zen

The middle way: hub, or hollow?

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Imagine a conversation about a trip to a museum between a person whose instrument of recall includes a detailed cinema projected onto the back of their eyeballs and a person with no access to visual formations at all.

Imagine a conversation about a favorite album between a person who hears symphonies in their inner ear and a person whose sound world is silent until they turn on a switch.

Imagine a conversation about an emotional interpersonal exchange, between a person with no internal monologue, whose descriptions of phenomena are all received and applied, and a person with a vast hum of crafted and iterated dialogue, just beneath the voice.

Imagine a conversation about a trip to the amusement park, between a person whose everyday experience includes frequent aggressive intrusions from textures, temperatures, and smells and a person whose sensory categories are hot, cold, pain, pleasure, and neutral.

We should imagine these conversations, because if we are having conversations, then it’s nearly certain that we are at times speaking across vast and varied sensory processing landscapes in such ways. When you live in a body, it’s easy to think that the world is the world, and everyone has the same sensory framework–our different takes on things are just due to our different vantage points and past experiences.

That is just not how it works, sweetie.

I have aphantasia–the inability to form internal visual images. If you ask me to visualize an apple, try as I might, eyes open or closed, I have no visual memories to draw from. That being said, I can describe an apple. There is an archetypal apple stored in my body, bringing together the feeling of roundness, the temperature of red, the mass of things that weigh a little less than a pound. I just don’t ‘see’ it.

My visual processing of text is probably due to aphantasia. I experience text as simply a texture on the page until I ‘zoom in’ with my attention. I can only read at the speed at which I could read aloud, as I experience the parsing through my audio and speech mechanisms. I’m not actually moving my lips or throat, but there is a ‘feeling’ that there is activity going on in my speech processing area just beneath the realm of sound production. If I recall something I’ve read, I am actually recalling the conversation I had with the page.

I was talking with someone recently about how we process communication on social media platforms. They were describing how they get overwhelmed very quickly because they feel bombarded by all of the information. I realized that, because I have to zoom in and slow down to parse the text, I stay in the texture realm until I make a judgement that something is worth the high-energy-consumption activity of reading. I’m not so troubled by ads, because they are visually obvious most of the time and I just scroll past them in blur mode. I probably miss a lot this way, but maybe that’s a good thing.

So, while some would call aphantasia a ‘sensory processing deficit,’ it’s also a superpower in certain contexts.

This should not be controversial.

We know through an artist like Stevie Wonder, who is blind, that blindness gives him access to a whole other level of sensory awareness that most sighted people don’t have access to (remember him catching the mic stand?).

Another characteristic of the aphantasiac (cue Flashdance music) is that we tend to be verbose and we rely on our semantic and conceptual memory. So it’s the conversations that are happening in my mental processing that result in my working things out and expressing them through complex symbolic language–i.e. I express myself through metaphoric and logical language constructions, which in some contexts is a highly valued skill, and it’s ‘because’ of a supposed deficit in my visual processing. Say that five times fast.

Aphantasia, or other sensory blindnesses, are only deficits in the context of comparison to a standard model of competence or awareness–the standard model human is expected to have equal sensory aptitude in all of the recognized senses within a certain median range. Anything else is called a deficit. Even though the blindness aspect of processing often results in an increased awareness of non-visual sensory stimuli, our language and cognitive culture will dwell on the deficit.

Disclaimer: I’m going to do a lot of editorializing. This essay is a personal reflection, and so being is only a description of my experience of my senses, and my experience of the differences in expression that I notice when having conversations. If you recognize yourself, and feel yourself represented here in a negative light, don’t let it offend you–widen your view.

So, if you’re still with me, I’m going to introduce the idea (actually the phenomenon, because if you’ve experienced it, it’s not just an idea–it’s the law) of neurotypical bias. And, because I’m going through a period of heightened awareness of this, due to my recent diagnosis, I’m going to hold it up as a bugaboo which is at the root of all of society’s problems. I will only be half kidding. Because yeah guys, this is a problem. But it’s a problem that we all can counter with our powers of self-awareness. It’s one of the few of society’s power dynamics that we can actually change by changing our own perspective. And that is powerful.

