‘You Don’t Have to Be Good’

“You don’t have to be good.’ This is the first line from Mary Oliver’s poem Wild Geese. It is such a touchstone for so many of us who find we are always working so hard to be good. We may be surprised to find these words are such a release for us, such permission -- not to run out and be bad, but to stop striving so hard to be good.

We talked a little about striving last week when we discussed the bodhisattva. It is so easy to get stringent and determined around recreating ourselves in the mold of a bodhisattva or any other form -- a good Buddhist, a good person, a worthy person. Or perhaps we don’t care about good, but strive to be admired for beauty, talent or brilliance.

But the striving itself keeps us from ever finding joy in any accomplishment. Instead it causes us to strengthen and tighten the pattern of striving. We can’t appreciate the achievement because we are stuck in looking forward to the next goal. That is the pattern we create with our striving. We are attached to the tight tangle of trying hard and are blinded to who we truly are. So when we think about letting go, it seems threatening to who we believe ourselves to be.

We may be proud of the very things that ultimately cause us and those around us misery. We are usually conditioned to be proud of will power. We have seen how well it works to achieve things. Culturally we embrace will power as one of the highest virtues. And we see it as trying really hard, putting blinders on to any distractions and pushing through. There may be times where life depends on such determination. But it is a sprint mentality, not sustenance to feed us for the whole journey of life.

Imagine if will power were music. It would sound forced, strident and sharp. Playing that tune would be all about conquering the notes, racing to the finish. It would care nothing about savoring the rhythm, melody or harmony of the music itself.

We have explored in the past the concept of Right or Wise Effort. Wise Effort is one of the eight aspects of the Noble Eightfold Path to enlightenment.There are certain qualities of Wise Effort that are missing when we get caught up in striving, pushing through with will power. Wise Effort is first about being present, anchored in sensation, noticing what is true in this moment. It stems from the awareness that arises, an awareness that is compassionate and insightful, seeing the world fresh in every moment.

When we recognize we are not using Wise Effort, we simply refocus our intention. In class, when we begin meditating, I offer up the prompt to set the paired intentions of being present and being compassionate. We don’t need to get caught up in judging our failure to have Wise Effort. We just come back to it again and again.

Wise effort, anchored in these two intentions, rises up from the truth of the present moment -- what’s going on in our body, our mind, our heart; what’s going on around us -- all the causes and conditions that whirl about us at any given moment that may infuse our thoughts and emotions. With compassion we temper our effort to accomplish something. If we are focused on a goal to get something done, we might not be present to do what needs doing in the fullest and most authentic way possible.

Authenticity is a naturally arising expression of being fully present in the moment and being compassionate with ourselves and others. Wise Effort is attuning our actions to the natural rhythm of this authentic expression. Striving feels quite inauthentic because it comes from some external focus, a desire to be seen in a certain way by those around us.

The opposite of striving -- giving up, not bothering, daydreaming -- comes from a sense of powerlessness. The only place of power is in the present moment. The past and future are just ideas we have in our thoughts in the form of memories, regrets, hopes, plans or worries. If we get stuck in these in past or future thought patterns, unable to be fully present in the here and now of life, we lose touch with our own access to infinite power. Only in this moment right here and now can we, with compassion, transform a sour situation into something vital, lively and joyful -- whether in the world or within ourselves. This is Wise Effort.

Exercise:
After meditation, take a moment to look at the current situations of your life and notice where you are perhaps living in the future, hopeful and striving, or fearful and losing ground.

Perhaps what comes up is an area in your life that seems particularly dysfunctional -- an inability to get a handle on something. These are the areas where we go dead, where we fall out of awareness of the moment, even if we are practiced meditators who are usually able to be fully in the moment much of the time.

Is there some area where you go dead, where you get caught up in the future or the past?

