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Emotional Equanimity

Emotional equanimity is much more than the ability to feel serene in the here and now. It is about the ability to open to and accept our emotional experience; the  commitment to meet painful emotions with awareness. 

Emotional equanimity benefits from a clear understanding of how emotional life is organized in the mind.  It is based on emotional intelligence: the ability to recognize, understand, and manage feelings. Maintaining emotional equilibrium is not a simple technique but rather a multifaceted psychological function which lives in multiple layers of both body and mind, including innate temperament, biochemistry, and early trauma history. Except perhaps for the lucky few people who were effectively parented in early life, emotional equanimity requires a lot of inner work.  

The basic way we understand emotional experience is by consciously feeling our way into it. This may be likened to the process of locating a splinter: first we have to probe the inflammation to find out what is sharp and psychologically painful. What is often insufficiently recognized is that many emotions are inherently inchoate; early nonverbal experience tends to be unformed and it cannot be expressed in words.  To get the messages conveyed by our emotions, we need to be sensitive to their idiom of expression, and to develop an understanding of how they function within us. Deeper knowledge surfaces when we open to what is expressed in body sensation and images, metaphors and narratives.

  Example: Trying to discern why she was feeling depressed, a woman found herself with an unexpected image of Londoners in World War II sending their children off to relatives in the countryside. As she reflected on what this image was telling her, she realized that her depression was providing a zone of emotional safety, a respite from the bruising forces in her daily life. [Ex adapted from Karla McLaren, The Language of Emotion]   

 Unresolved emotions lie at the heart of every psychological problem. Cultivating emotional equanimity is not only about training the mind to attain states of calm; it is about learning to use our emotional challenges as opportunities for growth. Bottom line, our feelings reveal what we are unwisely holding onto and where we need to grow. Finding the wisdom in these experiences is beautifully expressed in the metaphor of a lotus in a pond, its roots in the mud below, its flower orienting towards the light above.    

No mud, no lotus.   


The Importance of StoryTeller Mind

The Importance of Storyteller Mind

It is not helpful (at least for psychotherapeutic purposes) to simply dismiss ideas, thoughts, and stories in the mind because they are fundamentally “empty” of substance.  Self-reflection about the content of our narratives helps us to achieve deeper contact with what is true for us personally and  anchor our experience, thoughts, and beliefs in our own wisdom.

Narratives encode subjective experience and create meaning in the psyche.  They reveal the way we see ourselves and others.  They make sense of what has happened to us in the past and create a blueprint in the mind for what we can expect in the future.  In this way, they create the structure we live by.  

Our brains are wired to understand and retain stories.

We are made of stories!

For more on this subject, see INQUIRING DEEPLY:


The Relational Moment

The “relational moment” can be defined as the felt sense of being-with a particular someone on a particular occasion. The ability to be-with is an inborn mammalian capacity for relational connection. (Every pet owner can attest to this). There is a layer of non-verbal relational knowing which exists prior to and underneath our higher mental capacities. It is this innate capacity that allows us to know what is happening when we walk into a room and get the vibe of the situation.

A special set of relational moments or “moments of meeting” are those in which there is a profound sense of mutual connection. Such moments of meeting occur in conversation when something is said and received in such a way that the speaker feels deeply seen, felt, accepted, and understood. The prototype of this experience is the moment that occurs immediately after birth, when a new baby looks into the eyes of a mother who is looking back. Such moments of mutual deep contact are what the philosopher Martin Buber understood to be the essential meeting of “I-and-Thou.”

Moments of meeting vary in level of depth. The shared relational and mindful moment feels replete with Presence. Along with the felt sense of connection or intimacy – being-with – there is a deep sense of being oneself. Connection may be so profound that the boundary between self and other momentarily disappears. Wisdom arises in such moments as the compassionate and intuitive knowing of the other’s experience, and sometimes as the experience of a heart-to-heart connection between us.

