Lately, the sound of my breath is interrupting my morning meditation. It’s noisy, calling attention to itself. I am not just exhaling. I am “pushing” my breath, hurrying it along.
It is as if I hear the sound of my thoughts and use my breath to expel them–emptying my mind and closing it off.
These thoughts are a part of me, words with images. With each breath, I expel a load. These days, the sound of my breath is gale force, far from mindful.
At every moment where language can’t go, that is your mind.
I guess that is where I try to go every morning for an hour or so and then take a bit of that into the rest of my day. It’s tricky, this mindfulness stuff.
I remind myself about the stories of the Buddha realizing what enlightenment means. It is a gift but the experience of it is life changing. It is not floating around in peace in a never-ending story.
Well, it is but getting there is giving up a lot like language, labels and learning to share space with all living things. The activities of daily living don’t magically stop or become unnecessary.
It’s just the perspective that changes. It’s a completely different lens.
Our Buddha mind is enclosed within the
walls of our ordinary mind.
But when we become enlightened,
it is as if the vase shatters into pieces.
Sogyal Rinpoche, Glimpse of the Day
And then the sound of breath is soundless. Until then, patience is my practice.
Marianne Williamson says “infinite patience yields immediate results.” I don’t disagree. I think there is a glimpse, a moment when there is a favorable shift in the odds. In other words, growing awareness.
No overnight enlightenment for me, and I’m okay with that.
Patience resides in the hard places, where it hurts the most to be, physically or emotionally. To sit with the pain is patience. It takes trust.
The minute the struggle to sit stops, that’s the when the odds shift from suffering to acceptance. The pain may be less or may be more but there is no more holding onto it.
Infinite patience, immediate results.
It is the “unpleasant experience” in which I hear the sound of my breath, forcing words to empty the mind, which is not to say the words will not return.
They do, in Technicolor–full image–even a movie if I allow my memory its way.
My ego has superstar status when I lack compassion, refuse to listen to a point of view so opposite from mine. It is unpleasant, at times frightening, and every time I turn away from “the enemy,” I turn away from myself.
I hide in the jar of my “ordinary” mind, seeking solace but staying separate from my “Buddha” mind. In frustration, I breathe and the words keep coming.
I know of no Zen or Buddhist teacher that does not advise both patience and tolerance as well as interaction with our enemies. Not on a full-time basis but to seek what separates us.
Break through the clay, completely cast it aside.
It’s not about changing anyone into what they are not. It is about breathing the same air with everyone else, soundlessly.