Silence

That's what these last nine days have been about, and it was beautiful.

This was nothing like a group retreat, where there is always talking of some kind, where there are always sounds of people moving about, and where there are always people around, period. I had none of that. I had total silence, total stillness -- and that total outer silence and outer stillness led to total inner silence and inner stillness that was a thing of beauty to experience. The only sounds -- outside of the background sounds of the refrigerator or dehumidifier humming, or a fan spinning, or cars and neighbors -- came from the soothing voice and exquisite wisdom of Bhante Gunaratana, three times each and every day.

I made a last-minute decision to use his jhana CD, which I've had for a couple of years, instead of online retreat talks from Sister Susila, and that was a good decision indeed. Essentially, while the discussion and training was for jhana, it was a metta (loving friendliness, or loving kindness) retreat, as he teaches a method of attaining jhana through metta. This -- the metta -- was what influenced me the most. Jhana became secondary. One entire guided meditation was centered on relaxing the body and mind -- so peaceful that after the 30 minutes were over I continued to sit and continue relaxing both body and mind for the rest of the two hours.

All that metta, and all that inner silence eventually pointed to a place inside me where a great big knot of resentment lived. And friends, that resentment was all aimed at myself! Once I saw it, I also clearly saw the source: 70 years accumulation of blame, guilt, remorse, regret for everything I've ever done or said -- and there have been thousands of them -- that I later regretted in one way or another. Once again, I clearly saw the suffering this has caused me over a lifetime. 

The antidote is metta -- to myself and to others, along with compassion for myself and others. If we hold others in metta and compassion, we cannot say or do things we will regret.

And, as Bhante G said in one of his dhamma talks, the way we treat ourselves is most likely the way we will treat others. I've felt a lot of resentment towards other people from time to time. In fact, it's been really easy for some otherwise innocent person to pull that resentment out of me. Now that I'm aware of it, I can stop that. I managed to let go of a lot of that resident self-resentment and replace it with resident self-love and compassion. It will be an ongoing effort to rid myself of all of it.

This was an extraordinary experience for me, and I plan to do one of these each month (although without an electronic teacher, to keep the temptations of the internet away). Clearly, I would make a good hermit! That cave in the Himalayas is sounding better all the time. Too bad it's too cold and too far away. The 'cave' I'm in works just fine.

I realize this is something that many people could not do -- jobs, family and such do not offer the time and silent place for such things in the home. But if you ever have the chance to do it at home or in a remote cabin or even a tent -- do it! You won't be sorry.

Solitude

It's ironic that I find so much discontent with my life of relative solitude as it exists, yet seek solitude in a monastic environment somewhere.

There's an old saying of some kind about how often we humans look and look and look all around, far and wide, sometimes for years -- then discover that what we were looking for, what we wanted, was with us all the time.  I've been hearing and gathering little bits of data on that subject in the back of my mind for some time now, and I'm beginning to listen.

Some of the frustration I've found with the various monasteries I've visited has to do with solitude -- or lack thereof. I want a place where I can spend long hours meditating, but none of the monasteries really offers that, although I suppose I could arrange my own schedule in Austin to fit that need. Most, if they have any meditation schedule, offer a morning and evening meditation that are mandatory, but they're short -- generally no longer than an hour. And they include chanting, which I don't care for.

I'm looking for silence, for a peaceful place to just meditate for longer stretches, without having other scheduled activities or responsibilities to think about. In short, I want a retreat environment. In a perfect world there'd be some senior monastic around to offer advice and answer questions that might arise. But I haven't found a way to get both.

Those little thoughts in the back of my mind have been telling me that I have the perfect place right here, if I am willing to use it as such, and if I can find the discipline to do so. With that in mind I've set up an experiment that I hope to begin on Monday: 10 or so days 'on retreat' here in my home. No computer. No radio. I have taken the basic retreat schedule used at Bhavana and will follow that, breaking the 'no computer' rule each day long enough to listen to one of Sayalay Susila's dhamma talks from her 8-day retreat last December. No email, however!

