Nourishing your basic goodness

Dogen defined practice as giving life to your original self. This is not giving life to your deluded self, which we do all the time, but to your original self, your basic goodness, … which each one of us intrinsically possesses whether we realize it or not. This is the word practice. It can be understood in a very oceanic way or in a very shallow way, but still practice is always practice, and its truth is to ignite and reveal your true self within your everyday life.

J Kwong ,  No beginning, No End. The intimate heart of Zen.

Using the breath today

meditation breathingWhen we are physically and mentally calm, we have the ability to make choices in our lives. Often when we lose control we become physically or emotionally reactive. Not only does being aware of something as simple as breathing tell us a lot about the emotional state of ourselves and others, it gives us the chace to truly observe how and why we react in a certain way to specific circumstances. By anchoring in the present moment with our breath, the benefits of being in the moment are complimented by the natural relaxation that occurs with conscious breathing. Learning to be aware of our breathing is one of the single best tools we have for keeping a foothold in the present moment.

Shannon Duncan, Present Moment Awareness.

Silence in everyday life

Solitude is an elusive thing that needs to find us rather than us finding it. We tend to picture solitude in a naïve way as something that we can “soak ourselves in” as we would soak ourselves in a warm bath. We tend to picture solitude this way: We are busy, pressured, and tired. We finally have a chance to slip away for a weekend. We rent a cabin, complete with a fireplace, in a secluded woods. We pack some food, some wine, and some soft music and we resist packing any phones, iPads, or laptops. This is to be a quiet weekend, a time to drink wine by the fireplace and listen to the birds sing, a time of solitude.

But solitude cannot be so easily programmed. We can set up all the optimum conditions for it, but that is no guarantee we will find it. It has to find us, or, more accurately, a certain something inside of us has to be awake to its presence. Solitude is not something we turn on like a water faucet. It needs a body and mind slowed down enough to be attentive to the present moment. We are in solitude when, as Thomas Merton says, we fully taste the water we are drinking, feel the warmth of our blankets, and are restful enough to be content inside our own skin.

Ron Rolheiser, Longing for Solitude

A natural lightness of heart

Meditation comes alive through a growing capacity to release our habitual entanglement in the stories and plans, conflicts and worries that make up the small sense of self, and to rest in awareness. In meditation we do this simply by acknowledging the moment-to-moment changing conditions—the pleasure and pain, the praise and blame, the litany of ideas and expectations that arise. Without identifying with them, we can rest in the awareness itself, beyond conditions, and experience what my teacher Ajahn Chah called jai pongsai, our natural lightness of heart.

Jack Kornfield, A Mind like Sky: Wise Attention, Open Awareness

 

Resting the mind

Sometimes you may think that to sit is very difficult. But when you are able to stop and be at peace it is very easy…While sitting I make almost no use of my intellect. I don’t try to analyze things or solve complex problems by thinking about them. Thinking requires strenuous mental work and makes us tired. This is not the case while resting in awareness, or recognizing thoughts and emotions as they appear, or even taking the time to look deeply into them. We have a tendency to think that meditation demands a great mobilization of grey matter, but that’s not really the case.  Meditation is not hard labour.  Meditation rests the mind

Thich Nhat Hahn, Making Space: Creating a Home Meditation Practice

Autumn Dawns

The ancient rhythms of the earth have insinuated themselves into the rhythms of the human heart. The earth is not outside us; it is within: the clay from where the tree of the body grows. When we emerge from our offices, rooms and houses, we enter our natural element. We are children of the earth: people to whom the outdoors is home. Nothing can separate us from the vigor and vibrancy of this inheritance. In contract to our frenetic, saturated lives, the earth offers a calming stillness. Movement and growth in nature takes its time. The patience of nature enjoys the ease of trust and hope. There is something in our clay nature that needs to continually experience this ancient, outer ease of the world. It helps us remember who we are and why we are here.

John O’Donohue