Obstacle as Path, Obstacle as Goal

I learned many years ago to look at difficulties -- difficult situations, difficult people -- that arose in my life and see what I could learn from the situation or the person. There's always something to be learned in every situation, from every person. I made some of my greatest strides along this Path during two years I spent at one particular job, for example. I was fairly new to Buddhism then, but I knew enough to ask myself what I could learn, what the best response was to some difficult people in a difficult situation that I'd been asked to 'help heal' when I was hired.

How to do that? I'm not a healer, in any respect. But I'd been asked to help heal the pre-existing rifts within the business and I turned to metta, or lovingkindness, along with a strong awareness and intention away from making the situation worse through anger or hostility on my own part.  A deep awareness that I'd already begun fostering made this easier, brought the Path front and center in my own consciousness on a daily basis. I had to think before acting. I had to control my own actions and reactions. Merely doing that, and consciously sending thoughts of metta to others, helped the healing process for others and taught me a lot in the process. I had occasion to practice much of the same at a more recent job with different obstacles. Metta always works, although at times it may be difficult to sincerely offer metta to particularly difficult people! That makes it all the more important to practice.

This kind of response to difficult situations and difficult people has become automatic for me, refined by continued learning and experience.  I bring all this up because I've been facing a number of personal difficulties lately -- difficult situations and difficult relationships -- and have found that I need to dig a little deeper, remind myself what's important and what will move me further along this Path I'm following. I find that while it's easy for me to respond in a wholesome manner to one situation at a time, it's far less easy to do it when faced with a multitude!

But doesn't that make it all the more important? I think it does. And I think this is where and how I need to turn now -- have already done so, will continue to do so. Ayya Tathaaloka wrote a wonderful message this past summer on Obstacle as Path, Obstacle as Goal that really affected me at the time, and which I read again yesterday. I encourage you to do the same, as she says it so much better than I.  Much of her writing is so far above my head that I can't begin to grasp the full depths of her words, and that's the case with this one, but even though I don't grasp all of it, I grasp the central message. And that's enough for now.

What are the obstacles in your Path? How do you view them? If you find yourself viewing them as obstacles, try turning that around and viewing them as opportunities. Let go of the fear and stress or anger or whatever emotion may be accompanying the perceived obstacle, look at the obstacle clearly and see if there's a solution hiding within the chaos. Depersonalize whatever is happening. Know that the situation -- whatever it is -- is not permanent. It will change. I find that the kind of change I want to see will happen much more quickly if I simply change my perception -- from Obstacle to Path. Clarity arises. Peace and patience become more prevalent.

These things work for me. I hope they work for you.

Contentment

For most of this past year I have been learning, re-learning, practicing and yes, struggling with, the process of Letting Go.  As stated in the linked blogpost, I've been letting go in smaller ways for years. This year was time to tackle letting go in big ways, because my current life path simply requires doing so. I don't think it's possible to effect a major change in one's life without letting go of the outcome, the fears, worries and doubts. At least it isn't for me, although that may merely be a factor of age and meager finances since it wasn't an issue in my younger years, when I'd up and move or change careers at the drop of a hat.

That's not to say I haven't found success, because I have let go of countless attachments and fears and such. But, I'm finding that the process of letting go is very much akin to (even related to) the process of of finding and eliminating Greed. Both are insidious -- as that linked blogpost points out, I have clearly and fully let go of lots of greed, both of the major and minor type. The same can be said of letting go of attachments and emotions. And yet, every time I feel I've made wonderful progress with either, I'll discover new and different ways that greed is manifesting itself, or that I'm holding on to an attachment or outcome in perhaps a different way. Thankfully, for the most part these are minor, particularly with greed. Letting go is still harder and in more major ways, and keeps surfacing again and again. Clearly, I'm not there yet.

