Suffering

Suffering

I listen, again, as believers,
one, two, and three, sing songs
of the end of pain, of happiness,
and of generous hearts.

Meanwhile, my own suffering,
so evident and open to sight,
lays on the table between us,
ignored, without response,
undignified, and beneath contempt.
As if the thing itself was
an inconvenience, an interruption
of joy, a nuisance which slows
them from reaching their spiritual goals.

And you ask me why I excuse myself,
leaving the invisible thing
in their midst, and closing
the door, to stroll away,
through the quiet lights of dawn.

- Jon Jackson

Contemplating Pain

Anne Morrow Lindbergh wrote, "Go with the pain, let it take you...open your palms and your body to the pain. It comes in waves like a tide, and you must be open as a vessel lying on the beach, letting it fill you up and then, retreating, leaving you empty and clear...With a deep breath--it has to be as deep as the pain--one reaches a kind of inner freedom from pain, as though the pain were not your but your body's. The spirit lays the body on the alter."
As our lives, our moments offer us opportunity to be with difficulty, the constant temptation to move away from pain seduces us. We can enter into states of denial, creating illusions that our difficulties do not exist; we can give into distractions, like wine, lust, and career competitions; we can hide our fears with unnecessary expressions of power and ego.
Sometimes pain is our experience. When we retreat from it, we disconnect from our reality, falling into illusion.
Today, strive to be with all your experiences--those that are pleasant, and those that disorient. Whether on your run, when your lungs burn, your eyes fill with salty sweat, and your legs throb--or in the solitude of your fear--fear of aging, of disease, illness; or the fear of losing a loved one. Make meaning. Be present.

Being on the path

Hagen writes, "Wouldn't it be great if I could create this or do that or avoid those?...our basic problem is our preoccupation with pleasing and protecting ourselves."

As the Michigan winter continues with its gray, frigid, windy presence, my friends all around wish for warmer weather, different climates, sandy beaches...anything other than what we have (and have had for 6 weeks and will continue to have for at least 2 more months!). Taking a stroll out of my West Village office, around the corner to Chelsea Piers was a great experience; I'm fond of that memory and of the photo that prefaces this post. But today I have the present. Indeed, every moment I only have the present...and then it is gone, replaced by a new present moment.

In Sangha this past Sunday the passage I've quoted above got quite a bit of airplay. We discussed how our actions, feelings, fears, hopes, and perceived expectations of others often lead us to please or self-protect. We also discussed our perceptions of "being on the path." But are we ever not on the path?

This moment is my path, and my actions at this moment are my practice. The path is infinite--without beginning and without end--without parameters. My path has a broad shoulder, some rocky terrain, some peaceful shade trees, and even some lovely city lawns near the water where I can repose. My path is everpresent--it is only my delusions that can allow me to imagine that I have left the path.

What does your path look like? Are you in rocky terrain or on a lovely sandy path toward cool water? What is your practice today? Is your practice embracing the chair your sitting in while you read this? The coffee or tea you're enjoying? Or is your practice dancing with fear or imagined catastrophes? Be with your practice and on your path.

The Itch in Your Mind: More Thoughts on Steve Hagen

Hagen writes that we often seek enlightenment to escape delusion. I am often aware of my own difficulties with embracing tranquility. If enlightenment includes a state of tranquility, have we not been, at least those of us in Western countries, strongly discouraged from being tranquil and therefore, perhaps from being enlightened?

When I choose to write, or sit, or do any one thing, my mind flits from option to option. I feel compelled to make lists, set goals, and accrue accomplishments. I have moments of repose, but they often seem like activities on the list that can be checked off.

Pema Chodron wrote, "Even the simplest of things can be the basis of practice--a beautiful morning, a good meal, a shower." After listening to a Zencast, I accepted the reality that our actions are our practice. We do not go about life, then go about our practice--they are one in the same--inseparable. That, it seems is the essence of integrity. And, because we are all interconnected, my practice is an element of yours, and your practice contributes to mine. When I take time to notice the beautiful morning, have I not contributed to the stillness of my community? When I enjoy a meal with friends, do we all not slow our eating and create interconnectedness?

When we engage in the delusion of separateness, we distance ourselves from the moment; we hold our spiritual breath. Hagen writes that "we keep hoping that somehow we'll throw the right spiritual switch and enlightenment will flash on at last." This passage has brought awareness to my propensity to plan, often as a way to put off reality: "I'm on the path; erring and erring I walk the unerring path; this is part of my journey and I'm just not there yet." And so it goes...

Inherent in this deluded way of thinking is the message that I am not enough yet, and that I need more. More enlightenment, more accomplishments, more books, more Zencasts...if my life is my practice, then I suppose I also need more physical fitness, more fiscal responsibility, more professional accomplishments.

But, when I accept the reality that all I have is what I have at this moment, and that what I have allows for spontaneous enlightenment, then I have a profound sense of responsibility. That my energies and actions matter. That when I practice lovingkindness I contribute to the celestial collectiveness of our being.

Hagen writes, "there can only be one place: right here, right now."

What is your practice? How do you express your enlightenment?