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Agency - Gil Fronsdal

The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on December 08, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Agency

I would like to offer some reflections on the topic of agency. This is a topic I am thinking about for another program: agency in a spiritual life, and particularly for a Dharma life. How do these come together?

One reason for this topic is that sometimes, in doing Buddhist meditation practice, people don't feel they have the ability to do it. In that sense, they feel they have no agency. Sometimes they do feel they have the ability—they can sit down to meditate, go on retreats, or spend time reading spiritual books—and it is a very meaningful part of their life.

To introduce this topic further, there is a very important teaching in Insight work, in Buddhist mindfulness practice: whatever experience you are directly having in the present moment—whatever you are feeling, sensing, or experiencing—can be distinguished as having three "feeling tones" or vedanā¹. It can be pleasant, unpleasant, or neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

Some people find it phenomenally fascinating and helpful just to recognize that this is the case. A situation can be amazingly complex, like a social drama you are involved in at a holiday party. There is a lot going on, social dynamics are ancient and difficult, and it feels overwhelming. But in the middle of that, the Buddha said there is a feeling tone to experience. What is the feeling tone of this holiday event? It is unpleasant.

Suddenly, the whole complexity of the situation has been simplified enough that you can say, "Oh, I know how to be with things that are unpleasant. I'll breathe. I'll slow down. I'll be mindful of the unpleasantness and find my stability and grounding again."

It is a way of finding yourself stable again, or finding a context for how to be, just by seeing, "This is part of it." If I don't see it is unpleasant, I might be reacting to it. Sometimes our inner life is reacting to our experience of the event, rather than to all the specific things we have opinions about in the room. It is just unpleasant for us. That is what we don't like. As soon as you say, "It's unpleasant," it changes the orientation of how we understand and see it. It might be much easier to then engage wisely in the event.

The Inner and Outer Operating Systems

Dividing things into these three feeling tones can be very helpful. But in this mindfulness tradition, there is a second distinction made within the category of feeling tones. There are two general areas of feeling tones we can have: one is in relationship to the outer world, and the other is to the inner world.

This is my own language; it doesn't quite work out in all ordinary ways of saying "inner" and "outer." The outer is certainly the feeling tone of being delighted that I won the lottery, delighted that it is sunny outside, or happy that I was praised. We think, "Wow, that was pretty good. I like that." That feels pleasant. Then we get criticized, and that is unpleasant. That affects us and changes our mood quite quickly. Things happen in the outer world that we take in, and they register in ways that are pleasant, unpleasant, or neither.

Then there is the inner world. These are things that can bubble up from the inside that really, in and of themselves, have nothing to do with the outside world. This is where the sharp line doesn't quite work out. If your inner world is waiting for the lottery to be run, and you are sure you are going to win—you are already planning your vacations and your mansions—and you are just so delighted and happy, in an ordinary sense that is coming from the inside (your thoughts and ideas). However, it still belongs to the operating system that is oriented to the world around us.

We have a different operating system within that is really deep inside. I like to call it the "Dharmic operating system." Someone else might call it a spiritual operating system, the heart, the soul, or the inner spirit. There are all these languages for something inside that belongs to a different operating system than our desires and aversions regarding what is happening in the world—what we can get or not get from it.

This can exist independently of what is happening in the world. You go to that holiday party that is so complicated and unpleasant on the surface level, but you had a really good meditation before you went. You have never been so centered, equanimous, and calm. You feel happy, like you are inside a car going through a car wash. You look at the party and think, "Wow, look at all this craziness here," but you feel like you aren't getting wet. It is not touching you because you have this deeper wellspring, another source you are living in.

Then, maybe at this holiday party, they serve a lot of really good cheesecake and coffee. You have a lot of it, and pretty soon that deeper spiritual operating system is no longer operating. It has been taken over by a whole other way of being that is completely interacting with or buffeted around by what is happening at the party. You can lose it.

But there is a deeper operating system—the Dharmic operating system—and that can feel very wholesome. It can feel integral to who we really want to be. It can feel like we are really centered on ourselves in a deep, peaceful way. It is a place of inner peace, inner well-being, inner authenticity, and inner wholeness.

When the Buddha talked about this inner Dharmic operating system, he noted that it too can be pleasant, unpleasant, or neither. How does that work? It can be pleasant if we are really experiencing the wholesomeness, goodness, joy, and happiness of that inner Dharmic operating system flowing through us. It can be unpleasant when it is not flowing, and we don't have the agency to do the practice.

