A world deficient in yin has no idea how to
cultivate it. Often our attempts are laced with yang and
only contribute to more deficiency. This is common with martial artists who are
attracted only to the yang aspect of the craft. Anyone who is overdisciplined in any craft
will have a rigid mind. This rigid mind often has trouble flowing
in conversations and listening deeply to the other person without the yang habit of waiting
for their turn to speak (usually about oneself). You feel this distinct tension in this kind
of person, not so much in their posture but in their eyes and speech. There is a distinct stiffness in their words
that results from being too disciplined. This overuses the analytical mind; this mind
is stiff. Even the positivity of such people has a stench
of fakeness to it. For example, when an overdisciplined, rigid
mind speaks, the individual often displays an attitude implying that she is “cool”
with everything, even though the other person can sense that she is pretending. It is the analytical intellect assuming that
if we practice some form of spiritual cultivation, then we should be good and moral people who
are incapable of harming an ant. We should essentially be Goody Two-shoes. This is an incorrect perspective because,
again, we are dissecting the world into parts that are exclusively good and bad rather than
following the natural inclusivity of nature. We are often possessed with the idea of who
I should be rather than who I am. We overdiscipline ourselves to attain who
we should be, but this idea is based on social beliefs. To try and reach this destination is an endless
journey to nowhere, because it is driven by the yang of the external world. We cannot just be actively doing, doing, doing,
in the hope that we will become better people. In fact, we deplete our system with this attitude,
which in turn contributes to the destruction of the world. Cultivating yin requires us to refrain from
our yang tendency to always act and to overstimulate our organism. As with my chocolate milkshake, nature resides
predominantly in yin. Physically and psychologically we do as well,
because we are intrinsic expressions of nature. We need to learn how to truly relax—and
I don’t mean sitting in front of a digital device with popcorn, which in actual fact
is not resting your mind. Overdiscipline and overwork puts us at risk
of system failure, which presents itself as a host of mental health issues, stress, and
anxiety. As I’ve mentioned, being in the nondoing
wu-wei of yin actually preserves intellectual life. Essayist and cartoonist Tim Kreider explains
how this insight made him better at his job: "Idleness is not just a vacation, an indulgence
or a vice; it is as indispensable to the brain as vitamin D is to the body, and deprived
of it we suffer a mental affliction as disfiguring as rickets . . . it is, paradoxically, necessary
to getting any work done." Drastic times call for drastic measures, and
the best method for cultivating yin is drastic but essential for our well-being. It involves fasting the mind, which I explore
in depth in my book Fasting the Mind. Essentially it is a practice for starving
the mind of any stimulation, external or internal. Methods of fasting the mind are common in
the East. Two methods are found in Buddhism; they are
known as vipassana and open awareness meditation. Vipassana meditation means insight into one’s
true nature. One form of practice is a strict ten-day silent
retreat, which involves complete silence, many hours of sitting meditation, and a vegetarian
diet for the entire period. Vipassana meditation often advocates focusing
on the sensations within our psychosomatic organism, which takes our awareness deeper
and has the potential to purify the mind. Open awareness, on the other hand, is an objectless
meditation in which we engage with a simple, stable posture while trying to empty the mind
through focusing on the breath or by fixing the attention on something in the environment. Advaita Vedanta, a science, philosophy, and
spiritual practice originating in the Upanishads and the Vedas, offers a method of fasting
the mind whereby we remain in a practice of self-inquiry by focusing on the question “Who
am I?” All three methods have a positive effect on
mental concentration, reaction time, motor skills, and sensory sensitivity. Fasting the mind, though, involves more than
just these three methods. It is a lifestyle that transforms life from
yang-dominant to yin-dominant. This approach is nothing new. The phrase “fasting the mind” is first
found in the Chuang-tzu text, though its practice is much older. It appears in a story about how to change
a corrupt ruler. In the story Confucius is the mouthpiece of
Chuang-tzu. He has a disciple named Yen Hui. Yen Hui has heard of a ruler in the Chinese
state of Wei who is treating the common people very poorly. Hui has numerous plans to change the ruler,
but all of them are shot down by Confucius on the grounds that Yen Hui is intentionally
trying to change the ruler according to his own will. In the end Confucius has had enough and tells
