In the 12 years that I’ve been involved in exploring and coming to personal understandings about mindfulness, I admit I have not had a great attachment to the conventions of Buddhist practice. Like many others, I have been on Retreat, attended conferences, and trainings, joined several classes and groups, sat a fair amount and read a lot, but I have never felt really comfortable with actions and symbols like, chanting, mantras, prayers, icons, rituals, gestures, bowing and so on. I can see the beauty—the purpose—and I realise how helpful these are to some of us in identifying with a religious belief or particular movement, and I understand the way they may assist our intentions and efforts to sustain the habit of practice; I have nothing against them at all—they’re just not for me. However, although I tend to eschew these historic and deeply meaningful ways, I have to admit……….. I love my bell!
It is a proper Buddhist bell that I bought whilst on Retreat in Nottingham with the Vietnamese Zen Master, Thich Nhat Hanh. Like him, the bell is wonderful, many people admire it and ask me where they can get one, it has a beautiful sound to my ear, and we use the bell as a way of marking the beginning and ending of practice—the passage of time. In the spirit of everyday mindfulness, I have experimented in the past by using non-Buddhist bells, (even a school bell a bicycle bell, and an hotel reception bell on various occasions) and I have used other everyday recorded sounds, but have always come back to this one; my bell. However, until recently, I had not realised the full power of the bell—not only to delight—but also to disturb. I found this out the other day at the beginning of a 6-week ‘Introduction to Mindfulness In Everyday Life’ course that I run at a local library. I soon discovered that one of the people on the course had a serious problem with the bell and could not tolerate the sound or the resonance—this was because she has a condition called hyperacusis, which means she has difficulty tolerating everyday sounds, some of which may seem unpleasantly or painfully loud. On top of that she also has tinnitus, which apparently was being aggravated by the sound sensitivity to the bell. Her immediate and very strong negative reaction to the sound of the bell was to find that it actually increased the suffering she experienced—it was not soothing or pleasant at all. Even if I sounded the bell as quietly as possible, not only was she unable to listen to it before and after each guided awareness session, she found she couldn’t even bear the sound of the same bell when she listened at home to the recordings of practices I gave her. It became clear pretty quickly that she would not be able to continue with the course and something would have to give. This was a conundrum for me and it came quite out of the blue. Should I give up the bell for one person when everyone else (I assumed) likes and appreciates it so much? Or should she be encouraged, as a part of turning towards her own suffering, to learn to be mindful of her reactions and let them take their rightful place alongside all her other awareness so that she could get used to the sounds and not suffer such extreme reactions?
I have worked with people suffering in this way before, but never had the suffering quite so directly associated with the bell—and clearly in this case, it makes perfect sense. So I sat with it to allow some insight and compassion to arrive and as a resolution I came back and offered two things—modified recordings of the practices with no bell sounds at all, and a promise not to use the bell in our weekly sessions. I understood that she might feel she had to drop out anyway, but she was very grateful for these offers, and knowing she would be relieved of the pain of the bell, was happy to continue and very determined to get on with the course and the homework.
It’s not exactly a popular idea, but there is a lot to be said for turning towards suffering, and I’m sure, because we’ve honestly looked at the effects of the bell on the course, it will open doors and allow us to venture into new places. In the end, I decided that we would all gain much more by being able to stay together as a group, experiencing whatever came up for us during the course (the course without the bell for goodness sake!) and having the added possibility that each of us would be able to share these experiences and reach deeper understandings. Rather than have the lady leave, the decision to offer the no-bell options felt right. It seemed to be kind, and I felt more congruent and at ease with myself as a result.
And of course, this post is not about hyperacusis or tinnitus or the sound of the bell, it is really about letting go of attachments—or ‘craving and desire’ as the Buddha put it.
I have been letting go of so many things lately……. I have let go of my mindfulness books to charity so other people can read them. I have let go of the need to be quite so well prepared when I facilitate mindfulness events for others. I did this partly because it was suggested to me by one helpful person in another one of my groups, and I thought I would give it a try. It fits very well with the notion of being able to trust in myself and others and also it means that I’m not striving so hard to achieve desirable outcomes—which is mindful, right? In theory, it also has the effect of enabling me to be more present and available too. I have so much more to let go of every day—often over and over—a lifetimes worth of thoughts, feelings and sensations to accept and let go of. “Dying to every moment”, as Krishnamurti so dramatically tells us.
All this reminds me that there is something here to re-learn and to re-member to be mindful of—and admittedly, it is a recognition of the obvious; we are all different, and others have a lifetime of their own thoughts, feelings and sensations to accept and let go of too! We are different in our perceptions and needs, and well…. we are different in just about every way—except for the fact that we have the same kind of mind that always causes and adds to our suffering by making more of an experience than is actually there. And that’s why I’m letting go of as many attachments as I can—yes, even the bell—because then maybe there’s a chance I might be just a little more present, a little more aware, a little more available—to be able, truly to be with, rather than separate from others.
No-bell no-Self? Well.... just another little bit of Self I let go of anyway!
