Managing Time

 There is no sense of time except the present. If I am not fixating on the future or the past, there is not that much to be done except for what is coming up now. Many times, the sense that I have is that there is a whole pile of things to do, but in fact this is only a temporary thought which often comes from a state of mind that is pulled away from its inner stability.
   Without the sense of stability it can be very hard not to completely lose one's balance in all the busyness of the day. This sense of stability might also take the form of asking myself, "what do I really find fulfilling in the present?" rather than the oft heard question, "What do I have to do now?" If I am constantly on a kind of twenty four seven alert from one task to the next, it is hard for me to find time to turn inward and ask the more basic questions, what do these actions really mean to me? If I am not asking this deeper question, I run the risk of wasting a lot of time doing the things that others are telling me to do, without really knowing what those same things mean from my perspective.
   Sometimes having moments of meditation and silent reflection can bring a person back to the sense of who they are in their entirety, stripped of the expectations of others.

A Sense of Difference

Reading Zenju Earthlyn Manuel's very beautiful book Way of Tenderness for a second time ,  I reflect on whether the sense of diversity or difference truly divides me from others, or whether it's a cause for celebration. I would like to qualify my remark with a question, what does it mean to 'celebrate' the existence of another being, and how is this "celebration" different from appropriation of the other? 
   I think that celebration represents the middle path between trying to possess something one has made into an exotic object and trying to reject others in favor of a kind of false state of independence. To celebrate others is to be able to behold them for their special identity and qualities, without, as Manuel insightfully observes, trying to distort the "Other" to one's own fantasies or desires. It also requires a certain humility to understand that there are a lot of things I cannot know about another person, but I can still appreciate what I do understand about them. 
     This leads me to another observation I had, and that is, I tend to equate liking something to knowing about it. For example, when I am in an art gallery, I can't help but want to understand what the art is "all about" (note the all-encompassing term "all" in this phrase), without the ability to simply stand in awe of it. There are certainly times when I can be amazed by another creation or in awe, and there are other times when I have to acknowledge that I cannot relate fully, even though I do have a basic wish to connect. Manuel would go even further to suggest that connection is not something that a person even needs to make consciously but already pre-exists between people. The key is that it cannot be forcefully brought into existence; it's there already, but needs to be appreciated over time to understand its meaning.

Manuel, Zenju Earthlyn (2015). Way of Tenderness: Awakening Through Race, Sexuality, and Gender. Boston: Wisdom Publications
   

Born a Minute

This morning, I attended a service for the Buddha Bathing celebration. Although technically, this celebration is about the "symbolic" birth of the Sakyamuni Buddha, it is also the celebration of the "birth" of one's own Buddha awakening, which happens when our actions and thoughts are in alignment with those of the Buddha. This event was significant for me in that it forced me to consider why I am so attracted to Buddha's teachings--perhaps even to consider every moment as a kind of vow to be reborn.
     I go back to what YanBen Fashi was mentioning, namely that the mind ceases to give rise to vexations when each moment is taken for itself, without comparing to the previous moment. This is very profound, even though it's subtle and perhaps easy to miss. Behind every sense of suffering, there is always this distant yet present expectation, whether based on the past or on an imagined future. When I fully surrender this subtle expecting, then every moment is timeless, even beyond time itself. For me, this is the precious jewel of the Buddha that needs to be protected in some way.
   Try this experiment: in whatever situation you are in right now, try to engage in a way that is not chasing after or repelling the things around you. Ask yourself, can your mind be this still and this clear? It's only when I stop wanting to chase after the image or the impression that I can discover the natural stillness of the mind. However, when my mind is moving to the next moment or to the previous one, there is this subtle disturbance or disruption which can hardly be described. In fact, even when the mind tries to get rid of that disturbance, there is still yet again, disturbance! In any situation, the key is to see that the waves are always and irrevocably of the same basic substance, even when they are in a state of continuous fluctuation.
   When this mindset arises in me, there is a kind of smoothness in the mind, which is almost akin to grace. But it's not important to look for grace moments. In fact, even "ungraceful" moments actually have this built in grace which comes from not chasing the thoughts but just letting them be. In the letting be is the mind. But even in not letting be is the mind.

Two “Exercises” Inspired By the Platform Sutra

    After attending Venerable YanBen’s talk yesterday, I am inspired to reflect on two practices which could be done based on the insights from the sutra. The first is “mindfulness of impermanence” while the second is called “cheerful non-abiding”. I would like to describe the guided meditations below and how they can be used in a potential workshop.

    The first relates to “mindfulness of impermanence”. The first part of this exercise might seem counter-intuitive, but it’s about reflecting on a particular person or experience that feels uncomfortable or difficult. In this exercise, the participant first brings to mind the difficulty that is related to the experience as well as being aware of how the mind and body feels when they are experiencing this difficulty. Pay attention to the quality of the breath, the shoulders, the forehead, the muscles in the arms, down to the feet, etc. Then the person reflects on how the feelings one has are not staying forever. There are specific conditions that shape the experience, such as the particular circumstances which gave rise to the experience, the wider factors that surround those conditions, and so on. The participant gradually explores each of the conditions that might have lead to their present difficulty, going back to the past.

    Then, the participant is asked to contemplate an opposite scenario, which is that of a very pleasant situation. Again, they take note of any shifts in how the body feels. After this, did they notice any difference in how they feel about the experience of the difficulty and the pleasant situation? The participants start to notice that the two situations create very different experiences. It is hoped as well that the participants have an insight into the impermanence of the both experiences: noticing that both the pleasant and unpleasant experiences are the result of specific circumstances (including the instruction to reflect on the difficult and good experience).

     The second meditation relates to “cheerful non-abiding”. This is a bit more challenging to present, but it has to do with cultivating a clarity of being that is not comparing this present moment to previous ones. Let’s say that the person is noticing a disturbing situation or event that comes to mind. Instead of using the memory of that even to add a commentary about the person’s identity (“I am … because this happened”) the person simply enjoys whatever the experience happens to be and lets it pass. It seems helpful if a person can visualize themselves as a kind of open gate, letting in thoughts and then letting them out without any personal identification with those thoughts or situations. If there is a tense feeling or anxiety, what would it be like to allow that anxiety or tension to arise without seeing oneself as “a tense person” or “an anxious person”? What this practice does it to allow the thought and feeling to arise without attaching any distinct “self” to the experience. Even when the thoughts are about “who I am”, one’s attitude is “these are just thoughts coming and going. They aren’t me, but there is no need to reject them either. I can cheerfully allow them to come and go without relating them to a permanent self”.

     Both these exercises seem to be suitable for those who experience a lot of anxiety. They may be difficult to perform if a person has not practiced meditation before, but I do wonder if it can still be useful in dealing with the anxiety that comes from “over thinking” or attaching to a lot of different scenarios in mind.

"Deception of Perception"

During the Dharma talk tonight at Emmanuel College Chapel, Venerable Yan Ben had talked about The Platform Sutra, in which he had mentioned the two major concepts which underlie the treatment of suchness: namely, impermanence (temporal) and dependent arising (spatial). His account of dependent arising interested me, as he used the example of people coming into the Chan Hall and then disappearing to do other things. The arrangement certainly looks very permanent, especially when the classroom is a regular place for people to learn. However, things are constantly shifting, to the point where there is no graspable substance to hold onto that can be called my own.
   The second example that Venerable Yan Ben mentioned was that of the mani pearl, a kind of multifaceted, idealized pearl which reflects light around it in a crystalline form. According to Buddhist folklore, mani pearls are said to reflect perfectly all the colors and lights around it, thus creating a sense that they embody these colors. However, anyone who spends time around crystals will know that their light never actually really "belongs" to them in the end; they are only temporary conditional arrangements that are based on the plays of light, shadow and materials.
    According to the Platform Sutra, the way to achieve the straightforward mind is simply by not making any chains of thoughts, connecting past, present and future thinking. This way, we see the reflections of thoughts without thinking that those thoughts are solid objects, which is often what happens when we pile "thought upon thought". The more I dwell on one concept of who I am, either from feedback or from what people write and say about me, the more I start to create a reified concept of self which doesn't really have very much at all to do with the present mind. One often experiences this if they harbor some upset thought about someone, only to meet them later and realize that the person they are with is not the person they remember at all. In that instant, all resentment coming from the past memories is instantly vanished: the illusory aspect is not that those phenomena (anger, good, bad) did not appear in mind, but rather that they don't correspond to real things.
    I love the expression "deception of perception" which came up in one of Venerable Yan Ben's slides. What he means by this is that perceptions can be very deceiving if we are not careful and realize their true nature as impermanent. Again, the phenomena are definitely evident in mind (we don't get attached to the emptiness or "nothingness") but at the same time, we know that suffering arises when we take the images and phenomena as static and unchanging.

Seeing Everything as Learning

When I start to reflect upon it, I realize that there are ways to look at things as learning experiences, and ways to take things personally. When I take things to be personal, I literally believe that there is a "person" who is on the defensive or is being attacked. This is a mistaken view, because it suggests that there are these individuals who need to be defended. When I believe this more and more, my body tends to become very tight and tense. I have imagined that there is another person who intends to attack me, and then I become more and more defended inside.
  An alternative view might be to see that I call the self is really a shifting series of experiences, thoughts and ideas. Rather than thinking that there is a "me" that is solid that is in need of defending, what would it be like if I understood that all these thoughts and emotions are just passing constantly, to be replaced by other thoughts and feelings? If I have some degree of insight into the impermanence of this "selfhood", I wouldn't be so invested in the idea of trying to defend a solid sense of the self that is presumably real.
   Sometimes it's important to reflect on impermanence so that a person is not caught up in the illusory belief in a self to defend.  It's scary to realize but it is so important to relax and focus on the things that matter in life and are of importance. But this requires seeing that things are often not as permanent or fixed as they appear. This is a practice that seems to me worthy to contemplate for a while.

Seeing the Strangers

This morning, I came across a baby raccoon just outside my backyard. The animal was busy trying to climb a tree and must have spotted me before I did spot it, because it seemed to freeze while it was climbing the tree. And it gazed at me for a while in this frozen silence while I tried to wave at it--as though "hello" were somehow a universal language that all species intuitively understand. Still, I had some kind of notion that connecting can happen even when there isn't a shared language that is used o connect.
   Many traditions talk about the inherent interconnection between all living beings, and how prayers can form connections based on faith in the mind's already connected nature. I find it difficult to feel this way with other people, however, because a lot of times there are ample opportunities for miscommunication there. With animals or non-human species in general, there isn't so much confusion with regards to what one is seeing, and the viewer has no demands placed on them as to how to interpret and act upon what they are seeing. Of course, if the situation were a life or death flight from a tiger, say, this principle would no longer apply.
  I mentioned in an earlier blog entry how simple connections with nature can sometimes reveal patterns in our thinking or symbolic elements of our lives. Natural "visitations" from unusual species can sometimes give me pause to consider whether the animals are special messengers of sorts who have come to deliver a teaching about soul. I have often wondered, for example, why there have been so many rabbit sightings in Toronto, when it seems like the last place one would go to, to find a live rabbit, much less a wide patch of grass upon which to graze. Sometimes the answer is quite simply that these visitations are the stranger in us awakening and being heard: something telling us that we don't know ourselves as much as we think we did, and we had better slow down to pay attention to those mysterious parts of us that have no voice as of yet. Perhaps this is the aspect that allows me to connect the visiting strangers with my inner stranger.