The Way of Silence and The Talking Cure

the way of silence
and the talking cure
“Dr. Claudio Naranjo, a consciousness pioneer, has written

the authoritative text for the clinician who seeks to understand,
not only experience, the range of meditations available at this
time. Having experienced these contemplative states and pro-
cesses, he applies the tools of introspection and communication
to help the helping professional understand this elusive field.
The book makes a substantial and inspiring contribution to the
theory of both therapy and meditation.”
—Prof. Zalman Schachter-Shalomi,
World Wisdom Chair, Naropa Institute
“Numerous figures—from C. G. Jung, D. T. Suzuki and

Erich Fromm in the first half of the twentieth century, to Alan
Watts, Sudhir Kakar and Gananath Obeyesekere in the
second—have noted and explored the profound resonances
between Western forms of Western psychotherapy and various
Asian contemplative, mythological and mystical traditions. But
few have actually acted on these deep cross-cultural insights
as fully as Claudio Naranjo. Naranjo has spent his entire adult
life pursuing, in both theory and practice, what he calls the
One Quest, that psycho-spiritual search which takes countless
cultural forms but is always, fundamentally, about both the
morphing human psyche and the transfigured human body. We
are very fortunate to have now, with The Way of Silence and the
Talking Cure, a record of Naranjo’s mature theorization of both
this life and this work.”
—Jeffrey J. Kripal, J. Newton Rayzor Professor
and Chair of Religious Studies, Rice University
“Claudio is a unique and skilled diamond cutter, one of the
best. From shapeless lumps of things spiritual, anthropological,
psychological, economic, cultural he brings forth flawless gems
of exceptional clarity. When he shapes a diamond of thought
it becomes clear, beautiful to behold, a treasure. Let us not be
confounded by the wisdom of this world. Claudio is able to pare
away the extraneous, the outer garments that hide the truth, and
to reveal the essence within. He makes each facet clear and then
reveals their unity as an integrated sparkling whole.”
—Rev. John Weaver, D.D., L.M., O.B.E,
former Archdeacon of Grace Cathedral and
retired Board Member of The U.S. Club
of Rome Association
“[Naranjo’s] contribution to the scientific understanding

of meditation consists primarily in his original approach to the
topic—which is as innovative, unique, ingenious and systematic
as already germinally proposed in his earlier work on medita-
tion and psychotherapy.”
—Mirko Fryba (Bhikkhu Kusalananda),
Forest Hermitage, Kandy, Sri Lanka
Claudio Naranjo, M.D., a major disciple of Gestalt psycho-

therapist Fritz Perls and leading theoretician of the psychology of
meditation, has distilled in this book work of over four decades
as a psychiatrist, innovator in the contemporary application of
the practices of various of the world’s great wisdom traditions as
part of the great twentieth-century Human Potential Movement,
and professor of comparative religion, music, psychiatry and hu-
manistic psychology. This book, The Way of Silence and the Talk-
ing Cure, will make fascinating and stimulating not-to-be-missed
reading for all those interested in the worlds of religious-spiritual
teachings and the most creative innovations in psychotherapy of
the past half century.
—Mitchell Ginsberg, Ph.D., author, The Inner Palace: Mir-
rors of Psychospirituality in Divine and
Sacred Wisdom-Traditions, co-moderator of
the Chishtiyya Sufi on-line discussion group
the way of silence
AND
the talKing cure
On Meditation
and Psychotherapy
Claudio Naranjo
Foreword by
Tarthang Tulku
Blue Dolphin Publishing

Copyright © 2006 Claudio Naranjo
All rights reserved.
Published by Blue Dolphin Publishing, Inc.

P.O. Box 8, Nevada City, CA 95959
Orders: 1-800-643-0765
Web: www.bluedolphinpublishing.com
ISBN: 978-1-57733-140-7 paperback

ISBN: 978-1-57733-409-5 e-book
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Naranjo, Claudio.
The way of silence and the talking cure : on meditation
and psychotherapy / Claudio Naranjo ; foreword by Tarthang
Tulku.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 1-57733-140-0 (pbk. : alk. paper)
1. Meditation—Therapeutic use. I. Title.
RC489.M43N37 2006
615.8’52—dc22
2006006911
Printed in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Gratefully dedicated
to Tarthang Tulku Rinpoche,
who found me in the lower regions of heaven
and brought me safely back to earth.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
FOREWORD: Transforming Mind

by Tarthang Tulku Rinpoche ix
PREFACE by Bhikkhu Kusalanda xv
INTRODUCTION: On Meditation and Psychotherapy xxi
PART I: Theoretical PRopositions ON

MEDITATION and Psychotherapy 1
1. By Way of Definition: The Realm of Meditation 3
2. Dimensions and Essence of Meditation 9
3. Body Awareness and “Subtle Energies”

in Spiritual Development 37
4. The Interface Between Meditation

and Psychotherapy 63
PART II: New Applications of Meditation

in Psychotherapy 93
5. Meditation-in-Relation 95
vii
viii the way of silence and the talking cure
6. Self-Knowledge Through Free Association

in a Meditative Context: A Therapeutic and
Educational Proposal 113
7. Music as Meditation and Therapy 143
Part Iii 151
8. Forms of Meditation 153
Epilogue 238
NOTES 240
Bibliography 247
INDEX 252
Foreword
Transforming Mind
The human mind has a natural affinity for knowledge. Through

the centuries, the focus of knowledge has shifted from time to
time and opened various ways of comprehending self and world.
Religious traditions have developed paths to spiritual knowledge,
and philosophers have applied the tools of analysis and dialectic
to remove confusion and present a rational, objective view of
reality.
Although our understanding of reality is closely related to
mind, only recently in the West has the growth of psychology
centered the focus of inquiry on mind itself. Influenced by sci-
ence’s successes in analyzing the external world, professionals
concerned with mental health have developed theories and
therapies for the mind based on observation and the application
of scientific methodology.
In recent years, when innovative psychologists turned to
Eastern spiritual traditions for fresh perspectives on human de-
velopment and useful therapeutic techniques, they discovered
that meditation was effective in easing agitations that disturb
the mind and invite numerous forms of suffering. A growing
number of people now know of meditation’s healing powers and
have benefited from the relaxation, stability, and improved con-
centration that develop from its regular practice. Some seekers
have penetrated further into meditative disciplines in hopes of a
ix
x the way of silence and the talking cure
deeper healing that could satisfy spiritual yearnings, ease feelings

of loneliness and separation, and develop capacities for joy and
appreciation. It is possible that serious students have now awak-
ened the wish for enlightenment, which Buddhism considers the
highest expression of human potential.
To the best of our knowledge, the Buddha was the first to
discover the path that leads beyond all forms of suffering to
complete, perfect enlightenment. So that others might find the
way, he mapped the path to realization, pointing out where to
begin, how to analyze, and how to transcend the limits imposed
by conditioning. Since these limitations arise in mind, and it
is mind that fabricates our reality, the Buddha emphasized the
importance of understanding mind: what it is, how it establishes
our reality, and how to activate its potential for transformation.
The path unfolds through analysis of the kleshas, the obscurations
that conceal the true nature of mind, and of karma, the inter
connectedness of cause and result that conditions the operation
of mind. This analysis forms the core of the Abhidharma, the
Buddhist science of mind.
Developed over centuries of meditative analysis, Abhidharma
traces the process that gives rise to the notion of self as the owner
and possessor of experience, which the Buddha identified as the
primary klesha and the source of endless suffering. The problem
is rooted in the nature of the perceptual process itself, which
cannot let experience simply be. Perception pushes toward defi-
nition, identification, and interpretation. Something must take
charge, some entity must be called forth to cognize and process
this experience.
This dynamic injects a new factor into the mind’s processes:
Mind recognizes the recognizer, and a subject comes into exis-
tence—a subject that can perceive and know everything else as
object. Once the dualism of subject and object comes into play, it
is reinforced through all thought and actions that follow, initiat-
ing a complex interaction of causes and results that reinforces a
Foreword: Transforming Mind xi
sense of self and adorns it with distinctive attributes and patterns.

Accepting the illusion that a person does indeed exist, we fall
into existence and become vulnerable to whatever the workings
of karma produce.
This process is so deeply ingrained that we can conceive of no
other possibility; locked into this way of viewing and interpreting
experience, mind can operate no other way, and the thought of
questioning it does not arise. Experience channeled through this
pattern gives rise to samsara, the reality created by the klesha-
bound mind. This reality cannot touch the present directly: Mind
retains memories, images, and thoughts related to the past and
casts them into the present; interpreting the present in light of the
past, it evokes emotions that in turn reflect back to mind, generat-
ing further distortions and leading ever more surely into painful
states of mind. Obscured by kleshas and subject to karma, mind
reflects all possible realms of experience: the soaring pleasures of
the gods; the driven ambition and rage of the demigods; animal-
like dullness and rigidity; the neediness of the hungry ghosts; the
searing torment or frozen immobility of the hot and cold hells;
and the confused but receptive realm of human being, where one
can awaken the thought of enlightenment.
We see these patterns unfolding in our lives, and know how
quickly experience can shift from one realm to the next. Despite
our best efforts, we cannot hold on to happiness for long, and
even a thought can disrupt our greatest joys. This knowledge
gives rise to a subtle guarded quality that focuses mind on the
negative possibilities for experience. Nourished on problems,
constantly alert to potential sources of worry, mind has difficulty
exercising its capacities for wonder and delight.
When we appreciate mind as the architect of our reality, the
source of our greatest joys and our most profound sorrows, we
perceive new possibilities for freeing the mind from problems
and encouraging it to reflect more beauty and joy into our lives.
Meditation based on this understanding becomes a gentle form
xii the way of silence and the talking cure
of self-healing that relaxes mind’s focus on thoughts and allows

it to rest content in the center of our being. It takes only a few
minutes to focus body, mind, and senses by practicing Kum Nye,
yoga, Tai Chi, or other kinds of slow, simple movement exercises.
Even fifteen minutes to half an hour of sitting practice several
times a day can relax body and mind, while memories, tensions,
thoughts, and hidden blockages gradually melt away. Mind
becomes pristine and clear, more friendly and accommodating.
Peaceful, loving feelings arise, uplifting the spirit and warming
the heart. These feelings can be carried into daily life and recalled
in difficult times, gentling emotional reactions and slowing the
momentum of karma.
Practiced daily, this kind of deep relaxation flows naturally
into meditation. As mind rests within the sense of ease, the focus
of concentration shifts to within the experience itself; meditation
becomes vivid and clear, inherently a part of our being. Thoughts
and images subside; pressure to respond to mind’s urgings less-
ens, and it is possible to sense an alert, wakeful quality that goes
beyond ordinary mind. Here meditation becomes the healer of
mind, and its benefits begin to surface more clearly in daily life.
Harmful thoughts and emotions arise less often and fade more
quickly; experience becomes lighter and more joyful. Mind be-
comes happier and more friendly, more able to reflect the positive
aspects of experience. As painful patterns lose their hold, new
knowledge can enter—knowledge that can embrace a new time
and give rise to a new reality.
As the Buddha demonstrated, meditation grounded on a
sound understanding of mind can deepen into samadhi and open
the doors to enlightenment. But our accustomed view of medita-
tion can limit access to higher forms of realization. As long as we
view ourselves as meditating, our subject-object orientation has
not yet changed. Even when meditation melts into total open-
ness or surrender, even after the ego lets go, a subtle current of
motivation remains: mind still adheres to its possession: mind is
Foreword: Transforming Mind xiii
editating, mind is following instructions, mind is hoping to

m
benefit from the meditation. These are signs that karma and
klesha are still with us and that meditation is still bound to
samsaric mind. Mind is reflecting the contents of mind, creating
the illusion of attainments, but unable to penetrate the illusion
itself.
Perceiving the unrelenting hold of karma and klesha, the Bud-
dha pointed out qualities of mind that could serve as antidotes
to confusion and broaden the purview of mind itself: generosity,
morality, patience, vigor, concentration, and wisdom. While each
of these qualities manifests within samsaric mind, with practice
and application, these qualities can be infinitely expanded, far
beyond the realm of self and other.
When we evoke and appreciate inherently beautiful quali-
ties, they engage the reflective nature of mind, flooding mind
with the joy of selfless giving, the abiding calm of integrity, and
the compassion that calls forth the dynamic power of patience.
Empowered by these virtues, vigor becomes heroic dedication;
concentration confers the power to penetrate all obscurations,
and prajna, transcendent wisdom, illuminates the true nature of
reality.
Consistently evoked within each moment of experience,
these qualities move closer to perfection, culminating in prajna
paramita, wisdom that completely transcends karma and klesha
and reveals mind as open and unbounded, free of all dualities
and polarities. Here karma has no place to take hold; thoughts
no longer separate mind from experience, and heart and mind
merge in an instantaneous intimacy, catalyst for the samadhi that
leads to enlightenment.
Enlightenment may seem remote from our present way of
being. Our lives are short and filled with uncertainties; distrac-
tions abound, filling the body with tension and leading the mind
into painful places. Yet a shift in view can transform the nature
of our experience, and meditation can greatly enrich the quality
xiv the way of silence and the talking cure
of our lives. With these resources, we can take full advantage of

the opportunity a human life offers to develop the mind, brighten
its reality, and transform it into a loving companion, source of
endless treasures and delights.
At this present stage of our knowledge, when much remains
unclear, we are fortunate to have in the West people such as
Claudio Naranjo, who have explored many different religious
and psychological traditions and are able to express their ap-
proaches to mental development simply and clearly. I have
known Claudio for many years. He is a diligent seeker who has
immersed himself in a wide array of teachings and practices for
the purpose of helping others heal their pain and find their path
to mental development. In this book he surveys the broad spec-
trum of meditative traditions, introduces the currents of modern
psychology, and offers his own analysis and insights in a manner
helpful to lay people, psychologists, and intellectuals. I greatly
appreciate his effort to open new avenues for appreciation and
self-understanding, to lighten the burden of suffering and build
the foundation of a happier, more joyful reality.
Tarthang Tulku
Odiyan, May 1997
PREFACE
Dr. Naranjo pursues three aims in this book: he explores all that
really occurs around and in meditation, he reviews all these things
with the eye of a psychotherapist, and he collates his findings
with the ancient texts on meditation. His own contribution to
the scientific understanding of meditation consists primarily in his
original approach to the topic—which is as innovative, unique,
ingenious and systematic as already germinally proposed in his
earlier work on meditation and psychotherapy.
There is, moreover, our author’s important contribution to
modern psychotherapy as conveyed in Part II: New Applications
of Meditation in Psychotherapy. Out of these, I would like to
point out at least one very simple yet revolutionary device that
has been already very much appreciated by the psychotherapists
whom I trained during the past decade. It employs innovatively
the principle of censorship in free association as used by Sigmund
Freud. At the end, I shall depict it in detail as an example of
Naranjo’s genius, here saying only that it can be used with much
profit also in the analytical meditation techniques like those of the
Buddhist Vipassana. Thus our author is helping to enrich the pro-
cedures of psychotherapy and meditation each other mutually.
In this book, both meditation and psychotherapy are ap-
proached as skills that can be learned. You find here hardly any
xv
xvi the way of silence and the talking cure
denominational labeling of methods as belonging to various reli-

gious or schools of thought. On the contrary, you find rather very
lively realistic depictions and also some very personal material.
Thus the author does not eschew sharing with us his experience
of the awakening of the spiritual energy called kundalini. Then he
links it to rich metaphors from various cultural traditions.
Dr. Naranjo draws upon a vast variety of ancient sources and
deciphers the know-how of the spiritual exercises concealed in
them.
Those ancient systems of meditation training, that are living
in practice till today, have each its own theoretical and sustain-
ing social context. The social context of a particular meditation
method is created and ever re-created by the persons who either
themselves practice that very meditation or know about it being
practiced by someone familiar to them. When they speak about
meditation—in their own Arab, Burmese, Chinese or Tibetan
language—both their casual words and the technical terms are
semiotically anchored in their everyday life. We find nowhere
any system of meditation or other spiritual exercises without
the very worldly everyday reality. It is rather unusual that some
texts, like those of modern psychology or those of the original
Buddha’s teaching in Pali, technically describe the know-how of
meditation as such.
This book explains the various systems of knowledge about
meditation. Dr. Naranjo’s purpose is to extract from them the
essential, to find the common denominators, and to procure a
psychotherapeutically useful, coherent body of knowledge. The
reader should judge for herself or himself how successful the
author is in accomplishing this task. Though you read in English
of Spanish, you see behind the same words different realities ac-
cording to whether you live in Madrid, Montevideo, Mexico or
in England, New England, New Delhi….
You cannot really understand much about meditation, unless
it is a piece of the reality of your everyday life in your particular
Preface xvii
social context. When you read, think or speak about meditation,

your comprehension of all the things related to it is a part of your
language. All words about meditation—and also all named by
these words—have their clear meaning just within your particular
cultural setting. The meaning of the ancient texts on meditation
can be exactly understood only within the particular cultural
context in which the author of that text lived. Only now, while
living as a Buddhist monk in rural Sri Lanka, I fully understand
certain extrications of the Buddha’s teaching which had been
brought here in the third century bc. During my previous visits
to Sri Lanka as a European University professor and researcher,
I have been always very much aware that to translate the Asian
wisdom for European people is more than just a question of lan-
guage. If you, dear reader, can identify with me in this respect, it
is then easy for you to share my admiration for the tremendous
experiential and intellectual accomplishment done by the author
of this book.
So far as I know, Dr. Naranjo is the foremost expert on the Sufi
meditation and the best knower, among the Western psychothera-
pists, of all the other forms of meditation. He is very well conversant
with the elaborate systems of Sanskritic Buddhism, called Hinayana
and Mahayana, which were developed some seven or eight centu-
ries after the Buddha. My own domain, as already mentioned, is
the simpler, and in its goals and means less spectacular, Theravada
Buddhism. It is the oldest and the most original form of Buddha’s
teaching known to us, both in its scriptural tradition and in its liv-
ing continuity of meditation masters. Unlike in the much younger
Sanskritic systems of Hinayana and Mahayana, we do not strive
after the ideals of Arhat and Bodhisattva. In Theravada, we have
three goals of practice for monks, namely: the perfection of virtue
(sila), the perfection of meditation (samadhi), and the perfection of
wisdom (panna). For Buddhists, there are in Theravada somewhat
modified three ideals, namely the perfection of generosity (dana),
the perfection of virtue (sila), and the perfection of spiritual exercise
xviii the way of silence and the talking cure
(bhavana). Without going into linguistic or doctrinal explanations, I

want to use the latter paradigm as a basis for praising Dr. Naranjo’s
latest formulation of meditation theory.
In Sri Lankan indigenous understanding of meditation,
there is no progress possible without previous cultivation of
renouncement (dana) and virtue (sila). The meditation has two
components, the tranquilizing concentration (samadhi) and the
wise insight (panna), which are both being perfected in a gradual
exercise (bhavana). Now, these two sentences represent a sum-
mary of what an average Sri Lankan villager tells you when asked
about meditation. In a somewhat more talkative way, the villager
would tell you: “How could you practice meditation, when you
cannot give up the things you cling to? How could you sit peace-
fully when you have not regulated your social issues and your
manners through virtue?” The villagers say succinctly that you
have to train yourself in giving and in behaviour control, before
you start to purify and cultivate your mind in meditation. These
villagers would admit that, unless you give up also the whole way
of life of a layman, you cannot reach the highest attainments of
concentration that are necessary for the completely liberating
wisdom taught by all Buddhas. Almost every child in a Sri Lankan
village, when asked what the Buddha teaches, would recite the
following verse 183 from the Dhammapada, the basic book of
Theravada:
Not to do any evil,

To cultivate good,
To purify one’s mind,
This is the Teaching
Of the Buddhas.
Let us leave it at that, dear reader. Regarding meditation and

its necessary precondition virtue, I do not want to say any more.
But I would like to ask you to come back to this page with the vil-
lagers’ explanations, after having read Dr. Naranjo’s exposition
Preface xix
of the meditation process components, and after having contem-

plated his figure 4 on page 17. You may come across also some
other culture-bound villager-like description of meditation—then
please do apply on it the conceptual grid of the theory developed
by Claudio Naranjo. And you will see for yourself how useful it
proves to be. Well, so far ... understanding the meditation. And
what about bringing it into the “talking cure”?
At the beginning I promised to later say more about the joy
of my colleagues when we started to use one of Dr. Naranjo’s
revolutionary ideas in psychotherapy training. In one word, it is
about using a device of Buddha’s meditation in a very fundamen-
tal Freud technique. In Switzerland some of my colleagues look
at me as a rather too orthodox analyst, because I am a pupil of
Ernst Blum who is Sigmund Freud’s direct disciple. In fact I do not
attempt to hide my fidelity and reverence towards my teacher’s
teacher. I am also aware that some neophyte psychoanalysts
may not know that Sigmund Freud had developed and taught
to some of his personal disciples a method of meditation. This
makes it somewhat less insolent to see how Freud’s fundamental
procedure of free association is getting improved by Naranjo’s
meditation.
If you ever try to speak out whatever you freely associate
in your mind, soon you will discover the importance of several
conditions around you. These regard preponderantly the listener,
whose attitude can be meditatively cultivated, as you will read
in the fifth and sixth chapters. But there is one important point
in the know-how of instructing the free association—and this is
what I will speak about.
Many colleagues tell me during supervisions that they re-
member—when they are confronted with the same phenomenon
in their analysands—how they themselves in their own training
censored some contents of the free association. They admit that
they did sometimes to the extent of spoiling the possibility to
continue the experiential unfolding of the free association, and
even evading the experiential reality and pretending something
xx the way of silence and the talking cure
they thought in that moment desirable. Well, it is easy to admit

something like this when you are already a certified analyst, not
threatened by colleagues from the same locality you earn your
bread, or in a permissive group atmosphere where the reciproc-
ity of sharing is granted. Yet the question remains: what to do to
prevent evasion of healing insight in the non-reciprocal, specially
formalized free associating on the couch?
The crowning of the laudation of the book you are holding in
your hands, dear reader, is just to point out Dr. Naranjo’s answer
to the above question. When he mentioned his solution in our
conversation years ago, I saw clearly how ingenious is his simple
augment to the standard instruction of free association. And I am
sure, dear reader, it will be also that clearly visible to you.
Whenever in your process of free associating, the need arises
to censor, do not try to overcome it, do not fight it, do not
analyze the resistance, do not pretend anything to the listener,
do not violate your own natural experiencing—just notice that
there is censoring. And you may tell your analyst that you have
noticed it. That’s it. Thus, you firstly comply with the therapeutic
procedure, secondly you do not block the healing and liberating
process of experiential unfolding of insight, and thirdly you af-
firm the respect for the emancipatory shriving, the experiencer’s
self-determination and freedom.
May you get many enlightening insights and gratifying rejoic-
ing while both reading this book and using its wisdom in your
life.
Mirko Fryba, alias Bhikkhu Kusalananda

22/02/99
Forest Hermitage, Kandy, Sri Lanka
(See my book, The Art of Happiness, page 21)
Introduction
ON MEDITATION AND
PSYCHOTHERAPY
At the beginning of the sixties Northrop pointed to the meeting of

East and West as one of the most important historical phenomena
of our time. Since the thought was voiced, the process has become
only more striking, and one of its manifestations has been the
keen interest of psychologists (and, more broadly, psychologically
minded people) in the Eastern spiritual teachings. This, in turn,
reflects a spiritualization of psychotherapy that may well have
constituted the main root of the geo-cultural phenomenon of an
East-West meeting.
Such spiritualization itself has been the result of a long
process through which the therapeutic enterprise has become
self-conscious of its ethical and spiritual dimensions and shifted
away from the “medical model.” First the ethical implications of
psychotherapy came into view, then the spiritual aspects of the
process became obvious enough for many today to be convinced
that the psychological and spiritual dimensions of growth are two
facets of a single event.
As it was inevitable in the evolution of Western thinking
that rational intellect came to acknowledge its limitations, it was
inevitable in dynamic psychotherapy too, that there would arise
an awareness of its limits; and it was only natural that Western
xxi
xxii the way of silence and the talking cure
seekers began turning to the East for an expert guidance that

during earlier decades had not seemed relevant.
What is true of our culture is true of many of us individually,
and my own work has reflected my own experiences as a seeker.
“Meditation and Psychotherapy” has been my banner since Es-
alen Institute invited me in the sixties to work in my own way,
and that “got me going.” Little by little, the curriculum of those
workshops became the core structure of my later work—a trans-
personal training of therapists and educators gravitating around
meditation, self-insight and authentic communication. In view
of a long dedication to the subject, it has only been natural that
I have gone far beyond simply recommending to patients that
they meditate and re-wording traditional methods. Thus in the
second part of this book I offer a theoretical understanding of
the relation between meditation and psychotherapy, and share
some of my contributions to the integration between the two
domains.
While some essays begin with a definition of their subject
matter, a proper definition of meditation can only follow in this
book the analysis that I undertake in chapter 2. In contrast to
the highly abstract and analytic definition that emerges from the
mapping of the meditation domain presented there, I undertake
in chapter 1—a preliminary approximation to the conception of
meditation outlined in the next chapter. Its scope is a consider-
ation of the field of meditation in terms of its boundaries within
the wider domain of spiritual practice.
Here is the content of the rest of the book in a nutshell, along
with some pertinent remarks and aknowledgements:
Chapter 2 was intended to be an edited version of “A Theory
of Meditation—an Update” that was included in an earlier book
(whose publisher chose to call “How to Be” and I would have pre-
ferred to call “How to not be”!). The editing was in the end more
substantial than I anticipated, however, particularly since during
its writing I was gifted (thanks to the stimulus of my earthly muse)
with an understanding of the “meditation enneagram.”
Introduction: On Meditation and Psychotherapy xxiii
Just as Chapter 2 purports to tackle meditation from a trans-

cultural and trans-systemic perspective, in chapter 3 I bring a
similar perspective to bear on the issue of the subtle physiology
of meditation and the transformation of the body in the course
of the individual’s spiritual evolution.
In Chapter 4, “on the interface between meditation and psy-
chotherapy,” I show how the theory of meditation that I am pro-
posing addresses issues that are fundamental to psychotherapy as
well. Along with showing the commonality between meditation
and psychotherapy, I also discuss here the contrast between both
and their resultant practical complementarity. It is a re-written
version of my opening talk at the Conference on Meditation and
Psychotherapy, sponsored by the Federazione Italiana de Terapia
Gestalt and the Tuscany Rajneesh Miasto in 1988. I have incor-
porated, too, reflections derived from a paper on Buddhism and
Psyhotherapy prepared for a conference with the Dalai Lama that
failed to take place on the year when H.H. was presented with
the Nobel Prize for Peace.
Part II of the book begins with the subject of meditation-in-
relation or “intersubjective meditation,” which I most often call
Interpersonal Extensions of Meditation. My statement in chapter
5 consists in a literal transcript: a demonstration of meditation-
in-relationship presented at the “Interdisciplinary Symposium on
Man” held in Toledo in 1991.
My account of teaching experiments in the shared observa-
tion of thinking, in chapter 6, was produced to complete this
book, which without it would have failed to communicate any-
thing concerning my long-standing interest in the hybridization
of meditation and various psychological exercises—a specialty
for which I am well known by my students but have scarcely
shared with the wider public (except on occasion of the First Con-
gress of the World Council for Psychotherapy WCP celebrated in
Vienna in 1996).
Chapter 7, entitled “Music as Meditation,” originally consti-
tuted one of the supplements to my portion On the Psychology of
xxiv the way of silence and the talking cure
Meditation when this volume was re-issued in the eighties as How

to Be. The application of music to spiritual development and heal-
ing stands out as a spontaneous field of specialization throughout
my life—a natural consequence of my having undergone musical
studies before medical school. The present brief account amounts
to a concise overview of possibilities, with particular stress on the
use of music in the evocation of sacredness and on the spiritual
significance of the European classical heritage.
Part III, comprising a single chapter in seven sections, offers
a panorama of the classical forms of meditation in the different
spiritual traditions. It arose in response to the invitation from
Prof. Michael von Brueck, theologist at Regensburg University,
who requested it as a leading article for the first issue of the
magazine “Dialog der Religionen” and only in retrospect I real-
ized how fitting his inspiration had been in requesting it from
me, since I have produced something that is not the outcome
of scholarship alone, but the work of one whose spiritual thirst
was matched by the opportunity of living contact and guidance
from teachers within each of the traditions surveyed. It would
have been logical to begin this book with this descriptive review
of meditation techniques before proceeding to more abstract
or subtle matters, but I have chosen to defer to the advice of
an editor who has recommended that I begin with my original
contributions.
I would like to think that the integrative attitude conveyed
throughout the chapters of this book will serve as an antidote to
sectarian tendencies and draw attention to the fundamental issues
that underly the well known and specific forms of meditation and
psychotherapy. Also, I will—of course—feel very happy if the
fruits of my experimentation is of interest and stimulus to seekers,
helpful to people-helpers and to those who are in the position of
putting the pertinent information to use in social situations rang-
ing from self-help groups to educational initiatives.
PART I
Theoretical PRopositions
ON MEDITATION
and Psychotherapy
CHAPTER ONE
BY WAY OF DEFINITION:
THE REALM OF MEDITATION
Meditation in the Context of Spiritual Practice:

Some Interphases
Though it is customary to begin with a definition of the subject at

hand, this would hardly be appropriate in this case, for the task
of going beyond the multiple definitions of meditation that have
already been proposed requires a substantial part of this book as
a prerequisite. In the last part of this work the reader will find a
denotative definition—i.e., one in which are reviewed the differ-
ent practices to which this name applies. In the chapter following
the present one, on the other hand, I propose an understanding
of meditation as a multi-faceted mental phenomenon involving a
suspension of the ego or an understanding of its illusory nature.
The chapter after that, in turn, explains that deep meditation
involves a physical process traditionally spoken of in terms of
“subtle energies”—which I propose reconceptualizing as the un-
leashing of the organism’s deeper spontaneity.
Before all that, however, in the following pages, I intend to
contribute to the clarification of meditation through a consider-
ation of certain boundaries or interphases between it and other
spiritual disciplines.
3
4 the way of silence and the talking cure
When I presented my dimensional theory of meditation con-

tained in the next chapter of this book at a meeting of the APA
in San Francisco in the mid-seventies, it was said that I had pre-
sented a “theory of spiritual exercises,” and not just meditation.
True as that may be, I am concerning myself in this book with
a narrower realm than that of spiritual practice (though wider
than that of both specific meditation practices and some current
definitions). In what follows I purport to circumscribe this realm
through a consideration of the continuities and contrasts ob-
tained between meditation/“virtue,” meditation/“wisdom” and
meditation/“prayer.”
Meditation and Virtue—virtue or right action is generally re-

garded as a preliminary to meditation. Work on right-living
and right-relationship goes hand in hand with a cleansing of the
passions, from which the veil barring us from contemplative ex-
perience is woven, just as meditation involves a working against
the passions at a level subtler than behavior. Yet all spiritual tra-
ditions have recognized that life is influenced by meditation and
mystical experience in the direction of virtue. Virtuous action is
an outcome of meditation in the same way as Te flows naturally
from Tao.
The realm of spiritual practice in everyday life comprises
mostly attention-training and virtue, and the latter may be, in
turn, analyzed into various aspects. Thus, renunciation is an
aspect of both meditation and virtue, for both involve the behav-
ioral inhibition of worldliness and constitute an act of detach-
ment from egoic and hedonic motivation. Thus both lead—in
the best of cases—to a condition of being “in the world but not
of the world.”
Austerity—designated as tapas in Sanskrit literature and as morti-

fication in the Christian tradition—is closely related to renuncia-
tion, but stresses further the cultivation of neutrality in the face
of pain. Different forms of meditation involve varying degrees of
By Way of Definition: The Realm of Meditation 5
austerity inasmuch as they involve the discomfort of prolonged

sitting, the inhibition of fantasy and the willingness to contact
what psychological pain may be present in the individual’s ex-
perience. Also implicit in the practice of virtue are qualities such
as loving kindness, compassion, friendliness and contentedness—
without which “right action” would only be rule‑bound behavior
and fall short of true virtue.
The cultivation of love is not limited to spiritual practices in
the realm of action, of course, but is intrinsic to meditation in
such forms as the arousal of bodhicitta and the meditation on the
“four immeasurables” (benevolence, compassion, sympathetic
joy, and equanimity) in Buddhism. Yet more characteristic than
the cultivation of a loving intention toward other beings is, in
the realm of meditation, the kindling of love towards the divine,
or devotion. Though specific traditions concentrate more on the
matter of wisdom or that of compassion, the realms of concentra-
tion and of devotion are hardly separable in practice, and spiritual
perfection involves a simultaneous attainment of self‑emptying
and abundance, detachment and appreciativeness, truth and
value. The inseparability of the two is apparent in the Tibetan
practices of Deity Yoga, in which, against a background of emp-
tiness achieved through concentration practice, the practitioner
engages in work of visualization and creative imagination leading
up to the experience of bliss‑void and a balance of wisdom and
compassion.
The discussions above (meditation/virtue, meditation/renun-
ciation, meditation/austerity, meditation/love) may be subsumed
under the classical polarity of contemplation/action. These two
are clearly not only opposites, for contemplation (which involves
not‑doing) is also supreme activity—and right action, like medita-
tion, involves the cultivation of egolessness.
Meditation and Prayer—This polarity involves not only that of

Yoga (in the strictest sense) vs. devotion, but a polarity between
a discipline of voluntary control of internal states and a spiritual
practice of surrender to internal guidance that is implicit in the

devotional attitude. In the introduction to their selections from
the Philokalia for instance, Kadloubovsky and Palmer write:
“Christian life develops and rises to perfection under the guid-
ance of the Lord Jesus Christ himself.” For reasons that will
become apparent in the next chapter, I am choosing to include
prayer in meditation in spite of the contrast between devotion
and mind training.
Meditation and Trance—Unlike other differentiations enumer-

ated, this one makes reference mostly to the state of conscious-
ness of the practitioner, and has been used in anthropological
discussions of shamanism. In view of the striking multi-dimen-
sionality of meditational consciousness, early in my reflection
on the subject I gave up any definition of meditation that relies
on specific states of consciousness (embracing, instead, a view
that recognizes a more universal relevance of “meditation” to
the changing of consciousness and as a recognition that the ul-
timate level of attainment is something transcending particular
mental states). The word “trance” evokes mostly the domain of
inspiration and creative imagination; or, to borrow Ibn ’Arabi’s
terminology, the world of the “divine attributes” which stands
between the outer world and the world of gnosis proper, i.e.,
between ordinary perception and the undifferentiated conscious-
ness of the deepest contemplation (in the words of Patanjali, the
savikalpa samadhi, which lies between nirvikalpa samadhi and
ordinary perception).
Meditation and Realization—In many traditions there is a rec-

ognition of the power of the teachings as inspiration for medi-
tation and a support for its success. In Buddhism, meditation
corresponds to the fifth paramita and wisdom to the sixth, and
it is widely understood that meditation is the occasion to expe-
rientially realize the teachings. Buddha is quoted as saying that
By Way of Definition: The Realm of Meditation 7
meditation without knowledge is nothing, and it is dharma rather

than dhyana that is regarded as the touchstone of enlightenment.
In one of his sermons the thirteenth Dalai Lama quotes from The
Ornament of Mahayana sutras:
In the beginning rely upon study.

Then internalize the meaning by meditation.
From correct meditation arises
The wisdom of correct understanding.1
He goes on to comment that “studying many teachings and then

looking somewhere else for what to practice is a sign of errone-
ous understanding.” Emphasis on “right view” only increases
along the graded path of meditation in the Tibetan system, for
it culminates in Ati Yoga where the practice is mostly that of
sustaining the view.
Meditation and Contemplation—Mostly in connection with this

word pair, I want to emphasize the variable meaning that “con-
templation” has in the literature, sometimes even in the writings
of a specific author. Sometimes it is used in the sense of pondering
something (as “meditation” often means in the Christian world)
or seeking to understand the teachings through an analysis of
one’s experience (what in Buddhism is called analytical medita-
tion). At other times the word contemplation is reserved for the
deepest absorption, i.e., the apprehension of Truth or intuition
of the Absolute.
Since it is hard to draw clear boundaries between what is

meditation and what is not—in view of the interconnectedness of
practices discussed thus far, I am choosing to maintain a general
separation between the realms of meditation and action on the
one hand, and meditation and learning or wisdom on the other.
I am including within the sphere of meditation the realm of de-
votion, yet see a continuity between the realms of meditation,
devotion and gnosis. Differentiating too sharply between medi-

tation and understanding might obscure the fact that meditation
is the laboratory of the deep understanding of the teachings, just
as differentiating love from meditation might distract from the
acknowledgment of love as intrinsic to enlightenment.
CHAPTER TWO
DIMENSIONS AND ESSENCE

OF MEDITATION
This chapter undertakes an inquiry into the psychological pro-

cesses involved in meditation and comprises a topography or
geometry of consciousness. I will approach the matter by tracing
the evolution of my theoretical view.
When Joe Kamiya (widely known today for his pioneering
research on brain‑wave control through biofeedback) invited me
in the mid-sixties to give a talk on the psychology of meditation
at the Langley Porter Neuropsychiatric Institute, I inspected what
books on the subject I could find in print and was impressed
with the variety of definitions and forms of meditation that were
proposed in them. Some spoke of meditation as a focusing of the
mind on something—a concept, passage of scripture, or, more
generally, “an object”; others insisted on meditation being any-
thing but that: meditation must not have an object.
The differences in definition could be multiplied, and it
seemed that before one might propose a more encompassing one,
one would first of all need to stand before the whole meditation
domain.
I didn’t deem it reasonable to restrict the term meditation to
a specific region of the total field; there were enough points of
similarity between different forms of meditation to conceive of
9
them as near or distant points in a single domain; it was clear that

one could speak of provinces or kinds of meditation, and also as-
pects of meditation underlying the different forms. In an attempt
to organize the field of meditation in view of the predominance
of one or another among such underlying experiences, I then
proposed the tri‑polar graph, which I later elaborated upon in
1970 when Dr. Ornstein invited me to co‑author the now well
known book on the subject.
In my part of On the Psychology of Meditation,1 I established
a distinction between the kind of meditation which I then called
a “negative way” (epitomized in the well‑known Sanskrit dictum
neti neti, “not this, not that”), involving a gesture of disidentifying
with the contents of the mind, and two other contrasting groups
and styles of meditation. The first of these I called “concentra-
tive meditation,” for in it the practitioner disciplines his mind by
focusing on a chosen object or content; the contrasting style char-
acterized as a sort of “discipline of undiscipline”—a “discipline of
surrender”—in which the main issue is that of letting the mind go
its spontaneous course. To characterize the “antipodes” of con-
centrative meditation and meditation consisting in surrender or
letting‑go, I proposed the labels “Apollonian” and “Dionysian.”
Figure 1
The Negative Way: elimination,
detachment, emptiness,
centered, the “middle way”
The Way of Forms: The Expressive Way:

Concentration, absorption, freedom, transparence,
union, Apollonian surrender, Dionysian
I continue to feel that these concepts apply to the realm of

spiritual endeavor even more appropriately than to styles of art
and of culture (for which they were proposed by Nietzsche),
Dimensions and Essence of Meditation 11
yet the theoretical model I suggested failed to influence current

thinking on the matter. In spite of the book’s market success, it
seems to me that the transpersonal specialists have not deemed
my proposition weighty enough to supplant the traditional clas-
sification of meditation within the Buddhist tradition, which em-
phasizes the distinction between two kinds of practice: shamatha,
which consists of the calming of the mind; and vipassana, which
consists of looking keenly at the state and content of the mind
moment after moment.
Yet there are practices outside Buddhism—ranging from
shamanic trance to kundalini yoga—in which surrender of con-
trol is the most prominent feature, and it can be argued that
even though mind-calming and mindfulness are the outspoken
goals of most Buddhist meditation, there is also in Buddhism,
as a background to both shamatha and vipassana, an important
component of surrender. In the Zen tradition there is a great em-
phasis for instance on spontaneity as well as on the expression of
the meditative state in art and life. In Zazen itself the meditation
process is an invitation not only to a quieting of the mind but to a
non‑obstructed state. Furthermore, in all Buddhist schools an atti-
tude of letting go is invoked by the practice of refuge, in which the
meditator surrenders to the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha
(concepts approximately equivalent to the Christian ones of the
“divine within,” God’s will and the Communion of Saints). Of
course letting-go is well known to practitioners and instructors
in various non‑expressive techniques ranging from anapanasati
to Taoist meditation—for the practice of doing nothing evokes
many spontaneous experiences that constitute the perceptual or
physical consequences of control relinquishment. Just as in the
Taoist tradition the cultivation of an understanding of the Tao in
its emptiness runs parallel to the cultivation of alignment with
the Tao as natural flow (both in outer movement and in the in-
ner movement of chi) so, too, in the Buddhist tantric traditions,
realization is described both in terms of wisdom and in terms of
a subtle pranic body.
The fact that freedom and spontaneity are not regarded the
mark of a distinct category of meditation in Buddhism is inspired,
I think, by an implicit pedagogy: a teaching strategy of steering
away from the attempt of pursuing spontaneity deliberately, and
from the temptation of letting an interest in meditation distract
the practitioner from the cultivation of non-attachment, in which
the practitioner is invited to focus his attention in such a way that
spontaneity remains as spontaneous as possible.
Yet in time I, too, became dissatisfied with my early tri-polar
model of the meditation domain; not because I had ceased to
regard the surrender of control an independent component of
meditation (particularly striking in certain forms appropriately
designated as expressive meditation), but because the tri-polar
model failed to distinguish properly between the practice of
mindfulness and that of meditation on a fixed object.
Thus, I eventually changed my meditation map into one both
triadic and bi-polar, in which the simple polarity of “Apollonian
vs. Dionysian” became articulated into a set of three independent
active/passive continua or “dimensions.”
At first—before I arrived at a sixfold view of the meditation
realm in terms of three yin/yang dimensions—I shifted from my
initial tri-polar map in On the Psychology of Meditation to a two-
dimensional fourfold view as in Figure 2 below:
Figure 2
God-mindedness
(meditation with an object)
mind-control letting go
(Shamata) (trance)
Mindfulness
(Vipassana)
According to the updated model, four aspects of meditation

were understood as the expression of two bi-polar continua, each
spanning a specific complementarity.
The mind-calming practices of Buddhist shamata or Patan
jali’s raja yoga, which are geared to stopping the mind, are in
this scheme contrasted to experiences such as inwardly guided
shamanic trance, spiritual inspiration (or prophetic as known
by the Western mystical tradition), or the pranic phenomena of
tantrism. To emphasize the nature of the underlying polarity, I
have spoken of a “stop-go” dimension of meditation.
Both in the (active) case of mind-control as in that of (passive)
surrender to the deeper spontaneity of the mind, it is a matter
of action: non-doing no less than non-interference can be said to
span a conative dimension of the mind and meditation.
The second dimension in Figure 2 is, by contrast, cognitive—
for the alternatives it spans involve a contrasting focus of atten-
tion.
Awareness may be turned to the particulars of immediate
experience (whether it be the experience of the body or, more
broadly, sensory experience, feeling experience, or the thinking
process)—to the phenomenal, at the surface of the mind. To
designate such attention to the particulars of experience I use
the word “mindfulness.” Alternatively, attention may be turned
to the sense of sacredness, which, in turn, is invoked through
its holy names and many faces—i.e., symbolic allusions to the
ground of consciousness.
Just as there is a practice of mindfulness, then, there is a prac-
tice of God-mindedness or evocation of sacredness, in which con-
centrated attention is focused on the abstract or imaginal realm as
a way to absorption in a simple or complex meditation object.
It is easy to see that in either instance—that of the stop/go di-
mension of meditation as well as in that of inwardly vs. outwardly
directed attention—it is not a question of a simple opposition, but
of a complementarity of active/passive alternatives.
Thus for centuries mindfulness has been cultivated as an ap-

proach to transcendence; and, conversely, many of those who
have been touched by the experience of transcendence have, in
time, ripened to an integration between transcendental awareness
and ordinariness in the here and now. Likewise, stillness and flow
constitute a complementarity and not merely an opposition, for
despite the existence of characteristic states (such as were recog-
nized by Roland Fischer in his physiological distinction of enstatic
and ecstatic domains), there is also a mental state characterized
at the same time by mental flow and an inner permeability or
openness. This is indicated in the Zen metaphor of the empty sky
that allows movement of birds or clouds; a condition in which
the meditator becomes aware of a stable, ever silent and undif-
ferentiated core of mind, that is neither disturbed nor obscured
by the flow of thoughts and other mental events—from which,
precisely in view of the non‑obstructedness (of the mental con-
dition), proceeds a maximum of creative freedom and organic
appropriateness.
We may think of these four processes or tasks that the
meditator can embark upon as four internal gestures, and of the
process of meditation as consisting in different proportions of
not‑doing, letting‑go, paying attention, and evoking (or invok-
ing) sacredness. Some techniques have a predominantly calming
effect; others partake more of the invocational or worship qual-
ity; others may lie halfway between surrender and the concen-
trative effort.
The domain of kundalini yoga, for instance, can be seen as
a combination of mindfulness and God‑mindedness: meditation
on the chakras (body centers) involves mindfulness, for atten-
tion is focused on parts of the body that are not ordinarily in the
foreground of awareness but in the background of experience
(for we are mostly aware of the surface of our bodies, and such
meditation invites us to focus on the somewhat forgotten center
or axis of the body). Yet along with this mindfulness component
there is also in the tantric traditions a deliberate invocation of
divine attributes; and different aspects of sacredness are super-

imposed on the chakras, while these, in turn, are evoked through
visualization of colors and symbolic geometrical patterns, and,
with the support of mantra and the invocation of deities, with
specific mythic and visual characteristics.
When at the request of Dr. John R. Staude and the Conscious-
ness and Culture magazine2 I presented the fourfold map of medi-
tation that I have just outlined, I did not include in that analysis
the cultivation of love as a form of meditation, and that omission
introduced a rather questionable boundary between devotional
practices and the rest of the meditation domain—particularly
since surrender and God‑mindedness, which are hardly separable
from devotion in the life of prayer, are included. For those who
prefer to exclude devotionalism from the sphere of meditation
proper, the more extended map that I am now proposing could
be more appropriately called a map of spiritual exercises rather
than “meditation.” Whatever the case—dimensions of medita-
tion or, more generally, of spiritual practice—I have in recent
years chosen to include devotionalism in my topography of
consciousness—in its diverse cultural forms, including the culti-
vation of compassion and guru bhakti.
As I proposed at the 1981 APA (American Psychological As-
sociation) meeting in San Francisco and at the Bombay meeting of
the International Transpersonal Association in 1982, a survey of
this enlarged realm makes it clear that meditation in a broad sense
of the word needs to be explained in reference to more than the
conative axis (of not-doing/surrender) and the cognitive axis (of
attention to sensory perception/inner representations) but also an
affective axis, not only in view of the dominant characteristics of
the paths of austere sacrificial detachment and of devotion, but
also in reference to qualities intrinsic to full‑blown meditative
realization.
I formulated this affective axis (represented in Figure 3 as
perpendicular to the page) as one spanning the polarity of loving
and detachment, and it is easy to see that here again the yin/yang
opposition involves a complementarity; for just as bountiful love

flows from non-attachment, non-attachment is kindled by love.
Figure 3
God-mindedness
love
stop go
Non-attachment
Mindfulness
By non‑attachment I mean the power of renunciation and

sacrifice grounded in a “cosmic indifference” or transcendent
neutrality. Such non-attachment does not involve a lack of energy
or emotion, but a disidentification from the emotional realm and
an “extinction” of the passions.
Love, on the other hand, is the end point of a transformation
of “samsaric” or degraded passional energies—a returning of
psychological energy from the condition of deficiency motivation
to that of abundance motivation, from its obscured to its primal
and natural condition.
Just as, according to the old Indian Cosmogonic myth, In-
dra thrusted his vajra in the great dragon Vritra and caused all
the waters that he held in his body to fall in the form of rain to
form the oceans and rivers that sustain life in our world, so the
enlightening power of meditative activity may be said to put an
end to a holding‑on gesture of the mind that constitutes both a
degraded derivative of love and, in its reaching for it, prevents its
recognition and expression.
We may view these six mental processes that I have enumer-
ated (and corresponding states) as facets of meditation or com-
ponents of the meditation process; yet to speak of “facets” or
“components” implies that they are different aspects of a single

underlying process.
Figure 4
Non-attachment God-mindedness
>
Non-doing Letting-go
>
>
>
>
>
Mindfulness Love
The convergent arrows in Figure 4 convey the idea of the

meditation components as different avenues to a single process
of ego-suspension or temporary ego-dissolution.
Thus non‑doing, to the extent that it brings everything to a
stop in the psyche, is a natural remedy for anything that may be
going wrong; whatever the dynamics, whatever our habits, emo-
tions, and thoughts—if we only manage to stop whatever we are
doing that is dysfunctional, we are momentarily healthy. So the
calming helps us, regardless of the kind of compulsive behavior
that permeates our psyche, and we may say that the attempt to
quiet the inertia of ongoing mental agitation is like a grinding
against the ego.
Letting‑go also works like an ego‑antidote. From one point
of view, the ego is like an usurper that has taken control of the
psyche, so that in place of the healthy and desirable situation of
control of (the whole) body/mind complex by the whole, there
has arisen a control of the whole by a part: an island within the
psyche that pretends to be the whole and calls itself “I,” which
creates an implicit inner tyranny.
In connection with letting‑go of “insular” control, it is per-
tinent to bring in the biological concept of organismic self-regu-
lation, which became widespread through Fritz Perls and Gestalt
therapy and constitutes a modern echo of the old idea of Tao. Just
as in Tao and Tê there is the notion that by yielding to an inner
spontaneity the individual acts in harmony with the world, Perls
introduced the notion that when organismic self‑regulation is

allowed to operate, a deeper coherence and wisdom of the mind
may come into play healing the neurotic complications of egoic
“control madness.” We may say that we are designed in such a way
that, if we function properly, we find ourselves in harmony with
something beyond us—whereas, if this regulation of the whole by
the whole is inhibited, we lack the fluidity and complexity that are
within our potential and must make decisions through the opera-
tion of conceptual thinking and deficiency motivation alone.
Another aspect of the ego is unconsciousness—an active
unconsciousness. If a part regulates the whole, it must do so at
the expense of repression; it must block awareness and interfere
with impulse. To keep something from expression, it has to ignore
it. Through unconsciousness the personality is fragmented and
comes to see itself as separated from the whole. “Ordinary con-
sciousness” involves such a lowering of awareness that we don’t
even have a complete and integrated body-sense, to say nothing
of emotional awareness and direct knowledge of our thinking ex-
perience. And so we can say that mindfulness—awareness—is an
antidote for this active unconsciousness; in restoring awareness
and cultivating contact with immediate experience, the psycho-
logical inertia of the ego is counteracted.
Something similar can be said about God‑mindedness, con-
centration on the holy or creative imagination. It is also an an-
tidote to the ego because in the functioning of the ego there is
not only a veiling over of perception and a fragmentation, but
a loss of meaning, a loss of value. Dante expressed this in the
Divine Comedy by making hell—the realm of greater emotional
sickness—inaccessible to angels. (Angels, in the Commedia, move
about in heaven and purgatory but, with a single exception, they
don’t come into hell.) I think this is a good metaphor for the fact
that in the mechanical mind of the ego, which is like a puppet, a
computer, or a life‑simulation, there is no place for the mystery
of existence.
The ego might be called a false‑self. It is something that calls

itself “self ” and, precisely because it is not the fullness of our be-
ing, it contains, more or less veiled, the experience of a lack of
being and also a thirst for being. The ego has apparent being, is
an apparent personality, but to the extent we “are” our ego, we
are only trying to be, wanting to be. We would like to be more
alive, we would like to be full, and it is this thirst for being that
moves us to do most of what we do. From this thirst for being
and the corresponding threat of non-being comes the craving, the
anger, the need always to keep things out. We might say that the
blood that runs in the veins of the ego is this craving, this thirst;
while the “blood of being”—of the “soul,” the “true self,” the
“essence” or the enlightened condition—is abundance, which is
to say love. If we consider that love with its sense of abundance
and over-flowing, is a part of both health and enlightenment, we
may understand the activation of love as one more path to ego-
transcendence.
And the same may be said of non‑attachment: it is, like the
other ingredients of meditative disciplines, a method for the
suspension of the ego, for the ego, rooted in craving, can only
practice non‑attachment by getting out of the way—i.e. through
self‑inhibition.
But if we may conceive of the six alternate gestures of medita-
tion as ways to the undoing of the ego, we may also view them as
paths to the realization of Being. For the extinction of the “lower
mind” and the realization of the “greater mind,” the dissipation
of illusion and the cognition of transcendent truth are comple-
mentary aspects of meditation’s goal: nirvana (the suspension of
“samsaric” consciousness and the passions) being complementary
to enlightenment (sambodhi or awakening) or, in the language of
Sufism, fana (annihilation), the door to baqa (permanence).
Thus far I have been speaking of the three dimensions of
meditation as if they were completely independent of each oth-
er—as the three dimensions of space, appropriately represented
by the orthogonal coordinates of analytic geometry. This is only

an approximation, however, for the different gestures of the
mind under discussion are not completely independent from one
another. We cannot, for instance, completely separate awareness
from inner calm, or calm from detachment.
Without elaborating on the different connections between
the six meditation components among themselves, let me only
say that there is a special affinity between the practices of
non‑doing, mindfulness, and non‑attachment; and there is,
likewise, a relationship between their opposite poles: letting‑go,
God‑mindedness, and love. We may speak, in the case of the
former three, of a “yogic complex”—for these are the attitudes
most characteristic of Indian and Buddhist yoga (and, generally
speaking, of far Eastern spirituality); while in the case of the other
three we may recognize the “religious complex”—that is, the
constellation of practices characteristic of religion in the Western
sense—shared by Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and also by Indian
devotionalism.
These two predominant orientations in spiritual practice—
the Apollonian and the Dionysian—sometimes called the “dry”
and the “wet” ways, or the “solar” and “lunar” paths—are
not incompatible, however, as is historically demonstrated by
the combination of both in the early Western mysteries, in the
Middle-Eastern tradition of the “masters of wisdom,” in Indian
tantrism, and by the considerable elaboration of both in Tibetan
Buddhism.
In Figure 5 is shown the interdependence of non-ego and
spiritual cognition or awakening, and the way in which each of
the six basic exercises contribute to both. In it I have emphasized
with dark lines (as distinct from dotted) how in the yogic path
the process of ego-suspension is emphasized, while the religious
path emphasizes the unveiling of higher being. As remarked else-
where3 the situation is like the one pointed out by Kurt Lewin
decades ago in his film of a young child who, after repeated
frustration, discovers that, in order to sit, he must turn his back
to the chair.
Figure 5
Gnosis
religious, wet, lunar, Dyonisian

yogic, dry, solar, Appollonian
Non-attachment God-mindedness
Non-doing 
 Letting go 
 Mindfulness Love 
Non-ego
From the point of view of the preceding analysis, my inquiry

as to the nature of meditation has been answered with the iden-
tification of six meditation paths to ego-suspension and ultimate
transcendental knowledge: the invocation of sacredness, awake-
ness to the here and now, stilling of the mind through yogic
control, surrendering the mind to its natural spontaneity, non-
attachment and love.
Yet are not such exercises anything but a prelude to medi-
tation proper? For, is not the pinnacle of the meditator’s art
(whether we choose to call it “meditation proper” or “non-
meditation”) a spontaneous condition transcending every form
of spiritual exercise?
Conversely stated: the description of any manner of psy-
chological exercise falls short of the expression of supreme con-
sciousness. Supreme consciousness and reality—what Plotinus
called “the One”—is, rather, a nothingness of which nothing can
be said. In view of its being beyond characteristics and nameless,

it is appropriate that we heed Wittgenstein’s contention at the end
of his Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus: “of that which cannot be
spoken, we must be silent.” Yet if the One is unnameable, many
spiritual traditions have talked about higher consciousness in the
light of a triad or another—as in Sat-Chit-Ananda, in the Chris-
tian Trinity, the Buddhist Trikaya, and the three gunas of Samkya
philosophy. In the present analysis of the aspects of meditation,
we may ask: have we not missed a third alternative in each case
where a yin/yang opposition obtains? Is it not the case that the
highest meditation not only involves a complementarity between
the active and the passive alternatives of a given continuum, but
that this coincidence of opposites is itself the expression of a
reconciling neutrality?
In the following analysis I undertake to show that, indeed,
each of the three realms that I have presented as a bi-polar con-
tinuum may be alternatively conceived as tri-polar, and that in
each a neutral alternative may be found to the active and passive.
If we call the former “Apollonian” and “Dionysian,” it would be
fitting to call this third “negative” (in the sense of “neti-neti”) or
neutral alternative, “Buddhist.”
Let us reconsider, then, the inner/outer continuum of mind-
fulness/God‑mindedness.
It is very true that we may direct attention to the particulars
of sensory‑motor experience or, alternatively, to inner objects
such as divine attributes, mandalas or concepts (including self
and emptiness) that serve as bridges to qualities of consciousness
and sacredness. But is there not an alternative to these inner and
outer objects? There is—in that consciousness can turn on itself;
or, rather: awareness can become cognizant of itself without be-
coming its own object.
Though this approach to meditation surely finds its most re-
fined expression in the Buddhist Ati‑yoga tradition, it is as ancient
as yoga and is the aim of practices in many schools, including the
contemplation experience of some Christian mystics and Ramana

Maharshi’s “Who am I?”
I quote, for instance, from Swami Muktananda’s I Am That
which purports to echo the teachings of the Vijnanabhairava. He
begins by pointing out that man goes through great trouble to
acquire knowledge of the material world but
Because he doesn’t know the boundless happiness which lies

inside his heart, he looks for satisfaction in mundane activities and
pleasures.... The divine Principle which creates and sustain this
world pulsates within us in the form of supremely blissful light....
Some philosophers say that the Self cannot be known. Yet, the Self
is always being experienced, at every moment of our lives....
A sage wrote, “The Self, Shiva, is supremely pure and indepen-
dent, and you can experience it constantly throbbing and pulsating
within your mind.”
It cannot be perceived by the senses because it makes the senses
function. It cannot be perceived by the mind because it makes the
mind think. Still, the Self can be known, and to know it one does
not need the help of the mind or the senses.
According to Shaivism, the supreme Principle has two aspects,
prakasha and vimarsha. With prakasha that Principle illuminates
everything in the world, including itself. With vimarsha, that Prin-
ciple gives knowledge about the things it illuminates, and also dif-
ferentiates between them.... The Self which gives light to the inner
and outer senses also illuminates itself.
One striking contribution of Buddhism to this recognition is

the shift from self‑talk to the no‑self view, which in time became
the sunyata or emptiness doctrine. Of course, “self ” is still an
entity and Buddhism, wanting to emphasize how the essence
of meditation transcends every thing and every concept, deems
inappropriate to it even the notions of Being or non‑being. In-
stead of speaking of self‑knowledge or knowledge of the self as
Vedanta had done, Buddhism speaks of knowledge of “Mind”
or of “Truth.” While avoidance of the word “self ” discourages
grasping at anything at all, it cannot be doubted that the wis-
dom of seeing into the “heart of mind” in Buddhism is not a

different experience than that described by Patanjali in terms of
realizing that the purusha transcends the psychic apparatus. We
find confirmation in Padmasambhava’s terma (or hidden) text,
Self-Liberation through Seeing with Naked Awareness,4 in which
he explains:
Some call it “the nature of mind” or “mind itself.” Some Tirthikas

call it by the name Atman or “the Self.” The Sravakas call it the
doctrine of Anatman or “the absence of a self.” The Chittamatrins
call it by the name Chitta or “the Mind.” Some call it the Prajna-
paramita or “the Perfection of Wisdom.” Some call it the name
Tathagatagarbha or “the embryo of Buddhahood.” Some call it by
the name Mahamudra or “the Great Symbol.” Some call it by the
name of “the Unique Sphere.” Some call it by the name Dharmad-
hatu or “the dimension of Reality.” Some call it by the name Alaya
or “the basis of everything.” And some simply call it by the name
“ordinary awareness.”
There is, then, a concentrated form of attention that fo-

cuses neither on inner nor outer objects: a diffuse attention that
does not focus at all, but without fixating on anything is omni-
directionally available while it “tastes” its own presence. This is
what Tibetan Buddhism calls rigpa, “intrinsic awareness”—and
the most refined approaches to meditation—Mahamudra and
Dzogchen—are concerned with its recognition. That its attain-
ment transcends mental exercises was made clear by the Sixth
Patriarch in his famous reply to a less enlightened monk to the
effect that Zen practice is not so much a matter of dusting off the
mind but a cognition of mind’s essence.
Now that our exploration of the cognitive axis of meditation
has revealed that beyond the polarity of mindfulness/God-mind-
edness, attention may abide in itself, let us now consider another
set of polar opposites in meditation and see whether here too we
may discern a third term pointing to a deeper aspect of the mind,
a common root or synthesis of both.
The stop/go or calm/surrender dimension of meditation re-

minds us that meditation is peace. Yet insofar as shamata is mind
pacification through mind control, it falls short of peace, in which
are conjoined non-agitation and non-obstruction—tranquility
and life-flow.
We may say that deep meditative realization is one in which
there is neither (concentrative) control of the mind nor control-
relinquishment, and in which there is a coincidence of non-effort
and the process of life. While in mind-pacification we are still
dealing with an exercise in the inhibition of action and of think-
ing, which involves trying not to try, peace or ease of the mind
might be characterized as wu-wu-wei: not (even) not doing.
As I reflect on alternative ways of describing the meeting
point between mind-calming and letting-go—a third state that
might be regarded their common background or synthesis—I
think of expressions such as non-interference, naturalness, per-
meability, openness, spaciousness, emptiness.
And in the case of awareness-of-awareness, such non-trying
stands in contrast to meditation exercises proper, as an aspect
of meditation’s goal: something to be discovered in the mind’s
natural condition rather than constructed or achieved.
If intrinsic awareness is the simplest aspect of mind’s cogni-
tion, only that it is eclipsed by our habitual consciousness (as the
stars that become invisible in the light of day), similarly non-
interference or openness is not something that may be fabricated,
but the simple expression of ego-dissolution. Indeed intrinsic
awareness and emptiness constitute a polarity no different from
that which we have already encountered in discussing the goal of
meditation: gnosis and non-ego or awakening and annihilation.
Just as we discovered a third alternative to the orientation of
cognition toward the sensate and toward the symbolic in intrinsic
awareness, and as we found an alternative to both inhibition and
disinhibition (or, excitement) in openness, can we find a third
alternative to affective engagement/disengagement?
We may find it in a turning of valuation upon itself rather

than toward outer objects: a condition of appreciation without
an object comparable to awareness without an object, only that
awareness is cognitiveness and appreciation is valuation.
The words “bliss” and “blessedness” have been tradition-
ally used for the experience of such self-reflective love-without-
object. And we may say that bliss or spiritual satisfaction is at
the mid point between love and non-attachment: a source from
which both non-attachment and love arise, and a condition to
which both may be preparatory.
At this point in my analysis I wonder how many among my
readers may have asked themselves whether I, who have been
known for applications of the enneagram to psychology, have
not been all along implicitly presenting an “enneagram of medi-
tation”?
The truth is that I did not at the time of formulating the
sixfold domain of meditation exercises and components (and
corresponding states of consciousness), yet the appropriateness
of the enneagram as a universal meditation map became apparent
to me through a simple question of my wife, Suzy Stroke, after
reading my statement on the “six gestures”: “Could these not fit
in the enneagram?”
But before I say anything further on this matter I need to ex-
plain that the enneagram was introduced to the Western world by
G. I. Gurdjieff,5 in whose treatment the symbol was a parallel to
the musical scale and to the spelling out of the steps along what
he called the “ray of creation.” According to Gurdjieff this cosmic
map was said to have been originated in an ancient esoteric school
as the mathematical symbol for the operation of two universal
laws: the “law of three” and the “law of seven.” If one considers
that in the figure of the enneagram (Figure 6), the nine points
belong to two sets of six and three, respectively, we may wonder
about how the figure expresses “a law of seven.”
The answer is in the notion of tri-unity. Alternatively, the en-
neagram structure might be rendered as the sixfold of a “Star of
Figure 6
David” with a central point in which three-foldness is implicit.

