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Enlightenment is a wonderful idea.
This is the seed out of which grows our dedication
to a whole body/mind training.
It can take a long time before we find out what the real point of
Buddhist practice is. There are innumerable doctrines, beliefs and
techniques in this Way, but none of them is an end in itself. All of
them are included in an overall training which is called cittabhavana,
or 'the training of the heart'. The word citta is variously rendered in
translation as 'heart', 'awareness', and sometimes as 'consciousness'.
Bhavana literally means 'to bring into being'. So cittabhavana can also
be translated as 'cultivation of awareness'. This subject is obviously
central both to what you are doing here as psychotherapists and to what
we are doing in our monastic training, so I am glad that we have this
opportunity to consider it together.
It is easy, as I said, for us to take quite some time before we get the
core message that awareness itself is what we are working on. It is very
important that we do come to see that all the different skilful means
offered in Buddhism are in reference to this.
Back in the 1960s and '70s many of us were out in Asia looking for
something that we hoped would fill up an emptiness we felt we had inside
- an inner sense of lacking.
In keeping with our expectations, we found a large variety of systems
and substances, some more helpful than others. Buddhist monasteries and
teachers were amongst what we came across. What we thought they were
offering was this wonderful idea of enlightenment.
We were tremendously inspired and believed this meant that if at some
time in the future we fully grasped this idea, then we would be free
from any sense of lacking for ever more; we would be free from suffering
altogether. We were tending to approach what we found there in the same
way that we approached our everyday life, that is, as consumers: "How
can I become enlightened? What must I do to get this freedom from
suffering?"
I heard a story of a young Westerner travelling around Southeast Asia
who was particularly concerned that he didn't join up with anything but
the best tradition and so he proceeded to go from teacher to teacher
conducting interviews with them. He asked each one in turn the question,
"What was the Buddha doing under the Bodhi tree?" I imagine he planned
to compare all the answers and then make his choice. Each teacher
naturally replied from their own perspective. The first, a Japanese
teacher living in Bodhgaya, said, "Oh, the Buddha was doing shikantaza."
Then another teacher said, "The Buddha was definitely practising
anapanasati." Another replied, "The Buddha was doing dzogchen." And
further, "The Buddha was sitting in vipassana meditation." When this
seeker visited Thailand and asked Ajahn Chah what the Buddha was doing
under the Bodhi tree, Ajahn Chah replied: "Everywhere the Buddha went he
was under the Bodhi tree. The Bodhi tree was a symbol for his Right
View."
Whenever I recall this story, I like what it does to me. There is a
turning around of attention and a remembering of the essential point of
our practice. I find myself returning to the heart of the matter, or to
the only place where I can make the kind of effort that brings about a
difference.
Of course it is understandable that we don't get it altogether right in
the beginning and spend energy holding on to an initial idea about
becoming enlightened. These ideas are the seeds which grow into a fuller
way of practice. However, we do need to recognise that what is on offer
in this Way is a complete training in awareness - not just an idea. We
take up the training as we would take up an invitation; in this case an
invitation to assume our own true place within our body/minds. The
Buddha's path of training isn't a mere conditioning aimed at fitting us
into anybody else's form or anybody else's understanding.
AWARENESS
Awareness as Capacity
The model I find helpful in contemplating our training is that of
awareness as capacity. Our experiences are all received into awareness.
How well or how freely we receive life is dependent on our hearts'
capacity; or, we could say, on the degree of awareness we are living as.
With this model, we can examine exactly how, where and when we set the
limitations on our capacity to receive experience, what the limitations
we place on awareness are, and what this feels like.
One of the chants which we regularly recite in the monastery says:
appamano Buddho, appamano Dhammo, appamano Sangho. The word appamana
translates as 'without measure'. So this verse means: "Limitless is the
Buddha, limitless is the Dhamma, limitless is the Sangha." One way of
seeing what was unlimited about the Buddha is to look at his quality of
awareness. The Buddha's heart capacity was boundless and accordingly he
could accommodate unlimited experience without the slightest stress. He
went beyond any compulsive tendency to set limitations on awareness and
so was untroubled by anything that passed through his awareness. Hence
we say, "I go for refuge to the Buddha"; or we orient all our conscious
effort towards the possibility of limitless awareness.