For me it is around eating, especially around sweets. I can at times get caught up in a tight little pattern of circling back to the kitchen for one more of whatever treat is in the cupboard or fridge. It’s a circular journey where I get lost, even though, or maybe exactly because, I’ve done it so many times. If there is something sweet in the house, my mind can not leave it alone. I cannot rest until it is gone. Wouldn’t it be great to have the ability to pace myself, to have a little bit today, and, if I feel like it, a little bit tomorrow? I purchase or bake a treat with that very idea in mind. And then something else kicks in. There have been times in my life where I have been able to muster up the will power to steer clear of sweets all together. At these times I am very proud of myself, redefine myself as a person with a strong will, an admirable person. But that pride, pleasant as it seems, is in the end just an extra load, an extra label, and it doesn’t get to the core of the problem.

It’s rare to find a person who doesn’t have some place where they go mindless and get caught up in tight patterns. Going mindless so that we do something self-destructive and then beating ourselves up about it is a pretty toxic combination. It is the exact opposite of our paired intentions to be present and compassionate. We see the results of this mindlessness and lack of compassion all around us in the world, where people are living out tight patterns of destructive behavior, bringing misery to themselves, to those around them, to society as a whole, and to the earth.

Mindfulness meditation is a training to help us be fully present in all areas of our lives. Wise Effort encourages us to set the intention to be present, even in difficult moments so that we can see what’s going on, what sparks the mindless pattern, the words we use to make it okay, the way we might scold ourselves afterwards, perhaps the way we take it out on others, etc.

With Wise Effort, I can notice the actual sensations of my desire rather than act upon the cues I am conditioned to believe must be followed. With Wise Effort I can do this. But because of the life-long pattern of either riding the steam roller of will power or wallowing in the swamp of lethargy, finding that authentic expression of Wise Effort in this area is more challenging.

With meditation practice we are developing the ability to be conscious. We can sit with our thoughts and notice the things we tell ourselves, seeing them as threads of thoughts passing through our awareness. Since they do not define us, we can notice them without the reactivity of harsh judgment or despair. We can pay particular attention to when we find we are justifying a choice. For example, I have several sentences that repeat on a regular basis, the latest ones I’ve noticed are, ‘Grandmas should be plump,’ and ‘The fat is filling out my wrinkles and I would look older if I were thinner.’

When we find ourselves justifying our choices, that’s a clue to a challenging set of self-destructive patterns. After all, we don’t bother justifying going for a walk, eating a healthy meal or washing up.

So if you found an area in your life where Wise Effort seems to be lacking, you might want to take the time to really notice what is going on, adding spacious awareness where there is a deadening dread or a powerful drive.

Here are a few guidelines for this exercise: Try it out right after meditation or any time when you are quiet and the wise inner voice (the one that accesses our connection to all that is) can be heard. Set the intention to be present and compassionate each time you find that your mind has wandered or you are being rude to yourself.

Notice how much of what comes up is directed from outside sources, bringing up comparing mind, the inner scold and a sense of personal failure. Question the truth of everything, but do so in a respectful way.

Consider journaling as a way of noticing the way you talk to yourself and a way of making note of any insights. Let it be an interesting ongoing journey of discovery, not one more chore on your to do list.

You’ll find Wise Effort supports and sustains you in a way will power or striving never could. And remember, you don’t have to be good!

Oh, to be a Bodhisattva

(NOTE: The term Bodhisattva is from Mahayana schools of Buddhism, and I am grounded more in Theravada, the school of the elders, the one that you might say keeps the Buddha’s flame burning without additional fireworks. However, Bodhisattva has resonance for me and perhaps for you. Just hold all I am about to say lightly and then, if interested, you can explore more on your own.)

When visiting the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco we come across many images of Bodhisattva in various representations, including one with a thousand arms, called Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva who is said to hear the cries of the world and embody the compassion of the buddhas.

 

What comes up for you when you envision this thousand armed reliever of worldly pain?

