Tag Archives: Buddha

Balancing the Three Legs of Practice

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I often think of dharma practice like a tripod, with three legs that create balance. On one leg there‘s meditation, including daily practice and retreats; on another is mindfulness in daily life; the third is sangha practice.

Let’s start with meditation. For many, establishing a consistent daily meditation practice is quite challenging. It requires making a commitment to carving out time to disengage from the ingrained distractions and patterns that inevitably arise in daily life.  Often when people say they don’t have time to meditate, it’s really that they aren’t making the time, which may otherwise be used to watch television or engage in online and other activities.  Meditation requires that we face ourselves, including all of our imperfections, leaving nothing out. Sometimes our sitting may be lovely and restful, even transcendent, at other times challenging and wobbly. But the key to a consistent practice is the willingness to receive all that arises in our awareness with an open and compassionate heart. This isn’t always easy, but its how the fruits of practice begin to ripen and transform our lives.

For the committed practitioner, meditation retreats are not a luxury but a vital part of deepening the practice. Concentrated time spent away from daily distractions helps us access parts of our minds and hearts that are otherwise out of reach; retreats help us contact our deepest evaded realities. If your life situation prevents you from traveling afar or carving out chunks of time for retreats, take advantage of daylong retreats as often as you can and shorter residential retreats that only last a weekend.

Practicing mindfulness in daily life is also vital to waking up. Some traditions emphasize sitting meditation and forget to focus on “off the cushion” practice. This creates an imbalance in the tripod; it can set up a firewall from everyday life. For our practice to deepen, we need to align what we learn in our seated practice with our daily lives. One of the best ways to bring mindfulness into daily life is practicing mindfulness of the body. This is a deceptively simple yet deep practice: Buddha said that mindfulness of the body leads to enlightenment. We’re so often caught up in our busyness, our activities and thoughts that we lose our connection with this moment. Our bodies are always right here, ready and available to serve as an anchor for our present moment awareness. Bringing mindfulness to your body is an uncomplicated yet powerful practice you can do throughout the day to root your awareness in this moment and disengage from reactive patterns and habitual thoughts.  You can still plan, think and carry out your activities, but you can do it all from a foundation more firmly grounded in presence and awareness.

Sangha comprises the third leg of the tripod. Sangha helps us create a stable support in our lives as we derive strength in our practice through sharing it with others. There is a notable, almost mysterious vibrancy that arises from meditating in a group setting. The collective energy of our concentration bolsters the individual and group simultaneously, allowing us to go deeper into our practice than if we only do it alone. Sangha practice also provides ample opportunities to practice generosity by contributing what we can to support the community of practitioners. We begin to break through the illusion of separation and realize that our practice isn’t only for ourselves, but for all beings. We also have an opportunity to view our habits, biases and aversions in the context of a group. The renowned Korean Zen teacher Seung Sahn likened sangha practice to cooking a pot of potatoes. He said that you could wash potatoes one by one or you could put numerous potatoes in a pot and stir them all together: they all rub up against each other, each getting clean in the process and rounding out the rough spots.

When our dharma practice is balanced it includes all three legs of this tripod. If we only focus on only one or two, we expend energy trying to maintain balance without a stable foundation. With our tripod in balance, however, we create the conditions for our practice to fully ripen and transform our lives, just as the Buddha taught.

This Precious Shining Moment

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By Michael Crowder

Today another piece of Dharma surfaced at a dentist’s office, of all places.  I went to a new dentist for an exam and cleaning.  Being new to his practice, I completed a detailed medical history, which included illnesses, procedures and prescribed medication.  After assessing my medical history the dentist sat with me to review and plan dental procedures for the future.  He led off the conversation by stating that I had officially taken over first place as the patient with the most complicated and demanding prior medical history in his current practice.

