After writing a post on mindfulness recently (Mind Power in Physical and Mental Therapies), I had some correspondence with my former life coach Serge Prengel. Serge shared with me something he’d written about mindfulness in response to the same news report, which I thought I would share here, republished with gratitude to Serge.

Mindfulness Coaching & Therapy

By Serge Prengel“>Serge Prengel

What is mindfulness, and what does it have to do with therapy or coaching?

1. Is it mystical?
First, I’d like to dispel some of the esoteric, mystical associations that many people have with the word “mindfulness’. For many people, “mindfulness” still has the connotation of something magical, endowed with mysterious powers. In fact, mindfulness is very much a part of the human experience. While some people do develop their ability to reach “higher” states of consciousness, everybody has the ability to be mindful and to increase that ability.

Helping clients practice mindfulness has long been a part of many traditional, talk-based psychotherapies, even though it has not necessarily been conceptualized as “mindfulness” within the theories underlying these therapies. For instance, many therapists help clients grow from self-consciousness into self awareness, without necessarily thinking of this as mindfulness training. Another example is how therapists help clients develop the “observing self”: In addition to noticing your mood, you become aware that there also is an “observing self” that notices how you feel, but doesn’t drown in this feeling.

2. The practitioner’s mindfulness

Having a personal experience of mindfulness has profoundly influenced the way many therapists and coaches experience what they do, and changed the way we do our work.
By this, I do not mean that we “prescribe” meditation to our clients. In fact, many of us do not specifically refer to either “mindfulness” or “meditation” during the work we do with our clients. But the profound change is that it influences how we are, and what we do, during our sessions. The practice of mindfulness helps us look for a different quality of listening - - a deeper way of paying attention to what clients say and mean.

By the way, the experience of mindfulness doesn’t just come from the practice of traditional meditation techniques. Standard “lotus” meditation is not the only way to mindfulness. Many Buddhist traditions include such practices as “walking meditation”. Some traditions go further, considering that any activity can be an opportunity to practice a mindful attitude (e.g. the injunction to “chop wood, carry water” as a way to spiritual development). Other gateways include “Focusing”, which was developed by Gene Gendlin as he analyzed the process of therapy to understand what happened in successful therapies.

3. Transmitting an experience

As a therapist/coach, you have the possibility of shaping the experience of what happens in sessions in order to help your clients “get it”. You are not teaching a whole class to try to impart them some general knowledge of what mindfulness might be. You see one client at a time, and this gives you the opportunity to tailor each session to help each client get a direct, personal experience of mindfulness.

This experience starts with what I was describing in the previous paragraph: How a mindful therapist can give a client the experience of being listened to and heard in a profound way. This continues into a creative process that is based on the very specific circumstances of this very specific client, and the nature of the interaction between this very specific client and this very specific therapist.

Over time, clients come to internalize this mixture of mindfulness, receptivity and creativity. Neural pathways adapt so that the client knows how to get back to that state of mindfulness/receptivity/creativity without thinking about it, without having to remember a procedure (much the way “procedural memory” helps us remember how to use a bike).

4. Self-regulation

As the findings of neuroscience make more inroads into the psychotherapy world, there is a growing interest in “bottom up” processes as opposed to “top down” processes. In a nutshell, “top-down” approaches focus on how our “higher” functions, such as the intellect or the will, influence what we do. “Bottom up” approaches focus on how what happens at a sensorimotor level affects what we do and who we are. Far from seeing the brain as just the organ of cognition, we tend to see it more as the place that receives input both from the outside world and from inside ourselves, and that regulates our functioning “from the bottom up”.

So there is a growing interest in how mindfulness can help us enhance the natural processes of self-regulation. This is not done in a mechanical way – i.e. saying “meditate 15 minutes a day” the way you would say “take two aspirins”. Regulating a complex mechanism is a complex thing, as everybody knows from the experience of how difficult it is to relax by just thinking “I should relax”.

Several contemporary therapies have developed ways to help people achieve more self-regulation in dealing with difficult or overwhelming circumstances. The process of doing that involves moment-by-moment attention to fleeting experiences, including body senses. This is facilitated by of the ability of the therapist to be attuned to the client, and to have the ability to be mindful during this process. This creates a learning experience where the client experiences mindfulness and develops skills to increase the ability to be mindful. While this has a lot of similarity with the skills fostered by meditation, it is not meditation per se - - and it goes further than most people can hope to achieve individually through meditation.

