Equanimity, Impartiality, Care, and Inquiry

Equanimity is said to be one of the benefits of a mindfulness practice. Even the most commonly-found definition of the word proclaims this: "evenness of mind especially under stress."

There is, however, hidden in this word "equanimity" a profound key to how equanimity itself is attained. One online dictionary throws in the word "impartiality" as a synonym. Notice, though, that this is not a pure synonym of "evenness of mind." Instead, impartiality can be seen as a prescription for those who want to attain evenness of mind.
 
A call to be impartial, truly impartial, though, is a call to great courage. Feel into the implications of Jewish mystic Baal Shem Tov's take on radical impartiality:
 
"No matter what happens, whether people praise or shame you, and so, too, with anything else, it is all the same to you. This applies likewise to any food: it is all the same to you whether you eat delicacies or other things."
 
Pull on that thread a bit and things start to unravel. Might you love all children as much as you love your own? Might you start to look at the plight of people in another land with the same interest and compassion as you look to the plight of your fellow citizens?
 
Now, in all fairness, the Baal Shem Tov was speaking of impartiality in the context of constant service to God, so his impartiality is not without bounds, but is instead held in the context of a larger Cause. Still, his invitation rings boldly.
 
To be truly impartial is to face into those aspects of our own inculturation that declare that  impartiality is evidence of a lack of care. Centuries of poetry, song, and literature have argued relentlessly that love and partiality are inextricably intertwined.
 
Part of the practice might be to examine one's own adoption of the shared values rampant in our culture around the issue of impartiality. Do you find yourself bothered less than you used to about the outcome of an athletic event, or an election, or a relationship, or a war? If so, it may be evidence of a lack of care, as our poets, songwriters, or writers might contend. Or, it just may be evidence that you are developing an increasingly deep equanimity.
 
How can you tell the difference?
 
Here are a couple of questions to ask that may shed light on the issue:
  • Are you impartial because you can see the gifts (or potential for gifts) of both outcomes, or because you don't care about the gifts of either?
  • Is the topic (event, election, relationship, war) one in which you have a caring interest, regardless of the outcome, or is the issue low on your list of priority issues?
Another consciousness practice to bring to this question of equanimity is to develop awareness of the inner voices arguing against equanimity. To test it out, make to yourself a declaration of impartiality, such as, "It is not important to my well-being or that of others whether this result or that result occurs." Listen closely … eavesdrop on your interior conversation. When you hear an argument against this impartiality, listen closely to it and begin your inquiry. Such a voice might sound like, "yes, it is important that the result go this way, not that way."
 
Then, you might try Byron Katie's four questions:
  •  Is it true?
  •  Can you absolutely know that it's true?
  •  How do you react, what happens, when you believe that thought? 
  •  Who would you be without the thought?
Start with small opportunities for impartiality. Don't go straightfor the "love all children as my own" experiment. You can work up to that later, if you like.
 
For now, it is enough to start to feel into the forces within us that move us away from impartiality, away from equanimity, and toward suffering.
 
I suspect that, with patience and courage, you'll find the tiniest of gaps between partiality and care. Once you find that gap, if you choose to pursue it, you may just find that love and care doesn't necessarily hurt as much as popular culture would have us believe.
 
What might life be like if that were true? What might this world be like?
 
[The photograph of the sunrise off Fort Lauderdale 12/13/11, is by the author.]
Submitted by Tom Goddard on December 22, 2011.