Stories of who we are

portmarnock sun

The arrogant mind never stops looking for identity and  this identity always defines itself through attributes: “the beautiful  one”, “the smart one”, “the creative one”,  “the successful one”… We are always searching for something to be.

Dzigar Kongtrul Light Comes Through

Any time you visit a new country – or move to one, as is my case – your senses are heightened and a lot of impressions are made, simply because things are often done differently or in new ways. And sometimes we draw comparisons, or make judgments, such as “it was done better there” or “this is not so good”. It seems that the mind is always trying to fit our current experience into some kind of story, and likes to use comparisons to guide itself in that. It prefers a coherent narrative. We are always thinking about things such as where we are going, where we’ve come from, what we’re going to do. So when, the other day, I got a mail from a friend asking “What is it like to be back in Ireland”, I noticed that the mind immediately moved to present a response, even though it was too early to say anything. We like our identities to be defined, and so a story about our life is always there in the background. What I notice is that these stories can frequently put us under pressure and reflect expectation which we, or others, place on ourselves.

However, what is clear to me these days is that our practice in life is about dropping the habit of identifying with our limited and limiting stories which are often rooted in fear and instead about sticking closer to the confidence of our true nature and what the present moment brings. So a huge part of our meditation practice is relating to our experience in a fluid, non-fixed sense. Intellectually this is easy to see – we are, at all levels, constantly evolving and growing. On a physical level, we are always in process, changing every time new food is taken in,  with each breath we take, and as the body changes with growth and age. What we see, if we look closely, is a constant state of flux. Knowing this in an experiential sense is harder – we have to practice applying this to our experience and to whatever passes through the mind in the form of thoughts or emotions. This helps us to see life as  a series of moments of consciousness arising in succession, one at a time and then falling away.

So in this succession of experiences in every moment, and every day,  does it help us to try to establish a solid identity or attach categories to our experience? On one level I have found that is not and we are  actually not wishing for one. At any moment we have a working story of who we are, and maybe even have more than one. If we bring awareness to these stories we notice how they frequently create separation and suffering, as we often rush to defend the “self” created by them. We place a lot of energy into keeping solid this image – this concept –   of ourselves, and less energy into directly relating to our experience, moment by moment. If we do not  hook into,  or identify with,  many of the passing moods and thoughts which arise and fall away, a lot of our experience become easier, and  we are in a better position to welcome whatever happens. We find it easier to not define ourselves by our roles, our status, our relationships and our possessions, and consequently are not as threatened when these things change. Letting go of the story means that it is easier to give up on the expectations that we bring to each event and harder to see our “identity” as threatened,  or our life path not working out as “intended” , since we have given up on having that predetermined end. It means that we recognize and work better with the continually changing nature of experience and fight with it less. Holding this aspect of our self more loosely ironically means that our deepest self is more content.

A change in climate

rain-puddle

Let me say this before rain becomes a utility that they can plan and distribute for money. By “they” I mean the people who cannot understand that rain is a festival, who do not appreciate its gratuity, who think that what has no price has no value, that what cannot be sold is not real, so that the only way to make something actual is to place it on the market. The time will come when they will sell you even your rain. At the moment it is still free, and I am in it. I celebrate its gratuity and its meaninglessness.

Nobody started it, nobody is going to stop it. It will talk as long as it wants, this rain.

As long as it talks I am going to listen.

Thomas Merton, Rain and the Rhinoceros

Sunday Quote: Round and round

File:Unisphere-cc.jpg

The secret of the world is this:

the world is entirely circular and you will go round and round endlessly, never finding what you want,

unless you have found what you really want inside you. 

Jeanette Winterson

photo uri baruchin

….And keeping our faces toward change

imageLife is either a daring adventure, or nothing.

To keep our faces toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable.

Helen Keller

In a general sense we seem to prefer things to remain the same and dislike too much uncertainty (except  maybe when the normal dull Irish Summer has been replaced by warm sunny days).  Change unsettles and can prompt an almost instant movement towards turning away or tightening up.  So it is a challenge to “keep our faces towards change” –  as Helen Keller says-  by going against our instinct for once and staying with something that our fears tell us to avoid.  When we consistently buy into our fears and strengthen fearful  thoughts, we can forget some of the larger truths of life, or  lose sight of our essential confidence and strength. An avoidance mentality leads us to expect trouble and weakens our ability to live with how the present moment is unfolding.