Schuman, M. (2017) Mindfulness-Informed Relational Psychotherapy and Psychoanalysis: INQUIRING DEEPLY. Routledge Press, New York

Inquiring Deeply Newsletter, November 2018

November 2018


Inquiring Deeply About Emptiness

There is a not uncommon experience people allude to as “emptiness”, meaning a deep sadness, yearning, or inner sense of something missing.  It often connects to a felt sense of deep deficiency or unworthiness.    This psychological emptiness is quite different in meaning from the Buddhist concept of the same name, which refers to the reality that things do not exist in the way we suppose that they do;  that life is empty of anything which is inherently substantial or permanent enough for us to hold onto. 

A good way to think about the psychological experience of emptiness is in terms of parts of us which have been lost from awareness.   What has been lost from consciousness leaves a vacancy, a place which feels empty.  Sometimes emptiness is a hole in our lives which comes from the loss of someone or something.  It may arise in relation to something we want very badly but despair of ever finding/having. Psychic holes in the mind may also come about as a result of traumatic experience or something else barred from memory.  

We can begin to explore emptiness by inquiring into the holes we find in our own lives.   What is missing?  In what way(s) do we feel insufficient?  What emotions do we not want to feel?  What in the balance of mind, body, and heart gets too little of our attention?   

We can also explore emptiness by paying attention to what we do to ‘fill’  the holes we feel within:  our addictive attachments to substances, activities, and people.  Ironically, our improvised ‘solutions’ to pain most often result in new, worse problems!  By exploring the strategies we use to block the feeling of what is painful,  we can deepen our awareness of the underlying feelings.

When we turn our attention to exploring empty places within,  often we may find memories of hurt feelings and conflicts that block our natural ability to connect to others.   Our most habitual and powerful feelings and thoughts define the core of who we think we are.  When we are caught up in a sense of being unworthy, the universal sense that ‘something is wrong’ turns into the feeling that ‘something is wrong with me’.  This felt sense keeps us on the run, driven by desperate efforts to get away from these bad feelings.

In a different vein, the experience of emptiness can sometimes be illuminated by contrasting it with its psychological opposite, aliveness.  We can inquire about the experiences in which we have felt most whole and complete, most authentic, most at peace with ourselves and with our world.   What has blocked these channels of vitality and aliveness?

In my view, our empty places, our ‘holes’, can ultimately only be filled by connection: both connection with others and better connection to ourselves.   Healing relationships (including psychotherapy) help us through deep listening both to what we say and what we don’t say (and may never even have thought!).   Deep empathic listening connects us heart-to-heart and cultivates our ability to extend compassion and tenderness towards what is wounded within us.

Mindful awareness of the experience of emptiness is a useful place to begin on the path of healing.  If we have the inclination and/or interest, we may also find it useful at some point to contemplate the nature of emptiness itself.  In a philosophical/spiritual sense,  emptiness is the Everything/Nothing from which all manifestation arises.   From this perspective, paradoxically, emptiness is a vast reservoir of unrealized potential. 

In the words of the Taoist sage Lao Tzu, it is the emptiness within the cup that makes it useful.

Picture Credit:  Farshad Sanaee


Inquiring Deeply Newsletter, October 2018

Inquiring Deeply Newsletter,   
October 2018


Inquiring Deeply About Praise

The famed German novelist Thomas Mann apparently experienced quite a bit of anxiety about how his work would be received.  He quipped that he suffered from a  “P vitamin deficiency”:  chronic hunger for praise.  

I personally resonate with the idea of P vitamin and its implied meaning: that approval fills deep needs and is an essential psychological nutrient.  It is quite evident that the need for approval is a driving force in human behavior, as well a basic regulator of self-esteem.  We are motivated to be seen in a myriad of different forms.  Praise and approval— as well as its close cousins mirroring, recognition, validation, and positive evaluation—   are all very high in Vitamin P!   Praise is an upper.   On the other side of the coin, the failure to receive praise which is wanted, needed, or expected is emotionally upsetting.