I remember thinking the bodhisattva must be something like the ultimate multi-tasker, having a hand in every pot and everybody else's business. Exhausting to consider! So it helped me to hear the interpretation that each of us, when we do something with true compassion, is an arm of the bodhisattva reaching out into the world.


When we come to the term anew and learn that a person who chooses to be a bodhisattva sacrifices their own entry into nirvana until all beings can enter as well, we might imagine a superhero or a supernatural being -- certainly not something we could become. But at some point in our practice, we can revisit the idea of bodhisattva with a more spacious perspective.
In his book The Wisdom of Imperfection, British psychologist and Tibetan Buddhist meditation teacher Rob Preece writes, “A Bodhisattva chooses to live within this paradox of knowing deeply the illusory nature of the world he or she inhabits while still being willing to remain within it.”
Choosing to live within the paradox --- that’s what we do as Buddhist practitioners when we stop chasing bliss and choose to stay present fully with whatever arises.


The paradox we live with is that, on the one hand: This moment matters. We matter. Those around us matter. Our actions matter. Our words matter. How we make our livelihood matters. How we care for the earth matters. It all matters.


AND YET! Held with grace and a sense of equilibrium, we and all that we care about, do and feel is, in the grand scheme of things, gone in the blink of an eye. We can go further to say that all of this matter that seems to matter so much is most likely illusory. But if we’re not ready to recognize that, it’s enough for us, in moments when the mattering weighs heavily upon us, to remind ourselves that: Life is fleeting. We all die, some sooner some later, but death comes without exception. We are each of us only one of seven billion people in the world and it is not all up to us to solve all the problems on the planet. Our amazing beautiful earth is but a speck of dust in the vastness of space.
This is just putting things into practical perspective! 


When we can hold deeply and lightly these two seemingly opposite truths -- that it all matters/that none of it matters -- in a balanced way -- not teetering, not juggling, but opening our embrace to include it all, then we are skillfully living with the paradox. 


The ability to hold this paradox in a spacious balanced way makes life rich and meaningful, gives each moment luminosity. Perhaps we came to the practice of meditation to escape from the world that seems to be an impossibly challenging source of bottomless suffering. But with the practice of being present, we find that what gives joy and meaning to our lives is not escape, but the ability to bring a heightened awareness into this moment, to be fully engaged and caring. What we learn by being present is the existence of this wondrous paradox, that through the development of spacious, present, compassionate mind, we can be whole-heartedly engaged in the world without losing the awareness of its temporal nature.


Living with the paradox: This is our practice. We can use this sense of paradox to live joyfully, or we can misuse it, as we all do from time to time. For example: We take the sweetest moment and are sad that it will not last. In a difficult moment we try to escape to a bliss state. At times perhaps we even feel put upon to be here. “I didn’t ask to be born.” At times we may feel that nothing we do matters, so why bother?


Recognizing any tendency we may have to ‘lose heart’ in this way is part of the gift of the practice. Through quieting down in meditation, we begin to hear the ways we talk to ourselves, the stories we tell, the myths we live by, the habitual patterns of thought and emotion that course through us. Through awareness we can begin to question these thoughts. Is this true? How do I know this is true?


With full attention, we can also find within us a spark of infinite loving kindness, metta, and we can use this spark to kindle compassion for ourselves and others.


When we feel a connection with all that is, we lose the fear of disappearing. How can we disappear if our being-ness is saturated into the fabric of life? We lose the need to feel solid and unique in order to exist. We can rest in the awareness that nothing is as solid as we believed it to be. The physical world becomes diaphanous, like the sheer veils of a dancer: intoxicating, delightful but ultimately of no substance. (Science tells us this as well, but our minds connect the dots and see substance in the objects around us where in fact, at the cellular level, there is primarily space.)


The bodhisattva is able to sustain his or her deep compassion and sense of engagement, while wearing all this earthly being-ness lightly. The bodhisattva knows the nature of bliss, but instead of crossing the threshold into eternal bliss state, chooses to dance with it and weave it skillfully in his or her interactions in the world.


