Monastery living is very comfortable and safe.

(A Joyful Mind) June 21, 2018: ajoyfulmind.com/wandering In 2011, Tibetan meditation teacher and author Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche left his monastery (lamasery) late at night to go on a "wandering retreat" [just as the historical Buddha taught all monastics to do in the beginning when he set down the practice of the Sangha, the Buddhist "spiritual community" within his Doctrine and Discipline), to let go of colloquialism]. He didn't tell anyone where he was going. He returned 4.5 years later. Visit ajoyfulmind.com to find out more.

(Big Think) Hey, Little Snowflakes, don’t chase happiness. Become anti-fragile, with Dr. Tal Ben-Shahar. Anti-fragility is the idea of putting pressure on a system (such as a human) because by doing so that system grows bigger and stronger.

Antifragile systems are all around us. One example of this is our muscular system. We go to the gym to lift weights. By doing so we are putting pressure on our system to help it grow stronger. The human body is an antifragile system.

From a psychological perspective, antifragility comes in the form of PTG, or "post-traumatic growth." After we experience a stressful event, we learn and grow to become more resilient.

(A Joyful Mind) This is a clip from the feature documentary A Joyful Mind on the neuroscience research of Dr. Richard Davidson.

Deborah Netburn

On a recent Saturday night, the scene was serene inside Tac-tile Mountain, a small, carefully curated shop in Pasadena.

Meditation cushions were laid out on the concrete floor. A sea of white candles was flickering in the window. And then the restaurant next door started blasting “Umbrella” by Rihanna.

The six of us who had gathered inside laughed nervously. We were already excited and a little hesitant. After all, we were there to contemplate our own deaths. Tac-tile Mountain was hosting “Death Reflections,” a two-hour, $55 workshop led by Marifel Catalig, a trained death doula [birthing assistant] and breathwork instructor.

It had been advertised on Instagram as “a breath guided meditation intended to contemplate death in many forms.” The description ended there, so no one knew exactly what to expect.

Going into the workshop, I hoped that spending an hour meditating on my inevitable demise would ease my fear of dying. What I didn’t anticipate is that I would walk out feeling profoundly grateful for all the ordinary, messy, glittering life I’ve been blessed to live so far.

This overwhelming feeling of gratitude is not unusual after a prolonged death exercise, said Ines Testoni, a social psychologist who directs a course on death studies and end of life at the University of Padova in Italy.

“What I have been seeing for 15 years now is that knowing one has to die allows one to value life and feel more grateful for what life allows us to do and enjoy,” she said.

Marifel Catalig, 40, greeted us at the door wearing a white blouse and wide-legged jeans, then asked us to find our seats.

After lighting the candles that were placed at the head of each of our cushions, we began with a gentle movement to release the tension of the day, then focused on our senses — paying close attention to what we could see, hear, taste, feel and smell.

Death meditations are wildly variable. In the Buddhist tradition the practice of maraṇasati, or "mindfulness of death," is designed to remind practitioners that death might come as soon as the next morning, the next meal or even the next breath, and encourage them to act accordingly.

Another Buddhist practice focuses on a detailed visualization of the body’s eventual decay to help relinquish [clinging] attachment to the material world.

I thought it would be scary.

Catalig once attended a death meditation at which participants were wrapped in a white sheet to mimic the shroud they might wear after they die. Another time she led a living funeral workshop where participants were asked to write a eulogy for themselves that she read out loud to the group.

The meditation I attended was simpler. The focus was primarily on the type of life review many people undertake before they die.

Accompanied by a playlist of instrumental music that was more evocative than annoying, Catalig asked us to imagine our earliest memories and consider where we were, who was there, what we felt like, what it smelled like, and what sounds we heard.

We did the same for our early childhood, pre-adolescence, adolescence, early adulthood, and so on. As she spoke, memories of the many lives I’ve lived flashed through my mind. Most of them were mundane, but they filled me with a sense of tenderness.

There I was playing with a Fisher-Price barn on a green carpet, walking to school in new saddle shoes, riding bikes on the sidewalk with my sister. I saw sleepovers and middle school dances, late summer nights wandering around my hometown, blissfully bored and aimless.

I saw scenes from my adult life before kids, my life as a new parent, my life with small children and, finally, my life now — my husband, my teenage sons, my colleagues, my friends, all the different and distinct lives I’ve lived.

“Nobody has lived your life but you,” Catalig said. “All of your experiences, everything that got you here, that belongs to you.”

Then the music shifted, and she asked us to imagine that we were nearing death. Our eyesight was fading, our hearing becoming more muffled. Food didn’t taste as good as it once did, and we were eating less.

In my mind I felt myself receding from the immediacy of life — a fog of gray between me and the world. As my experience of the world became more muted, I felt less afraid of leaving it.

Then Catalig had us imagine our last days. Who would visit us? What would they say? And then we pictured our last breath.

The Buddha was right all along!

“What do you want to breathe in?” she asked. “And what do you want to breathe out?” We imagined hovering above our lifeless bodies, what they would look like, and who would tend to them. For a brief moment, we imagined what might be next. In a society that rarely encourages reflections on death and dying, many of us respond to our innate fear of death with denial, Testoni said.

