Spirituality

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THE MYTH OF PERFECTION: A BUDDHIST PERSPECTIVE

Many of the clients in my psychotherapy practice come to see me for depression and anxiety caused by self-criticism and negative self-talk. I have discovered that these clients are caught in the trap of perfectionism. Perfectionism has been defined in psychology (Stoeber & Childs 2010) as “a personality disposition characterized by an individual striving for flawlessness and setting excessively high performance standards, accompanied by overly critical self-evaluations and concerns regarding others’ evaluations.”

From a Buddhist perspective, perfectionism is kept in place by an attachment to the “self” as a separate, unique and real entity. In addition, forgetting that we are human beings living in samsara (the endless cycle of birth, old age, sickness and death and its attendant suffering) further solidifies perfectionism.

Human beings in the “human realm” of samsara all experience anger or aversion, jealousy, grasping, ignorance or lack of understanding and pride – known in Buddhism as the “five poisons.” Those with perfectionistic tendencies forget this, and believe that they are uniquely deficient when they experience these afflictions. Some feel so much shame, or have such a strong need for others’ approval that they try to hide behind a mask of perfectionism – covering up mistakes rather than owning up to and learning from them, overindulging in food, drugs or sex to numb the pain, giving in to others’ needs rather than expressing their own.

Instead of trying to deny or hide imperfections, acknowledging them mindfully can lessen perfectionism’s control. The first step is to mindfully notice your thoughts of self-judgment. The goal is to acknowledge those thoughts as soon as they arise and then let them go, dispassionately and without judgment. It takes a lot of practice not to get caught in the web of those thoughts.

One important tool in overcoming perfectionism or other dysfunctional tendencies is to recognize where you feel the associated feelings in your body. For example, if you experience jealousy, you might feel a hot, tight sensation in your chest. Exploring the sensation further, you discover that it would be red if it had a color, oval if it had a shape, and about two inches long if it had a size. Precisely describing the bodily feeling, as in the above example, is very effective in recognizing and letting go of self-critical thoughts as soon as they arise.

Then, breathe into that physical place with compassion, instead of immediately trying to avoid the feeling. You can’t turn it off like turning off the radio, and the more you try, the more intense it becomes. In the vernacular of the ‘70s human potential movement, “what you resist persists.” As you breathe out, breathe out light and space.

Continuing to breathe in and out in this way leads naturally to the Buddhist practice of tonglen, or sending and receiving – taking in the heavy, dark negative feelings, and sending out light, spacious healing feelings. This practice is first done for oneself, and then extended to all beings who suffer from perfectionism’s grip.

The benefits of this practice to counteract perfectionism are many and powerful. First is the engendering of compassion for oneself and one’s human foibles. Extending this compassion out to all who are suffering from perfectionism leads naturally to knowing that you are not alone, separate and distinct from all others.

We are perfect in our imperfection. Acknowledging and leaning into our imperfections with compassion and without judgment leads to tenderness and openness. As Leonard Cohen sang, “There’s a crack in everything. That’s where the light gets in.”

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Psychotherapy and the Middle Way

When I hear the clients in my psychotherapy and grief counseling practice talk in black and white terms, or view their options in terms of extremes, I am reminded of the Buddhist concept of the Middle Way. When the Buddha was asked how one should meditate, he responded “not too tight, not too loose.” He analogized this to a string instrument, like a lute: If the strings of the lute are too tight, they will break, and if the strings of the lute are too loose, they won’t play.

So it is as we live our lives and navigate its changes. Ideally, we strive to find a middle way where the “strings” of our life can resonate. However, due to anxiety, we may get wound up to the breaking point, where there is no give and take, no spaciousness to allow things to be. On the other hand, we may be so downtrodden with depression that our “strings” are too loose — we just don’t have the emotional energy to tighten them enough to play.

The Middle Way can be likened to living in the space of ambiguity — which is truly the condition of life. Because of our emotional histories, living in ambiguity can be fraught with difficulties. In our anxiety, we frantically fill the spaces in our lives with doing, rather than being. Yet, possibilities for growth and renewal can only arise if we are able to rest in that unknown space. If we can take a breath and rest in that space, called “the gap” in Buddhism, we see that it truly is spacious, vibrant, alive and full of possibility.

