Margaret Cullen's Quiet Strength: Mastering Equanimity

Equanimity frequently arises in discussions surrounding mindfulness practices, but its relevance stretches far beyond structured meditation sessions, permeating the manner in which we navigate the challenges and routines of daily existence. The Journey Behind Quiet Strength In this engaging dialog

Equanimity frequently arises in discussions surrounding mindfulness practices, but its relevance stretches far beyond structured meditation sessions, permeating the manner in which we navigate the challenges and routines of daily existence.

The Journey Behind Quiet Strength

In this engaging dialogue, Margaret Cullen delves deeply into the foundational concepts that inspired her latest publication, Quiet Strength, while recounting the intensive five-year odyssey involving rigorous study, dedicated personal practice, and insightful exchanges with various thinkers that ultimately brought the book to fruition.

Angela Stubbs: How long has Quiet Strength been in development?

Margaret Cullen: It's been approximately five years now. Exactly five years.

Angela Stubbs: Let's travel back in time five years. Paint the picture for us. What circumstances in your personal life sparked the initial conception of this book?

Margaret Cullen: Thank you for posing that question; it's one I haven't encountered much before. I did touch upon it briefly in the prologue of the book itself. Nearly a decade prior to embarking on the writing process, I had started leading workshops centered on equanimity. Then, about five years ago, an editor from New Harbinger Publications contacted me with an invitation to author a follow-up book. At first, I was uncertain about committing to such an endeavor.

However, the concept gradually crystallized in my mind: crafting a comprehensive volume dedicated to equanimity promised to be both captivating and immensely practical for readers. The market was already saturated with literature on mindfulness and a substantial body on compassion—topics I had taught and written about extensively over the years—yet I questioned whether I had fresh perspectives to contribute there. In stark contrast, equanimity remained largely underexplored. This scarcity was precisely what initially drew me to incorporate it into my teaching repertoire. It received scant attention within the longstanding Buddhist communities I had immersed myself in for decades, as well as in the broader, secular mindfulness landscape.

It became evident that the moment had arrived for an in-depth exploration of this understated virtue, one that has quietly persisted in plain view across 2,600 years of contemplative history.

Buoyed by this enthusiasm, I revisited New Harbinger with the proposal, only to be met with a counter-suggestion for a workbook format. That wasn't the direction I envisioned. A workbook wasn't the right vehicle at that juncture. Instead, what was called for was a profound immersion into this subtle quality that has evaded the spotlight for millennia.

Angela Stubbs: I truly appreciate the profound inner certainty you exhibited by turning down the workbook idea and pursuing a more substantial path. It strikes me as an deeply intuitive undertaking. Could you elaborate on what that internal process felt like for you?

Margaret Cullen: The experience was one where the book seemed to guide me, which proved to be both intriguing and unexpected. From the outset, the project asserted its own distinct vision. I came to realize that I was essentially trailing behind its directives. The book itself declared, 'No workbook format,' 'Not with New Harbinger,' and 'This is precisely the form I intend to take.' By yielding to these impulses, the work expanded into something far more expansive, profound, and multifaceted than anything I could have conceived independently.

This unfolding was truly extraordinary. It guided me toward securing a literary agent, partnering with a major publishing house, and collaborating with an editor whose perspective beautifully aligned with and elevated the book's aspirations. Throughout, I sensed the book charting the course, with me perpetually a step or two in pursuit.

Angela Stubbs: As the manuscript started to coalesce, you grappled with the historical lineages and doctrinal variances concerning equanimity and its interplay with mindfulness. How did those deliberations, including your notable discussion with Sharon Salzberg, steer the final trajectory of the book?

Margaret Cullen: My original outline included a dedicated chapter dissecting the doctrinal interconnections between mindfulness and equanimity—a topic I had been monitoring for over two decades, starting from my time co-facilitating sessions with Alan Wallace. He conceptualized mindfulness in a precise manner, strictly as sati, which boils down to the simple act of recollecting to anchor oneself in the here and now.

