Funeral

Yesterday I was at a funeral. I wasn’t close to the person, we’d met briefly on a handful of occasions but I decided to go anyway because of the connection with his family. He had been a Catholic so the service was a Requiem Mass in a modern church with high ceilings and naturalistic figures of various saints in the stained glass windows.

I was brought up Catholic and my relationship with Catholicism has changed in the 32 years I’ve been a practising Buddhist. It has softened and mellowed from the outrage of my teenage years when it seemed God and my Dad were of one authoritarian mind! There is now more interest in seeing connection than the rejection that came from working out what a Buddhist was and how it was different to what I’d grown up with.

One thing I’d reacted against quite strongly was that the church service was always the same. Every week going to hear the same words, verses, standing up in places, kneeling in others! Occasionally getting to sit down (and sneak a look at whatever book I’d brought along with me to while away the 45 minutes of boredom).

Buddhist ritual hasn’t changed much either in the 32 years I’ve been doing it. What has changed is the mind participating in it. There are qualities of sensitivity, openness and being present, moment by moment in the aware mind. Not looking to the ‘object’ of experience for satisfaction so much but paying attention to the quality of the mind that is aware.

There is also an appreciation now that one of the strengths of ritual is repetition, of knowing phrases really well and having an understanding of their significance that grows over years of evoking certain moods.

I recognised a lot of the verses yesterday. Some I could go along with (confession, peace, community) and some I couldn’t (sin, heaven, angels – there was a lot about angels!). I knew all the hymns and felt moments of real joy in singing them despite the pitch that is always too high in churches for anyone over the age of 15 unless they are trained opera singers!

Despite not ‘agreeing’ with the words there is something about tunes, harmonies, rituals and gestures familiar from many years of observing and participating as a child. They are part of my history and my ‘identity’. I don’t mean identity as a fixed, static thing that defines ‘me’ but something lighter and ‘truer’.

As I listened and sat and stood and sang yesterday there was a background awareness of my mind. I noticed thoughts and feelings and various snippets of memory. There was a thought about whether or not I still identified with my catholic roots and a sort of pause in the mind wondering if that was a good thing or not.

These ‘mind moments’ had the flavour of familiarity, they were parts of the story of me – but without ‘me’. Without identifying with them they were free floating fragments of memories, perceptions and feelings that re-vitalised in that moment sparked off through being in the Church and hearing the Mass.

We all have a story (many stories) and as practitioners we’re taught not to buy into it. To let go of the story and be with the direct experience. What I was aware of in these moments was both the fabric of the story that has been lived through and is remembered to some degree and also the fragmentary and conditioned nature of those moments in the present. Identity without identification.autumn-940401_640

I couldn’t identify or not identify as an ex-catholic. There was an individualised ‘stream of experience being known by the mind and ‘identification’ was part of that. Identification itself was not ‘real’ or ‘true’ but another mind moment being known in awareness.

In itself – just another moment of practice. Noticed because of the habit of watching the mind. And not inappropriate while witnessing the ultimate in non-identification, the death and dissolution of the body.

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Intimacy with all things?

A few years ago I was in Spain in spring time during the almond blossom period. Being driven through miles of dry interior, clouds of pink frothy beauty were everywhere. I was quietly ecstatic. A thought came ‘this is just pleasant experience’. My heart closed, just a little, but there was a diminishing of the joyful state. At the time I felt slightly regretful that seeing experience clearly made mindfulness feel a bit of a spoilsport.

Sometimes the language of awareness and wisdom, of ‘process’ rather than ‘content’ and particularly of ‘observing’ experience, can be a bit of a turn off. There can be resistance to just ‘knowing’ or ‘seeing’. It can feel overly detached. We want to know ‘where is the juiciness of life?’ An attitude of reverence for life or intimacy with experience is replaced with something cooler and less appealing.

What would you chose? Intimacy with life or Detachment from the objects of experience?

It is at least partly an issue of language. And the language has developed from different strands of Buddhist history. The Buddha’s early teachings are full of negation. Enlightenment is described through what it is not. It’s pared down and scraped back and then you see what’s left. Terms like ‘the void’ or ‘the unborn’ abound. And this makes sense when you’re trying to avoid using concepts that suggest spiritual realisation is a ‘thing’ existing somewhere, something to get hold of. It’s easier and more accurate to say what its not.