We know we need to do this if we want to awaken out of the agonising
sense of limited being. It is because we come up against the humiliating
experience of "This is just too much - I can't take any more" that we
have to train ourselves. We must understand what this 'I' is that finds
it all too much. Our experience of the present moment is not too much
for reality; reality is what's happening. The painful constriction we
feel is the symptom of the limitations we place on awareness. This pain
is the appropriate consequence of our habitual grasping.
Seeing it from this perspective, we realise that placing limitations is
something we are responsible for doing. Our cramped hearts are not
imposed on us. We come to see that we are not helpless victims of our
conditioning. I'm always surprised when people tell me, "This is just
the way I'm made," as if it's somebody else's fault for getting the
design wrong. Working with a model of awareness as capacity, we discover
(literally, 'un-cover') potential for change. With constant careful
attention in this area there begins to dawn a quiet confidence in a way
that we can cultivate.
Paying Attention
In the world of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, sensations and mental
impressions we have no choice but to receive sense-impingement.
Regardless of our lifestyle, be it as monk or nun or psychotherapist or
any other occupation, we are all touched by the world of the senses. And
these impressions are either received or not received. If we are rigid
in our holding to the perception of ourselves as inherently limited in
our ability to receive, then we feel put upon by the struggle; we feel
obstructed. But to contemplate the possibility of opening and expanding
our heart's capacity takes us beyond the feeling of being obliged to
suffer.
If we make a discipline of paying attention to the very feeling of being
obliged to suffer, then we are being mindful of the dynamic that
actually creates the suffering. We are putting ourselves in the place
where we can undo the cause of the feeling of limitation. Our untrained
attention easily and understandably flows in the direction of being
interested in maximising on possibilities for pleasure. It is natural
for the sensual side of our character to want to follow what the senses
appear to tell us is the best way to increased well-being - that is, if
it feels good then take it; if it feels bad, reject it. But from our
life experience we know that we need to look deeper than that. This is
not to pass judgement but to accord with reality. Nobody is forcing us
to look deeper, but if we don't then we remain more troubled by life's
struggles than we have to be.
Here we see why there is an emphasis on suffering in Buddhism. Right
attention paid at the right time and place shows what it is we are doing
to maintain the felt perception of limited being. If we realise that we
are responsible for doing this then we also realise we can choose to
not-do it. What a relief!
So how we approach our struggles is our own choice. For example, in
regard to body, suppose one day one of us discovers a painful, sensitive
lump beneath an armpit. It is likely that to some degree we would rather
not know about it. But we are all aware of the dangerous consequences of
avoiding that kind of sign. Something within knows that pain is an
organismic message calling for attention. If we offer it the suitable
response of interest then further damage might be avoided. If we don't,
then maybe the volume of the message will have to increase.
In our practice of training for awareness we learn to read heart-pain in
the same way as we would interpret bodily symptoms. Heart-pain indicates
that there is something which for some reason we are avoiding and to
which we are not paying proper attention. Later it may be seen as a
nudge towards awareness, but it begins in shock and suffering. Remember
how it was for the Buddha when he first encountered old age, sickness
and death.
Heeding this summons to attention and feeling inwardly, not turning away
from the pain that is involved, we are able to witness the resistance we
have. When we recognise what it is that we are doing we come to see the
suffering for what it is. If our attention is careful, caring and
well-informed enough, an easing of the holding to limited capacity
occurs and a new understanding appears in its place. We then receive an
unexpected affirmation which says that, for every increase in our
capacity to receive life, there is a corresponding increase in
discernment itself.
The ability to see clearly and feel accurately is already there in our
open-heartedness. It is only the compulsive setting up and maintaining
of restrictions on ourselves that creates obstructions. The larger
capacity of heart already has within it what we are looking for. Our
difficulty is that we prefer not to have to go through the doorway of
fear and struggle to enter that larger reality. Yet all our efforts to
become wise and compassionate by merely reading and strategising our
lives leave us feeling self-centred and frustrated. Hence, there is
great value in the encouragement we give each other in applying
ourselves to the careful cultivation of this kind of training.
