When I was working as an organic farmer/ sustainable builder I learned to be very self-contained in terms of my Buddhist practice. I had no choice.
Farms by their nature are always in the middle of no where, and even getting access to on-line Dharma talks was difficult at times.
Farms by their nature are always in the middle of no where, and even getting access to on-line Dharma talks was difficult at times.
As a result, I got used to doing self-led retreats either by myself or with a couple of friends. I also learned how to meditate in some very "strange" places like bus terminals, horse stalls, corn fields, etc. I called upon this experience recently over Memorial Day weekend when I decided to do a 2-day, self-led retreat.
The practice was simple. I found a shady spot outside, practiced seated meditation for 45-minutes, and then walked around until I found a new place to sit. Over the course of those two days I learned some things that will stay with me until my dying day. They are as follows:
Bird Poop is Part of The Process
One of the places I chose for my meditation was a park near my house. It was an ideal setting with big leafy trees, park benches, and every bird imaginable singing their hearts out. I put down my cushion on a hillside under one of the larger trees, sat down underneath it, and brought my focus to my breath.
Then the thoughts started. I worried about getting grass stains on my robes. I worried that birds were going to poop on me. I worried that one of the kids skate boarding in the park would have a freak accident, and their board would some how hit me in the head!
But it was too late to worry about any of that. I was committed, and like the Buddha I was going to sit under that tree until I realized enlightenment or my meditation timer went off; which ever came first.
As I continued to sit, I realized that my fears were completely unfounded. I wanted to sit in a beautiful park with birds singing in the trees. But you can't enjoy those things without dealing grass stains and bird poop. They're part of the process, and expecting anything else is a cause of suffering.
As humans, we have a lot of strange expectations that cause suffering. We want to earn a paycheck, but we don't want to go to to work. We want to drive cars, but we don't want to get stuck in traffic. In other words, we want the good, but we don't want the not-so-good in life, and we suffer as a result.
That being said, I didn't get pooped on during my meditation, and I opened my eyes to reasonably clean robes. Thankful for this lesson on acceptance, I packed up my things and walked to the next park.
But it was too late to worry about any of that. I was committed, and like the Buddha I was going to sit under that tree until I realized enlightenment or my meditation timer went off; which ever came first.
As I continued to sit, I realized that my fears were completely unfounded. I wanted to sit in a beautiful park with birds singing in the trees. But you can't enjoy those things without dealing grass stains and bird poop. They're part of the process, and expecting anything else is a cause of suffering.
As humans, we have a lot of strange expectations that cause suffering. We want to earn a paycheck, but we don't want to go to to work. We want to drive cars, but we don't want to get stuck in traffic. In other words, we want the good, but we don't want the not-so-good in life, and we suffer as a result.
That being said, I didn't get pooped on during my meditation, and I opened my eyes to reasonably clean robes. Thankful for this lesson on acceptance, I packed up my things and walked to the next park.
We Cause Harm When We Don't Pay Attention
Finally, I arrived at my designated spot, and I looked around for a suitable place to sit. I found a tree that had no birds in its branches, and I threw my cushion down underneath it in preparation for my practice. Then I sat down, straightened my back, and began to breathe mindfully.
After a short time, I felt the unmistakable tingle of insects crawling on my hands. As every outdoor meditator knows part of the "fun" is playing the what's crawling on me now game.
Flies land on you, ants crawl on you, and the occasional spider attempts to build a web if you hang out for too long. But more often than not the creepy crawlies will be on their way in no time if one sits quietly in calm-abiding. With this in mind, I refocused my breathing, and waited patiently,
Only, the creepy crawlies didn't go away. Instead, they were joined by other creepy crawlies! Eventually, I felt one especially brave soul crawl up my arm and then my neck until he was just under my ear...
"Nope!" I thought to myself as I stood up from under the tree. Having insects crawl on me was one thing, but I drew the line at having them crawl in my ear.
As I looked down at my robes I noticed that my arms were covered in tiny ants. Being careful to not hurt them, I knelt down and brushed them off. I watched as they fell to the ground and scurried away. "Where did they all come from," I wondered as I got down on my hands and knees for a closer look.
My confusion quickly turned to horror as I realized that I'd been sitting right next to an ant hill. If I had put my cushion down one inch farther to the right, I would've destroyed their home.
Thankfully, when I got on my hands and knees for a closer look I noticed that while my insect friends were definitely agitated with the clumsy human in their mist they seemed to be largely okay. "Sorry guys," I whispered as I grabbed my stuff and stepped carefully away from the tree.
