DHARMA SPRING

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There is always something at work within us, working upon us. We sense this at various times in our lives, again. It is often what inspires one to take up a spiritual journey, in hopes of knowing it more intimately and connecting with it more deeply. As we journey along, there are times when we are in touch with it directly, but it doesn't last, fades away, leading us to seek it out once again, reaching back for when it was and/or moving onward and reaching forward for when it will come around again. And there are times along the journey when we are in touch with it directly and fully, so much so that words can't adequately express it and understanding can't encompass it fully, and it remains, abiding, deepening. However it is met and experienced, it is always right here, functioning fully, effortlessly, endlessly. Yes, as the workings within us and upon us, and as the workings of us: in all we do and all we are, we are the working itself.

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There is something always at work within us, working upon us, beneath and beyond our usual ways of working with and upon things. These workings in the deeper and darker places are not in opposition to those usual ways, nor are they dependent upon them; they benefit, nourish and encourage one another mutually and equally, enlivened and enriched through the connection they share. This connection expands throughout and beyond our particular workings to all things, each and every one, without exception, conspiring with us and on our behalf, for the sake of our awakening. Listen. Listen. 

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When we don't reject our experience for what it is, or reach for something beyond it because of what it isn't, what is discovered? When we look through, beyond, beneath our ideas of what should and shouldn't be, what we think is required to be fulfilled, at peace, happy, allowing our sight so expand beyond such limitations, what do we see? When settled deeply into the journeying itself - with all its ups and downs, ins and outs, forwards and backwards - what is illuminated, and what shines forth in and of itself?

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In one version of the story about the historical Buddha, the Middle Way is spoken of using an analogy of tuning a string: if it is too tight, it will snap; if it is too slack, it cannot be played at all. Fortunately, though we may believe or be told otherwise, there is not a specific note to which the tune must be tuned; in between the extremes of too tight and too slack, there is a vast and varied range of playability, beyond the limits and confines of a single note. The same is true of our lives: there are extremes we can go to which are ultimately unhelpful, yet in between these there is a vast and varied territory of life and the living of it, calling for continual adjusting and adapting and re-tuning. Thus, there is not just one way of being or one way to be, for just as life itself is in constant flux, so are we. 

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In Zen it is said there are 108 delusions of the mind, thus at the New Year a bell is struck 108 times to ring these delusions out and away. Throughout Buddhism there is also the well-known figure Manjushri, Bodhisattva of Wisdom, who wields a diamond sword that cuts through delusions. Yet, despite the ringing of bells and swinging of swords, delusions come rolling back in and springing up once again, endlessly, it seems, making 108 seem like a vastly conservative estimate. However, I propose that there is only one delusion, serving as the root and source of all delusions: a mistaken belief, perspective and understanding that pops up again and again when we meet our experiences, our lives, ourselves: this isn't it. It's a delusion that motivates us to discard and reject what is right in front of and within us, setting off on countless journeys and wanderings, seeking and searching, searching, searching. Understanding and exploring this one delusion can aid us in setting all delusions to rest. But make no mistake: its territory is tricky and the business therein as risky as ever, for though it is only one, it is still delusion after all, through and through.

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The roads and pathways of our minds are varied and endless, as is the traveling among them. In meditation, the traveling a can be like rolling along an empty highway through a spacious, open landscape; as we go about our daily doings and beings, it can be like driving and navigating the familiar streets and avenues of one's hometown; and when encountering people, events, and situations with particular charges of energy, it can be like getting swept up in rush hour, stuck in a traffic jam, redirected by construction, or delayed by an accident. The quality of our experience changes in accord with the situation we find ourselves in, relentlessly so at times. Yet there is single ground running beneath all these roads - a ground of awareness -  with which we can always be in touch, regardless of circumstances, and that can make all the difference as we journey endlessly along.

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Sometimes, after many years of sincere effort, diligence and determination, we finally reach a place and state of being we have longed for, with a deep sense of having arrived, at long last. Along the way, we develop skills and ways of being that support and fortify us, coming forth more and more naturally, effortlessly, accompanied by a similar feeling of having figured ourselves out, at long last. It's good to come to such places and develop such ways of being, and it's good to be able to lean and rest upon them, to be sustained and encouraged by them, and to continue to nourish them. And it's also good to notice that, in time, the power, vitality and relevance they hold changes and fades, and thus the time for setting out and moving on comes about once more. Though tempting, there's no need to find fault here - with the place, with the skills, with ourselves - nor to analyze the situation to figure out what went wrong and attempt to amend it, in hopes of recapturing what was. What's called for is noticing, acknowledging, and responding to and in accord with the situation at hand. Bearing this in mind as we journey through and among the endless comings and goings of life, we come to see more clearly, abundantly, and simply this: when it's time to stay, stay; when it's time to go, go.

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Ah, the perennial entangled and entangling territory of identity and self. Zen practice is good at helping us release and get untangled from such territories for a time, as well as noticing our habits of grabbing onto and entering once more into them. But then there’s the issue of breaking those habits completely, which is indeed no simple undertaking. Much of the time, we get more caught up in the process of exchanging a bad habit for a good one – the self-improvement project; other times we attempt to eschew identity and self altogether, but that’s just the same old habit in reverse – taking on the identity of non-identity. But there is a way to break the identity-and-self habit and encounter a spacious, lasting freedom, within and among it all, through meeting rather than avoiding, welcoming rather than rejecting, and being oneself truly and completely, more so than ever before.

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When engaging with an ancient tradition such as Buddhism in our contemporary times, we can find ourselves in a "terminology minefield." We're often presented with a succinct translation of teachings and concepts, even though a single word from the language of the original text often has multiple, varying meanings. Therefore, if we land solidly and firmly on any one of those meanings - BOOM! Game over. And can you imagine how humongous the texts would be if scholars attempted to include the various meanings? Providing a succinct translation is practical and helpful, and it is equally practical and helpful for us to be aware of the greater field from which that translation comes, taking it all in and becoming aware of how much is actually there, making it what it is. Doing so benefits the tradition, freeing it from the constraints narrow definitions and limited understandings, opening it up, expanding it, keeping it fresh, relevant, alive. The talk at hand is in service of that.

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When we want to achieve or reach something such as happiness, peace, stability or even enlightenment and freedom in the deepest sense, the very thing we are seeking turns out to be the largest obstacle to our achieving it. This is because we have ideas of what it is, what it looks like, how it is to function from such a place, who and how and what we will be once we have it, once we're there. Along with these ideas come lists of requirements, of what we must do and who we must be and become in order to reach this place, to deserve such a thing. Combining all of this, what we end up with is something that is conditional. It's easy to see this conditionality when we look at the path we've constructed to lead us along; and it's important to recognize and acknowledge that, should we achieve the very thing we're seeking, its conditionality remains. In light of this, it's good to recall words from the historical Buddha: all conditioned existence is marked by suffering and dissatisfaction. Thus, by extension, anything we achieve through a conditional path will be marked by suffering and dissatisfaction. Fortunately, there is happiness, peace, stability, enlightenment and freedom that exist unconditionally. Right here, right now, naturally, intrinsically, undeniably. All beyond anything one could ever imagine, which is precisely the point.

(Please note: this talk features a surprise cameo by Siri around the halfway point, and she is right on point and sublime - if you listen for nothing else than that, it'll be worth it.)

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