Skip to main content
Stacks of bound journals and books on a library trolley and table, seen edge-on. Flat gold and black on cream

Week 4: Borrowed and renamed

Almost every technique in this course came from somewhere else and arrived with the label changed. Where they actually come from, what the adaptations dropped, and how to spot invented tradition

15 March 2027

Open the slides

Where. Outdoors, venue posted by the Friday before. Opens with the ten-minute detox.

Three weeks in, this course has handed you a sitting practice from South Asia, a defusion technique from an American psychotherapy tradition, and an argument for holding class outdoors built on a Californian neuroimaging study. None of that is a problem. Not knowing it would be.

This lecture is about provenance. Where the techniques came from, what got lost on the way here, and how to tell a real tradition from something a blogger made up in 2014. The last one is not a digression. It is the same skill the rest of the course teaches, applied to the course itself.

What the ten minutes actually is

The standard story is that Jon Kabat-Zinn took Theravāda Buddhist vipassanā practice, stripped the religion out, called it Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction, and handed it to medicine. Kabat-Zinn has written about the origins himself (2011, Contemporary Buddhism), and he does not hide the lineage.

But the tidy version is wrong in an interesting way. Husgafvel (2019, also in Contemporary Buddhism) went through the history and argues the “MBSR equals vipassanā” account is far too simple. Kabat-Zinn was shaped substantially by Mahāyāna and Zen teachers and by Tibetan Dzogchen, and MBSR’s philosophical footing diverges from Theravāda in ways that matter.

So the accurate sentence is the less quotable one. Adapted from Buddhist contemplative traditions, plural, and then renamed. Which is worth saying out loud, because “we do a secular ten minutes” quietly implies the ten minutes was always secular, and it wasn’t. Something was removed to get it here. An ethical framework, a community, a teacher, a purpose beyond feeling better. Whether that removal was a reasonable trade or a significant loss is a genuinely open question you are allowed to have a view on.

The pattern to watch for

Now the failure mode, because there is a repeatable one and once you see it you will see it constantly.

Ikigai. You have met it as a four-circle Venn diagram. What you love, what you’re good at, what the world needs, what you can be paid for. It is presented as ancient Japanese wisdom. It is not. The diagram was made by a British blogger, Marc Winn, in 2014, by taking a 2011 Spanish “purpose” diagram by Andrés Zuzunaga and swapping one word for ikigai. The Japanese concept is real and much older. Mieko Kamiya’s On the Meaning of Life (1966) is a serious treatment, and the concept has essentially nothing to do with being paid. The neuroscientist Ken Mogi, who writes on the concept, says plainly that the popular version is wrong.

Hoʻoponopono. Widely sold as a four-phrase mantra. I’m sorry, please forgive me, thank you, I love you. That version was popularised in the 2000s by Hew Len and Joe Vitale, propelled by an unverifiable story about a psychiatric ward. Traditional hoʻoponopono is a communal family process for repairing relationships, led by a kahuna lapaʻau. Morrnah Simeona’s adaptation in the 1980s is the legitimate step in between.

Look at what those two have in common.

StageWhat happens
1A practice exists inside a community, with a teacher and obligations
2A Western populariser compresses it into a graphic or a mantra
3It recirculates as ancient authenticity, stripped of the community
4The locus moves from repairing something between people to optimising an individual

Step 4 is the one to notice. In both cases the practice was originally about your relations with other people, and the export turned it into a private self-improvement tool. That should be uncomfortable in a course that has so far treated overthinking as a thing happening inside one head.

A framework that disagrees with this course

Which brings us to the most useful challenge on the syllabus.

Gee, Dudgeon, Schultz, Hart and Kelly (2014), writing in Working Together, set out an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander social and emotional wellbeing framework built on seven domains of connection. To body; to mind and emotions; to family and kinship; to community; to culture; to Country; and to spirituality and ancestors. Mind and emotions is one of seven.

Read that against this course’s structure and you will notice something awkward. Almost everything here sits in that single domain. Catch your loop, notice your layer, build your empty slot. The other six get treated as context at best. A framework in which wellbeing is constituted by connection to family, community, culture and Country is not offering a nicer vocabulary for the same idea. It is making a different claim about where a mind is located.

I am not going to resolve that today, and I am not going to pretend the course’s individual framing is neutral. It is a choice, it is the dominant one in the literature this course draws on, and it may be part of why the techniques help less than everyone hopes.

Where the rest came from

For the record, since we are keeping one.

Discussion

Teaching team