So if we have experienced bliss -- that sense of the ego falling away, of our pain and suffering disappearing into an infinite sense of joy, gratitude and acceptance -- and yet we choose to live in this world fully, offering a lightness of being into all our interactions, then perhaps we are already bodhisattvas. We can let go of awed admiration for some other being’s self-sacrifice, the comparing mind and the sense of personal failure. 


The bodhisattva is a being of joy! The attributes of a bodhisattva naturally arise out of ongoing dedication to a joyful practice. These attributes are known as the Six Paramitas or perfections: Morality, generosity, patience, perseverance, meditation and wisdom.


If we strive to ‘become a Bodhisattva’ we can turn these Paramitas into distant goals and beat ourselves up with the word ‘should.’ More wisely, we can use them as gentle guiding lights to expose and explore painful areas where we suffer, and let our deepening understanding and access to inner wisdom spark the bodhisattva that lives within us all.


Many of us have stood at the door to Nirvana -- perhaps a fleeting glimpse in childhood that we have since forgotten or discounted. Some of us have even stepped beyond the threshold and have recognized the eternal nature of being. All of us have the capacity to access this infinite source, if we release the fear and rest in awareness of what is true in this moment. 


Once accessed, we can choose to live inside that bliss state or, instead, allow it to live inside us, fueling us with the infinite energy of compassion. In this way we are not rejecting the gift of being alive in this world. It is no sacrifice to live from a state of full joyful appreciation whatever arises in our experience.

Insight Meditation, how 'Dharma can heal our wounds'

The short lessons we read from The Pocket Pema Chodron before my dharma talk and discussion, is often in sync with what I had planned to talk about or whatever came up before in our meeting. This week we read #87 ‘Our Predicament is Workable,” that starts with the sentence “The dharma can heal our wounds, our very ancient wounds that come not from original sin but from a misunderstanding so old that we can no longer see it.”

‘...a misunderstanding so old that we can no longer see it.” What does that mean?

We talked about how on a personal level there are many patterns that we operate with in our lives -- patterns of thinking and behavior -- that we see as our way of being, part of who take ourselves to be. We let these patterns define us even though we don’t know where they come from or how they were woven.

On a collective cultural level, we have been weaving certain traits as well, reacting to events such as climate, landscape, famine, drought, war and other threats to our well being. These culturally inherited or co-created traits also become part of our personal pattern. International travel is useful to help us see beyond what we believe to be ‘human nature’ when it’s really just our own localized set of patterns at work. We can see other nation’s collective patterns more clearly, without needing to judge them or prove one is better than another. Viva la difference! When we see how much variation there is between cultures and between individuals within cultures, we are less inclined to believe that there is one way of seeing the world or any given situation. This frees us from having to defend the particular thought patterns we are most familiar with, nor do we need to disparage them. We can simply begin to see them as a little more free-floating, a little less intrinsic to our very being.

Through mindfulness meditation we make the space to begin seeing these patterns more clearly as they arise and act out as passing thoughts or emotions. We can compassionately look at them, and at the defensiveness, shame or judgment that may arise with them. They are just patterns. As we give our minds the quiet to settle down and become spacious, we may wonder about some of the things we notice.We can perhaps focus our thinking mind, struggle to analyze these patterns and come to some conclusions. But what is this analysis and what are these conclusions but more judgment, blame and assumption? More of the same patterns?

In the space we create through our meditation practice, we can wonder in a more open creative way. For example, we can simply put out the question, “Is this true?” and then allow for our quiet attention to let the ‘answers’ arise in our awareness.

I shared with the sangha an experience I had soon after starting to meditate 30+ years ago. I was questioning an ongoing troublesome pattern I recognized, a place in my life where I tended to go dead. I asked “Why am I like this?” Then I let the question go (probably because I had asked it more in despair than in any expectation of finding an answer!) and I relaxed, resting a little longer before getting up to go about my day.

