Learning to Live in the Gap

Can you remember a time when you paused before reacting? What became possible in that moment?

Seeing into the Gap between Feeling and Craving, like a wise owl.

I decided not to hold back on Buddhist teachings in this blog. Some of you may love this, others may be uncertain. Give it a go, engage with an open heart and mind. Any questions please drop me a line.

One of the things I find most powerful about mindfulness practice is that it can begin to reveal a tiny space between what happens to us and what we do with what happens.

It is a small space. Sometimes barely noticeable.

And that space can change everything.

And nature has something to teach us here too.

Spend time watching a tree through the seasons and there is no sense that it is trying to hold on to what has already passed. Spring becomes summer. Leaves emerge, flourish and eventually fall. 

Nature is constantly responding to change.

It doesn't mean that everything is easy or harmonious. There are storms, droughts, disease, competition and decay. However there is a constant movement between what is happening and what happens next.

The Satipaṭṭhāna Sutta, describes four foundations of mindfulness: body, feelings, mind and dhammas. The Buddha’s teaching here is described as a path that can “take you all the way” a complete framework for waking up to the nature of our experience.

The first foundation is the body.

We are invited to pay attention to the body in different ways: the breath, the four postures of walking, standing, sitting and lying down, our everyday activities, the anatomical parts of the body, the elements that make up the body, and eventually the body’s inevitable decay.

At first this might sound rather removed from our modern understanding of mindfulness! However there is something beautifully practical about it.

The body is always here.

It is happening now- we can feel the breath, feet touching the ground, the sound of the wind.

The mind can spend hours travelling backwards into the past or projecting itself forwards into the future, but the body is always an immediate doorway into present-moment experience.

And nature can offer another doorway into this same awareness.

Stand beneath a tree and really pay attention. Notice the temperature of the air against your skin. The movement of the branches. The changing light. The smell of damp earth. The sensation of your feet on the ground.

Sensations arise and pass away. The breath changes. Energy changes. Pain changes. Pleasure changes. The body itself is constantly changing.

This brings us to one of the most interesting places in Buddhist practice: the relationship between feeling and craving.

In the Buddhist teaching of conditionality (click for a brilliant explanation and video)- Vedanā or feeling tone is followed by Taṇhā, craving.

Feeling means the basic quality of an experience as pleasant, unpleasant or neutral.

Something feels good.

Something feels bad.

Something feels neither particularly good nor bad.

And then, often incredibly quickly, the mind responds.

“I want more of this.”

“I don’t want this.”

“I need this to change.”

This is where craving, aversion and our conditioned patterns can begin to take over.

Nature gives us a very simple illustration.

Imagine walking through a woodland on a beautiful autumn morning.

The light is golden. The air is crisp. The leaves are changing colour.

We experience something as pleasant.

And then perhaps the mind says: “I wish it could stay like this.”

There it is.

A perfectly natural appreciation has become grasping.

Or imagine walking outside and finding that it is raining.

“Oh, for goodness' sake. I hate this weather.”

The rain is simply rain.

The unpleasantness comes partly from our relationship with it.

Can we stay in the gap?

This is one of the invitations of practice that I return to again and again.

Can I experience something as pleasant without needing to possess it?

Can I experience something as unpleasant without needing to escape it?

Can I experience something neutral without becoming bored or distracted?

We encounter something.

We react.

Our reaction strengthens a habit.

The habit shapes how we see the next experience.

And the cycle continues.

Modern psychology might describe some of this in terms of conditioning, habit loops and automatic responses. Buddhist practice has been investigating this territory for thousands of years. We may find ourselves returning again and again to the same reactions — anger, anxiety, self-criticism, avoidance, overworking, people-pleasing.

Mindfulness gives us an opportunity to interrupt the loop by seeing more clearly what is actually happening.

Of course, this is much easier to talk about than to practise.

For some people, turning towards the body can itself be difficult.

Pain, trauma, anxiety or dissociation can make bodily awareness feel overwhelming or unsafe. Sometimes what we encounter when we turn inward isn't peacefulness but a whole landscape of sensations, memories, beliefs and stories. We may encounter likes and dislikes, comparison, shame or fear.

This is why mindfulness needs kindness.

The invitation isn't to force ourselves into the present moment or to stare relentlessly at whatever hurts.

Perhaps this is what mindfulness ultimately offers us: not freedom from experiences, but increasing freedom in relationship to our experiences. 

Reflection: noticing the gap

• Can you think of a time when something happened and you reacted almost automatically? 

• What do you notice in your body when something is unpleasant before your mind starts telling you what it means?

• What could nature teach you? Is there a season, plant, tree, weather pattern or natural process that offers you another way of seeing?

• What would it feel like to respond to yourself with a little more kindness in that moment?

The next time you notice yourself reacting, pause. Feel your feet. Notice your breath. Look around you. And ask: What is actually happening right now before I decide what it means?