The Danger Inherent in Modern Secular Meditation
Modern secular meditation focuses on techniques taken from ancient spiritual traditions, while jettisoning their deep wisdom born of long experience working with practicing meditators over centuries. Even the original purpose of traditional meditation techniques — that of discovering our true nature — is ignored.
Almost everyone wants the low-hanging fruit of meditation — the wondrous health effects it is rightfully touted for — which are beneficial and readily accessible to those willing to make the effort to learn and practice these techniques. But these were never considered to be the focus or goal of traditional meditation. Instead they were side-effects of the actual practices.
I frequently hear people say that meditation is so much better without all the religious ideas suffocating it. Some even find yoga threatening because of its “spiritual connections.”¹ Perhaps it would be better if the unique nomenclature of yoga was jettisoned too… so the sentiment goes. So founders and teachers of secular meditation practices who remove the explanatory support of the traditional doctrines are rewarded for providing a more generally acceptable product, but then are surprised when negative things start happening.
Given the seemingly widespread desire to keep religion and meditation separate from each other, how well does the traditional goal of meditation fair in the secular environment? I think it is not too far-fetched to say that most individuals today ridicule even the possibility of any such “mystical” changes and experiences as were originally part of doing these practices. And as I’ve already shown in this series of Meditations of Science, the scientific enterprise is perhaps the most vociferously disdainful of the traditional explanatory systems — labeling them “religious dogma” — and such scientists often do not make the smallest effort to understand them before condemning them.
Some traditions speak of two types of meditation, insight meditation (vipassana) and calm meditation (samatha). In fact the two are indivisible facets of the same process. Calm is the peaceful happiness born of meditation; insight is the clear understanding born of the same meditation. Calm leads to insight and insight leads to calm.²
Further, it is becoming increasingly apparent that not all of meditation’s effects are necessarily benign, and that it is indeed possible to have too much of a good thing; meditators sometimes report feelings of depersonalization or derealisation, as the self and the world take on a strange, fake or staged quality.³
Because of this state of affairs, I realized, not too long ago, that the explosion of interest in meditation, and the concomitant deployment of teachers of meditation with little or no experience with the long-term results of the techniques they were teaching, was unfortunately going to result in the incidence of an unknown number of psychologically debilitated people.
And it was going to be worsened by the absence — within these secular meditation contexts — of any explanatory system in place to help these individuals come to terms with the direct meditative insights that were — and still are — the expected stages along the path to enlightenment.
Instead, these people are blamed for what happens to them. How convenient for the teachers who, having opened a can of worms, don’t feel the need — or perhaps do not even realize that they should — to explain to their students that there may be sharp edges, so to be careful not to cut themselves on them.
And of course, scientists do not need to bother themselves for the most part because they have already passed judgement — thus anything that happens is on the sufferer.
I’m speaking, as always, from personal experience here. I started meditating during my fifth year — without instruction from a teacher — and, as I learned decades later, using a little-known technique of meditation⁴ formerly found in the Dzogchen practices of both Tibetan Buddhism and Bön (and elsewhere in different forms). I am mentioning that last bit only because it affected my passage through the so-called Dark Night in a unique way.
After the death of my mother when I was five, I, like all very young children, found a way to comfort myself before sleep — I focused my attention in a particular way until a high-pitched tone became apparent, and then I focused on that so that it would build in pitch. But rather than blocking out all other sounds, it served as a backdrop to an immense tapestry of sound that I could then focus on. I invariably focused on the water sounds — but at the time, it sounded like the murmur of people talking, like in a cafe absent traffic noises, and that comforted me by removing my loneliness.
Doing this every night for ten years left me very troubled by the age of sixteen, however, because of the direct meditative insights that I was having, and it took me decades to come to terms with those insights on my own. Without any explanatory system at hand to comprehend what was happening to me, I had to find my own way through the dislocations that occurred because of the very real effects accompanying my meditation — and those effects arise whether you want them to, or not.
It may be the case that the particular technique I was using was the cause of what I experienced, but if you do the research, as I did decades later, you will find widespread similarities between the various traditions and their use of, and guidance for, meditation techniques of all types. And you will also see, as I did, that the particular troubling events I had had to deal with are common and expected across all traditional meditation practices.
So I stopped meditating completely during my sixteenth year, and for a few decades after, prolonging the damage. It was only when I had finally found a way to integrate the meditative experiences from my youth into a coherent structure in which the rest of my life and world could fit coherently, that I was finally able to once again move forward.
