Blend: Stillness

I have continued to reflect upon and work with the difficulties of dealing with pain and aversion. I have noticed for a long time that when I feel good, I will completely forget about when I felt bad, and that correspondingly, when I feel terrible, I will often lose all track of any notion of or possibility of feeling good. As my practice is developing, I am more aware of the opposite feeling, but I often experience this awareness as unpleasant. Recently, I wound up trying something different.

Earlier in the day I had felt very good, and then later started to feel miserable. Then I sat down to meditate. Somehow, in my mind’s eye, I had an image of myself sitting on the chair opposite, which was where I had been sitting the last time I had felt so good. I imagined the “me” that had felt good merging with the “me” that wasn’t feeling so good. At the moment of this imaginary merging there was a sharp but prolonged, involuntary intake of breath, with a vocal squeak at the end of it, and then there was just this profound stillness—no bliss, no misery, no thinking either, just stillness.

Throughout this I had maintained some attention on the body, which was where the stillness was experienced, but this ‘sensation’ (if that’s what is was), which is difficult to describe, was particularly concentrated in the areas where there had been discomfort or pain just moments before this. This stillness persisted until the end of the meditation, and for some time afterwards as well.


On another occasion, I was sitting at my desk at work thinking about how much I disliked the room and everything in it. Then I closed my eyes and imagined what setting I would prefer, and visualized a beautiful country scene, with a view of the fall colours in the leaves of the trees. This made me feel really blissful. Then I opened my eyes and it felt as if I was in two places at once: the place where I wanted to be and the office. And then I was at peace. This tranquility and well being persisted too, and for an even longer time.

Blank: Light and Dark

Only when you see the light
Do you realize how dark the darkness is (was).

But I’d forgotten
What light was like too,
Which was the reason
It was so bright.

A voice said, “this is light.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“That which is blinding you now.”

“Oh,” said I.

And then plunging back
Into darkness,
I saw how dark the darkness was.

Now then,
Where does the darkness
Meet the light?

I expect it happens all the time,
But only when you don’t notice
Anything special,
Or don’t expect it, perhaps.

Blade: And So It Goes

Wow!

What a course that was.

All I have to say is:

The most exciting, rewarding, harrowing adventures I have are the ones I have sitting by myself doing what the outside observer would think was nothing.

Building an anchor is really hard work.

It’s the baggage: it keeps following me.

This reminds me of the time I was riding my bike down this dirt track on a hot and sunny summer’s day. Suddenly I saw my shadow in the dirt, pursued by numerous tiny shadows. It was a swarm of horseflies chasing me, presumably after my blood.

My meditation practice seemed helpful when it was new because it was new; the swarm had not yet located it.

But, now it has, and so the trouble begins anew.

For help, I turned to the late Zen Master, Shunryu Suzuki’s, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind:

“The goal of practice is always to keep our beginner’s mind.”

For, “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities. In the expert’s mind there are few.”

And so, I went back to the most basic practice, the practice of focusing on my breathing, and there I found peace, for a time.

Ah but, the saga continues. . .