So, what is this about?  When we look into how the need for praise shows up in our experience, we confirm what Heinz Kohut postulated in psychoanalytic Self Psychology:   recognition and approval are self-delineating and life-affirming.  We seek validation for who we take ourselves to be and in order to feel a vital connection to our core experience of self.    In Buddhist psychology, the primal motivation is thehunger to be; to exist.

When we do not get sufficient Vitamin P from important relational others—when we fail to be affirmed as valuable, special, worthwhile, and/or lovable— our incapacity to sustain a coherent sense of ourselves shows up as emotional turbulence.   While each person’s experience is somewhat idiosyncratic,  the general tenor is usually anxiety, depression, or similar.    What I find in my own experience is a sense of deflation: negative mood and self-critical ideation.  The general idea of contraction seems to capture it.

The hunger to be seen is a primal relational desire:  the need to exist in the eyes of the Other.  This deep relational need stems from the fact that humans need other humans to survive.  To be abandoned as a helpless baby means certain death.  Psychological survival, too, depends on being seen.  This reality was dramatized in the classic novel of the late 80’s, “Clan Of The Cave Bear”, in which a female character was psychologically exiled for nonconformity to the tribal rules of her Neanderthal brethren.  No one was to make eye contact with her.  This was a brutal form of punishment.

Self is brought into being in relationship.  The prototypical moment is the one that occurs in the first moments after birth, when the new baby looks into the eyes of a mother who is looking back.  As Kohut put it, the self at birth is a virtual self, a self which develops in the process of being seen and responded to by(m)other. This is true in earliest psychological life and remains so throughout the life span. What is not validated by others will tend to be repressed or will simply fail to come into being.  In other words, if we are not seen, we cannot be fully alive.

So, the wish to be seen is quite understandable.   But how can we understand thefear of being seen? In psychological terms, we find at its core the fear that we are not worthy of being seen.  In Buddhist terms, this too is connected to a fear of non-being.  

Our fear of being invisible connects both to our elemental fear of death and of existential emptiness. The fear of not being seen joins together with the fear of being alone.   This can become a futile quest to fill our empty places with other people.

So it is useful to inquire deeply into both the wish and fear of being seen.  We need to find within our own experience all the ways that, directly and indirectly, we seek P vitamin;  all the constructive as well as dysfunctional ways we seek attention and approval.  A compelling example from contemporary life is how people relate to getting “likes” on social media, which can assume the proportions of an actual addiction!  According to some, ‘thumbs up’  stimulates little bursts of dopamine in the brain.  (Maybe that is Vitamin P!)

In any event, when we inquire deeply, what we can also find is that recognition is not love. Our deepest desire is not for praise or approval, but for connection with others. 

* Mindfulness-Informed Relational Psychotherapy and Psychoanalysis:  Inquiring Deeply
Routledge Press, 2017.