Later Buddhist teachings go to the other extreme with huge flowery language, an impossible abundance of mythic and imaginative suggestiveness. Interconnectedness of all things seems to augment rather than strip away. We are left with everything rather than nothing.

Where do these different teachings and approaches from the same spiritual tradition meet?

I hesitate to endorse ‘intimacy with experience’ when I’m wanting to encourage a clear observation of what is happening in mind and body. And yet, I recognise in the experience of that observation, whether of a sight or sound, emotion or thought, it often has the flavour of presence, delicacy, richness and curiosity. In short – intimacy.

My reticence is for a couple of different reasons.

Firstly, I think the language of intimacy can encourage a collapsing into the object of experience, an absorption into it, and this, I’m trying to avoid. Absorption into the experience belongs to a different type of meditation practice with a single focus, for example, the breath.

But even in broad awareness, done as an insight practice there are pitfalls.

Early Buddhism is concerned with seeing experience clearly and with detachment or non-attachment. These are ‘cool’ words that can be a bit off-putting. But it’s not detachment from experience that is meant but detachment from defiled mind states (klesha/kilesa). We’re looking to view our experience without the klesha of attachment influencing the observation. If we have even a little desire to be intimate with experience because it feels good, because it’s pleasurable, that is the klesha of craving in operation.

Pleasure, liking and desire all feel good – at least initially and if we’re not keeping a close eye out.

We need this idea or feeling of intimacy to be examined with the same quality of awareness as we would anything else. It can’t be exempt or we end up with being identified with the pleasant qualities it holds. We need intimacy without identification. Wisdom can’t flower in the mind that is attached and identified.

It’s only recently that I’ve understood my moments with the almond blossom more clearly. What I thought was a ‘seeing through’ was in fact a thought about seeing through. It didn’t have a lot of power when up against strong pleasure hence the desire for the pleasure to continue.

But there have been other experiences over time where seeing pleasure for what it is – a momentary arising in the mind – has been more satisfying than the initial pleasurable thing. In those moments there has been some wisdom in the mind that is able to appreciate reality rather than be disappointed by it!

Whatever Lobha wants, Lobha gets…

 

Lobha has been an on-going interest in practice of late and that continued through the month I’ve been away on retreat and travelling between retreats (in Finland and Switzerland, lucky me!)

‘Lobha’ is much more than greed and desire: it’s that sense of wanting, enjoying, relishing the experiences I have that are pleasurable, leaning into them however subtly, so they persist and continue into the next moment. The flip side is ‘dosa’ – aversion, the ‘not wanting’ which is still wanting something to be other than it is.

So, I’ve been getting more intimate lobha as it operates in the mind. Getting to know it from its own side.How it thinks and feels, what motivates it, even coming up with a kind of job description for it. Its ‘job’ is to strengthen desire and wanting in the mind especially by getting me to act on my desires. So it embellishes the attractive features of an object (sweet, tasty, highly pleasurable cake with my coffee) and downplays it’s unattractive aspects (will rot my teeth, contribute to weight gain, encourage greed). It feels sticky and excited by itself – Ms Feelgood.

It gets me to do all sorts of things (especially on the cakes, chocolate and other sweet things front) I later regret! Lobha is biased towards the pleasurable, that’s what she’s seeking out. From desires point of view the best life is one pleasurable experience after another.

When Awareness is present and there is interest in the mind it’s possible to see lobha more objectively. There is no need to be particularly firm with myself (suppression) or to let my desires run wild (indulgence) but to see what can be noticed about the nature of desire. Seeing desire from the perspective of Awareness is fascinating. You’re seeing it from the ‘outside’ rather than being completely involved with wanting or not wanting it.

A couple of examples.

I was meditating recently with a group of people. I had my eyes open as I usually do and I noticed a flicker of irritation and ‘not liking’ as my vision caught someone who I’d had a small disagreement with the previous day. The person next to her was someone I’m fond of and there was a sense of ‘liking’. I went back and forth between the two people – liking and not liking, not liking and liking. There was an understanding in the mind that this process of liking and dis-liking is going on all the time in relation to different things and how impersonal it all is. It’s simply liking and dis-liking in the mind, happening all the time in a mind relating to objects of experience. There was no need to take it so seriously. It needn’t go any further than that – into fully fledged desire or ill-will – and in those moments it didn’t.