One of the fundamental truths of existence is that life changes, and changes in ways that we cannot expect. So developing this capacity to turn towards change is a necessary skill for working with life. It is probably best to practice it in smaller matters, so that it is somewhat developed when the bigger changes happen. So it is good to sometimes look at some small things we avoid and see what we can learn from them. We could practice with something like some paperwork we have been putting off, a contact we have been delaying, or staying in the presence of  someone who disturbs us instead of running away.  In this way we can be curious about  what happens when we  move towards something rather than moving away.

photo of dawn at Dunmore East Co. Waterford, Ireland

Staying put

File:Abbaye-de-tamié-savoie.png

In meditation we discover our inherent restlessness. Sometimes we get up and leave. Sometimes we sit there but our bodies wiggle and squirm and our minds go far away. This can be so uncomfortable that we feel it’s impossible to stay. Yet this feeling can teach us not just about ourselves but also about what it is to be human. All of us derive security and comfort from the imaginary world of memories and fantasies and plans. We really don’t want to stay with the nakedness of our present experience. it goes against the grain to stay present. The  instruction is,  Stay…stay…just stay.  So whenever we wander off, we gently encourage ourselves to “stay” and settle down.

Pema Chodron, The Places that Scare you

Today the stage of the Tour de France takes place around Annecy and goes up the Col de Tamié. On last Sunday I was fortunate enough to be in that part of the world as I went to the liturgy in Cistercian Abbey of Tamie, founded in 1132. As always,  I was struck by the silence as I sat in the ancient church, as the thick walls keep out most sounds and I was conscious of a depth of stillness. I have visited the place often and I recognized the faces of the monks. They have been there, every day since I last visited, performing the same work in that isolated place, without been seen, repeating the same chants and prayers seven times a day, starting at 4 in the morning until 8 in the evening, in the depth of the cold winter and the relative warmth of the summer. And then on Monday I visited the monastery of Bolton Abbey in Kildare, a place I had not seen for over 10 years. Again, the same monks, the same liturgy, even though years have passed.  A continuity across miles and across years.

The founder of Western monasticism, Saint Benedict, placed an emphasis on this capacity to stay put.  He saw in the latin word “stabilitas” –  to be still, to stop, to persevere – a remedy for the troubles of his age, namely, insecurity, the movements of people, cultural and political upheavals. “Staying put” for Benedict meant that the person resisted the temptation to move from idea to new idea, and instead remained in the monastery where they had entered long enough to put down roots in order to grow and bear fruit. Perhaps he can teach us something today in this similar age, with the added distraction of increased communication and media. Many people today have lost their points of reference, and have little sense of community or family. Commitment is often presented as against personal growth and rituals seen as stifling or boring.

Benedict was drawing attention to a psychological fact, the need to stay put, to not run away or move when we come face to face with our internal restlessness.  He echoes the psychological wisdom found in the Desert Fathers who said frequently that the first work we had to do was to learn to stay, and quieten the mind in this manner. As Abba Moses replied simply when a visitor requested some novel, wise words “Go into your room and sit there, and your room will teach you all you need to know”. There is no substitute for learning to befriend ourselves. There is some link between calming the body’s desire for novelty and movement and calming the mind.

These words are not far from those we find in meditation teachers from a different tradition today. The basic  practice which we return to each day is taking our seat and staying there. Slowly it settles the mind. Gradually something is transformed in us and an interior peace can grow. We come face to face with our deep interior confusion, but we decide not to run away. It worked in the time of Saint Benedict and for those monks in the quiet valley of Tamie and the plains of Kildare.  It can also work for us in our restless age with its desire for novelty and 15 minutes of fame.

 

Doing things quietly

File:Footprints in sand.jpg

I’m just sick of ego, ego, ego. My own and everybody else’s. I’m sick of everybody that wants to get somewhere, do something distinguished and all, be somebody interesting. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody. I’m sick of myself and everybody else that wants to make some kind of a splash.

J.D. Salinger, Franny and Zooey

photo Júlio Reis