Learning from the season – let go

Now is the end of summer, harvest time. From that point of view, [Fall ] is a chance to harvest the results of whatever has happened in our lives this year…To be a student of meditation is to take to heart that short-term fixes are usually illusions. To make real change, we need an actual path. Any genuine path takes time.  Most of the time, we simply want to practice more things than we can practice, take on more than we can take on, achieve more than is possible to achieve. This is especially true if you live in an exciting and overstimulating city. The wish to do more things than we can actually do comes from a positive place –  it’s because we love life, recognize impermanence and want to experience as much as we possibly can before it all slips on by. That’s why we end up doing WAY too many things and driving ourselves nuts with busy-ness. Sadly, when we try to do everything, we find ourselves doing much less than if we just took on a few things. 

Here’s the exercise in simplicity that I often introduce to students when I work with them closely. Let’s say that each day you can only do five things. Each of these five things must be done with the view of a practice, a process that we engage in to develop our heartminds and cultivate the qualities we want to embody in this precious and not-long-enough life of ours. You can only do five practices every day. Not six, not eight. Five.

Let’s assume for the purpose of this exercise that the basics – such as food, shelter, and medicine –  are all taken care of each day. Let’s assume that after that, you can do five things, each of which is viewed as a practice, which means each is a process where daily engagement in the process is considered more important than outcome. If you only had five practices for the fall, what would they be?

Ethan Nichtern, “A Meditation for the Fall”,  Huffington Post

Take a step back

The life view of getting things done and getting ahead moves in one direction; stepping back does not seem to be in accord with that view. It’s non-productive, so we don’t have time for it. But what we realize is that if we don’t step back , time has us. We are on the run, on the treadmill of work, career and getting ahead; on the vehicle of what we can get out of life, a vehicle that’s driven by a blind driver. But if we can’t afford ten minutes or even five minutes, that blind driver is going to stay in the driver’s seat. If we can step back, and not be anything or be nothing – not adopting some view that life’s a waste of time, but just curtail being wasted by time –  then there is room for a subtle inner light to dawn. For a moment we can stop putting the pressure on, and stop running to find something to be filled by.

Ajahn Sucitto, Turning the Wheel of Truth.

Slowing down today

Sitting is a natural slowing down of this rushing, self-centred, mind-body chattering that we often live. This is a practice of realization, which is what we are, and practice allows us to be who we are. As we practice we discover who and what we are….Being still is not a means to an end; it is not that we should be still and then create something else or change. Being still is being who we are.

Elihu Genmyo Smith, Everything is the Way

Semi-conscious living

Considering that Merton died in 1968, these words have even more weight in the sense that the level of semi-attention and noise back then was tiny in comparison to what we experience now.

Now let us frankly face the fact that our culture is one which is geared in many ways to help us evade any need to face this inner, silent self. We live in a state of constant semiattention to the sound of voices, music, traffic, or the generalized noise of what goes on around us all the time. This keeps us immersed in a flood of racket and words, a diffuse medium in which our consciousness is half-diluted: we are not quite ‘thinking,’ not entirely responding, but we are more or less there. We are not fully present and not entirely absent; not fully withdrawn, yet not completely available. It cannot be said that we are really participating in anything and we may, in fact, be half conscious of our alienation and resentment. Yet we derive a certain comfort from the vague sense that we are ‘part of’ something – although we are not quite able to define what that something is – and probably wouldn’t want to define it even if we could. We just float along in the general noise. Resigned and indifferent, we share semiconsciously in the mindless mind of Muzak and radio commercials which passes for ‘reality.’

Thomas Merton,  Essential Writings

Non-doing in stillness and activity

A new MBSR group started last evening. However, new or experienced, young or old, the practice is the same: intentionally seeing what is present each moment before our eyes, tuning in to the richness of what is already there, switching off the leaning in our being and in our doing.

Non-doing has nothing to do with being indolent or passive. Quite the contrary. It takes great courage and energy to cultivate non-doing, both in stillness and in activity. Nor is it easy to make a special time for non-doing and to keep at it in the face of everything in our lives which needs to be done.

Jon Kabat-Zinn

The depth beneath our thoughts.

In 1929 the British Broad­casting Corporation decided to start broadcasting “live silence” in memory of the dead instead of just halting transmission for two minutes every day; it was important, it was felt, to hear the rustle of papers, the singing of the birds outside, an occasional cough. As a BBC spokesman put it, with rare wisdom, silence is “a solvent which destroys personality and gives us leave to be great and universal.” It permits us, in short, to be who we are and could be if only we had the openness and trust. A chapel is where we hear something and nothing, ourselves and everyone else, a silence that is not the absence of noise, but the presence of something much deeper: the depth beneath our thoughts.

A chapel is where you can hear something beating below your heart.

Pico Iyer, Where Silence Is Sacred