Compassionate Conversation Toolkit
It begins with the thread that is your full presence, which requires being able to slow down your interiority. Followed by weaving together heartful listening, ego-less questions and artful reflection, in accord with the rhythm of breath, body, being.
1. Slowing Down
Slowing down the present moment may be the fastest way to get to the heart of the matter. Because it is in slowing down that each moment reveals its depth and richness, and chronos (quantified time as measured linearly in units) makes way for kairos (qualitative time as in both timelessness and timeliness) and ultimately aion (the unbounded eternal). When I slow down, I find myself more able to:
Slowing down means:
This naturally means that it’s a tad more difficult to be compassionate if:
In other words, if you can’t make ‘as-much-time-as-is-needed’ in that moment, it’s better to propose a later time when you’re able to slow time down. It’s really not about how efficient the conversation is from a ‘solutioning’ perspective. Instead, a compassionate connection is about how satiated the soul and spirit (for both parties) is after the conversation. The latter will ultimately save you much more time in the long run 😊
2. Heartful Listening
Heartful listening is an active and embodied process of sustaining focused attention on the speaker, in the absence of one’s ego.
Active because I am filtering out distractions (i) from the immediate external environment (including my phone), and (ii) arising internally from my own biases and filters.
Embodied because I am attending to tone of voice, somatic expressions, and word patterns. Often I find it useful to alternate between listening with my eyes closed (but still facing the speaker), and looking intently at the speaker, for brief moments.
The above is more likely to be achieved when my ego’s not around because it means I’m less inclined to judge, categorise, become impatient, or succumb to the temptation to “be right”.
Heartful listening often involves:
In the presence of heartful listening, a few things happen (to the speaker):
By the way, all the above can be practiced by you, on yourself, as well 😊 It can also be practiced on someone you disagree with. Try it. It may not be as radical as you may think.
3. Ego-less Questions
In the context of a compassionate conversation, what does this even mean? Well, if rhetorical questions function to make a point in the form of a question, whilst a Socratic questions aim to expand thinking, and open-ended questions serve the purpose of co-discovering more, then ego-less questions may be understood as questions that the other person wishes to be asked so that they may speak their truth and thus be free from their suffering.
A question not asked, is a door not opened. Alternatively, you may also imagine a question as a beam of light in a pitch dark room that determines where attention goes. In that sense, your questions may either be leading the person towards the door, or deeper into the darkness, or round and round in circles. Remember, you can exit the darkness, but not the sufferer.
I was once asked how it was that I came to ask questions that bring forth tears and long-held secrets in friends, acquaintances, and strangers alike. Here’s my honest attempt to give form to what had largely been a “felt” experience. Ego-less questions is neither that which can be manufactured at will, nor commanded into existence. It is instead a combination of three qualities.
First is tenderful approach, which is my regard of every conversation as a pilgrimage of sorts, not in the hippie flower-power sense, or in the religious chanting sense, or in the transcendental spiritual sense. But with simple gratitude that another human being has chosen to spend time with me, and quiet excitement at the possibility of learning. This is regardless of whether it’s a ‘casual’ conversation with no agenda per se, or a conversation where I know that difficult / ‘suffering’ topics will be discussed.
This makes it easier to remind myself during the conversation to be humble (choose kindness over being right), curious (don’t assume that what I see is what I get, though be careful about being unnecessarily probing), and playful (there is always lightness amidst darkness, but there is a right time for it). I’ve learnt that these three attitude create a more inviting spaciousness for people to speak freely.
Second is heartful listening, because I want to be sure that I’m not hearing only what I wish to hear instead of what the speaker wishes to communicate. Third is artful reflection, because I want to be sure that I’m not mis-interpreting or mis-attributing.
