During the meditation tonight, there was quite a noisy crowd outside celebrating a gathering. I tried to guide the participants by gently reminding them that the mind is neither still nor moving. What this means is that the mind can follow phenomena but in the end, it's not actually moving from one phenomena to the next. It is in this spirit that people can abide in phenomena but not believe that their minds are moving with it.
At the end of the session, one of the participants mentioned that it was actually easier for him to deal with the noise outside than that within. It was then that a thought came to mind. I verbalized it as "were you having a party in your mind while meditating?" The question was a bit ambiguous (not to mention humorous), but it could be looked at on many levels. Where do 'parties' really take place, after all? Are they events that happen between different minds, or is it only the sounds and sights of the (singular) mind? And who enjoys the sights and sounds? Is it a group of people somewhere 'out there', or is it really the mind's felt sense and expression?
Of course, there is a more emotional point to the question. I think the question has to do with how a person learns to enjoy experiences. If a person treats all the enjoyment of life as somehow 'outside' themselves (in the form of food or drinks), then that person will feel deprived or perhaps desiring of those things when they are taken away. If, on the other hand, one's mind is in a kind of repose all the time, then the 'party' is really happening on the inside, and there is no need for the external elements to enjoy life.
The group meditation practice is quite interesting, I am finding. It is sometimes very noisy and sometimes very quiet; sometimes eventful and sometimes routine; sometimes full and sometimes empty. Could all those people outside the room tonight have been fellow practitioners in some form who are there simply to help the practitioners to find some new way of practicing? Perhaps, but only if one sees that their actions are impermanent. I recited Loving Kindness Meditation toward the end of the practice, and I found that the noises peaked and then suddenly died down as quickly as they arose. It is as though all the rowdy energy had exhausted itself, and the party folks decided it was time to go someplace else, and so they all left at once! Now how did that work? It didn't really have anything to do with 'working' or 'not working'. When I was able to recite Loving Kindness Meditation to the point where the sounds no longer affected me that much, the sounds found a way to settle and disappear. It's a mystery, but it seems that whenever a phenomena is gently and unreservedly held in clear, unattached awareness, it has a way of manifesting into impermanence. It is as though the mind has cleared a path for the phenomena to turn to Dharma.
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