In part one, we approached equanimity by exploring what it is not. Recall, it is not the apparent calm that comes when we stifle thoughts or feelings. Nor does it come when you identify so fully with your thoughts and feelings that they totally envelop you.
Instead, equanimity arises when the self, with all its preoccupations, does not stand in the way of a direct experience. That is what happened to me when my granddaughter was born. It is true, I was identifying with my daughter-in-law, Ann. I even felt the muscles in my abdomen subtly contract in concert with her contractions. But I was also watching the scene, which included me, with a certain matter-of-fact calm. I felt no fear; I had no thoughts, no personal concerns. You might call this falling into equanimity.
It is possible to create the conditions that make equanimity more likely. Sitting in meditation with your spine straight brings you closer to equanimity. Quieting the mind by repeating a word of your choice – much like you would repeat a mantra – can also help. You can also make the body your object of awareness and label moment by moment, either out loud or silently, the body locations where your awareness lands. To further the conditions for equanimity, use a flat, matter-of-fact voice. It’s also possible to taste equanimity by adopting a no-self perspective. Try stepping back from your immediate concerns and focus on the expansiveness of time, perhaps in the comings and goings of glaciers, ecosystems, and human communities. Or look into the vastness of space and be aware of the hardly visible.