Most importantly, the combined effect of tenderful approach, heartful listening and artful reflection is to leave Ego at the doorway, i.e. I aspire not to bring Ego into the conversation. For the sake of simplicity, because Ego as a topic is as vast as the universe (for an accessible starting point to learn more about the ego, check out Eckhart Tolle), Ego is that which privileges “I am …” above all other realities. Ego affords a sense of “identity” in the form of attachments to possessions, skills, qualifications, achievements etc. So naturally, Ego protects the “I am …” at all costs, because our identity is our sense of self. This however masks the fact that we’ve simply been persuaded to believe that our biographies are our identities.
On that basis, an Ego-ful question may be understood as a question that is more about me, i.e. to show how smart I am, how right I am, how caring I am, how lucky I am, how well-educated I am, how rich I am, and the list goes on.
So, if an Ego-less question is a negation of all the above, what does it sound like? For me, it begins with how it feels. I’ve always imagined a conversation as a landscape, and I am merely a visitor. It is a landscape that is a melding of both my world and the other person’s world, so there are certain features that seem familiar, but others which are completely foreign. And so I imagine heartful listening as an embodied surveying of the landscape, e.g. there’s something sparkling over there, let’s go take a look; wait, there’s a rustling in the bushes to my left, let’s check that out; wait, a dragon just flew past, let’s follow it; wait, there are people having a picnic over there, let’s join. In this landscape, I am playful, curious, ever so respectful, and without Ego.
When it comes time to ask a question, I stand still, in silence, because I see questions emerging from the earth - some hesitantly, some forcefully, some assuredly, some whimsically - and I don’t wish to disturb the emerging. Sometimes there are only a few questions, other times, plenty. But what I’m trying to spot is which question is resonating the strongest. Sometimes it’s the shiniest question, sometimes it’s the biggest question, sometimes it’s the most beautiful question, sometimes it’s the strangest question. My task is to spot the question with the strongest resonance, and unquestioningly offer it.
The point of this exercise is to make sure that the decision is made in Ego’s absence, because if Ego’s there, it may say “that’s a stupid question, no educated / polite / caring person would dare ask it” or “who do you think you are, you have no right to ask that question, it’s too sensitive” or “only a privileged entitled person like you would ask that question” etc. In other words, I’ve made the precondition of whether to ask a question about how well it makes me look, according to naturally (or ironically) my own estimation alone.
Is it always an earth shattering WOW question? I sincerely do not know. But more importantly, that’s not the point. If it was the point, I’ve once again made it about me. The less I care about it, the more likely that it is a question that the person’s been longing to be asked, so that they may speak their truth. In the absence of Ego, I am better able to sense which question among the many possibles, is the one that needs to be asked, to be of service to my conversation partner.
4. Artful Reflection
During a conversation when someone is sharing their suffering with you, and you are heartfully listening, how do you truly signal that you’re fully present to, and with, them?
Being fully present with another human being in their suffering is not the same as “I get it”, because I don’t believe anyone can truly “get” another person’s suffering. Though there may be similarities, suffering is fundamentally, an intimately private affair. Even assuming that you can walk in their shoes, it remains that both your feet are different. If you accept that premise, logically then “I understand …” becomes an improbability. For that reason, phrases I avoid: “I understand …”, “It must be …”, “I get it …”
Instead, the reflection sentence is comprised of 3 components.
Step 1: Tentative guessing
First, I begin with “sounds like …” or “seems like …” or “I can imagine …” in a tentative tone. Tentative in the sense of guessing, because I can only ever guess and it gives the speaker an opportunity to say “no, that’s not what I meant …” This correction is NOT about me getting it wrong, because I may have fully understood what was shared, but the speaker, in listening to my reflection may feel “yes, I did say that but in listening to your reflection, it’s not what I really think / feel …”
PS. Personally, I prefer not to use the word “I” in these conversations as a way to retain focus on the other person. However, if you find it difficult, then “I can imagine …” is probably a more honest expression than “I understand …” That being said, compassionate conversations are neither an exercise in semantics nor being “holier” than thou, i.e. if the other person wishes to hear from you that you “get it” and/or you’re finding it challenging not to express yourself in this way, then by all means.