Judgement-free Awareness
In working to go beyond habitual or ignorant existence, we will at some
stage be called to look at just how it is that we find a personal sense
of security - our identity. For all of us this arises to some degree by
taking a position for or against what is happening. We recognise this as
feeling safe when we know where we stand in relation to an experience we
are having or some issue that is presented to us. This ability to secure
ourselves by discriminating is a normal disposition for us, but only
suitable up to a certain point. When this discriminating faculty takes
over and becomes who and what we are, we have a big problem. It means we
can never be free from taking sides, from agreeing and disagreeing even
in subtle ways, and that keeps our minds busy. Accordingly, we are never
simply aware of the activity of our minds. Our wish to abide in quiet
investigation ends up as a struggle with resistance and confusion.
We can find help in this area if we consider the consequences of the
kind of messages we were given early on in life about what represents
Ultimate Reality. For instance, what is the effect if the idea didn't
get through that God is love, that the ultimate reality in all existence
is all-pervading, all-inclusive caring, but instead we got the idea that
God is a Being who eternally accepts and rejects according to some
agenda that we have no say in - that there is an Omnipotent Being who is
taking some up and sending some down - for ever? The effect is that the
highest aspect of our psyche is continuously discriminating and we are
effectively locked into a process that is inherently frustrating. We are
in a state of chronic stress.
There is no possibility of freedom in such a conditioned view. It is
very important to examine this. Imagine what happens, for example, if we
are tired or unwell and not in touch with much compassion. If an
habitual taking sides for good and against bad is dominating then we
can't receive ourselves in that state. All we do is act out of a
chronically judging mind: "I shouldn't be this way." Habitually seeking
an identity by holding a view for or against keeps us locked into or
bonded to an imaginary programme that is ultimately right. But what is
right about it?
Finding identity by seeking security in the conditioned activity of our
minds can be contrasted with the spiritual path of finding well-being
and identity in awareness itself. Those who are committed to awakening
move beyond a search for security in a personal identity born out of
fixed views and opinions; they move through the insecure and unfamiliar
world of not knowing where they stand, and eventually reach non-judgemental
awareness. If we don't have to know who we are or be assured we are
right, but can rather receive, in freedom of awareness, how this moment
is manifesting, we leave behind our ad-diction to certainty, with its
predictability and limited possibility. Our lives enter a different mode
altogether. We don't have to have guarantees that our group is the best
or that everything will turn out all right. We can tolerate uncertainty
- and that is wonderfully liberating. We find the possibility of being
able to accord with all the activity of our totally uncertain world
without being driven heedlessly into taking sides. The discovery is a
welcome one.
Awareness and its Activity
As our investigation continues, we arrive at a point of seeing how all
the picking and choosing activity going on is simply activity taking
place in awareness. During the first interview I had with my first
teacher in Thailand, the Venerable Ajahn Thate, I was told that my task
was to learn to see the difference between the activity taking place in
awareness and awareness itself. End of interview!
This instruction still underlies all my practice. I feel very fortunate
to have had such clear, simple guidance. The suggestion this teaching
gives us lifts us out of believing we are the activity that is taking
place. We can grow into seeing all the content of our minds, including
the picking and choosing and evaluating and so on, as the natural waves
that pass across the ocean of awareness that is our life. We are
positively disinclined to struggle with what arises within us. Instead,
we know that the judging mind is just so. It is natural activity - no
blame; no taking a position for or against the judging mind or any
activity. If we are aware of the inclination to grasp onto a view about
what we see, we remember, 'no judging the judging mind'. We have to get
quite subtle about it.
Abiding as awareness, wise reflection is energised and inspired. And it
is this very awareness which in turn gradually dissolves our false
identity as inherently limited, conditioned beings. In terms of
training, we commit ourselves to a practice of mindfulness of the felt
perception of 'struggle'. If we can remember to be conscious of the
struggle that is taking place in any given moment and then further
remember to not-judge the struggle, we find ourselves elevated into an
awareness that already has in it the understanding and sensitivity that
brings about letting go. Letting go happens; it is not something we do.
Rather, it is conditioned by our not-doing - our not taking a position
for or against. The way forward then becomes clear.
