Sometimes we find that we like our thoughts so much
that we don’t want to let them go
A samurai, a very proud warrior, came to see a Zen Master one day. The samurai was very famous, but looking at the beauty of the Master and the grace of the moment, he suddenly felt inferior.
He said to the Master, “Why am I feeling inferior? Just a moment ago everything was okay. As I entered your court suddenly I felt inferior. I have never felt like that before. I have faced death many times, and I have never felt any fear — why am I now feeling frightened?”
The Master said, “Come outside.”
It was a full moon night, the moon was just rising on the horizon. And he said, “Look at these trees. This tree is high in the sky and this small one beside it. They both have existed beside my window for years, and there has never been any problem. The smaller tree has never said to the big tree, ‘Why do I feel inferior before you?’ This tree is small, and that tree is big — why have I never heard a whisper of it?”
The samurai said, “Because they can’t compare.”
The Master replied, “Then you need not ask me. You know the answer.”
Zen Parable
The goal of attention, or shamatha, practice is to become aware of awareness. Awareness is the basis, or what you might call the “support,” of the mind. It is steady and unchanging, like the pole to which the flag of ordinary consciousness is attached. When we recognize and become grounded in awareness, the “wind” of emotion may still blow. But instead of being carried away by the wind, we turn our attention inward, watching the shifts and changes with the intention of becoming familiar with that aspect of consciousness that recognizes Oh, this is what I’m feeling, this is what I’m thinking. As we do so, a bit of space opens up within us. With practice, that space—which is the mind’s natural clarity—begins to expand and settle.
Yongey Mingpur Rinpoche
In mindfulness meditation we learn to be present for things as they are. In doing so, it can be useful to assume the attitude of a naturalist. A naturalist simply observes nature without interfering or imposing his or her views. If a wolf eats a deer, a naturalist watches without judgment. If a plant produces a stunningly beautiful blossom, a naturalist leaves it alone, not succumbing to the desire to take it home.
In meditation, we observe ourselves much as a naturalist observes nature: without repressing, denying, grasping, or defending anything. This means that we observe our life with a non-interfering presence. We can see anger, depression, fear, happiness, joy, pain, and pleasure directly, as they are, without complications. The naturalist’s perspective is one of respect for what is observed. The word “re-spect” is a nice synonym for mindfulness practice because it literally means to look again.
By cultivating a naturalist’s perspective during meditation, it is possible to develop a capacity to be non-reactive. For this non-reactive perspective, we can more easily explore how to respond wisely to whatever circumstances we find ourselves in.
Gil Fronsdal
Another post on working with the past. Typically, after tidying the garden over the weekend, the wind rose last night and scattered bins, leaves, twigs and nests, reminding us – and the birds – that it is not quite Summer, despite the warm temperatures. And coincidentally, the reading for today in Mark Nepo’s lovely book The Book of Awakening is about damage and hurt in our lives, so I thought I would share it here. Dealing with the past sometimes means moving on and letting go and at other times means healing what has been wounded or repairing what has been broken:
Stones loosened by storms cover paths, and uprooted trees break newly formed nests, and crisis after crisis throws us into each other. It is inevitable. Stay alive and you will be hurt, and you will also hurt others. Unintended hurt is as common as branches snapped in wind. But it is the unacknowledged hurt that becomes a wound.
Being human, we are subject to many ancient and powerful opposites found in life. Among those that impact us constantly are light and dark, yes and no, and especially fear and peace. For it is out of fear that we feel the need to isolate ourselves or to control others, and it is often in the act of elevating ourselves that we hurt one another, not to mention ourselves.
Still, as no one in daily life is exempt from both sleeping and waking, no one can escape feeling both fear and peace, and so, no one can escape being both hurtful and loving. But the world is kept whole by those who can overcome their fear, however briefly. The blood of life itself is kept vital by those who can simply and bravely repair their separations, time and time again.