Similarly, our emotional wounds sometimes prevent us from seeing the complex nature of the people in our lives, including ourselves. At its extreme, we see them as all good or all bad, known as “splitting.” In fact, sometimes the same person is seen as all good one minute, all bad the next. A goal for people in therapy with this type of issue is to be able to see the shades of gray — people, including the client, are neither all good nor all bad. Many people with this tendency are perfectionists, with resultant depression, eating disorders, self-injury and other issues. For these clients, having a safe experience that it is OK not to be perfect (and that perfection is in fact impossible for human beings) leads to self-compassion, and compassion for others. Their emotional “strings” can then be loosened enough to let themselves — and others — be, allowing for the possibility of joy, satisfaction and intimacy in their lives.

The Middle Way approach is also helpful in my work as a grief counselor. People who are struggling with their grief sometimes ask me “when will I feel better, and when will I ‘get over it’”? Some go the “too loose” extreme, numbing the pain of grief with drugs or alcohol, or jumping into a new relationship. Others go to the “too tight” extreme, idealizing and idolizing their deceased loved ones, or holding on tightly to their pain for fear that letting go will mean forgetting their loved ones. Finding that Middle Way, where the bereaved can safely feel and express their pain and go through their own personal journey of grief, without having a map, but the compass of the grief counselor, is a key component to growing and healing in grief.

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Using Anger Mindfully

Many of us, especially those on the spiritual path, tend to look at anger as an entirely negative emotion.  However, anger used mindfully can be extremely positive, powerful and ultimately healing.  Anger is simply energy, and we always have a choice as to what to do with it. Dzogchen Ponlop, in his recent book Rebel Buddha (2010) aptly states:

We usually think of anger … as negative.  Ordinarily, our impulse would be either to cut through it and get rid of it or to transform its intense energy into good qualities like clarity and patience….[T]he  direct experience of our unprocessed, raw emotions can generate a direct experience of wakefulness. These emotions are powerful agents in bringing about our freedom, if we can work with them properly (p. 144).

So, what do we do that that energy?  We are often afraid to feel its raw power, and fear that expressing it will make us seem less than the kind compassionate people we are.  However, using anger mindfully will actually awaken our compassion, starting with compassionate lovingkindness toward ourselves.

In fact, many people who are compassionate toward others do not treat themselves with the same degree of compassion, and are self-critical and often depressed.  It has been said that depression is “anger turned inward.”  One of the major goals in treating depression in psychotherapy and in grief counseling is to help clients feel safe to express their anger, and turn the energy of anger outward.  “Ex-pressing” anger literally means pushing it out, so that it becomes workable and is not a toxic agent against oneself.

Anger in its pure form, without the “additives” of concept and labeling it as a bad thing, is simply energy.  The key is to harness that energy through the use of mindfulness.  Mindfulness enables us to recognize the anger without simply reacting — either spitting it out against another or turning it against ourselves.  By looking at it without reacting, we have the ability to choose to use our anger productively.

The following are some suggestions for using anger mindfully:

  • Notice how anger manifests in your body — is it a burning sensation in your heart?  A cold tight clenching in the pit of your stomach?  A flush of heat in your face or hands?  Become as familiar as you can with your own unique physical “early warning signs” of anger so you can catch its energy without reacting.
  • As soon as you notice the physical sensation of anger, stop and breathe.  Allow the energy of anger to wake you up to what is actually happening at that moment.
  • Give yourself permission to feel hurt, abandoned, scared, frustrated or sad with a sense of compassion for yourself.  Breathe in light, peace and compassion, and breathe out the dark, heavy sensations of anger without judgment, accepting it just as it is.
  • If you notice the anger turning inward against yourself, continue to breathe it out more forcefully.  Use your body to keep the energy of the anger outward — shake it off your hands into the air, stomp it into the ground with your feet  — whatever it takes not to turn that energy against yourself.
  • Be curious.  Ask yourself:  “What is this feeling?  What is it telling me?”
  • Trust your body to tell you the appropriate course of action.  Is there something you need to say to someone who has hurt you, in a way that will forward your own healing and contribute to the growth of the other person and your relationship with him or her?  Is it something you can simply let be, making sure not to turn the anger inward?

