Zen + Bioenergetics=What?

Zen + Bioenergetics = what?  It is an equation I have been working on for many years.

Zen is based on a 2500 year old Buddhist practice focusing on moment to moment awareness of the present, encouraged by sitting and walking mindfulness practice. In zen practice, we are mindful of our breathing as it  takes us deeper into our experience to discover the wisdom there.  As we notice our breathing, we may begin to wonder, “who breathes,” or “what is breathing?”   We may come up with a few answers, but then our mind hits a blank wall.  This is the mind before words, before thinking—one’s “don’t know” mind.  “The truth is beyond all words,” says Sengstan, an early zen teacher.

In 1975 when I was in a creative writing program, I began experimenting with meditation as a way to open up my creativity.  I began practicing various forms of Buddhist meditation, eventually centering on zen.  Practicing zen at long retreats brought up tension in the middle of the back, usually at the same point in the retreat.  So the question arose, What is that? As I became increasingly aware of tension in my body, in my counseling practice, I also became more aware of tension in others’ bodies,  a subject little talked about in mental health training. I received 2 hours of training in body language in my counseling training program, by a graduate student.  The awareness of body tension led me to the study of bioenergetics, which opened a whole new dimension of knowledge about energy and the body.

Bioenergetics is a 75 year old therapy based on the unity of body and mind developed by Alexander Lowen from the work of Wilhelm Reich.  Bioenergetics works with movement, self-expression, breathwork,  awareness , as well as traditional psychological methods. Bioenergetics helps one work through chronic tension and habitual patterns  allowing one to experience pleasure and a sense of freedom.

During this time, as I practiced as a clinical counselor, I became disenchanted with several aspects of clinical practice.  Words, for example.  So many words.  People need to tell their story, but much of what mental health counselors did relied on words to give meaning and change people’s thinking.  We have this linear thinking self, often correlated with the left brain, that needs to organize the world by words and concepts.  But this method leaves large parts of ourselves untouched–the physical self, the creative self, the imagination, the emotional self.  We let the linear thinking brain drive the therapy and rule the roost.  However, as Gregory Bateson points out, the body and the right brain don’t communicate via linear thinking.  It uses analog communication—metaphor, images, senses, story.

Zen Master Seung Sahn, who studied western philosophy when he was in the university, used to say: “Descartes said, “I think, therefore I am.”   He would then follow this by asking, “So, I don’t think, then what?”  So there are unchallenged philosophical assumptions going on in the therapy process, that create an over reliance on words and the thinking mind.  Words emphasize the very thinking mind and verbal identity that, from a zen point of view, is part of the problem. Zen Master Seung Sahn used to say that westerners had strong “energy up,” which means our energy is all in our head, in our thinking.  So I began to wonder—for people who really want to change, doesn’t verbal therapy just strengthen the energy up?

In addition, I have seen people let go of things at zen retreats, bioenergetic and  breath work workshops, without any need to put a cognitive frame around it.  At one zen retreat, I experienced body tension related to anger; and as I explored it, I felt it extend throughout my body and back into my memories of the past. Then it released itself and let go.  All without a word said.   The point is learning to let go—to not hold onto ideas or emotions.

One time two family therapists interested in bioenergetics asked to attend one of my group workshops. During the workshop I did some deep emotional release work with a regular client of mine who was attending the workshop. I considered verbal processing of the work afterwards but instead we made eye contact and she seemed done. Words would’ve added an unnecessary post script to a complete piece of work. The family therapist asked why I didn’t do the verbal processing and I answered that the experience seemed complete as it was. I got a sense they weren’t satisfied with that answer, but the client later stated that words would’ve seemed a distraction at that point.

If we move beyond words, we also move beyond linear history, which relies on the same parts and pieces view of the world that linear thinking relies on.  We believe in the fiction we have created of minutes, hours, days, years; and we believe that somewhere in our past, something happened, a childhood wound causes our behavior.  But the pain is now, the trouble is now.  The pain is there because we never released it.  Other mammals don’t need therapy because they release the trauma as it happens, but we hold onto the pain, because we’ve learned not to let go. The wound in the past is a memory,  the pain is now and needs to be released now.   We need to learn to release the trauma held in our bodies, through things like bioenergetics, trauma release exercises, spontaneous qigong. Sometimes we need to pick the scab and sometimes we need to let it heal.  The man who trained me in hypnotherapy used to say that to heal a broken leg, you don’t go back and break it again. It is best to focus on healing the present and let the past heal itself.

If  we can let go of the held tension,  we can  also let go of a need for an answer.  Maybe we can stop working so hard on getting ourselves “fixed.”  “If one kills the desire to search, one will find what one is looking for” is an old zen saying.   Someone I know says she stopped going to therapy because she was tired of the assumption on her part and probably the therapist, that  she needed to be fixed—that there was some developmental injury in her childhood that needed to be repaired. 

