Monthly Archives: April 2015

Gently, Gently Some More

The walking room that I had discovered was really very beautiful.  At one end was a 4-foot-high statue of the Buddha, perched on a dark wooden shelf, so that his eyes were at the level of mine.  The first time I was in the room, three yogis were walking across its width.  Walking meditation is most typically done in a back-and-forth pattern.  I don’t like that.  (Here comes aversion)  I like the loop trip.

I yearned for walking the room lengthwise.  If I did that on a central path, I would come face-to-face with the Buddha.  The next time I entered I was alone, and so I got what I wanted.  At the opposite end from the Buddha statue, there was a little alcove between two closets.  I tucked myself in there and faced my friend from afar.  Then I slowly walked towards him, watching as he got closer.  When our faces were about two feet apart, I would sometimes bow, and sometimes not.  (Bowing is a whole other topic that I’ll save for a future e-mail.)  Then I would turn around and put foot after foot until I was in the alcove – the back wall a foot from my nose and little side walls to my left and right.

At that point, I created a meditation.  Walking towards the Buddha, I was living the teachings more and more.  (Pausing when I stood close to him)  Turning around was turning away from the teachings, and walking back was getting ever farther from them, until I was cramped physically and spiritually inside the alcove.  (Pausing)  And then to feel my turning away from the restricted life, facing the Buddha once again.  Sometimes I would say “Remembering” to myself as I walked forward, and “Forgetting” as I returned.  Again and again I trod the path.  And more and more, the small smile emerged as I turned my back on the Buddha and moved away.  I was gently holding the leaving of what I sensed was true.  There was happiness within the sadness, allowing the rhythms of life to be there.

After a few days of these sessions, I saw something: I was now addicted to a new walking meditation route.  I needed to have eye contact with the Buddha, and needed my coming-and going relationship with him.  (Sigh)

So what to do?  My experience of the moments in the room was often blissful.  I wanted to hold onto that bliss, and even push to make it more blissy.  So I got to look at that.  Needing pleasant experience after pleasant experience.  Except that this isn’t what life is like, is it?  Life keeps showing me liberal portions of both pleasure and pain.  The trick seems to be how to hold the pain.

Seeing my rampant attachment, I fantasized about having an Insight Meditation Society staff member open the door and put up a sign:  “All yogis will please walk width-wise in this room, so that more retreatants may use the space.”  That would fix me and my craving.  No more approaching and leaving the Buddha.

What do you think?  Would my life be enhanced if my deepest attachments were continually uprooted?  I don’t know.  Think I’ll sit in the question.

Gently, Gently

The Buddha taught about three big problems people have: attachment, aversion and delusion.  Over the nine days of the meditation retreat I just experienced, I learned how to be with these obstacles.  Easier said than done, however.  The teachers asked us to observe the eruptions of the mind as they emerged.  And to hold them gently, as you would cradle a baby bird, rather than getting all ramped up with an issue, creating a big story about the topic, filled with distress.  I found that if I was being quietly aware of, say, an attachment I was watching unfold, a telltale sign would be a tiny smile at the corners of my mouth.

I came to the retreat attached to a particular walking meditation route at the centre.  On previous retreats, I did a big loop, walking the long, curving driveway and then on the lawn, next to the hedge that borders the road.  When I arrived on Easter weekend, there were drifts of snow by the hedge, the temperature was about 5 degrees Celsius, and I was sick.  Still, I had to walk my route, every day.  Lips tight, leaning forward, I trudged on.  Sometimes my boot would break through the crust and sink down 8 inches or so, and sometimes my foot would stay on top.  I tried to convince myself that this just duplicated the ups and downs of life, and that it was therefore a good meditation.  But it didn’t work.  Mostly, it was just a pain in the ass.

Where, oh where, had vacated my meditative mind?  I was covered in a blanket of “have to”, determined to do as I had done before.  But the pressing doesn’t work.

By day three my cough had gotten worse, it was cold out, and I abandoned the great out-of-doors.  I found a rectangular walking room in the centre and stepped on out, marginally at peace.  The truth was though, at least to my addled brain, the smooth wooden floorboards were not good enough.  I lusted for my hedge, lawn and driveway.

As the teachers continued their daily lessons about simply observing our attachments – our greed to have life turn out just the way we want it – I got to see the huge tension I had created for myself.  I was sad, and tried to just let that be there.  Glimpses of that tiny smile broke through for a moment here and a moment there, quickly to be replaced by a pout.  That Buddha!  What does he know?

More about that tomorrow.

What To Possibly Say?

I’m back from my 9-day silent meditation retreat.  I feel very open.  Actually it’s like there’s space around each of my cells.  Breathing room.  And I don’t know what to say.  Most of you probably haven’t had the experience that I’ve just lived through.  How can I have you understand?  I’m sure you’re all smart people.  It’s not that.  But you may not have the context to hold whatever I have to say.  And so the likelihood of me being misinterpreted is great.  Maybe I’d try to talk about A but all you hear is B.  Such as the word “surrender”.

What I do know is that I want to communicate with you about what the past week has meant.  Part of me doesn’t know how.  But I know that part of me does.  I’m willing to risk being misunderstood.  So I will put fingers to keys over the next few days … and see what happens.

It was a fine journey, and continues to be so.

Unknown Days

Twelve of them, right in front of me.  I’m starting to drive tomorrow to Massachusetts for a 9-day silent meditation retreat.  Silence begins on Friday evening for the 100 participants.  What a blessing, not needing to speak and make eye contact to have communion among us.  Although there are short times before and after the retreat for the “yogis” to talk to each other, it’s likely that I won’t meet most of them.  And yet I know we will touch each other in our hearts.

I don’t have any goals.  I’ll just let the next moment replace the previous one.  I don’t want to get better at anything.  Gosh, what an adventure this will be!

Since we’re not allowed to do any writing during the retreat, you won’t hear from me again until I get back.  I’ll create a post on Tuesday, April 14 to tell you all about it.

May you have great peace and satisfaction in the days between.