I’d like you to please read this blog post mindfully. Perhaps after taking a sip of tea or coffee mindfully, and then taking a slow breath in and out. Then, rest your hands mindfully in your lap, and start reading.
How did you take those opening statements: Did you think I was being serious, or sarcastic? I won’t blame you if you aren’t sure.
“Mindfulness” is one of the buzziest of buzzy words in our contemporary culture, and it shows up almost everywhere. If something is worth doing—anything at all—it is worth doing mindfully, apparently, where “mindful” has become a synonym for “calm” and “focused.”
Now, on one level, I suppose this is good advice: in our overscheduled, multi-tasking, shrinking attention-span world, who doesn’t need more mindfulness? But, at least in my view, there is a hidden danger lurking here as well. Let me explain.
The word itself always calls to mind the book, The Meaning of Mindfulness, by Thich Nhat Hahn, which I read long before I became a scholar of Buddhist-Christian dialogue, and long before I knew any more about Buddhism than what I had read in what I would characterize as “Buddhist-lite” literature. But, even without any real knowledge of depth of what Hahn was talking about, his words resonated with me—and they still do. Anyone who has devoured a bag of popcorn or M&Ms while watching tv on the couch without enjoying or even really tasting any of it knows how easily we can devalue and eviscerate experiences by not paying attention to them—and that is to say nothing of what we miss in interactions with others by our inattentiveness and distraction.
But, more recently, I have grown to be a little concerned about what seems to me to be a veritable explosion of “mindful” advice these past few years, which, to my mind, treats the term more like a self-help technique than an millennia-old Buddhist practice that is linked to an experience of awakening. [Or, in the specific case of Hahn’s book, a practice that supports what Hahn called “engaged Buddhism”—working for peace in extremely difficult circumstances, like the war in Vietnam.]
In its Buddhist context, mindfulness is not about being more efficient or creative at work, or being a better supervisor; it is not about having less anxiety or being more relaxed. Instead, mindfulness is a crucial practice for developing clear awareness of the true nature of one’s own ”self,” and at the same time, the true nature of existence. It is a practice that facilitates a greater awareness for the sake of all sentient beings; knowing one’s own mind promotes an understanding of the interdependence of all living things, and insight into the ultimate impermanence of life itself—and this profoundly affects how we act in the world and engage with each other.
Now, maybe you think this doesn’t really matter: “practicing mindfulness”—however loosely that is defined—clearly can be helpful, and has been helpful to many, many people who know nothing at all about Buddhism and are not at all interested in learning more. I hear that argument, I do, but I guess I just find it disrespectful and dismissive. In the larger conversations around diversity that so many of us are having in institutional settings now, we are emphasizing how important it is to pay attention to context as we learn more about traditions/cultures/religions that are different from our own. Flattening those distinctions or pretending they don’t exist is a means of cultural erasure that prevents us from fully appreciating someone else’s perspective and way of being in the world.
So, when Christians in particular engage in “mindfulness practices”—again, however well-intentioned—without any acknowledgment of or reflection on where those practices came from, it feels like a lost opportunity for interreligious dialogue at best, and casual appropriation that borders on exploitation at worst. The more Christians and Buddhists learn about each others’ distinct practices and beliefs, the more we can work together to promote harmony and justice, while simultaneously deepening friendships and honoring differences.
In our current political and climate, the world needs more appreciative awareness of and respect for “otherness,” including religious otherness. What if we started by being “mindful” of that?
Contributor: Kristin Johnston Largen is president of Wartburg Theological Seminary, and the current co-editor of Buddhist-Christian Studies. Her latest book is A Christian Exploration of Women’s Bodies and Rebirth in Shin Buddhism. You can reach her at klargen@wartburgseminary.edu.