Zen Master Seung Sahn used to say  that when you are here in the moment, your karmic self, your thinking mind, the thought mass that creates the patterns we define as ourselves, is gone.  Living in the moment there is just that moment.  In this moment, one is complete. A saying from The Compass of Zen goes:  “One by one each thing is complete.  One by one, each thing has it.”  I was sitting in the interview room with Zen Master Dae Kwang, when he had me read these statements. There was a sense of opening and letting go.  I was complete.  The situation was complete. There is that fundamental wholeness which each of us has.  We are ok, just as we are.  “Without cultivation, you are already complete.” 

From zen, I learned these two things that I brought into therapy:  moment to moment mind, and grounding ourselves in our fundamental completeness.  Zen Master Seung Sahn use to say, “Believe in oneself 100%.” One of my jobs as a therapist is to believe in the people I work with and help them believe in themselves.

So if I believed the zen point of view had so much to offer, why not just do zen?  When some of my bioenergetic group members went to zen practice, they found it useful, but also thought the zen students would be helped by bioenergetics.   With just zen, I felt people sometimes avoided the emotions and the relationship part of the equation.  Sitting on the cushion putting effort into just attaining that “awake” state, the absolute self, people would strengthen the zen part of the equation but  ignore the emotional and relationship part of the equation represented by  bioenergetics.  John Welwood, a well known meditation teacher and therapist, coined the phrase “spiritual bypassing,” to refer to this phenomenon. 

So, why not just do zen?  Because energy work is an effective means of bringing people more into the present. It helps release body tension which constricts awareness.  It helps people let go. It can be more effective than just sitting.  Dhiravamsa, a former Buddhist monk,  leads workshops that include vipassana, a mindfulness practice similar to zen,  and bioenergetics.  On utilizing body and energy work in Buddhist practice,  Dhiravamasa said:

As for the practice of meditation, bodywork and massage help release tensions and energy patterns brought to the surface through the meditative process, . . . It is very obvious to all participants in my work that after each bodywork session, meditators can sit more comfortably and go deeper into a meditative state. 1

In the Kwan Um Zen School, Zen Master Seung Sahn  brought in zen wind exercises, a form of Buddhist qi gong,  utilizing meditative movement and breathing.

So Zen + Bioenergetics = What? 

As I have continued to sit with the question of what do you get when you bring together zen and bioenergetics, the answer evolved in my practice.  If you are sitting or standing and paying attention to the moment,  then a thought, an impulse, a sensation, a feeling arises from the ground of our body, leading to—movement.  So movement by movement we express ourselves, coming from that ground of our total self.  Put zen and bioenergetics together and you get movement.  Put them together and you get something like qi gong.

Functionally, this means doing a combination of meditative and bioenergetics exercise, beginning in stillness and awareness, moving into energy as people release tension, and then back to a deeper awareness in stillness. The workshops I do alternate  periods of silence and music,  individual work and creative movement in a group.  There is a limited amount of talking, at the beginning and end.  Combining both awareness work and energy work, it is like a zen bioenergetic retreat with the goals of moment to moment awareness,  acceptance and letting go.

As people do the creative movement in the workshop together, it becomes a dance, a dance of the self, and as one does it with others, as we breathe and move and dance together, we are building a creative and healing community.  In the workshop, we are moving and dancing together as a community, a sangha, a tribe.

At a retreat one December, Zen Master Soeng Hyang (Barbara Rhodes, “Bobby”) allowed me to lead some evening stretching sessions.    One night I led 45 minutes of bioenergetic, zen wind and yoga movements and exercises.  Here, zen met bioenergetics—movement as meditation, energy work combined with awareness work. From Bobby, I heard great reports from the participants when they returned to their  sitting with more focus and physical comfort.  This was it—zen and bioenergetics.

If when you put zen and bioenergetics together you get movement, when you put zen and bioenergetics movement in a group with music, you get a dance.  And, as  we move, breathe and dance, we  discover what is most human in ourselves—our compassion, our creativity, our ability to move and express ourselves, to find our creative and growing edge—grounding us in our fundamental self so we can reach out, to move with and be moved by others.

1.Dhiravamsa.  Turning to the Source:  Blue Dolphin Publishing, 1990.  P 219.

Hide and Seek with myself: finding the lost key

I lost my key the other day. I spent a day searching for it— in the key drawer, in the bowl in my bedroom where I keep my pocket items, on the steps, in the car. Nowhere. All this time I had an image that kept coming up  of the chest on which I leave my reading materials. My thought was I should check there, but did I check there? No I did not. Desperate, the next day I did check there and there it was. I found the key under my papers. I was playing hide and seek with myself.

It strikes me that this is like a lot of things in our life—we really do know the answer. We have the answer and it keeps nudging at us, but instead of following that suggestion we continue to look in all of our old favorite places, follow our favorite routines.  And we don’t follow the less demanding image, the less insistent voice that indeed may lead us to the answer.

This of course could relate to any number of things in our life— job, children, relationships, a wellness routine, a health regimen—making any change in our life. For many of the changes in our life we know what to do yet we keep following the same patterns,  looking the same old places for an answer that isn’t there, that was never there.