Once I decided that, I needed to literally get my house in order. Neatness and cleanliness are the rule in any monastic environment, and necessary for the attainment of peace. I also had to get in a good supply of food, things that are easy to prepare for myself each day. Aside from general cleaning and neatening, the most necessary and wonderful thing I did was reinstate the beautiful meditation room I spent months re-doing, and which I abandoned over the winter due to cost of heat and then gave in to using it for staging Goodwill donations, storing empty boxes, and even curing garlic from the garden. It was a mess. Now, it's a meditation room again, as beautiful, calming and peaceful as ever. And as always, merely walking into or through the room brings instant calm and peace to me. I closed the reed blinds for the sake of photography, but they are generally open to the peaceful greenery outside.

 Solitude is happiness for one who is content, who has

heard the Dhamma and clearly sees.

There are a few more details to take care of: returning library books, some last-minute shopping and laundry, general straightening of the desk that won't be used, and hoping the rain stops long enough for my neighbor to cut my grass tomorrow so I won't be disturbed during my 'retreat'. I'll have meal, work and rest periods just as at Bhavana -- the rest is meditation.

Will I have the determination and discipline to make this work? I'll let you know.

Craving, desire and greed

Greed, craving and desire are at the heart of the Buddha's teaching in the Four Noble Truths: the first is the truth of suffering, the dissatisfaction or unhappiness we inevitably feel in our lives. The second truth is the origin of suffering, which is our own undisciplined grasping mind. Third is cessation, the truth that by eliminating desire and craving it is possible to end our suffering. Fourth is the noble eightfold path, which is the way to end suffering.

That greed, or desire, is also an insidious thing in Buddhist practice -- at least in my experience. On the other hand, if it were easy to spot and end we wouldn't suffer in the first place.

We think we know what greed is, and on the most basic level, we do. Recognizing the many ways greed inserts itself into our thoughts and actions, however, is a great deal more difficult. Years ago when I first began my walk down this path I thought I had a pretty good handle on greed and felt that I was basically greed-free. It's humbling to see and admit just how wrong I was and continue to be on this subject!

With that in mind I want to relate an experience I had a couple of years ago (January 31, 2011 to be exact).

I don't know how other people's minds work with regard to insights, but with me, big insights rarely happen all at once. Instead, over a period of time (months or years, even) I get a series of hunches, feelings, minor insights that float around unconnected in the back of my mind until something pulls all these scraps together into a cohesive whole. Much of the time, these bits of data center around things that aren't particularly flattering to me, meaning I really don't want to sit and look at them. Eventually, I'm driven to do so. That's what happened with this experience.

I'd had insights and hunches and feelings over a period of years (from even before I began meditating) regarding one particular subject, didn't know how to connect them but knew they were connected and important. I sat on my cushion with the intent of solving this mystery.  I asked, "What am I supposed to learn from this? What does it mean? What am I supposed to be seeing that I'm not seeing?". After only a few moments, something spectacular happened that totally changed my life.

It was the proverbial 'light bulb' moment, complete with bright light and an accompanying strong sensation that totally filled my mind and body. My entire life flashed across my mind's eye in moments, showing how I'd craved more and more and more -- more than what I had or could ever expect to have sometimes -- since I was a small child and right up to that current moment when I was obsessing over finding a way to redo my kitchen even though I couldn't realistically afford to do so. More importantly, I clearly saw how this ongoing, deep craving for more had brought a lifetime of suffering along with it. 

This realization was so strong that at that very moment I said, no more. No more of this craving and no more of the suffering that goes with it. It stops now. This giving up or letting go of craving seemed to trigger an even greater response -- deepened and multiplied the existing light and sensations and thrust me into an overwhelming experience that was almost other-worldly. I sat wrapped up in the wonder of it all for awhile, observing what was happening, the feelings (physical and mental) and so much more. Eventually, it faded and eventually I got off the cushion and went about life -- but with a permanently changed mindset. Bells, whistles and dramatics aside, it was a momentous experience with huge consequences to my practice and progress along the path.

Old habit patterns surfaced in my mind for a few days, but they were quickly recognized and immediately refuted, then simply disappeared. For a long time I hesitated anytime I had a thought to buy something. Is this necessary? Is it something I want or something I need? No rationalizations about 'need' allowed, either. Soon, it simply became a new MO for me. I've learned to make do with less, use what I have, and be content with all of it. In fact, I've reached a point where I don't want 90% of the 'stuff' I own and would happily be rid of it if I could find a way to live that didn't require furniture and other 'necessities' of life. A cave in the Himalayas has great appeal.

Many other changes followed this experience, but the main event was recognizing a greed that was such a huge part of my life that I could not see it as greed. It had simply always been there.