Inquiring Deeply Newsletter, September 2018

Inquiring Deeply Newsletter,   September 2018


Wise Understanding of Emotion

One of the salient qualities of inner peace is equanimity, defined as the ability to maintain mental and emotional balance in the midst of whatever is happening.  For human beings, emotional turbulence is the major surface of challenge.    As the tightrope illustration suggests, emotional balance is a capacity which entails both skill and practice.   It rests on a foundation of wise and compassionate understanding of emotional life.
I find it useful to engage awareness practice to amplify emotional experience around these issues. Deep inquiry—  “Inquiring Deeply”— investigates emotional reactivity as a means of deepening understanding of emotional life.    Both personally and professionally, I find this method to be a powerful catalyst for emotional growth.  The basic principles are simple:
  • Make explicit your intentions, aspirations, and goals in regard to your emotional life.  The main intention is to be with the experience of being upset.  Other possible examples:  to learn to sustain your experience of being centered (physical balance is a great analogue of this skill);   to deepen your understanding of some particular emotional state — (e.g., the experience of being disappointed).
  • The most basic observation is, “being emotionally upset is like this.” **  Then, inquire deeply regarding what you are feeling;  what it is connected to;  what is beneath that.
  • Bring mindful awareness to the somatic experience of emotional activation and have the intention to relax into the experience.  Emotion lives in the body. We process experience through the very act of bringing conscious awareness to it.  
  • Notice how you are relating to the experience of being upset. The goal is to not hold onto experience, push it away, or escape from it, but rather to simply be with, open to, and receive it.
  • The primary goal in relating to emotional experience is for feelings to be felt more completely so that release and letting go can happen. Mindful awareness of emotional experience is key, but at the same time it should be understood that letting go is not something that happens all at once. It occurs in stages through a process called “working through”. 
  • It may not be skillful to just name emotions if in so doing you relate to your emotions like symptoms of a disease you are trying to cure or problem you are trying to get rid of. The frame in which you hold emotional experience is important! 
  • Emotional reactivity is grounded in our interpersonal (relational) matrix of connection. It is not possibly to deeply understand Self without also understanding Other.  Psychological understanding of the dynamics between us is also very helpful.  
  • “Inquiring Deeply” about your emotional experience means to consciously engage your experience  (on and off the cushion) with the attitude of delving into it, feeling whatever it is more fully and inviting it to reveal itself.   More than simply mindfulness of the moment, deep inquiry explores the meanings and messages conveyed by your emotional experience.
Ultimately, emotional equanimity is about “going with the flow” of experience.  It rests on the broad foundation of our ways of being; what we may call our “life balance”.  Thus, at the psychophysiological level, for example, equanimity reflects our capacity to relax and rest; the balance between being active and being receptive.  At the interpersonal level, it rests on the balance between being with others and being alone, plus our ability to be in harmony with others.  And finally, at an existential level, equanimity is related to our energetic state.  This includes the way we animate ourselves, our pace of life, and our capacity to be centered and present with What Is.

The overarching goal in deep inquiry about equanimity is to be available to the experience of wisdom and compassion that is available in every moment.   As we are reminded by Pema Chodron’s memorable and wise quote,  “This very moment is the perfect teacher.”

* This is the principal topic of my book “Mindfulness-Informed Relational Psychotherapy and Psychoanalysis:  Inquiring Deeply”  (Routledge Press, 2017)

**  In the style taught by Ajahn Sumedho.

Picture Credit:  Quint Buccholz Giacomond

Here and Now







The most common perspective gleaned from contemporary dharma teaching is that our goal in mindfulness practice should be to keep ourselves in the present moment.   For example, from a recent “Daily Dharma” published by Tricycle magazine:

“We can get dragged back into the past, which can lead to depression, or we can become anxious about the future, which can lead to fear. Conscious breathing returns us to the here and the now, where we really belong”.
—Gary Gach, “Brief Teachings

This is certainly some truth in this.   And, we have all gotten (repeatedly) lost in our minds.  

HOWEVER:  The present moment does not, and cannot,  exist in isolation from the past and future.  The present moment includes what arises in the mind as we recollect what has happened to us.   The process of recollecting and narrating our experience is an essential part of the activity of the brain/mind that is given to us as human beings.   Stories about what has happened to us in the past are an integral part of the present moment (albeit not the direct experience of the present moment).


Similarly, we don’t exist in isolation from how we relate to the future.  Planning, thinking about, and fantasizing are intrinsic functions of mind.  It is important to be aware of these processes and to try to be conscious of them.   It quite often happens that we topple forward toward the future, and we can become quite anxious in the gap of Unknown between now and then.  It is skillful to be wise about the imagined future through the way that we formulate our intentions.

A woman said to me in a therapy session:  I want to stop worrying and just be present with what’s happening.

I said:  worry is what is happening.


Are Buddhism and Psychotherapy Different?