Because I was relaxed but noticing, three different vivid images of events from my past floated one by one through my awareness. I remember thinking how odd it was that these long forgotten memories would just show up like that, yet here they were. Because they came in a series, I looked for a common thread, and realized that each one offered a memory of getting shut down around this very area of concern, making me turn inward and go dead.

‘Oh!’ The answer was there as clear as if a spotlight and a close up lens had been offered up for purposes of self-exploration and discovery. This is what creating a meditative relaxed open attention to the present moment can offer up, if we are willing to stay present to notice.

A sangha member shared her own exploration of a particular knot of fear-based pattern that troubled her. She could see that the reaction that became her pattern was learned at an early age. Like most of our patterns, she saw how it made sense at the time but now, as an adult with other means and with the power of autonomy, she could respond with more skill to challenging situations.

This is part of the insight process. We notice, we question, we gain insight. And then what? Well, if we just stop there we can either develop a pattern of judging our patterns, or we can stay open and allow awareness to soften the patterns, releasing us from them. But there is something else we can do if we are wanting to continue the process a little further within a meditative self-exploration.

If we have our younger self in mind, we can compassionately reparent the child within. What does this mean? Well, especially if we are parents or have taken care of children, it is fairly easy to see our young self with a great deal of tenderness and compassion. (Whatever harsh views we hold about ourselves, certainly we can allow that as small children, no matter how we behaved, we were worthy of being loved, being held with compassion. Even the person we were in our early twenties, before the finishing touches were put on our brain’s judgment functions scientists have now discovered, can be reparented, forgiven for failures of judgment, etc.)

Whatever it was that we didn’t receive from our parents or guardians -- love, kindness or permission to be ourselves -- we can give ourselves now. We may find within us the voice of the parent that may have withheld love, been overbearing, forgot to praise or was constantly scolding or abusing us. Whatever our relationship with those who had power over us, we can fairly say they did the best they could at the time, because that’s true for us all. We each of us hold within us a set of patterns that, if we are not able to get conscious, dictate our behavior. If there is no room for forgiveness, then let that be a known knot within us, a knot that we can hold with compassion for now.

We can recognize that the still-active voice within us that replicates the parent’s voice can also be held with tenderness. It is what we have to deal with now -- not the actual parent, but the internal parent voice. (So often we feel we need to have a conversation with our elderly parent, or feel we have lost the opportunity after they die, when really it’s this inner parent that is in charge now, and it’s an inner conversation that needs to happen!)

We can hold this inner parent voice with compassion, treat it with respect, listen to its concerns, and work with it in the same way we have worked with other voices or aspects of self, all of which are knotted fear-based patterns of thought-emotion that can be seen now that we are creating an open spaciousness within our minds.

In our meditation practice we have the paired intentions to be fully present and to be compassionate with ourselves and others. With these two intentions we have the very tools we need for skillful inner exploration and insight,

Making Note
When we have insights, it is often useful to make note of them. Caveat: This can turn into a compulsion to write down everything, which turns it into something different and sometimes short circuits the process. But if some words stay with us and make a profound difference in our lives, then writing those words down and keeping them close might be useful.

I have this note to self that I wrote on a retreat pinned to my bulletin board:

I have nothing to fear
I have nothing to hide
I have nothing to prove
I have something to give.

This was a realization I had on a retreat. At the moment I wrote it, it was not a hope of a way to be but my actual experience of being. Up on the board, glanced at on occasion, it refreshes me, strengthens me, puts me back in touch with myself.

Of course what I wrote down is not always true for me. I don’t use it as an ‘affirmation’ but a way to find the truth of the current moment. I can say those words and question. Is that true?

At a recent reading an accurate statement was:

I have nothing to fear, yet I’m afraid.
I have nothing to hide yet I feel the weight of the effort to keep something buried inside me.
I have nothing to prove yet I feel myself striving to be something other than what I am.
I have something to give, yet I withhold it for fear it is not good enough.