While fear is part of what I'm letting go, it's interesting to me in that fear has never been a real part of my life. I've never hesitated to make major changes and live with the consequences. Mostly, the consequences were of a pleasant nature. Often, they effected major life changes of a kind that needed to be made. For example, it's amazing what one can learn about oneself during a two-month solo bicycle trip in the Colorado Rockies. Camping out every night, often in severe thunderstorms, preparing meals over a tiny camp stove, flat tires, exhaustion, struggling up steep Continental Divide passes or up a trail to the top of a fourteener can really tell you what you're made of -- and what you want to be made of.

The absence of physical fear did not, however, alleviate the deep inner fears that created a painfully shy child, teenager and adult. Much of the shyness eased, at least on the surface, but many of those deep fears remain and that's what I'm struggling with as much as I'm struggling with letting go of attachment to outcome. With letting go of control, if you will.

A few weeks ago, after writing the previous post here, I began a 28-day experiment with the idea of simply trusting that the perfect place/situation for me is out there and that it will be revealed in the proper time. Doing this gradually took the pressure -- internal pressure -- off the whole process of figuring out what to do, where to go. The result? Contentment.

That's a big deal. Many times I've found myself sitting on my sofa reading, for example, and realized that I was totally and completely content with that perfect moment and life in general. It continues, and expands daily -- and certainly not because life is what we'd think of as particularly perfect. I'm living in a house with no hot water, so how perfect could it be? But it feels perfect because I've accepted the reality of the moment -- from the lack of hot water to letting go of fretting about 'where to go and what to do'.  This is what's happening and since I can't change it, let it go.  Like everything else, this reality will change, for better or worse, so why grasp at it? Why get stuck on it? Why let it bother you? That's what I'm told enlightenment -- full enlightenment -- is all about. Arahants (fully enlightened ones) have aches and pains and frustrations and everything the rest of us have -- the difference is that it doesn't bother them. That's the goal.

No decisions about my future, but then, none are required yet. I'm here until spring and have confidence that the answer will be revealed by then. I'm certainly seeing things more clearly about all of the previous options, and have sent a letter of inquiry into yet another possibility. In the meantime, I continue to watch thoughts and insights arise and become clear, and letting this contentment soak as fully and deeply into the heart/mind as possible.

 On the other hand, I'm finding a bit of greed around baked goodies -- something I fight every winter because baking simply seems like the thing to do in cold weather, so while life is good I am far from perfect.

Back to square one

When I began this journey a few months back I wanted -- needed -- to be open to the process. Some doors would open, others would close, and the key was to accept whatever happened -- whether internal or external.

From mid-April until about a week ago, I was busily running hither and yon from one Buddhist location to another. As written previously, after the two extraordinary retreats in April I was left with a sense that everything inside had exploded and needed to resettle into some new pattern. Because of previous commitments in May and June, I never really had a chance to let that fully happen. The two scheduled monastery visits only compounded the confusion. I haven't written about either of these because nothing seemed willing or able to settle into anything coherent enough to write.  And truthfully, it still hasn't. Whether or not this post will be coherent remains to be seen, but I finally feel able to begin.

The Austin monastery was, as expected, extraordinary, even in the midst of construction noise and chaos. In a brief conversation with the contractor, he referred to it as a 'five-star monastery', and I have to agree. It's beautiful, and it's luxurious. My kuti was made of stone, with lots of windows, a walk-in closet with built-in drawers, a full bath with double shower, a big corner desk/shelving combo, a small refrigerator, a hot-water dispenser, plus electricity, wireless internet and heat/AC. None that I've ever had or seen elsewhere had any of these features, other than heat. The pagoda and meditation room are exquisite. Life could be good here and the door is open to me to return and stay if I wish. For reasons I haven't fully explored, I have a good bit of hesitancy and resistance to doing that.

