The Radical Act of Abandoning Hate

Emotions are running high. Western mindfulness, quoting Rumi, says, ill will, anger, even hate: “Welcome and entertain them all….They may be clearing us out for some new delight.”

The ancient mindfulness texts aren’t as big on this. They say, the path to liberation is to abandon ill will. Give it up! Let it go as if it’s burning your hand – because it is.

Rumi sounds like a good, careful, idea. Letting go sounds even better, but a whole lot more radical. 

Dr. King said, when you’re right, you can’t be too radical. What if the texts are right?  What would happen if we took Dr. King’s advice?

Transcript

Hi everyone, it’s Judi Cohen and this is Wake Up Call 481. How are you? I’m feeling a lot these days, so today I’d like to explore feelings & emotions. From one perspective, the exploration is about how to keep space open for everything, which, especially right now, is plenty. From another, it’s about liberation.

A few things happened this week that pointed me towards this exploration. Monday morning I got to sit with my friends and our teacher, James Baraz (hi James!) in our small teaching and learning community that James leads. Monday night, I was with the Working Group for Law and Meditation, which Norman Fischer leads. Tuesday, I was with the Teachers Collective for the Mindfulness in Law Society. Yesterday I was in class at Berkeley, where we’re at compassion and self-compassion in the syllabus. (That’s my work life – I feel very fortunate.)   

In all four spaces people – including me – brought wholesome and unwholesome states of mind and heart. So right away that was comforting to me, to be reminded that I’m not alone, and hopefully for everyone to know that, too, which I feel like they did, and do. And what I mean by that is I guess the obvious, which is that it was a week of remembering that we’re all human, or as the late, great, mindfulness teacher Wes Nisker used to say, we’re all just midsized mammals. And because of that, we’re all in this together. 

We’re all in this together and this being human means that wholesome states of mind and heart come and go, and so do unwholesome ones. Wholesome ones, meaning, love, compassion, connection, generosity, curiosity, patience, joy – and others. And unwholesome ones, meaning, states of mind and heart that fall into one of the buckets of the “three poisons,” greed, hatred, and delusion. So greed, the mind/heart that wants more or wants things to be different or wants things to be perfect or right, or wants other people to be more or different or perfect (or wrong). Hatred, which includes everything from slight irritation to rage: all the ways we argue with the present moment or take an aversive stance to the present moment, or with or to the person in front of us or the situation we find ourselves in. And delusion, the ways we tune out or frankly, my dear, don’t give a damn. 

The wisdom that I hear a lot, and which feels important as a practical? and maybe safe? first step, is to make space for all of that. In other words, to not stifle or deny how we’re feeling but to welcome it. Because in this moment, which is intense in so many ways, we need safe space: space for feelings, for our states of mind and heart, even space to express those as long as we don’t cause harm when we do that. I feel like it would be terrible if the mindfulness community, of all communities, discouraged us from being aware of how we feel right now, or from sharing about that in skillful ways. We need that permission and those abilities right now. We need to be there for one another around how things feel.  

The way I mostly think of working with unwholesome states of mind and heart, whether we’re working with shock or dismay or anger or overwhelm or confusion or any cousin of ill will, or with desperately wanting things to be other than they are or any cousin of greed, or fervently wanting to be beamed up or any cousin of delusion, is RAIN. You all know RAIN: the R stands for taking a moment to recognize what emotions, feelings, and thoughts are present in a nonjudgmental way, often by flipping the sentence and saying, “anger is present” rather than “I’m angry,” or “trying to get a golden visa for Portugal” instead of “I’m afraid.” It also means remembering self-compassion, because recognizing can be harder than it sounds, because I don’t necessarily want anger to be present, or to have fear, so I don’t necessarily want to admit to my state of mind. Because of that piece, I feel like the R of RAIN, recognize, requires a good bit of courage: a willingness to tell ourselves the truth about what’s happening rather than deny, defend, explain, or justify. 

The ”A” of RAIN stands for allow. Once I know what unwholesome state is present, “allow” is about giving it some air, or some space to run around, and run itself out. This is in formal practice, where my ill will isn’t going to cause harm. In the world – in the office, in the courtroom or classroom or at home, giving ill will space won’t necessarily be good for others, so this piece is best saved, in my experience, for formal practice. 

The ”I” stands for investigating: partly how sorrow, for example, feels in the body, and partly, where it’s coming from, not so I can blame anyone but so I can gain some insight. And finally “N” stands for not identifying with the unwholesome state (I’m not “an angry person,” anger is just present), and for nurturing myself when anger or sorrow is here. 

I love this practice and continue to learn from it whenever I remember to use it. And, my  dear friend and fellow teacher and also teacher to me, Gullu Singh, reminded me yesterday that there’s a next-step practice, which is more, what?, radical?, and which maybe we could say follows from RAIN, and leads to liberation – liberation from the suffering these unwholesome states cause us and really everyone around us when we’re in them. 

The radical practice – and it’s also an ancient practice, outlined in the original mindfulness texts – is the practice of noticing unwholesome states as they arise, and then abandoning them. Just dropping them. The instruction is to pay attention to states of mind and heart as they arise, and when an unwholesome one arises, just let it go.

One ancient teaching, commenting on this process, says, “When one practices in this way, one is called 'a master of the courses of thought.' One will think whatever thought they wish to think and will not think any thought that they do not wish to think. One has severed craving and flung off the fetters, and with the complete penetration of conceit, has made an end of suffering.” 

I got to see this in action, this week, or really, see the fruits of a lifetime of practice, in two of my teachers this week. James, in his check in – and I’d also say others in that group – seemed to me, at least in the 2-hour-long moment we were together – to have mostly dropped ill will, let it go, and to be putting compassion and wisdom into action. And Norman also seemed completely free of ill will. And also what I loved – and this is a lawyers group, so there’s that (and although Norman isn’t a lawyer, he’s been sitting with us for a quarter century) – is that Norman seemed “unfettered” by any of the poisons but was also not in a sweet mood. When he checked in he said, with a lot of love, ”I’ll tell you how I’m doing: I don’t approve. I don’t like what’s happening, I don’t like the harm. I do not approve.” So it was great. It reminded me that the absence of greed, hatred, and delusion can still be fierce and purposeful and intense – so that’s good for us, right? 

And I also thought, being with these two skillful teachers, that there was so much joy, and also what came up for me was faith. Because look, if they can be radical and free themselves from hate, maybe we all can. Maybe we all can.