negativity and mindfulness

Most of my life has been spent in California, but in my late 20s I lived for a year in New York as a medical intern in Manhattan.

California has a reputation for being chill. Having been raised here, I accepted the expectation that people will avoid directly criticizing or challenging others. I took as a given the idea that everyone will act nice. The problem, of course, lies in the word ‘act’. Acting nice isn’t honest (or healthy) if you actually feel angry or resentful. Others won't know about your needs, and they won't know where they stand. Resentment and confusion will follow.

Perhaps because of some mild autism, I have a hard time seeing through such acts. Often I’ll conclude someone is my enemy only after they do something behind my back to undermine me. And even then, if they smile the next time I see them, I’m likely to doubt my conclusion. This confusion has proven difficult to overcome, though when I'm careful to seek the counsel of deep, intuitive feelings, I sometimes can protect myself from harm. 

I've made more progress in my own tendency to act nice. In the past, I’d often ignore my own needs for too long, until I exploded with frustration, ending relationships and diminishing my social standing. Mindfulness has helped me better feel my needs and express them more skillfully.

New Yorkers have their own reputation. Before I moved there, I’d heard they were rude and pushy. What I found instead was honesty—however bluntly expressed.

The outspoken honesty in New York came as a relief. I didn’t have to figure out what people thought of me; they told me. At first my California sensibility felt shocked, but I quickly appreciated how much needless effort is saved when people simply say what they mean.

In one of our meditation clubs recently, someone expressed anger about an incident that had happened in a prior session. She said she needed to say something even though being negative wasn’t, she thought, being mindful.

It was one of those teaching moments, which my experience with New York helped me negotiate. There is real value in honesty, even if our feelings are 'negative', and it is a prerequisite for mindfulness. We need to be honest with ourselves about our own experience. And if we are going to take mindfulness into the world at large, we also need to be honest with others.

In Buddhist literature, a key value is “knowledge and vision of things as they actually are.” The point is that mindfulness aims for accuracy, not positivity. If negative feelings arise, we don’t ignore them or try to make them more positive. We assess their source and accuracy, then decide how to respond.

Where do feelings come from? Consider these four sources: 1. Inherited tendencies, such as the common fear of snakes. 2. Childhood history, such as fear of loud voices in someone whose parents argued violently. 3. Cultural expectations, such as the expectation that ‘good people’ don’t have (or won’t reveal) shortcomings. 4. Moral sensibility, such as the insistence on fairness expressed by children, which has been demonstrated at very young ages and is also exhibited by animals.

Notice how, in every case, the feelings are providing useful information. Inherited fears protect us from hazards that have never harmed us, but which could cause major illness or injury. They advise caution. Childhood fears may be outdated, but they let us know we’re in a situation somehow similar to ones that caused pain in the past. Cultural fears let us know what others expect. We may or may not want to live by those expectations, but it’s probably always helpful to know about them. Moral fears help us avoid harming others and doing violence to our better nature. Sometimes—to be true to ourselves—we need to cross a moral line because of another, more important moral consideration. But if we cross it out of selfishness, we end up degrading our sense of worth, even if we don’t admit it to ourselves.

So if we feel angry, it is mindful to acknowledge the feeling and consider what it’s saying, what information it contains. And it’s also mindful to let others know when something causes anger, if doing so can be done by speaking honestly, for a wholesome purpose, with as much kindness as the situation permits, and timed to maximize the possibility of the message being heard as intended. A sudden angry outburst doesn’t meet these standards, and is a place where my inner New Yorker can learn a little from my inner Californian. But balance is possible, and required.

Usually, we want to go slowly, reflect on the situation and our feelings, with the aim of gaining knowledge and vision of what’s really going on. It’s often best to wait to express the feelings to allow time for reflection, as did the woman in our meditation group. Sometimes, however, if imminent harm must be prevented, there may not be much time for reflection. That’s when it helps to have practiced mindfulness for a while, so we have the capacity to meet and express strong feelings in effective ways. Or, at least, our odds of doing so are higher.

The main point is: to be mindful is to be honest, even when honesty goes against the cultural expectation that a person who meditates should always be “Zen”. As we navigate this difficult terrain, the Buddhist guidelines for right speech, implied above, are useful:

• Is what you’re about to say true?

• Is it helpful?

• Can you say it without undue harshness?

• Is this the right time?

If the answer is ‘yes’ in every case, then it is mindful to say it, even if it might sound negative. If you want to learn more about how to communicate difficult feelings, I recommend the writings and programs of Oren Jay Sofer.