Listening to Thoughts
Thoughts arise and subside into nowhere, from nowhere. They are the material of nowhere—never held, seen, or verified from the outside. We can become possessed, depressed, overwhelmed, and driven to all sorts of neurotic things that lead to mental illness and instability from believing the thoughts that pass through the mind. Therefore, become acquainted with the thoughts. Listen to them. Most people go through life with a full conversation in their mind that they never truly listen to. Many go on believing the thoughts in their mind without ever questioning them. Confront your thoughts. Stop the stream midway—to whom are you speaking? Certainly, much of the discursive thought we engage in is not necessary for the experience we are having.
There are, of course, myriad intelligent ways to commune and converse with our thoughts. Thinking, pondering, and contemplative rumination are cornerstones of our humanity. We should not be quick to say that thought is the bad guy here, or that we should entertain the notion of having a crystal-clear mind free of all thought. That is a recipe for frustration for many. Thought is the beautiful realm of imagination, where ideas are born from nowhere, where creativity is sparked and kindled like a fire, where philosophy, art, and science are warmed by the heat of that fire.
I enjoy thinking. I enjoy thinking, perhaps because I have learned how to look at the mind. I have learned how to listen effectively and distinguish between mind and mindlessness, between thought and thoughtlessness, between attention and distraction, between awareness and unawareness. For it is when we are lost in thought without knowing, when we are thinking without the awareness that we are thinking, when we are involved in an inner narration without ever listening—that is the problem.
If you are constantly engrossed by the contents of the mind—the ideas, desires, and preferences—the lens through which you view the world becomes coloured. If you learn to listen to the silence between thoughts, you can begin to see how one thought arises and ceases without getting entangled in it. Therefore, examine the thoughts in the mind. Examine the mind itself. See that its nature is empty, peaceful, and silent. In this recognition, become present and listen. Where, then, is the affliction? Where, then, is the problem?
The following cues can help you listen to the contents of your mind:
1. Find the Silent Mind
Try this: find the silent mind. From there, let the thoughts go and do as they please. Your job is to watch or listen, to see what they do and every which way they go. Become curious about what the next thought might be, and without moving from this silent listening, see what happens.
2. Inquiry
As you become acquainted with the conversation in your head, begin to ask yourself some questions:
How does it sound? How does it articulate? Does it have an accent? What choice of words does it use?
Does it speak fast or slow? Does it use words at all, or more abstract, sensory-based images and feelings that culminate and translate as a type of conversation?
Is it more engaging in the morning, the middle of the day, or in the evening? How is it before sleep, and how is it upon waking?
Is there space, or is it contracted when triggered by negative reactions from external circumstances?
3. Turn Up the Volume of Your Complaints
Turning up the volume on complaints enables us to face them directly, reducing the power they hold over us through unconscious influence. The intensity of a complaint often dissipates when seen for what it is: an ephemeral, insubstantial construct. Moreover, when you consciously observe and amplify a complaint, you create space between the thought and the awareness observing it. This can help you recognize that you are not the complaint or the thinker but the silent awareness in which these arise.
Use these cues to confront the contents of your mind. Stalk your thoughts like a bird of prey flying high in the sky, keeping a wide eye and ear on the landscape below. Listen like a hawk to the movements of the mind. Every time a thought arises, you can practise labelling it by saying, “thought, thought,” and then listen to the silence that follows.
Alternatively, you might like to question each unaware and unexamined thought with one of the following prompts:
“Who is speaking right now?”
“To whom are you speaking?”
Or simply, “Who are you?”
In this way, you hold a mirror up to the thought form, allowing it to see its inherent emptiness.