It is the spirit, and not the letter, of the compassionate script that matters.
Step 2: Name the emotion
Second, I name the emotion I believe was displayed by the speaker, e.g. “Wow, seems like you were angry that …”, or “Yeah, I can imagine why you would feel sad that …” A critical point to note here is that I am naming an emotion, and not a false emotion, aka judgmental interpretation reflected in words such as betrayed or disappointed. Betrayal is an act that trigger the emotions of anger or fear. Disappointment is a judgment, and beneath that judgment may be the emotions of sadness or fear.
To name a fake emotion is to feed the suffering, whereas naming an emotion is to touch on a silent truth from which the journey of freedom may begin.
For the sake of analytical clarity, an emotion may be understood as a hormonal cocktail of various chemicals that is released into your bloodstream in response to an external stimulus. The physiological impact of that hormonal cocktail in your bloodstream may be increased heart rate, quickened breathing, pupils dilating, blood being redirected to your prefrontal cortex etc. Feeling is a word we attach to the bodily sentation to (abstractly) name the impact of the combined physical sensation.
For more on emotion, click here.
Step 3: Share observable facts
Third, I share a summary of observable facts, not an interpretation, e.g. “I can imagine that you feel sad that it was the third time you were not offered the promotion you applied for” or “Sounds like you’re angry that in spite of leaving all those messages, she has still not responded” or “Seems like Alex’s comments has left you feeling fearful about your job security”. In other words, an observable fact is one that anyone, when presented with the same set of ‘evidence’ will come to the same conclusion. Diving a bit deeper:
Your artful reflection is an opportunity for the speaker to listen deeply to themselves, both what was said and what was not said. It is categorically not about you getting anything right / wrong. Remember, this is not about you. And to finish? Silence.
5. Breath, Body, Being
Surprisingly, when a conference attendee asked how to begin the journey of compassion, I heard the word breath whispered. For a split second, the whisper unbalanced me with its resonance. What followed immediately was equally strange, for it was a cheeky certitude, akin to what I imagine would be the sense of elation a child who’ve just been shown where the treasure chest of candies are, may feel! Then I had a decision to make, i.e. stick with my prepared script, or follow the breath. The latter felt more fun 😊
Upon accepting the invitation to step into the privacy of another’s suffering, it’s wise to remind oneself that the terrain is always new. Yes, though there may be some sense of familiarity in a word, a phrase, a tone, a cadence, a glance, a silence … no landscape of suffering is ever exactly the same, even if it’s that of the same individual. Which is to say, no one really knows what to expect. Thus vigilance, humility, and being quick-witted are quite necessary skills, to keep safe both one’s self and that of the individual whom one is companioning, vis-a-vis managing unexpected emotions.
Contrary to popular belief, it is FOCUS, and not calmness that unlocks these skills.
Focus being the ability to sustain disciplined attention to attend to what matters, and to stay aligned to one’s compassionate orientation. It is the capacity for heightened present-moment sensory awareness (of self, others and environment); which makes possible precision and wholeness of observation; in turn increasing the chances of clarity of knowing. The gateway to all these good stuff is … the ability to master one’s breath.
Whilst it may be the mind that desires calmness, it is through the breadth that the body is calmed, which in turn gives the mind access to the brain’s prefrontal cortex where conscious decisions may be made to “override” habitual reactive behaviours .
I believe most of us wake up every morning, not with the explicit intention of making other people’s life miserable, but instead, we all wish to “just” be ourselves. Naturally, this raises the perennial question of a human be-ing’s fundamental nature. And precisely because many a narratives abound, it is beyond this brief sharing to delve into any one, in any sensible detail. So I will offer only the current scientific narrative that, comparable to fear, compassion is believed to be a hardwired motivational system. Translation? Compassion is encoded into our genes, i.e. “natural” and “instinctual”.