Secondly, as part of my travels between retreats I crossed through the Swedish and Finnish Archipelago on a 9 story ferry. It takes 11 hours and on the return journey to Stockholm I found a place to meditate in a large almost empty bar. I settled back, with my eyes resting on the sea outside of the window, to watch my mind. Sounds became the main objects I was aware of: laughter from a group on the far side of the room, clinking of glasses behind the bar and the bland piped music in the background.

And then there was a moment, sharp and sweet, when I realised the mind was ‘liking’. It was homing in on certain chords and harmonies in the largely unnoticed music and the emotional tone in one voice that the mind liked. Seeing this happening there was the choice to ‘go with’ the liking and let lobha grow or to just be aware. Actually, ‘knowing’ the awareness and the process was much more satisfying so it was quite natural to stay with that..

A useful question for me has been ‘is awareness in the driving seat or is it lobha?’ What’s motivating me in this moment? And the thing that I’m relishing might be quite neutral or ‘positive’ like watching the light on the high snow covered mountains in Switzerland. It doesn’t matter, it’s still ‘wanting’ energy in the mind and that means lobha is coming out to play and her next object might not be a skilful one.

Awareness can sound a bit of a killjoy here. What’s wrong with enjoying a mountain view? Or a fabulous lake-side sunset (we had quite a few in Finland!)? As Ayya Khema said, as long as we have senses, pleasure will arise through what we see or hear or taste etc. She continued ‘but don’t confuse sense pleasure with the value of joy that arises through practice’.P1050472

And what I noticed was as the mind became steadily more clear and content through the retreat the mountains were not less beautiful but there was less elation and more equanimity in the mind that was aware of them.

(thanks to Alessandra for the memorable rendition of ‘whatever lobha wants’ 2 years ago on retreat in Slovakia).

Talking Meditation

P1050527Some time ago friends of mine decided to take turns to read each other ‘War and Peace’ to help them build a continuity of awareness that carried through talking and listening. In the Satipatthana Sutta the Buddha implies we should be aware when we’re talking and when we’re silent. It is not easy to be aware while we’re talking and this is why retreats are often held largely in silence. Usually we’re not practising what Sayadaw U Tejaniya calls ‘talking meditation’.

I’m not suggesting that our speech is unethical or that we don’t take account of the speech precepts. But do we carry a continuity of awareness through from one moment to the next whilst we’re speaking or listening? There is a lot more we can be aware of: for instance are we aware of the physical sensations in the throat and face when we speak? Do we notice the sound vibrations of our own speech? Are we aware of tone and pitch – of ourselves and person we’re in a conversation with? Are we aware of our posture, leaning forward into the space between us or leaning back?

When talking about practising in daily life recently I asked the university students in drop-in Mindfulness class to sit opposite each other. One person in each pair had the task of just affirming every now and again what the other person was saying with an ‘OK’ or ‘Yes’. The other person was to repeat a single, simple sentence over and over. “Speak in a normal voice” I instructed. When I told them what the sentences were the noise levels soared and embarrassed laughter broke out. “You see” I made myself heard over them “it would be easy to do this exercise with a silly voice but the words are just a device. Just say them straight.”

For many of you this probably sounds very familiar and you might think you know where I’m going with this. In the early days of Triratna we regularly did ‘Communication Exercises’ designed to break through the barriers of reserve and habit with which we communicated with each other. The idea was to affirm what the other person was saying, to affirm them while they spoke the child-like phrases.

P1050539But actually I was getting at something else in this class. It was ‘talking meditation’. The words were deliberately simple and repetitive: “The sky is blue today”, “The birds are singing here”. “The full moon is rising”. (OK, I wasn’t sure they’d go for “the cow is in the field”!) I asked them to stick to one phrase only – though this was clearly too much for several of the pairs I could hear who swapped around a bit! I asked them to see if they could continue to be aware whilst saying or hearing the phrase.

I wanted to convey that talking and listening are just objects of experience to be aware of like any other. Starting with using simple language with little conceptual content it was easier to stay aware of physical and mental processes throughout. We can practice ‘talking meditation’ in this way.