In my opinion, we don't get very far in practice as meditators or as
psychotherapists until we are well-acquainted with the reality of
not-judging. Without access to it we simply won't have the inner space
to hold the intensity of dilemma with which a life committed to
transformation will most certainly challenge us. If we do know the
non-judgmental mind, then we know the place of resolution, the place of
spontaneity, of creativity, of intelligence. This is where what we are
looking for already exists. Until we enter this dimension, all our wise
words will be mere imitation. When we speak we will always be quoting
others.
The Factor of Agility
As we continue our cultivation of the Way there will be times when we
become unduly comfortable with a particular orientation to practice. If
we are not sufficiently alert to notice how this is happening we could
fall into a feeling of mediocrity; we become bored. So we are encouraged
to develop the agility of attention to be able to move in and out of
contrasting environments. We avoid staying only in areas in which we
know we can operate well. This applies equally to our inner world and
our outer life.
One way of understanding how the principle of contrast brings deepening
is to observe how children learn and develop. Parents give their
children contrasting experiences, colours and objects which stimulate
the growth of intelligence. Without an appropriate input of contrasting
experience, children lose their propensity for imagination through
repetition and the blandness of familiar routines: they are likely to
become dull.
We could also ponder on what the conventional wisdom contained in the
saying 'a change is as good as a rest' might be. The feeling of being
refreshed from significantly changing what we are doing - even if it
isn't to something we particularly like - arises because we break out of
the mode of predictability that we had become used to. When we change
what we are doing, we are energised by our own interest and natural
enthusiasm. We already have plenty of energy - flare-ups of passion show
us that - but because we become overly familiar with the patterns of our
lives rigidity sets in and we lose contact with our energy source.
Submitting ourselves to contrasting influences gives us new access to
our natural energy. If we don't understand this dynamic we may believe
that we are actually lacking, and go endlessly looking for new
stimulation.
We need to contemplate our own condition until we find for ourselves how
interest and vitality are generated. In our monastery recently, a
photographer friend came to take pictures for next year's calendar. His
work is beautiful and very much admired for the richness and depth he
manages to produce. The primary element for bringing about that richness
is contrast.
If we follow our usual tendencies to stay where we feel safe and avoid
challenges out of a suspicion of inadequacy, mediocrity is inevitable.
Even if we try treating ourselves to stimulations and distractions for a
while, we know that this is not the Way. By contemplating the principle
of contrast in practice we encourage ourselves to go into situations
where we don't feel safe because we are interested and we want to be
awake.
I heard a well-known English judo master speak once about how he was
given instruction by his teacher. The teacher noticed that his student
was winning all the tournaments by executing a particular throw and that
he always used his right side. So the teacher told him he had to stop
using his right side for one year. A series of humiliating defeats
followed but eventually the student developed the skill of performing
his winning throw using his left side. At this point the wisdom of the
teacher was recognised. So long as he could only throw from the right he
was vulnerable and it was just a matter of time before someone else
discovered his weakness and caught him out; but now, with the agility of
being able to come from either side, he was unbeatable.
Most of us don't have the good fortune to live with a watchful master
who observes our tendencies to become imbalanced by our emphasis on our
good sides, so we have to observe ourselves. And this is where we need
the skill of inner agility. The formal Buddhist Teaching in this area is
known as The Four Foundations of Mindfulness (Satipatthana). Without
going into these teachings thoroughly at this time, it is good to refer
to them. The instruction presented is a detailed description of the
techniques and benefits of establishing mindfulness in four areas:
mindfulness of body (kayanupasanna); mindfulness of feeling
(vedananupasanna); mindfulness of the mind or heart itself
(cittanupasanna); mindfulness regarding the laws or patterns of reality
that pertain to the Way of Awakening (dhammanupasanna). The discourses
given by the Buddha on this subject form the foundation of all the
teachings in the meditation tradition of the Theravada school of
Buddhism. Agility of attention, inner and outer, is held in the highest
position in the hierarchy of skills to be developed.
TRAINING
Training as 'According with'
Now let's turn to talking specifically about training. I use this word
not in the sense, for instance, of training a parrot to talk, which is
better considered as conditioning, but in the way of giving a direction
to something that is moving. At the centre of the cluster of buildings
that comprise our monastery, there is a garden dedicated to the memory
of the late Venerable Ajahn Chah. In the centre of the garden there is a
stupa (reliquary) containing relics of our teacher, and this stupa sits
in a beautiful small pond. To keep the pond fresh and filled up, the
rain water from the roof of the adjacent Meditation Hall is gathered and
'trained' to flow towards the stupa. Behind the stupa there is a
variegated ivy growing and I am trying to train it to climb the wall.