I've seen other, smaller sources and types of greed since this experience, but basically I felt that I was 'through' with greed and suffering (although I admit to a craving for chocolate and other sweets that sometimes gets the better of me). How wrong I was!

For awhile now I've been once more gathering scraps of data, flashes, small insights, whatever you want to call them in the back of my mind. I'm seeing other ways that 'wanting more' manifests it's ugly head in insidious ways (and again, has done so for my entire life). I wrote about dissatisfaction awhile back in Just say 'yes". I expect this will all come to a head one of these days when they coalesce enough to drive me to the cushion to examine them.

So far, I've successfully avoided that, but I know from experience that eventually the need will become strong enough that it can't be avoided.  When it does, I'll let you know.

Cosmic explosions of the mind

Springtime at Southern Dharma, a few days ago

This is one of those times where I literally don't know where to begin. There is so much I want to say, but where to begin? It doesn't help that my mind is still reeling a bit from having attended two intense retreats with a week-long break between the two. In all honesty, I can't say that I had fully assimilated the first one before it was time to turn around and drive back to Southern Dharma. And I certainly haven't assimilated either at this point -- only a  couple of days after leaving Southern Dharma the second time. When the mind is so fully affected, it feels as if it's almost had a little cosmic explosion and the pieces are settling down again in a different pattern. I'm sure a neurologist could explain it, but that little description is the best I can do.

I can, however, say one thing with full certainty: I am even more fully drawn to living in a monastic setting where I can meditate and learn. The only question now is, which one?  And that answer will need to wait for a couple of months, until I've visited the two remaining locations, and explored options at each.

Ayya Sobhana on the land at Aranya Bodhi

I also know with the deepest part of my heart that I am truly blessed to know these two extraordinary women, to have them as teachers and even as friends.  The two couldn't be more different -- Ayya Sobhana is as American as the proverbial apple pie, outgoing and no-nonsense but kind and patient and certainly well-trained by Bhante Gunaratana at the Bhavana Society. She is filled with wisdom, an excellent teacher with a wonderful sense of humor. Sayalay Susila, on the other hand, is Asian through-and-through. More reserved, quieter, very much an inner person whose years of deep meditation in a Burmese forest monastery under the training of Pa Auk Sayadaw are reflected in her wisdom, her demeanor and bearing. Her knowledge of the Abhidhamma and higher absorptions seems limitless. She is a truly gifted teacher.

Sayalay Susila at Bhavana, August 2011

Between these two retreats and teachers, many of the questions I've posed in previous posts here have been answered. That's no doubt why my mind feels slightly discombobulated. It really has been tossed around and reassembled.

When I mentioned my realization of dissatisfaction and that I had begun accepting and being content with whatever happens (saying 'yes') to Sister Susila, she said that was falling away of ego -- something very much to be desired in Buddhism. It certainly continues to feel good. Much of the time we spent together was spent in catching up, more than discussing the current retreat, which was fine. I really didn't have any questions -- I just needed the time and perhaps her presence to let the mind settle down and attain concentration, which it did. I just wanted to talk to her, ask questions unrelated to the retreat. There was not enough time, of course, but hours and days would not have been enough time. I am overjoyed with the amount of time I did have, and overjoyed that I am able to continue to work with her, help her with transcriptions and editing, and am able to ask her a question anytime there is something I feel is important enough to bother her. She will always answer, although I rarely ask.

From a practice standpoint, I gained deeply from both retreats. However, there were more 'breakthroughs' at the one taught by Ayya Sobhana, the subject of which was handling emotions the Buddha's way. Through her teaching I finally, finally found that spot deep inside where the lack of love and caring for myself dwelt, and the door opened, the answer revealed with a big rush of love and acceptance.  On another evening in deep concentration of an unusual sort my entire body 'disappeared'. I've had several occasions over the past 2 or more years where the inside of the body changed into something entirely different. The first time it was masses of tiny bubbles, moving around and popping. The next two times were last fall at Goenka, with different manifestations. In all three of these cases, I still 'saw' the shape of the body, the form, the skin. Only the inside disappeared. On this recent occasion, however, it all disappeared. Kind of faded away bit by random bit until nothing was left. This sounds strange if you  haven't experienced it, but as Sister Susila has said, the concentrated mind does some very strange things and these experiences are not unusual for those who practice concentration. She wanted to know exactly what I was practicing when that happened, because it was truly relevant.

