Looking back, everything happens for a reason. The reason remains unknown until we learn our lesson. Sometimes the lesson comes in a short time, and sometimes it takes a very long time. But such is nature’s will–or nature’s playfulness, if you must.
Life does not obey our limited imagination; life shoves us into her fathomless possibilities. No matter how much we try–how much we crawl, walk, sprint, run, stop, or go… She knows. Every step; every word; every thought. The outcome is never in our hands.
It’s almost like she wants to know if, despite all odds, we can still have the humility to trust her. The heart that understands, how small we really are in the scheme of things. Eyes that see the tiny miracles and synchronicities she offers in our path. A mind that understands, how imbecilic we are without divine support.
That’s why, the moment we start tangling up accolades and achievements with our self-worth – our intelligence – is the moment we let our ego take over and stop trusting her. As a result, we begin to suffer. With every failure, and even success. The whole process stops being organic and fluid. We start putting up barriers, get defensive, and bam! The flow narrows or stops altogether and thetrust is broken.
With that said, I’m beginning to understand what it means to embrace the unknown. It is ok to not understand. Every moment is perfect and intended as it is. There is no need to micromanage.
It doesn’t mean we stop trying; just this time, we try with faith, even when it’s inconvenient.
“To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter … to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird’s nest, or over a wild flower in spring—these are some of the rewards of the simple life.”
Because enlightenment is not foot race to be won nor is nirvana a medal to be pinned on the chest.
Siddhartha was a man. A human being. Meditation is a beneficial practice. I am certain that the Buddha did not stop bathing either.
Learn to silence the chatter in your mind. Learn to allow thoughts to pass by without engaging them. Learn to recognize ego and the illusions of the senses.
Stop looking for saviors. We must, each of us, save ourselves.
How exactly did Siddhartha Gautama, known in his time as Gautama, the Sage of the Sakyas, plan to keep his promise to spare us from “sickness, old age and death”? He was either lying to us, speaking figuratively or, something else. In the West, with the prophets and even Jesus they take the “allegory” route. They didn’t mean those stories as actual fact but to have some deep spiritual meaning. Some Buddhists do this too since many of the stories and fanciful and full of gods and goddesses and the thirty-three heavens.
Except, the Buddha left some science behind along with the stories.
This new science detailed the complex relationship between thought and emotion and thought and the physical body. These were practices designed to train the subject in increasing awareness and control of thought over the body and emotion. The goal is equanimity, an untroubled heart, complete NONREACTIVITY to all externals, all things outside our control. Not uncaring detachment, We remain always compassionate, always dedicated to helping others but we are internally unmoved even as our own deaths approach.
Our emotions and our thoughts are tied closely together through a nerve called the “vagus nerve”. The vagus nerve is a thick T1 cable between our neo-cortex and the enteric nervous system located in our gut and solar plexus where we “feel” emotion. If you have ever had a “gut” feeling, an experience which was “visceral,” or you have “butterflies” in your stomach … well you know what I am talking about. Emotion and thought are bound tightly together. If you can control thought, you can control emotion and you CAN control thought.
Next Section: Real Practice
Let us experiment. The next time you feel loss, sadness or anger go to your meditation space or some quiet place. Sit down. Back straight and begin your yogic breathing. Slow, regular in and out through the nose. Focus on this feeling. Tell yourself, in your inner voice, “I am feeling this.” Try and detach your “self” from the feeling. Now, let us say you were upset because you just lost your favorite ring. You feel “sick” over it. (Notice these expressions). The truth is we do feel nauseous when afraid, sad, or feeling a keen loss. It is this “gut brain” of ours. Now, think about the lost ring … does the feeling increase? While remaining as detached as possible … try and make the feeling grow stronger and then weaker. Just say “I’m feeling this right now” and “I understand what is happening within my mind and body.” “I am just feeling loss (or anger or sadness). Focus on the actual physical sensation, note its location, note the intensity, note changes in intensity. The key here is not just to “make it go away” but to develop a “feeling” of connection between conscious thought and the negative emotion so that it can be controlled. You will become familiar with this connection, and it will eventually become like a garment you can take on or off at will.
In this way you familiarize yourself with the separation of the mind’s experience from the body’s experience. Practice this every single time you experience a powerful negative emotion. Eventually, you will come to have a little control over it, then more control until you could, though your conscious mind to control this ordinarily, uncontrollable emotional experience.
What does this mean? It means you have developed concentration. It means you have taken a big step toward developing mindfulness. More practically, it means that you now have the tools to achieve serenity and to no longer be like a leaf in the wind blown hither and fro by events outside of your control.
That’s how my teacher, Ajaan Fuang, once characterized his debt to his teacher, Ajaan Lee. His words took me by surprise. I had only recently come to study with him, still fresh from a school where I had learned that serious Buddhists took a negative, pessimistic view of the world. Yet here was a man who had given his life to the practice of the Buddha’s teachings, speaking of the world’s brightness. Of course, by “brightness” he wasn’t referring to the joys of the arts, food, travel, sports, family life, or any of the other sections of the Sunday newspaper. He was talking about a deeper happiness that comes from within. As I came to know him, I gained a sense of how deeply happy he was. He may have been skeptical about a lot of human pretenses, but I would never describe him as negative or pessimistic. “Realistic” would be closer to the truth. Yet for a long time I couldn’t shake the sense of paradox I felt over how the pessimism of the Buddhist texts could find embodiment in such a solidly happy person.
Only when I began to look directly at the early texts did I realize that what I thought was a paradox was actually an irony — the irony of how Buddhism, which gives such a positive view of a human being’s potential for finding true happiness, could be branded in the West as negative and pessimistic.
You’ve probably heard the rumor that “Life is suffering” is Buddhism’s first principle, the Buddha’s first noble truth. It’s a rumor with good credentials, spread by well-respected academics and Dharma teachers alike, but a rumor nonetheless. The truth about the noble truths is far more interesting. The Buddha taught four truths — not one — about life: There is suffering, there is a cause for suffering, there is an end of suffering, and there is a path of practice that puts an end to suffering. These truths, taken as a whole, are far from pessimistic. They’re a practical, problem-solving approach — the way a doctor approaches an illness, or a mechanic a faulty engine. You identify a problem and look for its cause. You then put an end to the problem by eliminating the cause.
“There’s the space that seems to be out there, like the sky and the ocean and the wind, and there’s the space that seems to be inside. We could let the whole thing mix up. We could let the whole thing just dissolve into each other and into one big space. Practice is about allowing a lot of space. It’s about learning how to connect with that spaciousness that’s inside, and the spaciousness that’s outside. It’s about learning to relax, soften, and open — to connect with the sense that there’s actually a lot of room.”
– Pema Chödron from the book “How to Meditate: A Practical Guide to Making Friends with Your Mind”