Practice and Daily Life

This inner operating system is practice-dependent initially, as we are finding our way with it. It might be that the only way a person has access to it is to meditate. Or maybe they can tap into it by going for a long hike in a nature preserve and being quiet for a while. They feel like they touch into something, but somehow their life doesn't allow them to maintain it.

Maybe they have young kids at home. I found it hard to meditate when my kids were babies. Luckily, I had to meditate for work, so that was helpful. Or maybe you are caring for a family member or parent who is sick and elderly. I had my mother live with us for a while when she had dementia. That took a lot of time and effort, and there wasn't much time for other things. There are responsibilities of work and all kinds of things. These worldly responsibilities might keep us from touching into something that is valuable for us.

So there is a sense of lack; there is something unpleasant there in this deeper operating system. In its most extreme versions, they call it the "Dark Night of the Soul." I had a short period like that. When I was young, at a certain point, it became really important to be able to go on a long meditation retreat. I had come to a dead end in my life; all the different ways I had gone weren't working, and that was the only way forward I knew. The ability to do that was being frustrated. Something inside of me really felt, "I can't follow through on what's most important for me." In a sense, I had no agency to do what was most important because the circumstances around me got in the way.

This inner operating system can be inspiring, and it can be discouraging or depressing if we can't have access to it. At some point, after people have been introduced to Buddhist practice, there can be an inner call to do more of it. In Buddhism, we call it an "onward leading" feeling. There is a pull or a slide I am on, and I just want to take that slide and keep going. Doors are opening up, and I want to keep doing it. There is an inspiration, a flow that wants to happen.

Usually, all we know how to do is meditate. At some point, a wonderful moment in meditation happens when you feel that inner operating system say, "I really want to do this." There is an inner momentum. It shifts from "I should meditate" or "I'm supposed to meditate" to "I want to meditate."

I know I am supposed to vacuum the living room rug, but I want to meditate. It is like when you have to go pee; at some point, it just has to happen. At some point, there is going to be that feeling: "Now I have to meditate. This is what should happen. This is the most meaningful thing I can do."

Fear and Agency

People can have a feeling that they want to go on retreat. I had that when I was young. I had been meditating daily for about a year, and I decided I wanted to go on a retreat. There was a call; something about meditation felt good and right. It felt good to follow through and see what a week of meditation would do to allow this nice opening to have a fuller chance.

I signed up for a week-long retreat. Then, about a couple of weeks before the retreat started, I called the retreat center and said, "Something has come up and I can't go." They said, "Okay, we'll just take you off." That was easy.

I thought what had "come up" was fear. The thing that was interfering with my desire, my inner impulse to follow through, was myself. It wasn't responsibilities out in the world; it was that I was afraid. Sometimes what interferes with our agency is not responsibilities and circumstances around us, but what is inside of us. We might be afraid of what is going to happen to us, afraid it is going to change our life too much, or afraid of what we are going to have to face if we slow down and really look at ourselves.

So, I chickened out of my first retreat. My karma for that is that now I have to be a Dharma teacher. [Laughter]

About a year later, I ended up going on a week-long retreat. I thought it was really great, life-changing. But by the time it was over, I thought, "That was great, but I'm not doing this again for a while." It required so much energy or intensity. But gradually, over the next six months, the call came again. Something inside me said, "Okay, now I'm ready. I want to do this again."

When I finished that week, it was good, but again: "No more. Not for a while." I continued my daily meditation practice, and about six months later the call came again. Luckily for me, at that point, I didn't have the inner inhibition; I didn't have the fear anymore. I was able to follow through.

At some point, following through meant going further into Buddhism. I went to live at a Zen center, I went to live at an Ajahn² monastery, and then as I went along, this inner call of the spiritual operating system became the primary organizing principle for how to live my life. It took me to Asia to become a monk in Burma, and eventually brought me here to do what I am doing now.

Cultivating the Wholesome

It is easy for people to hear my story—my ability as a young person to keep answering that call, go to a retreat, live at a center, go to a monastery, go to Asia—and think, "Some people can't do that. It's inconceivable." Maybe you are no longer young, and that is not available to you.

Luckily, it is not necessary to do that for this practice. The primary orientation that the Buddha gave for finding your way with this Dharmic operating system—to find the pleasure, delight, and satisfaction of it, where we can find our agency—is in being able to recognize what is wholesome and what is unwholesome.