Looking back now, I see how unnecessary much of that suffering was. And my personal suffering reinforces a Buddhist prescription that I’ve heard: “Better not to start; but if started, better to continue on to the end.” Sadly, I’ve never seen that warning in any mindfulness meditation manuals…
Stopping in the middle of the process of enlightenment can be dangerous indeed. If only I had looked to a spiritual tradition for help somewhere along the way! But I didn’t because I didn’t realize that what I had been doing nightly for over a decade was meditation. I thought that meditation had something to do with martial arts, probably because of a television series that I watched,⁵ back when I was sixteen. But by then, I had already stopped doing it.
My case, though, was a special one, and certainly different from those that occur today when someone attends an intensive meditation retreat and has experiences that those teaching the retreat are not prepared to deal with. I didn’t have a teacher, so you might think I was in a worse position, but as I have come to realize over the years, I was more fortunate in that there is a particular and unique side-effect of the meditation technique I happened to be using that protected me from the worst of the effects — although at a cost.
You see, It was less disruptive in a psychological sense for me because those sounds that I listened to gave me an anchor upon which I could seek refuge when those direct experiences tore down the facade of reality of things that — it became obvious to me — arise and pass away continuously, lacking any inherent stability or identity.
I call these sounds inner spontaneous sound, but they have dozens of names owing to the fact that each major tradition made up their own. So when my direct meditative experiences tore down the facade of reality about things, I had already become accustomed to these perpetual resonances of my story being weaved around me. Thus, those classic meditative disruptions, which the researcher in the quote above from The Guardian article referred to as “depersonalization or derealisation,” had a softer impact — still terrible to my young mind, but offering me a buffer from the full impact.
Having found the presence of these inner spontaneous sounds, I always had that counter-presence to reduce the trauma of the direct meditative insights that came my way — the Arising & Passing Away, No Inherent Self, and the perspective-reversal of Now (Mahamudra). I was always reassured that, as the traditional insights arose, there was still something real.
That’s how I explain it today, after decades of trying to make sense of what happened then, but at the time, I was just comforted by the sounds of “human conversation…”
Someone might suggest that I had become disassociated from my reality, given the modern penchant for psychologizing every human thought, emotion, and deed, but I’d like to point out that given the now story-like character of the “real world,” both when I was an infant and now, I was turning towards what is evidence of the real, and thus fully responding to that: inner spontaneous sound, rather than the story unfolding around me. When your mother calls and you turn away from your playtime, is that a dissociation that is occurring? Not at all, your mother’s call is what is real, your play is just a story. Which is healthier? To stay so lost in the story that you ignore what is real (your mother), or paying attention to she that gave you life?
What disturbed me the most though was the obvious conflict between what I knew and what I was being taught by my teachers, family, and society.
I say “what I knew,” because these were not debatable and doubtful ideas, but rather, they were direct experiences unmediated by any conceptual understanding — I was, after all, a very young child. You can debate ideas all day long and never get to a conclusion. You can question the assumptions implicit in any concept. You can even deride an understanding that someone has taken from a direct observation of something. But you cannot call into question that something happened, and that is the relevant essence of the types of direct experiences that I am speaking of.
It is that a particular “something” happened while I was meditating, that was prior to any attempt on my part to categorize it, name the piece-parts, or understand it. It was a series of events during my early years that forced me to question our most fundamental understanding of ourselves, and the world around us — because they shouldn’t have happened if the generally accepted theory of what’s happening⁶ is valid.
And more than any other consideration, I am writing about this because what makes these experiences so dangerous are that they are impossible to ignore once they have arisen — they cannot be undone because they break our trust in the worldview that we are inculcated with. And like any break of trust, it is a long hard path to regain it. I never did. It’s still just a story that we all try to make sense of, with varying degrees of success (and varying accretions of assumptions).
I would like to offer a scenario to illustrate what I mean about these experiences and why their happening is what has the powerful effect, rather than any particular meaning or response attached to them. This scenario brings out a different dimension that is simply about trust, rather than content, meaning, emotions, psychological makeup, or feelings in response to them.
I want to do this because these direct experiences that are expected to occur in traditional meditation fundamentally break our trust in our own understanding — about ourselves and the entire context of our lives. That is how these techniques accomplish their goal — to bring us to an understanding of our true nature.