Ok, lots of chauvinism and stereotyping to come, so hold on.

Our culture positions neurotypical traits as ‘typical’, and deviations from those traits as ‘divergent,’ or statistical anomalies. In my experience, the person or institutional culture that characterizes the neurotypical processing style is more prone to see the deficits in another’s processing style than the advantages that arise from that deficit. It’s not a balanced view. But it is very prevalent, and influences systems of power in various social spaces.

It’s the kind of view that identifies with the better expressions of their own nature while pointing out the negative aspects of those they consider different or ‘other,’ and at the same time claiming the positive aspects of wider cultural expression as their own.

Let’s go back to my own experience. Given that my neurotype is prone to loquacious constructions that draw from logical and conceptual memory processing, my questions and expressions have a certain character. I’m drawing from the information that is made available to me by my wiring and chemistry. Here are a few responses that I am very familiar with:

  • You’re overthinking it
  • That’s very creative (with a certain condescending tone)
  • I don’t understand where you’re coming from. You’re obviously confused
  • Hmm (silence)

Yet, from my experience, I can have a similar conversation with a person who is sympathetic to my neurotype, and who maybe has an overlapping set of experiences, and they will give very different responses:

  • I’ve been trying to think of how to articulate that, and you hit it on the head
  • You’ve given me a lot to think about (with no condescending tone)
  • Dude! Right?
  • Let’s come back to this

Here’s the thing: It’s usually the neurotypical response described above that is given by a person in a position of power or authority, relative to mine (in my experience). The second set of responses are more characteristic of people who I would consider peers, or people who actually want to move the conversation forward, rather than codify it.

Here’s my loquacious logical conceptual projection onto the situation. In some way, the neurotypical sensory apparatus, or psyche, recognizes that it is in a kind of middle ground. It recognizes the overlap with others who may be deficient in some ways, yet super-proficient in others. In the giant Venn diagram of sensory awareness, it recognizes its place in the middle. No problem here, as this is just the way of all phenomena.

For whatever reason–cultural power dynamics, human cognitive bias, economic security–from this center of the Venn diagram, the people and organizations of people who inhabit this sensory space, tend to think that their way, their view, their socio-cultural position, is the right one, and that somehow, a healthy culture is one that reflects exactly its perspective, values, and solutions. In terms of power dynamics, (and I’m describing socio-cultural power, economic power, intellectual power), rather than functioning as a facilitator or hub, a space of connection and intersection, the representative individuals and social organizational units that inhabit this space tend to demand conformity from those that surround them.

And yes, this is a big problem. This intersectional space that could potentially have our backs and bring us together is instead demanding fealty and tribute. Think of a series of overlapping circles. There are forces that are working to include the wider circles. And there are forces that are working to narrow to exclude to wider circles. Neurotypical bias works like this. In demanding conformity, it excludes a big range of color on the spectrum, where it could be operating in a space of great creativity and accommodation, being at the center of the circle regardless of how wide it grows.

So, neurotypical bias is the kind of view that forces those in ‘divergent’ intersectional spaces to conform to their views and values, rather than widening the narrative–recognizing the privilege of their position and acting to amplify those who intersect with them, making the space bigger for everyone. Do you follow? Have you ever experienced being on either side of this narrative in a workplace? In your home? In some other social space?

Just use my own example of how my perceived deficits result in a certain way of contextualizing the world. Using this idea of ‘people who process visual memory differently tend to express their experience loquaciously through logical and conceptual constructions, rather than literal ones.’ Who might be observed to fall into this category? Shakespeare? Dogen? Whitman? (dare I say it, Jesus?, for you listening in the back). I’m not trying to elevate myself to this realm of cultural relevance, but am just making a straightforward connection, vis-a-vis sensory processing.

If you’ve ever heard a phrase like “if Jesus were alive today, you would reject him,” that rejection would likely be because of neurotypical bias.