As I walked away from the park I pondered what'd just happened. I didn't pay attention to what was right in front of me, and I nearly killed hundreds of sentient beings as a result. It suddenly made sense why right mindfulness is part of the Noble 8-Fold Path.
Being focused on the present moment is key if we want to ensure our actions are beneficial to everyone around us.
The Whole World is My Sangha
Next, I decided to meditate next to a lake. It was getting late in the day, and the sun was slowly inching towards the horizon as I took in my surroundings. There were numerous people walking around and a group of children were screaming gleefully as they chased each other on the grass.
I chose a spot under a tree near the shore and sat down on the cushion. There were two women seated nearby taking selfies and lake was filled jet skis and every type of motorboat one can imagine.
I took a moment to check above me and below me. There were no birds in the branches above me, so I was in little danger of getting pooped on. And there were no tiny insects making there home under the base of the tree; at least none that I could see. Satisfied, I closed my eyes and began the meditation.
As I sat there the sounds of of the world around me filled my ears. My first instinct was to try and block them out, but I learned long ago that this is a losing game. The world will always be there, banging at the front door. The best way to deal with it is by letting it in.
So, I did. I listened to the sounds of jet skis as they ripped past me in the water. I reveled in the sound of leaves rustling in the trees, and chuckled inwardly as the selfie-taking women negotiated who would hold the camera for the next picture.
But as I continued in the meditation my focus expanded until I was hearing sounds without attaching any thoughts to them. The sound of leaves rustling above me slowly shifted to become "rustling" and finally just "..."
But as I continued in the meditation my focus expanded until I was hearing sounds without attaching any thoughts to them. The sound of leaves rustling above me slowly shifted to become "rustling" and finally just "..."
The boundary between myself and the outside world slowly disintegrated until there was no "me" sitting on the cushion. There was just sound and the raw experience of life exactly as it is. The overall experience was one of deep satisfaction and resounding peace.
Of course, the feeling didn't last forever. Eventually, the timer on my phone went off and I was pulled back into my body. When I opened my eyes the women were gone, there were fewer jet skis on the water, and I was alone in the park except for a few stragglers who were watching the sunset.
I started to pack up my things, but I stopped for a moment to reflect on what I'd just experienced. I knew that it was special, and I knew that I should forget about it as quickly as I could. After all, getting attached to special mind-states is a recipe for disaster.
That being said, I couldn't help but feel like I'd been given a gift; or a lesson at the very least. I was able to drop into the deepest meditation when I completely surrendered to everything that was going on around me. I opened myself up to the world, and it responded by helping me in my practice.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this had been happening all day. The birds, the ants, and the people at the park had all been supporting me like a traditional Buddhist sangha. They'd taught me lessons and given me exactly what I needed to find my inner stillness.
When we open our eyes and really look at the world around us, it becomes clear that we're being supported in a number of ways. Everyone and everything on the planet is working hard to help us in our walk toward awakening. We just need to open our eyes and notice the gifts that we're given.
A feeling of gratitude filled my heart as I picked up my backpack, and put my arms through the straps. It was getting dark, so I'd have to do the next few sitting periods at my apartment. Dutifully, I took a deep breath and began the long walk home.
Of course, the feeling didn't last forever. Eventually, the timer on my phone went off and I was pulled back into my body. When I opened my eyes the women were gone, there were fewer jet skis on the water, and I was alone in the park except for a few stragglers who were watching the sunset.
I started to pack up my things, but I stopped for a moment to reflect on what I'd just experienced. I knew that it was special, and I knew that I should forget about it as quickly as I could. After all, getting attached to special mind-states is a recipe for disaster.
That being said, I couldn't help but feel like I'd been given a gift; or a lesson at the very least. I was able to drop into the deepest meditation when I completely surrendered to everything that was going on around me. I opened myself up to the world, and it responded by helping me in my practice.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this had been happening all day. The birds, the ants, and the people at the park had all been supporting me like a traditional Buddhist sangha. They'd taught me lessons and given me exactly what I needed to find my inner stillness.
When we open our eyes and really look at the world around us, it becomes clear that we're being supported in a number of ways. Everyone and everything on the planet is working hard to help us in our walk toward awakening. We just need to open our eyes and notice the gifts that we're given.
A feeling of gratitude filled my heart as I picked up my backpack, and put my arms through the straps. It was getting dark, so I'd have to do the next few sitting periods at my apartment. Dutifully, I took a deep breath and began the long walk home.
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I found this blog post incredibly helpful. I came across it posted in an FB discussion group I belong to. I referenced this blog and this particular post in a video I just posted on my YouTube channel. I'd love to know what you think.
ReplyDeletehttps://youtu.be/TJ19tniQm3E
Keep up the great work!