Are We Almost There?
There is a teaching in Buddhism which says, “If you see the Buddha coming down the road, kill him.”
Buddhism like Unitarian Universalism is a non-creedal religion, but it has many teachings. One teaching is no one should accept Buddha’s teachings as the absolute truth; instead, one should experience the teachings for one self and decide for one self. Since the Wright Tavern has been offering a 10-part series on spiritual practices, I am going to speak about my practice. I have practiced meditation for 17 years. Through my experience of meditation, I have become very aware of the random, often judging thoughts, which create an artificial screen separating me from a larger reality. Awareness of the dynamics of our inner world (our thoughts, our emotions, and physical sensations) creates an internal spaciousness allowing freedom of choice, clarity and compassion to arise. At the end of meditation, I say the following words: “By the power of this practice, may the real enemies, my perceptions and misdeeds, be overcome and ultimate vision be obtained, so I may be healed and so I may be a source of healing for others.”
Jack Kornfield, a meditation teacher, tells a story which illustrates the benefits of meditation: As an Air Force major stood at a check-out counter of a supermarket, he noticed the woman ahead of him holding a baby and one item she was buying. He casually wondered why she wasn't in the Express Line. When it was finally the woman's turn, she and the cashier started talking very animatedly. Next thing he knew the cashier was holding the baby and giving the baby kisses. At first he found himself becoming impatient. This was not the way he'd run a supermarket. He prided himself on being efficient and expected others to be the same way. What were these two women doing?
Because he had been practicing meditation, instead of complaining, he brought his attention to the feelings and physical sensations that his judging mind had stirred. He could feel his face getting flushed, and he could feel mild pressure in his head and a tightness in his chest. He brought his breath and attention to these sensations and he began to feel them lessen. As they were lessening, noticed what a cute smile the baby had. Soon the cashier returned the baby to the woman and was saying good-bye. Next it was the Major's turn and as he looked at the cashier, he commented what a cute smile the baby had. The young woman beamed and explained the baby was her son. "I have to work, so my mother brings my son over once or twice day so we can see each other. You see my husband was in the Air Force and he was killed in a training exercise. These visits brighten my day."
Later the Major shared with his meditation class that his normal response would have been to stand in judgment of the cashier feeling she was not "doing her job in a timely fashion." Because he could feel the physical sensations of his judgmental attitude building in his body, he brought his attention to them. By doing this, an internal space was created allowing him to let go of his preconceptions of "how it should be." He was then open to receive new information and in doing so, his experience of reality became a bit larger.
In this morning’s responsive reading, Emerson uses several terms, which are interchangeable for God: “The Oversoul,” “The Highest” and “the cause.” I often think of God as Reality, (with an upper case “R”). This Reality exists from moment to moment in its simultaneous infinite possibilities throughout the Universe. Our view or understanding of Reality with an upper case “R” is limited by our attachment to the ego. Most of the time when we speak of reality, it is reality limited by our ego-driven perspective. This reality is spelled with a lower case “r.” The Buddha does not use the term God explaining he, the Buddha, only speaks about what he knows from his experience. Instead he talks about no self: the on-going experience of being with out ego, so one is fully present to the moment. It is through the daily practice of meditation, we cultivate the experience of no self.
One way of cultivating no self is to become aware of the random thoughts by watching them come and go, and noticing our emotional and bodily sensations to theses random thoughts. Over time as we come to know these thoughts, – often ad nauseum – we can let them go and no longer be reactive to them. This awareness gained in silent meditation is transferable to our every day experience, so we become aware of how our bodies, hearts and minds react. When we become aware of these inner processes, which often create a screen decreasing our perspective of what is, we gain clarity of vision that can lead to wisdom and compassion. I have taught meditation in the Shirley prison and the Billerica House of Correction as part of the Houses of Healing program. It is powerful to observe the inmates as they become less reactive to the running tapes in their minds. In the overall view of life, the example I just gave and the story of the Air Force Major are stories representing the daily small encounters we all have. We often pay little attention to them. BUT it is these daily encounters that can deplete our souls or fill them with the riches of human connection.
Years ago there was a joke in the New Yorker, which captures a certain truth about the journey of meditation and of life. There was a family of Bedouins traveling across the desert. The father is on his camel with his necessary gear for a long journey. The mother is also on her camel with the gear she needs. Behind them are their two children, each traveling on their own camel. All are traveling in a line, but the father is turned around and he is calling back to his children, "Stop asking if we are almost there! We are nomads for crying out loud!!" In many ways, we are all nomads. We are all traveling on the journey of life. Meditation, like life, is a continual process in which we discover meaning.