After some 1,440 pages and over 500,000 words of War and Peace my friends found it had become a positive habit to be aware whenever they spoke or listened to someone speaking. You might find other ways that have a similar effect. Mindful singing? Mindful poetry reading? However we do it more awareness in this tricky area can only be a good thing!

Just let go (and go where no mind goes)

Those of you who have been on retreat with Tejananda will recognise the words above, maybe even have sung them with him at Vajraloka. During this time in Burma they have come to mind as I’ve meditated and reflected on awareness, on the mind and above all practising staying present to experience.

Whatever that experience might be – for me this morning it was swimming in the Bay of Bengal, off the western Myanmar coast, the sky a stunning blue and the sea a turquoise shimmer.The body weightless and the mind in bliss. Two hours later anxiety was creeping in as I walked up the beach looking for the village I’d set out for – had I gone too far up the coast? (almost certainly). Was I getting sun burnt/de-hydrated/knackered/bad-tempered?

Blissful, irritated, tired, hot and sweaty. We can be aware of all these things and many more. And the quality with which we are aware can transform the experience. Awareness doesn’t depend on a certain object to function. The balance, clear sightedness and impartiality of awareness allow pleasant or unpleasant experiences to be fully known. It is possible to be aware of anything that we can know through the physical senses and the same goes for the mind. Thoughts, feelings and other more subtle qualities in the mind can all be known.

Usually we’re either focused externally – and I could feel that pull on the beach this morning towards beauty and the pleasure of the senses – or caught up in an internal dialogue – as with the thoughts and feelings fuelling anxiety when I was lost and over-heating. Awareness allows both those processes to be known and, with practice, not identified with as ‘me’, ‘my thoughts’ etc. It does this through looking more internally at what is going on, through the wisdom aspect of Right Mindfulness – clearly knowing or comprehending and manifesting as a strong interest and a dharma perspective.

We get interested in what is actually happening and distinguish that from our ideas and concepts about experience. Have you ever asked yourself – how does a thought feel in the mind? what is awareness? how do I know I’m aware? Does it make a difference to understand anxiety or irritation or sadness as a feeling in the mind and body? Not asking these questions to answer them on a conceptual level but to let them point us to our direct experience in that moment. We need receptivity for awareness to reveal what its aware of, to just let things happen. And sometimes that letting go allows us to know the mind in a new way, going where it’s not gone before, to be completely present to the mysterious nature of awareness.

(guide our feet) in the natural way

This song by alternative folk band ‘Seize the Day’ comes to mind this morning. I’m thinking about meditation and what to write. How not much happened in practice yesterday and how more and more I’m OK with that. There is a new contentment with experience. The demand for it to be interesting or insightful has dropped. Sometimes it feels like the mind is drifting and getting a bit lost in mind scraps, mental flotsam and jetsam and I wonder if it’s just a slightly pleasant dreamy state. But the contentment is undeniable. There is ease and spaciousness in a mind that doesn’t need anything else to happen in the moment.

Ease and a naturalness have been long cultivated and hard won in a mind that is much more conditioned towards striving, towards strained effort and results. The tendency to ‘fiddle’ with my experience to adjust to something ‘better’ or closer to the idea of what I think should happen has been tamed with curiosity. ‘Curbing mind’ has been seen over and over coming in sharply and cutting short a renegade thought. It has gradually lost its brute force and urgency through being known in the aware mind.

I’m looking to see the mind in its natural state. The ‘fiddling’ or ‘curbing’ are part of that. I see how they create suffering in the mind causing the tightening in my shoulders and beginnings of a headache. Attempting to control thoughts, images and stories leads to dukkha creating tension. There’s no need to ‘let go’ of these things: seeing them in awareness, knowing them for what they are and having a certain amount of interest in the process is enough.

Like the naturalist studying nature (take David Attenborough for example!) I’m just looking to see what’s happening rather than interfere with how the anthill community or the mind function. Through simple observation of the mind in its natural state, going about its ‘work’ of thinking, perceiving, planning, intending, fantasising to name just a few of its functions a universe opens up.

It’s not the universe of ‘content’ but one of process. Like nature for the naturalist almost anything from the weirdest and ugliest bugs becomes interesting and a thing of beauty to be marvelled over. What does a thought feel like? How do I know I’m feeling? What is the difference between anger and sadness felt in the body? Not asking these questions for an answer but to allow interest in direct experience to grow.

glimpses into a meditator's mind

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