“We are all living within a myth, the myth or myths that provide us with our fundamental world view. Psychotherapists [often read] the Buddhist myth in terms of their psychotherapeutic myth…But to understand Buddhism, one must enter the Buddhist myth, and once we are within that myth, then we will naturally read psychotherapy in terms of Buddhism”… Patrick Kearney

As my dharma practice has unfolded during dedicated study over more than 40 years,  it has taken shape as a psychologically-minded contemplative practice that I call “Inquiring Deeply”.    Simply stated, I have made it a habit to inquire within about the “deeper meanings” I see in whatever events are transpiring in the moment.    My inquiry lives in the overarching frame of Buddhadharma.  It begins with the premise, as Pema Chodron famously said, that “this very moment is the perfect teacher”.

Starting with the intention to explore the leading edge of subjective experience, “Inquiring Deeply” is awareness practice which is focused on deepening understanding of your emotional life.  Deep emotional understanding is more than simply mindfulness.   It is intuitive understanding grounded in personal history, embodied experience, and the felt sense of things.   The emphasis in deep inquiry is on exploring the field of relational connection with others.

The most frequent question that I get asked is how (and whether or not)  Inquiring Deeply differs in any significant way from the dharma practice I have learned in the American Vipassana movement (as taught by Joseph Goldstein, Jack Kornfield, and many others).   I found that question sufficiently interesting that I wrote a book about it  (“Mindfulness-Informed Relational Psychotherapy and Psychoanalysis:   Inquiring Deeply”;  Routledge Press, 2017).   

Are Buddhism and psychotherapy different? Zen-like, in my book I conclude BOTH yes and no; NEITHER yes nor no.    Your answer depends upon where you are looking from.   As the opening quote suggests, both Buddhism and psychotherapy are narratives  (“myths”).  The distinction between them is neither clearly delineated nor fixed. 

That said, my effort has been to construct a wise and compassionate frame that includes them both. 




The Best Thing For Being Sad……

“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlin, ….”is to learn something. That’s the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then — to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn.”

                    ….T.H.White   from The Once And Future King

Autobiographical Reflections: Marjorie Schuman, Ph.D.

:                                                                       I Used To Be Different,  Now I’m The Same

My parents often said I was a born psychologist.

From as early as I can remember, I felt compelled by the mysteries of consciousness.   Inquiring deeply into these questions has been the unifying theme of my life.

My wish to understand the connection between mind and brain led me to a PhD at the University of Michigan, where I studied psychology and psychopharmacology, and then to postdoctoral work in the UCLA Department of Psychiatry.   

But as much as I loved what I studied,  academia felt  too dry and objective to me.  I came to recognize that in order to understand the mysteries of awareness, I needed to  focus on the inner landscapes of my mind. 

Mid-career,  I turned my attention to clinical work.   I did advanced training in psychoanalysis and Buddhist mindfulness meditation.  This professional identity has been a wonderful container for my continued learning over the years and has enabled me to come more and more fully into being as myself. 


II.      IT TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE:                                                                                The Gift of Being Fully Understood

I have always possessed the ability to know intuitively where people are coming from. As a psychotherapist, I can sense what my clients are feeling and can translate those feelings into words for them.    More than 30 years of practicing Buddhist meditation has also had a large impact on the way I approach therapy.

My insight and psychoanalytic understanding help me to contextualize and articulate complicated feelings and emotions.  It supports my ability to be an unwavering and emotionally attuned anchor in guiding others through difficult life experiences.

Bottom line,  I believe that the ability to Identify what you are feeling is the first step in self-understanding.   And, I believe that therapeutic empathy is the most important factor in the healing of psychological wounds.

III.   LIFELONG STUDENT OF THE MIND:                                                                     I teach, therefore I learn

My work as a clinical psychologist was greatly enriched by the decade I spent as an Associate Professor at the California School of Professional Psychology where I taught psychology graduate students.   Developing and implementing advanced curriculum sharpened my clinical prowess and enhanced my understanding of how to work with clients.

I absorbed as much from my students as hopefully they did from me. I also realized that teaching and learning are two sides of one coin.

Years of teaching has paid off regarding the psycho-educational dimension of my clinical work. My ability to explain concepts in simple terms helps clients understand the process they are engaged in.