Why We Meditate : Part 3

How to Meditate: A Guide to Self-Discovery
by Lawrence LeShan

(Page 3 of 3)

There are also other reasons. One of these (I shall discuss others in later chapters) rests on a theory of how to reorganize the personality structure therapeutically. "If we look deeply into such ways of life as Buddhism or Taoism, Vedanta or Yoga," wrote Alan Watts, "we do not find either philosophy or religion as these are understood in the West. We find something much more nearly resembling psychotherapy."4 In this area, mysticism and Western psychotherapy follow different paths to the same goal. If I have a severe anxiety attack and go for help to a psychotherapist, she will attempt to aid me primarily by exploring the content of the problem: what is it focused on, what is the content of its symbolic meaning on different personality levels? The therapist will work on the theory that as the content is reorganized and troublesome elements brought to consciousness, the structure of my personality will also reorganize in a more healthful and positive manner.

If, however, with the same anxiety attack, I go for help to a specialist in meditation, she will attempt to aid me primarily by strengthening and reorganizing the structure and ability to function of my personality organization. She will give me various exercises to practice in order to strengthen the overall structure of this organization. She will work on the theory that as the structure is made stronger and more coherent by these exercises, content that is on a no ideal level (i.e., material that is repressed and causing symptoms) will move to preferable levels and will be reorganized properly.

Both theories are valid and both approaches "work." Both are also in primitive states of the art and there is a great deal of nonsense at present in both mystical and psychotherapeutic practices. Perhaps ultimately we may hope for a synthesis of the two, combining the best features of each and discarding the concretistic thinking and superstition presently found in both. This would certainly lead to a much more effective method, but unfortunately there is very little research in this direction at present. A few psychologists and psychiatrists - such as Arthur Deikman, M.D. - have been experimenting with this synthesis and doing some excellent work with it. A bare beginning is being made.

Comprehension of Another View of Reality

The second major result reported by mystics of all times and places, and aimed at in their training by all mystical schools, is the comprehension of a different view of reality. I use the term "comprehension" here to indicate an emotional as well as an intellectual understanding of and participation in this view.

This is a strange and difficult claim. What can the mystic mean when he refers to a different view of reality? Is not reality what is "out there" and is not our task to understand "it"? If there are two different views, must not one be "right" and the other "wrong"? If the mystic says that there are two equally valid views, is there not a basic contradiction?

The problem is a real one. On the one hand we know our usual view of reality is essentially correct. Not only does it "feel" right, but we operate in it far too efficiently; the results of our actions are predictable enough so that it is obvious that our assumptions about the nature of reality (on which we base our actions) must be correct.

On the other hand, a large number of serious people - including many of those whom humanity regards very highly - have stated clearly that they were basing their actions on a quite different view of how the world works. They also state that they "know" this other view to be valid. And, to make it worse, they also appear to achieve their ends, to operate efficiently in the world, often to have a large effect on it. They also claim to have achieved serenity and joy in their lives, and outside observers report that their behavior appears to bear out this claim.

I shall discuss in some detail this other viewpoint about the nature of reality in Chapter 3. Perhaps it will suffice here to say that if we have learned one thing from modern physics, it is that there may be two viewpoints about something which are mutually contradictory and yet both viewpoints are equally "correct." In physics this is called the principle of complementary. It states that for the fullest understanding of some phenomena we must approach them from two different viewpoints. Each viewpoint by itself tells only half the truth.

The mystic does not claim that one way of comprehending reality, of being at home in the universe, is superior to the other. He claims rather that for his fullest humanhood, a person needs both. The Roman mystic Plotinus said man must be seen as an amphibian who needs both life on land and life in the water to achieve his fullest "amphibianhood." So, also, a person needs to be at home in the world in two different ways - one can call them "different states of consciousness" or "use of different systems of metaphysics" - for one's fullest development. In a curiously similar way the Indian mystic Ramakrishna likened man to a frog who, in his youth, lives as a tadpole in one medium only. "Later, however," wrote Ramakrishna, "when the tail of ignorance drops off," he needs in his adulthood both land and water for the fullest attainment of his potential.

It is this second way of perceiving reality that is one of the goals of meditation. And, indeed, those who have attained it and gone on to make a working fusion of the two ways, so that one is, at one time, the background music for the other and vice versa, certainly claim and appear to others to be leading much fuller and richer lives than before and than the rest of our race do. Certainly they are also the kind of person it is a pleasure to share our planet with. These, then, are the goals of meditation. It is indeed a sort of "coming home."

In the rest of this book I will discuss the nature of this other view of reality, the basic structure of meditations and the major forms they take, and the psychological and physiological effects of meditation. I will then present detailed instructions for a sample of meditations, covering most of the major forms. After that is a section on common errors ("alluring traps") in meditation and mysticism, and a concluding discussion on the value of meditation to the individual and society.

I had originally intended to include a chapter on the major mystical and meditational training schools, such as Yoga, Zen, Sufi and Gurdjieff. However, it soon became plain that it would be foolish to try to abbreviate briefly what has already been done so well and is widely available today. For most of the major schools, the best I could possibly hope for is a very poor man's version of Jacob Needleman's classic, The New Religions (New York: Doubleday, 1970). Huston Smith in his Religions of Man (New York: Harper & Row, 1958) has covered the major religions far better than I could. For Christian mysticism, Evelyn Underhill's Mysticism (New York: E. P. Dutton, 2nd ed., 1930) is still the definitive work. For Hasidic mysticism, Martin Buber's Tales of the Hasidim (New York: Schocken, 1967) seems to me to be the best overview. For a first survey of these schools, or if you are considering training in one of them, I would recommend Needleman's The New Religions.

Serious meditation is hard work, often frustrating and yet deeply satisfying, and the oldest and newest great adventure for man. I hope it will mean as much to you as it has to me.

© 1999 by Lawrence LeShan

About the Author

Lawrence LeShan, a pioneer in exploring the therapeutic and ethical implications of meditation, is a practicing psychotherapist. He lives in New York City.