Bhavana was as wonderful as always -- perhaps more so because I was there between retreats, as a visitor, and could envision and experience the life of a resident (and of course, that was the point). From past visits, and from speaking with a couple of people I know who have been long-term residents there in the past, I had doubts in the back of my mind going in that I would be physically able to handle the amount/kind of work required without exhaustion. One of these past residents told me 'the residents do all the work there', another told me 'after a day of work I was so tired I couldn't meditate in the evening'. So I was prepared for this -- and in that respect, not disappointed. Being me, I didn't really want to accept this -- thought that with time my body would adjust. On my last day I had a long talk with Bhante G and he said that we must always face reality in these things, and the reality is that they need 'strong, young bodies', particularly in the winter. He was open to me being a resident in the summer, but even then, my experience is that the work is tiring. So, while that door is not totally closed for me, it certainly is closed for any long-term residency. And I'm OK with that.

I found that I experienced similar reactions upon return from each visit -- fatigue (and I think, some deep inner disappointment/discouragement that I haven't fully explored) that was all-encompassing. In each case, I slept seemingly around the clock for a week or more, then emerged into whatever passes for normal.  Today is the first day of that emergence from the Bhavana visit.The good news in this is that even through the fatigue and laziness of these two experiences, my inner work continued (whether I wanted it to or not), and my long-established habit of inner awareness caught all the nuances of what was popping up in my mind. I've seen hints of things I don't necessarily want to -- but of course need to -- explore more deeply. Such explorations take more energy than I have yet, but eventually I will be driven to actually sit on my cushion and take a hard look. When my mind is ready for that, it'll happen.

The one thing I have learned is that my fantasy of being homeless, driving hither and yon across country, down into Mexico and back up here to spend time in various monasteries, is just not reality for me because I simply don't have the energy for it. I can drive long days (12 hours coming home from Bhavana), but even shorter days with overnight stops are tiring. I can't begin to envision doing this intentionally day after day, year-round. Even if there are periods of 6-months between trips. As Bhante G said, we must face reality in these things, and the reality for me is that my body is simply too old for such things. Not everyone at 70 is this 'old', and not everyone at 70 is this 'young', but this is clearly something I cannot do.

So -- back to square one. What do I do? Two monasteries are open to me, but I'm as yet not comfortable with long-term residency at either. There are compelling reasons to not stay where I am (as well as compelling reasons to do just that).

What I've decided for now is to just sit tight until all this settles down before making any decisions. I'm still open to any doors that open to me, but fortunately there's no need to rush into anything.

Letting go

The process of letting go is so difficult for most of us -- and yet so very necessary if we want to move forward. I'm often reminded of the Buddha's words on this.

Let go of the past, let go of the future, let go of the present, and cross over to the farther shore of existence.
With mind wholly liberated,
you shall come no more to birth and death.

Dhammapada 24.348

Simple words, but like so many of the Buddha's simple words, far from easy to do -- yet completely possible to do. The Buddha also said somewhere that he would never ask us to do what is not possible, to do what he himself had not done. The degree of difficulty in these things, I believe, has to do with one's own individual life circumstance -- karma, if you will.

Over the years I've let go of countless things -- mostly thoughts and perceptions and ideas that left me mired in mud, unable to move forward, and countless long-held emotions and sorrows and resentments. I do have a tendency to obsess over things from time to time -- perhaps regrets over past actions, or replaying/rewriting past conversations, for example. I give equal obsession time to future plans and conversations and worrying about whatever's going on in the present. Oddly enough, it seems that these are the things that most people think about when they're sitting in meditation and can't concentrate their minds. Somehow I found that fact to be comforting when I first heard it, years ago. It's always good to know that I'm not alone in my craziness.

Despite all the past practice, I keep needing to be reminded that letting go -- regardless of the situation -- is best and easiest in the long run. What we're letting go of, of course, is attachment to a person, place, thing, idea, emotions and feelings and so on. It's the attachment, the craving and desire for that person, place, thing, idea, emotion or feeling that makes letting go difficult and keeps us in the round of suffering.