Serge Prengel

Monkeys controlling robotics make the headlines (again) and the new, old practice of meditation gets some focus.

Back in January I wrote about monkeys who had used their minds to make robots walk on a treadmill. The article pointed out that the scientists involved had had monkeys control robotic limbs with their minds back in 2003. Along the same lines, in what The NY Times calls “the most striking demonstration to date of brain-machine interface technology” Nature has published results of experiments in which monkeys controlled prosthetic limbs to feed themselves. (Their own arms were gently restrained.) The results hold great promise for a new generation of advanced prosthetics. (Unfortunately, I can imagine that the Pentagon will be interested, too.)

And in the world of mind over melancholy the Times reports on the growing trend in using mindfulness meditation to help people combat such things as anxiety, depression, and substance abuse. Generally an optimistic report, citing considerable enthusiasm and some degree of success, it also points out, a little ruefully, that some in the field don’t share this enthusiasm and question the success, even warning that for some the mindfulness meditation seems to make things worse. The concept: In a calm, peaceful, centered state, the subject allows himself to experience the emotions that underlie his symptoms, learning to explore them and diffusing their power.

He didn’t call it mindfulness meditation (he didn’t call it anything) but this sounds a lot like much of the work I did with my life coach / therapist over the course of the last few years. So, from personal experience, I’d add that the skills of the therapist would be critical to determining success. Anyone can play the piano, but only a pianist can make the instrument produce reliably pleasant sounds. Or, perhaps a more apt analogy, you wouldn’t trust a podiatrist with your by-pass surgery.

Serge, in my experience, was an incredibly skilled and sophisticated practitioner, and with him I achieved regular breakthroughs that have stayed with me and changed my life. But I can easily imagine that the same techniques applied without supreme care, patience and respect could well make matters worse. The therapy subject places his or her most delicate feelings in the hands of the therapist, and the interaction between them is critical. (As a case in point, the article talks about therapies that last eight weeks, clearly not enough time for the therapist to win the trust of his or her patient.)

All of which brings me to thinking, curiously, about Scott McClellan, the ousted Bush press secretary, who casts various aspersions on the current administration’s delusions, deceptions and duplicity in his new book. Not surprisingly, the White House “responds negatively” as the Times puts it. And Bush, true to form, says he won’t read it — he’s too busy deciding what to meddle in next.

In the book, McClellan describes Bush as a president who could convince himself of anything (hmmm), claims that both he and Bush were duped about the Plame leak, and describes Bush in tears as he sympathizes with his old friend just after he’s given him the boot. As I think about this it summons up a mental image of Rove and Cheney controlling Bush as deftly as a pair of monkeys reaching for grapes with prosthetic limbs, simultaneous with an image of Bush engaging in some kind of distorted mindfulness therapy with his old buddy McClellan, wallowing in memories of the good old days as the tears roll down his cheeks. Well the therapy clearly didn’t leave McClellan feeling warm and fuzzy, I wonder what it did for Bush…

On systems that respond to feedback; home energy, Google, balance, and depression.

I woke up this morning at 4:30am and spent the best part of an hour awake before falling back to sleep. I’ve been groggy and tired all day, and feeling less productive than usual. My body is telling me to rest. But I’m telling it to keep going.

I’ve come across several stories today that refer to the value of monitoring a system in order to optimize it. The Energy Department’s Pacific Northwest National Laboratory, for instance, conducted a research study in which it equipped over 100 homes with power montoring and control systems, allowing the home-owners to trade off their energy use and expense with their habits and comfort (e.g., choosing to maintain the house at a slightly less comfortable temperature during periods of peak energy demand). The study found that people typically reduced their energy bills, and thereby the demand on the local power grid, by around 10%.

Another story tells about Google’s experiment on its own employees, letting them engage in speculative trading for modest prize money in order to derive information about its office culture and communication patterns. Google found that people who sit close together speculate similarly, showing that they communicate better than friends or coworkers. Google is using this information to help it plan its seating arrangements to foster valuable communication.