Yen Hui that he should fast his mind: "Confucius said, “Goodness, how could that do? You have too many policies and plans and you
haven’t seen what is needed. You will probably get off without incurring
any blame, yes. But that will be as far as it goes. How do you think you can actually convert
him? You are still making the mind your teacher!” Yen Hui said, “I have nothing more to offer. May I ask the proper way?” “You must fast!” said Confucius. “I will tell you what that means. Do you think it is easy to do anything while
you have [a mind]? If you do, Bright Heaven will not sanction
you.” Yen Hui said, “My family is poor. I haven’t drunk wine or eaten any strong
foods for several months. So can I be considered as having fasted?” “That is the fasting one does before a sacrifice,
not the fasting of the mind.” “May I ask what the fasting of the mind
is?” Confucius said, “Make your will one! Don’t listen with your ears, listen with
your mind. No, don’t listen with your mind, but listen
with your spirit. Listening stops with the ears, the mind stops
with recognition, but spirit is empty and waits on all things. The Way gathers in emptiness alone. Emptiness is the fasting of the mind.” Yen Hui said, “Before I heard this, I was
certain that I was Hui. But now that I have heard it, there is no
more Hui. Can this be called emptiness?” “That’s all there is to it,” said Confucius. “Now I will tell you. You may go and play in his bird cage, but
never be moved by fame. If he listens, then sing; if not, keep still. Have no gate, no opening, but make oneness
your house and live with what cannot be avoided. Then you will be close to success.” Fasting the mind thus cultivates yin to bring
about lasting balance. It requires us to starve the mind of all external
and internal distractions. When we do so, we begin to affect the mind
and body at the deep level of the nervous system. There is essentially a war going on in our
nervous system from the overuse of yang “doing” at the expense of yin “nondoing.” The nervous system is the part of an animal’s
body that coordinates its voluntary and involuntary actions and also transmits signals to and
from different parts of its body. In vertebrate species, such as human beings,
the nervous system contains two parts, the central nervous system (CNS) and the peripheral
nervous system (PNS). The central nervous system contains the brain
and spinal cord, while the peripheral nervous system consists of mainly nerves, which are
enclosed bundles of long fibers, and axons, which are long, slender projections of nerve
cells that conduct electrical impulses away from the neuron’s cell body. These nerves and axons connect the CNS to
every other part of the body. The PNS is in turn divided into the somatic
nervous system (SoNS) and the autonomic nervous system (ANS). The ANS is our central focus when we are doing
psychological or spiritual inner work and transformation. It is a control system that largely acts unconsciously
and regulates bodily functions such as heart rate, respiratory rate, digestion, pupillary
response, urination, and sexual arousal. The ANS in its turn has two branches, the
sympathetic nervous system (SNS) and the parasympathetic nervous system (PSNS). The SNS is sometimes considered the “fight
or flight” system because in emergencies it is activated to mobilize energy. It is what we activate when we are in motion
and are being stimulated through our senses. Without it we could not do anything. The PSNS, on the other hand, is activated
when we are in a relaxed state. We activate it when we essentially do nothing. The PSNS is also responsible for stimulation
of “rest and digest” and “feed and breed” activities that occur when the body is at
rest, especially after eating, including sexual arousal, lacrimation (tears), salivation,
urination, digestion, and defecation. The PSNS is what makes us drift off to sleep
every night. It is stimulated most when we relax deeply. The war in our nervous system is essentially
the overstimulation of the SNS along with an understimulation of the PSNS. When we stimulate only the former without
activating the latter, we increase the probability of chemical imbalances in our brain. Cultivating yin activates the PSNS, leading
to equanimity. Fasting the mind, then, not only transforms
and heals the individual but also our culture. Cultivating the cool of yin in the mind and
body reduces the yang heat of our world piece by piece. It is not an overnight phenomenon, but rather
a gradual process. You realize how addicted you are to distraction,
and you understand that it will take time to heal it through fasting the mind. It is the same long and arduous process for
the collective. Cultivating yin and fasting the mind are both
essential for understanding the effortless mind of wu-wei, which is enlightened consciousness. Yin cultivation methods affect our nervous
system at the root level. In cultivating yin, we diminish the yang effects
of intellectual discernment, thinking, and active doing. Diminishing yang effects also weakens the
sense of “I” as a separate person.
