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Meditating Selflessly: Practical Neural Zen by James H. Austin
This is not the usual kind of self-help book. Indeed, its major premiseheeds a Zen master's advice to be less self-centered. Yes, it is "one more bookof words about Zen," as the author concedes, yet this book explains meditativepractices from the perspective of a "neural Zen." The latest findings inbrain research inform its suggestions. In Meditating Selflessly, James Austin--Zenpractitioner, neurologist, and author of three acclaimed books on Zen andneuroscience--guides readers toward that open awareness already awaiting them on thecushion and in the natural world. Austin offers concrete advice--often in asimplified question-and-answer format--about different ways to meditate. Heclarifies both the concentrative and receptive styles of meditation. Havingemphasized that top-down and bottom-up forms of attention are complementary, he thenexplains how long-term meditators can become increasingly selfless when theycultivate both styles of attention in a balanced manner. This, Austin explains, isbecause our networks of attention are normally engaged in an inverse, reciprocal, seesaw relationship with the different regions that represent our autobiographicalself. Drawing widely from the exciting new field of contemplative neuroscience, Austin helps resolve an ancient paradox: why both insight wisdom and selflessnessarise simultaneously during enlightened states of consciousness.
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First published October 7, 2011
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August 23, 2015
I’ve flirted with the idea of taking up meditation for a few years now, and thought this book would be a good introduction given my interest in neuroscience. James H. Austin’s Meditating Selflessly: Practical Neural Zen is a sincere but mediocre explication of Zen meditative practice as interpreted by modern brain science. Austin’s treatment is highly disorganized, surprisingly repetitive for such a short text, and not always as careful with terms as I’d expect a neuroscientist to be. Still, there are some very worthwhile sentiments expressed here, a few of which I’m sure will stick with me.
One reaction to Austin’s approach that I didn’t anticipate was my eventual realization that, even though I appreciate the effort to legitimize claims about meditation using neuroscientific evidence, I don’t actually care very much about the neuro-details. As a non-specialist with a limited ability to understand the nuanced interactions between specific brain regions and circuits, I found many of Austin’s explanations rather abstruse and disconnected from his general observations about meditation. That’s not to say the author fails to connect the dots between empirical evidence and certain phenomenological aspects of meditation, but just to acknowledge that his method was only partially effective for a reader with my particular background and interests.
Though I had a lot of little criticisms along the way, my only major problem with Austin’s portrait of meditation is his irresponsible use of the terms “objective” and “direct experience.” Throughout the text, Austin repeatedly claims that selfless meditation techniques can lead to moments when “every Self-centered obstruction vanishes from view” and “one’s brain can realize the stark, cool clarity of objective vision. During such an awakened state of consciousness enlightenment simply means seeing things as they really are” (159, emphasis his). This is nonsense, especially coming from a scientist. It seems clear that humans are capable of having experiences that are not shot through with our own selfish desires and self-referential thinking, and also that such experiences are desirable in some circumstances. I also have no objection to the claim that meditation is a great way to improve our chances of having such experiences. But the leap of equating the disappearance of “Self-centered obstructions” with “objective vision” goes too far. Austin is describing how meditation can help the mind open the way for natural forms of processing that don’t necessitate mediation by circuits that generate our sense of self. Fair enough. But to claim that success in this project constitutes an ability to see “things as they really are” is preposterous. Loss of self-centeredness is not the same as objectivity. It’s just teaching oneself a new cognitive style, not emancipating thought from its corporeal, subjective bonds. The subject does not escape its basic sensory apparatus, nor does he or she gain the ability to “see objectively,” which pretty much any neuroscientist will admit is impossible. Austin neglects his obligation to take up this problem directly, and also to clarify the sense in which he so freely uses the term “objective” to describe supposedly selfless observational experiences.
