No one comes to spirituality for shits-&-giggles. Our
arrival on the spiritual path is precipitated by our own suffering. Often times
this suffering is exaggerated, but sometimes it is not. Regardless of the
extremity, the contrast we experience between our anxious-stressed out
“9-to-5″ world, and the simplicity of the meditation cushion is
an impressionable event.
Initially, the freshness and simplicity of the spiritual
path sticks out like a sore, but welcomed, thumb in the hectic world of
deadlines, bills, and soccer practice. But after a while, our practice looses
it’s edge. Relaxation is no longer something to be found in the practice of
meditation. Rather, the practice of meditation becomes just another “to-do” on
our list. Instead of being the refuge it once was, meditation is transformed into
just another burden. That is, something we think we should make time
for, while simultaneously resenting and rebelling against the idea that it
is an indispensable part of our lives.
Despite the fact that meditation has become just another
chore we have to pencil in, when, in the midst of a
stressful situation, we always seem to euphorically recall our cushion.
When we find ourselves on the tail end of a heated argument with our
spouse, pressed to meet a deadline, or anxiously navigating through rush-hour
traffic it becomes apparent to us that we need to take some time to ourselves
and relax. We recognize the need to relax, and we associate relaxation with
those deep moments of tranquility we experienced during the honeymoon phase of
our relationship with meditation. Our minds will always remember the breath of
fresh air that our practice once was. Unfortunately, this fixed memory sets us
up for failure and frustration, as our new medicinal outlook on meditation
deflates the practice; transforming it into an antidote or something else that
we must do, which only adds to our anxiety and irritation.
If there is one thing I have learned in my short
life it is that life is simple. But this simplicity is contingent upon trusting
myself, and trusting my self can be confusing.
In other words, the movement toward meditation is
intelligent and appropriate, but we tend to translate
this movement of intelligence using a dead language. Let’s say,
for example, that you are at work. You have a bazillion things
to get done. Then, your boss pops his head in to tell you,
“Corporate called and they want those reports by the end of the
day!” You spend the day climbing over yourself trying
to finish a weeks worth the work in 8 hours. Then, in the midst of
your breakdown, a fundamental feeling emerges. This gut feeling seems to
be a movement toward simplicity. But, when translated through the medium of
conceptualization, this intelligence is thought to be saying, “We
need to stop what we are doing, find a quite place, and sit in the cross-legged
posture with a single-pointed awareness of the breath.” This suppresses the
voice of intelligence by converting the need for basic awareness or mindfulness
into a specific activity that can only be accomplished once the deadline has been
met, dinner has been cooked, and kids have been put to sleep. It places
an immediate need on the back burner, thereby denying yourself
the opportunity to wake-up. The movement of basic intelligence, even in
the most uncomfortable examples, is always towards awakening—trust
it!
This misunderstanding happens because ego-centric
thought establishes or completes itself through relationship with
some fixed reference point. You see, fundamental intelligence is always
operable—basic sanity is the uncensored ground all of our discursive commentary
seeks to decipher. It is thought that seeks to translate or decipher this raw
information. The institution of thought tries to render the natural expression
of intelligence into some discernible language. This is what it means
to second guess yourself; to not trust your gut.
The gut is always on target, but we curiously twist it.
Thought listens to that fundamental feeling and says, “Aw, yes. What you really
want is such-&-such.” The only material thought has to work with
is the repository of experiences stored away in the memory. In fact, thinking
is the memory in motion. Dualistic thought reaches back into the past to
discover a fixed memory associated with the idea being expressed by basic
intelligence. Then, that little problem solver lodged in our skull projects
this expired information into the future and calls it a “solution.” Basic
intelligence says, “Stop. Breathe. Feel the earth.” The ego interrupts and
says, “Oh, what you want is to sit on your cushion and meditate.” This
interpretation makes meditation obsolete and inappropriate, as
the circumstances do not permit such an activity right now. We are
forced to ignore the basic need for simplicity, and carry on with our nervous
breakdown. Or exert ourselves even more, in order to gain dominion over our
circumstances, and forcibly implement our little solution.
We cannot sit cross-legged and watch our breath while we
are driving the kids home from school. In reality, the
experience itself—the fundamental feeling—is communicating an appropriate
and immediate need. ‘Feel the earth beneath your feet. Feel the wind
rushing through your car window. Feel your butt firmly resting in your chair.
Feel, feel, feel! Get out of your head. Come back to your body. You are a
human; remember that, right now!’
Meditation is now or never. Instead of immunizing your
practice, let it breathe. Let it live. The practice is alive. Discover the
freshness and precision of basic sanity within the context of your daily life.
Don’t put it off until later. Later will never come. Later is a make-believe
place. Don’t transform your practice into a stale and expired idea
dependent upon circumstance. In formal practice, the breath is but a symbol of
the present moment. Returning to the breath is an example of
returning to reality or the present moment. Learn to trust yourself. Open
your gaze and realize that everything is a symbol of reality. If you want to
let your practice fly, set it free. Extract the essence, which is reality.
Then, throughout the day look to discover that essence. This is the movement of
intelligence. Eventually you will discover that basic intelligence and reality
are of one-taste or one essence. It will become as clear as day that
the true nature of mind is reality. Finally, the practice comes to an end, as
the mind rests with reality since the two cannot be separated.