That was the truth in the moment I wrote that statement. To work with it at the time I asked questions:

What am I afraid of? (Always a great question whatever the situation!)
What am I hiding?
What am I trying to prove?
What do I have to give?

At any given moment the answers will arise differently, so I will not record them here. This is just a reminder, a suggestion, of how to work with an insight that has captured the crux of a knotty pattern within. We each have areas that are particularly knotty, patterns however created. When we have an insight that shines a light on the knot, that makes more space between the knotted threads, that makes it easier to see the threads from more angles so we can see where the threads come from and how the tangle got so tight, then we have the opportunity to sit with it and allow it to inform us.

Can we take the time to allow the process to unfold? Can we let it arise without forcing it, without jumping too quickly to grab an easy answer and claim it as proof of our enlightenment?

May we be relaxed but alert, open in mind and heart, awakened to the moment, filled with a sense of universal kindness, able to hold whatever arises in an open embrace.

Strip, No Tease

One of our sangha members arrived at class this week saying that she had just spent the morning stripping. I supplied a line of ‘ta da da da TUM, chicka boom, chicka boom’ strip tease music, and she laughed, then amended her sentence to include that she had been stripping the altar at her church in preparation for Good Friday.

After meditation I read from our next-up weekly Pocket Pema Chodron, Lesson #86 titled ‘A Process of Surrendering,’ in which she says, ‘The journey to enlightenment involves shedding, not collecting...like taking off layer after layer of clothes until we are completely naked with nothing to hide.’ Wow, with two prompts about disrobing, how could we not make this the focus of our discussion?

The word ‘surrender’ has such a negative connotation. Only losers surrender in battle after all, and no one wants to be a loser. But there are some losses that benefit us and the act of surrender in the context of our own spiritual exploration has great value. Let’s be clear that we are not surrendering to another person, letting their will dictate our behavior. What we surrender is the tight fear that holds us back from being authentic in our lives, the layers that keep our Buddha Nature hidden.

The mention of disrobing reminded me of my piece, The Dance of the Seven Veils -- a process of becoming aware of how we hide behind layers of belief about who we are. We often hold ourselves to be the labels we have been given and have taken on. We let these layers define us and limit us. It is perceiving these layers of identity that happens with insight meditation practice. Once perceived, we can see beyond the layers. We shift our understanding of who we are. So it is a strip, but it isn’t a tease. Because underneath the layers we discover and allow to be known the self that is beyond label, beyond fear, beyond the need to prove anything to anyone.

When we sit in meditation our minds have the capacity to become spacious so that whatever arises is easier to see. We can see the tight knots of fear-based patterns, our defenses that we think protect us but in fact just keep us from sensing our deep connection with all of life. When we begin seeing, then the patterns begin to dissolve and we are able to let go of them. It’s important that we understand that this disrobing process, this surrender, is a letting go, not a pushing or tearing away. These patterns are to be held gently, compassionately up to the light of awareness. The light itself does the dissolving. To rip them to bits and throw them away is just another reactive destructive pattern that creates more dense layers that obscure rather than release.

So our surrender is an ongoing process. We surrender our spiritual striving, our ambition to become perfect beings. We are not trying to trade in one set of layers or labels for another that might be seen as nicer, holier, better. We surrender our striving when we become aware of it, noting it to be just another constricting fear. What are we afraid of? We fear disappearing if we disrobe from our layers. We fear that we are not an integral part of all that is, not an expression of the oneness of being.

Metta practice is very helpful for revealing our deep unbreakable connection to all that is. We send metta (loving kindness) to ourselves and to all beings. Developing awareness of the quality of universal kindness and compassion allows us to sense that we are also held by it, that we are loved, have always been loved, will always be loved. No matter what.

With a balance of insight and metta, we can begin to surrender the self-hatred that is inherent in so many of our patterns, that then ricochets against others as well.

Our Buddha nature is not on some distant mountain top but sitting quietly within us, waiting patiently to be heard.