The enneagram, thus, might be described as an abstract way of
spelling out two successive emanations: one from the One to
three-foldness and another from the 3 to the 3+6, which may be
discussed as both 9 and 7.
Though Gurdjieff used the enneagram as a map for cycles in
time, it is its application to psychological structure, presented by
Oscar Ichazo in the late sixties, and developed by myself, that is
most relevant to the present analysis, so let me say in the briefest
way what we need to consider about the enneagram of character
as a prelude to an application of the enneagram to the medita-
tion realm.
In Figure 7 I have placed along the points of the enneagram
labels corresponding to personality types known in clinical psy-
chology. A familiarity with this map reveals that three pairs of
opposites follow one another along the enneagram periphery.
The obsessive and rigid character mapped in point 1 stands in
sharp contrast to the indulgent, over-fluid, mischievous and
histrionic character in point 2, which rebels against constraints
just as the “perfectionist” accepts the discipline of restraint and
imposes prohibitions and duties on self and others. Though it
would be a mistake to say that the mental discipline of an obses-
sive (or, as I have called this neurotic style, “perfectionist”) is
the same thing as meditative concentration, it is also true that
the practice of mind-control demands zeal and involves a subtle
austerity. After equating the obsessive style with the discipline of
Figure 7
Dependent-symbiotic
9
Phallic-narcissistic Obsessive
and anti-social 8 1
Oral-receptive
7 Histrionic
2
and maniac
Paranoid 6 3 Hysteric-narcissistic

and insecure
Schizoid 5 4 Self-defeating and borderline
concentration in the meditation realm, it becomes apparent that

the polarity between the perfectionist and the histrionic is echoed
in the polarity between attempting to stop the mind and letting
it go. The histrionic person is too self-indulgent, too restless and
pleasure-seeking to gravitate toward shamata, yet may be lured
into the spiritual path through expressive meditation, surrender
to trance and organismic guidance. It is not that the pathological
willfulness and hedonistic rejection of constraints of an all-too-
expressive seducer is the same thing as the meditative freedom
of the mind, yet the egocentric “E2,6” being a seeker of freedom,
makes a natural Dionysian.
At the bottom region of the enneagram we find the con-
trasting characters E4 and E5. The former is best known in the
psychological world as self-defeating, masochistic, depressive
or borderline, while E5 is best known as schizoid. It is apparent
that the contrast between these characters reflects the contrast
between the non-attached and the loving poles in the affective
axis of the meditation realm. Since the polarity in the realm of
character is between the over-involvement of the excessively
craving (“oral-aggressive”) E4 and the under-involvement of the
apathetic and aloof E5, this suggests that envisioning a polarity
between non-attachment and compassion seems more appropri-
ate than one between austerity and love: the willingness of the
compassionate person to maintain involvement in the presence of
pain may be said to echo more precisely than “love” the patho-
logical over-involvement of the masochist, who will cling in spite
of frustration or victimization.
After having mapped the conative and the affective axis of
meditation realm so felicitously, we expect to find an echo of the
cognitive polarity of meditation in the remaining region of the
personality enneagram, and so it is: the opposition between the
creative imagination of “God-mindedness” and the “mindful-
ness” of the “here and now” corresponds exactly with the tenden-
cies of E7 and E8. While the “oral-optimistic” “charlatan” over
indulges in fantasy and symbolization, the “phallic-narcissistic”
and tough-minded E8 clings to sensateness in the present, dis-
daining symbolic or conceptual representations.
What sense does the mapping of the six meditations gestures
on the enneagram make when tested against the structure of the
inner flow?
If we begin by considering the 1–4 connection, we must ask:
is concentration or one-pointedness something that stands in con-
trast to compassion, and does it make sense to say that ekagrata
or calm abiding leads to or supports compassion? The answer is
clear: yogic super-concentration is in contrast to compassion as
Shiva to Shakti, stillness to flowing; and yet the experience of
centuries confirms the contention that meditation is a support for
virtue and may lend to the development of love. And understand-
ably so: the practice of ego-suspension in stillness and isolation is
of the same nature but simpler than the practice of transcending
the hindrances or passions in life. Loving involvement may be said
to be the spontaneous condition that manifests when the kleshas
have been “burnt” by yogic practice.
Besides, there is in concentration a renunciation, a giving
up of interest in all that lies beyond the focus of attention. This
“cutting away” occurs also in compassion, in which the focus is
the suffering of others.
The arrow between 4 and 2 invites us to consider the relation

between compassion and trance, and the contrast between sur-
rendering to the well-being of another and the kind of surrender
involved in possession trance and inner guidance is obvious. Yet
the polarity is clear: while in attunement to inner or higher guid-
ance there is a yielding to pleasure; in compassion the issue is a
yielding to pain. Also, in the movement from 4 to 2, the focus
shifts from the other to the self. Just as in the domain of charac-
ter E2 is “I-centered” and E4 “other-centered,” so in the realm
of meditation something similar is obtained: compassion, in its
other-centeredness, involves a privation, while a non-privation is
involved in inspiration.
And can we not say that the other-centered and self-sacri-
ficing practice of compassion is conducive to the attunement,
inspiration and permeability to the flow of life that constitute
“letting go” at its best?
I personally think that a kindly disposition not only facilitates
unconditional surrender but is rewarded by what blessings may
emerge from inspiration and possession trance.
Let us now consider the enneagram arrow from 2 to 8 which
echoes the contrast between possession trance and vipassana.
It is clear that a subtle surrender supports vipassana practice:
a choiceless surrender in being open to the flow of experience
as well as the deeper surrender involved in the “pranic flow”
characteristic of advanced practice. (Such is the source of well
known sensations that are the focus of the U-Ba-Khin approach
to vipassana, emphasizing body awareness and the subtle vibra-
tory phenomena.)
As for the relation between mindfulness (8) and non-attach-
ment (5), this is most apparent since mindfulness is the field in
which non-attachment (or austerity) is practiced, non-attachment
(i.e., non-indulgence in attachment or aversion) being the imme-
diate goal of vipassana training.
What is the relation between non-attachment (5) and creative
imagination (7)? The polarity is apparent: numinosity evokes and
is evoked by enthusiasm which is opposite to the neutrality of

non-attachment. Yet non-attachment is the gateway to radiance,
as emptiness is the source of vision.
Nothing could be so antithetical as the exuberance of creative
imagination (7) and the quiet sobriety of concentration (1). Yet
is not the sense of sacredness the most powerful incentive to
concentration? Before the holy, attention is naturally focused,
and spontaneous renunciation sets in. Yogis at the time of Patan-
jali applied this to concentration training through the practice
of evoking deities in the chakras; and in Tibetan visualization
practices too, the sense of sacredness helps the development of
concentration and mental quietness.
Just as we have found that the sixfold realm of the ways of
meditation is mapped in the enneagram’s hexad, the inner core
of meditation—and of the mind, to be discovered at the end of
meditation’s course—can be mapped in the enneagram’s inner
triangle.
Geometry makes it unambiguous, for the relation of each
successive pair of opposites along the circumference to a center
of symmetry assists us in the recognition: in the meditation ennea
gram, as in the personality enneagram, point 6 belongs in some
sense with points 1 and 2; 3 with 7 and 8; 9 with 4 and 5.
Parenthetically, it may be of interest to spell this out in the
personality domain before returning to the consideration of
meditation: while in some sense fear (which in its naked state is
avoidant) is the opposite of the perfectionistic (E1) and histrionic
(E2) characters, which are assertive and contactful, in other ways
fear-grounded character is similar to E1 and E2, and is often con-
fused with them. The same is true of E3: while E3 people often
think of themselves as E8 or E7, E3 is opposite to both in terms
of an anti-social/pro-social (or “rebellion/agreeableness”) dimen-
sion. And it is also true that the self-postponing E9 is frequently
confused with E5 (for its resignation) or with E4 (in the case of
conscious depression), though E9 contrasts with the inwardness
and selfishness of both.
In Figure 7 are shown the three sets of contrasting kinds (or

components) of meditation along with the corresponding nuclear
feature of consciousness. It now remains to ascertain that the
mapping of core meditation issues onto the enneagram’s inner
triangle is as relevant to characterological issues as we saw in the
case of the six meditation exercises.
Is there some relation between awareness-of-awareness,
mapped on point 3, and enneatype 3, characterized as image-
conscious, over-active, superficial and alert?
Indeed: only that the otherwise disciplined attention of E3
resists being directed toward the mind-core. While the so called
“ego-go” is keenly effective and attentive to appearance and
production, the present model suggests that it needs to focus its
attention to the subtlest region of undifferentiated consciousness
at rest.
Is the idea of a neutrality beyond both letting go and active
mind control relevant to the characterological style mapped onto
point 6 in the egotype enneagram?
Enneatype 6 is sometimes passive, sometimes over-active,
but always ambivalent: a “tormented soul,” in whose psyche an
excessive energy is invested in the antagonism between desire and
its prohibition.
There is nothing that an E6 needs more than to “get out of
the way” of life, to leave himself alone; for fear, inaction is no
other than the loss of healthy non-interference with organismic
self-regulation. The distrusting person (be he/she insecure, para-
noid or obsessive) fears relinquishing an obsolete attachment to
what was, at the dawn of life, a “panic reaction”—an emergency
response to intense pain.
Because of this, he or she fears “simply to be,” letting go of
the defensive apparatus, and needs the courage, then, to just be
in peace.
Let us now inquire into the relation between bliss and E9
character.
Figure 8
bliss
peace light
E9 is that in which the “capital sin” or basic hindrance is

acidia (from the Greek a-chedia = no care), poorly echoed in
today’s “sloth.” The dominant passion is one of playing possum
to avoid being killed; the strategies are of self-deadening and self-
deafening in pursuit of survival.
What does “deadening” mean? Not only a loss in the capacity
for self-experience, but the loss of a healthy love of self (without
which love toward others remains a shallow substitute).
When not depressed and in contact with a sense of separa-
tion, E9 is inwardly resigned and outwardly contented, even jolly.
In either case—that of conscious and that of unconscious love-
deprivation—there is an interference with the love-thirst that
extends to the minimization of all “personal” wants (in deference
to the wants of others).
Ichazo called “love” the psychocatalyst of E9, contemplative
identification with which may break away the fixation wall. And
while the enneagram of meditation is not the same thing as the
enneagram of catalysts,7 “love” is coherent with the self-loving
bliss reported by those in whom awareness of the mind’s empti-
ness and light has ripened.
While the E9 person is compulsively “loving” in a robotic
manner by one alienated from his heart, he needs, first of all,
self-love, but ultimately the experience of Spirit in the form of
ego-less love without an object—which is transcendental bliss
(ananda, mahasukha).
Just as after mapping the “meditation practice sixfold” onto

the enneagram I proceeded to testing the map through a consid-
eration of the “inner flow,”8 again at this point I think that it is
important to inquire into the contextual relevance of the notions
that have resulted from the mapping of the additional “inner
triad.” Do the lines uniting intrinsic awareness, emptiness and
bliss indicate an interdependence, a reciprocal origination?
The tantric Buddhist tradition has been explicit about the
three connections: between bliss and void, bliss and light, and
between spacious openness and the recognition of the hidden
light of intrinsic awareness.
Still, there remains a test to conduct in regard to the coher-
ence between the meditation enneagram and its triune core.
Are the three regions around the “three corners” such that a
polarity is obtained between the wings of M9,9 M6 and M3, and
such that each nuclear aspect of the mind (and of meditation)
may be viewed as a support or as resultant of its “wings”? M9
thus, should not only be understandable as a third element to the
E5-E4 and the E6-E3 polarities, but as a third element along with
the contrasting E8-E1.
This may be confirmed: while attention to the here-and-now
is panoramic in M8 and focused in M1, we may say that in M9
attention is removed from the world: neither actively persisting in
its voluntary focus nor receptively roaming and shifting its focus
from one emerging gestalt to another: it has left the world behind,
and fallen toward its own core in enjoyment of its intrinsic ap-
preciativeness. I think that, however alienated, some intuition of
the blessedness of ultimate reality constitutes the hidden source
of the sense of the value of life, and it is this that sustains both
austere concentration and the no lesser austerity of the naked
here-and-now.
I have discussed the inner/outer contrasts involved between
E5 and E7 and between E2 and E4 on occasion of discussing
the “inner flow” in the hexad, and it only remains to point the
relevance of M6 and M3 as reconciling elements.
The polarity of E4 and E2 can be envisioned as one between
being attuned (or empathic) to the needs and the good of the
other and surrendering to (or being attuned to and empathically
identifying with) the promptings of a higher or deeper self or
entity. Awareness of awareness, between both states or gestures,
gravitates neither toward the other nor a higher self, but toward
itself, like bliss, and is no more separate from bliss than the light
of a flame from its heat.
The enneagram further invites the conjecture that intrinsic
wakefulness (M3) may be cultivated through its wings—compas-
sion (E4) and surrender (E2)—which I personally regard true but
not obvious. It also suggests that, conversely, such gnosis or cog-
nitiveness by itself supports both compassion and inspiration.
It only remains for me to anticipate the possible question of

how this theory of meditation—the record of a gratuitous con-
templation of the domain—may be also useful.
May the theory be practically applied? Could it be that the
remarkable coherence between psychotherapy and meditation
styles may carry a prescriptive consequence?
If for particular kinds of meditation there is a special suit-
ability according to personality structure, does this mean that
the perfectionist should practice yogic citta vritti nirodha,10 the
seducer ishvara pranidha,11 one with a passion for appearances
some form of gnani yoga, etc.?
Though I don’t know that the experiment has been done, and
only in time may we be ready to prove or disprove such a proposi-
tion, let me only say that we should not allow this idea to obscure
an obvious and complementary suggestion of the meditation
model: that however wise it may be to harness our over-devel-
oped aspect, we also need to develop the under-developed. Thus,
the perfectionist is in particular need of learning to surrender

control, while the histrionic is in need of disciplined focus; the
E4 needs detachment and the E5, compassion; the E7, attention
to the ordinary and the E8, sacralization. The characters mapped
in the inner triangle, by contrast, may benefit from a more direct
approach to the blissful cognition of the empty mind.
CHAPTER THREE
BODY AWARENESS AND

“SUBTLE ENERGIES” IN
SPIRITUAL DEVELOPMENT
Something has been left out in my theoretical account of medita-

tion thus far: the body. For real meditation, in contrast to mere
imagination (that is to say, meditation in which there is some
measure of spiritual experience and of ego-dissolution) involves
the body. Indeed, the more advanced spiritual schools emphasize
a domain of subtle sensory awareness usually conceived as a
“higher” or “inner” body constituted of fine “energy” channels.
For while in its early stages spiritual practice affects our emotional
life and influences our understanding of things, it seems that the
process of liberation from ego’s conditioning is not complete
until the bodily ego has been penetrated through a sort of a “de-
scent into the grave.” In this grave of the body, it may be said,
lies buried that intrinsic divine essence or what some call “soul”
and others “Buddha nature.”
According to legend, King Gesar—before his rainbow-body
ascension to heaven at the end of his incarnation as a warrior king
in medieval Tibet—led his family and friends up a mountain and
then guided them there through a long retreat devoted to “the
play of air in the arteries.” So translates Mme. David-Neel the
37
Tibetan expression zalung, emphasized in the annutara and anu-

yoga tantras of the Vajrayana (Buddhist equivalent of the “kunda
lini yoga” of Indian trantrism and of the Taoist yoga associated to
the “Religion of the Golden Elixir of Life”).
Though I have refrained from using the word “kundalini” in
this chapter’s heading so as to emphasize that its contents consti-
tutes a universal aspect of spiritual evolution (and, conversely, to
de-emphasize its association with both Indian culture and Ameri-
can charlatanism), I cannot fail to point out the appropriateness
of the meaning indicated by the expression “kundalini shakti”:
“the serpent (and/or serpentine) power.”
Not only is the gliding of the serpent a natural association and
at times a synesthetic concomitant of felt serpentine flow-paths
in the body, but the slow and continuous process of subtle body
transformation that goes hand-in-hand with spiritual develop-
ment in time has been described by Indian yoga as the “awaken-
ing” of a dormant “inner snake” (at the base of the trunk) fol-
lowed by its uncoiling and rising to the crown of the head.
It is likely that the “snake power” has been known since
the prehistoric beginnings of religion’s life, as the giant snake
printings in the ceiling of caves at Rouffignac1 and other places
suggest.
If the animal paintings of the neolithic have served as sup-
ports for a communion with nature spirits, it is likely that the gi-
ant serpents were designed to invoke not simply an animal spirit
among others, but something akin to a spirit of nature—a great
mother spirit, both outer and inner, who is both life and life’s
guiding principle.
Very early clay tablets from the Mohenjodaro culture in India
showing the motif of a serpent by a sitting yogi bespeak the antiq-
uity of both yoga and its tantric dimension. Also, the association
of snake and tree is a widespread feature of the conception of
paradise in ancient cultures.
Though after the rise of patriarchal culture in the bronze age,
the snake—along with the body—was demonized, there is reason
Body Awareness and “Subtle Energies” 39
to interpret the original association of serpent and tree in Paradise

as indicative of a sacralization of the natural order, and to believe
that, before the arising of its role as tempter, it served a complete-
ly different mythical function. In the scene depicted in the Hittite
stone engraving above, in which the serpent is seen presenting a
fruit to the first man, it appears as wholly beneficent.
Alain Danielou’s contention that the Dionysian religion of
the European mysteries was not different from Shiva religion in
India,2 not only throws light on the identification between Dio-
nysius and the snake but is coherent with the sense of a tantric
awareness pervading Greek mythology in general. Let us only
bring to mind how the Delphic Oracle that presided over Greek
culture in antiquity originally belonged to the snake goddess. Ac-
cording to myth Apollo conquered Python and took possession
of her Oracle just as Zeus slayed the mythological Typhon at the
dawn of Olympian patriarchy.
What, then, is this “Great Snake” of most ancient antiquity?
In the words of Ichazo, through whom I was practically intro-
duced to the subject, “Kundalini is God.” Yet this is a statement
that takes for granted the experience of kundalini as something
physical. A more complete statement, thus, is that the Serpent
Goddess is the individual’s body itself when sacralized or divin-
ized through a subtle transformation.
Before addressing this transformation of the body, which
is but a facet of the more comprehensive transformation in the
individual (what could be called the “kundalini process”) let us
consider the “kundalini phenomenon,” as it manifests at any
given moment. For it would be a mistake to define it in purely
spiritual or physical terms: along with spiritual states and with a
continuously ongoing pranic process in time, comparable to the
weaving of a subtle body through the circulation of something
variously designated as light, energy or a precious substance, the
“kundalini phenomenon” involves other aspects, typically includ-
ing a visionary dimension—both literally, in reference to visions,
and in the wider sense of “contemplation.”
Furthermore, there seems to be at work in visionary life a

factor of inspiration or inner guidance that constitutes the es-
sence of shamanism and has been offered as a definition of a Sufi.
Among South American Indians that I visited in Colombia,3 snake
visions are interpreted as the expression of contact with a guiding
principle, and it will be noted that the Greek God of guidance—
Hermes—holds the snake entwined caduceus as emblem. Yet the
snake is not only a guide, an oracle or a source of wisdom: it is
also a healer—as we are reminded by the widespread professional
medical emblem. The snake power’s inspiration would seem to
be beneficently geared to our sickness and need.
There is also a feeling dimension to the kundalini phenom-
enon. It is traditionally recognized that just as a kind of drunk-
enness arises from an excessive narcissistic excitement before
spiritual experience in one not pure or healthy enough for the
“snake-journey” great pain and states of despair may supervene,
in which the person is keenly aware of his pathology and, in con-
sequence of a felt absence of spiritual experience, feels damned
or hopelessly demonized.
Not long after R. D. Laing and others in the sixties pointed
out the spiritual potential of psychotic experience (all too easy
to abort in an authoritarian demand of health) and particularly
after Esalen Institute’s initiative in bringing together various
experts interested in the subject,4 it was suggested that psychotic
experience in some cases might constitute a “kundalini accident.”
In the late seventies, for instance, Sannela published Kundalini,
Psychosis or Transcendence,5 the Grofs created “The Spiritual
Emergency Network,”6 and at least one “kundalini clinic” opened
in San Francisco.
I think that it is valid to speak of complications of the indi-
vidual’s psycho-physical development, yet a measure of “com-
plication” is the rule rather than the exception, for the healing
process involves the opening of old wounds and a glimpsing of
more truth than many can bear comfortably. Since the severity of
pre-existing pathology may lead to a tragic dead-end, however,
the dangers of esoteric teachings to the unprepared have been

stressed in different cultures.
Besides a spiritual dimension, the physical, the cognitive and
the emotional aspects described above, there is a facet of the
kundalini phenomenon that may or not be obviously apparent
and yet is, I think, not only intrinsic to it but, in a subtle sense,
the most characteristic: possession.
Possession states have been known in all cultures and all
times, but it is the most problematic form of possession—what
might be called pathological possession—that has mainly come
to attention in the West.
Typical expressions of non-pathological possession in the
high religions are the experiences of prophecy in the Old Testa-
ment and the Pentecostal experience of the Apostles, while con-
temporary expressions are prominent in the more shamanistic
Sufi lineages, the Afro-Christian-Brazilian religion and the Subud
movement.
We also know that all shamanism revolves around non-path-
ological and valuable experiences of trance and of possession.
While these two—trance and possession—constitute alternative
vehicles of shamanic development, it might be argued that they
constitute alternative manifestations of a single phenomenon
resulting from deep surrender: alternative forms of spontane-
ous mental operation in which there is a sense that it is not the
habitual mind but an inspiration beyond the scope of ordinary
consciousness that is at work. Trance is no less inwardly guided
as the possession experience, in which a person lends his body
and mind to a spiritual entity and the influence of the entity
“channeled” is manifest through action and words. Whether
inspiration is in the sphere of doing or in that of the imaginal
activity of visionary states, it is equally the case that the ordinary
mind is in abeyance, and something transpersonal takes over. The
same is the case of “energy flows”—a subtle somatic alternative
to the mental-visionary domain and the verbal-motor domains of
inspired spontaneity, so that pranic flow, creative imagination and

spiritual possession proper may all three be interpreted as expres-
sions of surrender to transpersonal or trans-egoic promptings.
But possession and visionary trance are not only specific in-
ternal states but paths that may be explicitly cultivated. A subtle
form of possession may be said to be part of all meditation, for a
factor of inspired self-direction makes of meditation a sort of cre-
ative inner navigation, in which the meditator intuitively knows
how to best meditate moment after moment with a subtlety that
far transcends the verbal formulation of any standard exercise.
Thus, meditation may begin by a practice modeled according
to some traditional technique, but it will henceforth be greatly
enhanced by a factor of intuition where the individual knows
how to understand that particular technique with the help of his
own inspiration. The point has been explained through a story
about an early Sufi—the Egyptian Dhul Nun, reported to have
unearthed a treasure from an Egyptian tomb. While everybody
had sought the treasure behind the spot where the hand of a
sculpted figure was pointing, nobody had thought that it was the
shadow of the hand that provided the true indication. By anal-
ogy, exercises are only hinted at by their fixed formulation, and
“how to meditate” is something a person learns from experience
and a subtle inner guidance along the path of his journey through
inner space.
I have by now addressed the question as to what the expe-
riential referent of the mythical snake may be. This description
needs to be complemented by an account of a temporal unfold-
ment—a “kundalini process” that begins with a first “kundalini
awakening,” climaxes, and is then followed by a sort of gradual
“kundalinization” of the body from head to feet—while the indi-
vidual’s visionary stage is followed by an experience of “spiritual
contraction.”
The old metaphor of a snake that sheds its skin is appropriate
in reference to simultaneous regeneration and shedding of old
structure throughout this process. In time, then, the kundalini is

no other than the ongoing birthing and dying that takes place at
both the psychospiritual and the physical levels.
Gopi Krishna—whose kundalini “Big-Bang” came about
through disciplined concentration that he pursued not with a
spiritual aim but for success in his studies as a school boy—
wrote decades ago the story of the long odyssey that followed
his oceanic experience, and emphasized the view of kundalini
as “the Evolutionary Energy in Man.” This notion of an “evolu-
tionary energy” reflects the acknowledgment that the process of
a kundalini awakening is inseparable from what might be called
the advanced spiritual path—that stage of spiritual evolution in
which, so to say, the pilgrim that has walked on foot, boards a
spontaneously advancing vehicle.
The metaphor of a snake uncoiling and rising is wholly ap-
propriate for the “kundalini process” in time if only not taken
too literally. The sequence of the stages in the transformative
process has a structure to it that suggests an organic unfolding,
like the order of the seasons or the stages of metamorphosis, in
which each stage is the perfect antecedent of the next and yet the
process is eminently creative and individual.
To tell the story of the unfolding “serpent” in time it is ap-
propriate, of course, to begin at the beginning—which is some-
times referred to as a “kundalini arousal.” It then seems that for
the first time something “other” has come into one’s person’s
body and mind, which seems to have a life of its own. It is as if
a spiritual seed has fallen into the person’s ordinary mind to be
incubated until it takes full root and produces full blooming. Yet
I do not believe that a person who is spiritually inseminated (for
this is a time of spiritual conception) is necessarily aware of the
physical aspect of the experience. While sometimes impressive
sensations in the spine, belly, forehead or other parts of the body
may be prominent, at other times it is the visionary aspect that
may be more predominant: there may be a perception of light,
for instance, a sense of sacredness, or perhaps a condition that

cannot be described.
My own kundalini awakening occurred in a gestalt session
with Jim Simkin, and did not involve the experience of any of the
chakras—though prana was a striking part of it. He indicated that
I needed to work on my breath, and invited me to pay attention
to it, which led first to hyperventilation, later to a new level of
acceptance of my ongoing experience in the present, and finally a
“satori” lasting some two hours as I drove back to Berkeley from
Esalen. I felt this experience had involved a “worldless conta-
gion,” and contagion in general may be one of the most impor-
tant factors in kundalini awakening. This may be the deliberate
transmission of a formal initiation, the spontaneous contagion
of spiritually evolved beings, or group contagion—particularly
in the situation of groups conducted by a spiritual teacher who
inspires a willingness to surrender.
I once was consulted by a guitarist that had studied with a
Vina master in India. He was alarmed by jerky involuntary move-
ments of his legs as he played. Sometimes “kundalini possession”
may be like this: a kind of disordered manifestation; at other
times, involuntary movements are harmonious, as is frequently
the case among Siddha yoga practitioners who, on entering a
certain region of experience, develop spontaneous mudras and
asanas.
Another possible stimulus for kundalini arousal is that of psy-
chedelics. Dr. Grof and I had a public discussion on this subject
in the late seventies since (at least then) he believed psychedelics
only activated transient kundalini states. I am, in turn, convinced
that, for many, a single psychedelic experience has been an ini-
tiation: a true ascent, or launching of a person to a higher life.
Ayahuasca, in particular, deserves to be regarded a “kundalini
activator,” as I have elaborated upon elsewhere.7
Aside from contagion and psychedelics, the most usual
stimulus to a kundalini awakening is meditation of one sort or
another. Not only the surrender of body and mind to non-egoic-

control leads to this arousing, but traditional yoga, inasmuch as
the pursuit of calm involves a contest with the ego’s passional
stirrings which in time undermine egoic interference and prepare
the ground for a greater spontaneity. Indeed, the tantric traditions
presuppose the mastery of concentration. The pedagogy of Laya
yoga or other tantric systems is such that after working hard on
getting out of the way, the person comes to a sort of spiritual
harvest, where it is not a matter of working hard anymore, but
learning to not work.
Aside from an outburst of spontaneous phenomena of the
body or the mind and a sense of subtle guidance, the mobiliza-
tion of the “serpent power” usually brings understanding—of
both traditional teachings and everyday events. Myths and story-
telling are full of spiritual insight, of course, and they could not
fail to document the entry into the spontaneous vehicle of the
inner snake.
Here are the first paragraphs from the tale of “The White
Snake” in Grimm’s collection8:
A long time ago there lived a king who was famed for his
wisdom through all the land. Nothing was hidden from him, and
it seemed as if news of the most secret things was brought to him
through the air. But he had a strange custom; every day after dinner,
when the table was cleared, and no one else was present, a trusty
servant had to bring him one more dish. It was covered, however,
and even the servant did not know what was in it, neither did any-
one know, for the King never took off the cover to eat of it until
he was quite alone.
This had gone on for a long time, when one day the servant,
who took away the dish, was overcome with such curiosity that he
could not help carrying the dish into his room. When he had care-
fully locked the door, he lifted up the cover, and saw a white snake
lying on the dish. But when he saw it he could not deny himself
the pleasure of tasting it, so he cut off a little bit and put it into
his mouth. No sooner had it touched his tongue than he heard a
strange whispering of little voices outside his window. He went and
listened, and then noticed that it was the sparrows who were chat-
tering together, and telling one another of all kinds of things which
they had seen in the fields and woods. Eating the snake had given
him power of understanding the language of animals.
The same theme is the issue when Sigfried, after slaying the
dragon and bathing in its blood, understands the language of the
birds. In one case “serpentification” has arisen through vicinity to
the king and his food, in the second, “dragonification” has been
the outcome of a heroic struggle against the passions, for here
the dragon (according to patriarchal convention) personifies the
ego or entity that has appropriated life’s energies, as well as the
potential of a higher life.
In many myths or stories the encounter with the dragon (or
sphinx, in the case of Oedipus) takes the form of a testing situ-
ation, if not one in which the mighty power may be conquered
through knowledge. In this we may see a reference to the insepa-
rability of awareness and kundalini ripening. Indeed, when the
intensity of the release manifestations that come about in sur-
render is not matched by awareness and wisdom, the individual’s
journey may get complicated.
Idries Shah’s version of a story from The Arabian Nights
makes explicit the rationale for tantric esoterism: “The Fisher-
man and the Genie”9 revolves around the idea that “man can use
only what he has learned to use.”
Whatever the prominence of its physical aspect, once the
inwardly guided self-organizing experiential process has been
triggered, the individual’s progress might be described as an
ongoing conquest of territory, an experiential deepening and a
purification from ego. But it would be a mistake to think that
the process that will naturally culminate in a mystical climax
(an “oceanic experience”) necessarily follows the blueprint of
the Hindu tantra shastras or any particular teaching system. It is
true that specific systems utilize the activation of the lowermost
chakra through sexual arousal and use visualization focused on
the raising of “energy” to the frontal region and eventually to the

crown of the head; it is also true that the activation of chakras
(or, in other words, the sense of vibratory activity at different
levels of the body) may to some extent be manipulated through
intentional shifts in attention and visualization. Yet it would be
too narrow to think that the raising of the instinctual energies to
the spiritual level through the support of visualization and breath-
ing has to be accomplished according to the specific sequence of
body energy shifts and visualizations implied in the now popular
Indian descriptions of the chakras.
It is noteworthy, however, that the Eastern energy yoga sys-
tems share a strategy for bringing the prana to rest in the central
“channel” through a sort of reciprocal activation of the upper
and lower centers. Thus, just as in Taoism the circulation of the
light proceeds between the lower cauldron (in the pelvis) and the
heavenly yellow castle (between the eyebrows), also in Tibetan
tumo the fire of the belly region is kindled by the dripping of
soma from the cranial region, and this soma, in turn, is melted
through the rising flames.
Whatever the path followed, some of those in whom the
inner-power has been awakened come to a sort of “Mount Meru
summit” in which a deep relaxation of the crown region coincides
with a sense of inner melting in which the ordinary mind seems
to dissolve in undifferentiated yet blissful spaciousness.
Though a new beginning, this experience of union at the time
appears as an end, for nothing could be more impressive. In the
symbolic account of spiritual evolution contained in the Penta
teuch, this is Sinai—the time of contact with the divine on top
of the thundering mountain. And as lightning precedes thunder,
the purest and most subtle and condensed manifestation of the
kundalini at the very beginning of its “Big-Bang” may be equated
with the bardo of the clear light in the Tibetan account of the af-
ter-death journey. After that the individual’s mental development
will seem to follow a descending ladder as the internal vibratory
phenomenon initiates a slow descent into the body.
The stage of revelation and grace—“the illuminative stage”—

will be then followed by years “in the desert,” a seeming impov-
erishment—as described by Al Ghazali through a parable of seven
valleys that need to be crossed along one’s quest.
The first of these he calls the Valley of Knowledge, and the
following ones get worse and worse before the final one. The
second is the Valley of Repentance; the third, the Valley of Stum-
bling Blocks (the tempting world, the attracting people, the old
enemy Satan, and the inordinate Self). There follows the Valley of
Tribulations, in which it is necessary to seek protection through
dependence on God, patience in sufferings and joyous submis-
sion to His service, and after that the Thundering Valley, where
he finds that service is uninteresting and prayers mechanical
and in which he is afraid and understands the history of human
responsibility. With a light heart now he advances, only to find
himself suddenly in the Abysmal Valley, where looking into the
nature of his actions he discovers that those which seemed good
were the outcome of vainglory. He finds here the Angel of Sincer-
ity, however, who takes him to the Valley of Hymns—where the
invisible Hand of Divine Mercy opens for him the door of the
Garden of Love.
However final the experience of spiritual climax may seem,
then, it only marks the beginning of still another stage of what
will be the subject of a higher spiritual life. And if “birth” is an
appropriate word for it in view of an earlier “conception,” it is
still in the nature of a spiritual insemination, for this crowning
experience will be followed by an increasing integration into
further layers of the person’s mind and life.
Just as a seed dies so that the tree may be born, however,
the after-effect of this spiritual experience will seem to diminish
progressively, and the present stage of spiritual expansion will be
followed by one of spiritual contraction.
According to the oldest of myths, the Sumerian Innana (Baby-
lonian Ishtar) takes a human shepherd (Dumuzi or Tammuz) for
husband, and then slays him, though he is in the end reborn. So
it is with one who attains divine union at the top of the body’s
Tree of Life.
As Osiris, whose days of glorious and culture-creating king-
ship are followed by a journey in death—throughout which he is
missed and mourned, so for the individual traveller after the time
of an oceanic dissolution and an expansive visionary stage there
comes also a time of “poverty” at which spiritual experiences fade
away; yet this walking in the valley of the “shadow of death” (as
King David calls it) is at the same time an incubation.
The Jesus myth, of course, constitutes a reiteration of the
Babylonian-Egyptian rebirth mystery. As those in the Middle
Ages knew well, the birth of the inner Christ in the individual is
bound to be followed by a passion and a death before the human
metamorphosis ends in resurrection.
The illuminative stage itself has sub-stages, and thus Attar, in
his The Conference of the Birds,10 thus speaks of how the valley
of seeking is followed by the valley of love, then by the valley
of understanding, followed in turn by the valley of detachment
and the valley of unity, before the seekers come to the stages of
contraction proper: a valley of bewilderment and a valley of de-
privation and death after which lies the goal of their quest.
Though some rabbis may feel uncomfortable at the com-
parison (just as Jewish scholars may affirm that Judaism doesn’t
recognize a “dark night of the soul”) all this is coherent with the
account of the inner journey in Padmasambhava’s Bardo Todol,
widely known in the West today as The Tibetan Book of the
Dead.11 This account may be taken, at an inner level, as a map
of an after-death journey in life according to which the ultimate
experience of the “clear light of the void” or Dharmakaya is
followed by the visionary state of Sambhogakaya and lastly by a
reincarnation process that amounts to the completion of a “dia-
mond body”—in which the wisdom of non-attachment is brought
to bear on successive regions of the body and an integration is
accomplished between the subtlest spiritual perception and em-
bodied existence (Nirmanakaya).
Before this, according to The Tibetan Book of the Dead, the

individual journeys through all the worlds or lokas, as his con-
sciousness shifts from the experience of a God realm to the realm
of the titans or jealous demi-gods, and then to that of thirsty
hungry ghosts, filled with spiritual hunger but impoverished.
Next come hell states, in which the person experiences despair
along with a disintegration of mind and life, and an animal-like
condition of de-spiritualization before he can regain the human
condition and is ready to “reincarnate.” Reincarnation, for one
who has “died before dying,” is of course a “reincarnation in life,”
a return after the long bardo pilgrimage.
According to the Tibetan teachings that embody the experi-
ence of The Tibetan Book of the Dead, the downward progres-
sion through the bardos and into rebirth is echoed in a downward
progression of the prana through the nadis, in which the last
stage is the opening of the region of the coccix. The practitio-
ner at this stage invokes and surrenders to the wrathful Buddha
manifestation, visualized as Vajraki-la—with a lower body in the
form of a downward pointing ceremonial dagger that suggests
the destruction of the ego and evokes the downward flow of
prana to the tips of the toes in one whose energy system has been
fully opened.
With this ends my descriptive account of the kundalini—first
in its aspect of a kundalini-phenomenon or syndrome, then as a
kundalini-process. But have I fully answered my initial question
as to what the legendary kundalini shakti may be? A descriptive
answer, of course, fails to address the nature of the “serpent
power.”
One way of answering could be to say that our “inner ser-
pent” is no other than our more archaic (reptilian) brain-mind.
Yet it is equally valid to say that this archaic energy, in the end
is “us”—i.e. the integrity of our central nervous system when
cleansed of karmic interference; for in the end the awakening
and unification of our archaic instinctual mind will bring about
the awakening and unification of our total and threefold brain-
mind—comprising, along with our human neocortex and our

reptilian metencephalon, the emotional brain that we have inher-
ited from our mammalian ancestors.
It would seem that (mostly through the mid-brain reticular
activating system) our reptilian brain not only influences arousal
or wakefulness, but controls internal coherence—self-regula-
tion—and that our “fall from Eden” (as Koestler suggested in the
sixties) has entailed a disconnection of our reptilian brain from
the neocortex. Once our reptilian brain begins to influence the
rest of our brain and mind, conversely, we may benefit from the
wisdom of its instinctual regulation, which begins to bring order
and health into our whole body-mind system.
To think of “instinct” in terms of sex and aggression arenas
misses the point of the most important meaning of the instinc-
tive function, which is precisely organismic wisdom—the self-
regulatory function basic to life at all its levels. Since the study
of instinct in lower animals caused psychologists to use the term
less than they used to at the time of Freud’s life, the concept of
“organismic self-regulation,” more coherent with our cybernetic
age, has come into prominence in contemporary discussions of
therapy. It may be taken to be an abbreviated expression of a
somewhat wider concept involving not only self-regulation but
creativity and homeostasis; thus, more exactly, adaptive and cre-
ative self-regulation. We may envision organismic self-regulation
as the modus operandi of our whole body-mind system when the
whole of our organism controls the whole.
In contrast to the condition of full humanness, in which the
psyche has become unified through an internal transparency that
allows for omni-directional access, the ordinary human condition
may be described as one in which a part seeks to control the whole
through a pretense to representing the whole—as it insulates itself
from our psycho-physical totality.
What I am suggesting, then, is that kundalini is no other than
the long transition between the original egoic insular state to the
completeness that is the goal of all wisdom teachings. This transi-

tion is not only a mental event, however, but, as I have suggested,
a physical one, involving a subtle physiology and a progressive
transformation of the body.
It is now time that we turn our attention to the nature of this
transformation. First of all, it is necessary to ask: what are the
subtle energy channels that constitute the subtle body? And what
is it that flows in our body when we feel “energy” flowing?
I prefer to use the word “energy” (in quotation marks)
rather than to adopt the now widespread word “bio-energy”
introduced by the neo-Reichians, since I take the expression to
be mostly metaphoric. I am well aware that some may interpret
the metaphor literally, and I would not want to dissuade them,
since literal interpretation of metaphors is the best way to ben-
efit from certain teachings: while we remain detached observers
of the symbolic nature of a spiritual symbol, we fail to put it to
work, and thus poetic and phenomenologic language is from an
evocative point of view the most appropriate. From the strictly
scientific point of view, however, we might begin by consider-
ing that “energy” is something that we project onto the reality
of a world in which we only observe masses and velocities. Yet
“energy,” which is mathematically a coefficient of proportional-
ity between masses and accelerations, appeals to us as an entity
on its own since it matches our felt sense that, just as we will or
intend, there is also in nature a power and a will that is the agent
of what happens. If already at the physical and cosmological
levels there are some questions concerning the primacy of en-
ergy (in contrast to action, movement or change), the concept is
much more questionable when it is applied to the phenomenon
of perceived “body flow.”
What is it, then, that flows?
Traditional answers aside from “bio-energy” and “spiritual
energy” are “light” and an “elixir” or nectar with qualities akin to
semen or blood. We might add “electricity,” and even distinguish
between kinds of “energy” or “substance,” according to experi-

ential qualities suggesting air, fire, water or inner shifts in body
tissues as in the formation of an embryo.
Before proposing a scientific answer in terms of present-day
anatomy and physiology, let us dwell further on the phenomenol-
ogy of prana, which not only is perceived as flowing but progress-
ing along pre-established channels and orbits of a highly complex
system that might be called a flow-tree.
Contemplated as whole, this pranic system of channels might
be described as an egg-like cocoon, going a little beyond the top of
the head and the soles of the feet, and organized around a central
axis. The tree has a bilateral organization in terms of contrasting
qualities, so left and right are not properly symmetrical but also
opposites.
Though the flow of prana (Chi, Lung) in the nadis or channels
is experienced as a sort of cocoon, the whole cocoon seems to be
specially connected to the abdominal region, much as the embryo
is connected to the mother’s womb by the umbilical cord. Yet not
only in the mesenteric region, but also at other regions along the
vertical axis, there seem to be “energy nodes,” “centers,” “circles”
of spontaneous focus, so that the vertical flow takes place in a
structure resembling a bamboo shaft. From each of these “energy
centers” or “chakras” the serpentine process seems to flow most
strikingly to an associated territory; thus, just as the mesenteric
territory seems to relax as consciousness can be focused upon a
felt abdominal depth (concomitant with the relaxation of the deep
muscles of the lumber region), so also the perineal region (con-
nected to the coccix) the pelvic (connected to the sacral region)
the dorsal region (centered on the heart) the neck region (with
the neck and the lower face as associated territory) may each be
activated as well as the area of the upper face, which constitutes
a distinct unity that would seem to be subtly “innervated” from
the forehead, and lastly the area of the cranium proper, revolving
experientially around the summit of the head.
Systems differ in the location of the chakras and in the selec-

tion of chakras that constitute the primary focus of the discipline.
Yet there cannot be doubt that all those enumerated thus far are
quite distinct, as was rediscovered independently in modern times
by Wilhelm Reich, and is acknowledged by both Reichians and
bio-energetic practitioners today. In the Tibetan tradition ad-
ditional emphasis is given to the knees, the feet (thus the “lotus
feet” of the Enlightened), and the palms of the hands. Despite an
overall “subtle anatomy” to which images such as that of cocoon,
tree or bamboo may be applied, it is usually the case that one
region or another is more present to awareness in relation with
ongoing shifts in vibratory sensations.
Though attributions of color, mantra elements and deities
vary from system to system, it may be said in general that all
these are employed as supports for the body concentration, and
that the activation of given chakras, conversely, evokes specific
domains of experience, psychological processes and spiritual
qualities.
Characteristic of the physical experiences of “energy yoga”—
whatever the system—is the experience of “chakra openings,”
around which revolves the endeavor, and nothing could convey
better the experience of such openings as the image of blossom-
ing.
There is opening and more opening and further opening in an
ever widening concentric circles, so to say, as may be evoked by
the many petals of the rose. As the deep spinal muscles relax—a
feat possible to one not constrained by a “muscle armor” in the
corresponding region, a sort of filling of the body takes place
from the center to the periphery, so that a melting, or dissolving
quality at the center precedes the sense of flow into the body
periphery.
It would seem that the opening of a chakra is like a fountain
that, after filling, can overflow, and thus chakras activate each
other through vicinity. In the activation of the total pranic tree
two centers in particular constitute classical points of entry: the

frontal center, and the center variously called “the lower tan
t’ien” or the hara. Yet every chakra is a point of entry into the
energy system and a distinct innervation sector susceptible of
deep relaxation and the “activation” that the relaxation brings
about. But before the prana may come to rest at this subtlest of
centers (in the heart region) a long journey must have taken place
involving both an upward and a downward stage.
The upward stage of the spiritual journey comprising the
preliminary via purgativa and the early visionary stage corre-
sponds to an upward progression of the kundalini that culmi-
nates in the sahasrar; conversely, the “dark night of the soul”
and the more advanced tantric stages correspond to the descent
of the energy, until it eventually reaches the extremities and fills
all nadis.
As Sri Aurobindo puts it:
When the Peace is established, this higher or Divine Force from

above can descend and work in us. It descends usually first into
the head and liberates the inner mind centres, then into the heart
centre ... then into the navel and other vital centres ... then into the
sacral region and below ... It works at the same time for perfection
as well as liberation; it takes up the whole nature part by part and
deals with it, rejecting what has to be rejected, sublimating what
has to be sublimated, creating what has to be created. It integrates,
harmonizes, establishes a new rhythm in the nature.12
Satprem, reporting on Aurobindo’s “Integral Yoga,” writes of

the more advanced stages of the process:
And we approach the real problem. In this physical clearing the

seeker makes another discovery that is quite brutal: all his yogic
powers crumble. He had already conquered disease, conquered the
functioning of the body, perhaps even gravity, he was able to swal-
low poison without suffering; in short, he was the master of the
house, for his consciousness was master. But suddenly from the day
he makes up his mind to transform the body, all his powers vanish.
Diseases fall upon him as on a beginner, the organs deteriorate,
everything functions wrongly. It would seem that the body has to

forget its old false decaying functionings so as to learn everything
according to a new mode. And death interferes. Between the two
functionings, the old and the new which must replace the symbolic
organs by the true Vibration, the line which separates life from
death is often very thin—perhaps one must even be capable of cross-
ing the line and returning in order truly to triumph?13
Just as Aurobindo, adopting the vocabulary of the Vedas,

conceives the process as the work of Agni—spiritual fire—his
disciples adopting that of Indian tantrism, speak of the “descend-
ing force,” and this is useful inasmuch as the liberation (and con-
sequently, spiritualization) of the body—after the perhaps long
sought yet explosively sudden “kundalini rising”—proceeds from
head to feet. Yet there is a nearly universal confusion between this
meaning of “the descent of the force” and the immediately per-
ceptible flow of the “body energy” or prana, which is conceived
as a “subtle energy” proceeding in a non-material etheric body.
My personal view concerning this is that, however sacred and
spiritual the core of the kundalini experience may be, the prana
and chakras are physical, and the sensations of “energy flow”
(such as the streamings in Reichian therapy) are not exactly a flow,
in spite of their unquestionable subjective character as such. Yet
I don’t believe “energy flow” to entail any “subtle energy”—or
even any flow! Furthermore, I don’t believe the seat of pranic
phenomena to be an invisible or “subtle body” different from
that known to anatomists. Blasphemous as it may sound to some
who are used to equating “bioenergy” and grace, I understand
the “energy dance” within the body to be an ever-shifting tonus
dance that takes place in our muscle system in the situation of
ego-dissolution, and I believe the subtle nadis to be individually
self-aware muscle fibers or bundles thereof.
How can there be apparent flow where there is only a fluctua-
tion of tonus?
It may be explained through the concentric waves around an
object that has fallen into a body of water. It would seem that
there is a movement from the center to the periphery, yet at any

given time there is only an up and down movement at any spe-
cific point in the advancing circle of the water surface. It is the
organization of the up and down movement of individual points
that creates the centrifugal effect, much in the same way that the
programmed pattern of on and off states of the many lamps in a
billboard, or of the points in a computer’s screen, give the impres-
sion of words floating across the field, or just as the consecutive
instantaneous images of a filmstrip are organized into the flow
of animation.
The prana theory that I propose, then, is one in which the
basic phenomenon is localized vibration and the downward or
outward shifting of maximum vibration intensity (according to
the metameric organization of our body), something akin to
apparent movement. Just as the phenomenon of apparent move-
ment arises from the successive images in a film strip, we feel
that there is a flow where the anatomical fact is one of coordi-
nated volleys of nerve impulses that follow pre-established pat-
terns (according to the organization of our nervous and muscle
systems).
Perhaps clearer than many words can be the simple image
of a fish moving in the water: just as we see an antero-posterior
organization of movement along the body axis, so that a volley of
excitation seems to begin at the tip of the nose and end at the rear-
most tail, we too feel a downpour of “energy,” “light” or “grace”
when we have simply let go so completely to the spontaneous
activity of our body, that a spontaneous wave of excitation seems
to travel along it as a result of a pre-established and yet always
unpredictable pattern that responds to the situation. This is not
to say that grace is not part of the experience in which prana or
“bioenergy” becomes manifest. My point is that in spite of the
spiritual and sometimes mysterious quality of some experiences
(as in siddhi or supernatural powers), the activation of prana and
the chakras that may go along with them is physical and, more
precisely, neuro-muscular. The pranic phenomena, then, are
nothing essentially different, in my view, from verbal and motor

manifestations of possession trance; all these are liberation phe-
nomena: things that happen spontaneously when “we” are not in
control. And while it is not exactly a spiritual energy that flows in
the body or in the mind, a spiritual state is their condition; a spiri-
tual field is the context of the mental or physical movement.
On what basis do I formulate such a “kundalini theory”?
Only that of self-observation, I must confess; yet at least I can
say that I only speak after twenty-seven years of a very intense
naga life.14
Yet I can hardly call this view “my” theory or even “my” hy-
pothesis, for I have only developed an idea of Moshe Feldenkrais
that I originally rejected.
Let me just briefly say that after an intensive period of prac-
tice using a technique preparatory to tumo some twenty years ago
I began feeling a buzzing sensation in my palate, which, in turn,
developed, after some time, into a sensation of bone crackling at
the base of my skull. This was accompanied by sounds audible
enough to others that in a meditation retreat a lady once asked
me whether I would mind taking off my watch, which disturbed
her.
I consulted Moshe Feldenkrais on my bone crackling sounds,
on occasion of his first visit to Berkeley, asking his opinion of what
this could be—and I have already implicitly indicated the answer
that he gave me after he had heard them: “a tonus phenomenon,”
just as is the case with the Reichian “streamings.”
Since then the audible crackling has ceased with the down-
ward migration of the vibratory focus, while the sensation of
internal ticking or dripping has increased immensely—much
as the minimal excursions of the water on a beach can increase
until they become enormous waves, or as in the case of the ever
increasing contractions of labor.
I have, thus, had much occasion to observe how this or that
opening and emerging pathway in my felt “energy body” corre-
sponded to my anatomy, despite the fact that subjective sensations
translate imaginatively into patterns not identical but rather akin

to topological transformations of those seen by our eyes.
Opening of the nadis has proceeded from above toward the
soles of the feet, the palms of the hands and, it would seem, to the
tips of the teeth, evoking at times a body image in which to the
fanged snake are superimposed attributes of the lion or tiger.
In addition to ascertaining through observation the muscular
origin of the vibratory phenomenon, by the way, I have had occa-
sion to notice how the patterns of energy flow at different stages
in what has felt like an ongoing metamorphosis have evoked
many different animals, and not only those traditionally associ-
ated with the chakras.
While the snake, which conveys the archaic spirituality of
simple reptilian awareness, is uniquely evocative of both the
flow in the body in any form and the subtlety of a life conducted
with instinctual wisdom, different animals seem to evoke specific
qualities in the unfolding of our own inner animal.
The association of an animal quality to advanced stages of
spiritual development contradict the dualistic opposition of these
in exoteric religiosity and was undoubtedly known to totemistic
cultures, just as it is in present-day shamanism. We encounter it
in the remains of Babylonian and Egyptian religions, where it is
conveyed by the animal features in the representations of divine
beings, and is expressed in the Indian tradition through the con-
ception of animals that are vehicles or companions to different
gods (as the Garuda to Vishnu or the Eagle to Zeus and Apollo),
alternative articulations of the natural experience of the body in
transformation.
Birds of prey such as the eagle, vulture and falcon are, like
snakes and tigers, allies of the shaman, and the mythological
motif of the eagle as enemy of the snake should not obscure
that they are emblematic of the early and late stages of self-same
being. While at the beginning of the tantric journey the vertical
energy-flow, suggestive of the snake, is more prominent, later in
the individual’s development the lateral expansion of the subtle
body comes increasingly into awareness, and that earlier body-

experience seems to become a part of the more complex configu-
ration evoked by the bird, with its wings and claws. The Garuda
eating the snake, like the old Mexican motif of an eagle with a
snake in its talons are mainly statements about transformation,
and just as the snake is an appropriate symbol for the beginning of
guidance, the bird of prey is evocative of completion—not only in
virtue of its association with heaven but its suitability in reference
to specific features of energy flow, which suggest wings through
the deep relaxation of scapular muscles, and not only claws but a
beak, as prana expands toward a sort of “egg-breaking point” in
the subtle channels of the nose region.
Though serpent, eagle and feline are the most characteristic
animals in shamanism, it is the dragon that constitutes the most
typical reference to the hidden power of the liberated organism,
besides the snake. A composite of serpent, fish, tiger and bird,
the dragon (like the phoenix and the sphinx) has been created by
the human mind as an unequivocal reference to the “kundalini”
realm.
Though I know the Tibetan teachings on zalung and tigle
enough to understand that I have not come to the completion
of the inner alchemy, another feature of my personal experience
coincides with the Taoist observation that there comes a time
when chi penetrates the bones. I think I can explain this too; only
that, just as I don’t believe the chakras and nadis to reside in an
etheric body, I don’t believe that the chi penetrates to the bone
marrow as the pre-scientific tradition maintains. It is clear to me,
rather, that an ever increasing bone awareness can be explained
from an “awakening” of deep muscle layers and muscle insertions
in the periosteum.
When I first became part of an esoteric school, in my twen-
ties, I was told that in our spiritual adventure our lance would
have to penetrate first the dragon’s skin, next its flesh, and last
its bones. During a long time I only understood this as only an
allusion to how an intellectual understanding deepened into
emotional understanding and psychosomatic penetration, but

today it seems to me that, as the somatic process itself deepens,
a skeletal awareness arises, through which it becomes possible to
sense exactly, for instance, the shape of the pelvis or the lateral
projection of the neck vertebrae.
Just as in shamanism the skeleton is not only a symbol of
death but of an awareness that has penetrated “to the bones,” I
see the same double reference in the myth of Quetzalcoatl—the
Plumed Serpent who brought civilization to ancient Mexico.
According to his legend this earliest king and priest immolated
himself by plunging into a volcano, and (under the dog form of
Xolotl) not only descended into hell but had to obtain from the
Lord of Death the bones of the ancestors before he could give
birth to the sun and then become the planet Venus. The image
below, showing Xolotl as he gives birth to the sun may be an
appropriate end for this discussion since, not having come to
the experience, I can only point out the agreement of the image
from the Codex Borgia with Tibetan teaching on how, in the end,
the subtlest and undying consciousness arises together with the
concentration of the prana in the heart.
Illustration 15
Chapter Four
The Interface
Between Meditation and
Psychotherapy
I. Modern and Ancient Visions of Neurosis
When his book, Psychotherapy East and West,1 appeared in 1961,