But it seems that it is quite easy for the compassionate instinct to be hijacked (e.g. by another motivational system such as fear). Because our actions will always be aligned with the dominant motivational system, in order to switch between the systems, the mind needs to be able to access the prefrontal cortex which is the region of the brain which “has been implicated in planning complex cognitive behavior, personality expression, decision making, and moderating social behaviour”.
This is where the breath of mindfulness (otherwise known as training in awareness and attention) plays a role wherein the body becomes an orientation device to bring into alignment intention, thoughts and actions (This 8min video by Dr. Hansaji Yogendra contains a simple explanation). And it seems the magic number is 5.5 belly breaths per minute.
In case some of you may be wondering “hang on, isn’t the way I’ve been breathing all these years natural?” Well, how most of us breathe today is a function of habituated posture, and not nature. For instructions in natural breathing, learn from a baby. Alternatively, check out James Nestor’s book <Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art>.
Returning thus to the ancient art of breathing makes possible as well, returning to our compassionate self.
It begins with the thread that is your full presence, which requires being able to slow down your interiority. Followed by weaving together heartful listening, ego-less questions and artful reflection, in accord with the rhythm of breath, body, being.
1. Slowing Down
Slowing down the present moment may be the fastest way to get to the heart of the matter. Because it is in slowing down that each moment reveals its depth and richness, and chronos (quantified time as measured linearly in units) makes way for kairos (qualitative time as in both timelessness and timeliness) and ultimately aion (the unbounded eternal). When I slow down, I find myself more able to:
- Respond in ways that are aligned with my intention
- Listen more fully, not miss words
- Make the speaker feel more relaxed
- Pick up non-verbal cues
- Keep my ego in check
Slowing down means:
- Not rushing in to fill silence
- Sensing if more wishes to be said
- Going with the flow and not the clock
- Speaking at a slower pace and softer tone
- Checking for understanding by reflecting what was shared
This naturally means that it’s a tad more difficult to be compassionate if:
- There’s a meeting you have to attend 10min, in which case it’s wise to say, something to the effect “I can see this is important to you, and I don’t wish to cut the conversation short as I have a meeting I need to attend in 10 minutes. Would it be ok if I pop by your office later this afternoon?”
- There’s a presentation you have to prepare for and your mind would be restless, in which case it’s wise to say, something to the effect “I would like to be able to give you my full attention, and what would work best for me is to have a drink later after work. Would that work for you?”
- You’re impatient with “that kind” of problem and just wish to get the conversation over and done with, in which case it’s wise to say, something to the effect, “It’s difficult for me to see how I can meaningfully help so I’m curious if you know what exactly you need from me?”
In other words, if you can’t make ‘as-much-time-as-is-needed’ in that moment, it’s better to propose a later time when you’re able to slow time down. It’s really not about how efficient the conversation is from a ‘solutioning’ perspective. Instead, a compassionate connection is about how satiated the soul and spirit (for both parties) is after the conversation. The latter will ultimately save you much more time in the long run 😊
2. Heartful Listening
Heartful listening is an active and embodied process of sustaining focused attention on the speaker, in the absence of one’s ego.
Active because I am filtering out distractions (i) from the immediate external environment (including my phone), and (ii) arising internally from my own biases and filters.
Embodied because I am attending to tone of voice, somatic expressions, and word patterns. Often I find it useful to alternate between listening with my eyes closed (but still facing the speaker), and looking intently at the speaker, for brief moments.
The above is more likely to be achieved when my ego’s not around because it means I’m less inclined to judge, categorise, become impatient, or succumb to the temptation to “be right”.
Heartful listening often involves:
- Letting silence “speak”, i.e. a pause is not always a reason for me to speak. Sometimes, silence is the space where the speaker needs to process certain emotions, or decide whether to go deeper, or is searching for words.
- The art of reflection (not parroting). That’s when I reflect (like the surface of water) back what I heard to check for understanding, and to let the speaker know that I have in fact been listening.
- Adopting a relaxed and welcoming posture. Heck, throw in a smile! Just because heartful listening is serious business doesn’t mean you need to look all sombre and serious. A sprinkle of lightness goes a long way to soothe a troubled soul.
