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September/October 2008 Spirituality
Living Deeply Through Transformative Experiences

by Marilyn Mandala Schlitz, Cassandra Vieten and Tina Amorok

Why is it that some powerful experiences - sometimes even just one - can change your consciousness in deep and lasting ways, while other deeply powerful experiences don't seem to have any effect at all? A well-established theory from developmental psychology offers some suggestions as to what differentiates exceptional experiences from truly transformative ones.

Jean Piaget, the Swiss-born biologist and pioneering developmental psychologist, together with his colleagues, observed that when a child is presented with a new experience, that new experience is most often assimilated or incorporated into their current beliefs and attitudes. Or, if a child's beliefs and attitudes cannot assimilate a new experience because it's too challenging or different, their cognitive structures must alter to accommodate, or make room for, the new experience.

For example, when children see a zebra for the first time, they often call it a horse. Having no concept for zebras, children assimilate the experience of the zebra into their current mental structures and decide that it's just an unusual horse. Eventually, a child will learn that there exists an animal similar to a horse in shape but actually a different animal altogether called a zebra. This process is the child accommodating her worldview to include the possibility of zebras.

We're naturally forced to stretch and revise our worldviews. But what makes it more likely that we'll accommodate rather than assimilate new information? Psychologists Dacher Keltner from the University of Calif. at Berkeley and Jonathan Haidt from the University of Virginia study experiences of awe and wonder, an area previously ignored by scientists.

These two pioneers propose that awe has two essential components: perceived vastness and a need for accommodation. In other words, it may be that some experiences are so vast, so profound, so far beyond what we've previously perceived, that they in effect demand that we transform our worldview in order to accommodate them. Rather than simply trying to assimilate these experiences into our constricted framework, we are forced to broaden that framework.

But still, why do some experiences that challenge your belief systems result in positive transformations while others result in trauma or greater rigidity and fear in your worldview? Keltner and Haidt suggest that it's your ability to accommodate new experiences - to shift your current structures - that may determine whether these awe-inducing experiences are terrifying or enlightening.

Taking this even a step further, Louise Sundararajan, psychologist and religious historian, proposes a model in which only assimilation failure leads to attempts at accommodation. In other words, if you can somehow squeeze this new experience into your current worldview, you won't stretch or revise your current structures at all. Conversely then, when the process of assimilation is challenged by a new experience but accommodation fails (we don't stretch successfully), the original belief structure can end up getting rigidly reinforced to defend itself against future threats to a cherished worldview or sense of identity.

Following that, when the sheer power of experiences makes accommodation the only possibility - but we are, for whatever reason, unable to acknowledge or embrace a big shift in our internal structures - the result can be trauma rather than transformation. Sundararajan proposes that it is self-reflexivity that allows for successful accommodation. Self-reflexivity is your capacity for metacognition - your ability to take a step back and reflect upon yourself and your thought processes. This ability may be linked to successful accommodation, Sundararajan says, because it can bring you back to square one for a radical revision of your model of the world.

Isn't it interesting that one of the essential components of transformative practice, across traditions, is the cultivation of this capacity to step back and look at ourselves? From the confessional in the Catholic tradition, to insight meditation in Buddhist tradition, to taking inventory of your behavior in steps four and 10 of 12-step programs, transformative traditions often include a practice to cultivate your capacity for self-reflexivity. Being able to step back and examine your thought processes makes you able to notice the outdated beliefs and attitudes you're holding on to despite a wealth of new information calling for you to transform.

Traumatic vs. Transformative Pain

As we've noted, not all painful experiences lead to transformation. So what's the difference between pain that's traumatic and pain that's transformative? Now that we're aware of our tendency both to disregard new information and, when we do notice it, to try to fit it into our expectations, what qualities can you cultivate to help you get the most out of potentially transformative experiences?

Buddhist teacher and author, Noah Levine, spoke about the need for wisdom when encountering pain and suffering along the transformative path:

In my experience, there's been a balance between feeling much more connected to others and feeling isolated and disconnected. To be awake in a world that is so asleep can feel very isolating and very lonely on some levels because ultimately, everything is connected and everyone is doing the best they can, but also - the best that people can do isn't very good. In general if you look at the world - the suffering and the oppression and the vast ignorance that rules this realm of existence, it can be quite painful. The more awareness and the more sensitivity, the more need for balance with equanimity and understanding - even saying to yourself, "Oh, this is just the way it is," may help.

It's my work to wake up and to help others wake up. At times I take it personally. It can be quite difficult and painful to handle doubts like, "Is my work really making any difference? What about the 15 million children that starve to death every year?" Being aware of that and caring about it, even if it's a feeling of compassion, is painful.

The Buddha says compassion is a quivering of the heart, which when it's not balanced with equanimity, is quite painful. When compassion is not balanced with wisdom it is very painful - and for me, I get out of balance. That can be quite difficult and as a result I feel very alone sometimes.

For many of us, this sensation of being overwhelmed by the challenges and suffering of the world can be hard to take - it can lead us to feelings of isolation and even impotence. As Levine points out, the more open and sensitive you become, the more you will feel - both more joy and more pain, of your own and others. Compassion is the willingness to open to the suffering of others. To balance this increased sensitivity, Levine recommends cultivating wisdom and equanimity through meditation practice.

Equanimity refers to an evenness of mind or a state of inner unshakability in the face of all the highs and lows of our various experiences. A fundamental element of not only Buddhist practice but of psychological health in general, maintaining a strong equanimity can make our deepest pain and grief bearable - and leave us in a better position to act rather than collapse or simply avoid issues because they're too distressing.

It's no wonder, then, that so many of the world's transformative traditions include some version of a practice to foster equanimity and wisdom along with practices to enhance compassion.

Marilyn Mandala Schlitz, Ph.D., Cassandra Vieten, Ph.D. and Tina Amorok, Psy.D. are co-authors of Living Deeply: The Art & Science of Transformation in Everyay Life. Visit www.livingdeeply.org. Reprinted with permission by New Harbinger Publications, Inc., Living Deeply, Marilyn Schlitz, et al., www.newharbinger.com.