Alan Watts remarked that “if we look deeply into such ways of
life as Buddhism and Taoism, Vedanta and Yoga, we do not find
either philosophy or religion as these are understood in the West.
We find something more nearly resembling psychotherapy.” Con-
versely, Jacob Needleman in The New Religions2 used this broad
expression in a way encompassing characteristic therapeutic de-
velopments of the “New Age.”
It is true that certain statements or actions are better des-
ignated either as “therapeutic” or “spiritual” and yet it cannot
be denied that both the spiritual endeavor and the therapeutic
are concerned with the self-same ultimate goal of removing the
obscuration of the human ego, so that the full expression of the
person’s potentialities may unfold.
I don’t use the word “ego” here in the meaning of ego-
psychology, but as is commonly used in both the popular and the
63
transpersonal languages in which it is usually viewed as the coun-

terpart of the Self or Being. I don’t make a distinction between
calling this pain-perpetuating system of conditioned responses
“neurosis,” “samsara,” “sinfulness,” “fallenness” or “conscious-
ness degradation.”
Two systems may be distinguished within our body/mind:
the total system, and a sub-system that asserts its separateness
through consciousness barriers. The latter—call it ego, neurotic
self or what you will—is a sort of mind-parasite that absorbs our
life-energy and limits the expression of our potential.
Traditional spirituality has pointed to “ignorance,” at the core
of consciousness degradation, and viewed ignorance (avidya) as
a darkening and confusion of the mind that renders it unable
to sustain spiritual consciousness. Rather than interesting itself
in the loss of the gnostic capacity of the mind, psychotherapy
has addressed consciousness degradation in terms of the loss or
distortion of a more worldly kind of awareness: the awareness
of the obvious and the here and now, which includes the aware-
ness of sensate and emotional, of our thoughts and of what we
are doing with our life. Yet both traditions address only different
levels of the consciousness issue, and coincide in seeing a loss of
consciousness as a major factor in suffering.
Another pillar in the dysfunctional condition of the mind
may be conceived as an over-desiring or excessive dependence
on the satisfaction of desires. Buddhism calls this tanha, usually
translated as craving, or sometimes simply as “desire.”
Along with the obscuration of the subtle or contempla-
tive mind and interference with self-experience and self-un-
derstanding, we may say that neurosis is also under the rule
of deficiency-motivation. It may be argued that it is usually of
deficiency-motivation that therapists speak when they use the
word “libido,” and I prefer to distinguish the libido of our over-
desiring, passionate, sinful, or sick nature from the abundance of
Eros. While eros (the life force or instinct) is abundance, libido,
The Interface Between Meditation and Psychotherapy 65
the degraded form of eros, is anti-instinctual and constitutes the

material out of which is fashioned the straight jacket in which
instinct is contained.
Over-desiring corresponds to what in psychoanalytic lan-
guage is called orality, and generally speaking, it may be said that
we are fixated on an oral attitude that was healthy during the ear-
liest part of our life and now has become an obsolete immaturity
and a source of pain.
It has been a merit of psychotherapy to elucidate how the
fixation on the condition of “oral” attachment has become
established as an alarm reaction to frustration in early life.
Oral greed in the adult is—according to Freud, Abraham et
al.—the result of frustration of oral impulses in the past. More
specifically, over-desiring is seen to echo the frustration of our
yearning for mother’s breast during infancy. Yet insight into
oral-receptiveness has not prevented a hedonistic bias in modern
psychotherapy, which I think has resulted from the traditional
emphasis on austerity.
To speak of desire in its broadest sense is to speak of both
desire and counter-desire; that is to say: desire and aversion. And
to say that in the endarkened condition there is slavery to both
desire and aversion may be re-worded into saying that we are
not only excessively oral-receptive, but fixated in an excessively
frustrated and angry “oral-aggressive” attitude: it is as if the biting
response that followed our sucking response in infancy had per-
sisted too much, turning into our present biting attitude toward
others, ourselves and even Heaven; as if in our present hateful-
ness we were seeking to get even for our original love-frustration
through an excessive active reaching-out that psychoanalysis has
called “cannibalistic.”
Buddhism speaks of a triad of core factors in the endarkened
condition, to which it refers as “the three poisons”: greed, aver-
sion and ignorance. This, in turn, may be reworded by stating
that at the core of neurosis there is an interplay of desire and
aversion (“love” and hate) in the field of an active unconscious-

ness—a lowering of consciousness that seems to involve the
preference for the status quo through attachment to a meager
level of satisfaction (in view of an avoidance of the possibility of
greater dissatisfaction).
The view of modern psychology is also congruent with the
view of the old traditions in the recognition that mind-deterio-
ration is not a cognitive and emotional process alone. The fall is
“karmic,” and to some extent hereditary. The world of the mind,
like that of nature, operates according to strict causality, and in
the causal chain of events the weight of the past impinges on the
present.
Traditional spirituality has emphasized the karma of earlier
and forgotten lifetimes. The therapeutic tradition, conversely,
emphasizes the equally forgotten or unconscious impingement
of the early environment on the developing child. I wonder how
much of what traditionally has been ascribed to the unknown
pre-individual past may correspond to the equally unknown
forgotten past of childhood, in the course of which the child
psyche is formed, in the context of relationship to the mind of
its parents.
Of course, psychotherapy mostly echoes the traditional
recognition that there is a going from here to there: a healing
process. From the point of view of conditioning, the healing of
neurosis needs to involve a measure of transcendence of (or a
relative freedom vis-a-vis) the body: a death to the past. From the
point of view of emotion, the way may be characterized as a shift
from greed and need, to love—i.e., from deficiency to abundance
motivation. Psychotherapy and the wisdom traditions alike,
however, have stressed the pursuit of consciousness: a recovery
of physical, emotional and cognitive awareness, amounting to
a recovery of the capacity to experience. I imagine that at least
some therapists today would be open to the notion that the heal-
ing process may culminate in the healing of the subtler cognition
that makes spiritual awareness (gnosis or wisdom) possible.
The old mystery of death/re-birth, known to the initiates of

all traditions, is being rediscovered today as it becomes increas-
ingly clear that the most successful therapy involves an ego-death
process (brought about through insight) that makes possible the
ever-widening unfolding of healthy life.
Another aspect that the old traditions and therapy are in
agreement about is the critical role of the helping relationship in
personal development. What we today call therapeutic has been
part of the role of teachers or priests in various traditions, though
teacher-student interactions have occurred only in an oral-aural
domain that has been scarcely documented. Zalman Schachter
has devoted a book to the subject3 in the Hassidic tradition, and
it is possible to form some idea of how Sufi masters dealt with
some well known human quirks through books such as Shah’s
Thinkers of the East.4
With these considerations as background, I now turn to the
more specific subject announced through this chapter’s title: the
interface between meditation and psychotherapy.
Surely, meditation has come to be the most important
method of transpersonal psychology, and meditation practitio-
ners frequently seek psychotherapeutic help, at least at some
point in their development—but where, in what, or how do
meditation and psychotherapy meet? Asking about the interface
between meditation and psychotherapy means understanding
what processes are common to both. By extension, it may involve
contributing to a general or unified theory of meditation and
psychotherapy.
I will be carrying out the inquiry through an application
to psychotherapy of such concepts as have emerged from my
reflections concerning meditation, for the converse is less illumi-
nating: to look at meditation in terms of the processes involved
in psychotherapy soon reveals that the more unique aspects of
psychotherapy are intrinsically interpersonal.
Thus meditation involves awareness practice, and awareness
of the here and now naturally leading to insight—both worldly
and, possibly, even metaphysical. Though nobody can be aware

for another—still one person’s self-awareness and his or her intu-
ition of another may combine into an ability to assist the develop-
ment of another’s awareness and insight. Self-awareness and self-
knowledge, which are functions of a person’s inner development,
seem to be endowed with a certain “infectiousness”; however,
this is one of the factors operating in therapeutic groups, and is
ever more striking in the case of the specially wise individuals
who can be enlightening mirrors to others with a minimum of
words, seemingly through presence alone.
The same is true of the individual’s development of healthy
love of self—without which compassion becomes hypocritical
and no real path is possible. Whatever development in the love of
self and others may come from traditional spiritual practice and
whatever help may arise from psychological insight, being in rela-
tion to a loving person is always of help, and sometimes the only
way out of “walking in circles.” Just as a fortunate person learns
to accept and value his/her self under the protective umbrella of
mother’s love, one who has been devoured by a hateful ego may
be rescued in adult life through the experience of relating to a
truly benevolent guide.
As I will be arguing, an important aspect of therapy is the
restoration of spontaneity, and here too, the presence of another
may induce in the individual a greater measure in surrender than
could be possible in isolation. To go beyond his present limits a
person may not only need to be reassured and cared for, but also
the stimulus of a contagion in inner freedom may come about
through a subtle modeling.
All this may be summarized as “the magic of the other,” and
to this is added, in the helping relationship, a factor of know-how,
comprising professional methods and strategies. Furthermore,
there is in the healing relationship a factor of creativity and inspi-
ration on the part of the therapist or guide which, like the factor
of interpersonal contagion, cannot be reduced to such notions as
I have elaborated upon while theorizing on meditation.
After this proviso, then, I turn to a consideration of what in

psychotherapy can be understood in terms similar to those of
meditation.
I have always been keenly aware of how psychotherapy is
always more than what it purports to be. Real psychotherapy is
eminently an art, and it always does more than what is explicit in
the mind of its practitioners. Just as life may contain our theories
and not be exhausted by them, psychotherapy, I think, vastly tran-
scends the theories of psychotherapists. In view of the situation it
seems most appropriate to inquire into how psychotherapy may
appear in light of the concepts about the path of transformation,
concepts that seem congruent with practices that have proved
their efficacy across the centuries.
II. Psychotherapy in Light of

the Six Components of Meditation
1) Mindfulness and creative imagination
As I turn to a consideration of psychotherapy in light of the

proposed model of meditation, I begin with the issue of attention.
Meditation, we saw, involves attention—not only when we pay
attention to the contents of the mind in the here and now (as in
vipassana), but where we focus our attention on symbols, colors,
forms or concepts evocative of ultimate reality and sacredness.
It is clear to which end of the mindfulness/God-mindedness
dimension psychotherapy gravitates. Increasingly, throughout
its history, psychotherapy has involved the recognition of the
healing potential of awareness. While Freudian insight involved
mostly the recovery of full awareness of the past and awareness
of what the person is doing in his life of relationships, its interest
shifted more and more to an awareness of the therapeutic (trans-
ferential) relationship, and to a consideration of the relevance of
non-verbal awareness. Along with these, there developed (first
in Gestalt therapy and then more generally) an appreciation for

the healing virtue of awareness in itself, beyond specific con-
tents. The pervasiveness of body therapies and the introduction
of bio-feedback as complements to verbal therapies reflect the
importance given to simple awareness by those who help others
to grow emotionally; it may be said that without the grounding
of the sensate here and now, it is easy to fantasize instead of ac-
knowledging one’s true emotional reality.
Yet while both mindfulness and God-mindedness are impor-
tant in giving an account of meditation experience, it is not so in
the field of psychotherapy, in which the increasing recognition of
the importance of awareness has not been matched by comparable
consensus on the therapeutic implications of God-mindedness. In
spite of the transpersonal tendency and the spiritualization of
psychotherapy, spiritual experience in our secular therapeutic
tradition has been under-played, both as a therapeutic factor and
as an aspect of therapeutic unfolding.
Religiosity declined in the modern world when the strictures
of the patriarchal church inhibited mysticism; and when tran-
scending authoritarianism involved throwing out the baby (i.e.
God-mindedness) with the bath water.
Yet not only are religious experiences important to healing;
a religious view can also make a difference, and should not be
incompatible with self-knowledge or behavior modification. It is
not the same for the individual to regard himself as one seeking
relief from pain and help from another, or to understand his pain
as something that exists in the context of a condition of obscura-
tion and a estrangement from reality, and who sees himself in a
journey to a sacred goal.
Surely the Christian understanding became so contaminated
that we now need to put the old wine into new barrels, and if
we look for God-mindedness in psychotherapy, we find it, for
instance, in the Jungian approach; for under the notion of arche-
types Jung may be said to have smuggled religion into the West
under scientific garb.
An old rabbi used to advise filling one’s head with God as

a preparation toward an eventual experience of the divine, and
it may be similarly said that filling one’s head with the lives of
the Greek gods or with alchemical symbolism (on occasion of
interpretation of one’s dreams) likewise contributes to eventual
experiences in the domain thus symbolized. Yet the Jungian pro-
cess is often all too detached and intellectual, and its power to
bring sacredness into the therapeutic process rather limited when
compared to traditional spiritual contexts. The same might be
said of psycho-synthesis or other work with archetypal imagery:
though archetypes are essentially sacred symbols or symbols of
sacredness, a desacralizing scientific distance is implied in their
very conception as “organs of the psyche’s collective uncon-
scious.” Bringing God-mindedness to psychotherapy will neces-
sarily mean, above all, bringing sacredness into the person’s life
and path, and for one with a faith, nothing could be better than
the attempt to “remember” God. Not only can this be compat-
ible with the rest of the therapeutic endeavor, but the individual’s
sense of the divine will always add something to his horizon,
widening somewhat the context of whatever the situation was
without it.
While traditional contributions to God-mindedness are per-
fectly compatible as complements to psychotherapy, it is also
true that they are not so congruent with the intellectual climate
of our secular world. It is easier to engender the sense of the
divine in our minds if we have the support of faith, and faith is
harder to sustain in our increasingly materialistic contemporary
culture. Perhaps it would behoove us to adopt the attitude of
some practitioners in Tibetan Buddhism who know quite well
the extraordinary powers of the Gods and yet recognize that
they are creations of the mind. But “creation” here is a com-
pletely different matter from imagination; for imagination only
serves as a support for such potential of the human mind, which
Corbin, in his account of Ibn ’Arabi, calls “creative imagina-
tion.”
Idries Shah used the expression “constructive conception”

for ways of viewing, the truth of which lies not in an earlier state
of affairs but in the result of their being embraced. Thus in the
teaching tale of Mushkil Gusha, a wood-cutter is told by a voice
to close his eyes and climb certain steps before him. He is standing
alone in a forest, and knows very well that there are no such steps;
yet as he climbs, the steps arise under his feet and he finds him-
self in a completely different place—from which he then returns
enriched. So it is in our inner life: when we assume something to
be the case, this makes a difference in our experience and in the
unfolding of events. Such is the truth of oracles, too, which work
for us when we take them to be true.
But aside from simple faith (and considerations on the reality
of sacralization beyond any particular form or belief), I think the
most powerful resource toward God-mindedness today may be—
as it was in shamanistic cultures—music—or rather, music when
intentionally used as a form of devotion, as is further explained
in Chapter 7.
2) Spontaneity and mental discipline in psychotherapy
I now turn to a consideration of the therapeutic relevance of

what I have called the stop/go dimension of meditation and of
the mind.
It is apparent from the outset that here again psychotherapy
capitalizes on one end of the continuum, for the issue of impulse
liberation is much more apparent in it than that of mind-control.
Since Freud, to speak of psychotherapy has been more or
less equivalent to speaking of “a talking cure”—i.e., a healing
process mediated by verbal communication; also, the gist of such
communication therapy has been, from the very beginning, an
attempt to let go of conditioned and social limitations. As the
discipline matured, it became increasingly conscious of its being
a “path of authenticity.”
It is of interest to note that the original impulse to the devel-

opment of psychotherapy in the modern world came from Mes-
mer, since Freud’s first interest was in hypnosis. There was more
to Mesmer’s cures than hypnotic trance, however, for these came
about through an invitation to surrender to a healing force. No
matter how inconvenient, such surrender served as an occasion
for the individual’s self-healing potential to come into operation.
It was from the flow of spontaneous ideation in hypnosis that
Freud derived the technique of free-association that—itself an
implicit expression of the principle of spontaneity—constituted
the background of psychoanalytic developments.
After Freud, the cultivation of spontaneity may be said to
have been carried forward on two fronts. Moreno describes
psycho-synthesis as a deliberate education in spontaneity, and
Reich went a step beyond Freud in his belief of the full libera-
tion of instinct and in his emphasis on sexual liberation. Later
still came Gestalt and other existential therapies, along with the
more radical notion of therapy that is accomplished through
genuineness and a willingness to surrender to inner processes,
trusting their intrinsic wisdom rather than attempting to control
them.
From an important point of view, then, psychotherapy may
be regarded as an assisted liberation from the barriers of the ego
through yielding to “organismic” self-regulation, and it seems
valid, then, to say that psychotherapy has, throughout its his-
tory, healed many of its clients through the liberation of their
spontaneity.
While in the field of meditation it is clear that both learning
to let go and learning to develop a disciplined and one-pointed
calm are prominent spiritual practices, in the realm of therapy
the Dionysian element is much more prominent than the Apol-
lonian. While “Peace of Mind” is a widely acknowledged goal of
mental health, its formulation hardly takes into account anything
comparable to the “mental control” involved in the cultivation
of one-pointedness. Except for an appreciation of relaxation as

an antidote for stress, the idea of impulse-control as a part of
therapy seems to have gone out of the window along with God-
mindedness in our days of modern secularism and post-Victorian
instinctual liberation.
Since the modern West discovered the right and freedom
to seek one’s happiness, it has—not without reason—disdained
preachers of virtue. Nietzsche, the greatest advocate of the Dio-
nysian spirit in the modern world, preached against preachers
of “virtue,” proclaiming them to be preachers of comfort in dis-
guise. Unfortunately, however, “virtue” itself has been denigrated
after their fall, as if suspected to be nothing other than a tool of
authoritarian manipulation. Yet this has been another case of
throwing away a value along with its falsification, for “virtue”—
i.e., the struggle against the ego in the life of relationships—has
been endorsed by the greatest sages and effectively pursued as an
aspect of the path to the realized condition. Ethical practice was
the preventive psychotherapy of pre-modern times, and today
psychotherapy might be likened to a “lazy man’s way to virtue”:
a way to improve relationships and choices “without really try-
ing.” Not that there is no effort in it (aside from monetary cost)
but the explicit pursuit now is mostly one of insight, and it is
insight that is offered as a means to decreasing suffering—while
behavioral change is expected to follow spontaneously from self-
understanding.
Through insight there comes about healing, indeed (and “vir-
tue” results from a sort of self-digestion of ego in consequence
of insight into the destructiveness of our neurotic needs); I think
that the hedonistic bias of psychotherapy has resulted in an insuf-
ficient understanding of self-control as an aspect of health and the
healing process. In spite of its eclectic and integrative attitude,
psychotherapy has failed to integrate its Apollonian and Diony-
sian means, values and perspectives.
While the spiritual traditions have emphasized working on
oneself on the process of transformative healing by striving for
right action and wisdom, in a consumer society that doesn’t trust

the message of old religions, psychotherapy emphasizes what
help may be obtained by paying a guide and a coach, and the
spiritual inertia that is easily encouraged by the “medical model”
is likely to become a trap if there is not a proper understand-
ing of ego-transcendence as an aspect of the therapeutic task.
Voluntary-inhibition of egoic manifestations is an implicit aspect
of behavior and cognitive therapy, however, and also of brief and
family systems therapy, and I think that it may be an increasingly
significant item in the therapist’s prescription repertoire.
Summing up: a wise integrative therapy today would be one
which is appreciative of both surrender to the pleasure principle
and the austerity of ego-frustration; for the ego (or karmic iden-
tity) burns in the austerity of self-discipline just as it burns in the
austerity of meditation.
3) Love and non-attachment
Finally, I turn to the affective dimension of meditation and of

the mind, concerning which it is immediately apparent that just
as psycho-pathology involves a loss of awareness and a loss of
spontaneity, it involves a loss in the ability to love.
Love does not only affect the quality of interpersonal rela-
tionships, but also the motivation to work—since work is always
an act of love for self or other—and, since the psychoanalytic
conception of health as genital libido, therapies have mostly
included love in their statement of intent. Freud is often quoted,
indeed, for his definition of psychoanalysis as a means to the re-
covery of the ability to love and work. After him, it was specially
Erich Fromm’s view of the productive person that emphasized
the ability to love self and other.
And yet neither the Freudian instinct theory nor the behav-
iorist learning theory are suitable to a discussion of love (except
through some tour de force or another), and “love” is a word that
has been generally avoided in psychological discourse—which in
its scientific aspiration has tended to stay away from the subjec-
tive and eschew the pre-scientific, preferring to talk about such
things as “positive emotional reinforcement” and “sublimated
erotic impulses.”
Even in the field of practical psychotherapy, where it should
be obvious that the restoration of health implies the recovery of
the person’s ability to love, the issue has been obscured by the
relatively recent concern of therapy with the healing of aggres-
sion. True as it may be that people need to know and accept their
anger before transcending the childish ambivalence that is part
of the neurotic condition, I think that the theory and practice of
psychotherapy would gain from an explicit acknowledgment of
love as an aspect of health and healing inseparable from aware-
ness and spontaneity.
Yet psychotherapy has greatly added to what spiritual tradi-
tions have been able to offer by way of assisting people to become
less hateful. Specialists in the realm of dynamic therapy as well
as their patients are well aware of how love conflicts with resent-
ment and is interfered by vindictiveness, and how these, in turn,
are the residues of early wounds.
Dissolving the defensiveness that was adopted in the face of
early pain can be greatly assisted through insight, and this is not
precisely the approach meant by Buddha in his metaphors of the
arrow and of the fire. (When you are wounded, you don’t ask
who shot the arrow nor why it was shot, he pointed out, but
endeavor to pull it out. When there is fire, too, you don’t waste
time investigating who started it.)
Meditation is like that: it seeks to relinquish karma “here and
now” through a transient neutrality that permits a sort of “dy-
ing to the past.” Therapy, by contrast, steps forward to meet the
haunting past that wants to make itself present in the now, like a
hungry ghost that needs to be taken care of. It takes the position
that something needs to be taken care of, and specializes, so to
say, in the belated digestion of the past—implicitly or explicitly
assuming that something needs to be learned in the process.
“ Purification” in the therapeutic process occurs not through some

intentional relinquishment then, but through the inner digestive
juices of psychological understanding.
A therapeutic approach that offers special interest in this
discussion not only because of its orientation to love but through
some strategical contributions (and in view of its powerful thera-
peutic impact) is Hoffman’s Quadrinity Process, to which I have
devoted a chapter in The End of Patriarchy.5
Alice Miller6 has discussed how the forgiveness of parents
is intrinsic to the psychoanalytic cure, and how the process of
understanding one’s life history and the predicament of one’s
parents is, in the best cases, seen as preparatory to compassion
and forgiveness. This seems to arise sometimes by its own accord
when the individual has made enough therapeutic progress, but
not reliably so. In view of this focus on forgiving one’s parents, I
believe Hoffman’s approach constitutes a major contribution to
a person’s recovery of the ability to love.
Love exists in the fundamental categories of self-love, love
of others, and love of the divine (the Highest, Life, Truth, The
Human Prototype, Mother Nature or the transcendent Ground,
etc.). Love of others began with the love of parents; and loving
oneself entails becoming like a mother toward ourselves, con-
cerned with our well being and happiness, and taking pleasure in
our pleasure. To love the divine may or may not be directed to
an anthropomorphic representation of God or an idea of God as
Person. It may be expressed as love of life or of justice. It may be
clothed in a love of art, or it may manifest as a seeking of a higher
truth, or simply in striving for self-improvement.
I suppose most contemporary psychoanalysts regard God
a “transitional object” (like a teddy bear) to the love of others
(tellingly called “object love”!). Be it as it may, I think loving
divine perfection is easier than loving imperfect humans, and I
think the exercising of love in devotion may be to loving people
a transition comparable to what the practice of ego-suspension
in meditation is to ego-less behavior in the world. It seems that
love needs to be exercised, even if we are too angry at ourselves

and the world to love any particular beings, and the devotional
situation (which is one of loving the source of love), constitutes
a way to exercise love in itself.
If I am correct in this view, it would behoove therapists to
further their client’s devotional expression rather than interpret-
ing it one-sidedly as an escape from the world and fearing it as
potential interference or competition.
Practicing love of the divine cannot of course be separated
from simple concentration on the divine through contemplation
or visualization practices, and also in this case it is enough for
therapists to understand the therapeutic relevance of the issue and
refer their patients to the appropriate specialists and resources.
Though I will be saying more in the chapter specially devoted
to music as meditation, let me just suggest that music is as impor-
tant as it is to us mainly because, without our explicit knowledge,
it stimulates in us various nuances of transpersonal loving. When
music listening is turned into a conscious exercise in love through
empathic listening, singing or playing, the result is likely to be
rewarding enough to repeat and perhaps lead to an enrichment
of both music listening and emotional life.
Of course, self-love is one of the expressions of love, and we
may say that when love is present, it shines evenly over self and
other. The idea of liberation of instinct from the strictures of so-
cial conditioning and character has been a generalized feature of
modern therapies since Reich, and we may re-contextualize such
liberation into the framework of a shift from self-rejection and
self-hate to self-acceptance and self-love.
While in the realm of spiritual disciplines the cultivation of
non-attachment has been as prominent as that of devotion, and
austerity as prominent as compassion, again in regard to the
domain of therapy the issue of love has definitely been in the
foreground, while that of non-attachment has been relatively
neglected.
Not only in meditation can the ego burn in tapas (austerity),

however, but there opens up before the person the opportunity
of life itself as a field in which the struggle toward the undoing of
the ego may be pursued. A necessary struggle this is, that requires
austerity to sustain egoic frustration and to inhibit the temptation
of neurotic needs for the sake of re-learning.
Gurdjieff, a master in ego-confrontation, spoke of “The
Work” as “conscious-suffering,” and also Perls—who resembled
Gurdjieff as confrontator and awakener—was keenly aware of
the need to open up to pain as also to find a healthy attitude be-
fore it. How he thought and how he felt about the “niceness” of
professional therapists at the time is echoed in Resnik’s “chicken
soup is poison,” which became a well known Gestalt slogan.
“To the sick man sweet tastes bitter,” wrote Al Ghazzali, and
this might be translated into saying that for the ego there is frus-
tration rather than pleasure in those things that are sweet to the
healthy self. To the extent that this is so, a hedonistically biased
approach could not work. True as it is that truth can set us free of
suffering, then, truth does not come without some suffering. On
the way to paradise, there seems to be no alternative to a time in
purgatory if not in hell. In such a journey, non-attachment is the
vehicle of choice, while self-comfort and fearful self-protective-
ness are hindrances.
At a round-table that followed upon Dr. Grof ’s opening
address at the 1982 meeting of the ITA in Bombay, Dr. Frances
Vaughan, then president of the Transpersonal Association asked
me what was my view of a “healthy spiritual development.” I
thought this an all-too-American question that amounted to
asking for a sanitized “death and resurrection in the comfort
of your own home,” and I said something to the effect that the
transpersonal movement has not been exempt of the hedonistic
bias characteristic of humanistic psychology en general, and that
this has reflected in an imbalance between the pursuit of ecstasy
and the willingness to deal with the pain of psycho-dynamic
inquiry. A spirituality in which there is no sufficient openness to

pain easily becomes an escape from life, with its toil, its discipline,
its lingering wounds of the past, and the frustration of present
imperfections.
The development of consciousness is not a straight ladder
to heaven, as an intellectual might want to depict it; I argued:
growth is cyclic, a pulsating process better represented by a spiral
than by a straight line, in which the way up is at the same time the
way down. And psychotherapy cannot fail to be part of a quest in
which the person needs to be a kind of hero willing to embrace
pain for the sake of the quest’s goal. The vocation to grow (and
to eventually blossom into the fullness of our consciousness and
potential) is inseparable from our nature, and an excessive con-
cern for comfort or attachment to the self-image is not conducive
to the best results.
Because many today—therapists included—are inclined to
see asceticism as the expression of a pathological turning against
the self, it may be well to emphasize both tapas and moral dis-
cipline as universally acknowledged aspects of human develop-
ment, and suggest that much is to be expected of the association
between behavior modification and an ennea-type informed
cognitivism.
When I started theorizing about meditation, I conceived
a complementarity between love and non-attachment, yet in
the process of developing my ideas in light of the enneagram
I have thought it is more appropriate to use the words “com-
passion” and “austerity.” Compassion is the persistence of love
in spite of pain, austerity involves the non-avoidance of pain
and non-pursuit of pleasure in the attempt to transcend desire/
aversion.
While I am not undertaking to elaborate further on how psy-
chotherapy may look from the point of view of non-attachment,
I want, least, to say something of how non-attachment loomed
large in the work of the most notable of modern Dionysians—
and also one of the most powerful of therapists: Fritz Perls.
A person weeping over the reminiscence of some childhood

suffering may scarcely need words to convey an invitation to a
more healthy attitude in face of the painful memory. Perls’ gaze,
like that of Gurdjieff, was of the kind more generally associated to
the figure of Bodhidharma: a gaze at the same time piercing and
non-involved, which to many seemed to convey a “so what” in
face of the childishness of neurotic problems. “So what? Do you
want to hold on to that forever? Do you want to mourn forever
over spilled milk?”
I have frequently talked about the great treasure that was the
transmission of Fritz’s detachment, the ability to not be involved
in the “games people play.” Being a combination of creative indif-
ference and self-support, I at first called it his “so whatness.”
Since I see growth as inseparable from outgrowing, and do
not think that there can be outgrowing without detachment, I
of course believe that an enrichment of psychotherapy in light
of a conscious consideration of the non-attachment issue would
be desirable, and in the two chapters following this one—
“Interpersonal Meditation” and “Free Association in a Medita-
tive Context/A Therapeutic and Educational Proposal”—I offer
a sample of my own contribution to the field.
4) The therapeutic relevance of metaphysical insight
To discuss the aspects of meditation mapped by the inner

triangle of the enneagram amounts to discussing that deep medi-
tative realization that cannot be properly called meditation since
it constitutes the unveiling of a pre-existing condition, an under-
lying or buried consciousness. Some may want to call it the truth
of Being, others, the truth of Voidness, or our true identity: the
essence of our consciousness.
It may seem absurd to ask how enlightenment can help
psychotherapy, for it seems that the question should be turned
around. Yet the way in which psychotherapy can help enlight-
enment is something that I have already been addressing while
speaking of the restoration of awareness, spontaneity and love,

and something remains to be said as to how an “enlightened
world view” can help along the way.
After explicitly stating that, indeed, our way of seeing things
can influence our progress, I hasten to clarify that I have no inten-
tion of recommending that therapists seek to become teachers of
spiritual philosophy; for wisdom is something to be pursued for
itself rather than for professional achievement, and it is enough,
I think, that we trust that our understanding will spontaneously
help others, and that we can orient others to the relevant books
and experts.
Whatever their traditional language, it is the same vision that
is transmitted by all the wisdom traditions. It is well to bear in
mind, however, that what some call the “truth of the self ” and
others “the truth of no-self ” or the “realization of the essence of
mind” constitutes “metaphysical” (cosmologic-anthropologic-
spiritual) insight that not only illuminates meditation but carries
the potential of eclipsing all egoic problems—which are, after all,
(the sapiential traditions agree) the consequences or complica-
tions of spiritual obscuration.
Psychotherapy today doesn’t have anything like a transfor-
mative teaching to offer in its present stage of development, so
I think it behooves contemporary professionals to take into ac-
count the potential of such mental understanding and the avail-
ability of wisdom teachings in the different cultures.7
III. Psychotherapy and the Kundalini Process
The conception of “kundalini” that I have proposed—a

heightened mode of operation of organismic function made pos-
sible through the suspension of the ego—amounts to a definition
of health. The full unfolding of the kundalini shakti in the mythi-
cal 72,000 nadis is simply the physical aspect enlightenment,
which intrinsically encompasses mental health. And if the physi-

cal process of transformation that is part of human metamorpho-
sis involves a progressive liberation of the subtle spontaneity of
the body at rest, it must be part of psychotherapy—to the extent
that also therapy aims at the spontaneity of feelings, and, more
generally, of the mind.
If as I have argued, psychotherapy stresses the cultivation
of spontaneity, it is only natural that the condition of height-
ened spontaneity that it promotes may be “stepped up,” so to
say, to the “kundalini level.” In other words, it is only natural
for psychotherapy to lead to a kundalini arousal—that point in
the psycho-spiritual transformation process at which the body
begins to undergo that “energetic liberation” that, as we know,
seems to constitute a more or less hidden underside of spiritual
growth—known to entrain in turn additional spiritual and mental
phenomena.
In telling about instances in which the pranic component of
kundalini is so apparent, I don’t want to narrow the subject to
instances in which automatic movement or pranic phenomena
come to the foreground, for perhaps the way in which psycho-
therapy, in the process of liberating the person from his ego,
becomes an entry into the serpentine domain, may take a form
in which other aspects of the kundalini phenomenon are more
apparent—such as the mediumistic or the visionary. Mostly, I
want to draw attention to the fact that successful psychotherapy
of one kind or another may come to a point where, as in spiritual
life, the sufficiently purified individual is reborn to another level
of life where the “Great Goddess” Herself becomes the healer
and guide.
In the world of specific therapies there is one that I find
particularly conducive to a kundalini arousal, and it has not
emerged from the sphere of insight therapy but from a therapeu-
tic application of dance: “authentic movement,” created by Mary
Whitehouse and taught today particularly by Janet Adler. It might
be described as a Latihan minus its explicitly religious context,

and Janet Adler’s book8 could well be described as the story of a
segment in her own kundalini ripening.
I have already mentioned how Gestalt therapy was the con-
text of my own kundalini awakening, and can now add that,
as a psychotherapist using Gestalt, I too have been a witness to
kundalini arousals.
In the pages that follow I transcribe a complete case recorded
in Esalen in 1968/9, when, pioneering as I may have been, I was
also a beginner. It is not the only time when I have seen psycho-
logical work trigger a top/bottom opening of the prana-stream.
However short the session may have fallen of bringing about
complete liberation of the patient’s body or emotional life, it is
clear that the sense of fluid orbiting his body along with fire in
his belly were triggered in him in the process of re-owning the
content of his dream.
Franz: I had a dream and I tried to figure it out myself but I don’t
know if I really did. It was a very disturbing dream. I have a little
five-year-old girl that I love with such an intensity that it’s sort of a
... we’re sort of one person. And I call her “Sweetie-pie.” And, ah,
and I had a dream in which ah, she was hanging up on a rope from a
beam similar to these beams. And her, she was still alive, though, but
she, her head was kind of crooked, like this. And she was looking at
me like ah, “Well Daddy I don’t like this but if you really want to do
it, that’s OK.” And ah, ... there was a butcher knife and I took the
back end of it—the back side—and I took it and I pushed it through
and decapitated her. And then I woke up and was just hideously in
very much pain. You know. I just ached all over. And that was the
end of the dream.
Naranjo: Could you imagine yourself in the position of your daugh-

ter just as you saw her in the dream and share with us how it feels
to be her in that position? Give words to what she did not say in
the dream but she might be feeling.
F: Well, from the expression on her face it sort of looked like she
was just this (shows) and saying, you know, “You know, Daddy, I
don’t really like this, but ...”
N: Now you are her. Develop that.
F: Okay, Daddy, I don’t really like this, but ah, I’ll go along with you
if that’s what you want. ... It’s sort of like she is very much afraid,
you know, but she is being very brave. “I’m very much afraid, but
I’m being very brave because I like you a lot too, and I’ll do what-
ever you want.”
N: Now continue this dialogue. In the dream it was one sided, but
now go on dreaming, so to say, and respond to her. She’s just told
you that you really want this and ...
F: I’m myself now. (20 sec. pause)
N: What do you feel right now?
F: Very confused.
N: See if you can get in touch with the feeling by describing it.
F: (Long pause. Stands with eyes closed and lowered head. Starts
using left arm forward.) There’s just something in my arm. My arm
feels like a lever. The confusion is going away now. It’s just like a
mechanical lever. ... It’s like there’s some hidden force there that
I’m not aware of what it is.
N: Maybe you can tell her this now, that you cannot help doing what
you are doing; that your arm is like a lever and so forth.
F: Sweetie-pie, my arm is like a lever and it’s really going by itself.

I, I don’t really have control over it.
N: What was the feeling then?
F: It’s like there’s something just driving straight out and, and it
wants to keep going and I have to kind of break it and ... (tension
in voice in last sentence.)
N: Stay with it. Develop this feeling, or maybe express this, in move-
ment or words or something.
F: There’s something out there pulling me. It’s, there’s, (struggling)

there’s something out there. There’s on my hand, too ... (struggling)
Oohh! (acting out) I feel something pulling it. (Pulls again for about
10 sec. of verbal struggling.)
N: Any other image aside from the rope?

F: Well, there’s something else but it’s so vague I don’t know what
it is. It’s like the rope goes off into, into kind of a gray and white
cloud or something which just disappears.
N: That sounds familiar, from what you have been saying during
the week; your gray man ...9 OK, even though it’s vague, imagine
you are this thing pulling you — the rope or whatever is behind
the rope pulling. Try to merge with that, Franz, and you are pulling
Franz, and having him perform that action.
F: (pause) That really throws me because ... I’m having him per-
form.
N: You’re having what?
F: That, that throws me. I’m, I, I can’t get in tune with that right
now—that I’m the one who is controlling Franz. You know; I’m
having him performing; like I got him over there and I’m pulling
him...
N: How does it feel to have him perform what you want?
F: But I don’t want him to do that. I don’t want him to perform

that way and, and I don’t want to pull him either. It’s ah, the fact
is that I’m just pulling and the rope’s slipping through his hands.
Yeah. That, it really isn’t working. ... My, my hands feel like clubs.
They don’t feel like hands anymore. They feel like clubs with knots
on the ends. I, I don’t even feel the rope anymore...
N: Now let your hands speak. Imagine your hands can say what
they feel.
F: These hands are solid. They ah, they’re like a rock on the end of
a stick and they’re, they’re very hard. And ah, and there’s some kind
of a life inside, though; there’s something moving inside the rocks
as, it’s like a, a worm or something inside crawling around.
N: Let that life inside speak. You are now that life crawling around
inside the rock.
F: (silence) There’s, there’s some kind of a, there’s a pump. There’s

a pump pumping something. It’s, it’s a surge; some kind of surge.
N: “I am a pump.”
F: Pump. It, it just goes around and around like this, and it’s a,
a pump that surges around and around inside the rock like this.
(Indicates a circular movement in his body, up his back and down

his front.)
N: Then feel that pump surging. Continue to identify with it ...
What does it want?
F: I’ve got a pipe coming in my head. You know? There is a pipe

coming in the top of me and one going out the bottom, and I’m
circulating something. And I ache all over. This pump is, it’s got a
lot of strain, too. There’s a lot of parts in it that are about to break.
There’s ah, it’s like ah, a little more pressure and the pump will
break apart. Much pressure in the pump.
N: Continue speaking as pump. “More pressure and I will break

apart.” Be one with the pump.
F: I, I have parts sort of like sides. There’s much pressure in me and

I feel that if the pressure gets any greater these sides will break.
N: Repeat this a few more times but feeling that Franz is saying
this.
F: I’m Franz and, and I have a lot of things going th-through from
my head through my bottom. Sort of like there’s something from
my head to my bottom. It’s sort of like there’s something coming
out of my rectum. Pumps in my head and goes out my rectum. And
I feel like if I get any more pressure I’m gonna break.
N: Keep repeating this last statement.
F: And I feel like if I get any more pressure in me I’m gonna break....
And I feel like if I get any more pressure in me I’m gonna break....
My rip cage feels like it’s gonna break. It’s (breathing laboriously)
if I (rasping) get any more pressure in me I’m gonna break.
N: Could you imagine yourself saying this to your daughter? Try

and see what meaning the statement takes on.
F: Ohh. Oh Sweetie-pie. If I get any more pressure in me I’m gonna

break. Oh, things are breaking. There’s something breaking inside
of me. There’s there’s something breaking.
N: Tell her more about that.
F: (still rather rasping, tired and strained) It feels like my backbone is

splitting down the middle and there’s something inside of me that’s
green and sort of squiggly. Oh, oh, my backbone!
N: Go with it and let yourself break.
F: Oohh. And my head’s breaking, too. (strained) The pressure’s in

my head ... my backbone ... I’m afraid to let go. Oh, my back hurts.
N: Could you let go some more?
F: Ohhh. (sighs and struggles) ... Ohhh, Oh, my stomach hurts now.
Ohh, and my head hurts.
N: Let go as much as you can and let what wants out, even if you
feel that you can break some more.
F: Oh yeah, (still struggling physically and vocally) my hip wants to

break. Ohh. Oh, my foot wants to break. Oh, ohh. Ohhhh ... ohhh...
ohh. I wann let it break but it won’t break. There’s something hold-
ing it. There’s something keeping it from breaking. There’s like a
sack around my feet, like a board or like a leather boot ... Ohhhh!
Oh ohhh.
N: Is the pressure greater now?
F: Oh, it’s breaking my back again! Oh and my arms are frozen.

Ohhhh. Ohhhh.
N: Do you still feel that green thing inside?
F: (whispers at first) It’s just a, a little green cloud now.
N: Just put your attention there for a while.
F: (very softly) I’m scared. I’m frozen. I can’t move. My back hurts
and my arms are frozen. My head hurts. That, that iron band is
around my head again. There’s an iron band around my head.
N: OK, see if you can now stretch and become that iron band. Be
that which is paralyzing you. Feel yourself now as metal constrain-
ing you and making you hurt.
F: I’m just starting to pump again. I’m throbbing all over. (All this
still almost inaudible) My fingers are throbbing again. My pump is
back in me again. I’m off again. I’m pumping. I think the iron band
is a pump. It’s pumping things through my head.
N: It seems you feel more comfortable being the iron band around
you and squeezing Franz than being the victim of the squeezing.
F: Yeah. A little more. My, my back quit hurting. Only my hands

are, my hands are just pumping or throbbing. They just throb.
They’re pulsing.
N: OK, see if you could now have a dialogue between these two
sides of you; Franz the paralyzed, frozen one, and the pump or the
metal band, as you wish. See what they have to say to each other.
You might start with Franz paralyzed and talking to this band.
F: I’m, I’m stiff and I can’t move. But, but you’re pumping things
through me and I pulsate. My whole body’s pulsating. It’s like a, like
ah, everything’s pulsating ... Ooh. Even my eyes are pulsating.
N: Do you have any feelings towards this thing pumping through

you, this metal part?
F: (Still softly and tired or rasping) It feels like a, like a robot with
all kinds of lights going on and off. Sort of like a neon sign, just
pulsating.
N: Are you the robot with the lights?
F: I feel like a robot with neon lights inside me, and these lights are
all going on and off.
N: OK, let’s look more into this theme. This is coming up since the
very first scene: you perform an action in your dream in which you
feel like your hand does something that you don’t want to do, like
a lever or something pulls you, something does something through
you. You are pumped, now. You seem to experience yourself always,
not as the agent of movement, but as something moved. So let us
take this statement “I feel like a robot.” I would like you to come
back again to us, to the group, and do some repeating of this state-
ment to other people. Tell some of us here “I feel like a robot,” and
watch your feelings as you say this. Or maybe start just where you
are by saying it to nobody or to everybody. Stick to that statement
“I feel like a robot,” and see what feeling emerges; how relevant
it is.
F: I feel like a robot ... (is still mumbling almost inaudible) ... with
much activity inside ... I feel like a, like a robot. (Semi-closed eyes, as
if listening intently to himself) There’s a great deal of activity inside
... I feel like a robot ... and I don’t like to feel like a robot ... I’d
rather move around. Don’t like to be stiff. (Seems to move around

during pause) I don’t like to feel like a robot. (Sighs) I’d rather move
around and I’d rather be flexible. (Still seems to be moving) Hmmm.
That pump is really going inside; making me dizzy.
N: Could you let this pumping do something with your movements.

Could you let tha...
F: Please?
N: Could let that pumping do something—guide you—let the

pumping move you around instead of being contained in you.
F: I guess most of the parts are in my head. The iron band is gone.
It’s not there any more. It isn’t there any more. It’s (moving and sort
of whispering so pretty inaudible) I feel so uncoordinated. It’s just
a, it’s hot, too. It’s real hot, too. It just goes through me like this,
and I feel like I’m going to fall over.
N: Just let the pumping continue and ...
F: It just goes around and around.
N: ... more and more.
F: It goes like this; round and round through me here. Through me

like this. (Shows) (whispering) Then my stomach gets on fire. My
stomach is hot, too. (Sighs) ...
N: Is it increasing?
F: (Struggling) Oh yes. Oh. Oh.
N: Then go all the way.
F: (Whispers) Oh this fire is big. Oh it’s, oh. Oh.
N: See if you can go on doing the same thing, letting the movement
go on within, but stamp your feet a little while you do that. Keep
moving.
F: (Very quietly) My stomach feels so heavy, like this. Pieces of lead

in it or something that’s heavy. And now that iron back is — the
iron band is back on my head again.
N: Do you have any feeling of what the energy wants; where it

wants to go?
F: The, the iron band seems to want to keep my brain from explod-
ing. It, it’s holding it.
N: Let it explode. I think you’re safe.
F: The iron band’s holding in tighter. Now it’s coming. My whole

face is becoming an iron mask. I’m scared.
N: Take sides with the energy. Imagine the energy can talk to the
iron band. See if you can feel what the energy would like to say to
the iron band.
F: Iron band, I don’t like you holding me in like this. You’re, you’re
constricting me ...
N: Put the strength of that energy in your voice when you say it.
F: I see a lot of purple lights. There are purple lights flashing all over
the place ... purple lights ... lights ...
N: Try to merge more with the energy, just as if you were inside
the (inaudible) ...
F: ... My body isn’t right now. My arms won’t go any more.
N: OK, let’s see if we can serve as iron band for you. How would
you feel if we hold you in so you try to literally break through us.
My feeling would be to make a small circle around you so you can
use all this energy in fighting us. We will be your iron band. (more
around) Use all the energy that you can to break.
F: (Struggles and screams for around 20 sec., then calms down

and repeats “Oh,” many times, panting, occasionally intermingled
with “Oh my God.” This must go on for about a minute with more
“Oh my God” at the end.) Oh, I am pumping now. (Chuckles from
group) Ohh. Holy God. (Still panting) I didn’t think he (or you)
meant that much. Oh my God. Oh shit.
PART II
New Applications
of Meditation in
Psychotherapy
CHAPTER FIVE
MEDITATION-IN-RELATION
I. By Way of Introduction
I began exploring interpersonal meditation after exposure to

both Zen (through Suzuki Roshi) and Gestalt therapy (through
Fritz Perls) in 1965. The principal stimulus was my own interest
in sustaining meditation after sitting, and my difficulty doing so.
I first created exercises for myself that I practiced with the col-
laboration of interested friends, until I began sharing these with
others on the occasion of a program which took place in Santiago
de Chile in 1967, and which the Esalen catalog announced as
Esalen-in-Chile.
I later had occasion to explore the matter further in the
groups that I conducted during my Esalen days, in the late sixties,
and for the first time conducted a workshop exclusively dedicated
to illustrating the domain of “interpersonal extensions of medita-
tion” at the invitation of Michael Murphy under the sponsorship
of Esalen at the Westerback Ranch, in Pomona. Soon after that I
presented a workshop at Nyingma Institute (in Berkeley) in which
I for the first time systematically demonstrated the interpersonal
extensions of the kinds of meditation contemplated in my early
four-fold model.
Interpersonal meditation (or meditation-in-relation) became
part of my activity at the SAT Institute program in Berkeley
95
uring the early seventies, and from here someone exported it

d
to Rajneesh’s ashram in Poona, where it became—as one of Ra-
jneesh’s old sanyasis once told me—the ashram’s “daily bread.”
I suppose this was one reason why—I later read with surprise—
Rajneesh acknowledged me as one of his Western influences
(along with Gurdjieff and Carl Rogers).
Some twenty years after the Berkeley SAT program there
arose a condensed version of the same (SAT-in-Spain) in which
once more interpersonal meditation (or “intersubjective medita-
tion”) became part of a systematic program—as a bridge between
traditional meditation and meditation-inspired therapeutic exer-
cises—as I illustrate in this chapter and the next.
Though I have used interpersonal meditation regularly as
part of one or another mosaic of approaches in working with
groups, only once have I conducted an event with this exclusive
focus—on one of the sessions of the Symposium of Man that
took place in Toledo in 1991. What follows is a transcript of that
meeting.
II. A Demonstration Workshop of

Meditation‑In‑Relation
I will be guiding you through a series of meditations that will

be carried out in pairs; in each case I will ask you to move your
chairs or cushions to where you sit face‑to‑face with another
person.
I propose that you take advantage of the providential op-
portunities of such a large group as we have and look for a
person that you do not know and feel you would like to know.
The following exercises constitute ways of being silently in the
presence of another; or of meditating with another person in the
foreground of one’s consciousness horizon, so to speak.
I will only say by way of introduction that the subject has
interested me very much and has little by little become one of my
Meditation-in-Relation 97
specialties. I began to explore interpersonal meditation in Esalen

while I walked there during the late sixties, at a time when Perls
left for Canada and I remained as one of the three resident Ge-
staltists there. In addition to leading purely Gestalt workshops, I
introduced a workshop model that consisted, aside from Gestalt
sessions in the evenings, mornings of meditation, afternoons dur-
ing which we explored something mid-way between meditation
and communication—an exploration of being with another in a
meditative state, whether in silent intersubjectivity or in verbal
interaction. While meditating we search for our own center, but
in a very simplified situation, so that maintaining a stabilized
consciousness later in the tumult of life is hard work.
It is an aspiration in all the traditions that all should become
like meditation, that each moment should be one of meditative
consciousness; but that great ambition is very difficult to achieve.
One really needs years and years of meditation practice to be able
to sustain the meditative state in interpersonal life.
It is much easier to maintain the meditative state in everyday
life in silence and for this reason different traditions use crafts as
an occasion of cultivating inner silence. Thus, in the Middle East
rugs are woven and copper worked on; in Christian communi-
ties, carpentry; in Gurdjieff groups anything from cooking to
building is the occasion of self-awareness and self-remembering.
In such situations it is rather simple to resist being devoured by
the automatism of attachment and aversion and to keep one’s
attention on one’s inner work. Yet when we turn to work in the
interpersonal situation, we are swallowed up by our condition-
ing: our fear, our narcissism, and so on.
We always have a particular weakness that we need to dis-
engage from and that we may potentially “meditate away,” as
it perhaps will become apparent in the course of the exercises
that we will do. Each might be described as a way to decondi-
tion oneself from our automatic and obsolete programs while
rooting oneself in a calm clarity. The intent of doing so may be
felt as somewhat taboo, and so you may feel as if it were against
the norm to be completely natural. At the time when we were

growing up, the external world kept saying to us, through the
mouths of parents or other family members: “Put your attention
here!” “Pay attention to me!” “Look! Listen to me!” It is as if we
had been forcibly distracted from ourselves, and we had lost our
original spontaneous concentration.
We have to recapture the ability to be with ourselves while
being with other people. That is, we need to learn how not to be
compulsively attending to the external world and also to be able
to be with ourselves, yet without being compulsively absorbed in
ourselves. So, this then, will generally be our subject. There are
many ways to do it—as many ways as there are ways of individual
meditation, though some of them are more specifically relational.
I will invite you to experiment with the interpersonal extension
of traditional forms, and also, if time allows, with something that
may be regarded a specifically interpersonal form of meditation—
that may be said to take advantage of the unique situation pres-
ently in relationship. Let’s see how much we manage to do.
In principle, my intention is to alternate between short
meditation sessions and to listening to one or more people, not
so much in view of my comments, but so that everyone may hear
from others, and go away taking along not only his or her experi-
ence and my instructions but some further idea of the experiential
possibilities of what we attempt.
I want to begin with an interpersonal extension of the
meditation formula that is closest to the world of contemporary
therapy—particularly in the case of the therapy most represented
here, for if I am not mistaken, many people here are gestaltists.
Gestalt has involved something like a re‑discovery of Vipassana.
Vipassana is a sophisticated practice of mindfulness being
specially stressed in Buddhism and Northern Sufism; its essence
is being attentive to the here and now, and this is what Fritz
Perls introduced without knowing that he was re‑discovering an
ancient formula. Yet while it is true that Gestalt is something of
an interpersonal Vipassana, it lacks the Buddhist emphasis on

non-attachment and also its orientation toward metaphysical
insight. Also, little time is given to the silent interpersonal “here
and now” in a Gestalt session. I believe that after trying it, if only
for about ten minutes, you will leave with a greater sense of how
much density and subtlety this experience can entail.
So we shall begin now, and I want to ask you to look for a
person with whom to make this first silent exploration. Go ahead
and move your chairs to fill up the space of the room and I will
continue speaking once everyone is situated. Those who do not
have chairs can stand, or sit on the floor.
I will ask you then to face each other and, for those of you
who have chairs, not to lean on the back. It is better to sit on the
front edge of the chair rather than against the back, for this will
permit seeking such alignment of the spinal column that it may
by its very straightness support itself without effort.
Go ahead and close your eyes now, and make contact with
your body, and with your breath. It will be a good point of de-
parture to be present, relaxed, without trying to do anything
special.
Allow yourselves, if possible, to let go of tensions; relax-
ing the face, especially the tongue (with which we continue to
converse while we think), and the shoulders. And allow your
body weight to fall toward the center of gravity in the abdomen,
allowing yourselves to be anchored in the abdomen. And we are
going to use the breath to help the memory, as an element which
reminds us with each exhalation to make an observation about
how we experience this moment. With each breath we will ask
ourselves—“What do I feel?” or “What is this?” or “What is
here?”
And I will ask that you put your attention, specifically, in
your solar plexus, in the upper abdomen, ... feeling the breath
there, feeling the rise and fall at that point of each respiratory
movement; ... as if that point there were an antenna, as if that
region were a receiver of the experience of that moment. And ask

yourself then, a question about the here and now, a question like
“how do I feel?” or “what do I experience?”
Is there perhaps a feeling that stands out? Think of some
word appropriate to your present state. Perhaps “peace” or “ir-
ritation,” “jealousy,” “vague malaise,” “alarm,” or “excitation”?
When you open your eyes, I will ask you to look at your
partner’s solar plexus, not at his face.
Allow your eyes to open now, continuing to mind your breath
and also your ongoing experience. Seek to adopt an attitude of
impartial observation and equanimity; without trying to make
the experience different from what it is, simply observe. Whether
pleasant or unpleasant, don’t interfere with whatever is there. Be
curious, rather, investigating the truth of whatever is.
As you continue to observe the feeling of each moment, pay
attention to what in your experience of this moment is evoked
by the person that you have before you—even though you are
only looking at a circumscribed part of the other person’s body
and not at the face—which is the part that communicates more
of the other’s state. It may be that there is already some feeling,
some emotional state of pleasure or pain, of affinity or of rejec-
tion, or both: something that you like or something that you
don’t like about the other. Allow yourself to feel it and look at
it impartially.
And very slowly begin raising your gaze toward the face of
the person in front of you, giving yourself permission to see and
feel whatever is there, to approve or disapprove, to like or dislike,
to feel affinity or rejection, to feel altruistic compassion or the
most egotistical feelings. And to the extent that you continue to
observe your “here and now” with each breath, without interfer-
ing, without losing freedom, without manipulating your own ex-
perience, without wanting to fool yourself about what happens,
allow yourself to be seen by the other.
Imagine that the other can see your mind, and explore how
far you can allow your own freedom of experience under the gaze
of the other. To what extent can you invite the awareness of the
other into what happens, including your thoughts?
Intensify now the painful aspect of your experience of the
moment. Even if you are feeling well and this moment is predomi-
nantly pleasant, perhaps there is a drop of pain, a drop of dis-
comfort; perhaps you are bothered a little by the noise, perhaps
your shoe bothers you, perhaps you dislike your partner’s nose,
perhaps there is a residue of pain from something that occurred
in recent days, or perhaps the chronic pain from your past is also
present. Intensify your attention to the painful aspect of the mo-
ment, under the gaze of the other.
And we will conclude at this point the meditation, and we
will allow three minutes for taking leave of your partners and to
share something. You may want to continue in silence, and you
may prefer to say good‑bye with only a gesture; but perhaps you
feel moved to say something of what happened for you, how you
experienced each other, or to ask something. But we will limit the
exchange to three minutes, and I will ask that when I give you
the signal you conclude the conversation, so we can move on to
a group‑sharing situation.
How was this? What kinds of things happened? Who felt that
during the sitting some worthwhile work was accomplished? The
great majority. I am very pleased. It seems that many were able to
improve their internal state.
For whom was the experience most profound or most intense
during the period with the eyes open? More than half of the
people, perhaps even three quarters of the group. That confirms
something which I have found myself observing over and over:
even though there may be some difficulty in extending a medita-
tion to include the other, there is also a very specific benefit to
it; in some way that extension facilitates the meditation. It is as
if after one leaves behind the everyday social attitude the other
became a stimulus. The other is no longer an impediment, then,
but a source of “contagion”; for a giving and receiving of atten-
tion takes place, and a sort of “mental transfusion.”
Who sensed some of such transfusion, contagion or silent

communication? More than half of the people.
Was this “mental transfusion” surprising or dramatic for
anyone?
“The first thing that happened when I opened my eyes was
that my state changed totally. I didn’t feel my breathing, and
the palpitations that I felt when I was alone I no longer felt
as me. Then I became aware that I was not making any effort.
Later when you told us to look at the other’s face, there was a
very emotional moment and also a feeling of relaxing, resting;
a very intense sensation, but the strongest sensation that I felt
was of relaxing and that the other was well; everything was fine,
without effort.”
CN: Wonderful! That is an objective of meditation, that state
of non‑effort. It may take long to stabilize such an achievement,
for it usually comes after years of struggling not to struggle.
Would somebody else like to share something? Statements
that reflect meditation experience are gifts to all.
“I was with a friend of mine that comes from my own city,
so when Claudio said we should allow ourselves to be seen by the
other, I realized that I would have difficulty in doing that. With a
stranger it would have been much easier. I felt shy that the other
could see my desires, and an unknown person wouldn’t have such
judgments.”
CN: Yes, that happens when we travel. Travelling compan-
ions may become very intimate. And in large groups sometimes
participants can lend each other this service more easily, so that
unknown people can be an occasion of more discovery than those
who are part of our life, and before whom we may have certain
things to hide.
I would like to know: who had a clear awareness of having
secret thoughts? Thoughts that you would not want another to
see? Who is ready to confess having felt secretive during this ex-
perience? I see that very few. Or at least very few are telling.
How about people who discovered that they were able to

become transparent? That they didn’t have so much to hide as
they might have anticipated? Sometimes one realizes that the
need to put a boundary is unnecessary, that at first there seemed
to be things that one would want to hide, yet it turned out there
was nothing that could not be shared.
It happened in the moment of sharing my experience ...”
CN: Yes, many times that happens. It may be that during the
silence there is hiding, but within a short while, with some kind
of retrospecting, the mystery seems no longer important.
Well, let’s leave this here and now turn to another experi-
ence, another time of immersion into shared silence. Just look
panoramically and seek a new person to sit with.
We will begin again with closed eyes, in a position of rest—
not only physical but psychological.
Let go of any intention, of doing anything in particular.
Just seek to be present to whatever spontaneously happens
while you are there.
Let yourself be.
Seek inspiration in the sensations of physical relaxation for a
deeper relaxation of the mind.
Since we will use the occasion of physical relaxation as a
context to obtain a deeper relaxation of the mind, for a while
focus mainly on the body.
Let go your face, relax your shoulders, relax your tongue—
which is so involved in subtle dialogue.
The more the more one seeks to let go the body armour, the
more one’s subtler psychological armour may become apparent.
It is not irrelevant to relax our hands or feet, our “terminals”—
and in this relaxation we are bound to feel more whole.
It is not possible to properly feel our body without letting go
of automatic tensions. Each person knows what tensions need
to be relaxed, but normally there is much contraction in the
respiratory area; the diaphragm contraction needs to be relaxed.