The third big event to happen at Ayya Sobhana's retreat was the arising of compassion. All at once, in a huge rush, at the moment she told us about the bombing in Boston. I recognized it in the moment for what it was, knowing fully that it was more profound than mere reaction to the news. It has lasted, and grown, and is clearly a double-edged sword. When I saw others at the last retreat through the eyes of compassion, at times I could feel their suffering, and feel it deeply. That really changed how I regarded these people, and made me wonder if I could even handle feeling that much suffering, if I even wanted to feel the suffering of others so deeply. I don't think I have much choice in that matter, so it simply has to be accepted.

Two different teachers. Two different retreat subjects. Mind-boggling results for me in both cases.

Just say 'Yes'

I had an interesting -- and not generally pleasant -- year last year, from a Dhamma practice standpoint. I think these downturns are normal enough and even to be expected, especially when we run up against something we don't want to see.  I ran into that 'something' during the year-end retreat at Bhavana in December of 2011, and lived in a bit of turmoil until just recently. Things are beginning to come together again now, thankfully.

It's so hard to pinpoint exactly when something happens that sends the mind off in some irrevocable direction, but I think last year it happened to me at Aranya Bodhi when another lay resident came in a couple of days after my arrival. Her name was Geri, and she made a real impression on me. She'd quit her job, left her life, at the beginning of the year after some spiritual experience the previous summer. She had 'gone forth' much as monastics do, but without actually becoming a monastic. She was following her own path aimed at helping short-term at various meditation centers or monastic sites. (Sound familiar?) Last I heard, she was traveling with a Buddhist nun to perhaps Nepal. Not surprisingly, her influence was strong when I began thinking of also 'going forth' in my own manner. But what I think made the biggest difference in me was that she said she wanted to spend a year or two or however long just saying yes to everything. Yes to helping however she could. Yes to everything she encountered along the way. Even then, I wondered how that would feel, and her words were never far from my thoughts then or over the ensuing months.

Fast forward a few months and after thinking about Geri's words and much more, I began to realize just how often I said no in my life. How dissatisfied I was with everything I encountered along my way. I don't think I've always been that way -- or, at least not as completely so -- but I've certainly done my share of whining and complaining about things I didn't like in life, from time to time. During the past year or so that's been particularly the case, I found, and particularly (though far from exclusively) at meditation retreats. I didn't like the room, or the roommate. It was too hot, or too cold. Too many stairs to climb. I didn't like the bathroom arrangements. Or the food. Or whatever. And I didn't like much around here either, for that matter.

So, I sat with that realization for awhile, ugly as it was and as much as I didn't like facing the truth, then decided that I, like Geri, would start saying yes to everything. Every tiny little thing that came up in daily life. At first, old habit patterns continued to arise, but I was on the lookout for them and quickly turned dissatisfaction (no) to satisfaction (yes). Soon, the new patterns were firmly in place and now it's become automatic. And I can't tell you how much happier I am in general as a result.

The real test came last week, with the driving, the retreat center, the retreat itself. All of these are things that in the past would have bristled with opportunities for dissatisfaction, but with the new change in attitude, those same opportunities consciously became opportunities for satisfaction. I saw it daily, multiple times daily, and was always glad to see the yes reaction come up, each and every time. It was a form of acceptance for whatever was happening in that moment.

I'm not a Buddhist scholar, certainly, but it seems to me that dissatisfaction is a subtle form of greed -- wanting something to be different from what it is. Every time I think I've conquered greed, I find a new and different nuance, such as this dissatisfaction. I'm pretty sure this particular one is cured -- I like saying yes, and it makes the lives of people I encounter much better, too.

I have a feeling that this new acceptance has blossomed in 'woo-woo' (karmic) spiritual ways, too. When I returned, I found that doors have opened -- in Austin for May, at Bhavana for June, and at of course always (and with much gratitude) at Aranya Bodhi anytime I wish to join them. For now, that's enough. I'll go through the first two doors, then see what happens next. The pull to Aranya Bodhi is stronger than ever, but....only time will tell. As Ayya Sobhana so wisely counseled, I need to decide where I can best learn and grow in the Dhamma, and that may not necessarily be the fanciest, or the one with the most famous teacher. But that's all for the future. For now, I'm getting ready to return to Southern Dharma in a couple of days for a retreat with Sayalay Susila.  And very much looking forward to seeing her again.