This is especially curious considering Austin’s preoccupation with the interesting distinction between egocentric (self-centered) and allocentric (other-centered) processing. Austin’s research indicates that the brain’s “dorsal egocentric, top-down networks” function differently from our “ventral allocentric, bottom-up pathways” (24, emphasis his). Our egocentric thinking styles take place in ”higher” brain regions responsible for (among other things) generating our sense of personal identity, whereas allocentric thought arises from “lower” brain regions that developed earlier in our evolution.
Austin’s view, which seems both accurate and significant, is that we spend too much time allowing and even actively training our egocentric forms of processing to quell our potential for allocentric thought. The result is a brain overly concerned with its own selfish needs and desires, one that imbues objects and people with value only insofar as that process leads to the acquisition of self-oriented goals. It’s the difference between constructing perceptual models that emphasize how objects and people relate to you versus how they relate to one another. Austin advocates for a more balanced relationship between these two cognitive styles. He admits that allocentric thinking is hard to achieve and usually fleeting, but attests to its importance in helping people become more compassionate, calm, and effective when responding to adverse conditions. There is plenty of evidence (both scientific and anecdotal) to back up this view, and I think it points to what is probably the single most important finding about the usefulness of meditative practice. It’s a shame that Austin feels the need to equivocate allocentric thinking with objectivity, because this overreach at least partially compromises an otherwise meaningful observation about how meditation affects the mind.
Meditating Selflessly also provides a healthy outlook about exactly how difficult it can be to change our internalized habits of action and thought. For Austin, this is primarily a matter of how we focus our attention, which he characterizes as “our essential, vanguard mental function. Indeed, attention’s sharp point serves as the foremost tip of consciousness. Attention is the point that impales stimuli and anchors them” (13, emphasis his). As a person embedded in a culture that tries to splinter my attention at every turn, I am quite sympathetic to this view. I’ve no doubt that the active cultivation of attentiveness to the present moment would improve my life, mostly by mitigating my tendencies to indulge in obsessive future planning and the execution of mindless habits (e.g. checking my phone every two minutes). Austin explains that learning to adapt one’s attention through a combined method of deep concentration and “letting go” of illusions that we can completely control our thoughts is a great way to increase the availability of our attention to the whatever is happening right in front of us at any given moment. This is a terrific goal for general self-improvement, and although meditation seems an excellent way to begin exploring these modes of thought, I’m unconvinced that it is the only effective way to do so.
The big question now is: will I start meditating? And the honest answer is probably not––at least not now. I recently discussed meditation with a friend who pointed out that while a lot of good research has been done on the benefits of meditation, most studies compare people who meditate regularly with people who don’t have daily “wellness” routines of any kind. I can’t be sure this is completely accurate given that I don’t know its specific source, but the general point made sense to me because, presumptuous as this might sound, I feel like I already experience moments that might be called “zen” on a fairly regular basis. I often slip into what feels like a wave of deep gratitude for my personal possessions and relationships, and it’s not uncommon for me to lose track of my sense of self when engaged in physical tasks. Many of my daily and weekly habits help bring these moments about: reading, writing, running, spending time with loved ones, gardening, building, stretching, basic core exercises.
It seems clear that there are particular states of consciousness that are only accessible through meditation, and I have to accept that refusing to take up the practice might bar me from experiencing them. But I don’t think the general, long-term benefits that meditation confers on its practitioners can only be reached by one path. There are many paths to enlightened thinking, and for now, I’m happy with the ones I’ve already discovered. I do think, however, that meditation might be a great tool in the future, when perhaps my life becomes busier or more stressful than it is now. So I’ll keep the idea in my back pocket and wait for a more propitious time, if one should arrive.
This review was originally published on my blog, words&dirt.
One reaction to Austin’s approach that I didn’t anticipate was my eventual realization that, even though I appreciate the effort to legitimize claims about meditation using neuroscientific evidence, I don’t actually care very much about the neuro-details. As a non-specialist with a limited ability to understand the nuanced interactions between specific brain regions and circuits, I found many of Austin’s explanations rather abstruse and disconnected from his general observations about meditation. That’s not to say the author fails to connect the dots between empirical evidence and certain phenomenological aspects of meditation, but just to acknowledge that his method was only partially effective for a reader with my particular background and interests.