Eventually, however, I recognized that delving deeper into academic scholarship wasn't illuminating the tangible, lived dimensions of these practices. So, I sought to distill the inquiry to its essence.

Within the insight meditation tradition, mindfulness encompasses not just the mechanics of returning to the present but an accompanying attitudinal stance. It's about re-engaging with the moment infused with non-judgment, a sense of spaciousness, gentle allowing, and freedom from reactivity. This very attitudinal essence is what we identify as equanimity.

During one exchange, I invited Sharon Salzberg to envision a Venn diagram: one circle representing mindfulness, the other equanimity. I inquired about the extent of their overlap. Her response was swift and unequivocal: They overlap entirely.

I recall my internal reaction: Entirely? Truly? We rarely employ the terms synonymously in everyday parlance. Nevertheless, numerous Western teachers in the Vipassana lineage assert that authentic mindfulness cannot exist without the presence of equanimity.

To reiterate, in this tradition, mindfulness inherently includes that attitudinal dimension. It's not merely about redirecting attention to the present; it's doing so with qualities of non-judgment, expansiveness, acceptance, and non-reactivity—precisely the hallmarks of equanimity.

Angela Stubbs: Does the concept of equanimity appear in spiritual or philosophical traditions outside of Buddhism and mindfulness? You conversed with Tom Block regarding its presence in Judaism and Sufism. Do those frameworks employ it in a comparable fashion?

Margaret Cullen: Naturally, variations exist across contexts, yet the parallels are remarkably consistent. Equanimity manifests in numerous wisdom traditions beyond Buddhism, including Judaism, Sufism, and Stoicism. It typically surfaces through a shared focal point: our relationship to the inevitable fluctuations of life.

Buddhist teachings poetically term these as the 'worldly winds': cycles of pleasure and pain, praise and criticism, success and failure, recognition and obscurity. Other paths articulate identical truths in their unique idioms, but the core inquiry remains universal: How do we respond to the ever-shifting tides of circumstance?

What caught me off guard was the ubiquity of this theme weaving through disparate traditions. Approaching it without preconceptions, one might be astonished to find equanimity embedded almost universally, even in unexpected corners of human thought.

Angela Stubbs: You've mentioned that equanimity sought you out during a time of genuine need. Could you describe the context of that period and how it emerged as a guiding force in your life?

Margaret Cullen: Equanimity has stepped in as a profound teacher on multiple occasions throughout my journey, but its initial profound lesson came during a retreat led by Sharon Salzberg. We began with foundational mindfulness exercises and lovingkindness practices, then devoted a full week to cultivating equanimity.

In the Vipassana approach, equanimity is nurtured via contemplative reflections on specific phrases. One such reflection encourages envisioning a beloved individual enduring suffering and contemplating: Their joy or sorrow stems from their own thoughts, deeds, and life conditions, not from one's desires for them. Despite this, one persists in holding good wishes for their well-being.

This insight hit me like a thunderbolt, transforming my understanding completely.

I integrated these phrases into both seated meditation and mindful walking. One crisp morning post-breakfast, as I strolled through the arid landscapes of Southern California during Joshua Tree's brief and stunning spring bloom, I wasn't in formal practice. Yet, the reflections pulsed with vitality on their own.

My thoughts turned to my mother, and the phrase surfaced: I bear no responsibility for her happiness. Moreover, this realization didn't preclude my capacity to love her deeply or extend sincere wishes for her welfare. It dismantled the false dichotomy between assuming charge of her emotional state and failing as a daughter.

My mother had long battled depression alongside other mental health challenges. From my earliest memories, it seemed my inherent duty was to engineer her happiness—an utterly unattainable goal. By my early twenties, this burden had plunged me into my own deepening depression, as I internalized each perceived shortfall.