"Wholesome" here means that which really speaks to, awakens, or nourishes this inner operating system: the inner goodness, the sense of wholeness, integrity, peace, spirit, or soul. It is something deeper, not dependent on what is happening in the world—not dependent on the lottery, praise, criticism, or living at an endless holiday party. You can find your peace in whatever difficult situation you have. It is difficult to do; it takes time, effort, and practice. But it is possible to find the wholesome within you even if the world outside of you is mostly unwholesome.

The Buddha said, essentially: "You can practice the wholesome. If I didn't think you could do it, I wouldn't tell you to. You can avoid the unwholesome. If I didn't think you could do it, I wouldn't tell you to avoid it."³

All of what he has to teach is reduced to that statement: that he believes we have agency. He believes that we have the capacity to act and do what we need to do for this purpose. Maybe not go off to Asia to be a monastic, maybe not do long retreats, maybe you can't even meditate because of your circumstances—but even so, you can do the wholesome. You can avoid the unwholesome.

Once you start getting the hang of it—some sense that there is an inner life, a life of the heart—you can find it. In some Buddhist circles, they wouldn't refer to the heart as the locus for this; they would say it was in the belly. That is even deeper in us than what we call the heart in modern English.

This deep source within... how do we find it? The sense of agency, that it is up to us, is encapsulated in a very powerful verse in the Dhammapada: "The Buddhas merely point the way; it is up to you to walk it."⁴ The Buddha just explains what you can do, but he can't do it for you. Someone can tell you where the bathroom is, but only you can go find it.

The Buddha believes we have agency. He believes there is a reference point within us that we can follow. It is not about reading books or listening to Dharma talks (though a little bit is okay). In some ways, it is not even about what you do—which is a little odd since that is the topic of the talk—but really, it is about what you do with this inner life.

Meeting Difficulty with Agency

Do you pause enough? Do you pay attention enough to notice the quality of your inner life? What are the characteristics? What does it feel like inside? Or are you too distracted to notice?

You would say, "Well, I'm mostly just agitated and spinning in my thoughts." Yes, that might be true. If you identify that as the center of your life, you get one answer. But if you can go underneath those spinning thoughts, the churning fantasies, ideas, judgments, and commentary, and really drop down deep—what do you find there?

What we find there is not always good. What we find there is not always pleasant. It is not always easy to be there because it can be very uncomfortable. But that is where we can start finding what is wholesome. "Now that I feel how I am, the quality of my inner life, how can I meet that in a wholesome way? How can I relate to it? How can I be my own friend? How can I have compassion for that?"

That is beginning to act, to engage in the wholesome life. You have to have some agency. When you touch into the difficulty within, you have to call on agency—call on your ability to offer something to it that is wholesome, healthy, good, compassionate, and caring. As you do that, then that is also awakening this new, deeper operating system.

If you are home caring for people and cannot even meditate, perhaps you can breathe. Breathe with what you are doing. When you are changing diapers at 3:00 AM, breathe. Harmonize your activity with the breathing and see if the breathing can help you tap into something deeper going on here. The breathing can give you a little pause. As you are taking care of a parent who has dementia, can you find some way to find stability, some kind of spirituality in what you are doing as you do it? You don't have to go to Asia. You can do it in your ordinary life.

Sooner or later, that is what I had to do. One of the things that happened for me was that I didn't really start learning how to bring it into my daily life until I had children. It was a whole different thing. I had done all this monastic life, but the challenges of that life were so different. Now I had to do it here.

But you don't have to wait. If your life doesn't allow you to meditate, you can still practice. You can still find your way. But it requires you to have agency. It requires you to make a choice to act in a certain way, to call upon what is wholesome, to recognize what is good in you and try the best you can to live with it.

You will probably fail a lot. But failing is not bad. Failing is how we grow. It is like a child learning to walk. The kid falls so many times. The parents don't go, "Oh my God, my kid's a failure. He doesn't know how to walk. This is the end. I'll give up on this kid." No, you say, "Great!" You have to fail a lot of times to finally learn how to walk. You have to keep falling.

Spiritual life is that way too. You start again, start again, start again. We have agency, and the question is to use it—to use it to let this deeper operating system begin having a chance to operate in your life.

As this inner operating system begins to become stronger for you, beautiful moments will happen where you feel the onward nature of it. You feel that it has your back. You feel that it wants to grow in you. There is something here that is really here to serve you, that is not the usual self that you identify with. There is something marvelous within you that is not yourself, that is here to support you, be with you, and help you find your way onward.

