In her book Being with Dying: Fearlessness in the Presence of Death (2008), Joan Halifax describes meditation practice using an interesting and very pithy line: "Just Show Up". Halifax maintains that accepting one's own pain is crucial to being with others as they face illness and death. While reading Halifax, I started to think about the beauty of just showing up with our pain, our inner processes, and our own long walks through life. Halifax has this to say about the process of just showing up:
I sometimes say that our monastery in Santa Fe should have a slogan hanging over the gate: "Show Up". That's all we have to do when we meditate--just show up. We bring ourselves and all of our thoughts and feelings to the practice of being with whatever is, whether we are tired, angry, fearful, grieving, or just plain resistant and unwilling. It really doesn't matter what we're feeling; we just come to the temple and sit down. (xviii)
But there is another element to this acceptance that arose as I was doing meditation practice tonight. I think it relates to how acceptance ties into devotion, and how the two co-exist in a kind of mutual relation. Simple acceptance ("just show up") is certainly a crucial part of meditation, and is a key part of letting go and not seeking a result from the meditation practice. However, without a kind of faith and devotion to the method of practice itself, it would be difficult for acceptance to be anchored in an experience. To take an example: if I sit with pain and allow the thoughts to spontaneously arise, it won't take long before I get caught up in thoughts of resisting pain, or wondering what the purpose is in sitting. Without the context of a relationship to the meditative method, acceptance can become rudderless and not grounded in any principle.
One of the most interesting things about "relationship" stories is how they embody the process of growing a relationship through patience, open-mindedness and growing 'into' the other. Hugh Prather wrote about this in Notes to Myself, where he describes his resistance to petting the dog after a tiring day. Prather suggests that when he is truly patient with the unfolding moment, he stops wanting that particular moment with himself and the dog to be any other way. It's through this total acceptance that Prather learns to enjoy being with the dog, even when it may not be the ideal of where he wants to be in that moment. Relationship stories are often miraculous in the sense that they show this opening up to the unexpected and allowing the energy between two beings to run a natural course.
The 'devotion' aspect of the practice has to do with the decision to stay on the cushion, as well as the process of returning to the anchoring element of the practice--be it the breath, chanting, huatou, etc. I can only describe this process as an act of love. It's no wonder that practice is often referred to as 'cultivation', because staying with that method is very much like watering a seed or nurturing the soil. I am afraid that without the element of directing toward the method, acceptance lacks a foundation or a principle, and it easily can go into torpor or a lack of direction. And I also believe that an attitude of simple devotion, of 'returning back' to the method, gives acceptance the added meaning that it is enriching a relation to the practice.
Halifax, Joan (2008), Being with Dying: Fearlessness in the Presence of Death. Boston, MA: Shamhala
Prather, Hugh (1970). Notes to Myself. Lafayette, CA: Real People Press
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