He was honest and forthright by stating that any complicated procedures could result in life threatening consequences.  He further stated that he would usually refrain from any extended procedures on patients with my history; there was a high probability that they would not live long enough to benefit in any substantial way from the costly and painful procedures.  He felt it was unethical to reap the financial rewards by performing these procedures on a patient that would surely die in a relatively short period of time.

His honesty was refreshing and I felt comforted by his ethical standards.  I am fully aware of the precarious condition of my health and I was pleased that he did not dance around the issues or take advantage of my situation.  He went on to say that my health placed me in an unusual position of having a life span that could stretch to ten weeks, ten months or ten years or more.  He stated that most patients like me would generally appear to be lethargic, morose, and slightly depressed.  He went on to say that he detected within me a strong spark of life that could help sustain me for an indefinite period of time, so he found it difficult to predicate treatment upon this unknown.

At this point I felt like telling him that what he perceived as a spark of life was the undeniable benefits of my Buddhist practice.  That the teachings of the Buddha do not give way to remorse over past events or succumb to the pressures of an unknown future.  It is the practice of staying in the moment that allows me to benefit from a life that does not stay entangled in bad decisions and their unwholesome results, or worry myself into a ball of hopeless depression over events that have not made themselves manifest, and for all I know may never.  It is this experience of the present moment as something free of stress and worry that gives my practice what he refers to as “a spark of life.” In reality, it is simply seeing my life as it is without the stories I could easily build into problems. Once again the Buddha has shown me that this “precious shining moment” is all there is and is all there ever will be. What an extraordinary gift this is.

“The Single Most Precious Moment” – Majjhima Nikāya 131-4

One night, under the light of a bright full moon, the Buddha gave utterance to this poem, which he encouraged his followers to remember and to frequently ponder:

Do not chase after what is gone,

Nor yearn for what is yet to be.

For the past has been left behind,

And the future cannot be reached.

 

Those states that are before you now

–Have insight into every one!

Invincibly, unshakably,

Know that well, again and again.

 

Do this work today, with ardor.

Who knows when death will come calling?

There is no bargaining with Death,

Or with his army of minions.

 

Abiding ardently like this

Without fail, both day and night, is

“The single most precious moment”

 

So the peaceful sage has told us.

Michael Crowder found the dharma nearly 7 years ago, shortly after having a stroke. Since then he has maintained a committed daily meditation practice and sits with One Dharma.

 

To Make Sense of The Suffering?

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The unfolding immigration tragedy that has left children separated from their parents, detained in prison-like cages, has provoked one of the strongest outpourings I’ve seen of grief, despair, anger and confusion, along with fierce protests and calls to our politicians to end the practice immediately. Through these efforts we’ve seen some movement on this issue but know there’s much more to be done. Even in the midst of this energetic effort, I’m reminded that we also need to remember that there is no “other” out there, or anywhere, to hate. Otherwise, weariness and despair can easily overtake us. We can protest, speak out, call our politicians; we can also remember our interconnected nature at the deepest place in our hearts. We are capable of both. Recently  I was moved by a quote from Phillip Moffitt and want to share it here:

“The Buddha said, “Hate never yet dispelled hate. Only love dispels hate.” By holding the truth of our interdependency and refusing to participate in this endless cycle of hatred, you can help to heal the wound of the world. Jesus said, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. But if you love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back, then your reward will be great.’

No one can accuse Jesus or Buddha of being cowards in the face of injustice; therefore, their teachings are about how to hold the difficult in the heart. You have to decide if you share their beliefs, and if so, you practice living in this manner as a reflection of your deepest values. It is a proactive, courageous way to live. This does not mean responding passively when you encounter wrong action, for you should always act to stop those who harm others.”

