An Interview with Paul Condon

Paul Condon

Paul Condon is an associate professor of psychology at Southern Oregon University. He has a PhD from Northeastern University. He has served as a visiting lecturer for the Centre for Buddhist Studies at Rangjung Yeshe Institute, and is a fellow of the Mind & Life Institute. His research examines the relational basis for empathy, compassion, and wellbeing, along with the influence of compassion and mindfulness training on those capacities.

His writing and teaching also explore the use of diverse scientific theories in dialogue with contemplative traditions, and his publications have appeared in such journals as Philosophy East & West, Mindfulness, Perspectives on Psychological Science, and Current Opinion in Psychology.

His recently published book is How Compassion Works: A Step-by-step Guide to Cultivating Well-being, Love, and Wisdom, co-authored with John Makransky and published by Shambala Press.

Ed Battistella: How did the idea for the book come about?

Paul Condon: John and I had been working together to explore correlations between compassion practice and psychological theory—through collaborative academic writing and in our conversations about meditation experience. Our first writing project was a journal article that introduced meditation as a relational practice, through the lens of attachment theory and other psychological perspectives. In that view, humans need to experience care and social support for optimal well-being. We extended this perspective to compassion training as well—we first need to experience what it is like to be a recipient of care to be able to extend inclusive and sustainable care to others. Over the course of that work, we realized that drawing on science to enhance understanding of meditation experience was a new direction of thought. The book grew from these collaborative threads, as well as several colleagues and meditation practitioners who shared their experiences with us over many years.

EB: In just a few words, can you tell our readers what the Sustainable Compassion Training model is?

PC: SCT involves three styles or modes of meditation. The first focuses on connecting with caring moments or benefactors so we can experience what it is like to be a recipient of care. That mode of practice helps to draw out our natural capacity for compassion and wisdom, which leads into the second mode, which is to recognize and stabilize in the sense that care and compassion are fundamental capacities of our being. Finally, those embodied qualities become the basis for the third mode: including others and the world in a stance of love and compassion.

EB: One of the things that impressed me most was your bringing together of Buddhist practice, cognitive science, and attachment theory. How did these three intellectual traditions come together for you?

PC: My academic journey has benefited from studying with various scholars across these different traditions—dating back to my days as an undergraduate. These scholars all modeled appreciation for transdisciplinary thinking. As I spent more time in meditation retreat, various connections between Buddhist contemplative experience and psychology occurred. For example, during one retreat, we engaged in practices of extending care to others. I noticed that it felt like that made the qualities of care, joy, and peace feel stronger. In that moment, I remembered a research study in which people who shared a chocolate bar together enjoyed the chocolate more and had a greater memory of the experience than if they had the chocolate bar alone. In a similar way, including others within our own capacity for joy, peace, and well-being amplifies those qualities. It felt natural to me that scientific theories could help enhance meditative experience.

EB: You also emphasize that the practices you describe have analogs in other traditions than Buddhism. What will secular readers or readers of other faiths take away from How Compassion Works?

PC: We invite people to draw on their own life experience and traditions to fill in the contents of the meditations. In the benefactor practice, a person could draw on caring memories from their life, a spiritual benefactor from their tradition, a moment with a pet, a place in nature, or even a proud or happy memory engaging in a favorite hobby or sport. The possibilities are endless. In our teaching, our first goal is to help people find such resources from their life that already exist. One of the most rewarding experiences as a teacher occurs when students rediscover these resources from their own life, but now imbued with a new interpretative framework of great significance.

EB: I’ve been reading How Compassion Works in small bites, as you suggested in the introduction. And I appreciated the periodic illustrative anecdotes. Do you think that slow reading can itself be a kind of meditation?

PC: Yes! According to grounded cognition, we are always simulating experiences through multiple modalities in the brain—for vision, muscle movement, smell, sound, etc. The benefactor practice draws on this natural capacity as well, to simulate experience of care from our past so as to relive them in the present throughout the body. This is happening while reading, too. Some fascinating research has shown that reading fiction in particular can help increase empathy because it involves simulating the experiences of diverse others. Fictional characters can also serve as benefactors by helping to work out various dilemmas or difficulties we might be facing. They can help us to be seen through their experience and inspire us in our own journeys. I recently read John Ciardi’s translation of Dante’s Inferno and found that experience to be deeply inspiring for contemplations of suffering and navigating challenges in our world.

EB: Is there a compassion deficit and compassion fatigue in modern society? As a psychologist, how do you measure compassion?