Abdominal muscles need to be relaxed. If one lets go the belly,
it becomes easier to find one’s center in a subtler sense than the
merely physical.
Now when you open your eyes, I will ask that you pay at-
tention to continuing in this attitude of “not doing” while visual
impressions come to you—but you will not look at each other’s
face yet. Begin by looking at your partner’s belly. See if it is
possible for you to remain in the same mental state of peaceful
relaxation once you open your eyes. And while visual impressions
reach your eyes don’t let yourself be moved by habitual responses
or putting on a special expression before the other.
When you are before the other or before the world, you are
usually not relaxed, you are not in the attitude in which you fall
asleep at night—and yet I am now asking you to approximate
that restfulness of parasympathetic regeneration that precedes
sleep, and pursue nothing. Just let your inner juices circulate and
everything fall into place by itself. Let your mind reorganize itself
according to its inner wisdom and needs.
We are seeking a state comparable to that of being in our
mother’s womb—and yet with a window to the outer world—a
state of not needing to adapt to anything.
Begin to open your eyes now, still sustaining this regressive
state, this state of no‑effort or relaxation, not only of the body
but also of the feeling state and of the conceptual mind. A state
of not having to think—just as one lets oneself sink into sleep
leaving all thoughts for tomorrow. There are no further tasks
for today. And we do this while we are gazing at the belly of the
person who is in front of us.
And in this state of mental silence let yourself very slowly
raise your gaze to the solar plexus, and then the heart. Or, rather,
what in the spiritual traditions is usually called the heart—in the
middle of the chest.
And let yourself be like idiots before one another. In ordinary
life we have always to be intelligent, capable, and know how to
cope with situations, how to handle them as they occur, be pre-

pared—and the experience of shared silence is not very familiar
to us. Allowing oneself to just be there “like a fool” is something
that belongs to the province of great intimacy.
Now raise your gaze to the throat of your companion, con-
tinuing in that same attitude of being empty-minded, as an idiot
might be.
Empty-headed, but with a fullness in the belly, as you let the
weight of your abdomen fall into your pelvis, and as you continue
with the task of not thinking and relaxing—muscles and mind.
And now raise your gaze toward the mouth of your compan-
ion; and further up, then to the nose. You may have noticed that
you need sustained attention in order to attain a state of inner
quiet.
And you may use the breathing as a reminder. Every time you
let the breath go, you also let everything in your mind fall.
And now I will ask you to relax your visual focus, so that in-
stead of looking at a point in the face of your partner—you look,
rather, around the face. Explore a panoramic way of looking;
and you may notice that this way of seeing evokes a particular
inner state.
It is an additional support for an attitude of non doing. It is
easier to shut up inwardly if you look, not at one point or another,
as in our everyday way of looking at things, which is a utilitarian
way of intending to seek something or do something—but with a
gaze lost in the infinite. You can even imagine that you are at the
center of a sphere, looking in every direction.
Persist a little longer in this attempt to simply be there lost in
the space, without doing anything. Just be present, without any
further attempt than that of simple presence. Also, attempting
nothing in connection with the other. Your inner silence will be
contagious, anyhow.
Becoming nothing is quite something that we have to offer
one another. So allow yourself to empty yourself while in a silent
relationship.
Be aware of the gaze of the other without altering your

own panoramic gaze. When we do nothing in front of another,
something may happen that we are not seeking, through the
gaze.
Again, we will allow a very brief time for sharing the experi-
ence with one another.
Let us now hear some reports.
This has been completely different from the previous one.
There was much inner peace, and much more intensity, and I felt
better.
I was able to let myself just be. I had a feeling that something
exploded inside and came out, they were feelings, and more energy
in the air.
For me the sensation was of emptiness and space.
It has been a sensation of great calm, sublime.
For me it has been curious that sharing the experience with
another, just when she felt that I was very distracted, I was keenly
aware of every detail.
For me it has been an experience of being useless.
For me it happened with breathing, when I looked at the solar
plexus of the other, it seemed like my own. I liked feeling that we
were breathing at the same time. And it seemed that I relaxed more,
as if the fact of being attuned made relaxation more intense.
I felt the mouth and nose more and I felt like smiling.
CN: Sometimes when you are in purgatory, you are not aware
of your own smile. Those in purgatory, no matter how much they
are separated from their goal, are smiling as well. Yet it may be
another who is more aware of it.
I have experienced the smile in a different way because I felt a
circulation of energy between us. I give it and receive it in a very
fluid way, and when I closed my eyes, just before the sharing, I
have clearly visualized the energy flow as if encompassed by a
smile.
We’ll leave this here.
Now I want to demonstrate to you another way of working,

in which the emphasis lies in the simultaneous attention to differ-
ent provinces of awareness. We will cultivate panoramic attention
not only in respect to the gaze, but in a wider sense.
To begin, seek a partner for another time of shared silence.
Once more, we will begin with closed eyes; the spine erect
and yet at rest. In a state of being without effort and attentive to
what comes through your ears.
You are simultaneously attending to your body and your
breath—inseparable from your body at rest—and to the singing
that is reaching us from next door. When you open your eyes this
time, sustain this awareness of your body and of the singing, while
at the same time being visually aware of the person before you.
The task is to sustain a continuous counterpoint of body, auditory
and visual sensations—in a state of deep rest.
Let everything happen by itself. Allow the sounds to come
and go. Allow impressions to come to your eyes and do their thing
without your having to do anything about it. More generally, let
the world be as it is and proceed by itself.
Now that the chanting is softer, panoramically attend to all
the sounds that may reach you from the environment; perhaps a
motor from the distance, and within the singing, voices of women
and of men. And let the noises from one part of the room or
another be part of what you hear. Don’t let your attention rest
explicitly on something, nor let auditory or body awareness take
away your attention from what you see. Do not let the person
before you become a blur, but seek to get a clear image—yet
without distraction from the sensations from your feet, or from
your breath. Concentrate specially in relaxing the lower half of
your body—your legs.
If you have achieved successfully the simultaneous awareness
of seeing, sensing and listening, you may now consider the ques-
tion of “Who is it that is looking?” ... “Who is it that is sensing?”
... “Who is it that is listening?”
Turn your awareness toward the center of yourself. Seek to

be aware of your own awareness.
While in contact with the world, while you are listening and
looking, you are at the same time inquiring “Who perceives?”
You seek an answer that perhaps cannot be put in words, but the
inquiry brings about something.
This is an invitation to be in contact with the essential core
of your mind. During the next silent time, inquire into what is
there, at the center.
Once more, we will make room for a brief time of sharing
and saying good‑bye.
I would be interested in the harvest.

I have had a very beautiful experience. It’s the first time that I
have worked like this. When Claudio said, “Who is looking?” for
the first time I felt that this was a state where there was nobody.
And my partner felt the same. There was nobody that was looking.
It was very moving. Something very new, very different.
I have had a very strong experience at the time of inquiring

“Who looks?” A sensation of up and down, like a roller-coaster.
There was a feeling of terror and pleasure, and not being able to do
anything other than let myself go. It was a very strong experience,
to let go and see me there.
I am still not very clear about it, as to who. I felt as if some-

thing opened and there was a space through which I wanted to
watch, and as I was watching, I ceased watching. It was like going
very far in an instant, and seeing without seeing. And what I saw
was very familiar, a space that I conceptually knew existed but
never achieved, it was now tangible to me.
CN: You knew that what existed?
That there could be a source, that the source can reach through
us.
I have felt I was not doing anything at all, and I felt puzzled.
And when I asked “Who,” it was like something that I don’t know,
but with a sensation of going into pain. It scared me a little. As if
it were another something inside me of which I had no image.
CN: There circulates the myth that the experience of empti-
ness is the same for everybody, but to the extent that we empty
ourselves, what happens is what needs to happen, which is differ-
ent at each moment for each. For one it can be to experience his
pain, and for another it can be a peak experience. And there isn’t
just one kind of samadhi, but perhaps thousands. Ibn ’Arabi, great
Spanish Sufi (whose house I tried to locate last year in Lorca, near
Murcia, but found that no one I asked knew of his existence) says
that spiritual experiences are unrepeatable. I think it is important
to consider that. At any time, you meet what it is for you to meet,
and while there is something universal about the experience of
Spirit, there is also a particularity that is intrinsic to it.
Well, there is still time to explore another dimension, another

aspect of meditation. Once more, find a travelling companion.
Begin with eyes closed, without doing anything, in a disposi-
tion of complete rest.
Get in contact with the sensations of tiredness that you may
be feeling at this point of the meeting—for attention does involve
energy expenditure; and to the extent that you feel tired, allow
yourself to rest. Take advantage of the opportunity to rest as
deeply as possible. Don’t attempt anything but resting.
I will be guiding you through some work on intention. Let
us entertain a friendly intention toward ourselves from which
we wish to ourselves all the good things of this world—and of
the other.
I am proposing that you put your attention on an intention
that is already there, for we all want happiness. Just concentrate
on this wish that is part of you: a wish for happiness.
In regard to the things of this world, and also in regard to the

other-worldly sphere, let us wish for ourselves the supreme good.
And while we wish for ourselves the good things of this imperma-
nent life as well as the lasting attainment of spiritual fruition, let
us inquire as to whether there is any objection to this within you,
any reservation. Sometimes people find it easier to wish for small
things, and don’t find it so easy to wish for themselves complete
happiness. As you try wishing yourselves ultimate good, you may
find out that this meets a taboo, for instance. So find out if there
is any “but,” any limit. And then see whether you can go a bit
beyond your current limit—in an act of self‑blessing. Solidarity
with yourself. Feel that it is legitimate for you to wish yourself
spiritual and worldly happiness.
And when you open your eyes, I will this time ask you that
you continue doing the same thing while you look at each other’s
face. That is to say, in the presence of the other you will continue
to engage in this seemingly selfish act of wishing for yourself all
of the good things of this world and of the other; you wish for
yourself both worldly happiness and spiritual success: success
on your spiritual journey. Aspire for success in your spiritual
development.
Do open your eyes, if you have not, and as you continue
involved in solidarity with yourself, explore any objection that
may arise, any hesitation or any embarrassment, as you wish for
yourself good things in the presence of another.
And now do the same, while in addition you extend similar
wishes toward your partner. The situation now is one of intend-
ing at the same time for yourself and for one another spiritual
and material happiness, which is something equivalent to saying:
“God bless us.”
Once more, observe any interference, any objection that may
arise in your mind in face of this attempt to bless one another.
Maybe it is not so easy, sometimes, to wish the supreme good to
another. One may perhaps believe implicitly that in the spiritual
as in the material world, energy is not enough for everybody; that
if you are willing goodness for another, you may deprive yourself
or somebody else. Just watch any resistances to the benevolent
intention, and when you find them, seek to work against the
present limit. Explore going a bit beyond, and see what happens.
Explore how far you can go, making this the occasion of an ex-
ercise in blessing.
Knowing that every culture has known that this is within the
human capacity, and seemingly may have consequences, let us
take advantage of this opportunity to extend our “God bless us”
intention to a wider horizon—the horizon of this room. Beyond
the partner with whom you are sitting, and while you continue
to shower yourself and your partner with your benevolent inten-
tion, also extend this shower to all that are carrying on this same
exercise within these walls, radiating this intention within the
space of this room. The music that comes from the adjoint room,
I think, will provide a good support for this aspiration.
If you feel that it’s easy for you to radiate love within the
limits of this room, you may take advantage of the vehicle of
sound to go a little beyond, and include the imaginary presence
of those with whom you may have something pending, some
forgiving to do, some compassion to extend. Once more observe
your limit, and your objections. Maybe you feel it is not just to
forgive—and yet you may explore giving up the sense of injustice
for a few seconds.
And now, with the support of this experience of benevolence
toward yourself and toward the person you are sitting with, try
to radiate even further, and include a greater horizon. Let us be
ambitious and seek to extend our intention to the horizon of the
geographic spot in which we are, including the city of Toledo and
all who happen to be in it, whom we don’t know.
I would like to invite you to entertain, at least as a working
hypothesis, that this group meditation will not be indifferent: that
this providential group of seekers, who have struggled so much
in their lives, maybe has the ability to bequeath the city of Toledo
with an invisible gift.
Let us give its inhabitants a few further minutes of our con-

centration, so that they too can know the blessed condition of
an open heart, and they can know greater happiness; that they
may be able to transcend their own childhood ambivalence and
resentment, and come to love.
And now let us jump to infinity. Even though this may be too
much—sometimes the seemingly impossible can turn out a suc-
cess in a moment of grace. Let us imagine that ours is only one of
innumerable worlds, and that not only on Earth but in innumer-
able galaxies there exist conscious beings; and let our imagination
radiate our benevolence to all beings in innumerable worlds in
infinite space and in every direction. See whether your radiation
touches something in the distance. Notice whether the invisible
rays that emanate from your heart come to other beings. Maybe
you will feel some kind of reciprocity, so you yourself become the
target of distant blessings.
I will remain silent as we continue working on the expansion
of our loving capacity towards all beings.
CHAPTER SIX
SELF-KNOWLEDGE THROUGH
FREE ASSOCIATION IN A
MEDITATIVE CONTEXT:
A THERAPEUTIC AND
EDUCATIONAL PROPOSAL
I. Introduction
Along with the extension of meditation to situations of silent

interpersonal contact, I have throughout the years explored
and refined various applications of meditation to interpersonal
situations involving some form of verbal communication. In
Gestalt Therapy: The Attitude and Practice of an Atheoretical
Experientialism1 I have already reported on one such technique:
“the continuum of awareness in a meditative context”—a refine-
ment of the basic Gestalt therapy exercise in which the person
verbalizes ongoing experience while omitting from his mono-
logue the description of memories, anticipations and reflections.
My focus in this chapter will be a refinement (in light of medita-
tion) of the exercise developed by Freud that was to become the
running thread and vehicle of the psychoanalytic process.
113
Psychoanalysis might be described as half free association and

half interpretation. If free association is described as the attempt
to say without censorship what comes into one’s mind when not
intentionally directed to a specific object or goal, the essential
strategy of psychoanalysis may be described as the attempt to
understand the resistances that arise when free association is at-
tempted.
Freud’s early disciple and associate Ferenci proposed that the
ability to free associate may be taken as a criterion for the success
and termination of psychoanalysis; in this, free association is not
unlike various meditation techniques: while for the apprentice
meditation is, in fact, a training to meditate, the ability to medi-
tate is the outcome of practice. In one case as in the other, then,
an exercise is both a path and a goal, and the technique is taking
the goal as path.
I began experimenting with free association in a meditative
context in 1968 when I was an associate-in-residence at Esalen
Institute. I already then felt that I had originated something truly
useful, yet after some thirty years of experience my appreciation
for the method continues to increase. I think that, with a little
supervision and coaching, the results of the technique compare
favorably with those of psychotherapy in the hands of the inexpe-
rienced or ungifted (which is to say, a great many). Additionally, I
have found the process a most valuable ingredient in the training
of psychotherapists.
Surely the fact that humanistic psychology emerged as a
reaction to the limitations of psychoanalysis explains that this
valuable and seminal technique of free association remained
outside its eclectic repertoire. Given the psychoanalytic begin-
nings of my own therapeutic training, it was only natural that
I would become interested in exploring its usefulness in group
situations. Yet there was an additional stimulus to this and re-
lated explorations into meditation as a background for verbal
communication situations: a description by Ram Dass of some
psychotherapy sessions conducted upon his return from his life-
Self-Knowledge Through Free Association 115
changing pilgrimage in India in the sixties. In these he abstained

from any intervention besides silent listening while inwardly
repeating the Ram mantram as a means of invoking the divine,
and it seemed to him that something useful was accomplished.
My reaction was appreciative: I was ready to believe that a spiri-
tual state could be infectious and that it could favorably affect
the consideration of interpersonal issues; on the other hand, I
wondered whether the repetition of a mantram was the form
of meditation most suitable to a situation of listening. In time,
I developed various applications of mindfulness and non-doing
instead, and in the end gave special attention to the technique
of focusing on the other’s personhood in a field of space (as de-
scribed in Gestalt Therapy).
There are two elements in free association: one is that of let-
ting go (or “going with the stream”); another, attention.
While in current psychoanalytic psychotherapy it is sponta-
neity that is emphasized (at least through the injunction not to
censor), I think that free association may be enriched in light of
our understanding of meditation if we encourage not only a subtle
spontaneity but the keen awareness demanded by the subtlety and
many-layered structure of the thinking process; and if we pursue
a “centeredness” while going along with the stream of thought,
the exercise of “just saying what comes to mind without censor-
ship” becomes one of communicating the observation of thought
from a position of neutrality. This might be presented by an im-
age such as observing the mind stream with quiet detachment.
In such an exercise of simultaneous stillness and flowingness, I
think, it happens that the more our mind yields to its spontaneity,
the more this furthers a kind of attention that is both panoramic
and centered. Conversely, the mental stability obtained through
panoramic attention constitutes a condition of permeability that
furthers spontaneous flow.
While neutrality is, of course, emphasized in psychoanalysis,
it is the expression of this neutrality in the domain of the ana-
lyst’s behavior that is mostly the issue. My proposition is that the
c ultivation of a deeper neutrality should be part of the free as-

sociation exercise itself. And not an indifferent neutrality, but one
in which silence is compatible with qualities such as appreciative
warmth and humor.
Through the expression “meditative context” in the designa-
tion of the technique, I mean more than a meditative intent on
the part of the person sharing his stream of thought however, for
the interpersonal situation involves a “meditative listening” on
the part of the one to whom communication is directed. As the
exercise unfolds, it may be appropriate to speak of a “meditative
field” under which free association is conducted: an experien-
tially ascertainable “aura” that a meditating individual seems to
emanate and which gives his silence a certain subjectively ascer-
tainable quality. For to speak before one whose silence is only a
superficial indifference is not the same thing as speaking before
one with a calm collectedness or a deep neutrality. Such “noble
silence” is one that we do not feel inclined to fill with trivia or
pollute with banality, just as other times somebody’s heightened
level of awareness may come across as a challenging silence, be-
fore which it is not easy to lie.
To document my use of “free association in a meditative
context” I am turning now to the transcript of a specific occa-
sion in which I led a group through a sequence of peer therapy
sessions involving variants of free association. Though these
begin with the practice of the exercise alone (while the therapist
remains silent throughout the entire meeting), other specific
interventions are explored by the one in the role of therapist.
In this feature of the process, as well as in the fact that the free
association exercises comprise only part of a more encompassing
program, consideration of the said transcript has prompted me
to turn from my original intent of simply reporting on a refine-
ment of the free association technique to that of reporting as
well on the pedagogy that I have developed—in which people
prepare for the free association exercise with sessions of both
individual and interpersonal meditation. Also, without under-

taking to explain the structure nor the rationale of the SAT-in-
Spain Program (from the 1991 session of which the material
quoted was part), I take the opportunity to communicate at
least my impression that a rich and powerful process is created
through the interweaving of meditation and the “free associa-
tion laboratory” with an experiential course on the psychology
of enneatypes.
II. SAT in Spain
Such is the name of a program for psychospiritual and pro-

fessional development that I created in the late eighties and of
which the above mentioned elements are part. More specifically,
the transcript from which I will be quoting during much of the
remainder of this chapter echoes an aspect of the first module of
this program.
During such first module or segment (which has been of-
fered as a three-year Summer Program), the activities mentioned
thus far proceeded in parallel with a variation on the therapeutic
approach originally developed by Robert Hoffman and is some-
times known as the “Fischer-Hoffman Process”: a journey into
childhood memories with focus, first on the experience of pain
and anger, and later on the experience of understanding, compas-
sion and forgiveness. In the fourfold pattern of the program the
“HFN Process”2 and Enneatype Psychology are complementary
in regard to their respective “longitudinal” vs. “horizontal” or
cross-sectional emphasis, as well as in their orientation to the past
and the present. Meditation serves to infuse non-attachment into
this twofold therapeutic process, and meditation-in-relation sit-
tings serve as a bridge to transfer meditational experience into the
interpersonal and psychodynamic domain. The free association
laboratory contributes not only to the elaboration of childhood
material and characterological insight, but also to the processing

of the experience of ongoing community life.
The various free association exercises, in which, as I have
mentioned, the listener punctuates his silence with various inter-
ventions (which range from asking questions to sharing insight),
constitute the introductory portion of a therapy training practi
cum as the three yearly modules of the SAT Program unfold. They
are supplemented with group sharing and discussions, and the
process ends with a session of further sharing and evaluation. I
never repeat exercise descriptions or the exact exercise sequence,
but more informative than generalities will be a specific example;
and now I turn to the 1991 transcript extracts, including inter-
personal meditations, six free association meetings, therapeutic
training exercises, some of my “mini-lectures,” and some answers
to questions from the participants.
Before this, it only remains for me to explain the procedure
followed in regard to patient–therapist pairings: one in which
couples are asymmetric in their roles rather than one in which
people mutually play the roles of therapist and patient to one
another. A chain is created in which each person is a patient
to one of his neighbors and the therapist to the other (which
requires that partners change between two successive turns). I
have ascertained to my satisfaction that the asymmetry of this
situation is conducive to more transference, better therapy and
a precious opportunity for understanding the play of the ego in
the therapeutic relationship.
Though I don’t include here the sequence of meditation ex-
ercises that were interwoven with the interpersonal ones below,
I will mention that these were forms of vipassana, for the three
successive stages of the SAT Program focus first on the Thera
vada tradition, then on Zen and finally on Tibetan Nyingma
practices.
III. Preparatory Interpersonal Meditation
My presentation of interpersonal meditation began, as usual,

with a preparatory period of individual meditation, during which
the participants sit face-to-face to each other with eyes closed,
place their attention on their breathing, let go of muscle tension,
and dwell in peace seeking to silence mental chatter.
Then there follows a transition to the first interpersonal
exercise:
See to what extent you can allow this state of peace and si-
lence not to be disturbed when you open your eyes, so that there
is as minimal change as possible between having your eyes open
or closed.
Now, prepare to open your eyes as you continue in this
neutral state without an effort—in this regressive, restful state—
however you want to call it—which is easier to sustain with eyes
closed.
When you open them, then, continue in relaxation and, at
first, do not look at each other face-to-face. Look, rather, in the
direction of your partner’s chest. Or, better said, gaze without
looking. Let the world come in, letting visual impressions enter,
not having to do anything about them.
Now begin to open your eyes.
(And then, minutes later,) Look at each other face-to-face
now, but always in an attitude of not having to do anything about
what you see.
Just be aware of each other, feeling the presence of one an-
other; leave yourself in complete freedom, be at ease to remain
physically at rest. Relax your face and seek to remain mentally
silent.
Don’t let yourself be distracted from yourself while paying
attention to the other. Remain, before all else, present. It would
be difficult to explain what is it that we call “being here,” or just
“being.” It goes beyond seeing, beyond hearing, beyond feeling
your body. It has to do with knowing that you exist, yet feeling
it, rather than knowing it intellectually or, rather, knowing it

through a direct perception of being that is beyond sensation,
thought and even feeling.
IV. Listening as an Occasion for Meditative Practice
Now we move on to the exercise of listening to another.

I propose that, rather than thinking about what is being said,
you experiment with simply cultivating a state of presence in
freedom—without trying to do anything besides paying attention
to being there, intensifying your own presence before what you
see, hear and feel.
The task of the one who speaks will be one of self‑exploration
in a situation of physical relaxation and while sharing spontane-
ous thinking: getting to know oneself better through what free
association brings into awareness.
In other words: you observe what spontaneously surfaces in
your thinking—memories, plans, fantasies, etc.—and perhaps
now and then share some spontaneous insight prompted by this
ongoing observation.
But now we will introduce an important variant in the free
association technique: while the usual exercise consists in sharing
what crosses one’s mind with a minimum of censorship, we will
permit censorship! Only that in such instances the speaker will
acknowledge: “Now I am censoring” or “Now I am entertaining
a thought that I prefer not to share;” or “Now I will shut up until
I come to a thought more comfortable to disclose,” etc.
Instead of interrupting yourself because you think that you
don’t feel enough intimacy to share, just keep quiet; yet you
remain in contact with your own thought process, so that the
basic situation continues to be that of observing your thinking
and sharing it—only that the freedom to occasionally not share
is likely to protect the spontaneity of your thought and add to
your awareness. And, of course, by observing something of your
resistance to disclosure, you will surely understand more of your-

self and your neurosis.
The work of the one listening will be simply a continuation of
the interpersonal meditation already described: sustaining an at-
titude of relaxed and mindful presence in the contact situation.
V. A Refinement of Free Association:

Thought and Experience
On this second occasion we will introduce a new detail. The

one who speaks will not only conceive the exercise as one of
following the course of thinking, but, as far as it is possible, one
of being in contact with what happens at the feeling level too—
and to report on feelings every now and then. Whether speaking
about what happened yesterday or what will happen tomorrow,
whether the thinking reported refers to a scene with father, or
something seen at the movies—maintain ongoing emotional
contact with the situation of speaking, and occasionally include
reference to your ongoing feeling in the course of the exercise of
sharing what happens in your thinking. Thus you may say every
now and then such things as: “now I am feeling awkward before
you,” or “this moment seems artificial to me,” or “at this moment
I am concerned about how you are going to judge me,” or “I am
no longer interested in continuing with this chain of thought.”
It is a very well known fact (and widely acknowledged after
the advent of Gestalt therapy) that unfinished situations haunt
us, following us like phantoms. If one had no unfinished issues
from the past, one would be much more interested in the pres-
ent. When childhood problems have not been fully digested,
everything else becomes unfinished as well; important unfinished
situations from early life cause everything else to be lived only
incompletely.
The more one allows the mind to go where it wants to go, the
more it gravitates towards things that need to be processed, things
that are claiming attention. And while in life this persecution by

the past is a great interference, in the therapeutic situation it is
something good; the fact that the mind spontaneously turns to
the issues that need to be looked at entails a great potential. An
organic process develops as one goes from issue to issue, clarify-
ing things little by little, until increasingly fundamental issues
emerge.
According to this, then, the situation of free association is an
invitation to let go into that which has meaning for one. It is not
a matter of binding the mind (“the everyday I”) to what things
one should be thinking about; not even is it the case of binding
the mind to the present, but of trusting in the spontaneous process
that arises when it is allowed to go wherever it wants to go.
Perls, who used to say that he had “given his best years to
psychoanalysis,” opened a different path and ended up preferring
to use, instead of the free association exercise, what he at first
called “concentration on the present.” He humorously referred
to free association as “free dissociation,” for he was well aware
of how easily (voluntarily or half‑consciously) it may be turned
into an evasion; but I think that he was too rash in discarding the
method. One more thing: I suggest that, as you leave your mind
to its freedom while communicating what happens in the process,
you also observe how you resist doing so.
VI. A Retrospective Examination of Resistances
Now let us move on to the retrospective consideration of

your free association experience. I want to invite each of those
who just spoke to ask themselves how they resisted allowing their
mind its flow, or perhaps resisted communicating its content.
The ways of resisting are inseparable from the forms of
character. Some people will find, again and again, that they are
putting on a mask, rather than daring to be as they are. Others
will have occasion to see, before all else, their fear. For others the
problem will be a sort of deadness: it would seem that they are

carrying out the exercise according to the instruction, but it is as
if they were there not really present, or as if everything were too
mechanical. There are those for whom the exercise flows easily,
but words distract them from their inner experience instead of
serving them to discover more of their inner process; in spite of
a facility for expression, they may discover that they use words as
a smoke-screen. I do not need to enumerate every variation; one
form of resisting is excessive control, another an excessive distrac-
tion from the core of one’s experience, so that the mind stream
becomes too much the mirror of the environment, etc. Dedicate
some time now to the examination of the issue in dialogue with
the person who was your silent listener.
VII. A Different Way of Meditative Listening
Again I want to propose a brief silent experience in dyads. An

experience of contact. A brief silent demonstration of a different at-
titude that will then be sustained by those in the role of listeners.
We have been working on presence—on the sense of “I am
here.” Now I invite you to focus on the sense of the other’s pres-
ence. Even in meditation-with-an-object, when it is not a person
that is before you, it may happen that this object becomes more
real, becomes alive, so to say. The object is then no longer quite
an object for it takes on, to some extent, a subject quality. It is no
longer a “thing.” And if this is something that can happen with
a mantram or the image of a deity, so much more is it the case
with a living person.
This time I will propose, then, that you do the very opposite
of what you were doing during the earlier exercise. Or, rather,
something reciprocal: instead of practicing an intensification of
the “I am here” sense, practice intensifying a sense of “you are
there”: concentrate as much as possible on the existence of the
other as a person; the other as somebody who not only is there as
an object but as a living and conscious being, and as an awareness

that is looking at you. To quote Antonio Machado3:
The eye that you see
is not an eye because you see it;
it’s an eye because it sees you.
This capacity to see the other as a subject is something we

move in and out of, to some extent. Sometimes people seem alive
to us, sometimes they seem more like things. Buber has philoso-
phized on this in his beautiful book, I and Thou.4 He believed that
the saving factor for the human species would be that we could
discover and feel “you-ness.” For the “I” that sees “You” is not
the same “I” that sees things.
VIII. Free Association as an Occasion of Character

Analysis
Now I will propose to those who speak that they combine

free association with reflection on the subject of their own
personality or character. As you carry out the free association
exercise, you will have in mind how the different memories or
scenes of your life that present themselves involve specific roles,
particular ways of being in the world, various personality traits.
As you move from thought to thought in the associative chain,
then, interject certain observations concerning your own per-
sonality as it is reflected in the free association mirror; allow, for
instance, a measure of reflection on what similarity there may
be in your relation or attitude to various persons of your past or
present. I have already proposed that you use free association as
an occasion of reflecting on yourselves; now I am only specifying
the matter a bit further, in suggesting that you take the emerging
thoughts as an occasion of specifying what your character is like
and what moves you.
IX. Listening and Asking Questions
Now the therapist will observe the voice of the other and his
or her gestures, undertaking to stay in touch with the immediate
experience rather than his thinking. Above all, he will seek not
to be distracted from the exercise of perceiving the other as a
conscious subject, a “You.” Besides this, we will introduce a new
resource—which involves an additional degree of freedom. One
form of intervention will be permitted—and this will be that of
posing questions, but only very few questions. Pose them care-
fully, endeavoring not to interrupt the spontaneous associative
process—particularly when it is felt that the patient is getting
closer to something. Take this as an occasion of training in the art
of posing questions. Both the “when” and the “what” are impor-
tant. And take written note of the questions you make. For now
we will not make any rule in regard to what questions are made;
only be aware of what you do—so that we may comment on the
subject later, and we consider what categories of questions are
possible and what was behind those you chose to pose. Sometimes
we want to say something by means of a question. Sometimes we
are curious, and we want to know more. Sometimes we don’t
understand something that was said, and it is legitimate to want
a clarification—which often turns out to be useful also to the one
who has spoken.
X. I and You
On this sitting, once more, we will begin with closed eyes,

letting go of every intention to do this or that. Just being there,
and being aware of our body.
Let go of every intention aside from dwelling in a state of
restful ease.
I will ask you that, when you open your eyes, you seek to
sustain as far as possible this relaxed attitude, this passive and
even regressive state—not looking at the face at first, but at the

belly of the person before you—as if to evoke the state of being
centered in your own belly.
Just be there, without doing anything, letting visual impres-
sions come to your eyes without having to do anything about it,
and without making a special face to offer the person you are
with.
And with the mind at rest as far as possible, in an attitude of
not having to do anything, begin to concentrate in the sense of
“here.” Insofar as there is thinking, let your thinking be concen-
trated on this “I am here.”
And now combine this exercise with the previous interper-
sonal meditation—so you are at the same time attentive to your
own presence and that of the other; minding, at the same time,
the “I am here” and the “you are there;” or, better: “I am” and
“You are;” “I exist” and “You exist.” The exercise may be simply
summarized in the words “You and I.”
XI. Change Through Digestion of the Past
In free association—which is to say in allowing thought to

flow while sharing its ongoing observation with another—the
situation is akin to that of meditation; sometimes a spontaneous
elaboration of experience takes place as a result of which we
may find a new, different attitude in face of some memories and
impressions.
While we are there, paying attention to our own thought
process, something unfinished about the past comes to visit
us—karma makes itself present (for this is how we can call such
residues of the past that constitute a burden before we find an
alternative way of relating to them). When a given situation, be
it from yesterday, from last year or from childhood emerges, it
may happen that we understand it in a new way; and instead of
adopting the usual attitude, we place ourselves before it in a dif-

ferent manner, so to say. Perhaps we acknowledge that something
was not so, or perhaps we feel “what an idiot have I been,” or
we apologize in our minds to somebody—and then we can let go
of the issue.
I am only making explicit something that we all surely know:
that there is a way of working on ourselves—here as in medita-
tion—that is not effortful, but an elaboration of experience that
comes about through an allowing attitude, an openness and inner
freedom.
When we use the free association situation as a mirror to
develop self-awareness of our “machine” or little ego, sometimes
the outcome may be described in terms of the traditional concept
of “repentance.”
I imagine that most therapists today would not be fond of
this concept, since the word has been used to instill guilt in the
context of an authoritarian religiosity; but its true sense is that
which the Greek version of the New Testament calls metanoia—
mind change.
Let me tell you a story. It is the argument of a poem writ-
ten by Thomas Moore, which begins when an angel is expelled
from paradise. Schumann took this poem as a text to his oratorio
“Paradise and the Peri.” The Peri is a feminine angel that is cast
out from paradise until she successfully may accomplish the task
of bringing back from Earth the most precious thing in it. On her
first journey there she collects a drop from the blood of a hero
that has sacrificed his life in battle for his fellowmen. But the
cherub at the door of paradise tells her she must try again, and she
returns to earth. On a second occasion she brings back a lover’s
tear—a tear filled with a longing for union with the beloved. But
the cherub at the door once more tells her that there is something
more valuable than what she has thus far found.
At the end of the story she brings back a tear of repentance,
and only then the cherub tells her that this is the most important
thing. For we can only return to our home or higher nature

through repentance—in the sense of a turning around, through a
saying “not this way, but that.”
And so it is in the process of self-knowledge. We become
aware of things; we acknowledge things that we are not happy
about—until the moment comes when it is completely clear that
we have been fools, that our functioning has not been good, that
we have been mistaken. And then everything begins to fall by the
wayside. Of course the process can involve much self-disgust,
shame, guilt—but karma is being burnt in their painful flame—if
we can only stand it. And it is detachment in face of the here-
and-now that allows the burning, which in turn makes possible
the relinquishment of the past.
Simple self-observation, then, may lead to self-disgust, self-
criticism, boredom; yet these are not to be disdained—but taken
as signs of an incomplete process; when the sense of wrongness
becomes obvious enough, and bonds are severed, we become
more humorous: we can laugh at ourselves.
Next time, listeners, seek to bring to the exercise something
of the “I-You” situation that you attempted on the last occasion
of silence-sharing. You will intervene every now and then, sharing
some insight, but try to return to the neutrality of the meditative
attitude: evoking the presence of the other and your own without
getting lost in the words you hear.
Not only the listener but the speaker, of course, can produce
observations, every now and then. After a memory there may
emerge a reflection on the memory; but let it now be the witness
that does most of the reflection, much as in the situation of psy-
choanalysis. Rather than speaking of “interpretation,” however,
I prefer to describe the situation as one of “sharing intuitions”
concerning what is happening with the “patient.”
In doing so, it is very important to be tactful, seeking to be
minimally invasive of free association. Timeliness is as important
in this as conciseness, and I recommend that your tone of voice

or manner of wording your intervention be such that it does not
invite conversation. Let us make it a rule, too, that on listening
to such intuitions or “interpretations” the speaker will not feel
pressured to express agreement nor to argue (to prove that the
listener is not right). Let him, rather, just concentrate on observ-
ing the spontaneous effect of the therapist’s statement in the flow
of his thinking, letting the mind go where it wills.
XII. I and You in the Universe
We turn once more to meditation in pairs, so as to bring in

a new element.
Begin with closed eyes, as on previous occasions.
Let yourself be just as you are.
Leave yourself in peace, trusting in the regenerative forces of
your mind, the self-healing potential of your organism.
When you open your eyes, as before, seek to continue as
much as possible in the same state in which you find yourself—a
peaceful state of letting yourself go without trying to do anything
in particular.
Now begin to open your eyes, though not looking face-to-
face, feeling the presence of each other. The presence of the
other as a person and your own presence—with a minimum of
thoughts, as if your mind were only active enough to remember
the double task of concentrating in the sense of “I am” and in the
sense of “you are.”
Now raise your gaze, little by little, until you find the eyes of
the person before you, and keep up the counterpoint of “I-You”
in inner silence. Silent presence together.
And now also pay attention to the space around you, the si-
lent empty space. Get the sense of being a pair of persons in the
space of this room, to begin with; then, little by little, encompass

outer space as well, and explore the evocation of an ever widen-
ing space or until you get a sense of the horizon’s vastness.
And drawing inspiration from the sense of the horizon, seek
to go beyond, evoking infinity. Seek to contemplate immensity,
while always grounded in not-doing and stillness.
If there is any thinking at all, let it be absorbed in the inten-
tion of concentrating as far as possible in these three aspects of
the present: “I,” “You,” “Infinity.”
XIII. The Subject of Transference
Is there anybody here for whom the subject of how he feels

towards his or her “therapist” has not come up thus far? Is there
anyone who, during the work of the past days has expressed ei-
ther positive or negative feelings toward the therapist?
I see that for most it is the case that the relationship was in-
cluded among the things spoken about, and I would like to hear
something on the subject.
Participant: I think I have projected a lot. My interpretations
have been the expression of projection. And this leaves me with
the anticipation that I am going to continue to project—and then
I say nothing. It is like “next time I’ll think twice about it, before
speaking.” What do I do with this?
There are two answers to that. One is to bear in mind that the
main training a therapist can receive is the individual therapeutic
process. It consists not in learning techniques but in acquiring the
ability to see things as they are (instead of projecting) through
his or her own evolution. The second is that, however much you
may project and be mistaken, it is still useful for another to hear
what you “see”—if you only avoid turning your view into an
imposition. The professional psychoanalytic situation implicitly
embodies an authoritarian position, in which it is claimed that an
expert is saying to another that certain things are the case. Yet you
may, alternatively, take a position like: “I imagine (or it seems to
me) that such and such is the case with you,” through which you
leave the other in freedom. If it happens that what you think is the
case, excellent; if not, your statement will still be a stimulus for
the other to realize that it is not true. So a mistaken interpretation
is not serious in the context of a non-authoritarian relation.
Participant: in playing “therapist” this morning my client
thanked me, because he felt that he was receiving something, that
I was really helping. It was a matter of two or three minutes, but
it seemed to me that I went through thousands of situations. At
first, I reacted in a way familiar to me: not to believe it, through
de-valuation: “this is a projection,” or “it’s a fantasy,” or “I don’t
deserve it,” or “I’m just shit,” “I’ve tricked him.” Then I felt “I’m
wonderful,” “You’ve been lucky in finding me,” etc. He was com-
ing closer and closer, as if about to hold my hands; his gratitude
increased and I didn’t know what to do with that. In the end I
found something. I said: “I don’t know how to respond to this.”
At other times, not knowing how to respond led me to deflect. This
time, however, I remained there, without doing anything: neither
over-valuing nor feeling tricked, and that was very good. I was
there, and it was not I who was there. I didn’t know how to react,
but present I was. I felt very good.
Congratulations!
We are approaching the subject of transference. This is how
the analytic tradition refers to the feelings that develop in the
therapeutic relationship—particularly the positive sentiment that
develops progressively in the course of therapy.
The standard idea is that “positive” or “negative” transfer-
ence is a reflection of past attitudes and feelings vis-a-vis the
parents, but I think that the positive feeling that commonly de-
velops in a situation of intimate sharing is more than an echo of
the past. It is true that one grants another something of the trust
that originally was granted to a parent, and that one may become
childlike in one’s unguardedness and openness to see the other as

a benevolent ally. But I think the interpretation of present feelings
as a repetition of the past blinds us to the validity of these feel-
ings. For if we allow ourselves to be naked enough before another,
we soon have reason enough to develop true gratefulness—since
we give another an opportunity to be truly of help in a way that
does not commonly take place in ordinary life. After sharing in-
timacy and being accepted as one is, one has a present basis for
love toward another; and because of this one should be aware of
over-interpretation, and resist thinking that the so called “trans
ferential love” of the patient toward the therapist is only that.
Participant: it seems to me that free association goes beyond
linking thoughts to one another. Sometimes a chain of associations
comes to an end and then I have nothing further to say; then I
move on to what I feel, what I perceive. I don’t know whether this
is free associating, and whether this should be pursued.
Of course, and I usually specify this in the description of the
exercise. Even when in psychoanalysis the exercise is described in
a way that does not explicitly refer to the description of ongoing
experience besides thinking—there is a shared understanding that
this is so. It is like in Descartes’ “I think, therefore I exist.” That
cogito originally meant every kind of mental activity including
feeling and willing, and not just thinking: “I experience, I am
conscious of mental events—therefore I exist” would be a more
exact translation of Descartes’ intention. And that is certainly
the case in regard to “free association of thought.” It is a real
accomplishment when free association brings the subject to what
is called “primary process”—which is to say, to the freedom to
fantasize and get in touch with primitive emotions. Throughout
its history psychoanalysis shifted gradually from a predominant
interest in the past to an interest in the transferential situation
(to use that verbal formula again) in relation to “what is happen-
ing at the moment.” This shift culminated in Gestalt, of course,
where the past is de-emphasized vis-a-vis the “here and now.”
But something is lost if you become “imprisoned in the present,”

to use Polster’s expression—impervious to the call of unfinished
situations of the past and anticipations. There is a kind of double-
talk in Gestalt, in that you are invited to stick to the present when
the past haunts you, while again and again the therapist invites
you to re-live this or that situation, treating the past as if it were
present. In fact, while we have not cleaned up the past, it is nec-
essary to pay it periodic visits, one way or another. But it is good
to allow the mind, “free association” notwithstanding, to brake
the associative chain of thought to remain there where you want
to be. That is the best.
Participant: I told my therapist on the second day: “Please
shut up”—and since then I have felt much better. More fluid, better
in every way. And she has not said anything to me again.
You earned a greater freedom for yourself. Saying that left
you feeling at ease.
Participant: I have felt pushed. I had come to a deep sense of
emptiness within me. I was very much in contact with the feel-
ing of that. I was not trying to think about it—freely or in any
way. I sensed that by just dwelling in that state this could lead me
somewhere. To perceive this inner emptiness and not knowing well
where I am going; not exactly seeing—rather seeing underneath
the things I am properly “seeing” in reference to my character and
my behavior. Then there was a moment in which I felt a little
pushed. “Get into it, get into it.” And I resisted, I didn’t do it,
because I felt that what I needed to do was just to remain as I was
in the perception of that emptiness—painful as it was. And I feel
perplexed about this. And I also wanted to say that when I chose
you (addressing her “therapist”), I feel I seduced you. The first
thing I did was to try to seduce you, and I feel that I achieved it.
But it seems that you don’t feel happy about having achieved
it.
Participant: I appear to need to seduce the therapist first to
make sure that he will not harm me, and to conquer him so he is
for myself alone. Once he is seduced, he is mine. He is not going

to harm me any longer, and I can do with him what I wish. This
works against me, I am seeing, this seduction. I realize what is
happening but I fall into it, and it really goes against me.
Thank you for sharing that. Very well observed.
We will go further into the subject of transference, not
only in the sense of “good feelings,” but in that of “every-
thing that happens in the therapeutic relationship.” Whatever
the ego mechanism, whatever the interpersonal strategy of the
person, it, of course, will manifest in the therapeutic situation
as well. Instead of continuing to share as a group at the mo-
ment, however, I will ask you to take some time to write on
your own experience as patient and on the relationship that
you have established with your “therapist,” so that tomorrow,
during your customary meeting, you are as aware as possible
of the issue.
I don’t find a transcript with my exact description of the exer-

cise on the following day, but I am sure that it involved using free
association as a stimulus for reflection on the ongoing therapeutic
relationship. I am sure that I also made clear that the discussion
should focus on the patient’s experience without becoming a dia-
logue that breaks the asymmetry of the therapeutic relationship
(with its defined roles of patient and therapist). This is something
I arrived at after considerable experience in leading groups where
I had invited participants to switch roles. I have already explained
how the present manner of association between the participants
was designed to avoid this reciprocity. It is, of course, the stability
of the role over a series of days that permits the development and
spelling out of a transference reaction.
The last therapeutic exercise in the series was not one of free
association, but as an alternating monologue form of the aware-
ness continuum.
I have already described the “continuum of awareness ex-
ercise in a meditative context” in Gestalt Therapy: Attitude and
Practice of an Atheoretical Experientialism,5 in which the in-

structions to the speaker are to observe and translate into words
ongoing feeling-sensing-doing experience without indulging in
the promotion or expression of thoughts—i.e. memories, antici-
pations, reflections and fantasies.
In the present situation the exercise is not a monologue, as
usual, nor a dialogue, but what I call (in spite of its dialogic char-
acter) an “alternating monologue” to emphasize openness rather
than engagement.6 Though ordinarily it happens that the ongoing
“here-and-now” of participants is spontaneously interactive, the
instructions are simply to “say something of your own experience
at the moment.”
Why such an ending after a string of free association exer-
cises?
Because in the context of the SAT program the above-
described cycle constitutes the first segment of a three-part basic
therapy training program that emphasizes the therapeutic impli-
cation of authentic relation.
Since I claim that authenticity on the part of the therapist is,
along with self-insight, the best basis for therapeutic ability aside
from mere technical skill, I am appreciative of the fact that some
therapeutic situations don’t call for a dialogic exchange, and that
the analytic situation in particular capitalizes on an asymmetry.
I, then, have designed a group process in which the above
described exercises occur in non-symmetric patient/therapist re-
lationships; yet in view of the danger that the designated “thera-
pist,” hiding behind his role, may fail to grow throughout the
therapeutic process with the patient, I have emphasized the joint
participation of therapists and patients throughout the program
in a situation of group transparency, and I have made it a point
to break up the asymmetric relationship at the end of the series
of therapist/patient sessions. The dyadic awareness continuum
exercise, in this context, amounts to a means of transition to
mutuality after an interactional mode that, without such stimulus,
could foster a relation of authority or one-sided protection.
XIV. Results
I have regularly asked the participants for a personal evaluation

of their experience—both in the role of patient and in that of thera-
pist, and I have never yet been told that it was a loss of time.
Though I will be concentrating here on the results of the ther-
apeutic technique for those using it as patients, let me state from
the beginning that the experience of apprentice-therapists is not
negligible in aspects that go beyond mere “therapeutic training.”
It provides, rather, an occasion for a training in which the outer
or professional aspect goes hand-in-hand with an inner aspect
of personal development. The coming together of both may be
conveyed by the following report (from an E57 person):
1) Participant A8—As a therapist I have experienced a pleasant flu-

idity, a lightness that is not common for me in work situations. I
have experienced a de-dramatization of the therapeutic process, and
known a less punitive attitude—less in search of what is wrong in
the other; a more affectionate partaking of the other’s experience in
his problems or shortcomings.
A providential pairing of persons sometimes contributes to

the value of experience for one participant or the other, as in the
following report:
2) Participant B (E1)—For me it was important to be the therapist to

somebody who resembles my mother. Like my mother, she is proud
and seductive, and indeed I worked on the I-You. As she expressed
herself and showed herself freely as she is, this helped me very much
to see how hard it is to be like that—to understand the human side
of my mother, and what there is of her in myself. I have understood
my mother better as a human being.
For the patient, too, personality matching may be significant,

as in the report below:
3) Participant C (E1)—It was an interesting experience that helped

me see myself better. It helped me flow better to recognize in M.
somebody with a personality style similar to my own. I felt un-

derstood and well received, except during the last day, when she
was more distant. My work with her was a support during days of
elaboration. As I worked with her, I was particularly in touch with a
trait of mine that has been important throughout my whole life: the
tendency to worry; though I have always been aware of the suffering
entailed by my excessive worrying, on this occasion I feel I have seen
the issue better, and feel at the edge of change.
The most widespread outcome of the string of free-associ-

ation sessions has been, as may be expected, self-insight. In the
next report, the exercise was used to look into the pain of the
here-and-now, and it led to both an understanding of its child-
hood origin, and to the lingering of childhood pain behind a
personality trait:
4) Participant D (E3)—the possible withdrawal announced by

Claudio put me in touch with a possible abandonment, and with-
out realizing it I distanced myself from him. “Before he leaves me, I
leave.” Association to that: my father loved and abandoned me. In
face of fear, I miss out in the here and now. The past has separated
me from reality.
I looked into my fear of losing control. My association to that
was that if I don’t control there is no script, and I need to know what
to do. When I was little this distressed me, made me insecure—it was
easier to be adequate. I lacked self-confidence. In order to survive,
then, I adopt a certain model and I let myself be guided by it, because
it works and I put my trust in it. I am what I do.
In the context of a many-faceted program involving a sub-

stantial communal experience, the “free association laboratory”
(as I usually call it) constitutes a needed occasion for open-ended
processing of ongoing impressions, a time for elaboration or
“digestion.” Here is an acknowledgment:
5) Participant E (E4)—Free association allowed me to look at every-

thing that was happening to me in Babia9; it made it easier for me to
be here. I understood better things that I was writing in my journal,
and it helped me be more aware of the same issues during the rest of
the day. It was therapeutic.
Most effective were sessions in which a salient personality

trait became manifest in the therapy situation itself, as in the case
below when the patient enviously resented the therapist’s role:
6) Participant F (E4)—Already in my first sessions I dealt with my

need to bring down those who are above. After L., in the second or
third session, cued me in saying “your ego is hurting and you don’t
want to acknowledge it,” I discovered how I had never accepted the
superior position that I, at the same time, allowed both my mother
and my older brother.
In the best cases, transference insight brings along an attitu-

dinal shift:
7) Participant G (E4)—My therapist made me aware of how I de-

mand attention and how I tend to overwhelm others. I needed him
to look at me, and that he would give in to my seduction. I have
grasped the importance of respecting others, of not invading their
territory. I have learned to practice equanimity.
I want to illustrate with the following account, from a

woman, how every now and then a very few sessions of “free as-
sociation in a meditative context” can by itself constitute effective
deep psychotherapy:
8) Participant H (E9)—My experience of being before a man, com-

municating my inner experiences, caused me to feel naked, shamed
and terrified at the thought of showing how I truly am. Looking deep-
er, I discovered to my amazement that I had been living and thinking
as if I had been a man, or rather, a boy. I have not allowed myself to
feel a woman or a girl. There is no room in me for the subtlety, the
charm of seduction, I have not felt the innocence or the modesty of
an adolescent girl. I have also discovered that the great box that is
my chest is empty. I don’t know how to give tenderness, or love; or
how to receive it. Men are beings like myself, they are not over an
altar, nor are they so extraordinary as I had believed. I struggled so
much to top them or to invalidate them. They feel just like myself.
It is incredible to feel how my mind is growing, even though I am so
mixed up I have discovered what it is to relinquish controlling and
organizing what I say, just allowing myself to feel from my heart.
It is so wonderful, and I am filled with a love that I have never felt
before. For the first time in my life I feel ALIVE. I feel that the blood
flows through my body and it is as if filled by light.
Though not explicit in the account quoted, it was the support

of a meditative attitude that allowed for the fluidity and de-dra-
matization reported. The relevance of the meditation background
is made explicit in the report below (from an E410):
9) Participant I (E4)—I was S.’s therapist. I felt that meditation

practice helped me very much, and now it is easier for me to transit
between I and you, and vice-versa. The technique of dropping ev-
erything worked very well, not only in meditation but when I was
with S., and I found myself judging or interpreting, or when I was
judging myself for not listening well enough; I would then let all
these interferences fall away with the breathing, and I could listen
to him again.
The next retrospective further documents the observation

of how meditation impinges on the therapeutic process for both
therapist and patient:
10) Participant J—I felt overwhelmed in the anticipation of the

exercise, which I envisioned as a test of my ability. When I was
therapist for the first time, I felt I did it very poorly—I didn’t know
whether I was myself, whether I perceived the other properly or
projected. I ended feeling bad, lost and discouraged. As a client,
the same: impotence, inability to manifest how I felt. But after
beginning with the exercises concerning the chief personality trait,
the meditations, the face-to-face sittings and the experience of the
infinite, everything changed. I saw my client, for I could now look
at her eyes, and she allowed herself to be looked at, too; I could let
myself be seen, feeling that it is OK to allow myself being seen, and
feel the distance, too, the distinctness of one and another in space.
Since that experience everything changed. I felt a therapist and I felt
myself a patient.
11) As a last report I would like to register the statement of

a participant who affirmed that he was able to speak of things
that he has not dared to bring up in the course of three years of
psychoanalysis. It is not at all uncommon—but almost the rule
that in a group someone with extensive exposure to bona fide
psychoanalysis will report on such unprecedented openness.
XV. Concluding Remarks
In view of the traditional slow tempo of psychoanalysis, the

achievements of the brief and simple peer-therapy situation are
even more remarkable than what they seem in isolation. I think
that the fast results have been a consequence of a conjunction
of factors: the proposed refinement of the free association exer-
cise, the proposed techniques of intervention and their strategic
sequence, the theoretical remarks on the techniques employed,
which contribute to the motivation of participants, the prepara-
tion of sessions with periods of individual meditation, and the
bridge that interpersonal silent meditation allows between the
traditional meditation techniques and the neo-analytic situation
that I propose. I believe that an important additional element
has been the equalitarian relationship between the participants.
Another, the residential setting in an isolated place—maximizing
the intensity of the communal experience and minimizing distrac-
tions. Lastly—as I have pointed out already—the parallel intro-
duction of the group to the psychology of enneatypes gave the
participants a theoretical frame of reference comparable in func-
tion to that which is present in different psychoanalytic schools.
As some reports suggest, I believe that the excellent results of
the outlined program in terms of individual self-understanding
as well as its usefulness in terms of elaboration of the daily ex-
perience in the course of a joint communal experience are the
outcome of the whole curriculum in which free-association has
been embedded, comprising:
1. free association in a meditative context, combined with

2. basic techniques of therapeutic intervention; supported
by
3. meditation practices pertinent to the cultivation of a clear
and calm state of mind, and also by the “bridge” to the
meditation domain provided by
4. interpersonal meditation.
Though the set of practices listed above constitutes by itself
a substantial proposal, I don’t doubt that in association with an
introduction to the psychology of enneatypes (and the corre-
sponding characterological diagnosis) this curriculum becomes
an even more effective occasion of self-understanding.
The combination of the theory of protoanalysis with this work
in shared observation of thinking, has seemed such a felicitous
one, that I cannot but recommend it as a more potent curriculum
than one devoted only to either theory in the context of simple
self-disclosure, or free association in a meditative context.
At a time when human development becomes a pressing po-
litical issue and the irrelevance of traditional education to inter-
personal growth becomes manifest, it is natural that we wish for
a “self-insight” laboratory that might be imported into schools. I
hope that the present “package” may one day fill a need in cur-
ricula heeding the Delphic “know thyself.”
The potential usefulness of free association in education was
pointed out by Dr. Harold D. Lasswell decades ago, though I am
not aware that his proposition has been taken up. He writes in
his book, Psychopathology and Politics,11 that “It is quite possible
to train people to use free‑fantasy method with considerable suc-
cess and to outfit them with a device which they can use in the
ordinary problems of professional and private life.... The absence
of effective logic is a symptom of a disease which logic itself can-
not cure.”
Since “a totally different technique of thinking is needed to
get on with the task of ridding the mind of the distorting results
of unseen compulsion,” Lasswell rightly regrets that “schools
have found no place for the cultivation of this additional tech-

nique of thinking,” and that “our judges and administrators and
policy‑makers are turned loose on the world armed with faith
in logic and incapable of making their minds safe for logic.” Of
course, he is right in that “logical thinking is one of the special
methods of using mind, and cannot itself achieve an adequate in-
spection of reality, because it is unable to achieve self-knowledge
without the aid of other forms of thinking.”
While today free association is not the only way of self-
exploration that educational practice might import from psycho-
therapy, Lasswell’s contention is, I think, valid, and it has never,
that I know, been taken into account. Today it is not only in the
realm of psychotherapy that free association could be useful,
but—structured into a process such as I have demonstrated—it
could be of great use in educational settings, not only in view of its
value as a means through which individuals can help each other,
but in view of the difficulties of communication between students
and teachers in authoritarian environments. In such settings it is
much more likely that teenagers are willing to open up to each
other’s ears than to teachers by whom they are supposed to be
evaluated and who they are likely to mistrust.
With this I bring this chapter to an end. Though I set out to
just describe the technique of free association in a meditative con-
text, I ended up by not divorcing such account from the descrip-
tion of the didactic situation in which I have regularly employed
the technique and found it to yield such good results. I hope
that my exercise descriptions and outcome report may serve as a
stimulus for the application of the program in other educational
and therapeutic communities.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MUSIC AS MEDITATION
AND THERAPY
Music can be meditation for the composer, for the performer, and
for the listener; yet because not everybody is a performer and few
are composers, while everybody is a listener, it is on listening to
music that I will concentrate here.
Not only can music-audition become meditation through a
deliberate attempt and through the use of a particular technique
or another, but we may say that the best of musical listening is
already meditation, in that it involves a putting aside of one’s
“worldly self,” as well as an implicit intuition of spiritual content
in the music and a measure of identification with it.
Perhaps music would not be as important as it has been shown
to be throughout the history of humankind if it did not constitute
a sort of spiritual nourishment and an occasion for states of mind
that we regard as highly valuable. There are those for whom
music is already a spiritual vehicle and a healing influence, and
do not need further techniques. In what follows, however, I will
show ways in which we may deliberately experiment with musical
listening so as to actualize its spiritual possibilities, suggesting a
variety of “spiritual audition” experiences.
In speaking of “music as meditation,” I do not necessarily
imply that we are to use music as a substitute for silent medita-
143
tion; since audition, unlike visualization or active ritual, may be

considered as an extrinsically stimulated meditation, music has
been regarded by some spiritual teachers as something that we
should not abuse or give priority to in mind-training. Perhaps
comparable to psychedelics in its mysticomimetic or ecstatogenic
potential, music should be regarded as the “salt and pepper” of
meditation rather than its “bread and butter”: a special stimulus,
a sort of psycho-spiritual lubricant on which we should not be-
come dependent. Ideally, music should be a counterpoint to the
pursuit through silent meditation of that self-supportive and yet
nowhere-supported condition most characteristic of meditative
depth.
There are non-specific ways in which we may use music as a
stimulus for meditation. We may find it to be a useful background
for relaxation, for instance. The soothing content of music in
this situation is enhanced by the perception of a sort of sound
cocoon around the listener—a sound-filled area of space that is
most conducive to self-abandon into a “fetus-like” regression, in
which the action-oriented and grasping attitude of the ordinary
mind is put to rest.
Perhaps a more specific music-related kind of meditation,
however, is that which rests on the association of sound with the
divine (in the widest sense of the word). However true it may be
that light is the most frequent symbol of the divine in the codified
language of the religions, we may say that hearing is of greater
mystical import than seeing; and sound (and its modulation) is a
more potent vehicle for the sense of the holy than sight.
Because in listening to music we may be tempted to expect
that music “does it for us”—that is to say, we may be inclined
to passively (psychoanalytically speaking, “orally”) expect to be
filled, satisfied, and pleased by music to the point of ecstasy—and
because all of this is contrary to the attitude most conducive to
the deep musical contemplation, I think it is most appropriate to
begin the exploration of music as a devotional vehicle through
listening to sound itself rather than to musical compositions. For,
Music as Meditation and Therapy 145
if sound be Brahman (as the old saying shabda brahman affirms),

this is not something to which we are ordinarily attuned. The
Chandogya Upanishads tells us that Brahman is to be found in the
sound of fire that may be heard by closing one’s ears. I propose
this exercise as a beginning of this exploration: meditation on the
divine by means of sharply and subtly listening to the sound in
the depth of our ears.
Those who carry out this exercise will probably be inter-
ested in exploring another Indian practice that involves not only
listening but utterance: the evocation of sacredness through the
chanting of the syllable om. The most appropriate way of doing
so is by singing it in the lowest possible register (evocative of the
widest space), and in such a way as to generate as many harmonics
as possible (evocative of experiential density).
When we apply the principle of evocation through sound to
the listening of music proper, I think that the best practice to be
recommended for a Westerner may be that of listening to Indian
classical music, which unfolds in the ever-sustained presence of
its tonic (usually sounded by the tamboura)—a musical correlate
of the presence of the divine.
Aside from the suitability of Indian music for concentration
on the divine by virtue of its structure, where melody and rhythm
are supported by a drone, it is appropriate for another reason.
For some people at least, too strong an associative relationship
has been established between Western musical repertoire and
states of mind that lie within the bounds of the ordinary if not
the morbid. If it is true that lack of familiarity with the different
music language of Indian classical music can be a limitation at
the beginning, I think that the educational experience of con-
tinuing familiarization is worth its reward; for, as in the use of
ecclesiastical Latin and Sanskrit, Indian music can afford a purely
“liturgical” medium—i.e., one dedicated by us to evoke specifi-
cally extra-mundane experience.
Moving a step further in the direction of tapping the more
specific potential of music, we can now turn our attention from
listening to the divine “in general” to listening to particular di-

vine attributes: particular nuances of spiritual experience that
are reflected in specific compositions. This aspect of music is
well known in the Indian culture, where each traditional raga (a
sound sequence that constitutes the melodic seed-structure of a
composition) has relation to a particular angle of the sun above
the horizon and a specific internal state, and is considered appro-
priate to play only within certain hours. Obviously, since music
is evocative of internal states, we may employ it as a stimulus
for more deliberately eliciting these states, just as in the case of
mantra.
Yet our own musical heritage is rich in expressions of the
highest consciousness—much beyond, I think, what Western
seekers have become aware of or acknowledged. What Bach rep-
resents in the world’s musical history cannot be separated from
what he represents in the history of the expression of holiness,
no matter what limitations the composer may have shared with
his time and society (limitations from which not even the saints
are exempt). Thus, we may want to try Bach’s “Erbarme dich”
aria in the Passion According to St. Matthew as a stimulus to the
contemplation of Divine Compassion. Or we may seek to become
absorbed in the joyousness of the “Divine Child” through the Al-
legro of Mozart’s Sonata K. 283 in G.
Before saying anything further about the use of Western mu-
sic as a means of concentration on the divine, however, I want
to emphasize how appropriate it is to consider the best of what
is ostensibly “secular” music of recent centuries in the West as a
treasure of spiritual content. Although musica sacra and musica
profana went their different ways (the post-baroque was first ad-
dressed to the court and later to the bourgeoisie and then to all,
yet stayed outside the church), it is secular music that has truly
realized to the farthest the potential of music for expressing and
inspiring the divine.
The discrepancy between acknowledged and real spiritual
relevance has been, I think, the effect of one-sidedness in the
patriarchal Western world. Classicism and romanticism, which

followed the baroque, were not a step backward but forward in
the unfolding of consciousness—away from father dominance
in the psyche and in society: forward toward the feminine prin-
ciple, related to embodiment and the earth rather than to the
“heavenly.” We may say, in agreement with Hermann Scherchen
(in The Nature of Music1) that Beethoven was “the inventor of
European music,” for he used it as language for the expression
of a different realm of experience than earlier music. Music may
have always expressed “experience,” yet in Bach we may say that
this was the intuition of the “music of the heavenly spheres,”
the “music of the macrocosm,” as Totila Albert2 used to call it,
in contraposition to the “music of the microcosm”: truly human
music that Beethoven introduced and the romantics continued
to compose.
And there is Brahms.
Hans von Bülow used to say humorously that, of the “three
Bs” of music, Bach was the Father, Beethoven the Son, and
Brahms the Holy Spirit. I think that his statement contained much
truth, in that we find in Bach the highest expression of the sense
of God as father in Western music, while Beethoven expresses
the voice of the individual human or son throughout his heroic
quest, and Brahms has given us a supreme musical expression of
the “universal mother” and of mother love.
I think that we have tended to regard music as “mere music”
and its composers as “mere musicians,” when the fact is that mu-
sic is potentially a bridge between a heart that found itself and
the heart of the listener.
Notwithstanding the fact that Bach has been frequently
looked upon as an enlightened being and one of the “just,” the
case is very different with Beethoven, the rebel who wouldn’t
bow to the great of this earth or even to heaven itself (he expired
pointing his fist upward to the thunder that then reached his ear).
Because his music has generally been heard as “pure music”—that
is to say, a music resting in an abstract aesthetic perfection, and
perhaps rarely as the voice of one near to God—it may be useful

to read what Elizabeth Brentano quotes Beethoven as saying:
When I open my eyes I must sigh, for what I see is contrary

to my religion, and I must despise the world which does not know
that music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy,
the wine which inspires one to new generative processes, and I am
Bacchus who presses out this glorious wine for mankind and makes
them spiritually drunken. When they are again become sober they
have drawn from the sea all that they brought with them, all that
they can bring with them to dry land. I have not a single friend,
I must live alone. But well I know that God is nearer to me than
to other artists; I associate with Him without fear; I have always
recognized and understood Him and have no fear for my music—it
can meet no evil fate. Those who understand it must be freed by it
from all miseries which the others drag about with themselves.
Music, verily, is the mediator between intellectual and sensu-
ous life.
Speak to Goethe about me. Tell him to hear my symphonies and
he will say that I am right in saying that music is the one incorporeal
entrance into the higher world of knowledge which comprehends
mankind but which mankind cannot comprehend.
It is well known among musicians and music scholars that