I make good use of letting go daily in small situations, but lately, I've had good opportunity to put it into practice in more major situations once again. When I first let go of the fear of 'going forward' into intentional homelessness, I had a couple of specific ideas about where I'd go and what I'd do -- for me, that was necessary in order to feel a level of comfort with the process. Without realizing it, I became attached to those ideas, despite wanting to be free with the process -- to 'go with the flow', so to speak.

Last week, I found myself all wrapped up in fear about this. Full of what if's. What if the monastery in Austin doesn't invite me to visit at all, and even if they invite me to visit, what if they don't invite me to spend time as a resident there? Oh dear, oh dear. What will I do then? I can't live in Mexico year-round! What if I end up not being accepted at any monastery as a resident? What if none of them wants me? You get the picture. A whole roiling wave of 'what ifs' that stayed with me for a few days.

Fortunately, through meditation I realized that I needed to simply let go of trying to control what the monasteries will or will not do. I also opted to look more closely at monasteries other than the one in Austin, and that flowed into simply letting go completely.  Instead of worrying and trying to control the situation, I'll wait and see what doors open -- and close -- first, and go from there. That left me in a good state of peace about the process once again.

The letting go of material things is a different process, yet related. I lost all difficulty with that about two years ago during a deep meditative experience which I'll write about someday. At that point, I stopped buying things that weren't necessary -- dropped the 'I wants' forever. More recently, I've begun the process of decluttering my house as I prepare to move on to a new life. Most books are gone (or waiting to be sent to friends). Bags of paper from files have gone to recycling, five boxes of general 'stuff' has gone to Goodwill. More has simply gone into the trash. Some things -- particularly some books -- were harder to let go of than others, but with every bag and box and book that's left the house, I've felt more and more free. It's a wonderful feeling and I look forward to letting go of more and more 'stuff'. Emotional stuff as well as material stuff.

And who knows -- maybe none of the monasteries will invite me to become a resident. In that case, I'll look to other options, other possibilities. Six months in Baja would be a good start. In the meantime, I'll rest in comfort with the knowledge that at least I have a confirmed visit to Austin in May. After that -- well, I'll worry about that then.

Resting in consciousness

Back in 2009 my morning mail brought my semi-annual newsletter from Spirit Rock Meditation Center in Marin County, California. Inside that was an excerpt from a then-new book by Jack Kornfield, founder of Spirit Rock. It's a full page excerpt and as I began to read I was at first confused by the term 'Rest in Consciousness". What does that mean, Jack? Of course, as I read on he answered that question, in detail, until I could understand it and understand that here was the answer to my questions, the lesson I have been meant to learn from my present situation.

One of the most basic tenets of Buddhism is that everything changes. The goal, simply put, is to watch these changes occur without reacting in fear or craving. Hard for us simple humans to do. It was also hard to encapsulate all I learned that morning and all that is in this excerpt into a few words on this page, but I think these quotes from the excerpt perhaps explain it best in the fewest words:

"To rest in consciousness is the opposite of contraction and fear. When we rest in consciousness we become unafraid of the changing conditions of life." He goes on to say that we can simply notice the two distinct dimensions to our life: the ever-changing flow of experiences, and that which knows the experiences. And finally, he says:

"When we learn to rest in awareness there's both caring and a silence. There is listening for what's the next thing to do and awareness of all that's happening, a big space and a connected feeling of love. When there is enough space, our whole being can both apprehend the situation and be at ease. We see the dance of life, we dance beautifully, yet we're not caught in it. In any situation, we can open up, relax, and return to the sky-like nature of consciousness."

That day years ago, I have learned to rest in consciousness, if only for short moments. But I know that short moments lead to longer moments which in turn lead to totality. Thank you, for this lesson. And thank you for placing the situation before me so that I could learn. I'm still not at that wonderful 100% level, but I understand the lesson and know how to reach that point.

I also ordered and thoroughly enjoyed the book, which is entitled The Wise Heart: A Guide to the Universal Teachings of Buddhist Philosophy.