In the NY Times Health section, we read about one of the human body’s built-in feedback mechanisms — our sense of balance — and how it tends to deteriorate with age. Fortunately we can exercize it, improving our balance as we age, and reducing our risk of falling (the article tells us how).

All living organisms represent complex, complementary feedback systems. The organism responds to external and internal stimuli and adjusts accordingly, aiming to balance the system. Hungry? Eat. Full? Stop eating. Tired? Rest.

As human beings, being conscious, we can override or undermine our feedback mechanisms. Sometimes we don’t eat because we don’t want to get fat. Or we jump out of a plane, despite our fear, because we want to experience the thrill of sky-diving. Or we push on through tiredness because we don’t have the time or opportunity to rest.

All of which is getting me somewhere. Our mood is another feedback mechanism; whether or not we feel happy or depressed feeds back into our thoughts, actions and feelings. But it’s a confusing and sometimes dysfunctional mechanism.

I didn’t figure this out until my life-coach / therapist helped me see the pattern. Over several years of working with him I would go through periods of depression. He would help me root out the cause of the depression and, inevitably, coming to grips with the cause would leave me feeling happier and with more self-insight. The pattern showed that depression provided much needed downtime for introspection and gave me a sign that I was grappling with something.

And I’m writing about therapy because… of the debate about a NY Times “PsychCentral” posting. The comments, and their passion, made me realize just what a difficult subject therapy can be. I felt the need to add my own feedback on the subject.

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On the concept of free will and its application to personal development.

As I watched March of The Penguins with my family the other evening my wife asked whether the penguins, who spend months of each year huddled together in freezing conditions, gradually starving, ever wonder whether there’s something better out there. The film’s accompanying commentary (narrated by Morgan Freeman) often wanders into sappy projections of human psychology, ascribing human thoughts and feelings to the penguins, spoiling to some extent a fascinating documentary.

We can say with some degree of certainty that penguins do not conceive of choice in the same way people do. But how do people conceive of choice and is it an illusion?

As a teenager I was sure that there was no such thing as free will, no such thing as choice. It seemed obvious to me that any response to any stimulus must be pre-determined by environment and instinct. At the most fundamental level, our minds are complex but absolute mechanisms, sets of synaptic switches, and every “choice” is simply the next configuration of these switches determined by the configuration that came before as influenced by a new set of external stimuli.

In a way I still believe this, but I now think that it skips over an explanation for the concepts of free will and choice, and in doing so lets us abdicate responsibility for our actions or inactions.

Perversity, I think, provides one of the clearest ways to conceive of free will: Imagine someone sitting in a temperature-controlled room with a thermostat. The person can raise or lower the temperature in the room by adjusting the thermostat. If he’s cold he can make it warmer. If it’s hot, he can make it cooler. But, if he’s feeling perverse, he can make it colder when he’s cold or hotter when he’s hot.

It’s at this level that free will and choice have meaning. We conceive of a set of choices and decide to act or not act either according to what we feel we should do, or according to what we feel we shouldn’t do. (This is why perversity provides such a good mental template for the concept.) Being conscious and having access to abstract concepts, we can conceive of doing things that counteract our physiological and emotional instincts.
At the next level down a conscious choice may well reflect a pre-conditioned set of psychological and environmental switches, but that’s not the point. We encounter free will and choice as we conceive of an action or inaction and consider them abstractly, consciously.

Now, here’s the trick. We can train ourselves to reset our switches, essentially changing the current conditions of our psychology. You can read this post and go away with a newly set switch, a switch that will permit you to decide to change a behavior that you don’t like. You have then exerted free will and contributed to your own personal development.

The most important part of this insight is that the results of these changes can be cumulative and can snowball. A choice to practice yoga or start therapy or quit drinking, for instance, can lead to a whole new set of experiences that reset a whole bunch of switches in our minds. Small choices can lead to big changes.

This, I believe, is the level at which we experience free will. Acknowledging the power of choice, even if it is mechanistically illusory, can lead to profound and powerful changes that help us get more out of life.

(My book LIFE! contains a more searching discussion of these ideas.)