These experiences are neither a feeling, nor an imbalance in our psychological makeup — although the resulting loss of trust affects both, which is where the danger is. Instead, these are events that should not have occurred if our understanding is valid. So here goes:
One day, after decades of marriage, you discover your spouse has been having a long-term affair with someone else.
These direct meditative experiences are like that in their impact upon us. And it is in the void of lost trust that an explanation of what happened is necessary — in a broken marriage, and in traditional meditation. And as I pointed out in this essay, it is that explanation which is unavailable in secular contexts.
Thus, I believe we are facing a public health crisis of people who will be suffering from experiences like these that they cannot understand because they have no guidance from anyone after their “retreats” end. Or who are so dedicated in their meditation practice that their meditation glides naturally into experiences that were traditionally kept out of reach of those who were not ready, emotionally and intellectually, to have them.⁷
This in no way means that I think we should stop teaching people how to meditate. Instead, I call for a commitment to not placing people at harm without their knowing consent — like that found in the Declaration of Helsinki governing informed consent for research on human subjects.
This issue is backed up by an increasing emphasis by some scientists who, while researching the benefits and effects of secular meditation, are confronted by a visible incidence of people who become debilitated by their meditative practice. You can find a plethora of articles in general interest media on the subject.⁸
These events are well understood in the various spiritual traditions, and the changes that are produced by the meditational experiences that give rise to them are expected to occur.
In the place of an explanatory framework, such as found in Buddhism and other spiritual traditions, today we have, of course, different diagnostic systems available to help healthcare workers determine exactly what psychological issue these individuals are suffering from. However, these diagnostic systems do NOT take into account the source of these problems, i.e., these meditative insights, and thus the tendency already extant in the field is to place the blame for the psychological problem squarely on the patient and what is presumed to be a latent psychological issue. In short, blaming the victim for their suffering.
And to make this point clear: a diagnostic system is not an explanatory system. The former deals with what is happening, whereas the latter deals with why it’s happening. There is little crossover here, and certainly the presumptive response today by many healthcare professionals and meditation teachers is that the “why” is just those previously un-manifested issues that made the person susceptible to the problem.
We all need an explanation of what is happening to us in such moments, as well as guidance in how to cope with the changes, so that we are not damaged by the experiences and are able to continue our practice in order to be able to move beyond these expected bumps in the road.
I don’t believe that it truly matters what explanation we receive, as long as the explanation has the coherency to enable us to move forward. Different systems attract different people, so finding a one-size-fits-all explanatory system does not appear to be in the cards. And it is not a simple thing to do, to build a coherent explanatory system — look at the mishmash we all live with today in our daily lives. So it is unfortunate that — for the most part — we as a culture have abandoned our past and the wisdom bequeathed to us by our ancestors because it conflicts with the currently extant uninformed prejudices against this knowledge. And I feel it must be said: subpar performance by any individual practitioner is not a reflection of the validity of a practice — whether “scientific” or “spiritual.” There is a range of natural talent in both realms, and laziness, distractedness, and stupidity are all general human faults — perhaps even more so today.
The only potentially saving grace here is that all too many meditators today really aren’t very dedicated in their practice after the last gong has been rung at the retreat center — perhaps because they are just too overloaded in their daily lives to be able to meditate consistently.
Also, today, the word “meditation” is being used to label many types of activity that did not exist in traditional settings. For example, listening to recorded guided meditations, rather than performing a traditional form of meditation. Although this is a contemplative practice, it would never have been labeled as meditation simply because having one’s attention constantly pulled to someone’s voice ensures that concentration won’t be developed, and thus most of the common meditative insights are unlikely to arise as well. But that’s fine because secular meditation isn’t focused on accomplishing any of that.
So for reasons such as these, secular meditation may be safe, even over the long term. But that is not to say that these problems cannot arise. Meditation techniques lead to changes in perception and thinking — that’s their original purpose. And these are a good thing when properly understood. To be sure, meditation also leads to stress reduction and the other modern beneficial goals. But that’s just the start of a potential avalanche of direct meditative experiences.
That avalanche should be seen as a validation that at least some of our ideas about the nature of reality are unfounded and illusory, given that these insights arise in a well-known sequence, time-after-time. Thus, they are reproducible — with concerted effort. And these insights directly undermine some of our most firmly-held ideas about ourselves and the world around us. The fact that these insights are reproducible and do undermine these ideas, should be an indication — for someone paying attention — that there is a problem with our currently accepted understanding.