Though I had a lot of little criticisms along the way, my only major problem with Austin’s portrait of meditation is his irresponsible use of the terms “objective” and “direct experience.” Throughout the text, Austin repeatedly claims that selfless meditation techniques can lead to moments when “every Self-centered obstruction vanishes from view” and “one’s brain can realize the stark, cool clarity of objective vision. During such an awakened state of consciousness enlightenment simply means seeing things as they really are” (159, emphasis his). This is nonsense, especially coming from a scientist. It seems clear that humans are capable of having experiences that are not shot through with our own selfish desires and self-referential thinking, and also that such experiences are desirable in some circumstances. I also have no objection to the claim that meditation is a great way to improve our chances of having such experiences. But the leap of equating the disappearance of “Self-centered obstructions” with “objective vision” goes too far. Austin is describing how meditation can help the mind open the way for natural forms of processing that don’t necessitate mediation by circuits that generate our sense of self. Fair enough. But to claim that success in this project constitutes an ability to see “things as they really are” is preposterous. Loss of self-centeredness is not the same as objectivity. It’s just teaching oneself a new cognitive style, not emancipating thought from its corporeal, subjective bonds. The subject does not escape its basic sensory apparatus, nor does he or she gain the ability to “see objectively,” which pretty much any neuroscientist will admit is impossible. Austin neglects his obligation to take up this problem directly, and also to clarify the sense in which he so freely uses the term “objective” to describe supposedly selfless observational experiences.
This is especially curious considering Austin’s preoccupation with the interesting distinction between egocentric (self-centered) and allocentric (other-centered) processing. Austin’s research indicates that the brain’s “dorsal egocentric, top-down networks” function differently from our “ventral allocentric, bottom-up pathways” (24, emphasis his). Our egocentric thinking styles take place in ”higher” brain regions responsible for (among other things) generating our sense of personal identity, whereas allocentric thought arises from “lower” brain regions that developed earlier in our evolution.
Austin’s view, which seems both accurate and significant, is that we spend too much time allowing and even actively training our egocentric forms of processing to quell our potential for allocentric thought. The result is a brain overly concerned with its own selfish needs and desires, one that imbues objects and people with value only insofar as that process leads to the acquisition of self-oriented goals. It’s the difference between constructing perceptual models that emphasize how objects and people relate to you versus how they relate to one another. Austin advocates for a more balanced relationship between these two cognitive styles. He admits that allocentric thinking is hard to achieve and usually fleeting, but attests to its importance in helping people become more compassionate, calm, and effective when responding to adverse conditions. There is plenty of evidence (both scientific and anecdotal) to back up this view, and I think it points to what is probably the single most important finding about the usefulness of meditative practice. It’s a shame that Austin feels the need to equivocate allocentric thinking with objectivity, because this overreach at least partially compromises an otherwise meaningful observation about how meditation affects the mind.
Meditating Selflessly also provides a healthy outlook about exactly how difficult it can be to change our internalized habits of action and thought. For Austin, this is primarily a matter of how we focus our attention, which he characterizes as “our essential, vanguard mental function. Indeed, attention’s sharp point serves as the foremost tip of consciousness. Attention is the point that impales stimuli and anchors them” (13, emphasis his). As a person embedded in a culture that tries to splinter my attention at every turn, I am quite sympathetic to this view. I’ve no doubt that the active cultivation of attentiveness to the present moment would improve my life, mostly by mitigating my tendencies to indulge in obsessive future planning and the execution of mindless habits (e.g. checking my phone every two minutes). Austin explains that learning to adapt one’s attention through a combined method of deep concentration and “letting go” of illusions that we can completely control our thoughts is a great way to increase the availability of our attention to the whatever is happening right in front of us at any given moment. This is a terrific goal for general self-improvement, and although meditation seems an excellent way to begin exploring these modes of thought, I’m unconvinced that it is the only effective way to do so.