Anyone who does gardening knows that this kind of training can only work
if it is in the nature of the plant to go that way. Right training must
accord with the true nature of that which is being trained. And this
training does most definitely mean going against our unruly nature. Some
gardeners might prefer wildness, which I understand. But if we follow
the way of undirected, untrained wildness in the area of human passions,
we cause a lot of suffering for ourselves and others. So we willingly
give ourselves into a training.
Whole-Being Training
If it is Buddhist training it must involve body, speech and mind. When
we look at our present quality of life, we should see it as the result
of our past actions (kamma). Our being is conditioned by actions of body
(kayakamma), actions of speech (vacikamma) and actions of mind
(manokamma). Bringing our passionate nature into line with the path of
realisation must involve all of our being. Many of our formal rituals
are aimed at elevating awareness of these three dimensions. As we bow in
front of the Buddha image we are lowering our bodily form in an
acknowledgement of our experience of limitation. With our body we are
saying 'I', as separate ego, willingly submit myself to the 'way of what
is', in contrast to the stiff-necked "I can handle it, I don't need
anybody" kind of attitude. And as we offer candles and incense to the
Triple Gem, we perform with our body gestures of respect and gratitude,
which bring into relief the self-oriented activity of our lives that is
always taking from the world for 'me'. Similarly, as we recite the
morning and evening chanting, we utter words that resonate with the
deepest aspects of our hearts. By intentionally acting with body and
speech in the form of regular ritual, we are reminded of where the real
responsibility for our actions lies.
Mindfully engaging each other in dialogue on matters of truth also
serves to cultivate a felt sense of the significance of training. It is
encouraging to see that more and more people are wanting to meet to
support each other in this way.
If we don't train, then, like the water off the roof that never reaches
the pond but merely seeps away, so the precious passion of our hearts
fails to enliven our commitment to the Way.
Wanting to Train
If training accords with the true nature of that which is being trained,
there is an ease, even if at times we feel challenged. Training is
challenging because it is not what 'I' want. But then, when does 'I'
ever truly get what it wants? Is it possible for this separate 'I' to be
genuinely contented? No! Because, by being identified as the activity of
wanting and not as awareness itself, we are compelled to feel always
busy. When we understand this then we start wanting to train. And such
wanting is essential. The meditation master Venerable Ajahn Mahabua,
when asked, "What is the place of desire for liberation in this Way?",
replied that it is the Way. When we fully want to submit ourselves to a
training because we long to go beyond a sense of cramped limitation,
then the interest and creativity that we will need for the task ahead
becomes available to us.
If hearing talks or reading books about practice inspires us to take up
training, then that is good. But we need to know that we are doing it
because we want to do it. It is only from this perspective that we can
learn from what our own discernment faculty has to tell us. If we are
imitating someone else's practice, then we are compromising this
faculty. We need to assess, as we proceed, if this way is our way.
Entering into training is like entering a mountain stream to bathe: we
wouldn't just dive in because it looks attractive. Maybe it's only a
foot deep and we would be badly hurt. It's better to go carefully,
feeling our way until we are confident about what we are getting
ourselves into.
Sometimes people have a problem in this area of wholeheartedly wanting
to progress in their training, because Buddhist Teachings so insistently
call attention to the fact that suffering is rooted in desire. Such
people jump to the conclusion that to want anything at all is not the
Way. This is very unfortunate. As we know, where there is desire there
is energy. If because of some ill-informed assumptions about desire we
disown this energy, then who is taking responsibility for it? Who is
taking care of it if we aren't? It doesn't just go away because we don't
think it's a good idea. The last thing that the world needs is for more
heedlessness around desire. What does help, though, is to know what we
want more than anything else. I am suggesting the reason that we take up
this training is because we want to find out what this is.
At Ratanagiri Monastery, we have a regular meeting on Sunday nights at
which the local Buddhists like to gather for chanting, meditation and
discussion. We begin with the recitation of the Three Refuges and Five
Precepts. For a long time this took place with very little volume, until
one day it occurred to me that they sounded embarrassed about doing it.