In the presence of heartful listening, a few things happen (to the speaker):
- People speak with their hearts, and that’s when their innermost voice feels safe to emerge.
- “Cups are emptied”, and thus make room for alternatives they were previously unwilling to let into their hearts.
- People gradually begin to listen to themselves, and this is the most precious gift of all.
By the way, all the above can be practiced by you, on yourself, as well 😊 It can also be practiced on someone you disagree with. Try it. It may not be as radical as you may think.
3. Ego-less Questions
In the context of a compassionate conversation, what does this even mean? Well, if rhetorical questions function to make a point in the form of a question, whilst a Socratic questions aim to expand thinking, and open-ended questions serve the purpose of co-discovering more, then ego-less questions may be understood as questions that the other person wishes to be asked so that they may speak their truth and thus be free from their suffering.
A question not asked, is a door not opened. Alternatively, you may also imagine a question as a beam of light in a pitch dark room that determines where attention goes. In that sense, your questions may either be leading the person towards the door, or deeper into the darkness, or round and round in circles. Remember, you can exit the darkness, but not the sufferer.
I was once asked how it was that I came to ask questions that bring forth tears and long-held secrets in friends, acquaintances, and strangers alike. Here’s my honest attempt to give form to what had largely been a “felt” experience. Ego-less questions is neither that which can be manufactured at will, nor commanded into existence. It is instead a combination of three qualities.
First is tenderful approach, which is my regard of every conversation as a pilgrimage of sorts, not in the hippie flower-power sense, or in the religious chanting sense, or in the transcendental spiritual sense. But with simple gratitude that another human being has chosen to spend time with me, and quiet excitement at the possibility of learning. This is regardless of whether it’s a ‘casual’ conversation with no agenda per se, or a conversation where I know that difficult / ‘suffering’ topics will be discussed.
This makes it easier to remind myself during the conversation to be humble (choose kindness over being right), curious (don’t assume that what I see is what I get, though be careful about being unnecessarily probing), and playful (there is always lightness amidst darkness, but there is a right time for it). I’ve learnt that these three attitude create a more inviting spaciousness for people to speak freely.
Second is heartful listening, because I want to be sure that I’m not hearing only what I wish to hear instead of what the speaker wishes to communicate. Third is artful reflection, because I want to be sure that I’m not mis-interpreting or mis-attributing.
Most importantly, the combined effect of tenderful approach, heartful listening and artful reflection is to leave Ego at the doorway, i.e. I aspire not to bring Ego into the conversation. For the sake of simplicity, because Ego as a topic is as vast as the universe (for an accessible starting point to learn more about the ego, check out Eckhart Tolle), Ego is that which privileges “I am …” above all other realities. Ego affords a sense of “identity” in the form of attachments to possessions, skills, qualifications, achievements etc. So naturally, Ego protects the “I am …” at all costs, because our identity is our sense of self. This however masks the fact that we’ve simply been persuaded to believe that our biographies are our identities.
On that basis, an Ego-ful question may be understood as a question that is more about me, i.e. to show how smart I am, how right I am, how caring I am, how lucky I am, how well-educated I am, how rich I am, and the list goes on.
So, if an Ego-less question is a negation of all the above, what does it sound like? For me, it begins with how it feels. I’ve always imagined a conversation as a landscape, and I am merely a visitor. It is a landscape that is a melding of both my world and the other person’s world, so there are certain features that seem familiar, but others which are completely foreign. And so I imagine heartful listening as an embodied surveying of the landscape, e.g. there’s something sparkling over there, let’s go take a look; wait, there’s a rustling in the bushes to my left, let’s check that out; wait, a dragon just flew past, let’s follow it; wait, there are people having a picnic over there, let’s join. In this landscape, I am playful, curious, ever so respectful, and without Ego.