In that pivotal instant, grasping unequivocally that I held no power over her happiness brought an overwhelming sense of liberation. It may sound self-evident in retrospect, yet it was revolutionary then. Furthermore, releasing this Sisyphean struggle neither betrayed loyalty nor diminished love.

We often internalize the notion that true love entails orchestrating another's emotional landscape. Equanimity reframes love as boundless yet unattached—to results, predefined roles, personal expectations, desired behaviors, or even the mandate for their perpetual happiness.

Angela Stubbs: A great many of us shoulder the weight of responsibility for the joy of our loved ones, particularly in familial bonds. In what ways does equanimity reconfigure these relational patterns?

Margaret Cullen: Societal conditioning has long positioned women as primary caregivers—be it as mothers, spouses, siblings, or offspring. These entrenched archetypes, which younger generations like perhaps yours, Angela, are actively challenging, have warped our perceptions of authentic love.

With figures like our mothers or our own children, we assume accountability for their emotional fulfillment. We misconstrue love as the active management of their inner states.

At its core, Buddhism charts a course toward unvarnished reality. No foundation proves more secure than truth itself. The unadorned fact is: I hold no sway over your happiness.

These equanimity reflections lay bare how attachment so deftly disguises itself as affection. In Buddhist thought, attachment ranks as the closest adversary to lovingkindness. Absent vigilant discernment, we merge them indistinguishably. We label others unloving when they withhold the attachments we crave, and we berate ourselves with guilt when our emotions stem from clinging rather than pure care.

Angela Stubbs: Could you expand on that distinction a touch further?

Margaret Cullen: Equanimity forms one pillar of Buddhism's Four Immeasurables—alongside lovingkindness, compassion, and sympathetic joy—all facets of love in its purest expressions. Thus, equanimity embodies love stripped of attachment: unbound by anticipated outcomes, rigid roles, personal demands, expectations of behavior, or the insistence on their happiness.

It honors the absolute autonomy of your life's domain. Even this phrasing risks misconception, as it implies I possess the authority to confer or revoke your independence—which I never did. The delusion of such control clashes with reality.

Here lies the knot in our romanticized views of love: We entwine attachment with genuine concern.

Angela Stubbs: In our current era, brimming with ceaseless causes demanding our emotional investment, how do you leverage equanimity as a practical resource amid adversity?

Margaret Cullen: Fresh off completing a book on the subject and fielding interviews, I face distinct self-imposed pressures, compounded by expectations from loved ones to embody unflappable equanimity. Fortunately, we can diffuse this with levity—humor serves as an excellent portal into the practice.

I've been drawing upon it extensively lately. Additionally, I rely on a handful of cognitive strategies that I employ routinely. These draw from Buddhism's three marks of existence, principles that resonate deeply with me and anchor my practice.

Angela Stubbs: Please share those strategies with us.

Margaret Cullen: The first involves querying: Am I personalizing this scenario more than warranted? As practitioners, we glimpse anatta, or non-self—the profound interconnectedness of all phenomena. Yet, we navigate daily life encased in isolated, constricted egos. This prompts a shift toward a more expansive relational stance.

Secondly, impermanence: When ensnared in reactivity—be it anguish or elation—I recall that all phenomena flux and transform. This eases my clutch on desire or repulsion. Aligning with this truth grounds me. Experiences prove less personal and enduring than our initial perceptions suggest.

Thirdly, I draw from Byron Katie's incisive question: Is this truly accurate?

Amid today's charged political climate, apocalyptic rhetoric abounds—we declare the world ablaze. It feels viscerally real. Yet, pausing to assess literally: Is the planet engulfed in flames? No, it's metaphorical. Such hyperbole intensifies fear, indignation, and unease, ejecting us from balanced presence.

Angela Stubbs: Equanimity carries frequent misconceptions. How do you clarify what it definitively is not?

Margaret Cullen: Equanimity stands in opposition to indifference, apathy, or passivity—these pose as its insidious counterparts.

It eschews withdrawal entirely.