PC: Yes and no. There are obvious societal challenges that interfere with compassion. At the same time, the SCT model is based on a Tibetan Buddhist tradition called dzogchen, which emphasizes effortlessness. Compassion comes naturally and effortlessly when we are in contact with someone we like, or when we feel well-resourced. But when we experience various difficulties, such as stress, trauma, a lack of safety, or repeated exposure to others’ suffering, we shut off our emotional response and connection, which inhibits compassion. This ebbs and flows for all of us. People can access qualities of compassion with a sense of immediacy and effortlessness. We can look for the resources (including people and activities) in our life that give us a sense of safety, nourishment, and well-being and invest more of our attention and time into those resources to support ourselves and others. The more we pay attention to these experiences, the easier it will be to notice them and experience compassion for ourselves and others more effortlessly.

I’ve been impressed with a measurement called the Empathy Selection Task (developed by our colleague Daryl Cameron). In that task, people are asked to choose to feel what another is feeling or to describe another’s characteristics. This is a contrast between empathy and a more distant engagement with another person. People typically choose empathy, but report that it is effortful and demanding, and then switch to the describe strategy. If we can help people to feel repeatedly nourished, it might help them to sustain the empathic choice for longer, which could have many obvious benefits for professionals in healthcare, education, and all of us in our personal relationships. There are several other creative tools for assessing empathic and compassionate action, such as eye-tracking visual attention on scenes of suffering, offering a chair to someone on crutches in a waiting room, or intervening to include another in a virtual social interaction.

EB: Thanks for talking with us. Where can readers find your book?

PC: Thank you, Ed! The book is distributed by Penguin Random House and available through the major online retailers. For local readers in Southern Oregon, it’s also available at Bloomsbury Books.

 

Posted in Ideas and Opinions, What People Are Reading | Comments Off on An Interview with Paul Condon

What I’m reading King of Ashes

King of Ashes by S. A. Cosby

I’m a big S. A. Cosby fan now. I think he’s right up there with James Lee Burke. In this latest novel, we meet Roman Carruthers, the oldest son in a family that runs a crematory in fictional Jefferson Run, Virginia. It’s troubled, motherless family.

Roman is a high-powered Atlanta financial advisor, a “college-boy” (as he’s called by the gang members) who’s made good but carries a lot of guilt. His sister Neveah runs the crematory along with younger brother Dante and their father Keith. Roman returns because Keith has been in a car accident and is in a coma. Returning to his dying, corrupt hometown, Roman learns of Dante’s attempt to get in the drug trade, a decision that has gotten him in debt to a local gang run by homicidal brothers known as Torrent and Tranquil, who are responsible for running Roman’s father off the road. Roman tries to reason with Torrent and Tranquil as if he was in a business negotiation, but things don’t go well, and Torrent and Tranquil break Roman’s teeth and cut off one of Dante’s fingers. But soon Roman has a plan to take down the gang leaders.

There is a family drama superimposed on the crime story: the hospitalized father had long been suspected off doing away with his wife, Roman, Neveah, and Dante’s mother, who had been having an affair. Bonita Carruthers disappeared one day, never to be heard from again. No body of ever found and the conventional wisdom was that she ended up in the crematorium. Neveah is convinced that her father is guilty and pursues that cold case even as Roman and Dante keep her in the dark about their relationship with the gang.

There is plenty of fast-paced suspense, violence, and enough twists and turns to keep readers on their toes. The novel ends up being an elegant moral tale, of mistrust, betrayal, and unintended consequences. I, for one, did not see the ending coming.

 

Posted in What People Are Reading | Comments Off on What I’m reading King of Ashes

What I’m reading (June 2025)

The Postmortal by Drew Magary

This was a fun and frightening dystopian novel with an original twist.  A cure for aging is discovered (in an Oregon lab, no less). After some debate about its  safety and ethics, it becomes widely available, though not without opposition from terrorists. What could go wrong with mass immortality? Follow the blog of John Farrell, who evolves from attorney to “end specialist” who euthanizes people who can’t stand living any longer.

Dead Sleep by Greg Illes

This was a hard-to-put-down story of a tough photojournalist who takes on a serial killer who is anonymously selling paintings of his victims. Visiting a Hong Kong museum, Jordan Glass encounter the exhibition of “The Sleeping Women,” and sees her missing sister. She teams up with the FBI to hunt for the killer—who is also hunting her. Plenty of twists and turns.

Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone by Benjamin Stevenson

I read Everyone on This Train is A Suspect by Benjamin Stevenson and enjoyed it—the witty meta-mystery narrative and homage to the conventions of the genre. Everyone in My Family is the first book in the series, if two books can be a series, and I enjoyed this one a bit less. Ernie Cunningham is a likeable character but there seemed to be too many implausible twists (and at least one instance where Stevenson confused himself).

 

Posted in Ideas and Opinions | Comments Off on What I’m reading (June 2025)

An Interview with Parker Boom

Parker Boom

Parker Boom graduated Summa Cum Laude from Southern Oregon University with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing. Among other things, she served as president of the Creative Writing Club and was selected to present her poetry at the Oregon House of Representatives. Her work has been published in The Hyacinth Review, Anodyne, and The Texas Review. Originally from the Central Valley of California, she will be entering study in a Master’s in Fine Arts program at the University of St. Andrew’s in Scotland.