The big question now is: will I start meditating? And the honest answer is probably not––at least not now. I recently discussed meditation with a friend who pointed out that while a lot of good research has been done on the benefits of meditation, most studies compare people who meditate regularly with people who don’t have daily “wellness” routines of any kind. I can’t be sure this is completely accurate given that I don’t know its specific source, but the general point made sense to me because, presumptuous as this might sound, I feel like I already experience moments that might be called “zen” on a fairly regular basis. I often slip into what feels like a wave of deep gratitude for my personal possessions and relationships, and it’s not uncommon for me to lose track of my sense of self when engaged in physical tasks. Many of my daily and weekly habits help bring these moments about: reading, writing, running, spending time with loved ones, gardening, building, stretching, basic core exercises.
It seems clear that there are particular states of consciousness that are only accessible through meditation, and I have to accept that refusing to take up the practice might bar me from experiencing them. But I don’t think the general, long-term benefits that meditation confers on its practitioners can only be reached by one path. There are many paths to enlightened thinking, and for now, I’m happy with the ones I’ve already discovered. I do think, however, that meditation might be a great tool in the future, when perhaps my life becomes busier or more stressful than it is now. So I’ll keep the idea in my back pocket and wait for a more propitious time, if one should arrive.
This review was originally published on my blog, words&dirt.
March 5, 2018
LETTING GO MEANS NOT STRIVING FOR ABSOLUTE PERFECTION, YET STILL ACCOMPLISHING THE ESSENTIALS.
Taste as much of this as you can. Swallow what you need and spit out the rest.
Long-term meditative training has the potential to slowly transform many unfruitful character traits toward more wholesome, affirmative directions.
By focusing our attention on the breath or environment we de-emphasise self.
Commit yourself to start simplifying your lifestyle.
One mind - refers to the basic clarity and receptive nature of mind once we liberate it from discursive thoughts driven by unskilful emotional reverberations.
What decreases with stillness is not awareness of the world but the tumult of clinging thoughts and passions that impede our awareness of the world.
When your back gets straight, your mind will become straight.
In zazen, leave your front and back door open. Let thoughts come and go. Just dont serve them tea.
3 crucial self-inflicted trouble-makers;
i) our longings for = greed
ii) our loathing against = hatred
iii) our delusions of self = ignorance
The more you practice the techniques of that train attention the more your self-centred fires of greed, hatred and ignorance tend to die out.
Generosity acts as a remedy for your greed, while simple acts of kindness gradually erode hatred.
Taste as much of this as you can. Swallow what you need and spit out the rest.
Long-term meditative training has the potential to slowly transform many unfruitful character traits toward more wholesome, affirmative directions.
By focusing our attention on the breath or environment we de-emphasise self.
Commit yourself to start simplifying your lifestyle.
One mind - refers to the basic clarity and receptive nature of mind once we liberate it from discursive thoughts driven by unskilful emotional reverberations.
What decreases with stillness is not awareness of the world but the tumult of clinging thoughts and passions that impede our awareness of the world.
When your back gets straight, your mind will become straight.
In zazen, leave your front and back door open. Let thoughts come and go. Just dont serve them tea.
3 crucial self-inflicted trouble-makers;
i) our longings for = greed
ii) our loathing against = hatred
iii) our delusions of self = ignorance
The more you practice the techniques of that train attention the more your self-centred fires of greed, hatred and ignorance tend to die out.
Generosity acts as a remedy for your greed, while simple acts of kindness gradually erode hatred.
April 17, 2018
A mix of information on what happens in the brain, and practical tips for meditating. Found it helpful to explain some of the phenomena I feel when meditating. Some of the neuroscience material was too advanced.
Read
August 19, 2012Didn't finish. Trying to be a neurology book and a guide to Zen practice at once, and doesn't do either very substantially.
March 18, 2016
I have picked up some good things to add to my practice, however, most of the book is filled with very technical explanations of how meditation affects the brain. Not exactly what I was looking for.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews