Accessibility To Meditate

 More than anything, what I have been trying to do with my research is to make meditation accessible to teachers, regardless of their situation or what kinds of pressures they go through. I sometimes feel disappointed that I may not make the desired impact in my study--since I don't think I have the power to make teachers love meditation or do it frequently. But, what I want to do is to inspire curiosity and to help teachers become better equipped to use meditation to calm their minds before assessing student writing. This "making accessible" requires making meditation feel enjoyable.

   I personally find myself rushed to take on many things. But it is precisely for this reason that I am able to empathize with those who are squeezed for time. Even tonight, I felt the pressure to try to complete many evaluations and assessments. But I also feel that there needs to be time out-- a space for inner reflection, at the very least--which people tend to take for granted. Centering not only releases stress but it also allows for meaning construction: a chance, that is, to regroup and see what is most significant or meaningful. If one is always in a rush, there is simply no time to feel--not only to feel one's own body but also to feel what is meaningful to that person. What resonates with me? Where do I locate myself in all these changing scenes and events? I believe that it is only in the process of centering that such kind of meaning can surface at all.

Life's Accounts

  Karma has sometimes been compared to the notion of keeping score of one's pluses and minuses. I recall reading that in Muslim culture, there is a similar notion of Allah weighing the positives as opposed to the negatives of one's behavior. I believe that even the ancient Greek concept of the afterlife has harbored a similar idea. It makes sense to say that one's good deeds should outweigh their bad deeds, but I wonder if there could be an algorithm as comprehensive enough to sum up all of a person's deeds, inactions and "misdeeds". What would such a computer look like? Of course, the idea itself is a thought: it comes and goes, depending on how dedicated we try to be toward it.

   Working on my thesis feels to me this way. I look at the thing one day and it looks okay, but then reading another article makes me want to tweak it to make it better. I shape and tweak it until I feel that I have satisfied someone's requirements--ideally, the person in my head who I feel is qualified to speak about it and assess its total quality. But in the end, it doesn't feel that this thesis, or any writing for that matter, ever really finishes. It's meant to be a little bit asymmetrical in relation to its original intent and goal: a surprise, even to its creator. But without surprises, the creation is a little bit pointless. I create in order to fundamentally surprise myself through the learning. If I had the thesis all in my head before writing it down, how surprising would that be to me, and how would it constitute the adventure that comes from inquiry and creation? In situations like these, I can't really resort to an accounting metaphor, because what I put into it should (hopefully) not equal what comes out.

  If all one had to do was to contribute "good balances" into the account of life, there would not only be little purpose, but also little room for expansion and surprise. I often do things not because I have determined them to be good --at least not yet, anyway--but because they give me room to breathe and advance a little so that I can see and discover new things in myself. So I didn't embark on this project simply to gain merit, or bring it to others, but to see what's possible by extending myself a bit. Some of what's possible might be downright useless or bad, but there is a risk of that which comes from acting and being both a creator and someone being created by things outside me. But I consider this to be the miraculous thing about learning; it's value is never fully disclosed but always being revealed in the moment.

Issues and Stuff

 I have recently begun to take on a project management role for a journal devoted to Surangama Sutra.  My volunteer role in this capacity is to make sure that the other volunteers are submitting their translations or edits in a timely manner and are not falling behind. As I was organizing a spreadsheet devoted to keeping track of the volunteers and what they are doing, I noticed that the word "Issue" refers to both a periodical number (an index, as it were) and could also refer to a problem. How are these two terms connected? Recently, the term "has issues" is taken to mean a person who has a lot of neuroses or inner conflicts. But issue could also, quite simply, refer to a matter for study or deliberation. Thus, an issue usually refers to a volume of work that deals thematically with a certain topic, approaching it from a variety of angles and slants.

  I tend to prefer to think of issues as things deserving of attention, rather than things desperately in need of "fixing". While the latter might be true of many things (including climate issues that we currently face), I think that it's preferable to see human issues as things in need of multiple conversations and viewpoints. To see someone as having "issues" is sometimes a kind of disparagement of the person which hardly does justice to the opportunities that the person does have. But because having issues sounds too much like having problems or difficulties (which we are somehow not supposed to have), there is more of a tendency to feel shame around this and to present a veneer of not having any challenges to face. But issues instead could be exactly like magazine "special" issues: a topic that can be explored using an inquiring mind. I tend to prefer this latter approach, but I am finding that the word itself is veering more toward something to react to or to fix.

Life's Disappointments

   Reading Martha Nussbaum's text Upheavals of Thought, I've been struck by the distinction between what she refers to as different "ladders of love". Nussbaum analyses different kinds of eschatology, ranging from Platonic to Augustinian, even proceeding forth to Dante and, eventually, James Joyce. I haven't completed this significant text, but one thing that strikes me is the balance between cherishing the Platonic ideal (all that is beautiful in one's life or which one cherishes as "the good") and respecting that one is not always in control of achieving such an ideal. According to Augustine, humans are mired in original sin, and simply have no way to achieve any ideal state of mind except through the grace of God.

    I think that, for me, these experiences represent different forms of introspection. Ideals are always going to exist: I have some template about how my life should proceed, and that stays with me no matter how old I become. However, as I get older, I don't feel that much regret that the ideal is not "realized" in a single human life. This is because I recognize the ideal to be just that ---an ideal--and I don't try to judge my worth by whether or not I have reached such ideals. Whatever standards of achievement, beauty, excellence, success and identity I have cherished at different periods in life (particularly adolescence), I can no longer say that I am guaranteed to achieve, even through hard work or diligent efforts. Does this mean that I don't try to achieve anything at all? That's hardly the case. Achievement and efforts are still worth striving for in themselves, but there is less pressure for me to fulfill them in the specific ways that I had imagined as a younger person. I can't say why this is the case, but I would venture to guess that it's because my soul gets somehow mirrored in whatever I do, regardless of the circumstances. In that respect, even if the mirror is muddy or tarnished--inferior in some way--I start to have faith that I won't lose the soul's beauty and purpose, even if I were to have difficulties in expressing it and manifesting it.

   I will give a specific example. For a long time, I wanted to be a published writer. However, one of the sad ironies is that, no matter how much I write and how many poetry documents I print, I have hardly ever sent any of this work for publication. I think part of the reason for this is a kind of fear of rejection, and another reason is a loss of nerve. I somehow recognize that there are all kinds of mental barriers to action, including the lack of time. But at the same time, I don't worry about it. For example, the fact that I am writing this blog, or anything, for that matter, is proof, to me, of the writer's soul that still lies within me and speaks to me. It is still evidence of a seeking heart, and through even a simple construction of a written piece, I see the beauty of the seeking heart. This, for me, is enough to know that my life is meaningful, and it has some kind of small spark of vitality, regardless of the darkness that might surround me at times. 

   Of course, there are other ways in which I have had the fortune to express my purpose in the world: teaching young students classics, for example, and doing my doctoral thesis. These things will hardly make me famous or world renowned, but when I look deeply into them, I see the soul that set out to be in this world and shed some small beauty into it. And that, for me, is infinitely of more value than all the accolades or stamp of achievement that might come my way, whether by design or accident.

Anchoring

   When you find a teacher who inspires you a lot, it's best to go to that teacher periodically to renew your faith. Sometimes, the teacher's presence is more inspiring than what you are able to do yourself, so going back to that teacher to replenish your faith is important and vital. 

    The reason I write this remark is that I am harkening back to my previous entry about spiritual anchoring. The anchor has always been a symbolically rich metaphor for how I took spiritual practice, especially in the beginning, when I first started to learn and facilitate meditation practices. I would even use this term when I was a timekeeper as well. It always brought me back to something I know the most, which is my present lived experience--and which, I might add, could not be taken away from me. Any time a person feels insecure or jealous about anything--afraid of losing their reputation or status--chances are that they are confusing something out there for their true identity, or true mind. If one has truly found their truest mind, they will find that this true mind is what can never be taken away, since it has no object to begin with! And so, in order to find what is true, one must always go back to what is most fundamental, most simple and most immediate to their lived in-the-moment experience.

    So, the teacher that inspires one the most, is the teacher that brings a person back to their most peaceful self. And that is the teacher that one wants to take refuge in, rather than taking refuge in a teacher who is taking you all over the place and confusing you! After all, that wouldn't necessarily be a teacher who would lead you to find your best qualities.

    

A Spiritual Anchor

   If I were to sum up what I understand from Master Sheng Yen's teachings, it is that he has given me a spiritual anchor. His teachings have allowed me to remember to stay centered in awareness, when things are difficult and I am facing the demons of my afflictions and vexations. I believe that the real gift that Venerable Sheng Yen has given to the world was his ability to make Dharma teachings accessible and easy to understand for people from all walks of life. This is what leads me to respect Master Sheng Yen and see him as my Dharma teacher.

  Dharma is simple and profound: it is going back to this mind, this present, this body, this time, this awareness. Doing this moment to moment, one is grounded in what's really happening, not wandering thoughts of what could be but hasn't happened, or what has past and is already gone. This simplicity of Chan allows me to recognize that most of my thoughts aren't really worth the anxiety I put into them. What can't be finished today will wait until tomorrow, and what can be done today can be done with steadfast resolve. 

   Which brings me to my doctoral thesis: Will it ever be done? Well, if I think this way, there is no enjoyment, and hardly any learning. Enjoying the process of being just in this moment is very important. And I hope to explore similar topics in the future.

Soft Energy

 Sometimes, I feel that the gift of "just being" in the present--with whatever happens to be there-is enough. When I say "enough", I don't mean that there is nothing to do. To the contrary, that soft presence comes from recognizing that there is infinite to do, and never enough time to do it all. There are certainly endless books to be read in my personal library, endless chores to be done, endless work at work, etc. There is never any end to the work that needs to be done. And yet, one can be softly present to it, not urgently trying to finish everything all at once.

   Sometimes, I do feel the soft presence of others; it is a living and natural energy, and one can sometimes feel it more in some than in others. It can be cultivated, I believe, simply through the recognition that there is nothing that urgent or pressing: things will be done in their own time. But also, this energy needs to be fearless. It is not ashamed of itself, and it doesn't feel it needs to be anything more or less than what it is in the moment, so it does not try to shift shape with every passing circumstance.

   Soft presence is an energy that itself is a gift to others. This is challenging to understand, but I believe that the power to put others at ease by having a do-nothing attitude is one of the most glorious gifts that one can truly give to others. It is a monumental contribution in a world where people are constantly running around trying to add things to their resume. Such kind of a gentle and soft nothingness is what's needed to counteract pride; rage and anger in not having status; jealousy of others; inferiority complexes; chronic insecurity or feeling one has not "done enough", etc.