Carving out time to visualize and imagine our own passing can help us face that fear in a productive way. “Reflection makes us realize that we are afraid of something we do not know,” she said. “Knowing that we don’t know but we can know a lot is definitely reassuring.”

When the meditation was over, Catalig invited us to share about the experience. One participant said the meditation helped her reframe the times in her life when she thought she was a bad person. Instead, she saw herself with more compassion.

Another participant said she felt that her higher self had been with her all along and was still with her. This brought her great comfort.

As for me, I walked out of the store in a state of elation. I was less afraid of dying, but mostly I felt so thrilled to be alive.

Curious to try one of Catalig’s death meditations? Find future offerings on her Instagram page or contact her through her website breathtodeath.com. More + VIDEO

Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche (tergar.org, ajoyfulmind.com) via Paul MacGowan; Amber Larson, Crystal Quintero (eds.), Wisdom Quarterly

Happiness is easy.

A Joyful Mind is a one-hour film about the path to true happiness as portrayed through the life and teachings of Tibetan-Buddhist meditation rinpoche ("precious one") and best-selling author Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche (tergar.org). Through his example we can learn about the simplicity and practicality of meditation (development, cultivation) as a powerful tool for discovering the wisdom, peace, and joy that is already residing within us. Visit ajoyfulmind.com.

 

Crystal Quintero, Dhr. Seven (eds.), Wisdom Quarterly; Steven Johnson (P&P, KABC)

TALK: Steven Johnson traces the development of play and chronicles the essential evolution of popular entertainment using an appealing blend of illustrations, profiles, science, and stories. Our insatiable quest for wonder and novelty has driven technology to achieve the pyrotechnics of rock concerts, the special effects of film, and other mass consumer enchantments (politics-prose.com).

“A house of wonders itself...Wonderland inspires grins and well-what-d’ya-knows.” —The New York Times Book Review

This lushly illustrated history of popular entertainment takes a long-zoom approach, contending that the pursuit of wonder and novelty is a powerful driver of world-shaping technological change.

I'd rather be meditating right now.

Author Steven Johnson argues that, throughout history, the cutting edge of innovation comes wherever people are working the hardest to keep themselves and others amused.

Johnson’s storytelling is just as delightful as the inventions he describes, full of surprising stops along the journey from simple concepts to elaborate modern systems.

He introduces us to the colorful innovators of leisure: the explorers, proprietors, showpersons, and artists who changed the trajectory of history with their luxurious wares, exotic meals, public taverns, gambling tables, and illusory magic shows.

Johnson compellingly argues that observers of technological and social trends should be looking for clues in novel amusements. In the future it’ll be found wherever people are having the most fun.

Praise for How We Got to Now:

That Roadrunner loves it when I give chase.

“Johnson’s writing derives its appeal from his ability to illuminate complex ideas in unpretentious language...Johnson’s prose is nimble, his knowledge impressive...Wonderland is original and fun, as well it should be, given the subject.” —The San Francisco Chronicle

“Wonderland brims with...tidbits, memorable moments, and bits of information that light up the mind.... [Johnson] surprises and delights as he traces the path of how various objects of fun and fancy -- mechanized dolls, follies, and music boxes -- drove advances.” —The Boston Globe

“Mr. Johnson’s narrative is crammed with elegantly told vignettes from the history of ideas.... The book is full of excellent facts.” —The Wall Street Journal

“Johnson...provides a compelling counter-intuitive argument that the Industrial Revolution, democracy, and the computer age were all driven by diversions and appetites that historians too often ignore.” —Kirkus (starred review)

“In an entertaining and accessible style, he takes tangents that arrive at sometimes startling conclusions, like a magician practicing misdirection…Johnson connects the dots in a way that sheds new light on everyday concepts.” —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

“Johnson is a master storyteller, weaving disparate elements together into a rich and seamless tapestry of technology and human history.” —Booklist (starred review)

“An engaging survey full of unexpected connections that readers of a historical or sociological bent will find particularly riveting.” —Library Journal 

More praise
“[Johnson’s] point is simple, important, and well-timed: During periods of rapid innovation, there is always tumult as citizens try to make sense of it.... Johnson...makes their evolution understandable.” —The Washington Post

“An unbelievable book...it’s an innovative way to talk about history.” —Jon Stewart

“What makes this book such a mind-expanding read is Johnson’s ability to appreciate human advancement as a vast network of influence, rather than a simple chain of one invention leading to another, and the result is nothing less than a celebration of the human mind.” —The Daily Beast

“The reader of How We Got to Now cannot fail to be impressed by human ingenuity, including Johnson’s, in determining these often labyrinthine but staggeringly powerful developments of one thing to the next.” —San Francisco Chronicle

“Brilliant.... Johnson is an exemplar of the post-categorical age.... The ‘long zoom’ approach gives Johnson’s book power, makes it a tool for understanding where we stand today, and makes it satisfying.” —New York Times Book Review
 
“A vision of innovation and ideas that is resolutely social, dynamic, and material...Fluidly written, entertaining, and smart without being arcane.” —Los Angeles Times More (Amazon)