I do not presume that my relationship with my emotions are standard. But any presumed deviance reminds me that every person develops their own, idiosyncratic relationship with their emotions. “Emotions” is a variegated and complex concept, being composed of so many layers and distinctions. Even when just briefly considered. For example emotions as physical sensations, as “emotional” sensations, as forces of resistance and attraction, as echoes of habituation, as modifiers of consciousness, as motivators of behaviour, as modes and modules of communication, and as the focus or distraction of attention.
For this passage in time let me consider emotions as an anecdote, which is to mean: let me consider, and intend to transliterate, some particular experience and memories of mine.
Noticing anxiety as a distraction
Sometimes when I watch the breath, other thoughts enter my awareness (sounds, pains, fantasies, memories) and I become distracted by them. Sometimes other thoughts enter my awareness and I notice them with momentary distraction. Sometimes other thoughts pass by my awareness like the wind passing through the branches of a tree.
Sometimes I am concentrating on my breath, attempting to watch it vividly, attempting to be diligent in every moment, attempting to develop a strong focal point. Sometimes I am doing this and I cannot find the sensation of the breath, or it is a very crude and delusional experience – “crude” meaning that the textures of the breath appear in chunks of time and space, instead of flowing, and “delusional” meaning that I seem to see things that I am not sure are there, perhaps due to my strong expectations.
Sometimes I notice that I am repeatedly struggling to find the breath and I look around my awareness to see if anything is distracting me. Sometimes I am compelled to acknowledge the distracting nature of a phenomenon I had been ignoring, or convincing myself that I was already aware of it, or that I was rejecting mindlessly. Sometimes this distracting, mindless phenomenon reveals itself as a pain in my chest and an amorphous anxiety.
Noticing anxiety as pain
Once I have noticed the strong anxious distraction in my chest I can begin to study it. I first notice its sensory dimensions, which reveal themselves as colours of pain and moving shapes, and intensity in space. The nature of pain is that it demands to be known so that it may be escaped. Pain controls itself by insisting upon the actions that serve its dismissal. (It is easy to imagine scenarios in which pain has taught itself to serve dysfunctionality; seeking itself to rediscover its own relief).
In my recent experiences, when noticing the severe anxiety that prevents the mind from achieving any concentration, and which had been ignored or suffocated by the mind’s rejections – the anxiety appears as a discomfort in my chest. And when I focus on this discomfort, it reveals itself to be a dense, sharp shard of pain in my chest.
It is not easy to watch this pain. I presume that some of the difficulty stems from the habits of the mind, which have learned to suppress this feared sensation by rejecting it, and by distracting the mind with other phenomena which grow out of this anxious phenomenon. But when I do succeed in focusing on the pain of the phenomenon, I notice how it flares into acidic, caustic tendrils, and limbs that prickle and like sharp dry leaves. I notice how there is a small tight, dark and concentrated ball of pain, which appears and disappears beneath the tides (of attention), and moulds and morphs, contracting and repeating.
I have predominantly noticed the pain in my left chest, yet when I sent my attention to explore, I discover that there are also pains in the centre of my chest, and in my right chest. This anxious pain is deceiving, and among the few certainties are that it is not equivalent to its first impressions.
Noticing anxiety as a place of rejection
As I study the anxiety in my chest, I am repeatedly forced to return to it from distractions. This pattern of moving away from the pain, noticing the displacement, and then returning to the pain, becomes familiar with repetition. The pain seems to repel attention. The surface of the pain feels slick and slippery to the grasp of a concentrating mind.
Sometimes it seems impossible to attend to the pain more than momentarily, before becoming distracted by considerations and thoughts. Sometimes I can seem to only notice it in passing before becoming obsessed with the difficulty of the task. Sometimes I grasp the pain and ride its metamorphoses yet soon discover that my mind has been transported elsewhere.
I can begin to be attentive to this rejecting nature of the anxious sensations. I can begin to attend to the movement of the mind away from the sensations. I can begin to attend to the combination of pain and rejection of pain, whilst intending not to similarly reject this combination in my awareness.
It is no wonder that it is so difficult to stay in the present moment when there is so much conditioned grasping and rejecting.
Noticing anxiety as bubbling noise
As I study the anxiety as a sensation of pain, and as I study the anxiety as a place of rejection, then I begin to notice the mechanisms of the rejection. it appears like rapid bubbles of thoughts and ideas and prompts, that rise from the darkness and suffering and memories of the anxiety.
It is no wonder that it is so difficult to stay in the present moment when there is some much-conditioned grasping (of thoughts I must attend to) and rejection (of thoughts I must not know).
The thoughts appear strongly, and rapidly, although I can be misled since I may be so distracted by one that I never notice the others. The thoughts pull me in so smoothly and blindly that I may be misled as to their origin, forgetting my focus on anxiety. The thoughts are so compelling and familiar that I analyse and process them rapidly, and I may be misled as to their train, forgetting that there was a singular prompt thought left far behind.
Sometimes I catch the first thought, the prompt that spurs a flock of worries and considerations. Sometimes I notice this thought, and immediately lose sight of it, instead left with a vague and silhouette impression. Perhaps some thoughts are so well conditioned by rejection that they deflect all awareness – preferring to send the mind into myriad distractions and secondary and tertiary and nth chain-linked apropos’.
An anxiety that pauses but never ends
This observation of my experiences meditating on anxiety do not conclude in resolution (nor a final enlightenment). The traveller is the journey, and this journey is a manifestation of the traveller who explores emotions. But the traveller’s journey is also a sequential procedure, and early steps manifest themselves within latter steps – this is to admit that there do appear to be some consequences of change after practising meditations on anxiety.
There is some development in considerations of anxiety’s causes (via suggestions of the bubbling noise). There is some increased capacity to recognize anxiety’s sensations (especially along a more subtle axis of presentation). There is even an occasional relief from the incessant nature of a perennial anxiety during the meditation (perhaps a sudden swallowing and a tingling, pleasant sensation). There is often a reduced attending to anxiety after meditation (helped by the coarse concerns of active experience). There is some increased capacity to ride the tendrils and pressures and manifestations of anxiety (quicker to notice its earliest signs, and quicker to move with its pacing).