And as I listen carefully in the spaces I move through, I so often hear examples of when a wide worldview is condensed and reduced by someone inhabiting that center space, and then that reduction is sold back as reality to a person who actually understands the wider original. Which leads to another thing I notice – that people whose perceptions exist outside of that statistical center space tend to be more open and accommodating (perhaps because they understand the difficulty in changing some people’s minds), while those in the middle tend to be more rigid and attached to their view.

So chew on and consider this, as you try to make sense of the sensory world, and consider how your sense of your senses intersects with the sensory expressions of those you are in conversation with. Consider whether our sensory gaps represent a division, or a widening of, your shared expereience. Are you advocating for a conception you hold that, being the only one you are aware of, makes good sense? If so, you are likely protecting a neurotypical bias. Are you trying to share a part of your experience that is complex and nuanced, using the words that come to mind, knowing that you are doing reality an injustice, but doing your best anyway? You might be widening the world.

And what if we take this even further – that, rather than the typical/divergent binary construction, each of our perspectives could be represented as coordinates in a vast 3-dimensional network, and that, being connected, we actually need one another, depend on one another, nourish one another.

Treading the middle way, don’t be attached to the middle way. Understanding neurotypical bias, widen the narrative, rather than demanding conformity.

Showing Up

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We hear this phrase a lot: just show up. It seems to make a lot of sense. If everyone shows up, we have a party. Hurray. If no one shows up, no party. Boo. In the West we’ve grown up to think of ourselves as unique, individual beings that are also somewhat interchangeable. We all have all of the qualities, and it’s a matter of developing those qualities equally. A good community will simply be a collective of balanced individuals who each have worked hard to bring forth all of the qualities.

We will all show up equally for each event. We do everything together! We sit zazen together! We demonstrate together! We feed the hungry together! We clean the temple together! In this model, it’s easy to see what people need to work on, and who’s doing the work.

Someone with a crooked posture should give their attention to sitting up straight. Someone who naturally sits up straight should focus more on kind action. If we show up, and work together in this way, it seems like eventually everyone’s qualities will balance out and we’ll have a strong community. And if someone is not showing up, they’re obviously not doing the work, right?

But what if this model is kind of backwards?

Story time!

Let’s look at three different teachers’ ways of asking students to show up. Their different approaches to working with students might inspire us look deeper into the methods of our own teachers, and think about our own practice in a new light.

First, let’s get to know these two students a little better.

The student with crooked posture has the aspiration to have a straight posture, and yet they were born in a body that is naturally crooked. Their insecurity about their crooked body has nurtured a natural instinct to be kind, and they don’t have to work hard to spread the seeds of kindness in the world. They accept the kindness the world offers them, and focus on the struggle in their body.

The student with the naturally straight posture does not struggle physically on the cushion. Their mind, however, is highly attuned to moral conceptions regarding right and wrong in the world. Their foundational experience is the body at rest, and their aspiration is to right the wrongs of the world through engaged action. Because of the anger and dissatisfaction in their mind, their actions often spread the seeds of conflict.

Let’s observe how three different teachers work with these two students, and how they encourage them to show up. We don’t have to say whether this teacher is good or that teacher is bad, because we will observe their actions, and make our own choice.

Disclaimer: (trust me, some will need to hear this stated explicitly. You know who you are. And if not, you should!). These vignettes are based on archetypes: they do not represent real students or teachers, and students and teachers will not been seen as fitting into to any of these archetypal roles completely. And the directions suggested here are not prescriptive, just as koans are not life instructions. They are simply useful characterizations with which to describe and observe certain aspects of practice.

The first teacher encourages their students’ aspirations through their deep respect for form.

Meeting the crooked student, they encourage their aspiration to be straight. They encourage the student to show up by sitting zazen diligently, and learning from their pursuit of their aspiration. Since their self-conscious instinct is that they need to straighten up, and the teacher is confirming that instinct, they work hard, and you can always see them showing up. The student struggles for years and years, and seems like a diligent student, and yet, no matter how long they practice to be straight, for them, crooked is straight.