This reminds me of the story about Mullah Nasrudin, the wise fool of Sufi teaching stories. He’s down on his knees in the street outside his house, searching for something. A friend comes by and asks the Mullah what he is looking for.  The Mullah says, “My keys.” In a short while there are several friends helping him look. Finally one of them asks, “Are you sure you lost your key here?” The Mullah replies, “No I lost it inside my house. “ Then why are you looking out here? The Mullah replies, “There’s more light out here.”

Where the wild things are

Be alert, you may be the prisoner of the fake you!    You may find that you live in a jail that is made from powerful and artificial components of human society.   

Master Waysun Liao, in   Chi

In the children’s book, Where the Wild Things Are, Max goes to the land of the wild things and he discovers (spoiler alert!) he is the wildest thing of all. 

This is like bioenergetic therapy. One of the exercises I do in my workshops and groups  is to work the jaw.  We all hold a lot of tension there, from holding back all the things we want to say to people, and don’t.  From wanting  to “bite people’s heads off,” when we don’t.  So we work the muscles and then I have them growl, first in general and then to each other.  Most people end up laughing because it is such a relief—all the times we have wanted to growl at people and we haven’t.  I saw a red squirrel the other day, chattering away, and his chattering vibrated his whole body.  Maybe we can learn to express ourselves with our whole body; maybe we can learn to voice our soul from the soles of our feet.

The wild self, the natural self, is often pushed down by our civilized self and we feel embarrassed when we let it out.  This has been called the “id,”  the “it”—talk about disowning a part of one’s self.  And the ego, our talking thinking self, has for uncountable time been trying to blame all the bad stuff on it—human violence, for example, when that often is the result of the ego and superego.  In “The Americanization of Emily,” Charlie, played by James Garner, blames war on the people trying to be good.  “It’s not greed or ambition that makes war: it’s goodness. Wars are always fought for the best of reasons: for liberation or manifest destiny.” Think of all the religious wars.

Reich, whose work led to bioenergetics, branched off from Freud before the latter started talking about, ego, id, and superego.  Reich’s work focused on developing the concept of libido which eventually became body energy, “bioenergy.”

So in the workshops what I want to help people discover, what I too want to discover is that untamed alive part of ourselves,  because that is closer to our core self than the everyday thinking self is, and it is the part of us that feels connected to the life and people around us.

In The Practice of the Wild, poet and deep ecologist Gary Snyder  talks about the body as the wild part of ourselves, our wilderness,  and that our conscious mind is trying to civilize our wilderness.  Some radical political theory goes even further and talks about how we “colonize” and exploit ourself. Fritz Perls in Gestalt simplified this into the top dog/under dog division he worked with so often in his therapy,

However, you frame it, the bottom line is there are parts of ourself that are working for goals we have drawn from our culture, our family and our thinking self, that don’t match what the rest of us, our body, our senses, imagination, and emotions want.  This incongruence can make us sick, unhappy, depressed, anxious.  In the protest rallies in the 60s and 70s, the speaker would yell, “What do you want?” “Freedom,” everyone  yelled. “When do you want it?” “Now.” So what do you want?

An end of summer moment

Tiny pearls of dew on the grass.  A slight chill in the air–end of summer.  I seem to have settled into a place of peace. Overgrown leaves of grass crisscross each other–– a tangle of  green with tips of dew, glinting in the sunlight.  Small drops of moisture floating down through the air. At times one can settles into these quiet  places. A slight rustle of the trees.

Just being present in the moment,  the senses come alive and open up to more of what’s around.  One pull at the thread of sight leads you into a sound of a bird and soon one is in a tapestry of the senses, and you are a figure in the weaving, interwoven.

This happened once during a vipassana retreat, settling into a place of peace and deep awareness, seemingly without effort.  I asked the monk U Silananda  about it and he called it “Grace.”  Maybe because otherwise he couldn’t explain this state happening to someone like me, with so much thinking going on.  He said these experiences come and go.  They aren’t a permanent state.  What else would you expect a Buddhist monk to say? But for a moment there it was, just like today.

We want permanence, but it is best to take it as it comes,  and today I am very content to let things come. Another rustle in the top of the trees. The increasing warmth of my body as the sun rises in the sky. 

There is a scene in the novel Taipan where the “taipan” a very pragmatic and not very religious man was sitting in a Jesuit Garden. He’d just been through an emotional ordeal which had been resolved with the help of the Jesuits.  And he was just sitting there appreciating the garden in the moment, appreciating the beauty of the world and the life around him.  The abbot enters and pauses, watching the man. Eventually he approaches the man and says to him, “You were very close to God right then.”  The taipan disputes it. But there he is settled in the moment feeling connected with the life around him, even if he doesn’t want to recognize it as being close to God.

Of course, then we have to get up and face the rest of the world with its challenges.  And our challenge is carrying this space out into the world.  There is the story of a Zen master shouting at his student, “God does not exist…” the man turns around to leave and the Zen master says quietly ,” but he is always with you.” It’s good to remember—its always there even when we’re not aware.