Spinning Wheels

 I have sometimes heard the expression "to spin in one's wheels" to refer to a habit of ruminating: coming back to the same thought again and again, and feeling stuck in it. This is such a powerful metaphor, if mainly because it evokes times in my early childhood when something would get stuck in a wheel of one of my toys, and even the slightest piece of dust would cause the car to spin in circles. It's funny how this very same metaphor continues to survive in my memory to this day, as sometimes the image comes up from time to time.

   Wheels evoke direction. When we aren't moving like we should, we might get impatient, until we realize that we are making the same mistake of not letting go, and taking the things around us to be solid and substantial. One example of this comes from the Christian concept of "pride", which I actually haven't heard about in a long time. Pride is often equated with the ego, but I see it as the mental trap of thinking there is something substantial within us that we have to defend. When I get caught in the quagmire of hurt, what I do is to put on the protective armor of consoling thoughts, which sooner or later becomes an overprotective armor consisting of all kinds of consolations. These consolations, as comforting as they are, imply a barricading of self against a perceived threatening "sense of the other" which could take the form of any number of hurts. There is nothing wrong with all of this, but soon, we may become so invested in a strong sense of self that we refuse to let go of it even when the "threat'' has disappeared. Then the hardest thing is to let go, and I think this is a form of pride.

  Pride can even take the form of thinking that our suffering has ennobled us. We might even hold onto the idea that we overcame something terrible in the past to make us who we are now. I think this is valuable to a certain degree, but it also means that I identify myself as fighting against some adversity, and this creates an opposition of I vs. them.

How we let go of pride is to realize that there is nothing much to defend. I think this takes many years of realizing that all the scrapes we get into are temporary experiences. What seems real today gradually recedes into the distant past later. 

Having vs Wanting to Do Things

Life goes at a frantic pace, so how do we slow down? One way of slowing down is to realize that nothing really needs doing most of the time. Most of the things that we want to do, are really only wants. I sometimes have the anxiety that unless I keep on the move, I will simply slide into lethargy and won't bother to pick up at a later time. The truth is, however, that one should always ask themselves sincerely whether something is a "want" or is in fact a need. It is in investigating the difference between wants and needs that we may be able to let go of what we don't need to do right away.

Going back to my previous entry, if we believe in the idea of cause and conditions, we can recognize that a house never gets built in a single day. Many factors are required, and it takes sustained effort that happens over a long time. During the three day retreat, Ven. GuoYen reminded the participants that it is better not to become so impatient or consumed in wanting to progress in practice that we lose energy. A tense mind hardly gets us farther down the road, so we should find other ways to be content with what has been done and let the rest be completed at a later time or phase. Another way of looking at this is to allow a plan to fold naturally rather than trying too hard to achieve in one go. Trying to do everything at once can not only pressure yourself but also those around you too.

Having to do things always comes with a hidden question: what do I stand to gain or lose in doing this? Can it wait or does it need to happen right away? Reflecting on these questions can also dovetail with the theme of having few needs.

Conditioned Arising and Life

   During our Three Day Retreat at Bliss Haven Retreat Center in Dunville, Chang Yuan Fashi was remarking on how elusive the peaceful mind can seem to us. We are often caught up in so many desires, which results in a busy mind, that we are unable to enjoy the simplicity and wonder of "just being". In fact, we even need to somehow put this simplicity into words, to "reason" it into existence. For a few moments, I was able to see the peace and freedom that comes from just dropping thoughts altogether and beholding the present moment as it is: "coming home" to it, in fact, as Fashi had suggested. But why is it so elusive? 

    Most of our desires are probably social in nature. We are taught to fear solitude and abandonment. For instance, the most harsh punishment we can possibly imagine is solitary confinement, or the common practice of arranging people to sit facing the wall, just as we normally would do in our retreat centers. We are also taught to fear rejection and scorn. I think that all of these thoughts grip around us and create the mental fog of guilt that we feel when we don't serve other people's desires or expectations. I am sure that we also contribute to a similar vicious cycle when we add our own desires (and fear of not having them fulfilled) into the mixture.

    During the retreat, Fashi asked us to try to hold the feeling of being at peace and at home into the spaces beyond the retreat itself. I sometimes wonder what this would be like. We truly can't be blissful and happy all the time, could we?  Actually, however, it's possible, but we have to honor whatever emotions arise in the moment and know that these emotions are all just parts of our empty nature. They are conditioned arising, meaning they arise based on causes and conditions. Once the conditions disappear, there is no trace of it, just as our leg pain disappears as soon as we unfold our legs and come out of the meditation. I believe freedom from suffering--especially from the ego--comes from reflecting at all times on conditioned arising. Nothing stays the same, not even the sense of an enduring self that is experiencing the conditions. So when we let go of trying to grasp this permanent sense of self, that is when we are left with the question of what is left? I believe this is an important contemplation. It is the contemplation of an open hand as opposed to a closed fist.