Gratitude for Silence

Following up on my recent review of The Dhamma Brothers, last night I saw the movie based on Elizabeth Gilbert’s memoir Eat, Pray, Love. I imagine most people have read the book or seen the movie or both, so I won’t bother commenting on anything other than how the section in the Indian ashram reminded me how glad I am that I go on SILENT retreats!

Although retreatants at the ashram could take a vow of silence and would wear a badge saying “I am in silence,’ that vow didn’t look to be the norm. When Elizabeth tried to sit quietly she was constantly accosted by a soon-to-be friend Richard, a gruff American who took to calling her ‘Groceries’ because of the amount of food on her plate. This labeling didn’t feel the least bit endearing to me, nor to her, and she reacted defensively to his running commentary on her shortcomings and misunderstandings. Yes, he did soften up, show his own vulnerability and became a friend, but I don’t understand how he felt he had the right to invade her quiet moments at every turn with his brutal instruction.

So this is a little note of gratitude to Spirit Rock and all meditation centers where silence on retreats is the norm rather than an individual choice. When we are freed of the need to interact, either through words, gestures or eye contact, with other people, then our spiritual journey is authentically our own. We have instruction from teachers, guidance at appointed times or whenever we request it, but our co-retreatants, our sangha sibling, honor our practice by giving us space and having their own. In this way, we practice together, inspiring through our dedication to a time-honored tradition.

After our disrobing discussion in class earlier in the day, watching this movie and seeing Richard’s barrage of intrusions into Elizabeth’s experience felt like watching psychic attacks, ripping off her layers instead of honoring her process. It had a violence to it and was totally inappropriate.

In class we had just been talking about our unique spiritual paths, and how none of us can walk another’s path. We can perhaps suggest taking along water, a compass, a good pair of shoes, etc. We could at rough moments offer a cup of tea and a listening ear. This is the role of sangha. But the spiritual trail we choose and the way we hike it is our own journey.

We took turns talking about our own journeys, what nurtures our spiritual sense of well-being and what inspires us. You might take a few minutes now to check in with your own journey. Whatever it is, or isn’t, it is yours and yours alone. It is only with respect that we can support each other, giving room to grow in our own way at our own pace, discovering what we need to know when we need to know it, and not a minute sooner!

In that spirit, may this blog be a support in your exploration. Feel free to peruse the list on the right for topics that speak to you at any given time.

I honor your journey.

The Dhamma Brothers

I recently saw the documentary The Dhamma Brothers. I had been following the news story over the past years of Vipassana retreats being held in Alabama prisons, so I was very interested in seeing this film about it, now available to rent. (If the word Dhamma is not familiar to you: Dhamma is the Pali word interchangeable with the Sanscrit word Dharma. Both mean the Buddha’s teachings, the truth.)

Thoughts that came up for me while watching:

If prisoners with violent pasts and challenges that are difficult for most of us to imagine find such value in the practice, then certainly we can as well. As we practice we see the tight knots of fear within our thoughts and emotions. These men who went on a ten day retreat within prison walls began to see the tight knotted patterns of their thoughts and emotions that had made their past actions seem justifiable. The practice of silent meditation let them begin to see things more clearly as they let down their defenses that had kept them from being able to take responsibility.

If the practice can make such a difference in the lives of those in our society who are prone to inflict the most violence, (and to hear them describe the events that led to their incarceration is terrifying), then meditative practice -- learning how to be in the present moment, aware of what arises and developing compassion for ourselves and all beings, with a special focus on those we may have harmed, is the key to creating a peaceful society.

For those who feel prisoners don’t ‘deserve’ to meditate, there is a misunderstanding of thinking meditation is some kind of easy escape, a holiday, a spacing out. It's true that some people try to use it that way, but the Vipassana meditation being taught on this retreat was anything but an escape. On the contrary, insight meditation is a willingness to come face to face with our mindless destructive patterns that can leave devastation in their wake. The interviewed retreatants came to, maybe for the first time, a real understanding of the pain they had caused others.