These meditative experiences are direct “observations,” rather than any kind of doctrinal interpretation. If they were the latter, they would not be directly observed, but would be merely imputed into our normal experiences and taken as the real thing — but that doesn’t have the same effect. You can change your mind about something like that, but you can never honestly deny a direct experience.
But rather than be seen this way, these meditative experiences are dismissed as being nothing more than some kind of unknown, but assuredly physical, process that only touches certain people who meditate — an unwanted side effect of meditation that activates latent psychological problems in some people. That’s the wrong takeaway, and it confuses the side-effects sought after today for the actual and natural fruit of meditative practices — and this is dangerous.
I should point out that even if one takes the position that there is no problem here that arises because of how meditation is taught today, but rather, just that certain individuals with inherent psychological issues are triggered by their practice of meditation, there are still real effects happening to some individuals — whether it’s to trigger a latent psychological problem, or to manifest traditionally understood direct insights into the nature of reality.
And as I pointed out in the previous dialog in this series: as meditation techniques simply take our inherent abilities — that we all have — and puts them to focused use, this position — that it is not about how meditation is taught, but rather, something about the student, that is the problem — ultimately implies that our current worldview is not a stable construction, if all it takes is an increase in concentrated focus — paying attention — to undo it to the point of psychological damage occurring. And this is what spiritual traditions say as well.
Having a unique perspective, when accompanied by an understanding outside the mainstream of acceptable ideas, is diagnosed as a mental illness according to the DSM-V.⁹ That becomes an issue here — if we let scientists rule the arguments relating to meditation and the source of its “dangers.” — given their irreconcilable prejudice against traditional explanations.
Otherwise, we participate in allowing victims to be blamed for what befalls them in a secular meditation context, and we acquiesce to their being labeled as mentally ill or worse. If you read the linked article from the Statesman (below) about research into the “dark side of dharma,” you will see the story about the woman who sought out medical help for the issues she was experiencing because of her meditation. She was subjected to electroconvulsive therapy to bring her back to “reality.” That sent chills up my spine when I read it.
Also, for the individual who is affected negatively by secular meditative practice, allowing scientists — who refuse to consider traditional wisdom — to place the blame on the victim, once he or she is diagnosed as being mentally ill by a professional, anything they say to contest it is taken as symptomatic of their illness.
This isn’t a call to insist upon the wholesale adoption of religious doctrines in order to teach meditation — that, after all, is a personal decision — it’s a call to recognize and be honest about the cause of the potential dangers inherent in extracting traditional techniques that worked within a particular traditional support structure — so that individuals can make an informed decision about whether, and how, they will proceed with meditation.
Finally, the idea that meditation is not for everyone is shortsighted and wrong. Meditation is a systematization of our basic human ability to focus and concentrate, and to observe in an objective manner. How useful this is for everyone! But given the tenuous nature of our knowledge about ourselves that can be suddenly seen through — as these “dangers” of secular meditation show — caution and transparency are essential.
Footnotes:
¹ “Why Schools Are Banning Yoga,” Alia Wong, The Atlantic, on Medium.com, September 27, 2018
² Ajahn Brahm, “Mindfulness, Bliss, and Beyond.” Wisdom Publications, Inc. p. 25. ISBN 0–86171–275–7
³ “Be mindful of mindfulness: drug-free doesn’t mean side-effect free,” The Guardian, May 21, 2015
⁴ Specifically, the Four Elements Inner Spontaneous Sound Yoga, a practice that was once included in the Dzogchen teachings of Tibetan Buddhism as well as Bön, the pre-Buddhist Tibetan shamanic tradition. The reasons why the practice is no longer included are confused. See: The Mystery of the Four Elements Sound Practice
⁵ “Kung Fu” with David Carradine
⁶ The reader may not accept that what they hold to be true is just a theory, but if you are of a “scientific” bent, then you must accept that this is the case.
⁷ For example, the 11th precept found in the “Bodhisattvabhumi” section of the Yogācārabhūmi Śāstra in Mahayana Buddhism prohibits teaching the doctrine of “emptiness” to those whose minds are unprepared.
⁸ For example: Willoughby Britton’s research at Brown University was discussed in “The Dark Knight of the Soul,” in The Atlantic, and “The dark side of Dharma,” in The Statesman
⁹ The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition
