June 12, 2023
BE.HERE.NOW.
“Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter.
If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life.”
“Ten Thousand Flowers in Spring” by Wu-Men, The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry. © Harper Perennial, 1993.
Years ago, at a yoga retreat, we were given an exercise which effected me profoundly. It came back to me today as I sat outdoors in a sheltered, sunny spot watching the world go by. The exercise we were given at the ashram was broken into four parts. We were first asked to reflect on what we would do if we only had a year to live. We then went off for an hour or so to ponder that question. After writing about a hundred things I wanted to do with the time I had left, I returned to the classroom and was asked to reflect on what I would do with six months to live. In the next hour I whittled my list down to half. Following that the class was given a week to live. My list consisted of writing letters to special people in my life. Maybe the odd phone call. Thereafter our final assignment was to choose what we would do with one hour to live. Shelving all my hasty plans, I walked around to the sheltered lee of an isolated cabin and sat in the sun, watching the light shimmer and dance on the waves of Kootenay Lake. Did not think, plan, scheme. Silently absorbed the sights and sounds, the smells and sensations of that quiet, peaceful space. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to be. Simply bearing witness to my surroundings.
Reflecting on those “final” moments, I suddenly understood on a visceral level what Trungpa meant by basic goodness:
“When you experience the goodness of being alive, you can respect who and what you are. You need not be intimidated by lots of bills to pay, diapers to change, food to cook, or papers to be filed. Fundamentally, in spite of all those responsibilities, you begin to feel that it is a worthwhile situation to be a human being, to be alive, not afraid of death.”
According to Trungpa, a prerequisite to experiencing this goodness of being alive is meditation, which in turn is meant to synchronize body and mind. Meditation doesn’t come easily to me. At least not what I think meditation is supposed to be. Nor is it easy to explain in a blog. So I thought I’d take the memory of that peaceful hour by the lake and see if it fit Trungpa’s description.
“Synchronizing mind and body is looking and seeing directly beyond language. This is not because of a disrespect for language but because your internal dialogue becomes subconscious gossip. You develop your own poetry and daydreams; you develop your own swear words; and you begin to have conversations between you and yourself and your lover and your teacher—all in your mind. On the other hand, when you feel that you can afford to relax and perceive the world directly, then your vision can expand. You can see on the spot with wakefulness.”
Bearing witness to my surroundings at the ashram on Kootenay Lake, without my usual stream of internal chatter, is about as close as I’ve ever come to synchronizing mind and body. From that experience, I can suggest a beginner’s way to meditate:
Take a comfortable seat in a quiet corner of your home, in or out of doors. Start by spending five or ten minutes simply observing your surroundings. Just observing. What do you see, feel, hear? If your mind fixates on anything — maybe you see a cobweb you hadn’t noticed before and have an urge to clear it, or hear an ambulance screaming past and wonder what’s happened — just acknowledge that. Let it pass. You’ll get to that. For whatever length of time you decide to sit in silence, relax and perceive the world directly.
“In that way, synchronizing mind and body is also connected with developing fearlessness. By fearlessness, we do not mean that you are willing to jump off a cliff or to put your naked finger on a hot stove. Rather, here fearlessness means being able to respond accurately to the phenomenal world altogether. It simply means being accurate and absolutely direct in relating with the phenomenal world by means of your sense perceptions, your mind, and your sense of vision.”
To me, this translates as acknowledging my immediate experience of and engagement with my surroundings, with what’s happening in the here and now. Bringing my undivided attention to where I am, to what I am feeling and perceiving from moment to moment. Bringing full awareness to what I and others are doing, and responding accordingly, if a response is called for. Fearlessly.
It means giving the inner narrator a break. Try it. You’ll thank me one day.