Beethoven’s work can be divided into three distinct periods: in
the first it resembles that of Mozart and Haydn; in the second
it has been interpreted by N.W.N. Sullivan and others as the ex-
pression of a struggle with himself; in the third (from the Ninth
Symphony onward) he is most original and conveys the beatific
bliss and brotherly love of one who obtained liberation. Those
who want to absorb something of Beethoven’s consciousness in
this last period may explore, for instance, the “Song of gratitude
to God by one healing” from his penultimate quartet, Op. 132.
My appreciation of Brahms as a star in the musical heavens,
of no lesser magnitude than Beethoven and Bach, developed from
both my experience in piano playing and from the influence of To-
tila Albert, who regarded Brahms as an invisible saint gifted with
the destiny of a spontaneous psychological balance comparable to
that which Beethoven achieved only after long labors. Totila Al-
bert was one who, like Beethoven, experienced “self-birth” after
many years of struggle, and as homage to Beethoven he conceived
the re-creation of Beethoven’s spiritual experience in words. This
led to a tapping into of what he used to call “a music dictation”
that was not his interpretation but the reflection of an objective
content conveyed by the music’s structure. This dictation, which
began with Beethoven, led him to a similar “decoding” of those
in Beethoven’s lineage, culminating in Brahms, and it was Brahms
to whom he devoted most of his work from there on; for in him
he saw the most developed expression of the balance between
“father,” “mother” and “child” within the human psyche. While
Western music itself was to him the supreme expression of drama
in European culture and “the voice of Three”—i.e., the voice
of our threefold essence or soul—in Brahms, Totila Albert saw
an expression of an equilibrium representing an evolutionary
leap away from a patriarchal imbalance, so in the same way that
Beethoven reflected the French and other revolutions, we sense
that again a revolution of consciousness has taken place in the
transition from Beethoven to Brahms.
Just as the king-centered world of Bach reflects something
of the submissive psyche under authoritarian Christianity, and
just as Beethoven’s music reflects a rebellion against established
authority, in Brahms, it seems to us, we hear a perfect synthesis
between the classical and the romantic spirit. He is, as it were,
the fruit of the tree of which Bach is the trunk; a fruit (amidst
the foliage of romanticism) that was to fall and decompose as we
moved into a time of creation of new musical languages.
Not only is Bach present as a hidden spinal cord in Brahms’s
music, but so is the spiral pattern of Beethoven’s thinking and,
at the experiential level, the emphasis on individual experience
characteristic of music from Beethoven onward. Brahms’s music,
like that of Beethoven, contains the heartbeat, the accelerations
of the breath, that convey individual embodiment. Is this not the
expression of an imminently synthetizing gift and quality of the
mind, a gift of all-embracing reconciliation? At least it is obvious

that his is the ripest and healthiest expression of love in classical
music—a love that is both selfless and emblematic (I might say in
agreement with Totila Albert) of a harmonious interweaving of
father-mother-child love.
Thinking in this manner, I naturally want to include, in this
statement on music as a vehicle for psycho-spiritual unfoldment,
a recommendation of exploring Brahms further. I would recom-
mend, for instance, listening to the first movement of his early
Sextet Op. 18 as a “flying carpet” for a meditation on love—a
love at the same time erotic, cosmic and fraternal.
Or I would suggest becoming the two who dialogue (through
the music of orchestra and piano respectively) in the second
movement of his First Piano Concerto Op. 15.
More importantly, however, if you are interested in exploring
Brahms as a vehicle for consciousness extension, I suggest that
you seek a connection with the mind of the creator behind his
creations.
Seek the presence of Brahms’s mind beyond his notes, and
make Brahms your guide—opening your ears to what, without
words, he is saying.
PART III
CHAPTER EIGHT
FORMS OF MEDITATION
I. CHRISTIANITY
Though the High Priest and doctors of law did not accept Jesus
Christ as the Messiah, there is of course a continuity between
the Jewish and the Christian traditions, a continuity that Jesus
emphasized saying that he had not come to give new teachings
but to put old wine into new wineskins. There is every reason to
believe that Christ’s disciples thought of themselves as the minor-
ity of the best Jews.
The Mosaic “a tooth for a tooth” is usually contrasted to the
Christian “offering of the other cheek” (contrast pointed out by
Jesus himself in “The Sermon of the Mount”), yet the injunction
to love is universal to all religions, and it is deeply emphasized
in Judaism as well.1
Less apparent than the continuity between the Jewish and
Christian traditions are the influences from both Central Asian
and Egyptian esotericism, both through the person of Jesus (if we
take the visits of the Magi and the flight into Egypt as encoded
references) and through influences impinging on early Christian-
ity through its Hellenistic matrix and neo‑Platonism—itself a
vehicle of the Babylonian and Pythagorean heritages.
153
Alan Watts, who was once an Anglican priest, used to say that
Christianity was not the religion of Christ, but a religion about
the Christ.
Perhaps not even Islam produced such a violent inquisitorial
orthodoxy as Christianity in its “Sancto Oficio” during the post-
renaissance. The extent of its dogmatic institutionalization after
its assimilation by the Romans resulted not only in centuries of
anti-Semitism but in the persecution of the gnostics and other
“heretical” minorities, interrupted lineages, and eventually led to
the secularization of the religiously disenchanted Western world.
Yet it also constituted a link in the dialectical process of liberation,
expressed first at the time of the Renaissance and the Reforma-
tion, and later in the rise of democracies.
It is easy to think of the West as being further along into the
“Dark Age” than the rest of the world; yet it may be true that a
special potential inheres in our fallenness. As Franz Werfel ob-
served decades ago, the flowers of a tree don’t grow on its trunk,
but in the finest branches.
The word “meditation” is frequently employed in Christian

discourse with a meaning approximately equivalent to reflec-
tion. In St. Ignatius’ spiritual exercises it often appears with the
meaning of visualization—or more particularly that of a vivid,
imaginary re‑creation of scenes in the life of Jesus. In the broad
meaning I have chosen to give meditation in this essay, however,
I would say that the heart of Christian meditation is prayer.
When we ask ourselves what prayer is, or undertake to con-
vey our understanding of it, it may be well to not hasten to for-
mulate a unitary definition, but to dwell, first of all, on the extent
to which prayer is not a “single thing.” For beyond this “single
thing”—an orientation towards the divine—prayer constitutes a
vast world both in terms of what is attempted in it and what states
of consciousness may be part of its experience. As Kadloubovsky
and Palmer remark in regard to devotion:
Forms of Meditation 155
The manifestations of this life, as well as the richness of the

realm where it is revealed, are no less abundant and varied than the
manifestations of ordinary life. And if it were possible clearly to un-
derstand and to depict all that takes place there: hostile attacks and
temptations, struggles and victories, falls and recoveries, the birth
and strengthening of various manifestations of spiritual life, degrees
of general progress and the state of mind and heart corresponding
to each of those degrees, the interaction in everything of grace and
freedom, the sensations of God being near or far, the perception
of the power of God’s providence over all and one’s own final
and irrevocable surrender into God’s hand, the renunciation of all
one’s own methods of activity, together with a constant and intense
activity—if all this we repeat and many other things representing
an integral part of true life in the Lord could be clearly and plainly
described it would give a picture as attractive as it is instructive, a
picture like a journey round the word.2
Let us examine some dimensions of prayer through a con-

sideration of the Lord’s Prayer, central devotional formula in the
Christian world:
“Our Father, who art in heaven” is evocation, or invocation.
“Hallowed be thy name” is worship, adoration.
“Thy kingdom come” is the formulation of beneficient inten-
tion, and also involves a gesture of surrender to God as heavenly
King.
To say “Thy will be done” is distinctly to surrender, and the
complete statement, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven”
implies a loving intention towards the world.
In the statement, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive ...,”
there is not only an asking of forgiveness but a commitment to
forgive—an act of attuning oneself to a loving intention through
the intentional relinquishment of resentment and vindictive-
ness—and thus a form of inner work oriented to “loving one’s
neighbor as one’s self.”
“Give us this day our transubstantial bread” is a petition for
grace, and
“lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil” may be

read, not as a wish to be spared the situation of moral choice that
is inseparable from life, but as an invocation of divine assistance
in such situations—and thus an act of anticipated evocation, an
intention to remember God when temptation arises.
Let me now focus on some aspects of prayer more generally.

We may say that at the simplest level prayer is remembering
God, evoking the presence of the divine. This in turn may be
regarded an act of sacralization. Invocation may be regarded a
more vehement act of calling upon the divine and a more intense
focusing of the will.
Valid as the notion of prayer as concentration upon the divine
may be, it would be a mistake to regard the love of God as a purely
accessory motivating factor in the process—for love is not only a
vehicle but an end-point of the mystical endeavor.
Thus, in devotional prayer, the intensification of love is the
central focus. Such intensification of love in turn may be pursued
in a variety of ways according to alternative guiding images (the
love tinged with awe towards a majestic Divine Father or the
love-suffused receptivity evoked by the personification of the
divine as Mother of God, for instance), or according to alterna-
tive emotional gestures—such as gratefulness, glorification or
adoration. Just as the Tantric traditions speak of degrees of love
in which God is alternatively (and successively) approached as
father, mother, child, friend and lover, St. Bernard speaks of de-
grees in the love of Christ through the image of three kisses—on
the feet, a hand and the mouth.
Though inseparable from religious experience in general,
surrender may also be emphasized in certain forms or moments
of prayer, and is particularly present as the practice turns into
a life of inspiration and divine guidance. This in itself is hardly
separable from prayer as creative imagination, i.e. of contem-
plation of the fruits of inspiration and, in a broad sense of the
word, prayer as revelation.
Implicit in all of the above, and yet deserving a separate

discussion and emphasis, is the notion of relationship as some-
thing at the heart of prayer. Inasmuch as the divine is evoked
as person, we might say that prayer does not stop at the act of
invoking, but is eminently “dialogical.” I have heard it said that
Buber answered the question as to his belief in God saying that
if to believe meant thinking that God exists, he didn’t know, but
if believing meant being able to talk to Him, then there was no
question for him about it. Buber’s philosophy of relationship
can enrich our understanding at this point in that it invites us to
discern true relationship in the more ordinary meaning of the
word. Thus, most of our life of interpersonal relationships and
even uninspired prayer may be characterized—in Buber terms—
as involving a relationship between “I and it” rather than “I and
Thou.” Whereas true relationship involves the grace of an abil-
ity to experience the other as subject rather than as object, it is
Buber’s contention that the I that relates to an it is not the same
kind of I that relates to a you. Therefore, the successful evocation
of divine “Youness,” i.e. divine personhood, may bring us to our
own greater I, our own personhood.
Also we may speak of prayer as ritual in the sense that
traditional prayer involves formulas which amount to codified
guidance of the mind and span a wide array of internalized ac-
tions and sequences thereof. Among such actions particularly
important are the expressions of gratefulness and repentance,
and among traditional sequences or combinations of elements,
most important is the formula of holding in mind at the same
time or in rapid alternation the deepening of repentance and the
appeal to God’s mercy. Such is the formula of the “prayer of the
heart” stemming from the Egyptian desert fathers and central to
the Hesychast tradition.
The expression “prayer of the heart” makes reference to this
being a prayer without words in which the mind is united to the
heart, that is to say, “the mind understands and sees clearly what
is said in words and the heart feels what the mind is thinking.”3
In addition to attention to both the mental and affective as-

pects of prayer, the Hesychast tradition seeks to make the prayer
of the heart continuous, and recognizes that after the experience
of “strenuous” prayer (when we strive for it), prayer may become
“self‑impelled.”
When the spirit takes its dwelling‑place in a man he does not

cease to pray, because the Spirit will constantly pray in him. Then,
neither when he sleeps nor when he is awake, will prayer be cut off
from his soul; but when he eats and when he drinks, when he lies
down or when he does any work, even when he is immersed in sleep,
the perfumes of prayer will breathe in his heart spontaneously.4
Also in the introduction to The Art of Prayer, Kallistos tells us

that “The words ‘Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy upon me,’
are only the instrument and not the essence of the work, but they
are an instrument that is very strong and effective.” The name
of the Lord Jesus is fearful to the enemies of our salvation and a
blessing to all who seek Him.”
A greater focusing of the will involves a form of prayer that
we may define as concentration on the divine. It is the concen-
tration of the mind upon the supreme that leads the mind to the
silence of the contemplative state. Religious aspiration serves as
a motivating factor in the process.
Contemplative prayer
The recommendation in the Hesychast tradition, of not

letting any concepts or visions stand between the individual
who prays and God, brings us into the domain of contempla-
tive prayer. Though different mystics have classified the stages
in contemplative prayer in different ways, I agree with Evelyn
Underhill’s proposition that we consider three basic stages in its
development: a stage of turning inward and away from the world,
a stage of internal silence, and contemplation proper. Whereas
at the lower end of the ladder it is the element of deliberate dis-
cipline that is most apparent, in contemplation proper it is the

spirit’s unfolding of the experience that is most striking.
“The condition of all valid seeing and hearing upon every
plane of consciousness, lies not in the sharpening of the senses
but in the peculiar attitude of the whole personality,” remarks
Underhill, “in a self‑forgetting attentiveness, a profound concen-
tration, a self‑merging which operates a real communion between
the seer and the seen—in a word in Contemplation.” To illustrate,
she proposes the following exercise:
Look, then, at this thing which you have chosen. Willfully yet
tranquilly refuse the messages which countless other aspects of the
world are sending; and so concentrate your whole attention on
this one act of loving sight that all other objects are excluded from
the conscious field. Do not think, but as it were pour out your per-
sonality towards it: let your soul be in your eyes. Almost at once,
this new method of perception will reveal unsuspected qualities in
the external world. First you will perceive about you a strange and
deepening quietness; a slowing down of our feverish mental time.
Next, you will become aware of a heightened significance, an in-
tensified existence in the thing at which you look. As you, with all
your consciousness, lean out towards it, an answering current will
meet yours. It seems as though the barrier between its life and your
own, between subject and object, had melted away. You are merged
with it, in an act of true communion: and you know the secret of its
being, deeply and unforgettably, yet in a way which you can never
hope to express.
Recollection
While the contemplation of nature has as its material sensory

experience, “The contemplation of Spirit, as it seems to those
who practice it, requires a deliberate refusal of the messages
of the senses, an in-going or “introversion” of our faculties, a
“journey towards the center.” The Kingdom of God, they say,
is within you: seek it, then, in the most secret habitations of the
soul. The mystic must learn so to concentrate all his faculties, his
very self, upon the invisible and intangible, that all visible things
are forgotten: to bring it so sharply into focus that everything else

is blurred. He must call in his scattered faculties by a deliberate
exercise of the will, empty his mind of its swarm of images, its
riots of thoughts. In mystical language he must “sink into his
nothingness: into that blank abiding place where busy, clever
Reason cannot come.”5
“To mount to God” says the writer of De Adhaerendo Deo,
“is to enter into one’s self. For he who inwardly enterth and in-
timately penetrateth into himself, gets above and beyond himself
and truly mounts up to God.”6
In the words of Boehme: “If thou desirest to see God’s Light
in thy Soul, and be divinely illuminated and conducted, this is the
short way that thou are to take; not to let the Eye of thy Spirit
enter into Matter or fill itself with any Thing whatever, either in
Heaven or Earth, but to let it enter by a naked faith into the Light
of the Majesty.”
Quiet
When the self closes its door to the outer world and rests in
peaceful silence, Underhill continues, in the place of the struggles
for complete concentration, which mark the beginning of Recol-
lection, there is now “a living, somehow self‑acting recollection—
with God, His peace, power and presence, right in the midst of
this rose of spiritual fragrance.”
She writes of quiet as a sacrament of the whole mystic quest:
“the turning from doing to being, the abolition of separateness
in the interests of the Absolute Life,” and she distinguishes two
aspects of an Orison of Quiet. An aspect of deprivation, or emp-
tiness that begins it, and the finding of something, “something
omnipresent, intangible like sunny air”—though she acknowl-
edges that some mystics, like Eckhart, prefer to emphasize the
emptiness and even when he is speaking of the deeper stage of
contemplation, speaks of a “divine dark” or an “ecstatic depri-
vation.” Even in Eckhart, however, contemplation is a state in
which the human soul is united to its “ground” which is “Pure

Being.” The unknown author of The Cloud of Unknowing says,
speaking of this prayer of Quiet: “Think no further of thyself
than I bid thee do of thy God. The best and noblest way in which
thou mayst come into this work and life is by keeping silence, and
letting God work and speak.”
Contemplation
Merton defines true contemplation—i.e., “infused contem

plation”—as “a supernatural love and knowledge of God, simple
and obscure, infused by Him into the summit of the soul, giving
it a direct and experimental contact with Him.”7
In her account of the degrees of prayer Underhill writes:
“In the preparative process of Recollection, the unruly mind is
brought into subjection. In “Quiet” the eager will is silenced, the
“wheel of imagination” is stilled. In Contemplation, the heart at
last comes to its own—Cor ad cor loquitur.”8
Although the most striking aspect of contemplative experi-
ence is its ineffability, here are some classical testimonials.
St. Augustine in his Confessions states: “My mind in the flash
of a trembling glance came to Absolute Being—That Which Is.”9
Pseudo‑Dionysius, in the 5th century, writes in his Mystical
Theology: “Do thou, in the intent practice of mystic contempla-
tion, leave behind the senses and the operations of the intellect,
and all things that the senses or the intellect can perceive, and all
things which are not and things which are, and strain upwards in
unknowing, as far as may be, towards the union with Him Who
is above all being and knowledge. For by unceasing and absolute
withdrawal from thyself and all things in purity, abandoning all
and set free from all, thou wilt be borne up to the ray of the divine
Darkness that surpasseth all being.”10
Aquinas speaks of contemplation as a condition in which the
Divine may be perceived by means of the Light of Wisdom—the
first of the gifts of the Holy Spirit: “The gift of Wisdom goes
forward to a (so to speak) deiform and (as it were) explicit con-

templation of the articles which Faith holds after a human manner
(as it were) under a veil.”
In the description of St. Francis of Sales the emphasis is upon
the experience of melting or dissolving: “My heart melted when
he spoke (Canticle v. 6). As melted balm that no longer has firm-
ness or solidity, the soul lets herself pass or flow into What she
loves: she does not spring out of herself as by a sudden leap, nor
does she cling as by a joining or union, but gently glides, as a fluid
and liquid thing, into the Divinity Whom she loves.”11
For Pascal, however, it was not water but Fire that constituted
the quality of the divine epiphany that visited him in November of
1654. In the scrap of parchment that was found, after his death,
stitched to the lining of his doublet, he had drawn a flaming cross
and written:
FIRE
God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob,

Not of the philosophers and the learned.
Certitude. Joy. Certitude. Emotion. Sight. Joy.
Forgetfulness of the world and of all outside of God.
The world hath not known Thee, but I have known Thee.
Joy! Joy! Joy! Tears of joy.
My God, will Thou leave me?
Let me not be separated from Thee for ever.12
In connection with the shifting of awareness from the outside

to the inside, Bishop Ullathorne writes: “God is everywhere, but
not everywhere to us. There is but one point in the Universe
where God communicates with us, and that is the center of our
own soul.”13 And Augustine Baker has pointed out the paradoxi-
cal convergence of quiet and movement in contemplative experi-
ence through the metaphor of an eagle’s flight: “Like a soaring
of an eagle, when the flight is continued for a good space with
a great swiftness, but with great stillness, quietness and ease,
without any waving of the wings at all, or the least force used in
any member, being in as much ease and stillness as if she were
reposing in her nest.”14
Communion
Pivotal, of course, in the domain of Christian meditation (in

the widest sense of this term) is communion. Communion with
God the Father through God the Son, through a sacramental act
of re‑creation, a theurgic act mediated by a symbol. To this it
should be added, however, that Christ is not only symbolized in
the wine and in the bread, but manifested in them. (It is appropri-
ate to think that we take the symbol not only as an intellectual
object but as vehicle.)
By what is Christ symbolized in communion? At the literal
level, by man‑made nourishment—for neither bread nor wine
are fruits of the earth, but the end products of a transforma-
tion. We commune, then, with the spirit of leavening, with the
spirit of fermentation that both destroys the freshness of the
fruit’s juice and gives it a new taste and intoxicating potential.
Wine communion, inherited from the Jewish Kiddush, also has,
of course, an implication of surrender or dissolving of ordinary
consciousness into an oceanic mystery. If we decode “bread”
and “wine,” then, we find a reference to the transformed in-
dividual, the perfected one, who, like wheat, has been pulver-
ized and recomposed: the cosmic Christ echoed in the intrinsic
Christ‑nature of humans.
II. JUDAISM
If the hypothesis of a spread of civilization from Mesopo

tamia is valid, we must acknowledge Sumerian spirituality as the
root form of the high religions. The biblical statement to the ef-
fect that Abraham came from Chaldea, along with the Sumerian
origin of some biblical texts, indicate a continuity of Judaism with

a Mesopotamian source that is de-emphasized in Judaism, and I
think that it is in Sumer that the art developed of turning history
into myth. Without wanting to minimize or question the idea
of sacred history (i.e., history as divine and as a chronicle of or
relationship to God) much of the old testament may be regarded
as an elaboration of history, in which the narrative may be read
at non-literal levels of meaning.
The rise of a Jewish gnosticism with the formulations of the
Kabbalah is a development that may be viewed as comparable to
that of the formulation of Vedanta after the rise of ritual religion
in India. The Kabbalistic inheritance became an integral part of
the Hasidic movement that flourished in Eastern Europe some-
time after the expulsion of the Jews from Spain and constituted a
liberation in some ways comparable to the Protestant revolution
in the Christian culture. While Protestantism was a movement of
reform that brought Christianity out of the staleness of an exces-
sive allegiance to the old orthodoxy, we may say that in Jewish
spirituality the Hasidic movement represented a liberation from
an authoritarian over‑seriousness—though not against any outer
authority, and was not revolutionary in doctrine. It represented a
Dionysian return to spontaneity and joy, entailing an affirmation
of life that contrasted with the life‑denying aspect of a traditional
transcendentalism—that may be suspected of contamination with
the anti‑life and anti‑eros forces within the culture.
It has been asserted that the birth of Kabbalistic movement in
medieval Spain was related to the Sufi influence at a time when
Jews and Arabs were in close contact during the Golden Age of
Sufism—something which is further suggested by the close kin-
ship between two fundamental gnostic symbols in Sufism and
the Kabbalah respectively—the nine‑fold “enneagram” and the
ten‑fold tree of life (also based on the symbolism of three and
seven)—itself the echo of an Assyrian Tree of Life.15
Learning Torah
Though the word “learning” evokes more an intellectual

rather than a meditative process, the boundary between the study
of texts and contemplation is fuzzy. Fuzzy enough to include the
study of “learning Torah” in this survey of meditation forms. Jew-
ish religious literature is rich in commentaries which are reputed
to reflect the spiritual elevation of the commentators, and in this
it is comparable to the Indian literature of Shastras or commen-
taries to the Sutras.
Prayer and blessing
It is from Judaism that the Christian tradition of prayer de-

rives and the same elements may be recognized in it: the spectrum
of the forms of love of God, the invocation of divine mercy and
blessings, atonement, surrender, etc. including the limitless vari-
ety of possible dialogue between the individual and the divine.
Not only in prayer is God’s blessing invoked: The blessing of
God is not only a substantial part of prayer life, but part of ritual
formulas surrounding eating, the lighting of candles on Shabbat
and holidays, meeting a sage, experiencing something new and so
on. Since it is the essence of divine activity to bless, it may be said
that this traditional emphasis in blessing represents an implicit
invitation to identify with the Divine, or at least an identification
with the god‑like prototype according to which, Genesis tells us,
we were created.
Remembrance
An aspect of prayer intrinsic to every religious tradition and

yet particularly explicit in its emphasis within Judaism is the re-
membrance of God. Says Rabbi Sadock Ha Cohen of Lublin, “the
essence of the whole Torah is the remembrance of God; the rest is

just myriad counsels for every time and place and situation, how
to come to that remembrance.” In his chapters on the subject in
Jewish Spiritual Practices, Yitzak Buxbaum16 further quotes Rabbi
Ha Cohen saying, “everything that happens to a man and all cre-
ated things are to remind him that there is a creator.”
Aids to remembrance are having God’s name within sight
and the repetition of a holy sentence, blessings, and praises. Even
praying for our needs is a means for spiritual remembrance. In
the meditative situation proper (as distinct from daily life) re-
membrance involves the pursuit of continuity of attention on
the divine—much as in the Hesychast tradition; “You should
remember your love and fear of God always so that your mind
may not be diverted from Him for even one minute and at every
moment you should imagine that you are standing before Him to
serve Him,” (Beit Middot quoted in Buxbaum).
On Devekut and Shiviti
Remembrance of God is not anything different from having

God always before one’s mental gaze or “cleaving to” God, yet
both “cleaving to God” (Devekut) and Shiviti (having God before
one) are regarded independent Mitzvot—commandments, goals
or—in America today—spiritual techniques.
Echoing Ibn Pakuda who spoke of “duties of the heart,”
Zalman Schachter calls Devekut and Shiviti “commandments
of consciousness” since they do not involve any other action. In
Gate to the Heart17 Schachter writes:
One of those mitzvot that we can accomplish by means of

Kavannah alone is DEVEKUT, “U Ledavka bo,” “And to cling to
God.” Another one is SHIVITI, “Shiviti hashem lenegdi tamid,” “I
set God before me always.”
Q: How do I meet God?
If I want to get to a place where God is, I start myself with the
question, what is Kavannah?
Kavannah is usually translated as “intention,” but even more,

Kavannah is like I’m driving someplace. And the Kivun, the direc-
tion in which I’m driving, what I’m driving at, is very much what
Kavannah is. It is a clarification of intent.
Q: Can this Kavannah, this intention, be something in my daily
life, or is it only for prayer?
Let me explain to you the function of Kavannah. Kavannah
means intention.
Our intention is always free. There is nothing that can obstruct
your intending. Even if the whole world coerces you into a pat-
tern of actions, you can always “intend” whatever you want. For
instance, you sit in the dentist’s chair. He drills and you feel a sting
of pain, but you can “intend” this pain as an offering of love.
You offer to G-d the moment of pain, intending to suffer it for
Him. You might put it in this way: “Ribbono shel Olam!—You are
and Your universe is good. The All is filled with Your mercy and
goodness, as is the pain I feel. I cannot bring you any other sacrifice.
Please accept this moment of pain as a love offering from me.”
Or you work in your day by day endeavor. You do whatever
you must do, and you intend: “G-d of Law and Order. You have
ordained work for humankind. In doing—I intend to do Your will.
I wish to cleave to You in this action.”
Or you travel and time is taken up by it. You lean back and wink
at Him in your mind as if to say: “Sweet Father-Mother, I enjoy
Your presence! The rhythm of the wheels, the fleeting scenery, are
all nothing but You. You contain me and my vehicle. I will be careful
in travel for this is Your will. Guard my going out and my coming
back. I am secure in You.”
Q: What about Kavannah in prayer?
So if I’m starting to Daven, and if my davening is in order to get
a burden off my back, to be done with my obligation to pray, then
it’s very clear what my intent is. Therefore my function is going to
be, according to that intent, to be “Yoitze,” to be clear of my obliga-
tion, so that I will rush through the thing, and be done with it.
Now, very few people are going to admit that that’s their intent,
but the truth is that very often that’s just the intent, the intent is to
be “yoitze.” Okay. When you say “to be Yoitze,” it means, “to fulfill
one’s obligation,” but the Hebrew phrase is very telling: “To extri-
cate oneself from the grasp of obligation,” to be “Yoitze Chovato.”
That means that I’m playing tag, as it were, and then I’m finished
with it, I’m done with it. Now the truth is, that there are days in
which this is all I can come up with. To be Yoitze.
But, when I start saying to myself, “Is this really your intent?”
then I step back. I am ashamed to say that. So then I will say, “No,
my intent is to contact God.”
One of those mitzvot that we an accomplish by means of kavan-
nah alone is DEVEKUT, “U Ledavka bo,” “And to cling to God.”
Another one is SHIVITI, “Shiviti hashem lenegdi tamid, “I set God
before me always.”
Devekut is a main work and state in the holy life. It is the other
hand to Shiviti, each one can help the other to be activated.
The Besht, Israel Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Hasidism, often
spoke of Devekut as part of a triad: Shiflut (humility), Hitlahavut
(fervor) and Devequt.
We do all of these with Kavannah. They don’t require any
bodily actions.
DEVEKUT is to cleave to God, to stick to God, to be cozy with
God, “Ledavka Bo;” “Dibbuk haverim,” the closeness of friends.
If I want to take something that has broken apart and I put on
crazy glue and I stick them together, then they become one again.
So a way of saying “one-ing” with God would be to say “Ledavka
Bo,” to stick together with God. “SHIVITI HASHEM LENEGDITA
MID,” to set the Lord before me always, is to see almost all of reality
as divine.
Q: I understand the definitions, but how do you achieve them?
Now let’s go first to Devekut, or “U’ledavka Bo.” Ontologically,
I am always in Devekut; how could I exist unless by God making
me? So, ontologically, there is no lack of devekut. But psychologi-
cally I am not always in devekut. DEVEKUT is to affirm that a state
of grace is always to be aware of it.
Devekut is just this affirmation: Here I am, and I am not sepa-
rate. So, the liturgy comes with this wonderful exercise of “Not
Two,” Vehu Echad Ve’en Shemi, there is not two, I am not separate.
So to go into this place of “not two” is the first deep connection of
DEVEKUT.
Liturgical creations
A characteristic emphasis in the Jewish tradition—and a

particular treasure in its contribution to “the technology of the
sacred” has been its liturgy—the design of guided and fixed

compositions made of prayers and sacramental actions—such as
constitute the daily morning, afternoon and evening prayers or
those of the Shabbat. As is well known, the Shabbat is not only a
time of prayer but a time of rest that purports to fulfill the most
important Jewish religious commandment, and commemorates
that day of rest that Jewish mythical cosmogony describes after
the six days of creation.
The Shabbat is not only a day for the contemplation of divine
things and for devotion but for interpersonal peace, enjoyment,
gladness and even sex. In Fragments of a Future Scroll18 Reb
Schachter speaks of the Shabbat as a complex of actions better
learned non-verbally than in writing, and proposes that living the
Shabbat properly involves learning a forgotten language:
If we only knew the vocabulary of that language!

Let us try to teach you something of the body
Hebrew or body Yiddish associated with the Sabbath.
The language we are about to learn is emotive and rich in
affective imagery. It is proprioceptive and not conceptual or logi-
cal. It does not refer to an external object. It is a language not for
the reason but for our imagination as it becomes translated into
muscular responses. It is a language in which we must expect an-
thropomorphisms. In this tongue, God is a man, fatherly, kingly;
and the Sabbath is a bride, a woman, a queen and very much the
ideal mother.
While we do not reify our projections, still God as King, and the
Sabbath as Queen are real symbols, living and life-giving symbols,
we do not imply that our reason is inadequate. Man’s reason is
not weak; it is very strong. It is the greatest gift that God has given
us. But reason is unaware of our empirical language, the language
which we now have to acquire in order to be able to enter into the
Sabbath. For, like the man in Kafka’s tale, “Before the Law,” we may
be condemned to spend our entire life at the gate, our very own
gate, and never enter into the Law unless we acquire this language
which I call body Hebrew or body Yiddish.
In this language, weekdays are masculine, or at least we are
masculine in our response to weekdays, for even women tend to be
masculine in their weekday response. During the week, we husband

the earth, we husband our strength. Then comes the Sabbath and
we become feminine. We receive, we conceive, we are impregnated
with a supernal soul, and we give birth to a tenderness.19
He does make some specific suggestions for a “Shabasdig

consciousness,” though:
1. Hurried Exertion. This is a preparation. The mind must be

filled with an urgency. Soon it will be Sabbath! One works up sweat.
One does not eat a full meal at noon in order to work up hunger
and not merely an appetite. To work up this sweat, according to
some of our spiritual authors, is considered far more purifying than
a number of fast days, because by this muscular exertion, the entire
body enters into the service of God.
2. Clean the house, even if it is already clean, or very little is left
to put into order. Bathe in honor of the Sabbath, shave or fix your
hair. Before this, if you can, take a dip in the lake or in a pool.
3. Now slow the pace down deliberately. Hum a melody slowly.
Change your clothes; choose some items that you never wear ex-
cept on the Sabbath. Put some money aside for zedakah (charity) to
be deposited in a zedakah box before the kindling of the Sabbath
lights.
4. Sit in chapel or outdoors alone, not talking. Do t’shuvah for
the week. Let the week’s events pass before your mind’s eyes. Sift
the good from the bad, hold the bad up to God and ask to be for-
given. If there is anyone whom you angered during the week, seek
him out, ask his forgiveness, become reconciled to God and man.
Breathe deeply, recollect some more and center down to the para-
sympathetic mode of consciousness. Be careful to shift your senses
to the Sabbath mood with a feeling such as “oh ecstasy, I am alive.”
Practice what Professor Heschel calls “radical amazement.”
5. Light the candles, study a little Torah. If a particular historic
personage intrigues you especially, invite him or her for the Sabbath
to be your guest in spirit.
6. Accept upon yourself the rule of no weekday talk, no pleas-
antries, no “lines.” If possible, shift to Hebrew. Franz Rosenzweig
found the practice of “no weekday talk” especially helpful on the
Sabbath.
7. Come early for the service and, prior to the service, pray for
the ability to serve God in the service.
8. Serve—participate—respond—read out, not in.
Address Him. During moments of quiet be passive and don’t

force any particular meditation on the Sabbath. This forcing you
may do during the week. Allow the liturgy to speak for you; give
it assent by investing energies into chanting, into reading, into
silence.
9. Intend to enter into the celebrant’s kiddush, thus giving
testimony to God’s Blessed creatorship. Drink the wine as a special
gift from the hand of Mother Sabbath. When you seat yourself at
the table, wash your hands and eat the hallah after the blessing.
Relish the eating as a Mizvah, a holy act, dipping the bread in salt
first. Eat with little taking except things pertaining to the Sabbath,
to Torah and to prayer.
Sing slowly and benignly; don’t shout or rage in military or
choreographic fashion. During the meal intend to be like a priest
who offers the mineral, animal and vegetable kingdoms to God.
Imagine and intend that you are the offering and the table the altar.
Enjoy the food by chewing it slowly, and give thanks for the sense
pleasure with which God has endowed the body.
10. Chant some of the table hymns out of the prayer book. Then
recite the grace after meals slowly and gratefully. Be present in every
word of the Birkat Hamazon. Take a little silent walk with a friend.
11. When the whole evening is over, say your going-to-bed
prayers. Once you pronounce the words, “Into Thy hand,” do not
speak again until you wake up in the morning. In your thoughts
give thanks to God for the Sabbath up to now. Settle down into a
relaxed sleep, all the while being aware that you are being held up
by the “Everlasting Arms.”20
I always understood Shabbat as a time for cultivating tran-

quility above else, and spoke periodically about the spiritual rel-
evance of intermittent rest from the agitation of ego pursuits and
dedication to the spirit of non‑doing in daily life, for it seemed
to me that loving dedication to the Highest and to the subtlety
of the teachings emerge spontaneous tendencies of the mind not
agitated by the world or by worldliness, while giving oneself to
them, in turn, intensifies the spirit of non‑doing. When I spoke
about Shabbat as a practice in non‑doing at a recent gathering in
Jerusalem, however, somebody remarked that this was scarcely
congruent with the attitude that he saw in most people ap-
proaching the holiday—dutiful, preoccupied and excessively task
driven. I suppose that if the spirit of the religious feast has been
partially lost, all the more important it is to reassert it.
Beyond verbal liturgy and rest, other forms of non‑verbal

ritual are prominent in the Jewish tradition, interwoven with the
verbal and subtle aspects of the ceremonies, such as the wine and
bread, and ceremonial meal and with their emphasis in rest and
ease of the Seder, the swaying of standing prayer or evocative ac-
tion (such as leaving the house to stay in a tent during the festival
of Succoth), or body awareness (as in the practice of putting on
Tfillin or phylacteries).
Tfillin are ritual cubic boxes containing diminutive scrolls
with ritually inscribed passages of scripture inside them—which
makes them into geometrical repositories of holiness. One of
them is placed on the upper forehead and the other on the biceps
of the left arm during times of prayer or recollection. Each of
these is equipped with leather straps that complete their function
of bringing specific areas in the body into the field of attention
during devotion and activity. In the case of the head, the strap
goes around the head like a crown and ends in a knot that reminds
the practitioner of the base of his occipital bone. In the case of
the arm, the strap is bound seven times along the arm and three
times on the hand—in such a way that the three turnings in the
palm of the hand form the sacred letter Shin.
Though I don’t know explicit Jewish teachings concerning
the flow of energies in the body, I cannot doubt that the enhance-
ment of prayer through the wearing of tfillin was once introduced
with full awareness of the matter and it amounts to a crypto-
Tantric element within the tradition.
A great wealth of liturgical creativity is expressed in the
Jewish conception of the sacred calendar—with its solemn and
joyful festivals. The first among these festivals—Rosh Hashana—
“head of the year”—involves a confirmation of God as King of
Israel. Not only is the sovereignty of God then proclaimed once
more, as was that of earthly kings in ancient times, but the form
of the ceremony is patterned after a rite of enthronement. Visu-
alization is a part of liturgy, and visualization suggests particular
foci of body awareness. The visualization of the New Year ritual
involves the offering to God of a crown made by the prayers of
Israel.21
We may say that there is a truly spiritual evocatory potential
in the images of crown and throne that goes beyond such evoca-
tion of kingly authority as the conventional emblems explicitly
bring to mind. Since some spiritual traditions know of an intrin-
sic relation of crown and throne to transcendent and immanent
forms of exalted consciousness, I think that we may attribute
to the originators of the tradition the same kind of experience
as those who have left us the iconography of the ureus in the
head of the Pharaohs or haloes around the head of Buddhas and
saints. Crowning is, of course, evocative of the physical sensa-
tions accompanying the activation of the upper chakras, and the
full ceremony of crowning took into account both the frontal
area (head band) and the crown of the head proper. Something
similar may be said of the throne (analogous to the lotus seat of
the Buddhas): if the crown invites the head to expand, the throne
invites the pelvis to do the same. We may say that crown and
throne evoke a state of being of one who is fully grown in both
the upward and downward directions, and we can also say that
the physical process of bringing prana to the crown of the head
and to the lower pelvis (and the feet) are like a physical echo of
a spiritual birth process, when the process of deep surrender and
relaxation of the tonus armour reaches the bottom of our coc-
cyx. We truly are born through the top of our heads, and we give
birth to ourselves through the bottom of our pelvis. It is conceiv-
able that, just as Tantrics have known about the correspondence
between spiritual fullness and the fullness of a “light body,” also
the originators of Jewish ritual have known about the physical
correlates of expanded consciousness.
Though Judaism emphasizes the distance between the creator

and human creatures to such a point that God-identification is
tabooed as arrogance, the doctrine of being patterned in the Cre-
ator God’s image is echoed in the central symbol of the Kabbalah:
the sephirotic tree or the Tree of Life—concerning the emanation
and continuous incarnation of the divine through a descending
ladder of qualities. The superimposition of the tree on the human
body, too, suggests knowledge of the divinization of the Body
comparable to Far Eastern traditions.
Hitbonenut and Hitbodedut
It is no wonder that the time of the blossoming of the Kab-

balistic movement in the history of Jewish spirituality brought
along an emphasis on meditation.
To the extent that meditation constitutes an experiential cor-
roboration of spiritual truths, we cannot draw a sharp boundary
between the domains of meditation and gnosis (in other words,
the domain of studying and the domain of deeply apprehend-
ing that which we study). Thus we may say that Kabbalah
has supported an increased emphasis in the study of spiritual
teachings—hitbonenut—and that meditative experience has in
turn intensified the process of Kabbalistic explicitation.
Just as in classical Buddhism forty meditation objects are
proposed, and there is a wisdom in the choice of these objects
that represents an advantage over an invitation to meditate on just
everything ad‑libitum, so an important contribution to medita-
tive experience lies in the formulation of the sephirot or divine
emanations and their interrelations.
We may speak here of a practical art of bringing the mind
from one contemplation to another through a natural ladder that
leads it to a greater depth. I think we may consider this in anal-
ogy with music. To an enlightened ear all sound is expression of
the sacred. The less attuned the ear is to the spirit, however, the
more special the sound or combination of sounds needs to be to
evoke spiritual experience. Music does just that. Great music can
speak even to a relatively deaf ear. Music has the power to seize
us and convey a special meaningfulness to us without our having
taken the initiative in reaching out for it.
I think that, just as Beethoven said that his music was a com-
munication from heart to heart, the great Kabbalists were also
artists who, out of their hearts, generated contemplations that
could serve others in replicating the original experience that
they enclosed in symbolic garb. In contrast to the more reflective
level of consciousness alluded by the word hitbonenut, deeper
contemplation is designated by the Kabbalists and later Hasidim
through the word hitbodedut, the etymology of which conveys a
reference to detachment from the outer world—as in Christian
“recollection.” Aryeh Kaplan tells us that Ben Sina wrote many
volumes on hitbodedut, and that “when an idea was particularly
difficult he would concentrate on it and ponder it, often drinking
a cup of strong wine, enabling him to sleep on it.”22
Great emphasis is given in the Kabbalistic tradition to the
meditation of the divine names and also to meditation on the
letters of the alphabet—something comparable to the phonetic
symbolism in the Sanskrit tradition, but differing from it in that,
instead of an emphasis in vocalization, we find an emphasis in
the visualization of letters and their combinations, along with
a consideration of the symbolic references of their numerical
equivalents.
Perhaps the greatest authority on the meditation on the
letters has been Abulafia, one of the great religious geniuses in
both the Jewish and Sufi traditions who lived in the thirteenth
century. Though I do not know any contemporary Jew who
practices Abulafia’s method, this account of Jewish meditation
would not be complete without a quotation from his work Light
of the Intellect—which I take from Kaplan’s translation.23 In
summary, Abulafia’s system involves the enunciation of the four
letters of God’s name in combination with Aleph and with the
five vowels.
It is known that the consonant letters do not have any sound

by themselves. God therefore gave the mouth the power to express
the letters, pronouncing them as they are found in a book. For this
purpose, he provided vowel points for the letters, indicating the
sound with which they must be expressed when they are translated
from a book to the mouth. These vowels are what allow the letters
to be sounded, and they can also be written as letters in a book.
The vibrations of these sounds must also be associated with space.
No vibration can occur except in a definite time and place. The
elements of space are the dimensions and distances. The elements
of time are cycles, through which it is measured. This includes such
divisions as years, months and days. One must therefore know how
to draw out the sound of each letter as it is related to these dimen-
sions. This is the mystery of how to pronounce the Glorious Name.
Make yourself right. Meditate (hitboded) in a special place, where
your voice cannot be heard by others. Cleanse your heart, and soul
of all other thoughts in the world. Imagine that all this time, your
soul is separating itself from your body, and that you are leaving the
physical world behind, so that you enter the Future World, which is
the source of all life distributed to the living.
The Future World is the intellect, which is the source of all
Wisdom, Understanding and Knowledge, emanating from the King
of Kings, the Blessed Holy One. All creatures fear Him with a great
awe. This is the fear of one who actually perceives, and it is double
the fear of one who merely has experienced love or awe. Your mind
must then come to join His Mind, which gives you the power to
think. Your mind must divest itself of all thoughts other than His
Thought. This becomes like a partner, joining you to Him through
His glorious, awesome Name.
You must therefore know precisely how to pronounce the
Name. (Its form is given in the tables.)
This is the technique. When you begin to pronounce the Alef
with any vowel, it is expressing the mystery of Unity (Yichud). You
must therefore draw it out in one breath and no more. Do not
interrupt this breathing any manner whatsoever until you have
completed the pronunciation of the Alef.
Draw out this breath as long as you extend a single breath.
At the same time, chant the Alef, or whatever other letter you are
pronouncing, while depicting the form of the vowel point.
The first vowel is the Cholem (o) above the letter. When you be-
gin to pronounce it, direct your face toward the East, not looking up
or down. You should be sitting, wearing clean, pure white robes over
all your clothing, or else, wearing your prayer shawl (Tallit) over
your head and crowned with your Tefillin. You must face the east,
since it is from that direction that light emanates to the world.
Abulafia goes on to explain that with each of the twenty-five

letter pairs, one’s head must move properly, facing specified di-
rections, and that only two breaths are permitted between each
two-letter combination, while no more than twenty-five are al-
lowed between the four groups of twenty-five.
I have only given a partial quotation in view of a purpose
that is not practical but theoretical—geared to an understand-
ing of the generalized principles in meditation practice. From
this fragmentary description it may be seen that here is a form
of meditation that focuses on symbolic context yet also involves
visualization, attention to breathing, breathing-control and ritual
action—including head movements and chanting. We may say
that—as in Tantric practices involving a multiple focus in atten-
tion—the exercise is designed to occupy the individual’s attention
completely, minimizing the possibility of conceptualization or
irrelevant imagination.
A modern expression of the technique of meditating on the
letters of the Divine Name is Zalman Schachter’s variation of the
traditional Shiviti24 that interprets Shiviti as name-gazing. I quote
below the first paragraph of his guide to the use of Mugier’s de-
sign combining the Shiviti idea with the four letters of the Divine
Name in a pattern that echoes the sephirotic tree:
“Shiviti” comes from the sentence “I have set (Shiviti) the Lord
before me always.” Looking at a Shiviti is Name-gazing. It is akin
to ikon-gazing: concentrating on the symbol of the Deity with a
focused gaze, until the distance between inside and outside becomes
obliterated, and what was on the outside (the Shiviti) becomes
internalized. Looking at the Shiviti we view the world from God’s
vantage point. Chesed, God’s right hand, as it were, is on our right,
not opposite our left hand, as it would be if we were facing God.
This is connected to God’s words to Moses, “You shall see my back,
but my face is not to be seen.” So one walks, as it were, into the

YHVH, facing in the same direction, becoming one with it.
It is of great value to color the Shiviti in such a way as to make
it a more personal aid to prayer. In fact, the wonderful Swiss artist,
Henri Mugier, who created this Shiviti for P’nai Or, left the spaces
open precisely for this purpose. One world of caution: the Shiviti
was drawn and reproduced with great respect for the Name which
it contains. Please treat it appropriately.
On the top of the Shiviti are the words “Mimizrach shemesh
ad m’vo’o m’hullal shem YHVH.” This section can be colored
with rainbow colors. The sentence means “From the rising of the
sun to its setting, praised be the name of God.” The name of God,
YHVH, is the object of Shiviti. “Shiviti YHVH l’negedi tamid,” “I
have placed YHVH opposite me always,” also involves the Name
in the Shiviti.
The Name is written in such a way, top to bottom, rather than
right to left, to create a hierarchy and also a figure: Yud is the head,
the upper Heh, the arms and shoulders; Vav, the heart, spine and
genitals; and the lower Heh, the legs, and pelvis. These are the four
levels: The top of the Yud is Keter and the rest of it is Chochmah,
the two Heh’s are Binah and Malkhut. The Vav contains the sephirot
Chesed, Gavurah, Tiferet, Netzach, Hod and Yesod.
As we move from the time of the early Kabbalists to that of

the Hasidic masters who made the Kabbalah widely known, we
find a still greater emphasis in meditation (hitbodedut) and yet
one that is difficult to describe in terms of meditation techniques.
It seems, rather, that the spirit of Hasidism as a whole (and a
factor of contagion) accounted for this cultural wave of mystical
inspiration. If we look for the techniques of meditation that may
have supported the expanded consciousness (mochin DeGatlut)
of the Hasidim, we find (besides the standard daily prayers)
mainly a simple concentration on the divine. Thus it is said that
the Baal Shem Tov as a young child would miss his lessons, going
off to meditate (hitboded) in the forests, and later, when he was
a famed leader, he would also spend much time in a meditation
room (Bet Hitbodedut). The name with which Hitbodedut is most
often associated is that of Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav who has
left us an entire literature concerning the subject. I quote Aryeh

Kaplan on Rabbi Nachman’s way25:
Rather than concentrating on some external thing, such as a

name or a mantram, one concentrates on the thoughts that arise in
his mind ... one does so in the context of prayer, expressing these
spontaneous thoughts as prayers before God.
In regard to prayer, the method of the Baal Shem Tov was

of a simplicity that made it accessible to anyone. Again I quote
Kaplan: “Rather than concentrate on the various Kabbalistic
concepts during prayer, one must use the prayer itself as a mantra
focusing his entire mind on the words. While praying one then
rises mentally from one universe to the next, from chamber to
chamber, until one reaches the highest level.”
The four sections of the traditional liturgy were interpreted
by the Hasidim as connected to the four worlds of the Kabbalah.
Thus the sacrificial readings at the beginning of the daily morning
prayer may be seen as related to the body (Asiyah), the psalms
correspond to the level of emotion, motivation and the “world
of formation” or Yetzirah; the Sh’ma and its blessing correspond
to the world of creation or Briyah, and the Amidah or standing
prayer (containing the eighteen benedictions) to the level of
Atzilut or world of emanation. Also the Amidah is regarded as
the collective equivalent of the act of the High Priest in the days
of Solomon’s Temple when he once in the year would enter the
sanctum containing the Ark of the Covenant.
In regard to the attitude of prayer, the Baal Shem Tov says:
When you pray, you should be totally divorced from the physi-
cal, not aware of your existence in the world at all. Then when you
reach the level when you are not cognizant whether or not you
are in the physical world, you should certainly not have any fear
of extraneous thoughts, and if you are divested from the physical,
extraneous thoughts cannot come to you.
I think that more important than a specific method of spiri-

tual ascent has been, in Hasidic spirituality, an emphasis in the
Kabbalistic notion of nothingness—Ayin. Not only is nothingness
equated with the level of absolute—the world of emanation, and
of the sephirot as a whole, underlying the realm of creation or
Briyah; also among the sephirot it is the first of these—Kether, or
the crown—that is regarded as nothing (for it is said of chochmah
or wisdom—the second highest sephira—that it comes into being
from nothing); furthermore, the whole sephirotic tree is regarded
in the Kabbalistic vision as a series of emanations from the Ain
Sof—an appellation sometimes translated as infinite being but
also ultimate nothingness. It may be said, thus, that the symbolic
construction of the Kabbalah is an indication to the mind to shift
from form to formlessness, and from specific states of conscious-
ness to the undifferentiated consciousness itself.
III. ISLAM
Though the Sufis—embodiment of the highest mystical ac-

complishment in the Moslem world—claim spiritual descent
from Mohammed,26 it is only some generations after Mohammed
that we find individuals characterized as being “Sufis”—and it is
the influence of Mohammed’s cousin and son-in-law Ali that is
most characteristically emphasized in the tradition.
It is possible that the continuity between Sufism and Chris-
tianity is no less significant than that between Christianity and
Judaism—though much less apparent. Just as the influence of
Syrian Christians was a factor in the shaping of Mohammed’s
mind, it may be no coincidence that the woolen garb (from the
name of which the word Sufi derives) is something that the early
Sufi ascetics shared with the Christian hermits.
The influence of esoteric Islam on the Christian Renaissance
has been pointed out by Idries Shah in his book The Sufis. The
Carbonari, the Alchemists, the Orders of Chivalry, the trouba-

dours, Dante, the institution of the court jester—even playing
cards can be traced to the same hidden origin.
In recent times the growing interest in Sufism on the part of
the West may be regarded as not only an expression of a general-
ized interest in Eastern spirituality but a consequence of the inter-
est stirred earlier in the century by George Gurdjieff. Speaking of
a “Fourth Way” and “esoteric Christianity” and without making
reference to Islam, Gurdjieff was able to leave a powerful imprint
in many European and American seekers before the dawn of the
present “consciousness revolution,” and today we have reason to
think that he was connected to the mysterious and ancient lineage
of the “Masters of Wisdom.”
Of specific importance in the development of Sufism seems
to be the influence of this particular school (Khwajagan) about
which Bennett has written.27 It is the influence of this school,
according to him, that distinguishes the Northern Sufism of Af-
ghanistan, Turkestan and the Caucasus from the Southern Sufism
of Arabia, Syria, Africa and Spain—which bears more strongly the
marks of Islam. Though Islam was dominant in Turkestan in the
eighth and ninth centuries, he remarks, there was still a strong
Assyrian Christian church, flourishing Buddhist monasteries and
a living Zoroastrian tradition—which made Turkestan their meet-
ing point and the place of a higher synthesis.
To speak of meditation in the Islamic culture practically
amounts to a discussion of Sufi practices, for Sufism not only has
been the source of the most creative contribution to meditative
practices (in the broad sense of the expression) within Islam but
contains exoteric Islam as a foundation.
Both prayer and reflection on scripture is something Islam
and Sufism share with the Jewish and Christian traditions. Also,
like Judaism and Christianity, Islam and Sufism are pervaded by
devotion to God and an ideal of brotherly love. Since Sufism so
strikingly invites the creativity of the individual teacher, however,
and relies little on codified formulas, it would be impossible to
portray the immense variety of its mental training techniques in

the living situation, and we can only turn to the classic codified
systems.
Reflective meditation (Fikr)
As in any spiritual system there is a place in Sufism for that

form of meditation that we can alternatively describe as reflection
or deep pondering of stated truth.
In the first place, pondering on statements in the Koran and
of hadith (traditional sayings of the Prophet outside the Koran)
has constituted an important part of Moslem spirituality, and one
such hadith says that reflection is better than worship. The Sufis
have also given emphasis to consideration of the sayings, writings
and anecdotes of the masters.
In Idries Shah’s book The Way of the Sufi28, for instance,
we find a section entitled “Themes for Solitary Reflection” with
short statements from Sufis of the past. I quote one of its entries
below:
Knowledge proceeds from: “What am I?”

To: “I do not know what I am.”
To between “Perhaps I am not” and “I will find myself ”;
to between “I will find myself ” and “I am,” to “I am what I
know myself to be,”
to “I am.” (Abu‑Hasanel‑Shadhili)
It seems that some Sufis have exerted a deep influence on

others through what may be described as “theological discourse”
emphasizing it beyond exercises of explicit meditation. Though
surely an element of contagion was also at work in their presence,
it may be also said that the medium of symbolism and poetic
figuration constitutes a contribution to the life of meditation
by providing the contemplative mind with a support. Thus, for
example, works of Ibn ’Arabi written in trance may have poten-
tial of bringing the reader to a state near that out of which they
sprang—just as the work of a musician evokes the experiences

out of which it originally crystallized.
When we consider, for instance, Ibn ’Arabi’s conception the
four orders of existence that are contained within the mind of the
perfect man, we may say that Ibn ’Arabi is turning poetry into a
mental apparatus to expand the consciousness of his readers.29
The first presence is something that Ibn ’Arabi also calls the
Universe of non-manifestation or Absolute Blindness. It is also
called Sheer Being, Pure Ipseity (dhat), Mother of the Book, Ab-
solute Expression, the Ocean‑Deep Point, the Unknown of the
Unknown. It is the realm of the Divine beyond qualities.
The second Presence is called by Ibn ’Arabi as the Presence of
the First Unveiling, or First Revelation (tajalli), the First Jewel,
the Reality of Muhammed. Just as he calls the first Presence
“Mother of the Book,” to this one he gives the name of “the Evi-
dent Book” and explains: “In the Mother of the Book everything
is seen collected together and in the Evident Book one begins to
enter into chapters.” The Mother of the Book is Essence (dhat).
This station is also called the Universe of Names, Fixed Poten-
tialities (‘ayanith thabita), Universe of Quiddities (mahiya), the
Great Isthmus.
The third Presence corresponds to the angelic universe or
“the degree of the angels.” It constitutes a “second universe” and
“the universe of chapters.” He also speaks of it as a universe of
examples (mithal) or illusions (khayal).
The fourth Presence is called by him Absolute Observation,
Vision, Witnessing. It is also the Universe of Creation, Universe
of Senses, Species, Galaxies, Stars and Birth. “The totality of the
universe of forms.”
The fifth and last presence spoken by Ibn ’Arabi is the Per-
fect Man (Insan-i‑kamil): the one who has been through his own
annihilation in the mirror of the Universe. Says Ibn ’Arabi: the
presences that have been explained and the totality of the uni-
verses is encompassed in totality in this Man. And continues: the
Perfect Man is the possessor of the degree of unification; he is at
the station of the Greatest Name (al‑ism al-a‘zam). Just as the Ism
al-a‘zam collects and contains all the Names, in the same way the
Perfect Man collects and contains within himself the universes of
mulk, malakut, jabarut and lahut.
Far from being pure theological speculation, such a view
invites the mind to the definite experience of soaring beyond the
visible and tangible and to a distillation of experience into its
quintessence and its empty core—just as in the case of the Kab-
balah. Thus Sufism has an influence in meditative life of its prac-
titioners through a collection of mental apparatuses which do not
involve so much the invention of new methods or the discovery
of new powerful meditation objects, but, rather, in the design of
guiding patterns of contemplation. A meditational apparatus of
this sort is the “enneagram” of the Sarmouni.30 The enneagram
may be likened to the Kabbalistic tree of life as representing not
a meditation object but a system of interconnected objects that
act upon the mind dwelling upon it in a way that guides it to its
own depth.31
It seems to me that just as the Buddhists have been masters of
silence, the Sufis have been masters of the word, and an account
of their use of words to effect the mind would not be complete
without mention of teaching tales, which Sufis seem to have re-
fined to an unusual degree of perfection. Here is one of particular
relevance to our subject:32
A Sufi of the Order of the Naqshbandis was asked: “Your Or-

der’s name means, literally, ‘The Designers.’ What do you design,
and what use is it?”
He said: “We do a great deal of designing, and it is most useful.
Here is a parable of one such form.
“Unjustly imprisoned, a tinsmith was allowed to receive a rug
woven by his wife. He prostrated himself upon the rug day after
day to say his prayers, and after some time he said to his jailers: ‘I
am poor and without hope, and you are wretchedly paid. But I am
a tinsmith. Bring me tin and tools and I shall make small artifacts
which you can sell in the market, and we will both benefit.’
“The guards agreed to this, and presently the tinsmith and

they were both making a profit, from which they bought food and
comforts for themselves.
“Then, one day, when the guards went to the cell, the door was
open, and he was gone.
“Many years later, when this man’s innocence had been estab-
lished, the man who had imprisoned him asked him how he had
escaped, what magic he had used. He said:
‘“It is a matter of design, and design within design. My wife is
a weaver. She found the man who had made the locks of the cell
door, and got the design from him. This she wove into the carpet,
at the spot where my head touched in prayer five times a day. I am
a metal‑worker, and this design looked to me like the inside of a
lock. I designed the plan of the artifacts to obtain the materials to
make the key—and I escaped.’
“That,” said the Naqshbandi Sufi, “is one of the ways in which
man may make his escape from the tyranny of his captivity.”
Wazifas
Though forms of concentration on the Divine, the Wazifas

deserve to be mentioned separately, in light of their distinct
designations, from meditation proper (Murakaba) and they in-
volved the vocalization of the divine names. While Murakaba
may be said to aim mostly at a level of contemplation beyond
the imaginal and conceptual, the Wazifas evoke the Divine in
connection to specific attributes, and aim at the cultivation of
different facets of consciousness. Thus, for instance, in connec-
tion with the need of a particular murid, the guide will prescribe,
Ya‑Gafur (The Grateful), Ya‑Jamal (The Beautiful), Ya‑Hadji
(The Guide), etc.
Zikr
The best known practice in the domain of Sufi meditation,

however, is that of the Zikr—a word which translates at the same
time as repetition and remembering. The exercise is indeed one
of remembering God through repetition of an utterance, as in

Christian litanies. Supported in the Koranic statement in which
God says, “I will remember you if you remember Me”, the best
known of the traditional Zikrs is a reiteration of “La Illaha Illah
Lah”—there is no God but God. Once a practitioner has puri-
fied himself symbolically through washing, he may engage in this
practice by synchronizing words and breath. One form of the
exercise makes “La Illaha” coincide with a bending forward of
the kneeling body to the point of touching the forehead to the
ground, and “Illah Lah” with the return of the body to the vertical
position. The two halves of the verbal repetition are taken as oc-
casion for an alternation between an internal act of relinquishing
the whole world (along with the “Illah Lah” and bending) and
the affirmation of the unity of God (on repeating “Illah Lah” and
returning to the erect position).
Lataif
Particularly important in the domain of Sufi meditation is

its work of sensitization and awakening of the lataif—variously
spoken of in an analogy to subtle organs, gods or cosmic vibra-
tions. Sufi traditions in regard to the lataif may be considered a
continuation of the mystery traditions of antiquity and, as in the
case of the Tantric tradition, there is recognition of a close cor-
respondence between certain kinds of spiritual experience and
regions of the body.
Idries Shah, in an appendix to his book The Sufis,33 has re-
marked on the equivalence between the positions of the Lataif
on the body and those evoked by the Christian sign of the cross,
and pointed out their correspondence to successive stages in the
alchemical work. He also comments on how the Sufi sequence
on the activation of Lataif differs from that in alchemy and in the
Christian sign of the cross—the sequence being yellow to red, to
white, black and green.
Murakaba or meditation proper
Just as levels of contemplative prayer are discriminated in

the Christian tradition, so we find references of various levels of
Murakaba, which we might likewise understand as a continuum
from turning away from the world and increasing absorption in
the Divine. In his treatment of the subject, Dr. Javal Nurbaksh34
speaks of the Divine Murakaba “reserved for the Saints of God
who see Him both inwardly and outwardly in both solitude and
society and who say ‘I see nothing unless I have seen God first’.”
Hassadi has called this Murakaba “Murakaba of the Secrets” stat-
ing that it, too, can be reached through three things:
1. being lost to the world,

2. abandoning the self,
3. being filled with closeness to God.
A discussion of meditation would not be complete without

pointing out that the Sufis certainly have known, as the Christians
and the yogis have, the difference between the visionary and the
“dark levels of contemplation.” What in yoga is the distinction
between Savikalpa samadhi and Nirvikalpa samadhi is here the
distinction between consciousness of the attributes and the con-
templation of the Divine in its transcendent unity. Of the latter it
is said that this is not an activity on the part of the knower, but
that when the individual comes to know his nothingness he can
partake in God’s knowledge of himself.
Among the outer aspects of meditation practice it is interest-
ing to mention the emphasis on the Murakaba practice as one that
should be done not only in quiet and sitting on the ground but af-
ter ritual cleansing and in absence of any others. Closing his eyes,
the meditator puts thinking and imagination to rest, concentrates
upon God, and loses any sense of individual will—to the extent
of forgetting even his identity as meditator.
Though Murakaba is explicitly described as a concentration
on the Divine35 it is clear that the meditative experience alluded
involves a characteristic relinquishment of control, a gesture of

surrender.36
Concerning the attitude of the meditator, I think it may be
said that the living experience of Sufism involves the experience
of surrender to a remarkable degree—both in the sense of dar-
ing to jump into the unknown and in that of an attunement of
the “inner ear” to a higher guidance. It is sometimes said that
the Sufi is a guided individual and the very word “Islam” may
be translated as “surrender” (though it may be pointed out that
surrender to God is often confused with surrender to authority
and its legalism).
Sama
Though meditative listening may be regarded a form of

meditation-with-an-object (a sound object), it seems appropriate
to speak of it under a separate heading, as is usual. The case of
music might be compared to that of poetic theology (as in Ibn
’Arabi) or even that of the spelling out of divine attributes as
Wazifas, in that, as in these, the traditional contribution has been
not so much to the inner aspect of meditative listening but to mu-
sical creativity as such and the elaboration of melodic-rhythmic
meditation objects.
In connection with this, however, it must be pointed out that
(as in the case of meditative movement) not all schools or Sufis
have been in agreement: while the Mevlevis have emphasized mu-
sic, the Naqshbandis have tended to emphasize the importance of
not abusing ecstatogenic means.
Attention training
As intimated before, the practice of mindfulness is also an

important form of meditation within Sufism. As in the Theravada
tradition37 mindfulness of breath and posture are a basic practice
in the Naqshbandi tradition, and the practice of continuity of
awareness has been emphasized by Gurdjieff. Also in the tradi-

tion of Mohammed Shattari (fifteenth-century originator of “the
rapidness”) great care is given to the training of attention through
its simultaneous focus on movements, rhythm and points of con-
centration.
A particularly important form of mindfulness is the exercise
usually described as self‑remembering, which beyond attention
to perceptions stresses mindfulness of self as witness—a turning
the awareness toward awareness itself. I quote below a detailed
description of an introduction to this practice from a modern
source.38
To begin with, one must learn to divide attention at least a little,

with 50% on “it,” or the organic self plus the outer world, and 50%
on our real “I.”
To find real “I,” simply trace attention back to the “source of
attention” and at the same time keep the other half of attention fixed
on the objects of outer attention, say the second‑hand of a clock.
Do this for two whole minutes without interruption in the sens-
ing of presence of “I.” If “I” is not fully present or something else
attracts your attention even for one moment, begin again. Remain
for two whole minutes sensing the presence of “I,” not riding it
down the octave like an American cowboy.
It is possible in six months, maybe one year, to attain the status
of a “two‑minute‑idiot.” An “idiot” is anyone who struggles with his
nature. Ordinary man cannot be an idiot in this sense of the word.
He makes all his effort to preserve the vanity of his imaginary “I”
and toward his‑world of “it.”
We must not be tempted to use attention in the same way as
a donkey follows a carrot tied to his own head. We must do more
than just be aware of the presence of “I.”... We must sense the pres-
ence of “I.”
He then stood in front of the group in a bow‑and‑arrow pose.
Indicating the forward hand holding the bow, he said, “This hand
represents the world of ‘it,’ what we can call ‘here‑ness,’ the outer
world including our organic self.”
Drawing his other hand back in a smooth, swift motion he
added, “This other hand represents ‘I’ becoming aware of its pres-
ence and drawing away from identification with ‘it’ by observing
events impartially and at the same time sensing its own definite
presence. This quality of presence makes possible the Third Force,
which we call Being. Not your‑Being, but Being in the real sense
of the word.... Pure vibration result of the blending of two forces,
represented by the passive ‘it’ and the active ‘I.’
“In ordinary life man is a nonentity and for him only his ‘it’
exists, into which he falls helplessly every moment of his life. With
no presence of ‘I’ he cannot make Being, because Being is a pure
vibration result of two other forces.
“This Third Force is not a true force; it has no existence of its
own; it is a result of the blending of the two real forces. To make
any vibration whatever, one must have both the plus and minus
forces.
“This is how to make real Being. When Being is manifest, sound
and vibration are emitted from the organism. With my inner‑eye I
am able to see and hear this vibration‑of‑Being. Only then, when
‘I’ is present, can the First Force blend with the Second, making the
Third force, or Being.”
He held one hand with fingers extended. “This will represent
‘hereness.’” Holding his other hand with the fingers extended in
the same way, he added, “And this will represent our ‘I,’ the First
Force.
“When we blend them together,” he said, at the same time
meshing the fingers of both hands together, “we have ‘Am‑ness,’
what we call Being. Now we can rightfully say ‘I am here,’ because
we have all three forces represented in our self.
“To make this Being a permanent entity or at least attain stabil-
ity of Being, we must practice many times, more than one thousand.
Maybe good to first decide if this will be a profitable enterprise for
you before you go too far.
“To make presence with all your might, make a big doh of ef-
fort39 with each new in-breath. To use breath in this way can provide
for us a natural tempo of effort. Do not allow it to become auto-
matic. Real consciousness must be made new each moment.
“All nature, along with the eager help of contemporary civiliza-
tion and its power‑possessors, conspire against man to make him
forget his ‘I’ and to always and in everything identify with ‘it.’ In
this way man learns one way and another to be a nothingness, a
nonentity, in this respect.
“Man is educated to ‘fall into’ his outer world just as he falls
into a cinema show. He learns to forget his presence and to become
whatever he sees in front of him, allowing his involuntary self to

take place of ‘I,’ unless something accidentally happens to force his
‘I’ to be momentarily present.
“Such a man has not even the smallest presence of ‘I’ when he
dies; he had made no Being which has the possibility of continua-
tion. F. has drawn a diagram to show how this experiment should
be performed.
ORDINARY MAN: ............................. “HERENESS OR IT”

CONSCIOUS MAN: “I” ................. “AM”............... “HERE”
“We can use this idea to help us remember to make present our
‘I.’ Repeat not involuntarily the prayer ‘I wish to be here.... I am
able to be here.... I am here’ whenever you think of it.
“We are mistaken if we believe that identification is simple at-
tachment. It is really falling into what we see before us, even our
organic machine.
“To identify in this way cuts our ‘I’ off from the lower world
of ‘it’.
“We can learn to be like a lightning rod for the fusing of these
two worlds, making a new world which cannot exist independently.
Only man is able to make the new world for the benefit of the
Absolute.
“It is hard to grasp this idea, but ordinary man is so completely
and continually identified with his organic machine that he cannot
separate himself from his machine.
“The yogi takes the opposite end of this stick. He has real
‘I’ but no presence, because he rejects as illusion the phenomena
around him; the Second Force. He is a result, in general, without
much Being. Third Force cannot be obtained by pouring from the
empty into the void.
“Self‑consciousness is to fully sense the presence of ‘I.’... To be
present with a complete sensation of ‘I Am Here.’...
“This disarmingly simple experiment, if attempted for two full

minutes without one single break in attention of either ‘I’ or ‘it’ can
show anyone in his own experience several important factors:
1. That man is asleep.... Not just ‘man in general’ but he himself
in particular.
2. That it is possible to see and even to taste a little what it is
to be ‘not asleep.’
3. That only by special effort is it possible to really awaken.

4. The urgent necessity for work on self.
5. The exact method for waking from this sleep.
6. More or less how much effort will be required in order to
fully awaken from sleep.
7. Why only he is able to work on self for self, and why no one
else can do this work for us.
IV. HINDUISM
Heinrich Zimmer writes that “the religion of Rigveda is relat-

ed and comparable to the religions of the other Hindu-European
people—those of Greece and Rome, for example,” and explains
that between the time of the Rigveda and that of the Brahmanas
“emphasis has shifted from the god to the sacrifice” and by the
time of the Upanishads and the theoretical formulation of Ve-
danta (“the end of the Veda”), the sacrifice became internalized.40
In the end, the doctrine was formulated of a sacrifice of the ego
through victory over the hindrances—the obscurations which ex-
ist (as Patanjali asserts) “in the field of avidya” (obscuration).
Though the principles of yoga were only put into writing
between the fifth and third century, archeological remains sug-
gest that that yoga has been known since pre-historic and even
pre-Aryan times.41
It seems that at the beginning of Indian civilization, the ele-
ments of devotion, gnosis, yoga and dharma may be conceived as
components in a unitary path, while after vedic times a specializa-
tion of Indian religion took place and there emerged the separate
streams of Karma yoga, Brahmanic ritualism, rajayoga, the “phil-
osophical schools.” And while the Gnostic stream may be said to
have climaxed in Shankara with the formulation of non-dualistic
Vedanta, the devotional stream underwent a strong revival in the
time of Lord Caitanya’s Krishna worship in Bengal.
Again all three streams may be said to converge in Tantrism,
which is obviously an elaboration of both yoga, spiritual philoso-
phy42 and devotionalism, and in addition to this it may be said

of Indian Tantrism (as of Buddhist Tantrism which arose by the
same time)—that it is characterized by a particular emphasis in
guru/disciple relationship, which becomes one of worship as well
as the occasion for a spiritual contagion or blessing.
What is most distinct in Indian spirituality, however, is the
emergence of yoga in the most restricted sense of the word—i.e.,
attention training geared to the experiential investigation of the
deeper mind or spiritual reality.
No account of Indian spirituality can be complete without
mention of three towering religious geniuses in the modern age:
Ramakrishna, who claimed attainment of the goal of both the
devotional path of God with form and the Gnostic path leading
to the cognition of the ultimate as formless; Ramana Maharshi,
whose realization of the transcendent Self still reverberates
through his stimulus to self-inquiry; and Sri Aurobindo, a self-
taught master who is often quoted along with Teillard de Chardin
as a prophet of enlightened society.
Still more recently, the influence of Indian spirituality has
been felt more directly in the West, especially through three high-
ly charismatic figures—one orthodox, another non-traditional,
and the third mostly identified as the proponent of a specific
meditation technique. Swami (Baba) Muktananda in America
and Baghwan Rajneesh in Europe have recruited people by the
thousands in their ashrams, while yogi Maharishi has interested
no fewer in the practice of “transcendental meditation or ‘TM’.”
No less perhaps has been the indirect impact of Sri Aurobindo,
one of whose disciples was Haridas Chaudhuri (who with Alan
Watts founded the Pacific School of Religion and who, in turn,
influenced Michael Murphy—founder of Esalen Institute and
originator of the “growth center” idea).
In what follows I will concentrate on the way of meditation
proper, which finds its purest expression in raja yoga (literally
“the kingly way”)—which seems to have originated among the
kshatryas or warriors rather than among the brahmins or priests.
The skillful means for carrying out the annihilation of the ego
probably had been known for centuries before the day of Patan-
jali, but it was Patanjali (300 to 500 bc) who seemed to have been
the first to set down the “science of yoga” in his four books of
aphorisms.
Eight-Limbed Yoga
“OM: Here follows Instruction in Union.”

These are the words of Patanjali’s first aphorism. The word
yoga, itself related to yug—meaning to yoke—may be considered
as not only alluding to the unification of individual consciousness
with the supreme reality but to the austerity involved in commit-
ment to the yogic discipline.
Patanjali is well aware that the yogic instruction he is about
to give is not the only way to union—for he tells us that it is
possible that this goal can also be reached through Ishwara
Pranidhan, surrender to the Lord. What is most specific of yoga
proper, as distinct from the wider use of the word when applied
to the Vedantic gnana yoga (the way of knowledge) and bhakti
yoga (the devotional way), and what makes it the “king of yogas”
(Raja yoga) is that spiritual consciousness is attained in it through
“control of the versatile psychic nature”43 cittivritti nirodha (also
rendered as the “stilling of the vibrations of the mind”).
Yet there is more than mind‑pacification in yoga. Concomi-
tantly, there is in it the pursuit of a new cognition; for when the
versatile psychic nature has been stilled, “the seer comes to con-
sciousness of his proper nature.” Stilling the mind, then, is yoga’s
way of overcoming the “hindrances” to higher cognition: pride,
anger, and others, the principal of which is avidya (not seeing):
the error of regarding as self that which is not, the confusion of
attributing permanence to the ephemeral, which gets in the way
of the apprehension of consciousness by itself. Aphorism sixteen
tells us that, “the consummation of this is freedom from thirst for
any mode of psychical activity, through the establishment of the
spiritual man.” Thus we may say that (just as in Buddhist medi-

tation) there is in yoga a convergence of a not-doing aspect and
a seeing aspect. As practically every spiritual tradition does, Pa-
tanjali observes that the process of liberation through the stilling
of “the activities of the psychic nature” or ego is brought about
through an awakening of consciousness as to who we truly are.
In the Ashtanga (or eight-limbed) yoga teaching system sama-
dhi is supported by the ability to attain deep concentration, and
concentration is, in turn, supported by the practice of “breathing
yoga” or pranayama. This breathing yoga itself is supported by a
yoga of body postures or asanas, and all these “limbs” of yoga are
in turn supported by the abstentions and the observances, yama
and niyama. In other words, meditative activity is pursued in the
context of a virtuous life. Consequently, most of Patanjali’s book
II addresses itself to the yoga of action. This becomes particularly
clear when we observe that the content of Vyasa’s commentary
on Patanjali is very similar to his commentary on the Bhagavad
Gita. There is a strong element of tapas (austerity) in Patanjali’s
yoga, for yoga works on the hindrances “through the right use of
the will and through ceasing from self‑indulgence.”
It is with dharana that concentration proper begins (the word
“dharana” deriving from the root dhr—to sustain, to hold), and
no different exercises are necessarily involved in the transition be-
tween dharana, dhyana and samadhi—which correspond to levels
of concentration and levels in the continuity of awareness. Insofar
as the concentrated mind at this point has reached a quietude that
excludes thought processes, emoting and willing, and involves a
first level of numinosity, the concentrated state may spontane-
ously translate itself into the visualization of the individualized
deities familiar to the practitioner. Alternatively, visualization
may have been part of the practice in the old schools, as it is the
case in present day laya yoga. Thus, Goswami44 writes: “the hrit
center (the heart center) is a very suitable point for the practice
of deep concentration, so it has been said... ‘concentrate on the
divine being who is quiescent, luminous, pure and blissful in the

hrit center’ (Kaiwaliu Upanishad, 5).”
If dharana is intermittent concentration and dhyana stable
concentration, samadhi represents, once more, a further degree
of ekagrata (one‑pointedness). Its characteristic is a depth such
that the individual’s awareness of a separate self is lost as he or
she is completely absorbed in the meditation object. Yet this is
still not the end of yoga, for two distinct levels of samadhi are
distinguished: savikalpa samadhi, in which there is still an object,
and nirvikalpa samadhi—a supreme state of holy undifferentiated
consciousness. Once more we find here a distinction equivalent
to that which Sufism makes between dwelling on the divine at-
tributes or being absorbed in the Divine beyond the discrimina-
tion of specific qualities (a state in which God only reveals to
Himself); or the distinction in the Christian tradition between
contemplation with images and inspired understandings, or a
deeper contemplation where no thoughts or images mediate the
mind’s apprehension of the divine.
Avatar worship
A historical account of Indian spirituality would be most in-

complete without reference to the strong Vaishnava tradition of
Krishna worship that pervades many schools, particularly since
the impetus given to it in the sixteenth century by Caitanya. The
object of devotion is, in many Indian schools, not only a heavenly
God, as in Judaism, but (as in Christianity) the incarnate son of
the transcendent God—i.e., the Human Prototype, and perhaps
(in guru bhakti) the teacher, when he is a perfectly realized be-
ing or Sadguru. This special emphasis in the use of music (in the
form of kirtan) in devotionalism and devotion to the Divine is
frequently pursued in the context of guru bhakti, i.e., devotion
to the human teacher who has attained experiential knowledge
of consubstantiality with the divine.
Indian Tantra
In introducing the description of some practices in the Tantric

tradition I should first emphasize the combination of yoga and
devotion that the approach as a whole entails. Concentration on
the divine is not only obtained through the perfecting of attention
and the intensity of devotion, however, but through the use of
mantra45 and through the additional expediency of visualization.
Even more typical of Tantric yoga is concentration in the body
regions designated as chakras, and most characteristic is the prac-
tice of simultaneous attention to all these elements.
Whether the association of concentration with visualization
in the chakras and in conjunction with mantra constitute a later
addition to yoga or, rather, (as tradition asserts) it is the case that
the Tantric texts of the seventh century and onwards only set into
writing older teachings, we don’t know; but it is likely that there
existed some continuity between Vedic tradition of sound magic
and later use of mantra. The acquaintance of primitive peoples
and shamans with the phenomenology of what may be called the
“kundalini process” lends further support to the notion of a much
older origin of Tantric practice than what is usually believed by
Western scholars.
As “power objects” are invested with magical effectiveness by
shamans, sound is charged like a “power object” in the Tantric
tradition, and every syllable in the Sanskrit alphabet is associated
to a particular quality of sacredness. From the combination of
these syllables arise the sentences in the Tantric liturgies, where in
phonetic evocation and conceptual meaning interact as form and
content do in poetry. In the Mahanirvana Tantra, for instance we
find the seven-letter incantation: Om sat chit ekam Brahma.
This may be translated as “Om—the one only existence and
intelligence (Brahman)” but is said to have an efficacy that does
not depend on it being considered efficacious or not.
The situation of mantric recitation it is not that of concentra-
tion on a fixed object, but a creatively patterned worship process.
For instance, we read in the Mahanirvana Tantra:46
Having thus contemplated the supreme Brahman, the worship-

per should in order to attain union with Brahman worship with
offerings in his mind. For perfume let him offer to the supreme soul
the essence of the earth, of the flowers, the ether, for incense the
essence of the air, for light the luster of the universe and for food
the essence of the waters of the world. After mentally repeating the
great mantra and offering the food of it to the supreme Brahman
the excellent disciple should commence external worship.
The following quotation from the Hymn to Brahman that

is also part of the discipline reminds us of the Buddhist practice
of refuge and also of the Buddhist view of the ultimate as “sign
less”—i.e., beyond distinguishing characteristics:
Om, I bow to thee, the eternal refuge of all. I bow to thee, the
pure intelligence manifested in the universe. I bow to thee for his
essence is one and who grants liberation. I bow to thee, the great
all pervading attributeless one. Thou art the only refuge and object
of adoration. The whole universe is the appearance of thee who
art its cause. Thou alone are creator, preserver, destroyer of the
world. Thou art the sole immutable supreme, who art neither this
nor that.
Most sacred among the mantra in the Indian Tantric stream

is the Vedic Gayatri:
Ong bhur bhuvah svah:

tat savitur varenyam bhargo devasya dhimahi:
dhiyo yo nah prachodayat.
Om.
It translates more or less as: Let us contemplate the supreme

essence and may Brahman direct us (towards the attainment of
dharma, artha, kama, and moksha47).
The thrust of the Tantric Way in general may be said to be the
infusion of the body with the divine, which is pursued through
the simultaneous use of mantra, concentration on subtle body
sensations corresponding to the movement of energy through
the nadis and chakras, through the visualization of the deities,
and of the written mantric letters in the chakras. Yogic practices

complementary to Hatha yoga (that combine locks and breath-
ing) serve to facilitate the process of penetration of the chakras—a
distinct experience which is at the basis of the symbolization of
these psycho‑physical regions along the central axis as lotuses that
are normally closed and have the potential of blossoming and
growing. Besides the use of breath as a vehicle for the movement
of an immaterial “breath” in the channels of the subtler body, the
sexual impulse may be used as stimulus to the process—either
through visualization or sexual yoga.
Prominent among the Indian Tantric teachings is a series of
contemplations linked to the intent of an upward opening of the
chakras, as in an elaborate description included in Lord Avalon’s
collection48: a ritual in the imaginative enactment of which a
mental process of involution may be said to take place whereby
the body is in thought resolved into the source from whence it has
come. Earth is associated with the sense of smell, water with taste,
fire with sight, air with touch and ether with sound. Kundalini is
roused and led to the Swadhistana chakra. The earth element is
dissolved by that of water, as water is by fire, fire by air and air
by ether. This is absorbed by a higher emanation and then that
by a higher and so on until the source of all is reached ... so that
the worshipper absorbs the last element ether with the tanmatra
sound into this selfhood, ahankara, the latter into mahat and that
again into prakriti, thus retracing the steps of evolution. Then, in
accordance with the monastic teaching of the Vedanta prakriti is
herself thought of as the Brahman of which she is the energy and
with which therefore she is already one.
This may be seen as a refinement of the more general prin-
ciple of dissolving the world of form into the formless, and is
also a process which takes advantage of the natural polarity in
the human body between up and down—associatively connected
with the earth and heaven respectively, with the material and with
the mental poles of experience.
For the purposes of making this account of practical Indian

spirituality more comprehensive however, I cannot fail to in-
clude a formula arisen from the background of Vedanta insight
and Tantric spirituality but which, unlike the complex sadhana
partially described through earlier quotations, constitutes a most
condensed version of the fundamental practice of identification
with the divine.
So Ham
I once heard H.H. the late XVIth Karmapa say that Baba
Muktananda was his dharma brother, adding, “our practice is
the same.” Of course, Muktananda, like many throughout the
generations, emerged from the same Mahasiddha lineage as the
Tibetans, and their main practice in both traditions is that of
guru-yoga or guru bhakti.
Besides, Swami Muktananda presented a mixed heritage of
Shiva worship and Kashmir Shaivism along with Krishna worship
and Vedanta—and more than anybody else broadcasted the So-
Ham japa in the West.
More exactly, he taught two alternative exercises referred to
as the Soham and the Hamsa.
Soham literally means “I am that” and thus asserts the identity
between the atman and the brahman (equivalent to the consub
stantiality of the Father and the Son in the extended gnostic
meaning of the latter term). Hamsa (which results from the inver-
sion of the two terms and reads as swan) makes us more aware
of the meaning of the separate syllables: Ham, being the mantric
expansion of the nearly inaudible H, evocative of the masculine
principle of transcendence; Sa the feminine or Shakti, the energy
of manifestation.
I remember Swami Muktananda tell the story of some an-
cient king of India who was repeating Hamsa by a stream when
he was encountered by a passing dervish, who mocked him for
having to remind himself of the obvious. The story contains a

technical allusion, for the Hamsa Sadhana instructs the indi-
vidual not exactly to repeat a mantram but to a practice called
ajapa—non‑repetition—in which the task is to listen instead to
the sound of one’s own breath (which may be heard by a fine
attuned and silent ear as H on the inspiration and S during the
out-breath).
Whether truly the sounds of inspiration and expiration can
be best evoked through the contrast of the H and S sounds in
the traditional formula, or whether the exercise only directs us
to form this association, this, once established, serves as a basis
for the subtle and truly profound spiritual exercise of shifting
between concentration on the sense of self (with expiration) and
on the divine (while visualizing the alternating courses of the
breath in the body).
As in other Tantric exercises the breath is used here both
as reminding factor and for the activation of subtle currents of
prana, and for the evocation of coming to the center of oneself,
intermittently dissolving into space and becoming oblivious to
the surrounding world.
Transcendental Meditation
“Transcendental Meditation,” taught by Yogi Maharishi Ma-

hesh, may well be the most popularly known and most widely
practiced form of meditation in the U.S. in the eighties. Though
not described in any book that I know, there are probably more
reports on the effects of T.M. in the scientific journals than any
other kind of meditation.
From descriptions of practitioners I can say that it cultivates
the a-conceptual state by focusing on the fresh arising (“bub-
bling up”) of thought during mental repetition of an individu-
ally appropriate mantram received in the course of an initiation
ceremony.
V. BUDDHISM
We may say that at the time of its inception Buddhism was to

earlier Indian spirituality what Christianity was to be to earlier
Judaism: nothing new in the deepest sense—yet at the same time
a contrasting formulation, and a spiritual and cultural explosion.
The main contrast between the older Upanishadic formulation
and Buddhism lies in the symbolization of the ultimate as self in
the former and the alternative formulation of the deepest truth
as non‑self in the latter.
Despite the notion that all three of the yanas or major
schools in Buddhism have originated in the transmission of Bud-
dha’s Enlightenment, the closest we can come to a conception
of primeval Buddhism is through its imprint on the so-called
Theravada Tripitaka—recorded in the first century bc in Sri
Lanka.
Mahayana Buddhism, which makes its historical appearance
in the second century after Christ (and after about six centuries of
Buddhism) represents a renaissance within the Buddhist tradition
and a new spiritual growth-burst, manifest in a profusion of ac-
complished Bodhisattvas or saints and a no less striking profusion
of Sanskrit Mahayana sutras. There is, with the rise of Mahayana
Buddhism, a shift from dependence on self alone for salvation to a
relative dependency on an outside power—and correspondingly
an appeal to prayer (most apparent today in Pure Land or Jodo
Shin Buddhism).
Though metta (love) was part of Buddhist practice from
the beginning and compassion is from very early emphasized
through the Jataka tales (stories about Buddha’s earlier lives), the
practice of compassion and generosity is further emphasized in
the Mahayana—both as qualities of the perfected individual and
ingredients of the path. Related to this is the formulation of the
“Bodhisattva ideal,” which the Mahayana sets in contrast to the
earlier “Arhat ideal.”49 Though the concept of an “Arhat ideal” is
not part of the Theravada teaching (nor does it occur in the Pali
canon) the Mahayanists contrast the general aspiration of Hina
yanists toward individual Enlightenment with the (Bodhisattic)
willingness to renounce personal Enlightenment for the sake of
the more important and deeper commitment toward the Enlight-
enment of All.
The Bodhisattva vow (to strive for Enlightenment for the sake
of all beings) may be understood as a skillful means of counterbal-
ancing the practitioner’s “spiritual materialism”: a grasping for
enlightenment that gets in Enlightenment’s way.
Vajrayana or Tantric Buddhism represents still a third de-
velopment in Buddhism, strongly influenced by the Yogacara
school as well as by Madhyamika philosophy. In contrast to the
earlier visions of Enlightenment as an overcoming of the ego or
as heroic compassion, the ideal of the Vajrayana is that of the
Mahasiddha. The short legendary biographies we have of the
early Mahasiddhas show individuals who have ripened to the
point of developing special powers, and who convey a more
earthy and less striking spirituality than typical religious saints,
suggesting that a re-assimilation of the ego has taken place after
renunciation.
After having come to dominate Indian spirituality through
the propagation of Buddhism through king Asoka, Buddhism
practically disappeared from India through the conquest of the
Islamic Moghuls who aggressively “converted” the world to
Islam just as the Aryans had done before. The Theravada tradi-
tion dominates today in Ceylon, Burma and generally speaking
in South East Asia. Though Mahayana Buddhism extended to
Malaysia and Thailand, it has mostly thrived throughout the
centuries in China and Japan. Since the communist revolution in
China, it is of course more alive today in Japan, and it is through
Zen that living Buddhism first came to America. It may be said
that the Japan/California bridge of the fifties and sixties was the
most significant event in Western Buddhism after the establish-
ment of the Buddhist Study Society in England, and represented
a meeting between the mind of the new age pioneers and the
vitality of Japanese lineages.
Despite the doctrinal differences between the Buddhist and
Indian Tantric traditions, both developed more or less at the same
time and are characterized by similar elements: a balance between
meditation and devotion, the use of visualization and mantra,
emphasis in mudra and liturgy, as well as what we may call “en-
ergy yoga”—a sphere of practice and experience connected to the
subtle nadis and “energy centers” or chakras (zalung).
As in the Indian Tantra, it is the claim of Buddhist Tantra (also
designated sometimes as esoteric Buddhism or Mantrayana) to be
a quick way: yet as the Dalai Lama rightly observes: “The Tantra
is a quick path for those who are fit to receive it, but not for those
who cannot bear the difficulties of the long path.”
As in the case of Mahayana, Vajrayana Buddhism claims to
have originated in Shakyamuni Buddha’s esoteric teachings, and
Buddha is reported to have prophesied the advent of Padma
sambhava. Padmasambhava—whom the Tibetans usually call
Guru Rinpoche (and Gurdjieff in his Tales of Belzebub50 called
“Saint Lama”)—not only implanted the Tantric teachings in Tibet
but transmuted the earlier shamanistic Bon influence, absorbing it
into the Buddhist context. He is venerated in Tibetan Buddhism
as a Buddha of particular importance to our times (in view of the
depth of obscuration of the Kaliyuga).
Yet neither was Padmasambhava the only lineage-bearer who
brought teachings from India to Tibet, nor was Tibet the only
country to which the Indian Vajrayana migrated. Only that, as
Padmasambhava towers among the great Siddhas, Tibet may be
said to tower among the countries in which the Vajrayana devel-
oped; not only the teachings of the Tibetan orders may be said
the more complete than those of the Japanese Tantric schools
(Tendai and Shingon), but the geographic and political isola-
tion of the country and the degree of the spiritual orientation
of Tibetan culture throughout the centuries turned the “land of
snows” into a veritable hothouse for the Vajrayana teachings un-
til the time of the Chinese invasion. Besides the refinement that
this involved in terms of skillful means and in the expression of
wisdom teachings, I think this is reflected in what may be called
the spiritual pedagogy of the approach, which sees Buddhism as
a nine-layered pyramid of progressive teachings ranging from
Hinayana to Ati yoga.
Since the Chinese invasion in the fifties, the diaspora of
Tibetans may be regarded as holding a potential of particular
relevance to the West, in view of the potency and continuity of
the lineage preserved in the spiritual hot‑house of the isolated
land of snows.
To speak of Buddhist meditation is to speak of the meditation
practices in the three differentiated forms of Buddhism designat-
ed as Hinayana, Mahayana and Vajrayana, also conceived as the
three “turnings of the Wheel of Dharma” in Buddha’s career.51
Though the Mahayana arose in critical reaction toward the
limitations of the traditionalists of its time, and the Vajrayana (the
expression of which culminated in Tibet) claims that the teach-
ings in the Buddhist Tantras surpass the effectiveness of those ex-
pressed in the Hinayana and Mahayana Sutras, we may say that in
Buddhism all three forms are canonical (unlike the case of Chris-
tianity, the canon of which is limited to what entered it before the
fourth century). Also, it is important to consider a point of view
emphasized in the Nyingmapa tradition of the Vajrayana to the
effect that the different forms of Buddhist meditation should be
viewed as comprising a single graded system. Thus while Ati yoga,
the highest teaching within the Vajrayana, is considered the most
direct approach to enlightenment, it is recognized that only some
have the capacity to practice it without the preparation afforded
by the three outer and three inner Tantras. All of these, in turn, re-
quire the development of mental one-pointedness—as cultivated,
for instance, in the Theravada practice of anapanasati.
1. Theravada Buddhism
I speak of Theravada Buddhism rather than “Hinayana” to

avoid the pejorative connotation of the latter term (introduced by
Mahayanists to indicate a narrowness of the approach in contrast
to the “wide way” of the Bodhisattva ideal). It also seems appro-
priate in view of its etymology—with its reference to the most
traditional monastic discipline in Buddhism and the “ancients.”
We do not know how well the present day Theravada tradition
(which dominates in S.E. Asia) reflects the original teachings of
the Buddha, as it claims to do most faithfully. Five centuries after
the Buddha, the Mahayanists thought them too literal-minded
and too isolated in their concern for personal enlightenment, and
today it is clear that the practice of Theravadins emphasizes one
of its two original meditation disciplines to the detriment of the
other—for the corpus of ancient Hinayana meditation comprised
not only vipassana but also concentrative meditation or shama-
tha—entailing the cultivation of the absorptions or jhanas. It may
be important to take this into account because again in Tibetan
Buddhism it is emphasized that true Vipassana (i.e. meditation
which, beyond attention to the evanescent mental phenomena,
pursues spiritual insight) needs a background of Shamata to be
successful.52
Shamata
A clear and concise account of Shamata in the Theravada tra-
dition has been provided by Amadeo Solé‑Lerís in his book Tran-
quillity & Insight.53 The quieting of the mind in this early tradi-
tion involves focus on a specific series of forty objects. Among
these, some are appropriate only to early stages of concentration
(designated as the rupaloka) while very few (space, emptiness,
awareness, neither perception nor non‑perception) constitute
appropriate supports to attain the formless level. Some of these
are exclusive to the realm of form and that of the body: virtue,
generosity, death and the four “immeasurables”: compassion,

sympathy, joy, and equanimity. Still fewer supports are appropri-
ate for the higher concentration in arupaloka. Concentration on
the breath is a particularly important support for meditation and
is retained in present day Theravada practice as a preliminary to
Vipassana proper.
Anapanasati
In anapanasati (from sati = mindfulness/recall and a-na +
apa-na = the in‑breath and out‑breath) it is not only a matter of
attention but also of non‑doing, and inasmuch as the individual
is instructed to only breathe and to respect the spontaneity of the
breath rather than controlling it.
One of the specific forms of anapanasati (transmitted by the
Burmese U Ba Khin) directs the practitioner to focus his attention
in the buconasal region—at first feeling the impingement of the
air on the nostrils and the skin in general, later focusing rather
on sensations behind the skin (such as tumefaction, vibration,
pulsation, heat, etc.), and then on the extension of these subtler
sensations to the crown of the head and to the whole body. Just
as in the Taoist tradition of acupuncture the buconasal region is
seen as an endpoint of all meridians, this Theravada technique
seems to acknowledge its role as a sort of switch in the circuit of
bio-energy, a trigger for the awakening of pranic phenomena.
Vipassana
The scriptural basis for Vipassana is found in the Satipatthana
sutta—or sutra on the four foundations of mindfulness—in the
Pali Canon.
Contemplation of the body is, according to this practice, not
limited to the times of sitting meditation. The practitioner is en-
joined, rather, to continuously be cognizant of his posture, of his
movements, of his breathing, even of his intentions as he moves.
Particularly emphasized in sitting meditation, however, are the
contemplation of feelings, the contemplation of mental states and

of mental events—particularly of the five hindrances, the five ag-
gregates and the seven factors of enlightenment. We have reason
to believe that the whole Abhidharma with its classification of
mental events constitutes a crystallization of the experience of
early Theravadins practicing Vipassana.
Two forms of Vipassana are most widespread today in the
Theravada. One, originated by Mahasi Sayadaw (in mid-century),
enjoins concentration on the rising and falling of the abdominal
wall at the epigastrium with the in-flowing and out-going of the
breath. Awareness of this rising and falling is sustained in paral-
lel to a panoramic awareness of the present moment. The other
approach, taught decades ago by U Ba Khin in Burma, has been
claimed to have constituted an esoteric tradition since the days
of Buddha, and focuses predominantly on subtle body‑sensations
from the crown of the head to the soles of the feet.
Though Vipassana is usually translated by “insight,” the
word insight in this context has a different connotation from
the current psychological one—which makes reference to an ex-
periential apprehension of the motives underlying our stream of
mental activity and action, about the way different psychological
factors come together in our personality or about the origins of
these in childhood. It rather stands here for a keen perception of
certain features of all experience, certain characteristics that cut
across all mental states: suffering, impermanence and insubstan-
tiality, no‑self or “emptiness.” The practice of observing the flow
of experience involves an examination of this experience that
amounts to an experiential verification of the basic tenets of the
dharma and an undoing of the “ignorance” or mental obscura-
tion that leads us to attribute permanence to the impermanent
and individuality to the ever changing flow of life. The practice
of Vipassana, thus, goes beyond the now widespread practice
of awareness in the field of psychotherapy: while it emphasizes
the importance of attention to the body and to mental events,
it is not merely a practice of being mindful of what is present

in the sensory emotional, intellective and motivational domain,
but stresses a particular attitude in which these are to be con-
templated: an attitude of not fixing the inner‑gaze on anything
in particular nor rejecting anything: a “choiceless” awareness (to
borrow the term introduced by Krishnamurti in modern times)
and, above all, an attitude of detachment and equanimity.
2. The Mahayana
As we move from the Hinayana to the Mahayana, meditation

continues to be pursued in the context of Buddha’s “eightfold
noble path” comprising understanding and action as well as con-
templation. Also, as in the Hinayana, there is in the Mahayana
the practice known as the “triple refuge” or the taking refuge in
the “three jewels”—Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. This may be
regarded as a meditative formula emphasizing surrender. And
just as the Hinayana emphasizes the cultivation of metta (loving
kindness), also the Mahayana does, though here love and com-
passion are further emphasized through a different conception
of the ideal person: the Bodhisattva, who is willing to renounce
personal enlightenment for the enlightenment of all beings. A
specific practice inspired by the Bodhisattva ideal is the cultiva-
tion of bodhichitta, which may be also regarded as a form of
meditation emphasizing intention (and equivalent to kavannah or
holy intention in Judaism). It may be summarized in the “Bodhi
sattva vow” dedicating one’s pursuit of enlightenment to the
enlightenment of all beings.
Undoubtedly the most significant Mahayana school in our
days is that of Zen (Japan) or Chan (China), the very names of
which derive from the Sanskrit Dhyana for meditation. I will con-
centrate here on the main practice of Zen, also called Zazen.
Zazen
In one of the lectures by Suzuki Roshi (founder of the Tas-
sahara monastery in California) that was posthumously published
in Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind,54 he says:
The most important thing in taking the Zazen posture is to keep

your spine straight. Your ears and your shoulders should be in one
line. Relax your shoulders, and push up towards the ceiling with
the back of your head. And you should pull your chin in. When
your chin is tilted up, you have not strength in your posture; you
are probably dreaming. Also to gain strength in your posture, press
your diaphragm down towards your hara, or lower abdomen.
This will help you maintain your physical and mental balance.
When you try to keep this posture, at first you may find some dif-
ficulty breathing naturally, but when you get accustomed to it you
will be able to breathe naturally and deeply.
Your hands should form the “cosmic mudra.” If you put your
left hand on top of your right, middle joints of your middle fingers
together, and touch your thumbs lightly together (as if you held a
piece of paper between them), your hands will make a beautiful
oval. You should keep this universal mudra with great care, as if
you were holding something very precious in your hand. Your hands
should be held against your body, with your thumbs at about the
height of your navel. Hold your arms freely and easily, and slightly
away from your body, as if you held an egg under each armpit
without breaking it.
You should not be tilted sideways, backwards, or forwards. You
should be sitting straight up as if you were supporting the sky with
your head. This is not just form or breathing. It expresses the key
point of Buddhism. It is a perfect expression of your Buddha nature.
If you want true understanding of Buddhism, you should practice
this way. These forms are not a means of obtaining the right state
of mind. To take this posture itself is the purpose of our practice.
When you have this posture, you have the right state of mind, so
there is no need to try to attain some special state. When you try to
attain something, your mind starts to wander about somewhere else.
When you do not try to attain anything, you have our own body and
mind right here. A Zen master would say, “Kill the Buddha!” Kill
the Buddha if the Buddha exists somewhere else. Kill the Buddha,
because you should resume your own Buddha nature.
The most important point is your own physical body. If you
slump, you will lose your self. Your mind will be wandering about
somewhere else; you will not be in your body. This is not the way.
We must exist right here, right now! This is the key point. You must
have your own body and mind. Everything should exist in the right
place, in the right way. Then there is no problem. If the microphone
I use when I speak exists somewhere else, it will not serve its pur-
pose. When we have our body and mind in order, everything else
will exist in the right place, in the right way.”
We see a continuity here with the emphasis on asana in hatha
yoga, for even when a single position is practiced, the principle of
spiritually appropriate posture is present, as also that of mindful-
ness.
So try always to keep the right posture, not only when you
practice Zazen, but in all your activities. Take the right posture
when you are driving your car, and when you are reading. If you
read in a slumped position, you cannot stay awake long. Try. You
will discover how important it is to keep the right posture. This is
the true teaching.
In addition to body awareness, Zazen involves a special em-

phasis on breathing:
When we practice Zazen, all that exists is the movement of the

breathing, but we are aware of this movement. You should not be
absent‑minded. But to be aware of the movement does not mean
to be aware of your small self, but rather of your universal nature,
or Buddha nature.
Also, Zazen involves a suspension of conceptualizations:
Here there is no idea of time and space. Time and space are
one. You may say, “I must do something this afternoon,” but actually
there is no “this afternoon.” We do things one after the other, that
is all. There is no such time as “this afternoon” or “one o’clock” or
“two o’clock.” At one o’clock you eat your lunch. To eat lunch is
itself one o’clock. You will be somewhere, but that place cannot be
separated from one o’clock.
Also, there is in Zazen an experience of internal freedom, a

relinquishment of control on the part of the “little ego”: “To give
your sheep or cow a large, spacious meadow is the way to control
him,” Suzuki explains. Relinquishment of control involves a shift
in the locus of control from the ego to the whole being.
The element of shamata in Zen goes beyond the stilling of
thought: “Because we enjoy all aspects of life as an unfolding of
big mind, we do not care for any excessive joy. So we have im-
perturbable composure.”
Yet, paradoxical as it may seem, the attitude of non‑doing
(wu‑wei) enjoined by Zen cannot be arrived at except through a
process in which there is a certain amount of struggle: there needs
to be some effort before effortlessness may be achieved. Also, in
the course of practice the hindrances themselves become a chal-
lenge and an occasion for the development of an acceptance of
things as they are.
A discussion of Zazen or “just sitting” would not be complete
without some remarks that make it understood to the extent of
which this is not to be taken to be purely a matter of psychologi-
cal gymnastics but a means to prajna—that is to say, a situation
conducive to wisdom or insight into the nature of the mind. In
one of the earliest texts in Zen literature—sometimes called the
Platform Sutra—the issue is made very clear through Hui Neng’s
account of how he came to be the Sixth Patriarch. In sum, he
emerged the winner in a contest set up by the Fifth Patriarch to
access the spiritual insight of his disciples. While the loser ex-
pressed his understanding of practice as a dusting and polishing
the mirror of the mind, he who was to become the Sixth Patriarch
went deeper in stating that there was not even such a mirror, all
being void.
After relating a brief autobiography, the Hui Neng sutra
begins precisely by addressing the subject of prajna—or more
specifically the ‘Maha Prajnaparamita’—‘the Great Transcenden-
tal Wisdom.’
“Learned Audience, the Wisdom of Enlightenment is inher-

ent in every one of us. It is because of the delusion under which
our mind works that we fail to realize it ourselves, and that we
have to seek the advice and the guidance of enlightened ones
before we can know our own Essence of Mind. You should know
that so far as Buddha‑nature is concerned, there is no difference
between an enlightened man and an ignorant one. What makes
the difference is that one realizes it, while the other is ignorant
of it.”55
Because Westerners today are prone to take meditation tech-
niques out of the context of teachings that constitute an essential
context to them, I think it is important to emphasize that Zen
meditation should not be divorced from the intent of the un-
derstanding of the teachings concerning voidness. Even a wrong
conception of voidness is regarded critical, as is clear from Wei
Lang’s warnings:
Learned Audience, when you hear me talk about the Void, do

not at once fall into the idea of vacuity (because it involves the her-
esy of the doctrine of annihilation). It is of utmost importance that
we should not fall into this idea, because when a man sits quietly
and keeps his mind blank he will abide in a state of ‘Voidness,’ of
‘Indifference’.
Learned Audience, the illimitable Void of the universe is ca-
pable of holding myriads of things of various shape and form, such
as the sun, the moon, stars, mountains, rivers, worlds, springs,
rivulets, bushes, woods, good men, bad men, Dharmas pertaining
to goodness or badness, Deva planes, hells, great oceans, and all the
mountains of the mahameru. Space takes in all these, and so does
the voidness of our nature.
Koans
In light of the goal of realizing the wisdom that apprehends
consciousness in its quiescent and undifferentiated state, all medi-
tation is, then, a preliminary—a favorable condition in which
transcendental insight may arise.
As a bridge between the dharma view and meditation proper

stands the koans.
While the Soto school of Zen emphasizes “just sitting,” we
may say Rinzai does so with the instrumentality of the koan, em-
phasizing the use of verbal statements to facilitate insight into the
nature of the mind—all koans being intuitive and poetical ways of
transmitting this fundamental insight. A koan is not something to
be thought about but rather concentrated upon until it opens by
itself or—to use a traditional metaphor—until we understand its
meaning spontaneously in the same way as we would recognize a
friend in the street. This understanding comes not from reason-
ing but from the mental state brought about through sustained
concentration.
I think that D.T. Suzuki’s autobiographical account of work-
ing with a koan in The Training of the Zen Buddhist Monk56 may
convey the nature of the practice better than abstract consider-
ations:
I was busy these four years with various writings, including

translating Dr. Carus’ Gospel of Buddha into Japanese, but all the
time the koan was worrying at the back of my mind, it was, without
any doubt, my chief preoccupation, and I remember sitting in a field
leaning against the right stack and thinking, and if I could not un-
derstand Mu, life would have no meaning for me. It often happens
that some kind of crisis is necessary in one’s life to make one put
forth all one’s strength in solving the koan. This is well illustrated
by a story in the book Keik‑yoku Soden (Stories of Brambles and
Thistles) compiled by one of Hakuin Zenshi’s disciples, telling of
various prickly experiences in practicing Zen. “A monk came from
Okinawa to study Zen under Suio, one of Hakuin’s great disciples
and a rough and strong‑minded fellow. It was he who taught Hakuin
how to paint. The monk stayed with Suio for three years working
on the koan of the sound of one hand. Eventually, when the time
for him to go back to Okinawa was fast approaching and he had
still not solved his koan, he got very distressed and came to Suio
in tears. The Master consoled him, saying, ‘Don’t worry. Postpone
your departure for another week and go on sitting with all your
might.’ Seven days passed, but still the koan remained unsolved.
Again the monk came to Suio, who counselled him to postpone
his departure to yet another week. When that week was up, he still
had not solved the koan, the Master said, ‘There are many ancient
examples of people who have attained satori after three weeks, so
try a third week.’ But the third week passed and still the koan was
not solved, so the Master said, ‘Now try five more days.’
But the five days passed, and the monk was no nearer solving
the koan, so finally the Master said, ‘This time try three more days
and if after three days you have still not solved the koan, then you
must die.’ Then, for the first time, the monk decided to devote the
whole of whatever life was left to him in solving the koan. And after
three days he solved it.
Suzuki’s own experience in the solving of his first koan, was

another case where it is possible to think that “man’s extremity
is God’s opportunity.”
This crisis or extremity came for me when it was finally settled

that I should go to America to help Dr. Carus with his translation of
the Tao Te Ching. I realized that the rohatsu sesshin57 that winter58
might be my last chance to go to sesshin and that if I did not solve
my koan then I might never be able to do so. I must have put all my
spiritual strength into that sesshin.
Up till then I had always been conscious that Mu was in my
mind. But so long as I was conscious of Mu it meant that I was
somehow separate from Mu, and that is not a true samadhi. But
towards the end of that session, about the fifth day, I ceased to be
conscious of Mu. I was one with Mu, identified with Mu, so that
there was no longer the separateness implied by being conscious of
Mu. This is the real state of samadhi.
But this samadhi alone is not enough. You must come out of
that state, be awakened from it, and that awakening is Prajna. That
moment of coming out of the samadhi and seeing it for what it is—
that is satori. When I came out of that state of samadhi during that
sesshin I said, ‘I see. This is it.’
I have no idea how long I was awakened from it by the sound of
the bell. I went to sanzen with the Roshi, and he asked me some of
the sassho or test questions about Mu. I answered all of them except
one, which I hesitated over, and at once he sent me out. But the next
morning early I went to sanzen again, and this time I could answer
it. I remember that night as I walked back from the monastery to my
quarters in the Kigenin temple, seeing the trees in the moonlight.
They looked transparent and I was transparent too.
3. Vajrayana
Preliminary Practices
An integral part of the pedagogy of the Vajrayana is the so-
called preliminary practices. Among these, the ordinary prelimi-
naries are forms of meditation of the reflective kind that we find
in any tradition and which amount to a deep consideration of
certain issues and an intent of holding them in mind in the course
of ordinary life. Thus the practitioner is enjoined to contemplate
the precious opportunity involved in human existence and to ap-
preciate the need to take advantage of it against a background of
alternatives not conducive to spiritual practice: life as an animal,
for instance, or in other realms of existence. (Gods are regarded
in Buddhism as happy, but bound to samsara, and not sharing
the human privilege of self‑perfecting.) Equally basic to the de-
velopment of proper motivation is, according to the Tibetans, the
contemplation of the inevitability of one’s own death.
The more specific preliminaries (grouped together under
the name of nyundro) involve various forms of meditation upon
which I will only touch briefly:
a) First of these is the practice of refuge which is common to
all Buddhism but in the Vajrayana is expanded in many ways. At
the outer level it involves prostrations—or rather the simultaneity
of prostrations, concentration on the first three chakras, contem-
plation of the refuge on the three jewels and, beyond all these, an
inner disposition of surrender. Besides, it is extended to include
the refuge in one’s Guru and in other spiritual beings (Yidams
or tutelary deities, Dakinis and protectors); furthermore, it is
expanded from an outer or literal meaning of Buddha, Dharma
and Sangha to progressive levels of subtlety in their understand-
ing. Thus, while in the Hinayana refuge, surrender to the Dharma

means an attitude of trusting the teachings, surrender to the
Dharma in Vajrayana may be practiced with a connotation of a
surrender to cosmic lawfulness, something equivalent to the Tao-
ist surrender to the Tao, or the Christian surrender to God’s will.
In a similar fashion, surrender to the Sangha, which in Hinayana
represents a receptivity in face of the community of monks and
nuns, in Vajrayana invites an act of surrender to the Communion
of Saints in Enlightenment.
b) Vajrasattva meditation—another practice included in the
nyundro aligns Buddhism with practically every other form of
spirituality in the recognition that it gives to purification and
atonement as avenues to higher consciousness. Confession is here
linked to the visualization of a Buddha above the top of the practi-
tioner’s head, from whom light descends through the crown into
the practitioner’s body as he repeats the Vajrasattva mantra.
c) But most important of all preliminary practices is one
that continues to be a background to every step of the Vajrayana
path—the cultivation of bodhicitta, which is a form of meditation
that focuses on the compassionate intention of working towards
personal enlightenment for the benefit of all. It is believed that
this intentional cultivation of compassion is most significant to
the success of the specific practices that comprise the Vajrayana
path until spontaneous bodhicitta arises from the experience of
emptiness.
d) Another practice—mandala offering—also echoes a wide-
spread practice of offerings in religious life, only that here the
offering is mind-created through visualization.
e) Most important in the nyundro is the practice of guru yoga,
which may be said to constitute much more than a preliminary,
for it will be emphasized even at the final stages of the path. In
it the practitioner cultivates a receptivity to a direct transmission
of consciousness from his meditation Master.
Deity Yoga
We may say that just as Tibet stands between the Extreme
Orient and the Near East, also in the spiritual world, it stands
between Western prophetic spirituality and the Eastern yogic way.
It may be said that the Tibetan Tantric teachings are fifty percent
yoga and fifty percent religion.
The devotional aspect of the Tibetan way is, I think, the most
elaborate in the world, in that deity yoga brings together a living
mantric tradition with the most profound devotional creativity
(in which—as in Indian Tantra as well—the life of the devotion is
interwoven with visualization and with concentrative meditation)
with “energy yoga.”
The Tantric way begins with evocation and invocation, and
ends in identification of mind and body with the evoked deity.
Here is a description of Deity yoga or Yidam visualization
taken from Tsong Kapa’s account of the so called “development
stage”:
At first (the yogi) should visualize the tutelary deity in gradual

steps till the whole body of the tutelary is completed. If the tutelary
deity visualized has many faces and arms the yogi may disregard
the others and concentrate on visualizing the two main arms and
the main face. There are two ways of visualizing the tutelary one’s
body, the upward process from feet to head and the downward
process from head to feet. The tutelary body should be envisioned
as a whole clearly and vividly. At first, however, the yogi should
visualize the body not in specific detail but the body at once com-
plete; then softly and loosely hold onto the visualization without
any distraction. If any disturbing or diversified thought arises liable
to cause the meditator to follow it, the meditator should be aware
and bring his mind back to the object of meditation. If the visualiza-
tion (mind picture) becomes unclear the yogi should freshen it by
seeing it vividly until it becomes clear again.... Having mastered the
above mentioned sketchy visualizations the yogi should then visual-
ize the other faces, arms, adornments, etc. until all the details are
completed and perfect. Thereafter the mother tutelary deity should
be visualized, then the other deities.
Eventually the yogi is able to picture clearly and vividly all

the deities and the mandala and the objects in a complete beyond-
measure palace, general and specific, all at once in perfect concen-
tration. The yogi is required to reach this stage.
Now the teaching of the tutelary pride:
The yogi should raise the tutelary pride and think to himself
“I am the Buddha so and so.” And concentrate on this. If the vision
comes unclearly the yogi should freshen it again. In the beginning
this meditation with effort and stress is needed, later on the yogi
will be able to maintain a stable feeling of the tutelary pride after
the meditation period in his daily activities. When he reaches this
stage, his mental power of retaining visualization will be strong
enough to withstand the fluctuating circumstances and he will
maintain the tutelary pride in between meditation periods. The vi-
sualization practice and tutelary pride practice should be exercised
alternatively.
Though all deities are expressions of Buddhahood a par-

ticular one may be of special appropriateness for the individual
practitioner, and spiritual teachers know what “tutelar deity” or
Yidam to assign to each. It should be pointed out at this place,
however, that deity yoga is not in the Tantric system something
independent from formless meditation or even from the develop-
ment of wisdom (equated in this context, with the understanding
of emptiness), a fact echoed already in the fact that the instruc-
tions to visualization guide the practitioner to let the deities
materialize out of the void.
The final aim of the practice—further perfected during the
“fulfillment stage” is the transformation of the practitioner’s
body, voice and mind into the deity—so that all sound becomes
mantra and all visual perception part of the mandala of the en-
lightened qualities.
Formless Meditation
The contribution of the Vajrayana does not end in the pro-
duction of the vastest and most sophisticated religious apparatus.
It also contains the most elaborate teachings of meditation in

the form of Mahamudra and (among the Nyingmapa) the Great
Perfection teachings or Dzogchen.
Mahamudra
Mahamudra is a gradual path comprising four phases, each
of which is further subdivided into three levels of proficiency:
one-pointedness, non-conceptualization, one taste and non-
meditation.
The beginning of the practice is development of mental quiet
(Zhi‑ne). Once shamata is established, it is possible to proceed to
Vipassana (Lhag‑thong/lhag mthong)—in which the concentrated
mind focuses on its own quiescent state.
In mental quiescence your mind has become like a clear mir-

ror. With penetrative insight you examine the nature of this mir-
ror and the images in it. The way of looking is slightly different
for these two. In mental quiescence your eyes should be looking
straightforward, relaxed and in focus. For penetrative insight look
more intensely and slightly upwards. This uplifts and sharpens the
mind. The difference is like between your arm when it is at ease
and when flexed.59
The mind cannot see itself as a subject confronting an object

however; as Kalu Rinpoche has said, “to observe the mind means
that mind remains in itself, without mental fabrication, resting in
its own nature.”60
When one leaves mind to rest in itself, in its own nature without
any mental fabrication, it therefore rests in its own emptiness, in
its own clarity; that is Mahamudra. This Mahamudra is also called
ordinary wisdom or ordinary awareness.
I quote from Hopkins’ Meditation on Emptiness61:
Once an initial intuition of nature of mind is obtained, the task

of the meditator is to sustain this cognition in the presence of mental
activity and looking at the thinking mind. During a long stage in the
life of a meditator the perception of phenomena and the recognition

of emptiness are alternating states of mind, though in the end the
goal is the realization of identity of the “two truths” and the abil-
ity to sustain the view of emptiness conjunctly with the perception
of multiplicity. Eventually all aspects of experience and all mental
states come to be perceived as no different from the mind that
perceives them. It is that [which] is called “one taste” realization—
which in turn needs to be cultivated until its realization is completely
stable and thus there is no need for intentional meditation.
This last stage of practice is one of further familiarization

with the emptiness that was initially and directly cognized on
the stage of non‑conceptualization (or “path of seeing”). This
amounts to a deepening of the Prajnaparamita view:
Although phenomena appeared to be inherently existent, he,

like a magician viewing his own creations, knows that all phenom-
ena are empty of inherent existence.62
Kalu Rinpoche explains63 in The Gem Ornament:
Once we have had the experience of the empty, clear and un-
impeded nature of mind itself, then there follows the experience
that all the contents of mind are merely expressions of mind nature,
rather than something in and of themselves ... then when an emo-
tion such as an attraction arises in the mind, it is perceived for what
it is, merely a manifestation of that empty, clear and unimpeded
mind nature. There is no need to ascribe to that emotion or desire
any reality in and of itself. There is no need to posit this emotion as
something other than an empty manifestation of an empty mind. We
are free from the necessity of being dominated by our emotions....
Dzogchen (Atiyoga)
In recent years the Dzogchen teachings are becoming increas-
ingly available and known in the West, yet comparably little has
been published thus far64 about this highest of the Tibetan teach-
ings. Thus seems a natural reflection of the fact that even in Tibet
the Dzogchen teachings have been regarded most esoteric.
Since the basic meditations in Dzogchen—Trekcho and Tog-

yal—have not been explained in print thus far, it would scarcely
be suitable that I include their description in this account of the
classical forms. In spite of that, however, it seemed to me that
some reference to the Dzogchen tradition in meditation could not
fail to be included along with Mahamudra, of which it may be
regarded as an alternative formulation—as well as a more direct
approach for those who happen to be suited or prepared.
As Clemente points out at the beginning of his introduc-
tion to Namkhai Norbu’s Dzogchen: The Self Perfected State,65
Dzogchen is a way that can be practiced without renouncing
anything and without commitment to “any activities that might
be incompatible with one’s normal daily life.”
Dzogchen shares with Mahamudra its point of departure
in mental stillness (Zhi‑ne) and it shares, too, its focus on the
understanding of the nature of the mind. Even more than in
Mahamudra, there is an emphasis in understanding—to the
point that it may be said that meditation is nothing other than
the deep understanding of the Dzogchen view, and the ability to
sustain the view in the midst of life in the world. This view, which
amounts to the understanding of Rigpa or intrinsic awareness, is
commonly expressed through the symbols of the crystal or the
mirror, both of which are empty and light‑manifesting: it may be
said that it is the very emptiness of the mirror that makes it reflec-
tive, and the emptiness of the crystal that makes it transparent,
and the practitioner is enjoined to identify with the translucent
matrix of mental events rather than with the particulars of ex-
perience.
In his commentary to the six verses to the Garab Dorje,
specifically on Garab Dorje’s statement that “The nature of the
phenomena is non‑dual, but each one, in its own state, is beyond
the limits of the mind,” Namkhai Norbu remarks that “although
there apparently exist an infinite number of things and phenom-
ena, their real nature is one and the same.”
Speaking of practice, Lama Norbu begins his statement point-

ing out that “The practice of Dzogchen is said to be ‘beyond ef-
fort’; one does not need to create, modify, or change anything,
but only to find oneself in the true condition of ‘what is.’”
Quoting from the Upadesha collection of Dzogchen teach-
ings he further explains that there are “four ways of continuing
66
in contemplation, known as the four ways of ‘leaving it just as

it is’”: “The first, which refers to the body, is said to be ‘like a
mountain.’”
There is a particular emphasis in Dzogchen upon the cultiva-
tion of the sense of space and infinity, and just as some Dzogchen
Tantras (sem de) emphasize the understanding of the essence
of mind, others (long de) emphasize space. The power of space
as an ego-solvent is invoked in the following verses from the
thirteenth-century Guru Chowang, who in Emptying the Depths
of Hell67 writes:
What misery to cling to delusions of a substantial reality!

Atone in the spaciousness of formless, concept-free pleasure.
What anxiety to ‘cling’ ‘to’ the duality of success and failure!
Atone in the spaciousness of the pure pleasure of sameness.
Forgetting the imperative of self-knowledge, obsessed by idle
pleasures,
How pitiful are sentient beings who have lost their ways!
Atone in the spaciousness of non-discrimination.
Though not a Buddhist book, Tarthang Tulku’s Time, Space

and Knowledge68 embodies a Dzogchen master’s appreciation
of space, and I think that it is appropriate to be mentioned here
since I don’t know of any published work so conducive to that
experiential understanding of space characteristically emphasized
by the Ati yoga teachings.
As in the esoteric traditions in general and in shamanism, the
element of mind-to-mind transmission is strong in the Dzogchen
lineage: “The master is inseparable from the state of knowledge,
and in Dzogchen one of the fundamental practices for develop-
ing contemplation is, in fact, the Guru Yoga, or the ‘Union with
the Master.’”
Tumo
Along with visualization practice and with formless medi-
tation, Tibetan yoga comprises an important contribution to
consciousness development that concerns itself with the move-
ment of prana in the nadis—Zalung in Tibetan. Such work is
particularly emphasized in the penultimate state of anuyoga in
the Nyingma system and is inseparable from what is called the
stage of fulfillment or completion that follows the practice of the
growth yoga or development stage, earlier described through a
quotation of Tsong Kapa. At this stage the object of the work is
to draw the prana inwards to the central channel and ultimately
to the heart region where it serves as a vehicle to the subtlest
consciousness—regarded as equivalent to that of the after death
state.
The beginning of energy yoga proper is the first of the six
yogas of Naropa, presented by Evans-Wentz in his Tibetan Yoga
and Secret Doctrines69 as the yoga of the “psychic heat.” Though
written descriptions are not sufficient for one interested in prac-
tice I quote a passage from Evans-Wentz for the purpose of giving
an idea of the resemblance between this practice and that of the
“circulation of the elixir” in Taoism.
Visualize at the center of the vacuous, filmy body, the vacuous

median‑nerve, the vacuousness symbolizing Reality in its true na-
ture (as Voidness); its colour red, symbolical of Bliss; transparently
bright, because its psychic functioning dissipateth the obscurations
of Ignorance; and in its perpendicular straightness symbolical of
the trunk of the Tree of Life. Visualize it, endowed with these four
characteristics, as extending from the Aperture of Brahma, (on the
crown of the head), to a place (i.e. the Muladhara‑chakra) four
fingers below the navel; its two ends flat and even; and to the right
and left of it, the right and left psychic‑nerves, (i.e. the pingala‑nadi
and the ida‑nadi), like the intestines of a lean sheep, extending over
the top of the brain and thence down to the front of the face, and
there ending in the two nasal apertures. Visualize the lower end of
these two subsidiary nerves as entering into the lower end of the
median‑nerve with a complete circular turn like that of the bottom
of the letter cha.
From the place, (the Sahasrara‑chakra), wherein these three
psychic‑nerves meet, on the crown of the head, (at the Aperture
of Brahma), imagine thirty‑two subsidiary psychic‑nerves radiating
downward. Imagine sixteen radiating upward from the throat psy-
chic‑center (the Visuddha‑chakra). Imagine eight radiating down-
ward from the heart psychic‑center, (the Anahata‑chakra). Imagine
sixty‑four radiating upward from the navel psychic‑center, (the
Manipura‑chakra). Each group of these subsidiary nerves is to be
visualized as appearing like the ribs of a parasol, or like the spokes
in the wheel of a chariot, of which the connecting parts are the
median‑nerve and the right and left psychic‑nerves.
The heart of the practice is the visualization of a red mantric

syllable in the lower belly to the point of feeling heat and, through
this, the ignition of “inner fire,” which is cultivated to the point
of it extending it higher and higher along the uma or “median-
nerve” until it melts in a white seed syllable at the crown of the
head. With the coming together these two “subtle substances”—
the fire and the nectar—the latter is felt to melt and drop through
the central channel, penetrating into the different chakras and
causing different qualities of bliss and also the opening of nadis
corresponding to each body segment.
Though only the first of the six yogas of Naropa, Tumo may
be said to be the most important one, since it is the foundation for
the rest, which, in turn, tend to flow spontaneously from it.
A Broad Spectrum of Practices

I think an account of the Tibetan meditation tradition would
not be complete without drawing attention to the extent to which
Vajrayana practice involves the simultaneous work along dif-
ferent lines, so that the tradition not only encompasses a broad
palette of resources, but enjoins the practitioner to use various
resources at the same time. To emphasize this and because of

its inspirational value I offer below the content of a short poem
by the seventh Dalai Lama (1708–1757), a poem of which the
translators/editors claim that it “contains within it the essentials
of sutra and Tantra.” It’s title is Instructions for Meditation on the
View of Emptiness, The Song of the Four Mindfulnesses, Causing
the Rain of Achievements to Fall.70 It’s first part concerns mind-
fulness of the teacher (not letting one’s mind astray and placing
it with admiration and respect on the Buddha‑like Guru). The
second speaks of mindfulness of the altruistic aspiration to high-
est enlightenment—i.e., the cultivation of bodhichitta and the
mind of enlightenment. The third mindfulness of one’s body as a
divine body (what is also called the cultivation of “divine pride”),
and the fourth, mindfulness of the view of emptiness, in which
it says that:
At the crossroads of the varieties of appearances and the sixth

consciousness, is seen the confusion of the baseless phenomena of
duality, the illusory spectacle of a deceiving magician. Not thinking
they are true, look to their entity of emptiness, not letting your mind
stray, place it within appearance and emptiness, making your atten-
tion unforgetful, maintain it within appearance and emptiness.
VI. TAOISM
We don’t know very much about remote origins of Taoism.

Certainly Lao Tse and Confucius were both the heirs of an ancient
religion and view in regard to the Tao, the polarity of yin/yang,
and the conception of the human being as a son of Heaven and
Earth. The Chinese attributed a remote antiquity to the mythical
times of the yellow emperor—times from which date the I Ching
and the knowledge of acupuncture. Yet we know from archeology
that Chinese civilization is not nearly so old as Indian civilization;
so we may think of Taoism as a result of an influx of teachings
from India, just as Buddhism was to spread at a later time. To as-

certain this is difficult in view of the fact that from ancient Taoism
we only have the books of the philosophers, while the books in
the tradition of esoteric Taoism and its knowledge of meditation
and “alchemy” are relatively modern. Wilhelm even thinks it is
possible that a remote Christian influence may have been at work
on it through the Nestorian church, which, we knew, was alive in
China71 (as well as in Afghanistan).72
The sociological reality of Taoism seems to be—in an outer
sense at least—negligible. While people defining themselves as
Taoists are fewer than the Confucionists, those experienced in
Taoist meditation are still fewer, for Taoism has constituted an
eminently esoteric tradition. It is difficult to evaluate what effect
it has had in the world, and it is interesting to point out the pro-
fusion of translations of the Tao Te King into English and other
languages in the course of the last decades. It is even harder to
evaluate the significance of the living lineage of esoteric Taoism
that may remain in the Orient.
I believe that it may be said of Taoism that it is particularly
appropriate to our time in the Western world, which is one that,
since the days of Goethe and romanticism, has shifted in part
from its earlier allegiance to a transcendent God toward an alle-
giance to nature. A possible translation for the word Tao is indeed
Nature. Today psychology is rediscovering spontaneity and the
Tao. Alan Watts was an influential spokesman of Taoism in Cali-
fornia, and the spirit of New Age has something of a neo‑Taoistic
element in it—with its non‑theistic language, in addition to its
emphasis in nature and its emphasis in spontaneity, that matches
that of psychotherapy.
Not only does Taoism share with Buddhism its non‑theistic
characteristic, but its formulation of the ultimate as voidness: Lao
Tse tells us—perhaps with some humor—that the Tao, empty in
nature, “is the grandmother of God.” This is not too different
from the views of Plotinus, of Dionysius the Areopagite (who
reminded us that the Deus absconditus is higher than any God

we can conceive), and the Kabbalah (to which the crown of
Adam Kadmon, the cosmic person, is the primal emanation of
the Ain Sof—the plenum/void). “The Name of Names cannot be
named”—begins the Tao Te King,73 and it ends with—“Those who
know don’t speak. Those who speak, don’t know.”
As Shamanism, practical Taoism may be said to be very medi-
cal in its language and style. I had the good fortune of studying
with Master Ch’u Fang Chu, disciple of 72nd patriarch. When
he migrated to California from Taiwan in the seventies, I invited
him to teach at my institute (SAT) in Berkeley and he would
tell us: “you are interested in enlightenment, but we Taoists are
interested in health. Once the energy is moving in the body as
it should, spiritual experience comes by itself, it is natural. The
problem then, is health.” As I quote him, I of course don’t mean
to question the thorough acquaintance of the Taoist “immortals”
with sacredness and transcendence. The Chinese emphasis on
health over anything “more special” is, I think, an expression
of the serenity and equanimity pervading the tradition and a
naturally esoteric attitude of the spirit through which “the secret
protects itself.”
It would be too specialized a matter to explain in detail the
process of Taoist meditation, yet it is important to note that it is
explicitly a process, much as in Tantrism: successive instructions
followed by the practitioner as he meditates take him through
the stages in a sequence that might be considered in analogy to
chemistry, stages in the elaboration first of an “inner microcosmic
elixir,” later a “macrocosmic elixir,” and ultimately, through the
fusion of “spirit,” “vitality” and “nature,” an “immortal fetus”
(only brought to the final stage when the fetus is ejected through
the top of the head as the practitioner plunges into ultimate
voidness).
The stages in such a process of “circulation of the light” are
only incompletely described in the book that has widely circu-
lated in the West as the result of Jung’s commentary in The Secret

of the Golden Flower.74 In spite of this, however, the book is a
great spiritual treasure.
Its first lines may be counted as part of a “rosetta stone” for
the understanding of the equivalence of Taoist conceptions in
related systems: “Master Lao‑tzu said: That which exists through
itself is called the Way (Tao). This intrinsic Being has neither
name nor shape. It is the one essence, the one primal spirit.”
Most characteristic of Taoists, meditation is the interpretation
of this ultimate beyond the “ten thousand things” as embryonic,
prenatal consciousness.
According to The Secret of the Golden Flower, “the secret
of the magic life consists in using action in order to attain non-
action.” And one might add: and then “action‑in‑non‑action,”
an action emerging from deep spontaneity and surrender to the
whole.
As in Tantrism, certain regions of the body are understood
as gates toward the experience of the divine. Three of these are
emphasized, and particularly “the purple hall of the city of jade”
situated between and behind the eyes where “dwells the God of
utmost Emptiness and Life.” The authors of the treatise tell us
that “Confucians call it the centre of emptiness; the Buddhists,
the terrace of living; the Taoists, the ancestral land, or the yellow
castle, or the dark pass, or the space of former heaven.”
The “deepest and most wonderful secret is to make the light
circulate.”
At the beginning of the text its author stresses the importance
of concentration in the frontal center, and quotes from an earlier
classic: “In the middle of the square inch lies the splendor.” “In
the purple hall (the square inch between the eyes) of the City of
Jade (the face) dwells the God of Utmost Emptiness and Life.”
Then the practitioner learns to circulate the light, which, if
made to circulate long enough will crystallize into the “natural
spirit-body.”
The circulation of the light follows from grasping the primal

spirit, which is found by concentration in the “square inch.” Only
the primal spirit and true nature are beyond time and space and
beyond the opposites of light and darkness. One who has envi-
sioned human nature’s “original face” tarries no longer in earth,
hell or heaven.
The Way of the Elixir, the author continues, involves three
ingredients: water, fire and earth. Spirit-fire for action, thought-
earth for substance, and the seed-water of the fetal condition as
foundation.
Just as one can perceive a similar pattern in the Tibetan
practice of Tumo and practices of the inner‑fire in non-Buddhist
Indian Tantrism, there is a similarity between these and the Chi-
nese method of elevating the fire. To one who wishes to form a
panoramic view of meditation, it is refreshing to note the differ-
ences, however, which may be taken as differences in symbolism
or in means of evocation and stimulation of a single process.
While in the Indian practices it is the fire of the manipura that
is taken up to the moon‑like soma in the ajna chakra and which,
in melting drips refreshing and filling with bliss the successive
body segments below it, in Taoism the upward progression is
viewed as a series of transmutations. First, in the “lower tan t’ien
under the navel, the “generative force is sublimated into vital-
ity,” then in the middle tan t’ien (cauldron) in the solar plexus,
vitality is turned into spirit; finally in the “upper cauldron” the
fire from the base of the trunk makes spirit ready for its flight
into space.
More complete than The Secret of the Golden Flower is, I
think, Charles Luk’s translation of The Secrets of Cultivating
Essential Nature and Eternal Life75 by Taoist Master Chao Pi
Ch’en. Its sixteen chapters describe the process of spiritual al-
chemy from beginning to end “in order to leap over the mortal
to the undying divine state.” Its pages, like those of Taoist scrip-
tures in general, are full of the difficult language that was also
characteristic of Western alchemy—originally designed to make

the teachings not accessible to those unsuited to them. I quote
something from Charles Luk’s summary of the early stages of
the process:
Taoist alchemy forsakes the worldly way of life by preventing

the generative force which produces the generative fluid from fol-
lowing its ordinary course which satisfies such sexual desire and
procreates offspring. As soon as this force moves to find its usual
outlet, it is turned back and then driven by the inner fire, kindled
by regulated breathing, into the microcosmic orbit for sublimation.
This orbit begins at the base of the spine, called the first gate (wei
lu) rising in the backbone to the second gate between the kidneys
(chia chi), and then to the back of the head, called the third gate
(yu ch’en), before reaching the brain (ni wuan). It then descends
down the face, chest and abdomen to return to where it rose and
so completes a full circuit.
By regulated breathing is meant deep breathing that reaches
the lower abdomen to arouse the inner fire and then bring pressure
on the generative force already held there, forcing both fire and
generative force to rise in the channel of control in the spine to the
head. This is followed by an out breathing which relaxes the lower
abdomen so that the fire and the generative force that have risen
to the head sink in the channel function in the front of the body to
form a full rotation in the microcosmic orbit.
These continued ascents and descents cleanse and purify the
generative force which is then held in the lower tan t’ien under the
navel so it can be transmuted into vitality.
The microcosmic orbit has four cardinal points: at the root of
the penis, where the generative force is gathered, at the top of the
head, and at two points between them in the spine and in the front
of the body where the generative force is cleansed and purified dur-
ing the microcosmic orbiting.
The different chapters of Master Chao Pi Ch’en’s book refer

to consecutive stages in the long process and I don’t think it is
appropriate to go beyond its first stage, the “fixing of the spirit
in its original cavity.”
I quote from the original text:
My masters Liao Jan and Liao K’ung once said: “When begin-
ning to cultivate (essential) nature and (eternal) life, it is necessary
first to develop nature.” Before sitting in meditation, it is important
to put an end to all rising thoughts and to loosen garments and belt
to relax the body and avoid interfering with the free circulation of
blood. After sitting the body should be (senseless) like a log and the
heart (mind) unstirred like cold ashes. The eyes should look down
and fix on the tip of the nose; they should not be shut completely
to avoid dullness and confusion; neither should they be wide open
to prevent spirit from wandering outside. They should be fixed on
the tip of the nose with one’s attention concentrated on the spot
between them; and in time the light of vitality will manifest. This is
the best way to get rid of all thoughts at the start when preparing
the elixir of immortality.76
When the heart (mind) is settled, one should restrain the faculty
of seeing, check that of hearing, touch the palate with the tip of the
tongue and regulate the breathing through the nostrils. If breathing
is not regulated one will be troubled by gasping or labored breaths.
When breathing is well controlled, one will forget all about the body
and heart (mind). Thus stripped of feelings and passions one will
look like a stupid man.
VII. SHAMANISM
Shamanism echoes today a form of spirituality that we may

regard older, more spontaneous and simpler than that of the
“Higher Religions.”
Historians seem to be still in disagreement as to whether
the classical civilizations (that must appeared between 6000 and
1000 bc) correspond to independent flowerings on the landscape
of human history or whether they represent a spreading from a
single original stem. Whichever the answer may be, it seems clear
that when we address ourselves to the history of the religious tra-
ditions that are at the core of the classical civilizations, these rep-
resent development from a common background of shamanistic
spirituality. In some cases the transition between shamanism and
the institution of the priest‑king is mythically commemorated, as
in Mexico with the appearance of Quetzalcoatl, or that of Zara-

thustra in Iran (conceived by Nygren as a revolutionary shaman),
or in old Egypt with the advent of Osiris.
Though shamanism in general constitutes a Dionysian spiri-
tuality emphasizing trance, possession and inner-guidance, it
may be said that shamanism is the least codified teaching and,
correspondingly, the most experiential and plastic—which makes
it particularly relevant to our time.
The first thing to be noted about shamanism, once it is in-
cluded among the meditation systems, is that it may be regarded
the least systematic of all and the most improvisational.
Though Mircea Eliade’s classic and integrative work on sha-
manism bears as a subtitle “the techniques of ecstasy,” it is clear
that shamanism emphasizes contagion, inspiration and other fac-
tors beyond technique.
One may even question the appropriateness of listing sha-
manism together with other meditation “systems”; yet I think
a statement on Shamanism cannot fail to be part of an account
of living meditative experience. Furthermore, I think that a new
shamanism is emerging in our midst, and we can even say that
the emerging Zeitgeist is somewhat shamanistic in quality, so that
we are becoming very interested in and appreciative of “classical”
shamanism. At the same time I think that shamanism—a spiritual-
ity which not only exists today but may be thought to have existed
before civilization—may have something of particular value to
teach those of us who suffer form the ills of civilization and the ills
of the codification of spirituality by civilization’s institutions.
It may be said that, even more than in Taoism and Tantrism,
Shamanism expresses the “letting‑go” aspect of meditation:
meditation as trance experience that arises in virtue of the indi-
vidual’s cultivation of self‑abandon, and involves the develop-
ment of a sort of navigational skill appropriate to abandon. Two
striking characteristics of shamanism—possession and visionary
experience—are, in particular, expressions of the perfection of
surrender: surrender of the body and the voice in the case of pos-
session; surrender of the mind in the case of visionary experience
and the art of following one’s visions. Related to this, in turn,
is the fact of the role of the shaman is not that of one standing
above or outside of humanity, but one of full participation in
human life.
Besides the Dionysian quality of shamanism, it is appropri-
ate to point out the kinship of shamanistic spirituality with an
appreciation of animal life and the perception of sacredness in
animal nature—an expression of a more general appreciation of
nature. Unlike later expressions of religion, in which an abyss has
separated the waters of heaven from those of the earth, we find
in shamanism a form of experience that in the higher religions is
scarcely present after Babylonian and Egyptian times—when the
gods were represented with human faces or vice‑versa.
I think that the vision of animal helpers constitute projections
of that “holy inner animal” in all of us that later religions have
tended to become alienated from, while the necessary struggle
with the passions has been confused with an enmity toward in-
stinct. The assimilation between the biological and the spiritual is
alive in Taoism and in Tantrism, but on the whole it may be said
that such insights have only been experientially accessible to an
esoteric minority, whereas the popular formulations of religion
and the generalized experience in this regard, contains something
of a Manichean identification between nature and the demonic.
We may say that living shamanism, emphasizing our rooted
ness in the earth and in the natural world constitutes a residue
“matriarchal” spirituality, opposite to the Olympian,77 “patriar-
chal” and Apollonian spirituality of the “High” Religions.
Most paradigmatic of shamanism is the situation of self-initi-
ation or spontaneous initiation at the beginning of the shaman’s
career—a situation related to either vocation, accident, or both.
Beyond vocation, accident, drugs and warrior’s courage
(with its implication of a willingness to enter the psychotic realms
and undergo a death in life) are still other prominent elements

in shamanism, and more explicit than in most religions. Last but
certainly not least, shamanism emphasizes above techniques the
factor of personal contagion—the transmission of spiritual expe-
rience through contact alone.
This much said, it may be added that it would be an exaggera-
tion to claim that shamanism is only a matter of ongoing creativity
and inspiration, and that it has generated no forms.
Given the multiplicity of shamanistic cultures, the forms are
at one level at least innumerable. If we seek for some universals,
however, we find—aside from the intention of surrendering to
higher inspiration—austerity, prayer, and ritual. Particularly typi-
cal is the use of drumming, singing and dancing as extensions of
prayer and the enactment of visions. Eliade has remarked on the
widespread notion of the shaman as a “master of fire,” but I think
that the real issue—that inner fire most commonly known as the
kundalini—is confused with symbolic or ritual figurations. To the
“kundalini realm” belong, too, the shaman’s animal identifica-
tions or “animal helpers” and the prominence of the skeleton in
shamanism, as mentioned in connection with the transformation
of the body (in chapter 3). Though it would be endless to describe
specific techniques in the numerous shamanic cultures, I quote
below the description of a rather unique method that approaches
spiritual awakening through the awareness of the skeleton.
Success in obtaining this experience requires his making a long

effort of physical privation and mental contemplation directed to
gaining the ability to see himself as a skeleton. The shamans whom
Rasmussen interrogated about this spiritual exercise gave rather
vague answers, which the famous explorer summarizes as follows:
“Though no shaman can explain to himself how and why, he can,
by the power his brains derive from the supernatural, as it were by
thought alone, divest his body of its flesh and blood, so that nothing
remains but his bones. And he must then name all parts of his body,
mentioning every single bone by name; and in so doing, he must not
use ordinary human speech, but only special and sacred shaman’s
language which he has learned from his instructor. By thus seeing
himself naked, altogether freed from the perishable and transient
flesh and blood, he consecrates himself, in the sacred tongue of the
shamans, to his great task, through that part of his body which will
longest withstand the action of the sun, wind and weather, after he
is dead.”78
Epilogue
About fifteen years have elapsed since I wrote the foregoing re-
view of meditation techniques across the main spiritual traditions,
the completion of which became the stimulus for the compilation
of the present book to which it seemed to provide an appropri-
ate opening. I wish that I had also written some observations on
how this topography of meditation supports the taxonomy I have
proposed and the generalizations that I have made concerning the
universality of “the way of silence,” the “way of surrender” and
the ways of mindfulness, detachment, compassion and devotion.
I wish, too, that I had devoted some time to making explicit com-
parisons between the Taoist circulation of the elixir, Kundalini
yoga and the practice of “inner heat” in the vajrayana. I say that
I wish that I had, for now, at 73, my priorities have shifted and I
cannot consider polishing past works.
As on seeing the galley proofs of the English edition of this
book that has been in circulation for years in Spain and Italy, I
consider once more the mosaic of my contributions and cannot
help noticing that my readership now will be very different from
the one I had in mind during their incubation and production;
for it would seem that a generation of seekers has gone into hi-
bernation and the shamanic Zeitgeist of the American “Human
Potential Movement” has been replaced by the marketing and
advertising spirit of our Brave New World.
238
Epilogue 239
I ask myself, then, what good my book can do today, and

though I cannot say that I know the answer for sure, I imagine
that its belatedness may be timely, and that, despite appearances,
it may be more meaningful at this time when religions are be-
coming a superstitious remnant of the past than when, in the
aftermath of the New Age, many may have felt on seeing it that
they already knew what I had to say.
So I hope, at least. And I tell myself that perhaps people have
lost faith in this or that spiritual tradition because religiosity has
been so contaminated by authoritarianism and dogmatism, yet the
spiritual essence of religions, and the underlying common ground
of spiritual schools, can only be of undying interest, for it speaks
to the common ground of humanity. And since my specific gift
and vocation seems to have been one of unraveling that common
ground, and my theme here, meditation, is the spiritual essence
of religion beyond rituals, social injunctions and doctrines, I feel
somewhat hopeful as I formulate the wish that the work that I
have undertaken of sharing what I have learned about meditation
and its marriage to psychotherapy be of help in the growth of
consciousness at a time when degraded consciousness is our col-
lective meta-problem and the evolution of consciousness (rather
than the increase of cyber-intelligence) our only hope.
NOTES
PREFACE
1
Dialog der Religionen, Chr.Kaiser Verlag, Munchen, 1992—chapter
“Wesen und Erscheinungsformen der Meditation” by Claudio Naranjo
(pp.2-58)
2
How to Be, by Claudio Naranjo, Tarcher Inc., Los Angeles, 1990.
3
On The Psychology of Meditation, by Claudio Naranjo & Robert Ornstein,
Penguin Books, 1976.
CHAPTER ONE
In The Path of the Bodhsattva Warrior, by Glen H. Mullin.
1
CHAPTER TWO
1
On the Psychology of Meditation, by Robert Ornstein and Claudio Naranjo,
ed. Pantheon Books, 1974.
2
Consciousness and Culture, edited by John R. Staude, Self-published,
1978.
3
Wesen und Erscheinungsformen der Meditation, in Dialog der Religionen,
2 Jg. Heft 1, p. 59.
4
Translation and commentary by John Myrdhin Reynolds, Station Hill Press,
New York, 1989.
5
See Ouspensky’s In Search of the Miraculous, a record of conversations
with Gurdjieff.
6
I have introduced the word “Enneatype” for “Ego-type according to the
enneagram,” and refer to the characters through an E followed by a
number from 1 to 9.
7
The sequence arising from the direction of interconnecting arrows (for
more details see Character and Neurosis/An Integrative View, by Naran-
jo, Gateways, Nevada City, 1994).
8
Just as I use E1-9 for the egotypes, I have introduced M1-9 for the basic
meditation forms or points in the meditation enneagram.
240
Notes 241
“Stilling the movement of the mind.”

9
“Surrender to the Lord.”

10
Chapter Three
1
Men & Snakes, by Ramona & Desmond Morris, McGraw-Hill Book Com-
pany, New York, San Francisco, 1965 (page 10).
2
Shiva y Dionisos/La Religion de la Naturaleza y del Eros, Alain Danielou,
ed. Kairos, Barcelona, Spain, 1987.
3
The Sibundoy.
4
Various recordings distributed by Big Sur tapes document these meetings
from the sixties, including talks by Dabrowsky, Silverman, Harner, La-
ing and others—including myself.
5
Lee Sannella, The Kundalini Experience: Psychosis or Transcendence? Lower
Lake, CA: Integral Publishing: 1987.
6
Now Spiritual Emergence Network.
7
Ayahuasca visions in “Ayahuasca Imagery and the Therapeutic Property
of the Harmala Alkaloids,” by Claudio Naranjo, in “Journal of Mental
Imagery,” 1987, 11(2), 131-136.
8
The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales, Pantheon Books, New York, 1972
(page 98).
9
Tales of the Dervishes, by Idries Shah, E. P. Dutton, New York, 1970 (pages
117-120).
10
By Farid ud-Din Attar The Conference of the Birds, Shambhala, 1993.
11
A modern English translation (by Freimantle and Trungpa) was published
by Shambhala in 1975.
12
Sri Aurobindo or The Adventure of Consciousness, by Satprem, Sri Aurob-
indo Ashram Trust, Pondicherry, India, 1968, (page 43).
13
Op. cit. pages 352, 353.
14
Nagas are mythological water snakes.
15
El Universo de Quetzalcoatl, by Laurette Sejourne, Fondo de Cultura
Economica, Mexico, Buenos Aires, 1962 (page 117).
CHAPTER FOUR
1
Psychotherapy East and West, by Alan Watts, Pantheon Books, New York,
1961.
2
The New Religions, by Jacob Needleman, Doubleday, Garden City, NY,
1970.
3
Spiritual Intimacy, by Z. M. Schachter-Shalomi, 1991.
4
Op. cit.
5
The End of Patriarchy and the Dawning of a Tri-une Society, by Claudio
Naranjo, Amber Lotus, California, 1994.
6
Alice Miller’s For Your Own Good.
7
I would like to emphasize as well the riches available in the more humble
domain of teaching tales.
8
Arching Backwards, by Janet Adler, Inner Traditions, Rochester, Vermont,
1995.
9
Here I draw to his attention that he has already spoken of a gray cloud in
one of the meditation sessions. When he reported his experience, he
said that he had started with a headache, and then he visualized a gray
man (or a gray cloud)—gray was the important part. And in getting in
touch with this, his headache disappeared.
CHAPTER SIX
1
By Claudio Naranjo, Gateways/IDHHB,Inc., Nevada City, CA. 1993.
2
Originally called by me the “HFN” Process, that suggests both the name
of its visible originator and of Dr.Fischer (to whom Hoffman attributed
a spiritual inspiration), this designation changed to “HN” in response
to Hoffman’s request.
3
“El ojo que ves no es
ojo porque tu lo veas;
es ojo porque te ve.” Proverbios y Cantares.
4
I and Thou, by Martin Buber. See book in print or library.
5
Op.cit.
6
Deliberate relevance to one another’s statements.
7
E5 corresponds to the schizoid personality, in which awkwardness and
difficulty in communication are prominent.
8
I use enneatype notation as a basis for identification for additional infor-
mation.
9
Name of the place in which the meeting was held.
10
E4 corresponds to the “self-defeating personality” in the DSM-IV.
11
Psychopathology and Politics, by Harold D. Lasswell, The University of
Chicago Press, 1986.
CHAPTER SEVEN
1
Dennis Dobson Ltd., London, 1950.
2
I have written about Totila Albert’s social thinking in The End of Patriarchy
and of his epic in Songs of Enlightenment, but I still have not published
on his substantial contribution to musical understanding.
CHAPTER EIGHT
1
Also the Talmud speaks of “turning the other cheek”: “Whosoever does
not persecute him, whosoever takes an offense in silence, he who does
good because of love, he who is cheerful under his suffering — they are
the friends of God.” (Daily Prayer Book with commentary introduction
and notes by the late Chief Rabbi Joseph H.Hertz, Bloch Publishing
Co., New York, page 156.)
2
From the introduction to the Russian version of the Philokalia, included in
Writings from the Philokalia, trans. Kadloubovski and Palmer, 1966.
Notes 243
3
Theophan the Recluse in The Art of Prayer, by Igumen Chariton of Valamo,
E.Kadloubovski and E.M.Palmer, ed. by Faber and Faber Limited,
London, 1966.
4
Op.cit.
5
Mysticism, by Evelyn Underhill, Dutton&Co., N.York, 1961.
6
In Underhill, op.cit.
7
What is Contemplation?, by Thomas Merton, Templegate Publishers,
Springfield, Illinois, 1981 (page 36).
8
Underhill, op.cit.
9
In Western Mysticism, by C.Butler, Harper Torch Books.
10
In Western Mysticism, op.cit.
11
12
13
In Mysticism, op.cit.
14
In Mysticism, op.cit.
15
Tracing the Origins of Jewish Monotheism and Greek Philosophy, Simo
Parpola, University of Helsinski, New Eastern Studies, 62 N’3 (1963).
16
Jason Aronson Inc., Northvale, New Jersey, London, 1990.
17
Gate to the Heart: An Evolving Process, by Zalman M. Schachter-Shalomi,
ALEPH: Alliance for Jewish Renewal, Philadelphia, 1993.
18
Fragments of a Future Scroll/Hassidism for the Aquarian Age, by Reb
Zalman Schachter, Leaves of Grass Press, Inc., Germantown, Penna,
1975.
19
Pages 138,139.
20
Pages142-144.
21
Let me parenthetically remark that we should take Israel to mean not only
the Jewish community, but, beyond the literal level the community of
seekers, the community of those who “struggle”—(according to the
literal meaning of the name “Israel” given by the angel to Jacob). See
Genesis 32:29.
22
Kaplan in Meditation and Kabbalah, Samuel Weiser, York Beach, Maine,
1982.
23
In the “Light of the Intellect,” in Kaplan’s Meditation and Kabbalah.
24
Fragments of a Future Scroll: Hassidism for the Aquarian Age, by Schachter-
Shalomi, Zalman M., Germantown, PA: Leaves of Grass Press, Inc.,
1975.
25
Kaplan, op.cit.
26
Mohammad, 569–632 ad
27
The Masters of Wisdom, by J.G. Bennett, Turnstone Books, London,
1977.
28
Jonathan Cape, London, 1968.
29
Kernel of the Kernel by Muhayaddin Ibn ’Arabi, Beshara Publications,
Great Britain, 1981.
30
In Desmond Martin’s description (“Documents of Contemporary Dervish
Communities”) of his visit to a Sarmouni monastery in the HinduKush,
he calls it the mystical no-koonja and the Naqsh, and speaks of it as a

diagram “that reaches the innermost secret of man.”
31
Just like the Tree of Life is divided in three plus seven, the enneagram is
said to embody the law of three and the law of seven. And, just like in
the Tree of Life Kether is echoed in Malchut, in the enneagram the ninth
point is said at the same time a beginning and an end. In both there is a
bilateral symmetry, a feminine and a masculine side, and in both there
are numerical and planetary correspondences.
32
In Thinkers of the East, by Idries Shah, Jonathan Cape, 30 Bedford Square,
London, 1971.
33
By Idries Shah, Doubleday & Co., Inc., N.York, 1964.
34
In the Paradise of the Sufis, by Javal Nurbaksh, 3rd. edition, New York:
Khaniqahi-Niratulla Publications, 1989.
35
Ibn ’Arabi says Murakaba is keeping oneself away from what is not God
“outwardly and inwardly” and concentrating one’s whole being upon
God.
36
Murakaba is relinquishing of control and will of the self followed by the
expectation of His grace and will, and turning away from whatever is
not Him.
37
See section on Buddhism.
38
Secret Talks with Mr. G, by E.J.Gold, Nevada City, IDHHB, 1978.
39
Implicit in this expression is a reference to the musical scale as symbol of
a natural degradation of impulses and the need to renew one’s inten-
tions.
40
This view has been elaborated upon by Joseph Campbell in his Masks of
God: Oriental Mythology, Viking, N.Y.
41
The remains of a pre-Aryan civilization at Mohenjo Daro and Harappa
suggest a cultural continuity with the original Sumerian civilization in
Mesopotamia. While the Dravidian culture in them was destroyed and
replaced by Aryan civilization, there is general agreement that its spirit
was not destroyed but assimilated into later Indian civilization, and
that made itself felt during a second wave of Indian spirituality that
followed after the time of the Rigveda: the time of the Upanishads, the
puranas, and the formulation of yoga, which was in turn the background
of Buddhism.
42
Particularly in Kashmiri Shaivism.
43
In Charles Johnston’s translation, The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, London,
John M.Watkins, 1949.
44
Layayoga, by Shyam Sundar Goswami, Routledge&Kogan Paul, London,
Boston and Henley, 1980.
45
Though in an outer sense mantra may be regarded as phonetic symbol-
ism, a distinction is made between mere syllables and utterances which,
consecrated by consciousness are passed on in an initiating context and
constitute a link to a spiritual teacher.
Notes 245
46
Tantra of the Great Liberation, by Arthur Avalon, Dover Publications,Inc.,
New York, 1972.
47
I.e. truth, wealth, pleasure and liberation.
48
Shakti and Shakta, by Sir John Woodroffe, Ganesh&Co. (Madras) Private
Ltd.
49
On reading this Bhikku Kusalananda, who may be considered the senior
Theravadin of the West (after the decease of his teacher Nyaponika
Thera) urges me to state that the Hinayana of Sanskrit teachings should
not be confused with the Theravada.
50
By G.I.Gurdjieff, Dutton &Co., N.York, 1964 (ch.38).
51
Though these three crystalized at different times—Mahayana about the
same time of Christ and the Tantric tradition around the seventh centu-
ry, all three share the claim of originating in the teachings of Buddha.
52
A quote from the Abhidharma Kosa: “Based on the fully and victorious
and perfect attainment of Shamata you may practice the Shamapati or
the four mindfulnesses.” (quoted from A Systematized Collection of
Chenian Booklets, vol.II, by C.M.Chen, D.C.T.Shen, N.J.USA), page
1006.
53
Tranquillity & Inisght by Amades Solé-Lerís
54
Suzuki, Shunrya, Weatherhill, N.York and Tokyo, 1980.
55
The Sutra of Wei-Neng, in The Diamond Sutra and the Sutra of Wei-Neng,
Boston, Shambhala, 1969.
56
By Deisetz Teitaro Suzuki, Charles E.Tuttle Co., Inc., 1994
57
Rohatsu sesshin: Ro refers to the month of December, and hatsu or hachi
means the eighth. 8th December is traditionally regarded as the date
of Buddha’s enlightenment. Everyone makes a special effort at this ses-
shin, which begins 1st December and ends early at dawn on the 8th, to
become enlightened. Usually they go without sleep the whole time long
in their earnest endeavor.
58
This would be the Rohatsu sesshin of 1896.
59
The Mahamudra/Eliminating the Darkness of Ignorance, The Ninth Kar-
mapa Wang-Ch’ug Dor-je, Library of Tibetan Works&Archives, 1978.
60
The Union of Mahamudra and Dzogchen, Khyentse Ozer, International
Journal of the Rigpa Fellowship, volume 1 of August 1990.
61
By Jeffrey Hopkins, Wisdom Publications, London.
62
Jeffrey Hopkins, op. cit.
63
The Gem Ornament, by Kalu Rinpoche, Snow Lion Publications, Ithaca,
New York, USA, 1987.
64
This was written in the early nineties.
65
Penguin Group, Wrights Lane, London.
66
The Tantric teachings of Dzogchen are separated into three groups—
Semde, Longde and Menagde or Upadesha.
67
In The Flight of the Garuda, compiled and translated by K.Dowman,
Wisdom Publications, 1994.
68
Time, Space and Knowledge, by Tarthang Tulku, Dharma Publishing,
Berkeley, 1977.
69
Oxford University Press, 1965.
70
The Precious Garland and the Song of the Four Mindfulnesses, by Nagarjuna
and Kaysang Gyatso, the Seventh Dalai Lama, Harper and Row, New
York, Evanston, San Fco, London.
71
Introduction to The Secret of the Golden Flower by Richard Wilhelm,
London, Routledge&Kegan Paul, 1962.
72
Among the Dervishes, O.M. Burke, Octagon Press, 1973.
73
Tao Te King, Alexander Ular’s version.
74
Routledge&Kegan Paul, London. Op.cit.
75
Taoist Yoga-Alchemy and Immortality, by Lu K’uan Yu, Samuel Weiser
Inc., New York.
76
Luk, op.cit.
77
The myth of Apollo tells us that he was established in the Oracle of Delphus
after slaying the serpent Tiphon—a personification of the pre-Olympian
Goddess.
78
Rasmussen, Intellectual Culture of the Iglutik Eskimos (page 114) quoted
in Shamanism/Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy, by Mircea Eliade, Prince
ton University Press, Bollingen series LXXVI, 1964 (page 62).
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INDEX
Note:
• Page numbers underlined, as in 26, indicate general discussions.
• Page numbers in small type, as in 45, indicate passing mentions.
• Page numbers in plain type following main headings that have subheadings
indicate minor discussions.
• Page numbers followed by (2) indicate two separate discussions.
• Page numbers followed by fig indicate illustrations.
• Page numbers followed by q indicate quotations.
• Page ranges “hyphenated” by “/”, as in 38/40, indicate discussions inter-
rupted by full‑page illustrations.
• Dashes followed by colons (“——:”) represent the main heading in cross-
references from one subheading to another.
A enneagram personality type cor-

Abhidharma, 209 respondences, 28–29
absorption. See contemplation polar aspects, 15–16, 16fig, 17fig,
absorptions (jhanas), 207 19, 28–29
Abu‑Hasanel‑Shadhili: “What am and psychotherapy, 75–81
I?”, 183q afflictions. See hindrances
Abulafia: meditation on the letters of Ain Sof: as nothingness, 181
the Divine Name, 175, ajapa, 202
176–177q, 177 Al Ghazali. See at Ghazali
action/contemplation polarity, 5 Albert, Totila, 149
action‑in‑non‑action, 230 on Bach and Beethoven, 147
not not doing, 25 on Brahms, 148–149
active unconsciousness, 18, 65–66 alphabet (Hebrew): meditation on
See also ego; neurosis the letters of the Divine Name,
Adler, Janet: authentic movement 175–177, 177–178q, 179fig
(dance), 83–84 alternating monologue form of
affective (engagement/disengage- awareness continuum, 134–135
ment) dimension of meditation, Amidah (in Jewish liturgy), 180
15–16, 16fig anapanasati (attention to breathing),
central (neutral) aspect, 25–26 208
252
Index 253
animals: authenticity of therapists, 135

images in kundalini/contemplative avatar worship, 197
experience, 60–61, 162–163q, aversion:
236 and desire, 65
shamanism and, 235, 236 greed, aversion, and ignorance,
See also birds; the dragon; serpent 65–66
images avidya. See ignorance
annihilation (fana), 19 awakening: of kundalini, 44–46,
anuyoga, 225 47–48, 56, 83–84
Apollonian way, 10, 20 See also enlightenment; realization
See also yogic complex of medita- awareness:
tion styles bone/skeletal awareness, 61–62
Aquinas, St. Thomas: on contempla- breathing attention/awareness,
tion, 161q 208, 212q
Arabian Nights: “The Fisherman and choiceless awareness, 210
the Genie”, 47 continuum of awareness in a medi-
archetypes: religious power, 70, 71 tative context, 113, 134–135
Arhat ideal: Bodhisattva ideal vs., healing power in psychotherapy,
203–204 69–70
arrow metaphor (Buddha), 76 intrinsic awareness, 22–24, 25,
The Art of Prayer (Kallistos), 158q 32, 223. See also light (of
arupaloka, 208 awareness)
ashtanga yoga. See raja yoga panoramic attention/awareness,
asking questions during meditative 107, 209
listening, 125 reptilian awareness, 60
Ati yoga. See Dzogchen See also consciousness; mindful-
Attar: The Conference of the Birds, ness
50 ayahuasca: and kundalini awaken-
attention: ing, 45
breathing attention/awareness, Ayin (nothingness), 181
208, 212q
concentration of. See concentra- B
tion (concentrative meditation) Baal Shem Tov:
panoramic attention/awareness, on Devekut, 168
107, 209 meditation practice, 178
See also awareness; consciousness; on prayer, 180, 180q
mindfulness Bach, Johann Sebastian, 146, 147,
Augustine, St.: on contemplation, 149
161q in Brahms, 149
Aurobindo, Sri, 194 recommended work, 146
on the descending force, 56q, 57 Baker, Augustine: eagle flight meta-
austerity, 4–5, 236 phor, 162–163q
and compassion, 80 baqa (permanence), 19
in life itself, 79 bardo pilgrimage, 50–51
in yoga, 196 Bardo Todol (Padmasambhava),
See also non‑attachment; self‑dis- 50–51
cipline Beethoven, Ludwig von, 147, 149
authentic movement (dance): and in Brahms, 149
kundalini awakening, 83–84 on his own music, 148q
Beethoven, Ludwig von (continued) Brahms, Johannes, 147

periods, 148 psychological balance, 148–149,
recommended work, 148 150
spiritual experience, 147–148, 149 recommended works, 150
Ben Sina, 175 synthesis of Bach and Beethoven,
Bernard, St.: three kisses image, 156 149–150
Besht. See Baal Shem Tov breaking a chain of associations,
bhakti yoga, 195 132–133
“bioenergy”, 53, 57, 58 breath control:
birds: in “circulation of the light”, 232q
The Conference of the Birds (At- pranayama, 196
tar), 50 breathing attention/awareness:
images of birds of prey in kund- anapanasati, 208
alini/contemplative experience, during zazen, 212q
60–61, 162–163q breathing out: as a reminder of
understanding of the language of, mindfulness, 99, 105
47 breathing yoga (pranayama), 196
biting vs. sucking response, 65 Brentano, Elizabeth: Beethoven
blank mind: voidness as not, 214q quotation, 148q
blessing: invocation of, 165 Buber, Martin: philosophy of rela-
See also contagion (of inspiration) tionship in I and Thou, 124,
bliss (blessedness), 26, 33, 33fig 157
experience of union, 48 buconasal region, 208
blood of being, 19 Buddha:
bodhichitta (intention): cultivation arrow and fire metaphors, 76
of, 210, 218, 227 “Kill the Buddha”, 211–212q
Bodhidharma: gaze of non-attach- and Padmasambhava, 205
ment, 81 Buddha nature, 37
Bodhisattva ideal, 203–204, 210 zazen as a perfect expression of,
Bodhisattva vow to strive for en- 211–212
lightenment for all beings, 204, Buddhism:
210, 218 bridge to America, 204
body: and Christianity, 203
diamond body, 50 compassion in, 203–204, 210
“energy flow”, 42–43, 53–54, disappearance from India, 204
57–59 Hinayana. See Theravada Bud-
gates, 230. See also chakras; fron- dhism
tal center Mahayana. See Mahayana Bud-
mindfulness of one’s body as dhism
divine, 227 meditation forms/practices. See
Serpent Goddess as, 40 Buddhist meditation forms/
in spiritual practice, 37 practices
subtle body, 53, 57 no‑self view (of the ultimate),
body Hebrew/Yiddish, 169–170q 23–24, 203
Boehme, Jakob, 160q sectarian perspectives on,
bone awareness, 61–62 203–204, 206
bone crackling sensations, 59 teaching strategy, 12
Brahman: teachings. See Buddhist teachings
“Hymn to Brahman”, 199 Theravada. See Theravada
sound as, 145 Buddhism
Index 255
Buddhism (continued) Bülow, Hans von, 147

three jewels, 11, 210, 217–218 Buxbaum, Yitzak, 166qs
three poisons, 65–66
Vajrayana (Tantric). See Vajrayana C
Buddhism; and also Tibetan caduceus emblem (Hermes), 41
Buddhism Caitanya, Lord, 193, 197
Buddhist meditation forms/practices, calming. See non‑doing (stopping/
11, 206–227 mind control); shamatha
anapanasati (breath attention), censorship as practiced in free asso-
208 ciation in a meditative context,
bodhichitta cultivation, 210, 218, 120–121
227 chakras, 54–55, 198
Deity yoga, 5, 219–220 entry points, 56
four mindfulnesses, 227 of inner‑fire practice, 231
freedom in, 12, 213 meditation on, 14–15, 198
guru yoga, 218, 224–225 opening/activation of, 47–48,
koans, 214–217 55–56, 199–200
Mahamudra practice, 221–222 physical reality, 57
Mahayana forms/practices, tumo practice and, 225–226q
210–217 Chan. See Zen
mandala offering, 218 change: digesting unfinished issues
metta, 203, 210 from the past, 76–77, 121–122,
nyundro practices, 217–218 126–129, 132–133
prostration practices, 217 Chao Pi Ch’en: The Secrets of Cul-
reflection, 217 tivating Essential Nature and
refuge practices, 11, 210, 217– Eternal Life, 231–232, 233q
218 Chaudhuri, Haridas, 194
shamatha (stopping/calming), 11, chi: penetration of the bones, 61
12fig, 13, 207–208, 213q, 221 “chicken soup is poison”, 79
simultaneous practices, 226–227 child and chair story, 20
spontaneity from, 12 childhood: spontaneous concentra-
Theravada forms/practices, 11, tion as lost in, 98
207–210 Chochmah sephira, 181
traditions, 206 choiceless awareness, 210
Vajrasattva meditation, 218 Chowang, Guru: on spaciousness,
Vajrayana (Tibetan) forms/prac- 224q
tices, 217–227 Christian meditation forms/prac-
vipassana (looking keenly), 11, tices, 154–163
12fig, 30, 208–210; shamatha communion (sacrament), 163
and, 207 contemplation, 159q, 160–161q,
Yidam visualization, 219–220q 161–163qs
zazen, 11, 211–214 contemplative prayer, 158–159
Buddhist Tantrism. See Vajrayana devotional prayer, 156–157
Buddhism; and also Tibetan invocation, 156
Buddhism life of prayer, 155q
Buddhist teachings: The Lord’s Prayer, 155–156
as the context of practice, prayer of the heart, 157–158
209–210, 214 Quiet (prayer of), 160–161
original teachings, 203, 207 recollection, 159–160, 161q;
Tibetan view of, 206(2) self‑acting, 160
Christian meditation forms/practices polar aspects, 12fig, 13, 14, 16fig,

(continued) 17–18, 17fig, 27–28
reflection, 154 and psychotherapy, 72–75
remembrance of God, 156 concentration (concentrative medita-
visualization, 154 tion), 10, 27
Christianity: and compassion, 29
and Buddhism, 203 and creative imagination, 31
esoteric influences on, 153 devotion and, 5
institutionalization, 154 dharana, 196, 197
Judaism and, 153 on the divine, 158, 159, 159–160,
Nestorian church, 228 186
and Sufism, 181–182 as recollection, 159–160
and Taoism, 228 spontaneous concentration as lost
Watts on, 154 in childhood, 98
See also Christian meditation See also non‑doing (stopping/mind
forms/practices control)
Ch’u Fang Chu, 229 concentration on the present: vs.
“circulation of the light”, 48, free association, 122, 132–133
229–230, 230–231, 232q The Conference of the Birds (Attar),
process stages, 229, 231 50
vs. tumo practice, 48, 225, 231 conscious suffering, 79
classicism: in music, 147 consciousness:
Clemente, A.: on Dzogchen, 223 commandments of, 166
cognitive (inner/outer) dimension of development of as cyclic, 80
meditation, 12fig, 13, 16fig, 18 lowered (ordinary) (active uncon-
central (neutral) aspect, 22–24 sciousness), 18, 65–66, 239. See
enneagram personality type cor- also ego; neurosis
respondences, 29 recovery of, 66–67
polar aspects, 12fig, 13, 14–15, supreme consciousness, 21–22
16fig, 17fig, 18, 29 topography. See dimensional
and psychotherapy, 69–72 theory of meditation
commandments of consciousness, See also awareness; mind; mind-
166 fulness
communion (sacrament), 163 “constructive conception” expres-
compassion: sion, 72
and austerity, 80 contagion (of inspiration), 68
in Buddhism, 203–204, 210 guru–disciple relationship, 194
and concentration, 29 interpersonal meditation as a
and non‑attachment, 28–29 source of, 101
and trance, 30 and kundalini awakening, 45
See also love through modeling, 68
complementarity of meditational in shamanism, 236
dimensions, 13–15, 19–20 contemplation, 7, 159
conative (stop/go) dimension of testimonials, 160–161q,
meditation, 12fig, 13(2), 16fig, 161–163qs
17–18 See also samadhi
central (neutral) aspect, 25 contemplation/action polarity, 5
enneagram personality type cor- contemplative prayer, 158–159
respondences, 27–28 exercise on, 159q
Index 257
continuous prayer, 158 bhakti yoga, 195

self‑acting recollection, 160 devotional prayer, 156–157
continuum of awareness in a medita- guru bhakti, 197, 201
tive context, 113, 134–135 guru yoga, 218, 224–225, 227
craving. See desire life of prayer, 155q
creative imagination, 71 and meditation, 5, 15
and concentration, 31 and psychotherapy, 77–78
non‑attachment and, 30–31 in Tibetan Buddhism, 219
prayer as, 156 See also God‑mindedness
surrender and, 43 dharana (concentration), 196, 197
See also God‑mindedness dharma: and enlightenment, 7
crisis: and spiritual strength, See also Buddhist teachings
215–216q, 216q Dharmakaya, 50
crown images, 173 Dhul Nun: Egyptian tomb treasure
story, 43
D dhyana. See meditation
Dalai Lama (7th): on the four mind- diamond body, 50
fulnesses, 227q dimensional theory of meditation,
Dalai Lama (13th): on practice, 7q 4, 9–36
Dalai Lama (14th): on Tantra, 205q dimensions of meditation:
dance: and kundalini awakening, affective. See affective (engage-
83–84 ment/disengagement) dimen-
Danielou, Alain, 40 sion of meditation
Dante: Divine Comedy, 18 central (neutral) aspects, 22–26;
dark (divine dark), 160, 161, 188 in the enneagram, 31, 32–33,
dark night of the soul, 50, 56 33fig, 34–35. See also bliss;
David‑Neel, Alexandra, 37–38 intrinsic awareness; openness
De Adhaerendo Deo, 160q (non‑interference/peace)
death: cognitive. See cognitive (inner/
journey after, 50–51 outer) dimension of meditation
to the past (ego‑death), 66, 67, 76 complementarity, 13–15, 19–20
valley of the shadow of death, 50 conative. See conative (stop/go)
dedication to enlightenment. See dimension of meditation
bodhichitta polar aspects, 12fig, 13–19, 16fig,
deficiency‑motivation: and neurosis, 17fig; affinities among, 20; in
64 the enneagram, 27–29. See also
Deity yoga, 5, 219–220 God‑mindedness; letting‑go;
Delphic Oracle, 40 love; mindfulness; non-attach-
deprivation. See emptiness ment; non‑doing
descent of kundalini, 49–51, 56–57 and psychotherapy, 69–81
desire (craving/over‑desiring), 64, 65 Dionysian way, 10, 20
libido vs. eros, 64–65 Hasidic movement, 164
despair states, 41 shamanism, 234–235
dark night of the soul, 50, 56 See also religious complex of
detachment. See non‑attachment meditation styles
Devekut, 166–168 discipline. See self‑discipline
devotional prayer, 156–157 dissolution of mind, 48
devotionalism (devotion), 5 the divine:
avatar worship, 197 attributes (Wazifas), 186
the divine (continued) liberation from, 18, 66–67, 73,

concentration on, 158, 159, 195–196. See also ——: tran-
159–160, 186 scendence of, below
identification with, 165, 174 love and, 19
love of, 77–78 meditation and, 3, 17–19
sense of, 71 mindfulness and, 18
See also God and mystery, 18
Divine Comedy (Dante), 18 non‑attachment and, 19
divine dark, 160, 161, 188 non‑doing and, 17
divine inspiration. See inspiration as a part presuming to control the
(inner guidance) whole, 18, 52, 64
Divine Name: re‑assimilation of, 204
meditation on the letters of, and the thirst for being, 19
175–177, 177–178q, 179fig transcendence of, 14, 66–67, 75.
as the sephirot, 177–178, 179fig See also ——: liberation from,
the dragon: above
ego as, 47 See also neurosis
Indra and Vitra, 16 ego‑death, 66, 67, 76
kundalini and, 61 ego‑suspension: yogic complex of
mythical encounters with, 47 meditation styles and, 20–21,
dry ways. See Apollonian way 21fig
Dzogchen (Ati yoga), 206, 222–225 Egyptian tomb treasure story, 43
and Mahamudra, 223 eight‑limbed yoga. See raja yoga
mind‑to‑mind transmission in, eightfold noble path, 210
224–225 “elevating the fire”, 231–232
practice of, 7, 22, 224 Eliade, Mircea: on shamanism, 234
Dzogchen: The Self‑Perfected State Elixir, Way of. See “circulation of
(Norbu), 223 the light”
emotions: perception of, 222q
E emptiness (nothingness/voidness), 23
eagle images in kundalini/contem- cultivation of, 221–222q, 227q
plative experience, 60–61, deprivation as, 160
162–163q divine dark, 160, 161, 188
Eckhart, Meister: on contemplation, Kabbalistic notion, 181
160–161 mindfulness of, 227
Eden: fall from, 52 as not vacuity/blank mind, 214q
education: usefulness of free associa- as something to offer others, 105
tion in, 141–142 supreme consciousness as, 21–22
effort: in spiritual practice, 46, 213 view of the ultimate as, 228–229;
See also non‑doing (stopping/mind no‑self view, 23–24, 203
control); work zazen and, 214
ego: See also openness (non-
as active unconsciousness, 18, interference/peace); space
65–66 empty sky metaphor, 14
death of, 66, 67, 76 Emptying the Depths of Hell (Guru
as dragon, 47 Chowang), 224q
God‑mindedness and, 18 “energy” (“bioenergy”), 53, 57, 58
as the human condition, 52, 63–64 as evolutionary, 44
letting‑go and, 17–18 flow. See “energy flow”
Index 259
“energy” (“bioenergy”) (continued) ethical practice (moral discipline),