When it comes time to ask a question, I stand still, in silence, because I see questions emerging from the earth - some hesitantly, some forcefully, some assuredly, some whimsically - and I don’t wish to disturb the emerging. Sometimes there are only a few questions, other times, plenty. But what I’m trying to spot is which question is resonating the strongest. Sometimes it’s the shiniest question, sometimes it’s the biggest question, sometimes it’s the most beautiful question, sometimes it’s the strangest question. My task is to spot the question with the strongest resonance, and unquestioningly offer it.
The point of this exercise is to make sure that the decision is made in Ego’s absence, because if Ego’s there, it may say “that’s a stupid question, no educated / polite / caring person would dare ask it” or “who do you think you are, you have no right to ask that question, it’s too sensitive” or “only a privileged entitled person like you would ask that question” etc. In other words, I’ve made the precondition of whether to ask a question about how well it makes me look, according to naturally (or ironically) my own estimation alone.
Is it always an earth shattering WOW question? I sincerely do not know. But more importantly, that’s not the point. If it was the point, I’ve once again made it about me. The less I care about it, the more likely that it is a question that the person’s been longing to be asked, so that they may speak their truth. In the absence of Ego, I am better able to sense which question among the many possibles, is the one that needs to be asked, to be of service to my conversation partner.
4. Artful Reflection
During a conversation when someone is sharing their suffering with you, and you are heartfully listening, how do you truly signal that you’re fully present to, and with, them?
Being fully present with another human being in their suffering is not the same as “I get it”, because I don’t believe anyone can truly “get” another person’s suffering. Though there may be similarities, suffering is fundamentally, an intimately private affair. Even assuming that you can walk in their shoes, it remains that both your feet are different. If you accept that premise, logically then “I understand …” becomes an improbability. For that reason, phrases I avoid: “I understand …”, “It must be …”, “I get it …”
Instead, the reflection sentence is comprised of 3 components.
Step 1: Tentative guessing
First, I begin with “sounds like …” or “seems like …” or “I can imagine …” in a tentative tone. Tentative in the sense of guessing, because I can only ever guess and it gives the speaker an opportunity to say “no, that’s not what I meant …” This correction is NOT about me getting it wrong, because I may have fully understood what was shared, but the speaker, in listening to my reflection may feel “yes, I did say that but in listening to your reflection, it’s not what I really think / feel …”
PS. Personally, I prefer not to use the word “I” in these conversations as a way to retain focus on the other person. However, if you find it difficult, then “I can imagine …” is probably a more honest expression than “I understand …” That being said, compassionate conversations are neither an exercise in semantics nor being “holier” than thou, i.e. if the other person wishes to hear from you that you “get it” and/or you’re finding it challenging not to express yourself in this way, then by all means.
It is the spirit, and not the letter, of the compassionate script that matters.
Step 2: Name the emotion
Second, I name the emotion I believe was displayed by the speaker, e.g. “Wow, seems like you were angry that …”, or “Yeah, I can imagine why you would feel sad that …” A critical point to note here is that I am naming an emotion, and not a false emotion, aka judgmental interpretation reflected in words such as betrayed or disappointed. Betrayal is an act that trigger the emotions of anger or fear. Disappointment is a judgment, and beneath that judgment may be the emotions of sadness or fear.
To name a fake emotion is to feed the suffering, whereas naming an emotion is to touch on a silent truth from which the journey of freedom may begin.
For the sake of analytical clarity, an emotion may be understood as a hormonal cocktail of various chemicals that is released into your bloodstream in response to an external stimulus. The physiological impact of that hormonal cocktail in your bloodstream may be increased heart rate, quickened breathing, pupils dilating, blood being redirected to your prefrontal cortex etc. Feeling is a word we attach to the bodily sentation to (abstractly) name the impact of the combined physical sensation.
For more on emotion, click here.
