugh. It was that simple. The anger dissipated as quickly as it had arisen and for the first time in probably a long time we connected and enjoyed the humor of his quirky observational abilities. Did it save our marriage? No. Alas, it was only one moment in a million others that were fraught with reaction, and not response. However, I did walk away from that encounter knowing, from my own direct experience, that when given the chance, I could take a beat and see a choice in how to respond.
This is an invaluable skill, indeed, it is what the Buddha pointed to as skillful action, one of the factors on the Eightfold Path. While the Zen monastery where I studied was short on scripture, it was long on practice, and while staying there, I went for extended periods without any immediate input from others. It was silent, talking only happened at specific times/places and I had a lot of chances to see how the mind conjectured all sorts of things like, how the monks were secretly partying in a hermitage while I cleaned the bathrooms. I can not say this was definitively not true (probably wasn’t), however, what I do know is that the torture my mind put me through by persisting in this thought was truly painful. And the only person it impacted? Me.
About midway through my monastery experience (which lasted several years), the phrase “wait … for … it,” dropped in. It became my mantra for many of my future stays. After all, there was no one to ask to confirm my worst suspicions when something did, or did not, happen. And even if I did ask, the typical response (and I do believe these were responses) was to point me, inward, an invitation for me to reflect on why I had leapt to such a conclusion. This was my practice for a long time, to find the space between an event and my mind’s typical reaction, to actually consider a myriad of other possible reasons something did or did not happen. In this way, I began to cultivate an openness of mind which could allow me to respond.
Which brings me to just the other day. While moving paint from one place to another, a can dropped and popped open, spilling the gorgeous blue color from my bathroom onto a multi-hued rug which, also had a similar blue in it along with beautiful tones of pinks, oranges and greens. I picked up the can as quickly as I could, and stood for a moment, just looking. This was the “wait for it,” the taking a beat without reacting. In Buddhist parlance, it was a moment of accepting “this is what is here right now.”
In such “catastrophe moments,” I can now recognize how the deep practice at the monastery built a foundation of clarity and openness of mind. I did not leap to anguish, recrimination, or shaming myself. I did recognize that it wasn’t the best idea to stack the cans on an unstable trolley (an example of discernment, more later). I did offer to my heart that the worst case scenario would be I’d have to purchase a new rug. Once I allowed myself to see that the main harm was a dent in my pocketbook, I stared at the pooling paint and let my mind play with different options of how to proceed. (Indeed, a very wise person I know relayed an old family wisdom to me, “If money can fix the problem, it’s not a problem.” Then, it’s just an issue with how we see money – another blog!). This ability to look at a situation without judgement is what I call discernment, an equanimous state of mind able to evaluate all angles without attachment to any single one, and choose appropriately. This is of huge help when wanting to respond, rather than react. Do this? my mind proposed. No. This? Nope. Perhaps this? Perhaps.
Now, I did say, the mind discerned. In the Dhammapada, the Buddha offers that a well-trained mind is more supportive than a loving parent. And an untrained mind is more harmful than an enemy. While the mind is often stuck in reaction, it can be trained to take a beat … wait for it … to discern and evaluate a situation, and be of invaluable help in responding. For me, this is the whole point of spiritual practice. Rather than the mind tanking me with objections, resistance and fears, I want it to be a supportive friend and mentor, a tool that can help me weigh options with clarity and kindness. It is, in essence, the tail I wag rather than it wagging me.
Back to the paint spill. I finally settled on a putty knife, disposable food container, a bowl of soapy water, a scrub brush, and the final, pièce de résistance, the Bissell Green Machine. As I performed each step, I noticed a slight tendency of the mind to pull toward despair and I would simply bring it back to the task at hand. When all was said and done, as I stood up and looked at the rug, I realized that the area with the spill now looked cleaner than the rest of the rug. The mind was completely surprised.
A quote from one of my online accounts is, “In the end, everything is good. If it’s not good, it’s not the end.” My blog on binge-watching discusses this ad nauseam. True equanimity in life is recognizing there is never any end. To lament over how things stand in this moment, is to believe that this moment lasts forever. It doesn’t. The nature of nature … is to change. The nature of humans, is to change. The nature of the universe, is to expand. The nature of the mind … well, again, it can get stuck in ruts of despair, grousing, catastrophizing, complacency, and a host of other states however, with practice, it can be trained to instead respond, be open, curious, kind, patient and more than anything, accepting.
Which leads to freedom. When we are free from fear, clinging, aversion, doubt, we become capable of encountering all the ills of the world without taking them personally. In this way, we can be of tremendous help and assistance. The Buddha was clear … he would not teach how to end suffering if he did not think people could do it. Building this confidence in our capacity to act skillfully, with compassion, and without judgement is something I wish for everyone. From such a place, rather than avoiding situations, conjecturing the worst about others and the world, or reacting from the well-worn grooves of the mind, we can instead respond, take a beat, wait … for … it — for more information, for clarifying details, for other options to present themselves. Such acceptance is far from complacency. It is the beginning of wisdom.
About the Author: Beth Hinnen came to the spiritual path from the corporate world. After experiencing impermanence and greed, she left to study Yoga and has over 1,000 hours in Yoga teacher training, and ended up specializing in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, spiritual scripture that closely aligns with Buddhism. From there, she studied Zen Buddhism for over ten years, including in-person, month-long monastic retreats, until she earned certification, in January, 2023, as a Mindfulness and Meditation Teacher with Jack Kornfield and Tara Brach. Currently, Beth is a co-leader of the IMCD Council, and on the Teachers Collective, as administrator. She hosts a Meetup group called Yoga Meets Buddhism, and for the past three years, has held an online Dharma Wednesdays class that discusses the Yoga Sutras while also bringing in Buddhist teachings, along with Sufi poets, Christianity, Judaism and other spiritual paths that reinforce the words of Sri Swami Satchidananda, the founder of Integral Yoga where Beth studied. “The truth is one, the paths are many.” More information about Beth is at www.samayaco.org.