Ed Battistella: Congratulations on your graduation from SOU.

Parker Boom: Thank you! It’s a little surreal. It was a long, deliberate effort toward graduating and it still happened more quickly than I could have expected.

EB: I understand that you were the student commencement speaker. Can you give our reader’s the 10-word version of your speech?

PB: Language belongs to us until it’s taken. Use it now.

EB: When did you decide you wanted to be a writer?

PB: Not until I was already in school. I was uncertain, and nervous, at first; I enjoyed writing but only knew it as a hobby. It was my first poetry class that truly decided it—it felt as if I had encountered something so beyond me it spoke to me as nothing else could. Language was peeled down to its DNA and then braided back together. It was exciting, intimidating, harrowing, fun; it made me want to run down every street. I began to see language as material, and how the way I shaped it (intellectually, structurally, phonetically, etc.) created certain and lasting resonances. I knew then there was no other thing for me.

EB: What sort of themes do you explore in your poetry?

PB: At the end of my first term at SOU I became slowly but seriously ill. By the end of my first year, I balanced classes, projects, and papers with emergency room visits and a half-dozen new doctors. For a long while it was an exhausting search for what was wrong with me, which seemed severe and unending. This became an exhausting search for simply a word, any diagnostic word, to contain it. I have never felt so keenly the controversy, the distance, between the language of something and the experience of it. I have ankylosing spondylitis, which is a form of autoimmune arthritis located in the spine. For a clearer picture, I like to describe it like this: if left untreated, my spine would fuse into one, long bone. It feels like that.

So, to answer the question: I often write about illness. Writing is occasionally useful to vent exhaustion and grief and pain, but writing only for that purpose is, to me, limiting. In my writing of illness, the intangible structure and materiality demonstrates the internal realities of an eternally sick person—a sculpture, in a sense, to reveal the relationships between the self, the body, and language. My work tends to focus on the experience of illness, the body as separate and inseparable from the self and the larger world, and pain, for which language fails, for which language is its only failing translator. This body-language-self dynamic extends, as it must, to other themes, like queerness, faith, and politics (though I hate to describe my work as political when literature is inherently political, and insistence on its depoliticization even more so). I want to explore broader themes in the future, such as nonlinearity, history, multimedia and digital literature.

EB: I listened to “Were Awe” the poem you presented at the Oregon State House of Representatives. How did that reading come about?

PB: I was approached by the Dean of Arts and Communication, Andrew Gay, about the opportunity, and he was the one who invited me to write a poem specifically for the occasion. Between his endorsement and the nomination of both of my Creative Writing professors, Craig Wright and Kasey Mohammad, I was chosen to read my work for SOU’s Lobby Day. I was honored to represent SOU as a young artist in higher education, and for the opportunity to speak to the House Representatives who are with us at this critical moment, who have some power to wield and the opportunity to wield it. That poem aims to be an evocative, nebulous reminder of something much larger than person or nation. It is happening right now—what are we mortals going to do about it?

EB: Who are some of your influences or writers you admire?

PB: There are too many to name, but I’ll try. For the heavyweight classics, I love Dickinson and Whitman. Then, Claudia Rankine, Lyn Hejinian, and Joan Didion, for more modern picks. Some contemporary poets who were integral to building my poetic sensibilities were sam sax, Omar Sakr, and George Abraham. All three use language to illuminate realities of identity and place. Anne Carson is brilliant. Her work is complex to the point of astonishing simplicity. Anne Boyer is arguably the most influential writer for me. Her work combines the personal, political, economic and medical in writings beyond genre and in a voice that is both distant and intimate.

EB: Do you have a favorite book?

PB: Forgive me, I have to choose more than one! In nonfiction: Anne Boyer’s The Undying. In fiction: Salman Rushdie’s The Ground Beneath Her Feet. In poetry: Anne Carson’s Plainwater.

EB: You are headed off to Scotland. How did you choose the program at St. Andrews?

PB: Anne Boyer teaches there! At SOU, we’re taught her collection Garments Against Women (which I almost included above, but figured I was breaking enough rules), and I connected with it immediately. St. Andrews is also a program that balances workshop with seminar. I appreciate this emphasis on our role as literary citizens—a major part of creating one’s own work is engaging with the work of others, past and present. I was accepted and waitlisted at other programs but chose St. Andrews to learn this way, with a writer I admire, in a completely new country. Moving across the entire length of California and then some (from San Diego to Ashland) was a major shift; now, I get the chance to do that tenfold.

EB: Thanks for talking with us. Best of luck going forward.

PB: Thank you for the chance to talk! I know wherever I go, Ashland will be with me.

 

Posted in Ideas and Opinions, Interviews, Language | Comments Off on An Interview with Parker Boom