So much of my own Vipassana silent retreat experience has been spent in communing with nature because I attend retreats at Spirit Rock Meditation Center, nestled in the oak-studded hills of Northern California. In between periods of sitting practice, we do walking practice often outside in nature. Rest periods and breaks can be spent outdoors, and the buildings are spaced at a distance apart so that even going to and fro takes one out into nature. After the last sit of the evening, walking slowly back to the dormitory, looking up into the deep sky or walking through the mist, is such a powerful gift. How different it must be to spend a retreat entirely in a locked gymnasium divided into eating, sleeping and practice spaces by blue tarps strung on rope.

Yet within the confines of that gym was a true retreat from a world inside the prison where one must always be on guard. Letting go of defenses within the retreat, the practitioners truly entered an interior spaciousness, their own true nature.

Where we sit is not anywhere near so important as the sitting itself. We can get caught up in needing the perfect setting, and postpone or deny ourselves our practice. I once taught meditation in a gym -- well, actually in a fitness club. The small room given me to teach in was not at all sound proof, and the noise of the exercise equipment in use on the floor above, and the occasional booming of music when a receptionist up front forgot there was meditation going on, gave an unusual quality to the experience. I told my students, “If you can meditate here you can meditate anywhere.” That stint added an awareness of how important it is not to set ourselves up to believe that conditions have to be just right for meditation.

Meditation can happen anywhere. I call it a portable practice and encourage meditators not to rely on external conditions -- tapes, altars, a particular set up, etc. To be an altar unto ourselves, to have a practice that does not rely on sitting in a position that we could not do in an airport waiting area. The bare bones of relying on the sitz bones and erect spine to support us, to let our muscles relax, to be balanced and aligned, can be accomplished anywhere by a trained meditator. Seeing how these prisoners were able to meditate was proof that all we need is the skill to practice.

The dedication with which the incarcerated meditators continued to practice together after their ten day retreat, the way each continued their personal practice, even when denied the right to do so, is truly inspiring. When we feel as if we don’t have the time or conditions aren’t right, it is quite useful to remember these men and the distractions and discouragements to practice that they face, yet they persist, because it means so much and makes such a difference.

The men were of various faiths and the meditation was not taught as a religion. Because the program was challenged on the grounds of proselytizing a particular faith, it is important for all of us to remember that meditation is a practice that enhances being present, being able to listen, being patient, being compassionate and getting to know the inner workings of our minds and in what ways our patterns of reactivity and resistance that have caused us and others such suffering can be softened and dissipated. In this way meditators are often more able to find their own religion strengthened, because they are more present with it. It’s such an important thing for the religious to understand and let go of the idea of meditation being a threat to belief.

The Dhamma Brothers is an incredibly inspiring story for anyone who meditates or would like to, as well as for anyone who thought there is no way to find internal peace if one’s life isn’t perfect. It is also extremely important viewing for anyone who believes that the solution to crime is to lock people up and throw away the key. Lock them up if they have shown themselves to be harmful to others, but don’t give up on them. Provide training, insight and compassion, and those who have the willingness to undertake the challenge, have the capacity to transform dramatically.

Given this possibility, how can we not give them that opportunity? It is not an indulgence, but an intelligent response to a dense difficult problem. Since it cannot be forced, but must be undertaken willingly, obviously not all will benefit. But even those who do not undertake it benefit from an environment where there is the possibility of transformation, and where there is an energy of peacefulness growing, making it safe to breathe.

May the meditators in this film know that when we say, “May all beings be well, may all beings be happy, may all beings be at ease, may all beings be at peace,” as we do at the end of every class, that they are very much included in our well wishing. As are the filmmakers, guards, teachers, fellow prisoners who did not participate, all of their families, and the people who support and promote this program, and yes, including those who would shut it down. May their hearts be opened.