Step 3: Share observable facts
Third, I share a summary of observable facts, not an interpretation, e.g. “I can imagine that you feel sad that it was the third time you were not offered the promotion you applied for” or “Sounds like you’re angry that in spite of leaving all those messages, she has still not responded” or “Seems like Alex’s comments has left you feeling fearful about your job security”. In other words, an observable fact is one that anyone, when presented with the same set of ‘evidence’ will come to the same conclusion. Diving a bit deeper:
- Not being offered a promotion is a fact that can be verified because another person was promoted instead, whereas an interpretation would be “your company thinks you’re not ready”.
- Not responding to messages can be observed from messaging history, whereas an interpretation would be “… she’s ignoring you”.
- Alex’s comments is a fact if it may be verified by email history, whereas an interpretation would be “Alex’s criticisms …” because there may be some who will not interpret Alex’s words as criticism.
Your artful reflection is an opportunity for the speaker to listen deeply to themselves, both what was said and what was not said. It is categorically not about you getting anything right / wrong. Remember, this is not about you. And to finish? Silence.
5. Breath, Body, Being
Surprisingly, when a conference attendee asked how to begin the journey of compassion, I heard the word breath whispered. For a split second, the whisper unbalanced me with its resonance. What followed immediately was equally strange, for it was a cheeky certitude, akin to what I imagine would be the sense of elation a child who’ve just been shown where the treasure chest of candies are, may feel! Then I had a decision to make, i.e. stick with my prepared script, or follow the breath. The latter felt more fun 😊
Upon accepting the invitation to step into the privacy of another’s suffering, it’s wise to remind oneself that the terrain is always new. Yes, though there may be some sense of familiarity in a word, a phrase, a tone, a cadence, a glance, a silence … no landscape of suffering is ever exactly the same, even if it’s that of the same individual. Which is to say, no one really knows what to expect. Thus vigilance, humility, and being quick-witted are quite necessary skills, to keep safe both one’s self and that of the individual whom one is companioning, vis-a-vis managing unexpected emotions.
Contrary to popular belief, it is FOCUS, and not calmness that unlocks these skills.
Focus being the ability to sustain disciplined attention to attend to what matters, and to stay aligned to one’s compassionate orientation. It is the capacity for heightened present-moment sensory awareness (of self, others and environment); which makes possible precision and wholeness of observation; in turn increasing the chances of clarity of knowing. The gateway to all these good stuff is … the ability to master one’s breath.
Whilst it may be the mind that desires calmness, it is through the breadth that the body is calmed, which in turn gives the mind access to the brain’s prefrontal cortex where conscious decisions may be made to “override” habitual reactive behaviours .
I believe most of us wake up every morning, not with the explicit intention of making other people’s life miserable, but instead, we all wish to “just” be ourselves. Naturally, this raises the perennial question of a human be-ing’s fundamental nature. And precisely because many a narratives abound, it is beyond this brief sharing to delve into any one, in any sensible detail. So I will offer only the current scientific narrative that, comparable to fear, compassion is believed to be a hardwired motivational system. Translation? Compassion is encoded into our genes, i.e. “natural” and “instinctual”.
But it seems that it is quite easy for the compassionate instinct to be hijacked (e.g. by another motivational system such as fear). Because our actions will always be aligned with the dominant motivational system, in order to switch between the systems, the mind needs to be able to access the prefrontal cortex which is the region of the brain which “has been implicated in planning complex cognitive behavior, personality expression, decision making, and moderating social behaviour”.
This is where the breath of mindfulness (otherwise known as training in awareness and attention) plays a role wherein the body becomes an orientation device to bring into alignment intention, thoughts and actions (This 8min video by Dr. Hansaji Yogendra contains a simple explanation). And it seems the magic number is 5.5 belly breaths per minute.
In case some of you may be wondering “hang on, isn’t the way I’ve been breathing all these years natural?” Well, how most of us breathe today is a function of habituated posture, and not nature. For instructions in natural breathing, learn from a baby. Alternatively, check out James Nestor’s book <Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art>.
Returning thus to the ancient art of breathing makes possible as well, returning to our compassionate self.