See also sexual energy 74, 80
“energy flow”, 42–43, 53–54, evolutionary energy, 44
57–59 expressive way, 10fig
as tonus fluctuation, 57, 59
energy yoga, 48, 55, 205, 225 F
engagement/disengagement dimen- faith, 71
sion of meditation. See affective “... enter by naked faith ...”, 160
(engagement/disengagement) fall from Eden, 52
dimension of meditation fana (annihilation), 19
enlightenment: fear:
Bodhisattva vow to strive for en- and remembrance, 156, 166
lightenment for all beings, 204, and spiritual strength, 215–216q,
210, 218 216q
dedication to. See bodhichitta Feldenkrais, Moshe: on bone crack-
grasping for, 204 ling sensations, 59
and kundalini, 82–83 Ferenci, Sandor, 114
mindfulness of, 227 festivals: Jewish New Year (Rosh
and psychotherapy, 81–82 Hashana), 172–173
satori: of Naranjo, 45; of Suzuki Fikr (reflective meditation),
(D.T.), 216–217q 183–186
touchstone of, 7 fire. See inner‑fire practices
See also liberation; realization; “Fire” (Pascal), 162
transcendence; understanding; fire metaphor (Buddha), 76
wisdom (gnosis/prajna) Fischer, Roland, 14
enneagram, 26–35, 27fig, 164, 185 “The Fisherman and the Genie”
hexad point connections (inner (Arabian Nights), 47
flow), 29–31 flow: and stillness, 14
inner triangle point characteris- See also “energy flow”
tics, 32–33 forehead. See frontal center
inner triangle point connections, forgiveness of parents, 77
31, 33fig, 34–35 four immeasurables, 5
meditation styles (aspects/com- four mindfulnesses, 227
ponents/gestures) in, 26; core four orders of existence (Ibn ’Arabi),
characteristics, 32–33; core 184–185
connections, 31, 33fig, 34–35; four worlds of the Kabbalah, 180
dimensional connections, Fragments of a Future Scroll
29–31; dimensional polarities, (Schachter), 169–171q
27–29 Francis of Sales, St.: on contempla-
origin, 26 tion, 162q
personality types in, 27–33, 28fig free association (in psychoanalysis),
structure, 26–27, 31 114
enneatypes, 27–33, 28fig concentration on the present vs.,
entering into one’s self/the Light, 122, 132–133
160q elements, 115
equanimity. See openness (non-inter- origin, 73
ference/peace) primary process, 132–133
eros: libido vs., 64–65 free association in a meditative con-
See also sexual energy text, 113–142
asking questions during, 125 gates of the body, 230

breaking a chain of associations, See also chakras; frontal center
132–133 Gayatri mantra, 199
censorship as practiced in, gaze:
120–121 without looking, 119
elements, 115–116, 141 of non‑attachment, 81
including feelings, 121–122 panoramic looking, 105
interpersonal meditation in prepa- for sharpening vs. quieting the
ration for, 116–117, mind, 221q
119–120 The Gem Ornament (Kalu Rinpoche),
interventions in, 118, 125, 222q
128–129, 130–131, 134 generative force. See sexual energy
listening during. See meditative Gesar, King, 37
listening Gestalt therapy:
neutrality in, 115–116 concentration on the present vs.
origins, 114–115 free association, 122
patient–therapist pairing chains, interpersonal vipassana‑like mind-
118 fulness practice used in, 98–99
rationale, 121–122 organismic self‑regulation, 17–18,
resistances to, 114, 122–123 52, 73
SAT‑in‑Spain program results, and spontaneity, 68, 73
136–140 getting out of the way: working on
self‑knowledge through, 126–129, and letting‑go of, 46
136–140 Al Ghazali:
sharing insights/intuitions during, parable of seven valleys, 49
128–129, 130–131, 134 on the sick man, 79q
transference during, 130–135 gnana yoga, 195
transitioning to mutuality after, gnosis. See wisdom
135 gnosticism, Jewish. See Kabbalah
usefulness in education, 141–142 God:
free dissociation, 122 appeal to God’s mercy, 157–158
freedom: in Buddhist meditation fear of, 166
practice, 12, 213 love of, 156, 166
Freud, Sigmund: presence, 162q
and hypnosis, 73 remembrance of, 156, 165–166
on psychoanalysis, 75 as a transitional object, 77
Fromm, Erich: on the productive See also the divine
person, 75 God‑mindedness, 12fig, 13, 16fig,
frontal center (“purple hall”/“square 17fig
inch”), 54, 230 and ego, 18
music as, 72
G in psychotherapy, 70–71
Garab Dorje: on the nature of phe- in the religious complex of medi-
nomena, 223q tation styles, 20–21,
Garuda images in kundalini experi- 21fig
ences, 60, 61 sense of sacredness, 31
Gate to the Heart (Schachter), in tantric meditation practices,
166–168q 14–15, 31
Index 261
God-mindedness (continued) healing power:

See also creative imagination; of awareness, 69–70
devotionalism; and under the of snake images, 41
divine; God of surrender, 73
Gold, E. J.: on self‑inquiry, 190–193 healing process, 66–67
Gopi Krishna: kundalini experience, health orientation in Taoism, 229
44 hearing: mystical importance, 144
grasping for enlightenment: Bo- See also listening
dhisattva vow vs., 204 heart:
grave of the body, 37 prayer of the heart, 157–158
greed, aversion, and ignorance, settling. See stilling the mind
65–66 heart center, 56, 104, 196–197
Greek mythology: serpent images in, heat, psychic. See inner‑fire practices
40, 41 Hebrew:
Greek religion, 193 body Hebrew/Yiddish, 169–170q
Grimm’s Fairy Tales: “The White meditation on the letters of the
Snake”, 46–47q Divine Name, 175–177,
Grof, Stanislav, 41, 45 177–178q, 179fig
ground of the soul, 161 helping/healing relationship, 67, 68
group contagion: and kundalini See also contagion (of inspiration)
awakening, 45 Hermes: caduceus emblem, 41
guidance, inner. See inspiration Heschel, Professor, 170
guilt, 128 Hesychast tradition: prayer of the
Gurdjieff, G. I., 182, 205 heart, 157–158
awareness training, 189–190 Hinayana Buddhism. See Theravada
and the enneagram, 26, 27 Buddhism
gaze of non‑attachment, 81 hindrances (afflictions), 195
on “The Work”, 79 three poisons, 65–66
guru. See the teacher in Zen practice, 213
guru bhakti, 197, 201 Hindu meditation forms/practices,
Guru Rinpoche. See Padmasambhava 193–202
guru yoga, 218, 224–225, 227 avatar worship, 197
guru–disciple relationship, 194 opening the chakras, 47–48,
55–56, 199–200
H raja yoga, 13, 194–195, 195–197
Ha Cohen of Lublin, Rabbi Sadock, repetition of utterances (japa),
165–166qs 198–199, 201–202
hadith: pondering, 183 Transcendental Meditation (T.M.),
hamsa practice, 201–202 202
happiness: wishing for oneself and Hindu–European religions, 193q
others, 109–112 Hinduism:
Hasidism: development of, 193
meditation practices, 178/180‑181 religious geniuses, 194
movement, 164, 178 Tantrism. See Indian Tantrism
spirituality, 181 Vedanta. See Vedanta
See also Baal Shem Tov; Nachman yoga streams, 193–194, 195
of Bratzlav See also Hindu meditation forms/
Hassadi: on Murakaba, 188 practices
hitbodedut (Jewish meditation), 175 Indries Shah:

Hasidic emphasis on, “constructive conception” expres-
178/180‑181 sion, 72
and hitbonenut, 174–175 writings, 47, 67, 183
on the letters of the Divine Name, initiation of shamans, 235
175–177, 177–178q, 179fig Innana myth, 49–50
hitbonenut (Jewish study), 174 inner guidance. See inspiration
and hitbodedut, 174–175 inner/outer dimension of medita-
Hittite stone engraving (serpent and tion. See cognitive (inner/outer)
first man), 39fig, 40 dimension of meditation
Hoffman, Robert: Quadrinity Pro- inner‑fire practices, 231
cess (Fischer‑Hoffman Process), “elevating the fire”, 231–232
77, 117–118 See also “circulation of the light”;
Hopkins, J.: on Mahamudra prac- tumo yoga
tice, 221–222q insight. See enlightenment; realiza-
Hui Neng (Sixth Patriarch of Zen): tion; understanding; wisdom
on prajna, 213, 214q (gnosis/prajna)
on Zen practice (verse), 24, 213 inspiration (inner guidance), 41
human condition: ego as, 52, 63–64. power of sound and music,
See also neurosis 145–147, 174–175, 198
humanistic psychology: and free as- in shamanism, 41, 42–43
sociation, 114 See also contagion (of inspiration)
“Hymn to Brahman”, 199 instinctual wisdom, 60
hypnosis: healing power, 73 organismic wisdom, 52
intention (holy intention):
I bodhichitta, 210, 218, 227
I Am That (Muktananda), 23q kavannah, 166–168q
I and Thou (Buber): philosophy of interpersonal meditation, 95–112
relationship in, 124, 157 continuum of awareness in a
Ibn ’Arabi, 6q, 109 meditative context, 113,
theological poetry, 183–185 134–135
Ibn Pakuda, 166q in preparation for free association
Ichazo, Oscar, 27 in a meditative context,
on kundalini, 40q 116–117, 119–120
identification with the divine, 165, See also free association in a medi-
174 tative context
Ignatius, St.: spiritual exercises, 154 interventions in free association in a
ignorance (avidya), 64, 195 meditative context, 118, 125,
greed, aversion, and ignorance, 128–129, 130–131, 134
65–66 intimacy: vulnerability (being like
India: conversion to Islam and disap- idiots) and, 104–105
pearance of Buddhism, 204 intrinsic awareness (awareness-of-
Indian music (classical): and divine awareness), 22–24, 25, 32
inspiration, 145–146 choiceless awareness, 210
Indian Tantrism, 193–194, 205, 231 rigpa, 24, 223
devotional aspect, 198–199, 219 See also light (of awareness)
origins, 198 invocation, 156, 165
practices, 198–201 involuntary movements: kundalini
Indra: and Vitra, 16 and, 45
Index 263
Ishtar myth, 49–50 meditation on the letters of the

Islam: Divine Name, 175–177,
conversion of India to, 204 177–178q, 179fig
esoteric. See Sufism nothingness notion, 181
meaning of word, 189 sephirot, 174, 181; the Divine
Islamic meditation forms/practices. Name as, 177–178, 179fig
See Sufi meditation forms/ Sufism and, 164
practices symbolic construction, 181
Tree of Life symbol, 164, 174
J Kadloubovsky, E., 6q, 154–155q
japa. See repetition of utterances Kallistos: The Art of Prayer, 158q
Japanese schools of Tantric Bud- Kalu Rinpoche: on Mahamudra
dhism, 205 practice, 221q, 222q
“Jesus Christ, son of God, have Kamiya, Joe, 9
mercy upon me”, 158 Kaplan, Aryeh, 175q, 180q
Jesus myth, 50 karma:
Jewish meditation forms/practices, meditation and, 76
164–181 of neurosis, 66
blessing prayer and ritual, 165 psychotherapy and, 76–77, 128
hitbonenut and hitbodedut, Karmapa (XVIth): on Muktananda,
174–181 201
learning Torah, 165 kavannah (intention), 166–168q
liturgy, 168–174, 180 Kether sephira, 181
New Year festival (Rosh Hashana), “Kill the Buddha”, 211–212q
172–173 kirtan, 197
remembrance (of God), 165–166. knowledge. See realization;
See also Devekut; Shiviti self‑knowledge; transcendental
Shabbat practices, 169–172 knowledge; understanding;
tantric‑like practices, 177 wisdom (gnosis/prajna)
tantric‑like symbols, 173, 174 koan practice, 214–217
tfillin (phylacteries), 172 Koestler, Arthur, 52q
jhanas (absorptions), 207 Koran: pondering statements from,
journey after death, 50–51 183
joy: in Zen practice, 213q Krishna, Gopi: kundalini experi-
Judaism: ence, 44
and Christianity, 153 Krishna worship, 193, 197
gnosticism. See Kabbalah Krishnamurti, 210
Hasidism. See Hasidism kundalini, 52–53
Mesopotamian source, 163–164 animal images in experiences of,
See also Jewish meditation forms/ 60–61, 162–163q, 236
practices ascent/arousal/awakening stage,
Jung, Carl: and archetypes, 70, 71 44–46, 47–48, 56, 83–84
descent/integration stage, 49–51,
K 56–57
Kabbalah, 164 enlightenment and, 82–83
emphasis on meditation and study, as evolutionary energy, 44
174–175 Ichazo on, 40q
four worlds, 180 illuminative stage, 46–48, 50
kundalini (continued) in the religious complex of medi-

and involuntary movements, 45 tation styles, 20–21, 21fig
Naranjo’s experiences of, 45, in shamanism, 234–235
59–62 trance and possession as from,
phenomenonal aspects, 40–43, 42–43
44–45, 46–48, 83. See also See also spontaneity
chakras; prana; subtle energies Lewin, Kurt: child and chair story,
and possession, 42–43, 45 20
power. See kundalini shakti liberation (from the ego), 18, 66–67,
process (stages), 43–51, 56–57 73, 195–196
and psychotherapy, 82–84; case See also transcendence (of the ego)
study, 84–91 libido: vs. eros, 64–65
and psychotic experience, 41–42 See also sexual energy
theory of (prana theory), 57–59 life of prayer, 155q
kundalini shakti (serpent power), 38, light (of awareness), 32, 33fig
51–53 “circulation of the light”, 48,
and understanding, 46–47 229–230, 230–231, 232q
kundalini yoga, 14–15 entering into the Light, 160q
See also intrinsic awareness
L Light of the Intellect (Abulafia), 175,
Laing, R. D., 41 176–177q, 177
language of the birds: understanding Light of Wisdom: Aquinas on,
of, 47 161–162q
Lao Tse (Lao‑tzu): Tao Te King, 228, listening:
228q, 229q, 230q to sound, 144–145
Lasswell, Harold D.: on the useful- “Who looks/listens/senses?”,
ness of free association in 107–108
education, 141–142 See also meditative listening
Lataif (subtle energies), 187 liturgy of Judaism, 168–174, 180
laya yoga, 196 looking: “Who looks/listens/sens-
learning: Torah, 165 es?”, 107–108
See also reflection/study (as medi- See also vipassana (looking
tation) keenly)
letters of the Divine Name: medita- The Lord’s Prayer, 155–156
tion on, 175–177, lotus feet image, 55
177–178q, 179fig love, 16, 16fig, 17fig, 19
letting‑go (surrender), 10, 11, 12fig, as bliss, 26, 33, 33fig
16fig, 17fig categories, 77
and ego, 17–18 cultivation/activation of, 5, 15,
of getting out of the way, 46 19. See also devotionalism
healing power, 73 (devotion)
and Murakaba, 188–189 degrees, 156
not not doing, 25 of the divine (God), 77–78, 156,
polar opposite. See non‑doing 166
(stopping/mind control) and ego, 19
in prayer, 156 meditation and, 8, 29
refuge practices, 11, 210, 217– metta, 203, 210
218 music and, 78
Index 265
love (continued) median nerve (uma), 226

and non‑attachment, 15–16, 28–29 meditation (dhyana), 196, 197, 239
of others, 77 absorption. See contemplation
and prayer, 156 aspects. See meditation styles
in psychotherapy, 75–76 as a background for verbal com-
in the religious complex of medi- munication, 114–115, 139.
tation styles, 20–21, 21fig See also free association in a
self‑love, 33, 77, 78 meditative context
transference as intimate trust and on the chakras, 14–15, 198
love, 131–132 Christian meditation, 154
and work, 75 components. See meditation styles
See also compassion concentrative meditation. See
loving relationships: and spiritual concentration
practice/psychotherapy, 68 contemplation. See contemplation
Luk, Charles: The Secrets of in the context of teachings, 214
Cultivating Essential Nature devotionalism and, 5, 15
and Eternal Life (translation), dimensions. See dimensions of
231–233, 232q meditation
lunar paths. See Dionysian way and ego, 3, 17–19
essence (meditation proper),
M 21–22. See also contemplation
Machado, Antonio, 124q forms. See meditation forms/
“the magic of the other”, 68 practices; and specific religious
See also contagion (of inspiration) forms/practices
Mahamudra, 221–222 goal, 19, 63, 66, 114
and Dzogchen, 223 interpersonal. See interpersonal
Mahanirvana Tantra, 198, 199q meditation
Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, 194, 202 Jewish practice. See hitbodedut
Maharshi, Ramana. See Ramana and karma, 76
Maharshi and kundalini awakening, 45–46
Mahasiddha ideal, 204 on the letters of the Divine Name,
Mahayana Buddhism, 203 175–177, 177–178q, 179fig
Bodhisattva ideal, 203–204, 210 and love, 8, 29
prayer in, 203 music as, 78, 143–150
territory today, 204–205 Nachman’s way, 180q
Mahayana Buddhist meditation neutrality in, 76
forms/practices, 210–217 as path and goal, 114
bodhichitta cultivation, 210 possession in, 43
koans, 214–217 as prayer. See prayer
refuge practice, 11, 210 process, 14–15, 16–17, 17fig,
zazen, 11, 211–214 67–68. See also kundalini;
mandala offering, 218 subtle energies
mantras: and psychotherapy: interface be-
Gayatri, 199 tween, 67–69, 81–82. See also
repetition of. See repetition of under meditation styles
utterances (japa) and realization, 6–7
in T.M. practice, 202 reflection. See reflection/study (as
“Masters of Wisdom”, 182 meditation)
meditation (dhyana) (continued) in the enneagram, 26; core

and right action (virtue), 4–5, 29 characteristics, 32–33; core
and right view, 7 connections, 31, 33fig, 34–35;
and spiritual practice, 3–8, 15 dimensional connections,
study. See reflection/study (as 29–31; dimensional polarities,
meditation) 27–29
styles. See meditation styles and psychotherapy, 69–81
Sufi meditation, 188–189 religious complex, 20; and tran-
sustaining in everyday life: in scendental knowledge,
interpersonal situations (See 20–21, 21fig. See also God-
interpersonal meditation); in mindedness; letting‑go; love
silence, 97 three‑dimensional sixfold model,
terminological issues, 9–10 15–26, 16fig
as training to meditate, 114 tri‑polar model, 10–12, 10fig
and trance, 6, 43 two‑dimensional fourfold model,
and understanding, 8 12–15, 12fig
and virtue, 4–5, 29 yogic complex, 20; and ego-sus-
and wisdom, 6–7, 7–8, 174, 213, pension, 20–21, 21fig. See also
214, 215 mindfulness; non-attachment;
See also prayer non‑doing
meditation forms/practices, 153–237 See also God‑mindedness;
Buddhism, 206–227 letting‑go; love; mindfulness;
Christianity, 154–163 non‑attachment; non‑doing;
Hinduism, 193–202 and also meditation forms/prac-
Islam (Sufism), 182–193 tices of world religions
Judaism, 164–181 meditation‑in‑relation. See interper-
shamanism, 236–237 sonal meditation
tantric. See tantric meditation meditative field: meditative context
practices as, 116
Taoism, 229–233 meditative listening, 116
See also specific religious forms/ asking questions during, 125
practices in the context of mantra repeti-
Meditation on Emptiness (Hopkins), tion, 114–115
221–222q focusing on being present (“I”),
meditation styles (aspects/compo- 120–121
nents/gestures), 9–11 focusing on both “I” and “You”,
dimensional centers, 22–26; in the 125–126, 128
enneagram, 31, 32–33, 33fig, focusing on “I”, “You”, and “In-
34–35. See also bliss; intrinsic finity”, 129–130
awareness; openness (non‑inter- focusing on the other’s presence
ference/peace) (“You”), 123–124
dimensional polarities, 12fig, Sama, 189
13–19, 16fig, 17fig; affinities sharing insights/intuitions during,
among, 20; in the enneagram, 128–129, 130–131, 134
27–29. See also God- mercy: appeal to God’s mercy, 157–
minded-ness; letting‑go; love; 158
mindfulness; non‑attachment; Merton, Thomas: on contemplation,
non-doing 161q
Index 267
Mesmer, Franz Anton: and hypnosis, Moreno, Jacob: and spontaneity, 73

73 mortification. See austerity
Mesopotamian source of Judaism, Mount Meru summit experience, 48
163–164 movement:
metta, 203, 210 in contemplative experience,
microcosmic orbit (in Taoist medita- 162–163
tion), 232q involuntary movements, 45
Miller, Alice: on forgiveness of and kundalini awakening, 83–84
parents, 77 Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus: recom-
mind: mended work, 146
blank mind, 214q Mu: koan practice, 215q, 216q
dissolution of, 48 mudras:
gaze for sharpening vs. quieting, spontaneous mudras, 45
221q zazen mudra, 211
stilling (settling the heart), Mugier, Henri: Shiviti design, 177,
195–196, 233q 178, 179fig
See also consciousness Muktananda, Swami, 194, 201
mind‑control. See non‑doing (stop- I Am That, 23q
ping/mind control) Murakaba (Sufi meditation),
mind‑to‑mind transmission: in 188–189
Dzogchen, 224–225 Murphy, Michael, 194
mindfulness, 12fig, 13, 16fig, 17fig “Mushkil Gusha” (teaching tale), 72
of one’s body as divine, 227 music:
breathing out as a reminder of, classicism, 147
99, 105 as God‑mindedness, 72
and ego, 18 Indian music, 145–146
of emptiness, 227 kirtan, 197
of enlightenment, 227 and love, 78
four mindfulnesses, 227 as meditation and therapy, 78,
interpersonal practice of, 99–103 143–150
and non‑attachment, 30 power of inspiration, 145–147,
spontaneous concentration as lost 174–175
in childhood, 98 and relaxation, 144
Sufi attention training, 189–193 romanticism, 147
in tantric meditation practice, 14 secular music, 146–147
of the teacher, 227 Western music, 146–150
and transcendence, 14 music dictation, 149
in the yogic complex of medita- mystery (of existence): ego and, 18
tion styles, 20–21, 21fig
See also vipassana (looking N
keenly) Nachman of Bratzlav, Rabbi, 178/180
mitzvot, 166, 171q way of meditation/prayer, 180q
Moghuls: in India, 204 nadis, 54, 57
Mohenjodaro tablet serpent motif, uma (median nerve), 226
38 naked awareness. See intrinsic
Moore, Thomas, 127 awareness
moral discipline (ethical practice), name‑gazing: Shiviti as, 177–178,
74, 80 179fig
Namkai Norbu. See Norbu, Namkai non‑doing (stopping/mind control),

Naranjo, Claudio, 255–256 10, 12fig, 13, 16fig, 17fig
kundalini experiences, 45, 59–62 and ego, 17
and Rajneesh, 96 interpersonal practice of, 103–106
nature: polar opposite. See letting‑go (sur-
of phenomena, 223q render)
shamanism and, 235 Shabbat spirit, 171–172
nectar/soma (in tumo practice), 48, shamatha as, 11, 12fig, 13,
226 207–208, 213q, 221; and vipas-
Needleman, Jacob: on religion and sana, 207
psychotherapy, 63q in the yogic complex of medita-
negative way, 10, 10fig tion styles, 20–21, 21fig
Nestorian church, 228 in Zen practice, 213
neti neti, 10 See also concentration
neurosis, 63–64 non‑interference. See openness
core, 65–66 non‑meditation, 21–22
deficiency‑motivation and, 64 Norbu, Namkai:
healing process, 66–67 on Dzogchen, 224q
as karmic, 66 Dzogchen: The Self‑Perfected
See also ego State, 223
neutrality: on the nature of phenomena, 223q
in free association in a meditative not not doing (wu‑wu‑wei), 25
context, 115–116 action‑in‑non‑action, 230
in meditation, 76 “Not Two”, 168
in psychoanalysis, 115 nothingness. See emptiness
New Age spirit: Taoism and, 228 Nurbaksh, Javal: on Murakaba, 188q
New Year festival (Jewish) (Rosh Nyingmapa tradition: on Buddhist
Hashana), 172–173 teachings, 206
Nietzsche, Friedrich, 10, 74 nyundro practices, 217–218
Nirmanakaya, 50
nirvana, 19 O
nirvikalpa samadhi, 6, 188, 197 object meditation. See God-mind-
no‑self view (of the ultimate): edness
vs. self view, 23–24, 203 om: utterance of, 145
voidness view, 228–229 openness (non‑interference/peace),
noble eightfold path, 210 25, 32, 33fig
noble silence of meditative listening, as not not doing, 25
116 to pain, 79–80
non‑attachment, 16, 16fig, 17fig See also spontaneity
and compassion, 28–29 oral fixation, 65
and creative imagination, 30–31 organismic self‑regulation, 17–18,
and ego, 19 52, 73
and love, 15–16, 28–29 organismic wisdom, 52
and mindfulness, 30 The Ornament of Mahayana sutras, 7q
Perls’ gaze, 81 Ornstein, Robert, 10
in psychotherapy, 78, 80–81 Osiris myth, 50
in the yogic complex of medita- others:
tion styles, 20–21, 21fig love of, 77
Index 269
others (continued) on openness to pain, 79

“the magic of the other”, 68 on organismic self‑regulation,
nothingness as something to offer, 17–18
105 permanence (baqa), 19
wishing happiness for oneself and, personality types in the enneagram,
109–112 27–33, 28fig
See also relationship phenomena, nature of, 223q
over-desiring. See desire Philokalia, 6
phylacteries (tfillin), 172
P Platform Sutra, 213, 214q
Padmasambhava, 205 “the play of air in the arteries”,
Self‑Liberation through Seeing 37–38q
with Naked Awareness, 24q Plotinus, 21q
The Tibetan Book of the Dead, Plumed Serpent myth, 62
50–51 poetic theology, 183–185, 189
pain: openness to, 79–80 pondering. See reflection/study (as
Palmer, G., 6q, 154–155q meditation)
panoramic attention/awareness, 107, possession, 42–43, 45
209 power:
panoramic looking, 105 of archetypes, 70, 71
parable of seven valleys (Al Ghazali), serpent power. See kundalini
49 shakti
paradise: snake and tree in, 38/40 of sound and music, 144–147,
“Paradise and the Peri” (Schumann), 174–175, 198
127–128 See also healing power
parents: forgiveness of, 77 prajna. See wisdom
Pascal, Blaise: “Fire”, 162 Prajnaparamita view, 222q
the past: prana, 54
death to (ego‑death), 66, 67, 76 channels (nadis), 54, 57
digesting unfinished issues from, downward progression, 51, 56–57
76–77, 121–122, 126–129, “flow” (“energy flow”), 42–43,
132–133 53–54, 57–59
Patanjali, 13, 195(2), 195q theory of (kundalini theory), 57–
patient–therapist pairing chains, 118 59
patients: seduction of therapists by, upward channeling of, 47–48, 56
133–134 See also kundalini
peace. See openness (non-interfer- pranayama (breathing yoga), 196
ence/peace) prayer, 5–6
peer therapy, 116, 140 aspects, 156–158
patient–therapist pairing chains, 118 the Baal Shem Tov on, 180, 180q
Perfect Man: presences within (Ibn Christian prayer, 154–163
’Arabi), 184–185 contemplative prayer, 158–159
Perls, Fritz: continuous prayer, 158; self-
on concentration on the present acting recollection, 160
vs. free association, 122 as creative imagination, 156
gaze of non‑attachment, 80–81 devotional prayer, 156–157
interpersonal mindfulness practice invocation, 156, 165
used by, 98–99 Jewish liturgy, 168–174, 180
prayer (continued) and karma, 76–77, 128

Judaic elements, 165 kundalini and, 82–84; case study,
life of prayer, 155q 84–91
The Lord’s Prayer, 155–156 love in, 75–76
love and, 156 loving relationships and, 68
in Mahayana Buddhism, 203 and meditation: interface be-
Nachman’s way, 180q tween, 67–69, 81–82
of Quiet, 160–161 meditation styles and, 69–81
recollection, 159–160, 161q, 175 as more than it purports to be, 69
relationship in, 157 music as, 78, 143–150
repentance in, 157–158 non‑attachment in, 78, 80–81
as ritual, 157–158 peer therapy, 116, 140
in shamanism, 236 religious view and, 70, 71
as a “single thing”, 154 spiritual experience and, 70
surrender in, 156 and spiritual practice, 63
thoughts as prayers, 180q spontaneity as cultivated/liberated
prayer of the heart, 157–158 through, 68, 73, 228
presence of God: Ullathorne on, 162q stop/go dimension of meditation
presences within the Perfect Man and, 72–75
(Ibn ’Arabi), 184–185 as a talking cure, 72
primary process (in free association), transcendence and, 66–67, 75
132–133 psychotic experience: kundalini and,
prostration practices (Vajrayana), 217 41–42
psalms (in Jewish liturgy), 180 “Pure Being”, 161
Pseudo‑Dionysius: on contempla- “purple hall”. See frontal center
tion, 161q
psychedelics: and kundalini awaken- Q
ing, 45 Quadrinity Process (Fischer-Hoff-
psychic heat. See inner‑fire practices man Process), 77, 117–118
psychoanalysis, 114 Quetzalcoatl myth, 62, 234
criterion for the success of, 114 Quiet (prayer of), 160–161
Freud on, 75 Underhill on, 161q
neutrality in, 115 See also silence
See also free association
psychotherapists. See therapists R
psychotherapy: ragas, 146
awareness (mindfulness) in, 69–70 raja yoga, 13, 194–195, 195–197
devotion and, 77–78 Rajneesh, Baghwan, 194
engagement/disengagement and Naranjo, 96
dimension of meditation and, Ramakrishna, 194
75–81 Ramana Maharshi, 194
enlightenment and, 81–82 “Who am I?”, 22–23
goal, 63, 66, 73 reality (the ultimate), 21–22
God‑mindedness and creative no‑self view vs. self view, 23–24,
imagination in, 70–71 203
the helping/healing relationship, voidness view, 228–229
67, 68 realization (insight), 6, 11, 25, 81
inner/outer dimension of medita- meditation and, 6–7
tion and, 69–72 paths to, 19
Index 271
realization (insight) (continued) renunciation, 4, 29

See also enlightenment; liberation; repentance, 127
transcendence; understanding; in prayer, 157–158
wisdom (gnosis/prajna) repetition of utterances (japa),
re‑assimilation of the ego, 204 198–199
recollection, 159–160, 175 listening in the context of,
self‑acting, 160 114–115
Underhill on, 161q om, 145
reflection/study (as meditation), 6–7 soham and hamsa, 201–202
Christian focus on, 154 Zikr, 186–187
Fikr, 183–186 reptilian awareness, 60
hitbonenut, 174–175 reptilian brain, 51–52
learning Torah, 165 resistances to free association, 114,
Vajrayana practices, 217 122–123
refuge practices, 11, 210, 217–218 right action. See virtue
Reich, Wilhelm: right view:
chakra discoveries, 55 meditation and, 7
and spontaneity, 73 religious view and psychotherapy,
reincarnation, 51 70, 71
relationship: rigpa (intrinsic awareness), 24, 223
Buber’s philosophy of relationship, Rigveda: religion, 193
157 Rinpoche, Guru. See Padmasambhava
guru–disciple relationship, 194 Rinzai school of Zen, 215
helping/healing relationship, ritual:
67, 68. See also contagion (of blessing rituals, 165
inspiration) Jewish New Year ceremony,
loving relationships and spiritual 172–174
practice/psychotherapy, 68 prayer as, 157–158
in prayer, 157 remembrance aids, 166
relaxation: sacrifice ritual transformation, 193
music and, 144 Shabbat practices, 169–172
practices, 99, 103–104 in shamanism, 236
religion: tfillin (phylacteries), 172
and psychotherapy, 63q Roman religion, 193
shamanism and, 233–234 romanticism: in music, 147
religious complex of meditation Rosenzweig, Franz, 170
styles, 20 Rosh Hashana (Jewish New Year
and transcendental knowledge, festival), 172–173
20–21, 21fig rupaloka, 207–208
See also God‑mindedness;
letting‑go; love S
religious view: and psychotherapy, Sabbath. See Shabbat
70, 71 sacraments: communion, 163
remembrance of God, 156, sacredness, sense of, 31
165–166 See also God‑mindedness
See also Devekut; Shiviti sacrifice ritual transformation (in
reminders: Vedic times), 193
of mindfulness, 99, 105 sacrificial readings (in Jewish lit-
remembrance aids, 166 urgy), 180
Sama (meditative listening), 189 self‑consciousness, 192

samadhi, 196, 197, 216 self‑discipline:
savikalpa and nirvikalpa, 6, 188, 197 ethical practice (moral discipline),
See also contemplation 74, 80
Sambhogakaya, 50 life opportunities for austerity, 79
sambodhi, 19 as missing and needed in psycho-
Sannela, 41 therapy, 73–74, 74–75
SAT Institute, 229, 256 openness to pain, 79–80
SAT‑in‑Spain program, 96, 117–118 organismic self‑regulation, 17–18,
experiential results, 136–140 52, 73
Satipatthana sutta, 208 self‑disgust, 128
satori: self‑inquiry:
of Naranjo, 45 Gold (E.J.) on, 190–193
of Suzuki (D.T.), 216–217q interpersonal practice of, 107–109
See also enlightenment “What am I?” (Abu-Hasanel-
Satprem: on the descending force, Shadhili), 183q
56–57q “Who am I?” (Ramana Maharshi),
savikalpa samadhi, 6, 188, 197 22–23
Sayadaw, Mahasi: vipassana ap- self‑knowledge: through free asso-
proach, 209 ciation in a meditative context,
Schachter, Zalman, 67 126–129, 136–140
on Devekut and Shiviti, 166–168q See also realization; wisdom
on the Shabbat, 169–171q (gnosis/prajna)
on Shiviti as name‑gazing, Self‑Liberation through Seeing
177–178q with Naked Awareness
Scherchen, Hermann: on Beethoven, (Padmasambhava), 24q
147q self‑love, 33, 77, 78
Schumann, Robert: “Paradise and sephirot, 174, 181
the Peri”, 127–128 the Divine Name as, 177–178,
The Secret of the Golden Flower, 179fig
229–230, 230q Serpent Goddess, 40
secret thoughts: experience of, 102 serpent images (snake images):
The Secrets of Cultivating Essential in Greek mythology, 40, 41
Nature and Eternal Life (Chao), healing power, 41
231–232, 233q Hittite stone engraving, 39fig, 40
secular music: and divine inspira- inspiration (inner guidance), 41
tion, 146–147 in kundalini experiences, 60, 61
seduction of therapists by patients, Mohenjodaro motif, 38
133–134 Plumed Serpent myth, 62
self: entering into one’s self, 160q serpent and the first man, 39fig, 40
See also the Self; self view serpent and tree in paradise, 38/40
the Self: Muktananda on, 23q visions of S. American Indians, 41
self view (of the ultimate): no‑self serpent power. See kundalini shakti
view vs., 23–24, 203 settling the heart. See stilling the
self‑acting recollection, 160 mind
continuous prayer, 158 sexual energy (generative force):
self‑censorship as practiced in free libido vs. eros, 64–65
association in a meditative as used in tantric meditation prac-
context, 120–121 tices, 47–48, 200, 231, 232q
Index 273
Shabbat, 169–172 snake visions of South American

activities, 170–171q Indians, 41
language, 169–170q “So what?” (Perls), 81
spirit of non‑doing, 171–172 soham practice, 201–202
shamanism: solar paths. See Apollonian way
and animals (nature), 235, 236 Solé‑Lerís, Amadeo: on shamatha,
characteristics, 234–236 207–208
contagion in, 236 soma/nectar (in tumo practice), 48,
inspiration (inner guidance) in, 226
41, 42–43 Soto school of Zen, 215
meditation forms/practices, soul, 37
236–237 dark night of the soul, 50, 56
new shamanism, 234 ground, 161
and religion, 233–234 sound:
skeleton symbol in, 62, 236–237 as Brahman, 145
Taoism as, 229 listening to, 144–145
trance and possession in, 42–43 power of inspiration, 144,
shamans, 235(2) 174–175, 198
shamatha (stopping/calming), 11, utterance repetition. See repeti-
12fig, 13, 207–208, 221 tion of utterances
and vipassana, 207 South American Indians: snake
in Zen practice, 213q visions, 41
See also non‑doing (stopping/mind space:
control) Dzogchen emphasis on, 224
shame, 128 Tarthang Tulku on, 224
Shankara, 193 and time, 212q
sharing insights/intuitions during spiritual experience:
meditative listening, 128–129, of Beethoven, 147–148, 149
130–131, 134 chakra openings, 47–48, 55–56
Shingon school, 205 contemplative experience testimo-
Shiviti, 166–168 nials, 161–163q
as name‑gazing, 177–178, of Gopi Krishna, 44
179fig of Naranjo, 45, 59–62
Sh’ma (in Jewish liturgy), 180 and psychotherapy, 70
sick man: Al Ghazali on, 79q of Suzuki (D.T.), 216–217q
Sigfried myth, 47 union, 48
silence: spiritual materialism: Bodhisattva
keeping silence, 161 vow vs., 204
of meditative listening, 116 spiritual practice:
sustaining meditation in everyday the body in, 37
life in, 97 effort in, 46, 213
See also Quiet; stillness loving relationships and, 68
Simkin, Jim, 45 meditation and, 3–8, 15
Sinai summit experience, 48 and psychotherapy, 63
Sixth Patriarch. See Hui Neng See also self‑discipline; and spe-
skeletal awareness, 61–62 cific religious meditation forms/
skeleton symbol: in shamanism, 62, practices
236–237 spiritual strength: crisis and,
snake images. See serpent images 215–216q, 216q
spontaneity: Fikr (reflective meditation),

as cultivated/liberated through 183–186
psychotherapy, 68, 73, 228 Lataif (subtle energies), 187
from meditation practice, 12, 230 Murakaba (meditation proper),
See also openness (non-interfer- 188–189
ence/peace) Sama (meditative listening), 189
spontaneous concentration: as lost Wazifas (divine attributes), 186
in childhood, 98 Zikr (utterance repetition), 186–
spontaneous mudras, 45 187
“square inch”. See frontal center Sufism:
standing prayer (in Jewish liturgy), and Christianity, 181–182
180 and the Kabbalah, 164
Staude, John R., 15 northern branch vs. southern
stilling the mind (settling the heart), branch, 182
195–196, 233q spiritual descent from Moham-
stillness: med, 181
in contemplative experience, spiritual traditions, 182–183
162–163 teaching tales, 185–186; “Mushkil
and flow, 14 Gusha”, 72
See also Quiet; silence See also Indries Shah
stop/go dimension of meditation. See Suio Roshi, 215–216q
conative (stop/go) dimension of Sullivan, N. W. N.: on Beethoven,
meditation 148
stopping. See non‑doing (stopping/ sunyata. See emptiness
mind control); shamatha supreme consciousness: as nothing-
stories. See teaching tales (of the Sufis) ness, 21–22
streamings (Reichian), 57, 59 surrender. See letting‑go
strength: crisis and spiritual strength, sushumna (median nerve/uma), 226
215–216q, 216q Suzuki, D. T.:
study. See reflection/study (as medi- on koan practice, 215–216qs
tation) satori, 216–217q
subtle body, 53, 57 Suzuki Roshi, Shunryu: on zazen,
subtle energies (in the subtle body), 211–212q
3, 53–62 Symposium of Man transcript,
“energy flow”, 42–43, 53–54, 96–112
57–59
Lataif, 187 T
soma/nectar, 48, 226 talking cure: psychotherapy as, 72
See also chakras; kundalini; prana tanha (craving). See desire
sucking vs. biting response, 65 Tantric Buddhism. See Vajrayana
suffering: Buddhism; and also Tibetan
conscious suffering, 79 Buddhism
factors contributing to, 64–66 tantric meditation practices, 14–15
means for decreasing, 74 devotional practice, 219
as neurosis, 63–64 God‑mindedness in, 14–15, 31
truth and, 79 Jewish practices like, 177
Sufi meditation forms/practices, mantra repetition, 198–199
182–193 opening the chakras, 47–48,
attention training, 189–193 55–56, 199–200
Index 275
tantric meditation practices mindfulness of, 227

(continued) See also teacher–student interac-
sexual energy (generative force) as tions; and specific teachers
used in, 47–48, 200, 231, 232q teacher–student interactions, 67
soham and hamsa, 201–202 guru bhakti, 197, 201
visualization in, 14–15, 31, 51, guru yoga, 218, 224–225, 227
219–220 guru–disciple relationship, 194
See also Taoist meditation form/ See also contagion (of inspiration)
practice; Tibetan Buddhist teaching tales (of the Sufis), 185–186
meditation forms/practices “Mushkil Gusha”, 72
Tantrism (tantric esotericism), teachings. See Buddhist teachings;
193–194 teaching tales (of the Sufis)
Buddhist. See Vajrayana Bud- Tendai school, 205
dhism; and also Tibetan Bud- tfillin (phylacteries), 172
dhism theological poetry, 183–185, 189
degrees of love, 156 therapist–patient pairing chains,
Indian. See Indian Tantrism 118
in Jewish symbols, 173, 174 therapists (psychotherapists):
origins, 198 authenticity, 135
as a quick path, 205q main training, 130
rationale for, 47 personal development during
thrust of the way, 199–200 training, 136
See also chakras; kundalini; prana; seduction of by patients, 133–134
subtle energies therapy. See psychotherapy
Tao, 4, 11, 17 Theravada Buddhism (Hinayana
Tao Te King (Lao Tse/Lao‑tzu), 228, Buddhism), 203, 207
228q, 229q, 230q Arhat ideal, 203–204
Taoism: territory today, 204
as appropriate in the Western Theravada Buddhist meditation
world, 228 forms/practices, 207–210
Christianity and, 228 anapanasati (breath attention),
health orientation, 229 208
origins, 227–228 metta, 203, 210
as shamanism, 229 refuge practice, 11
sociological reality, 228 shamatha (stopping/calming), 11,
Taoist meditation form/practice, 12fig, 13, 207–208, 213q, 221
229–233 vipassana (looking keenly), 11,
“circulation of the light”, 48, 12fig, 30, 208–210
229–230, 230–231, 232q thirst for being, 19
“elevating the fire”, 231–232 Thomas Aquinas, St.: on contempla-
process stages, 229, 231 tion, 161–162q
settling the heart, 233q thoughts: as prayers, 180q
spontaneity from, 230 See also free association
tapas. See austerity three jewels (in Buddhism): refuge
Tarthang Tulku: Time, Space, and practices, 11, 210, 217–218
Knowledge, 224 three kisses image, 156
Te, 4, 17 three poisons (in Buddhism), 65–66
the teacher: three‑dimensional sixfold model of
Hindu religious geniuses, 194 meditation styles, 15–26, 16fig
throne images, 173 tranquility. See openness (non-inter-

The Tibetan Book of the Dead ference/peace)
(Padmasambhava), 50–51 Tranquility and Insight (Solé‑Lerís),
Tibetan Buddhism (Vajrayana), 207–208
205–206 transcendence (of the ego):
on Buddhist teachings, 206(2) and mindfulness, 14
chakra lore, 55 and psychotherapy, 66–67, 75
devotional aspect, 219 See also liberation (from the ego)
Mahasiddha ideal, 204 transcendental knowledge: religious
religious view, 71 complex of meditation styles
zalung expression, 37–38q and, 20–21, 21fig
See also Vajrayana Buddhism Transcendental Meditation (T.M.), 202
Tibetan Buddhist meditation forms/ transference:
practices, 217–227 during free association in a medi-
bodhichitta cultivation, 218, 227 tative context, 130–135
Deity yoga, 5, 219–220 as intimate trust and love, 131–132
four mindfulnesses, 227 transparency: experience of, 103
guru yoga, 218 Tree of Life symbol, 164, 174
Mahamudra practice, 221–222 See also sephirot
mandala offering, 218 triads of higher consciousness, 22
multiple practices, 226–227 tri‑polar model of meditation styles,
nyundro practices, 217–218 10–12, 10fig
prostration practices, 217 trust: transference as intimate trust
reflection, 217 and love, 131–132
refuge practices, 11, 217–218 truth: and suffering, 79
rigpa (intrinsic awareness), 24, Tsong Kapa: on Yidam visualization,
223 219–220q
tumo yoga, 48, 59, 225–226 tumo yoga, 48, 59, 225–226
Vajrasattva meditation, 218 vs. “circulation of the light”, 48,
vipassana in, 207 225, 231
time: and space, 212q Turkestan: as a meeting point of
Time, Space, and Knowledge religious traditions, 182
(Tarthang Tulku), 224 tutelary deity:
T.M. (Transcendental Meditation), self‑identification with, 220, 220q
202 visualization of, 219–220q
tonus fluctuation: “energy flow” as, tutelary pride, 220q
57, 59 two‑dimensional fourfold model of
topography of consciousness. See meditation styles, 12–15, 12fig
dimensional theory of
meditation U
Torah: learning Torah, 165 U Ba Khin, 208
The Training of the Zen Buddhist vipassana approach, 30, 209
Monk (Suzuki, D.T.), 215–217q Ullathorne, Bishop: on the presence
trance, 12fig of God, 162q
and compassion, 30 ultimate. See reality
meditation and, 6, 43 uma (median nerve), 226
in shamanism, 42–43 unconsciousness, active, 18, 65–66
and vipassana, 30 See also ego; neurosis
Index 277
Underhill, Evelyn: vipassana (looking keenly), 11,

on Contemplation, 159q 12fig, 208–210
on contemplative prayer, in the context of the teachings
158–159; exercise, 159q (attitude), 209–210
on Recollection, Quiet, and Con- forms (approaches to), 30, 209
templation, 161q interpersonal mindfulness practice
understanding (insight): used in Gestalt therapy like,
of the language of the birds, 47 98–99
as a means for decreasing suffer- in Mahamudra practice, 221
ing, 74 shamatha and, 207
meditation and, 8 and trance, 30
serpent power and, 46–47 See also mindfulness
See also enlightenment; realiza- virtue (right action):
tion; wisdom (gnosis/prajna) denigration of, 74
unfinished issues from the past: ethical practice (moral discipline),
digesting, 76–77, 121–122, 74, 80
126–129, 132–133 meditation and, 4–5, 29
union: experience of, 48 visualization:
utterance repetition. See repetition in Ignatius’ spiritual exercises, 154
of utterances in Rosh Hashana, 172–173
in tantric meditation practices,
V 14–15, 31, 51, 219–220
vacuity (blank mind): voidness as of Vajrakîla, 51
not, 214q Yidam visualization, 219–220q
Vajraki-la: visualization of, 51 in yoga practice, 196
Vajrasattva meditation, 218 Vitra: Indra and, 16
Vajrayana Buddhism (Tantric Bud- voidness: as not vacuity/blank mind,
dhism), 194, 205 214q
Japanese schools, 205 See also emptiness
as a quick path (Dalai Lama), vulnerability (being like idiots): and
205q intimacy, 104–105
See also Tibetan Buddhism;
Tibetan Buddhist meditation W
forms/practices Watts, Alan, 194
valley images: on Christianity, 154
in The Conference of the Birds, 50 on psychotherapy East and West, 63q
parable of seven valleys, 49 way of forms, 10fig
of the shadow of death, 50 Way of the Elixir. See “circulation of
Vedanta: the light”
formulation of, 164, 193(2) Way of the Sufi (Indries Shah), 183
self view (of the ultimate), 23–24, Wazifas (divine attributes), 186
203 Wei Lang: voidness warnings, 214q
verbal communication: meditation Werfel, Franz, 154q
as a background for, 114–115, Western music, 146–150
139. See also free association in wet ways. See Dionysian way
a meditative context “What am I?”: of Abu-Hasanel-
via negativa, 10, 10fig Shadhili, 183q
via purgativa, 56 See also self‑inquiry
“The White Snake” (Grimm’s Fairy origins, 193

Tales), 46–47q pranayama (breathing yoga), 196
“Who am I?”: of Ramana Maharshi, of psychic heat. See tumo yoga
22–23 raja yoga, 13, 194–195, 195–197
See also self‑inquiry samadhi. See samadhi
“Who looks/listens/senses?”, streams, 193–194, 195
107–108 tumo. See tumo yoga
See also self‑inquiry visualization experience, 196
Wilhelm, Richard: on Christianity yogic complex of meditation styles,
and Taoism, 228 20
wisdom (gnosis/prajna) (insight), and ego‑suspension, 20–21, 21fig
216q See also mindfulness; non-attach-
Chochmah sephira, 181 ment; non‑doing
Hui Neng on, 213, 214q yoitze, 167–168q
instinctual wisdom, 60 “You‑ness”: discovering and feeling,
Light of Wisdom (Aquinas), 124, 157
161–162q
meditation and, 6–7, 7–8, 174, Z
213, 214, 215 zalung, 225
organismic wisdom, 52 expression of, 37–38q
zazen and, 213 Zarathustra myth, 234
See also enlightenment; realiza- zazen, 11, 211–214
tion; understanding breathing during, 212
Wittgenstein, L., 22q freedom in, 213
work: posture, 211–212
Gurdjieff on “The Work”, 79 and prajna, 213
love and, 75 time and space during, 212q
See also effort and voidness, 214
wu‑wu‑wei. See not not doing zazen mudra, 211
Zen, 11
X coming to America, 204
Xolotl, 62, 62 schools, 215
See also Zen practice
Y Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind (Suzuki
Yidam visualization, 219–220q Roshi), 211–212q
yoga: Zen practice:
anuyoga, 225 Hui Neng (Sixth Patriarch) on
Ati yoga. See Dzogchen (verse), 24, 213
Deity yoga, 5, 219–220 joy in, 213q
dharana, 196, 197 koans, 214–217
dhyana, 196, 197 non‑doing in, 213
energy yoga, 48, 55, 205, 225 See also zazen
guru yoga, 218, 224–225, 227 Zikr (utterance repetition), 186–187
kundalini yoga, 14–15 Zimmer, Heinrich: on Hindu–Euro-
laya yoga, 196 pean religions, 193q
meaning of the word, 195
Claudio Naranjo, M.D.
Claudio Naranjo is an elder statesman of the U.S. and global
Human Potential Movement and the spiritual renaissance of the
late 20th century. He studied medicine, music, and philosophy
in Chile, where he also was a resident at the University of Chile
Psychiatric Clinic under Matte-Blanco. He taught psychology of
art at the Catholic University and social psychiatry at the School
of Journalism, University of Chile, and served as Director of the
Center for Studies in Medical Anthropology.
After coming to live in the United States, Dr. Naranjo was
among the staff of the early stage of Esalen Institute, where he
became one of the three successors to Fritz Perls. Later his life’s
pilgrimage brought him in contact with various spiritual masters
including Swami Muktananda, Idries Shah, Oscar Ichazo, Suley
man Dede, H. H. the XVIth Karmapa, and, most decisively,
Tarthang Tulku Rinpoche. Also, he was at one time Research As-
sociate at the Institute for Personality Assessment and Research
on the U.C. Berkeley Campus and associate of Raymond Cattell
at the Institute of Personality and Ability Testing. He has taught
comparative religion at the California Institute of Asian Studies,
humanistic psychology at the University of California in Santa
Cruz, meditation at Nyingma Institute in Berkeley, California,
279
and he was the founder of SAT Institute, an integrative psycho-

spiritual school, now headquartered in Spain.
Dr. Naranjo is the honorary president of two Gestalt Insti-
tutes, Fellow of the Institute of Cultural Research in London, and
member of the U.S. Club of Rome. He is considered one of the
pioneers of the Human Potential Movement, and his introduc-
tion of “Fourth Way” ideas to psychotherapy is an instance of his
work as an integrator at the interface between psychotherapy and
the spiritual traditions. At present he is primarily dedicated to an
integrative and transpersonal education of psychotherapists in
various European and South American countries. His approach
to educational reform and innovation is based his development
over decades of transformative training and educational technol-
ogy for professionals all around the globe. A Festschrift volume is
in preparation honoring Dr. Naranjo’s 70th birthday.
Claudio Naranjo’s published works include The One Quest
(Viking Press, 1972), The Psychology of Meditation (Penguin,
1972), The Healing Journey (Pantheon Books, 1974), La Vieja y
Novísima Gestalt: Actitud y Práctica (Editorial Cuatro Vientos,
1990), Ennea-type Structures (Gateways Books, 1991, 2004),
Gestalt Therapy: The Attitude and Practice of an Atheoretical Ex-
perientialism (Gateways Books, 1993, and Crown House, U.K.,
2000), Gestalt After Fritz (published by Era Naciente, 1993, as
Gestalt sin Fronteras), The End of Patriarchy and the Dawning of
a Tri-une Society (Dharma Enterprises, 1994, and Kairós, 1993,
as La Agonía del Patriarcado), Character & Neurosis: An Integra-
tive View (Gateways Books, 1994), Enneatypes in Psychotherapy
(Hohm Press, 1994), Transformation Through Insight: Enneatypes
in Life, Literature and Clinical Practice (HOHM Press, 1997), El
Enneagrama de la Sociedad (Temas de Hoy, 1995, Ediciones La
Llave, 2000), The Divine Child and the Hero (Gateways Books,
1999), The Enneagram of Society: Healing the Soul to Heal the
World (Gateways Books, 2004), Cambiar La Educación Para
Cambiar el Mundo (Ediciones La Llave, 2004).
The Way of Silence and the Talking Cure conveys an integra-
tive attitude that serves as an antidote to excessively sectarian
tendencies and draws attention to the fundamental issues that
underlie well known and specific forms of meditation and psy-
chotherapy. It will be of interest to seekers, helpful to people-
helpers and an inspiration to those in social situations ranging
from self-help groups to educational initiatives.
Part I presents a comprehensive panorama of the classi-
cal forms of meditation along with a theoretical and inter-
disciplinary account of the domain.
Part II considers the common ground between meditation
and therapy—from a theoretical understanding of the medita-
tion/ therapy interface to the formulation of a solitary retreat
methodology.

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the way of silence

and the talking cure

“Dr. Claudio Naranjo, a consciousness pioneer, has written

“Numerous figures—from C. G. Jung, D. T. Suzuki and

“[Naranjo’s] contribution to the scientific understanding

Claudio Naranjo, M.D., a major disciple of Gestalt psycho-

Blue Dolphin Publishing

Published by Blue Dolphin Publishing, Inc.

ISBN: 978-1-57733-140-7 paperback

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Printed in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

FOREWORD: Transforming Mind

PREFACE by Bhikkhu Kusalanda xv

INTRODUCTION: On Meditation and Psychotherapy xxi

PART I: Theoretical PRopositions ON

1. By Way of Definition: The Realm of Meditation 3

2. Dimensions and Essence of Meditation 9

3. Body Awareness and “Subtle Energies”

4. The Interface Between Meditation

PART II: New Applications of Meditation

6. Self-Knowledge Through Free Association

7. Music as Meditation and Therapy 143

Part Iii 151

8. Forms of Meditation 153

The human mind has a natural affinity for knowledge. Through

deeper healing that could satisfy spiritual yearnings, ease feelings

sense of self and adorns it with distinctive attributes and patterns.

of self-healing that relaxes mind’s focus on thoughts and allows

­ editating, mind is following instructions, mind is hoping to

of our lives. With these resources, we can take full advantage of

denominational labeling of methods as belonging to various reli-

social context. When you read, think or speak about meditation,

(bhavana). Without going into linguistic or doctrinal explanations, I

Not to do any evil,

Let us leave it at that, dear reader. Regarding meditation and

of the meditation process components, and after having contem-

they thought in that moment desirable. Well, it is easy to admit

Mirko Fryba, alias Bhikkhu Kusalananda

At the beginning of the sixties Northrop pointed to the meeting of

seekers began turning to the East for an expert guidance that

Just as Chapter 2 purports to tackle meditation from a trans-

Meditation when this volume was re-issued in the eighties as How

Meditation in the Context of Spiritual Practice:

Though it is customary to begin with a definition of the subject at

When I presented my dimensional theory of meditation con-

Meditation and Virtue—virtue or right action is generally re-

Austerity—designated as tapas in Sanskrit literature and as morti-

austerity inasmuch as they involve the discomfort of prolonged

Meditation and Prayer—This polarity involves not only that of

practice of surrender to internal guidance that is implicit in the

Meditation and Trance—Unlike other differentiations enumer-

Meditation and Realization—In many traditions there is a rec-

meditation without knowledge is nothing, and it is dharma rather

In the beginning rely upon study.

He goes on to comment that “studying many teachings and then

Meditation and Contemplation—Mostly in connection with this

Since it is hard to draw clear boundaries between what is

devotion and gnosis. Differentiating too sharply between medi-

DIMENSIONS AND ESSENCE

This chapter undertakes an inquiry into the psychological pro-

them as near or distant points in a single domain; it was clear that

The Way of Forms: The Expressive Way:

editating, mind is following instructions, mind is hoping to