I asked if we should stop; but no, they wanted to continue with it. So I
suggested that unless the group were feeling apologetic about wanting to
do it, we should shout the recitation out. These days we don't exactly
shout, but there is a good strong communal voice resonating around the
Hall, reaffirming our determination to offer ourselves into the
training.
The need to know that we are doing our own practice stays with us. We
can easily become habituated to the training forms that we have acquired
and because of this they cease to work for us. However, if these forms
are rightly grasped then they enthuse and energise us. So we keep
checking to see if we are doing it because we want to. When we reach a
point of genuinely wanting to train, we can enjoy practice much more.
Obviously, there will be times when we feel like we don't want to do it
anymore. If we have cultivated the skilful habit of inquiring of
ourselves, with interest, as to what motivates our actions, when this
feeling of not-wanting arises we will be in the best place to find out
whether or not we really don't want to do it. Superficially, our desires
come and go, conditioned by many different casual concerns; but at the
deepest level, as Buddhism sees it, all beings want to be free. So if we
look long enough, we will penetrate beyond the not-wanting and remember
what we are in this for.
A Long-Enduring Mind
Having a thoroughly conscious commitment to the training is also very
important. As with anything, cultivation of the Way takes time. In the
Chinese Buddhist tradition they have a teaching that says there are
three requisites for the Way to prosper: Great Faith, Great Doubt and a
Long-Enduring Mind. Living with an underlying faith that is highlighted
by an ever-changing and challenging counterpoint of doubt generates the
energy that undoes our rigid habits. But if our practice is tainted by
wrongly-held expectations based on getting what 'I' want, then the very
same energy that has been liberated can feed the ego-rigidity making it
even less workable - we end up worse off than if we had never begun
practice. So the Chinese Buddhists take a vow to continue the same path
of practice, without alteration, for however many lifetimes it takes
them to awaken. For someone who firmly believes in the life-after-life
transmigration through the six realms of existence, this vow effectively
relaxes expectations.
As long as we are demanding that we get what 'I' want out of the
training, we strengthen the obstructions. Just to contemplate this will
help us change how we relate to the expectations that we have clung to
so dearly for so long. Real training supports us in releasing
expectations and refreshing our effort continually.
We all have a problem with keeping effort fresh. Simply going through
the routine of doing formal practice is not enough. A few decades ago
out in Asia we were quick to criticise what we saw as pointless
superstitious carry-on, like the waving of incense in front of golden
Buddhas. Yet our sitting meditation can be the same. If we aren't doing
it with freshness it becomes pointless carry-on; in fact, it's worse
than pointless. If we are not fully involved with all our body, heart
and mind in meditation, then we can be compounding the already
established patterns of limitation. How unfortunate!
For it to be the profound and radical ritual that meditation can truly
be, we need to remember what we have to do to keep our effort fresh and
alive. Whilst formal sitting is one valid way, there are other ways; we
need to re-examine the whole area of devotion and what it means to us.
It is almost certain that to imitate Asian devotional practices will not
work, but it is vitally important to find out what does work. Actually,
in my experience, developing a devotional practice of a daily offering
of incense to the shrine is tremendously helpful in sustaining spiritual
aliveness. I might not sit meditation on some days but I almost never
omit my devotional efforts.
FREE TO SUFFER
It is by remembering what brought us to training, and remembering to
rediscover right effort moment by moment, that clear understanding of
the functioning of awareness dawns on us. With this new dawning of the
inherent value and beauty of awareness, a new letting go of the security
of old familiar identities occurs; even letting go of the idea of
becoming better or developing ourselves - even letting go of the idea of
enlightenment. We now value this clear-seeing so highly that we are
positively disinclined to settle for anything less.
There can even be a letting go of the preoccupation with the idea of
becoming free from suffering. We are more interested now in how
accurately we are meeting any suffering in this moment. We begin to find
our security and well-being in the freedom to suffer: "Can I suffer and
remain free at the same time?" Our interest in cultivating awareness has
brought us full circle to discover not freedom from suffering but a vast
capacity to suffer. This vast capacity to suffer is the vast compassion
we are all looking for. How fortunate it would be for the world if there
were more beings around with such compassion.