This reflection on interdependency reminds me of an article I wrote a few years ago after I watched a movie about a woman who was stoned to death in Iran. As the movie ended, I was overwhelmed and struggled to get to sleep that night. During the next morning’s meditation, however, I gradually remembered that the mental creation of good and bad, enemies and friends just brought about separation that prevented my heart from bearing the pain of this act. In remembering the truth of interconnection, I found that I could open my heart to the stunning pain I felt at the stoned woman’s plight and to feel compassion for the great suffering of her entire community, even the perpetrators. To experience interdependency at this level in no way precludes wise action to stop suffering. While there was little I could do personally to stop the practice of stoning in Iran, there is much I can do in this country to help turn the tide away from cruelty. I can’t know if my efforts will succeed, but I know they are worth doing.

The One Who Casts the Stone and The One Who is Hit

by Lisa Ernst

Recently the impending stoning death of an Iranian woman made worldwide headlines and sparked international outrage. The pressure on the Iranian government to change her sentence has been immense. For most of us, it is incomprehensible that death by stoning is still a form of capital punishment in some parts of the world.

I was especially moved by the cause of this woman because I had recently watched a movie about the stoning death of another Iranian woman, “The Stoning of Soyora M.” The movie is based on a book of the same name, the true story of a woman falsely accused of adultery and stoned to death in her home town in the 1980s. This movie depicted the woman’s stoning in a very accurate, unflinching way and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever watched on film. She was dressed in white and marched through the streets of her home town while men lined the way, rhythmically clapping stones together as a prelude to the execution. When she reached the stoning ground, her arms were bound to her sides and she was buried to her waist. A perimeter line was drawn, perhaps 20 feet away, behind which everyone in the town stood to stone her or to watch. A barrel of stones had been collected so the townsmen could all have their turn.

For a stoning execution, the stones are chosen for their size – not too large to kill the person immediately, but not too small as to do little harm. In Soroya’s case, I had hoped that her suffering would be brief, but stonings are deliberately stretched out over a period of time to create a gruesomely painful form of torture. The woman’s dignity was completely stripped away as her husband, her sons, and the men in her community threw stone after stone at her head, as she cried out in pain and disbelief, fell over to the ground, yet continually lifted herself back up with whatever strength she could muster. Slowly her white dress became completely stained with red. Finally, after perhaps an hour she was dead.

As the movie ended, I sat stunned and speechless, as tears spilled down my cheeks. It was just before bed and I wondered if I’d be able to sleep after witnessing such heinous torture. Somehow, I was able to fall into a restless sleep. The next morning I got up to meditate, having briefly forgotten what I had seen the night before. As I settled into meditation, the stillness of the morning and the sweet birdsong brought my heart fully awake. Then, in this place of stillness and open heartedness, the stoning images of the night before returned. There was great sadness in my heart, yet I didn’t close down or turn away. What I’ve learned through my practice is that when my  heart fully awake, it has the capacity to accommodate not only great love but great suffering. This is the “door of compassion” that Thich Nhat Hahn beautifully speaks of in this poem:

“Please Call Me by My True Names”
I am the 12 year old girl, refugee on a boat, who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate. And I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving.

I am member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my hands, and I am the man who has to pay his “debt of blood” to my people, dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life.

My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills up the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names, so I can hear all my cries and
my laughs at once, so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names so I can wake up,and so the door of my heart can open the door of compassion.
– Thich Nhat Hahn

Buddha taught that there is no inherent self separate from others; no self separate from all phenomena. This is called  emptiness. Through committed meditation practice, we gradually increase our capacity to experience emptiness.  We begin to understand at an experiential level that all of existence is none other than our own true nature. This insight is the basis for recognizing that all beings are Buddha, the awakened one. But what is often not stated, yet cannot be otherwise, is that we also are the pirate who rapes the 12 year old girl, and the man who stones his wife. If we selectively associate our understanding of non-separation with the highest of good, choosing to see only what we like and admire, we risk closing off our hearts to the often unspeakable suffering of our own humanity. Unconditional compassion and love can only arise when the heart is open to the full spectrum of experience, from great kindness to profound cruelty. This is true non-separation. Admittedly however, this kind of open- heartedness is not always easy;  there are times when we may see or experience suffering that is beyond our heart’s capacity to bear.  During these moments, some compassion for our own inevitable limits can soften the edges of our pain. At other times we may find the way to truly open our hearts and no longer look away:

You can hold back from
suffering of the world,
you have permission to do so,
and it is in accordance
with your nature,
but perhaps this very holding back
is the one suffering
you could have avoided
Franz Kafka

With a compassionate heart, we may weep at the inconceivable cruelty of this world and feel joyous when witnessing a deed of true kindness.  During the quiet of the morning when my heart touched the great suffering inherent in the act of stoning, for a few moments I could see without flinching the depths of  unkindness that is part of human nature. The same heart that fills with joy upon hearing a symphony of birds greeting the morning sun, also breaks for the woman who died the most unimaginable death at the hands of her own husband and community. They are all none other than me.

The Flame of Mindfulness

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Many people are initially drawn to meditation in hopes of finding a more peaceful, less stressful life. Science has proven that consistent meditation practice can reduce stress over time, but there’s a lot more to the practice than cultivating a relaxed mental state. Skillful mindfulness meditation brings us into intimate contact with the thoughts and habitual patterns of craving that are usually hidden from our everyday awareness, the very thoughts at the root of our suffering. This practice opens the door to a gradual release from the patterns that bind us; it is nothing short of the path to liberation.

Through meditation and awareness practices, most of us uncover habitual reactive thoughts of one kind or another, old conditioned patterns that are usually set into motion by specific events.  Something may go wrong on the job, a loved one makes a critical comment, or a sensitive email or phone call isn’t returned.  If one of these events hit a trigger point, we may find ourselves  drowning in a flood of thoughts about our inadequacy, our failure to live up to some kind of standard we have set for ourselves, or what we believe the world “out there” expects from us. Without mindfulness, these self-referencing thoughts can begin to grow and strengthen until we fall into a state of intense anxiety or even depression.

This knotted, painful response occurs when we believe our self-critical thoughts are real. Unexamined, they can become an uncontested life narrative, something barely perceived because the thoughts are so ingrained and habitual, as regular and unnoticed as a steadily beating heart or the oxygen we breathe. Analyzing the conditioned roots of these patterns may help us understand them better, but that alone rarely frees us from their grip.  One of the most effective antidotes is mindful awareness practices, strengthened and honed through daily meditation, which begins to act as flame to paper, at times strong enough to burn away these habitual narratives on contact.

For over a decade in my teens and 20′s I was in a chronic state of clinical depression. Some people, including myself , are prone to depression, and it can become a hole so deep that finding a way out seems impossible. During this time I lived in a well of unrelenting depression, drowning in the murky waters of unexamined grief and loneliness, never able to see them mindfully. Finally after of years of living in depression as a way of life, a crisis brought me to a point of desperation and I began committed meditation practice.

Initially during my meditation I experienced a flood of sadness and grief, staying present in the midst of strong emotion that I had tried to ignore for years. This was a great relief to me as it finally liberated me from my attempts to repress or escape the pain.

Gradually, through this process of mindful, compassionate awareness, my grief was released and my chronic depression lifted.  But awareness of my habitual self criticism wasn’t yet strong;  all too often  a flood of negative thoughts were unleashed with seemingly minimal cause and I’d be tangled for days in a knot of self denigration. Trapped in the illusion that my thoughts were real, I’d find myself teetering at the brink of that old, familiar depression.

As my practice grew stronger, I could often see self-critical thoughts at their very arising, before they threw me into anxiety or emotional upset. At other times I might get sucked in for a while before  waking up.  But at any point along the way, my willingness to make mindful, compassionate contact with the tangle of thought/emotion grew into the very flame that burned the suffering away. This is the mind of awareness and insight that we all share, the mind that sees thoughts for what they are – transient, and eternally passing away.

Lisa Ernst