For those profoundly invested in global affairs, even intellectual grasp falters against emotional resistance; it registers as retreat. I know veteran practitioners wary of equanimity, fearing it curtails their activist fire amid worldly crises. This misapprehension runs deep and undermines true engagement. Equanimity is not withdrawal.

This captures the exquisite paradox at equanimity's core: It fosters caring on an even profounder level, sans diminishment, while excising dramatic excess from our love.

We cherish this exquisite planet and its diverse inhabitants—flourishing and faltering alike—with amplified intensity, yet liberated from histrionics and fury. This liberation channels our vitality toward maximally effective action in our chosen arenas.

Angela Stubbs: We touched earlier on the interplay of mindfulness and equanimity. If mindfulness equates to clear awareness, where precisely does equanimity reside? You've characterized it as a form of balance—what does that entail?

Margaret Cullen: The balance in question is inherently dynamic, never rigid or immobile. We're not pursuing a petrified equilibrium. It's akin to the perpetual micro-adjustments in walking: with each step, balance momentarily yields, then restores.

Equanimity equips us to rebound swiftly, generating breathing room around perturbations when life unbalances us. It transcends mere detachment or cool composure, which can devolve into counterfeit versions. Rather, it cultivates adaptability and fortitude.

Angela Stubbs: The book's title, Quiet Strength: Find Peace, Feel Alive, Love Boundlessly, underwent revisions. How did the main title and subtitle develop over time?

Margaret Cullen: Initially, I favored Equanimity: The Quiet Virtue. That might have suited a narrower, Buddhism-centric scope. But as the project's ambitions broadened, it no longer aligned with my agent's or publisher's vision.

They proposed Quiet Power first, which appealed to me. Equanimity operates subtly yet wields immense potency, much like the fluid equilibrium powering martial arts, distinct from raw force. However, 'power' carried political baggage, so we settled on Strength.

The subtitle—Find Peace, Feel Alive, Love Boundlessly—departs from my typical phrasing. I generally avoid prescriptive directives, preferring invitational, open-ended language as a teacher. This is boldly affirmative. I quipped it evoked a sideshow announcer hawking equanimity.

Yet the book harbors ambitions surpassing my singular viewpoint, weaving myriad voices toward its worldly mission.

Angela Stubbs: Has any element of the book evaded reader inquiries thus far?

Margaret Cullen: Astonishingly, the neuroscience sections garner little attention. No one's probed my visit to an Arizona lab where transcranial stimulation targeted equanimity induction.

Labs pioneering mindfulness research now incorporate transcranial stimulation and advanced fMRI to dissect elevated meditative states.

Angela Stubbs: That introduces a strikingly novel lens on equanimity. What transpired during your lab session?

Margaret Cullen: They applied the stimulation and queried my sensations. I registered nothing. Disappointment ensued, especially with luminaries like Shinzen Young and lab director Jay Sanguinetti from the University of Arizona present. Over lunch, they recounted their own remarkable encounters with the tech.

I yearned for that breakthrough, even contemplating rescheduling my return flight for another trial. I trust their accounts fully. Yet, it eluded me personally.

From where I stand, equanimity occupies the vanguard of nascent research frontiers. It's nascent territory; its ultimate destinations remain unfolding mysteries.

Margaret Cullen is a licensed psychotherapist and trailblazer in integrating contemplative disciplines into conventional environments. Among the inaugural cohort certified in Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR), she has instructed globally. In her therapeutic practice, she led psycho-social support circles for cancer patients and families for more than three decades.

She pioneered Mindfulness-Based Emotional Balance, co-authoring a volume on it with Gonzalo Brito Pons. As Senior Teacher and Curriculum Developer for Humanize—a dyadic program rooted in contemplative science by neuroscientist Tania Singer—she advanced innovative training. A Mind and Life Institute Fellow and Global Compassion Coalition advisory board member, Margaret has sustained a meditation practice exceeding 40 years.