It’s a resting place for the mind: cool and clear breaths, coming in through the nostrils. Feel the subtle movements of the clean air brushing against the nostrils. The exhalations come out through the diaphragm and cause the whole body to breathe out any stale air. And this is a refuge. There is nothing simpler than watching the breaths. There is nothing more vital to life. It is just a choice, not to concentrate awareness, but to make awareness so relaxed and clear that it is easy to let go of everything. And then the breath is a natural focus point, not compulsive or forced.
One of the participants in today’s
meditation class compared the first sitting to holding up a big round shield to
thoughts. Rather than allowing the thoughts to naturally come in, the shield
tries to shut out thoughts together. But later I explained another kind of
analogy: the thoughts are the clouds in a clear sky of mind. Rather than
treating thoughts as the enemy that need to be shut out of the mind, thoughts
are seen as merely clouds that come and go. And no matter how imposing and grim
the clouds might look, they cannot block or obstruct the nature of the sky
itself. No cloud can ever match the vastness and the unlimited nature of the
sky. No matter how many millions of clouds have passed through the sky, can one
say that the sky gets ‘tired’ of the clouds? Does the sky ever collapse because
the clouds are too heavy or there are ‘too many of them’? In fact, it’s the
nature of sky that it doesn’t even become blocked by the clouds. The clouds
simply pass through the medium of sky without bumping up against the sky’s
nature. I think this kind of analogy works for beginning meditation practice
because it is a good way of showing the difference between thoughts and
awareness. It is almost to show the kind of substance of awareness that makes
it more spacious than thoughts.
Once the participant had
understood the analogy and applied it to the second round of sitting,, she
described her thoughts as just ‘popping’ in and out of her mind. She started to
realize that she didn’t need to use mind to shield herself from thoughts
anymore. Rather, she allowed those thoughts to come up and disappear again, as
she rested her awareness on the basic function of the breath. I further related
an analogy I had recently read in The
Path of The Buddha which describes poison in an ocean. A drop of poison or
impurity in an ocean is not enough to affect the ocean itself. If one has
confidence that mind is the same way, the thoughts tend lose their poisonous
sting. In fact, no thoughts are
inherently dangerous. It’s the tendency to cling to thoughts in a compulsive or
protective way that tends to make the thoughts dangerous. At that point, they
produce specific outcomes which often seem beyond control. What is required is
a perspective of resting mind on mind itself, so that the thoughts are seen to
move and shift about in their own time. By having this standpoint to observe
thoughts moving in and out of the screen, the thoughts don’t seem so real. It
is as though one were watching a play and suddenly the stage starts to wobble
for no apparent reason. That tendency to wobble then causes the audience to
snap out of their rapture with the story being played out on stage. It reminds
people that this is just a scene in a play, and the mind needn't attach to the scenes in such a
sticky way that often happens in daily life.
The practical aspect of this is
hard to realize, because it sometimes seems too good to be true. When I am on
the subway and there is a teenage boy spreading his legs into the seat I occupy, what arises in mind? Maybe
irritation or some other feelings arise in mind. I could go on to say, “I don’t
want these kinds of thoughts; I want to have more peaceful, comfortable
thoughts, but not this kind of
unpleasant sensation.” But in doing that, I am reacting to the previous
thoughts I had regarding the situation. And this produces a lot of inner
turmoil. I first see the feelings and label them as “not good”, and then I look
for more pleasant thoughts and feelings to replace the “not good” feelings. In
fact, at every moment, each feeling is part of mind itself. But when I react, I
compare two different thoughts and prefer one thought to another. And this is
vexation, because I already tried to reject the previous thought. But if I
acknowledge that all these states are part of the same nature, do I need to
struggle against some states and seek others? This would be like trying to take
a painting and eliminate certain paints because I don’t feel they belong in
that painting. But of course, when I look at a painting, my role is simply to
see how the totality hangs together. It is not my role to take out paints
because I don’t happen to like them that day. Such a mentality is attachment,
and it is painful.
So when I go back to the
situation on the subway, what might ‘clear blue sky’ look like? I think it
might start by acknowledging that the feelings arising are part of the nature
of mind. But they are not a fixed characteristic of ‘me’. They are impermanent
and subject to any number of new conditions. So I can relate to them in a
softer and more tentative way, because I start to directly experience how they
are arising and where they might be going. And again, that direct awareness is
always tentative. It is not trying to create closure or conclusions. It is just
being with the situation as it unfolds without adding judgments. The more
purely I stay with the pain and not attach other thoughts and meanings to it,
the more provisional it looks, and the more it becomes an internal process. I
stop feeling suffering when I fully own that pain and not try to reject myself
for the pain.
References
The Path of the Buddha (1956) ed. Kenneth W. Morgan. New York: Ronald Press Company
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