When I came back from this 3 day meditation retreat, I noticed that I hardly had any desire to read the books I was so compelled to read in my "to do list". I wonder what the reason is. Could it be that after 3 days of not reading any books, the craving abates somewhat? I think a more plausible explanation is that when I have meditated for a while, I recognize that one's existential problems in life cannot be resolved through words alone, let alone conceptual thinking. In fact, when enduring even the tiniest leg pain, no amount of philosophizing is going to get me to the stage of really seeing problems as they are: looking at the problems head on, rather than trying to skirt those problems through easy fixes or evasions.
This past retreat was lead by Venerable GuoYuan. In the first two days of the retreat (Friday and Saturday), I had a hard time adjusting my body, feeling all sorts of deficiencies and imbalances here and there followed by the attempt to analyze these imbalances. Interestingly, many of my so-called "explanations" were rather counterproductive. For example, how does acknowledging lack of exercise actually helping me to face the pains in my body at that moment? Nonetheless, my first impulse has been to try to break the problem into parts, without acknowledging that the problem is already composed of so many interlocking factors (or conditions) which are likely to pass over time. And on the third day, I believe that they did indeed pass. Not only was my mind more rested and clear, but also my body felt more balanced. It didn't happen in any way because I "analyzed" the problem and found some kind of underlying "root" cause. Rather, it happened just in the process of me engaging with the experience itself, and letting go of any judgments I was having at the time.
The most important insight I gained from this particular retreat was the realization of how cravings come from a sense of self, and the way most problems deep inside are simply reflections on a false self: a self that somehow wants to be a wave "separate" from other waves. In reality, when I make a "problem" out of something, I am really separating myself from the flow of life. I create this "other" that I somehow need to oppose (such as drowsiness, wandering thoughts, etc). and am not able to see that there is neither a "self" in the phenomena nor a static "self" that is watching this phenomena.
The example I am thinking about is that of nature. Throughout this retreat, I had many opportunities to observe the natural world, such as rabbits, birds, and even a frog croaking very loudly in a small pond What characterized my encounters with these creatures was my desire to "get close to them" and somehow name them or grasp their appearance in detail. Being animals in the wild, however, they of course would naturally freeze and flee whenever I came too close or became more noticed by them. Is it not natural that this would happen? But it's also true of thinking as well. When I try to reach out to a thought and make it some static, unchanging reality, what arises is a sense of suffering. It's as though I am constantly reaching out to "secure" something that is bound to change in time. This is not to be nihilistic, but it's to be prepared that all things are going to change, and to be aware of the instability of things and situations.
No comments:
Post a Comment