Since the student is spending so much time showing up on the cushion, they are not out intersecting with the world in the kind ways that naturally flow from their heart.

One day, they force their body into a straight posture. In doing so, the naturally crooked student has worked their way into an unsustainable situation, that takes all of their energy to maintain, and they have no energy left over to share their natural gifts of kind action with the community. The teacher, from their perspective of deep understanding of form, commends them for their diligent practice, not recognizing the sacrifice they have made. They have attained the form of practice, yet in doing so had to abandon their true nature. Using all of their effort to maintain the form, and having been affirmed by their teacher for doing so, they lose sight of their natural gifts of kind action.

The same teacher recognizes the aspiration of the student with straight posture to kind action, and encourages them to show up by devoting themselves to engaged practice, involving themselves in all manner of interactions to create peace in the world. The student has already attained good posture, so the teacher instructs them in the eightfold path and answers all of their questions about right action and right intention. Yet, because the student’s mind is confused, they continue to spread the seeds of conflict through their attempts at right action.

In showing up for the world, and the forms of engaged practice, they experience conflicts. Focused fully on their intention, they don’t recognize when those conflicts are caused by their own actions. Not having a way to restore balance, and not recognizing that they are moving away from their natural center, the student’s physical practice suffers, eroding their natural straightness, and robbing them of the energy to practice in the world.

The second teacher encourages each student to consider the nature of emptiness. They see each student equally, and advise each with the same encouragement. They understand that the forms are just forms to create space to focus on emptiness.

This teacher gives the same advice to both students: “The way is vast. Understand yourself, and you will understand the way. ” Each time the students question the teacher, they are given this same admonition.

The first student, taking for granted their tendency to be kind, instead engages their self-conscious instinct–they focus on their aspiration to be straight. In showing up faithfully for zazen, the student abandons interactions which engage their kind instincts, (which result in spreading the seeds of kindness in the world), in favor of their aspiration, which results in diligent practice directed toward straightness.

The second student, taking for granted their tendency to be straight, instead indulges their self-conscious instinct–they focus on their aspiration to change the world for the better, and show up by engaging in good works. The student ignores their straight posture and instead focuses on action to make things better, and in doing so, they spread the seeds of their anger in the world.

The third teacher has a different relationship with form and emptiness. They see from where the student’s aspirations arise, and understand how those aspirations hide their gifts. They understand that the two students will better understand their own nature if they co-practice and observe one another mindfully, rather than just sharing the space. Each student’s natural inclinations will show something to the other, and they will slowly change one another over time.

The teacher understands that the crooked student will never be straight, and that they will, without much prompting, put just enough effort into being straight if they observe the straight student during zazen. The crooked student, whose actions in the world already spread the seeds of peace, knows naturally how to avoid harmful action. They are encouraged to keep showing up in the world, and to just come and sit zazen when they can. In observing the straight student’s posture, they are encouraged to be straight enough. Through their strong empathy, they will recognize the anger in the straight student’s mind and will consider ways to help them soften.

On the other hand, the straight student is encouraged to show up by devoting much time to the cushion, where they naturally inspire others, and spend less time sowing the seeds of conflict through their actions. The teacher encourages the straight student to tread lightly in the world, and observe the ways of the crooked student, whose kind choices are not ones that arise naturally in the straight student’s mind.

Over years of practice together, the straight student, with their strong discernment, learns to recognize kind action through observation, and because their posture is already straight, their time on the cushion is able to be well spent considering kindness, and their anger becomes transformed. They learn to have more respect for a student who, though appearing crooked, has cleared the mind.

The crooked student, having watched and considered the confusion and anger of the straight student, has learned to convey empathy in ways that the straight student can understand. Having a straight partner, they straighten just enough, without making it the focus of their aspirations.

End of story time!

How did that story land? Do we recognize anything about the role our aspirations have played in our practice? What do we observe about our practice spaces, our fellow students, our teachers? Do the ways students are being asked to show up reflect an understanding of their character? Are students being lectured about what kind action looks like, or are they being encouraged to observe it in others?

Sit, observe, study, and learn!