As I mentioned earlier, when we practice meditation by bringing our attention to the breath, we often find that we do not have a quiet mind. Our thoughts go on and on. In fact it was a neuro-physicist who discovered that the brain could be without thinking for only 4 seconds. But the chatter becomes quieter when our attention no longer becomes engaged in each of these mental vignettes. The thoughts still arise, but they are no longer the main attraction.
Plato wrote about this problem. He likened the mind to a ship on which the sailors have mutinied and locked the captain and the navigator below in the cabin. The sailors believe themselves to be perfectly free to steer the ship in any direction they want. First one sailor steers the ship, then another, each putting the ship on a different course. The sailors are very much like our spontaneous thoughts that jerk our attention from one direction to another. The task of being human, wrote Plato, is to quell the mutiny, to release the Captain and Navigator so there can be the freedom to choose with clarity what one brings to his or her full attention. Only when one is free of the tyranny of the mind's whim can there be real freedom. Meditation is a practice enabling us to see that our unruly thoughts are just like the sailors steering our mind in any old direction. It enables us to release the Captain and the Navigator by listening to the silence.
Meditation is a practice, in which we DELIBERATELY CHOOSE to take the time to be open to the many possibilities within. It is a practice that creates evolutionary changes, not revolutionary ones. In my practice of meditation, I have not experienced revolutionary changes. But I have experienced moments of spaciousness around my heart and in my mind allowing new perceptions, wisdom and compassion to enter my consciousness. I call these changes "the internal one degree of change."
Several years ago when I was parenting teenagers, my meditations were constantly filled with feelings of frustration, anger, inadequacy, and most of all, helplessness. Always I brought my attention back to my breath. Finally I decided I needed to sit with my helplessness, and I brought my attention and breath to it. It was not easy, but ever so slowly I saw the dysfunction of the judging mind – how it was hurting my children and me. The judging mind was creating my sense of helplessness. I realized instead of blaming others and myself, I needed to become the change I wanted to be. That one-degree of self-knowledge enabled me to begin to assert myself calmly and without anger. Slowly, the situation began to change. A one-degree turn that is lived every day becomes a significant change over time.
As I said earlier, change is inevitable. How we meet the ever changing moment determines how we meet the world. Just as life requires us to bring a spirit of openness to it, the practice of meditation requires the same level of openness, a willingness to learn through commitment and observation. I cannot stress the word commitment enough. The goal of meditation is not that you do it "WELL," but that you do it CONSISTENTLY. During meditation, our spirit of commitment will be challenged when our practice seems as dry and as sterile as a desert. It is important to remember we need to explore the deserts of our lives as well as the times they seem rich with possibilities.
There is a paradox within this practice. As we study the ego and come to know it, we can begin to let it go, so we are not totally defined by it. When we experience true intimacy in the present moment, compassion comes forward. – very much like it did for the Air Force major.
About 10 years ago I attended a presentation by Rosie Rosenzwieg at The First Parish of Wayland. Rosie, a devout Jew, as well as a poet and a meditator, is the author of A Jewish Mother in Shangri-la. In her book she shared her journey of meditation and reconciliation with her son who had become a Buddhist monk. In the audience there was a gentleman who was angry and very distressed. He challenged Rosie’s praise of meditation, saying to meditate is to do nothing; that it supports "letting go" so we can let go of matters about which we should be deeply concerned. The more he talked, the more upset he became. As he rubbed his brow, he pleadingly asked what are we doing about Kosovo. He was really asking: What are we doing about all the Kosovo's of the world? His sense of helplessness hung palpably within the room.
Rosenzweig answered Mother Theresa had an answer to this sense of helplessness, which was a prayerful and meditative response. In order to meet each moment fully, Mother Theresa explained, "I never look at the starving masses. I only look at the individual, because I know I can only feed one individual at a time." By focusing on one person at a time, Mother Theresa fed thousands and thousands of starving people.
This applies to each one of us here. It is so easy to be overwhelmed by the enormity of our own problems, let alone the world's. Meditation does not dull our senses to the enormity of the pain and suffering in the world, instead it enables us to live out of the spaciousness we experience when we are in the present. It provides us with the capacity and freedom to move into the unknown, the future, and to actualize new possibilities even in the midst of our anxieties, our sense of helplessness. So as we open to each moment we can discover there is a spaciousness within us in which our true nature dwells. Within our true nature is wisdom and compassion. This is the promise and the possibility of meditation.
Benediction:
The thought manifests the word,
The word manifests the deed.
The deed deepens into habit,
And the habit hardens in character.
So watch the thought and its way with care,
And let it spring from Love born out of concern for all beings.