People who have no agency feel like they have no capacity to do anything to grow, be safe, or take care of their family. It is a really hard thing. Being able to have the freedom to do things and feel like you can make a difference is crucial to a healthy human life. When we come into this practice, that agency is applied to this inner spiritual operating system. We want to bring it forth, use it as a reference point, and let it have a chance to grow and be the source of how we live our life.

We start over again, over and over again, every time we fail. But we have to start. If you don't exercise your agency, it won't happen.

I'll end with a little saying I do that maybe irritates some people, so a little bit of theater goes into saying this:

Mindfulness does not work unless you do. [Laughter]

Q&A

Question: I loved your example about the child learning to walk. I noticed in your description of your retreat desire that you didn't use the word "desire" or "wanting" or taṇhā (thirst). Yet I could imagine somebody with hedonic addictions having that same sort of feeling tone that would be underneath that desire. Can you talk about the difference between those two—healthy desire and not healthy desire?

Gil: If I say, "Yes, I really want to go on a retreat because I've noticed that the people who get a lot of praise in spiritual circles are the ones who go on retreats, and I'm going to build up a resume of all the retreats I've done with all the great teachers. If I can have that resume, I'll be a hotshot, and everyone will bow to me"—that is a lot of taṇhā⁵. That is a desire which can bring a sense of delight in the imagination of it, but it is going to be a dead end.

If I really pay attention, I will feel the stress of that. I will feel the pressure, the unsatisfactory nature of that desire. I will feel how easy it is to be pulled around by the nose. In a certain way, it is a loss of agency. I think I am acting on my free will, but it is not exactly free will when these addictive, compulsive thoughts grab us.

I think you can feel the difference. There are really two different operating systems. You can feel that one has a sense of rightness if you really drop in. The other, if you pay attention, you see has mostly to do with the external world—a desire having to do with the praise I'll get, as opposed to it being satisfying in and of itself.

Question: You talked about something coming up for you the first time you wanted to go to a week-long retreat, and that was fear. Then you ended up going on a retreat a year later. Could you talk about how the fear went away?

Gil: I know it was fear, but I don't think I was self-aware enough back in those days to know what I was afraid of. I just knew I was afraid.

It was almost two years before I went back to do it again. By that time, I had moved to San Francisco and started sitting every day with the San Francisco Zen Center in their meditation hall. I started doing day-long retreats with them. Three-quarters of a year of living in that environment and sitting every day prepared me. I didn't have the fear that prevented me from going because I had become familiar with the whole process. I had done enough meditation that it felt like a continuation rather than a big jump.

For those of you interested in going on a retreat, some people do really well with beginner's luck—they just jump right in without knowing anything. But for most people, it is good to build up to it. Here at IMC, we have what we call "half-day retreats." I told that to a monastic once, and he looked at me like, "What?" [Laughter]. Our Wednesday mornings here have two sittings, and we call it a retreat. We also have day-longs on Saturday to help build up.

Question: Part of your talk was about having a calling. It made me think about how sometimes you have more than one calling, or things that really activate some energy. It also made me think about the fear around callings. I'm wondering if you could speak about how practice can help you navigate the complexity of life in that way.

Gil: A wise life, especially a spiritual or Dharmic life, does require making choices. In the modern world, there are so many options and calls—so many things we can do and think we should do—in a way that has never happened in human history before. People want everything.

Occasionally you can do two or three things and manage to balance them, but sometimes you have to choose, and it is very hard. I have been up against that in my own life a number of times. Sometimes I spent at least a year gnawing and struggling over the question: "What should I do? What path should I take here?"

Every time, I would go for walks, reflect, and spend a lot of time thinking. I believe thinking was valuable; it was like composting so something could grow. But the answer never came from my thinking. For me, suddenly, something inside just knew what to do. It was always a sudden thing.

Sometimes if you don't know what to do, you might just flip a coin. Whatever the result is, if you go "Oh, no!"—that reveals something much more clearly.

The other thing I can offer is that sometimes doing one thing really well opens amazing doors, so that maybe the other thing can come and join it later, or you find a way to do it later. You say, "Right now I'm going to do this really well and create a foundation."

By giving my life to this practice, slowly over the decades, all these doors started opening up in society and in the Dharma. Things that I wanted to do when I was young, I can now do in a whole different way. I was an environmental studies major in college; I wanted to work with ecology. Many years later, as a Buddhist teacher, I started a Buddhist Eco-Chaplaincy program and taught nature Dharma teacher training. I feel like it came back. By doing this well enough that I could train people to be teachers, I got to train people to be teachers in the wilderness.

So just do one thing well and see what comes out afterwards.