Thank you for the opportunity to look into these matters.
______________________________________________
Questioner: I tend to become uncomfortably self-conscious when I make an
effort to be aware. Presumably this becomes less as one progresses.
Ajahn Munindo: Even when what we give ourselves into is wholesome and
suitable, we end up struggling because of our compulsive trying. It can
be helpful to see the extent to which our Western-style will-power is
disfigured and disfiguring. Whatever we wilfully attempt is distorted;
it is interfered with by our trying too hard. There is nothing wrong
with this, it just hurts, that's all. And to find the way to transform
that hurt into genuine well-being I always turn to the power of
non-judgemental awareness. If we are able to receive freely the pain of
our self-consciousness, that is, without taking sides and following
ideas of how things should and shouldn't be regarding this felt pain, we
do arrive at a larger reality. In that openness is the understanding of
how to proceed with a purified quality of effort.
Actually, if our suffering is intense enough and our commitment to the
Way whole-bodied and wholehearted enough, we might have the good fortune
of sinking deeply into despair, and at that place remembering what we
have been talking about today; that is, how the judging-mind is
complicit in what is happening. We enquire, "Where am I finding
identity? Am I still taking a position for or against, or am I free to
feel what I feel in this moment?" I say this is good fortune, because if
we do remember this deeply at the level of intensity to which were
brought by despair, the silent understanding that arises at that depth
will serve to undermine a lot of our false thinking and holding.
Q: My problem is that sometimes when relating with others a tension
seems to develop from trying to stay aware within myself at the same
time as attending to that which is happening on the outside.
A. M.: If someone comes to us in a state of distress asking for our
attention then, obviously, if we are able to offer attention we should.
If we still don't trust ourselves not to get caught up in our own inner
reactions, we have to acknowledge that that is the case. And we must
know that that means we have some work to do on ourselves. However, the
time of attending to another is not the best time to do the work on
ourselves. Yes, in some sense these two go together, but it is a matter
of degree.
A regular, daily, formal practice of meditation, or whatever one wants
to call the exercise of conscious remembering, can also support us in
this. As Buddhists we recognise the value of regularity in both formal
and daily-life practice. What we are called to attend to in our daily
activity is varied and complex, but a formal daily sitting dedicated to
doing nothing - except releasing out of all tendencies to take sides -
has profound benefit. As we sensitively look into the very movement of
preference as it is taking place, we begin to see beyond it. Whatever
compulsive judging is mixed up with the activity, regardless of what the
content of that activity might be, we simply notice it and remember, "No
judging the judging-mind." If there is still judging, then we apply our
contemplation to that, and keep falling back into freer and freer
perspectives. We continue releasing, releasing, releasing our
identification with the judgement, until there is just the activity of
the mind simply as it is; or maybe there is no activity at all. But
without a regular effort to sit still, ideally at about the same time
each day, I feel we might be disadvantaged in finding the kind of
totally trusting relationship with ourselves that we hope for; a
relationship whereby we can forget ourselves and simply attend.
Q: You have talked about being opened up by suffering. I have heard that
in the Buddhist Teachings there are two ways: this way and the way of
bliss or ecstasy. The latter, I'm told, makes more use of celebration
and joy.
A. M.: Yes, I have heard about the idea of two ways as well. This might
be true, but I haven't seen any evidence of it myself. Deep opening does
involve both suffering and joy but I'm not sure they are separate ways.
The doorways we must go through always look to me to be daunting and
they always involve suffering. To approach these doorways definitely
requires a strong sense of well-being and a balanced confidence, but
grasping the handle is frightening.
Once we actually begin to move out of the room of limited possibility,
through the narrow doorway, then we experience bliss and we enter upon a
larger awareness which is our new life. At this time we feel relieved
and have a wonderful sense that this will do us fine. We are pleased
with ourselves - at least for a while. Then our commitment to a training
of body, speech and mind prompts us to recall our deepest interest in
the possibility of limitless awareness; not just somewhat expanded
awareness. We keep going for refuge to Reality and this leads us to
finding another doorway and another and another; and we keep going
through the trepidation over and over again. In my experience, what
changes is an increased willingness to go through with it. Right
training is about finding this increased willingness.
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