As Stephen Levine (1987) eloquently says, “the investigation of anger…leads us directly to the love beneath, to our underlying nature. When we bring anger into the area where we can respond to it, where we can investigate it, where we can embrace it, it emerges into the light of our wholeness….Then anger is no longer a hindrance, but a profound teacher.”

References

Dzogchen Ponlop (2010).   Rebel Buddha: On the Road to Freedom.  Boston:     Shambhala Publications, Inc.

Stephen Levine (1987).  Healing into Life and Death.  New York:  Doubleday, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.

© 2011.  Beth S. Patterson, MA, LPC.  All rights reserved.

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Mind the Gap: Living in the Space Between Loss and Healing

One of the most difficult phases in any life transition is the space of the unknown between a loss or change, and healing or new beginning.  All life changes, even positive ones, entail a sense of loss or grief.  For example, there is a sense of loss in giving up addictive behaviors like cigarette smoking, despite the fact that the change is a positive one.  Even the change of getting a better job or promotion entails loss — you might be giving up security, relationships and the comfort of the known in making such a change.  The most difficult changes involve the death of a loved one or death of a relationship.

Our lives are always in transition.  Every breath we take involves a transition, from inhaling to exhaling, to the gap or space before the next inhalation.     After the end of a phase in our lives, we have a tendency to jump into something (or someone) new, because that space of the unknown can be so uncomfortable.  William Bridges (1980) calls this space the “neutral zone.” As Bridges explains (p. 112), “one of the difficulties of being in transition in the modern world is that we have lost our appreciation for this gap in the continuity of existence.  For us, emptiness represents only the absence of something.  So, when the something is as important as relatedness and purpose and reality, we try to find ways of replacing those missing elements as quickly as possible.”

Resting in the space of the neutral zone — feeling the pain of our loss, exploring our options, getting to know ourselves on a deeper level — is the key to transformation and growth.   How can we sit in that space of the unknown that feels anything but neutral, without giving in to the impulse to do something?  The first step is to be rather than do, which sounds much easier than it is, until we develop some friendliness toward ourselves and our anxiety.  Notice the impulse, and instead of acting on it, explore it with curiosity:  Where do you feel it in your body?  What is it telling you?  Breathe into it and let it be without having to change it in any way.

Mindfulness meditation, especially mindful breathing, is very helpful in learning how to be in the gap or neutral zone:  Feel the cool air entering your nostrils on the in-breath.  Pause and then feel the warm air leaving your nostrils on the out-breath.  Notice in particular how the out-breath dissolves and experience the space before your next in-breath.

Journaling can also be helpful in navigating the neutral zone.  Journaling helps us get those swirling emotions out of our bodies and head in a way that is workable and spacious.  We can gain some perspective on the stages of our journey — a major function of the neutral zone, and get to appreciate that time as a time for renewal.

Finding a regular time and place to be alone is also helpful in the neutral zone.  The period after a loss is a natural time to turn inward. This time of year, the barren stillness of winter, is also a natural time to turn inward.  Experience the loss of summer’s richness and the loss of the autumn leaves.  Know the gap before spring comes again as a time for renewal.  Without death, there can be no rebirth.

The Christian mystics call this gap and time of turning inward the “dark night of the soul.” It is a time to allow ourselves to feel the pain and despair that is a universal part of the human condition in the face of loss and change.  We may feel bereft and spiritually arid, and it is necessary to feel those feelings in order to transform them.  Despair can be seen as the manure from which spiritual growth and personal transformation arise.  As Michael Washburn so beautifully says in the aptly titled article The Paradox of Finding One’s Way by Losing It (1996), “It is only in the depths of despair that genuine spiritual life is found.  It is a paradox that we sometimes have to lose our way in order to find our true self.  We sometimes have to die to the world and to our worldly self before we can discover that our deepest and truest self was within us all the time.”

REFERENCES

Bridges, W. (1980). Transitions:  Making Sense of Life’s Changes. Cambridge, MA:  Perseus Books.

Washburn, M. (1996).  The Paradox of Finding One’s Way by Losing It:  The Dark Night of the Soul and the Emergence of Faith.  In Sacred Sorrows, Nelson, J.E and Nelson, A., eds. New York:  G. Putnam’s Sons.