Underneath it all we feel that there is something lacking. We feel we have to fix our life, to quench our thirst. We've got to get that connection, to hook up our hose to the faucet and draw that water to drink.
The problem is that nothing actually works. We begin to discover that the promise we hold out to ourselves - that somehow, somewhere, our thirst will be quenched - is never kept.
Much in life can be greatly enjoyed but what we want is something absolute. We want to quench our thirst permanently, so that we have all the water we want, all the time. That promise of complete satisfaction is never kept. It can't be kept. The minute we get something we have desired, we are momentarily satisfied - and then our dissatisfaction rises again.
If we have been trying for years to attach our hose to this or that faucet, and each time have discovered that it wasn't enough, there will come a moment of profound discouragement. We begin to sense that the problem is not with our failure to connect with something out there, but that nothing external can ever satisfy the thirst. This is when we are more likely to begin a serious practice.
This can be an awful moment - to realize that nothing is ever going to satisfy. Perhaps we have a good job, a good relationship or family, yet we're still thirsty - and it dawns on us that nothing really can fulfill our demands. We may even realize that changing our life - rearranging the furniture - isn't going to work, either. That moment of despair is in fact a blessing, the real beginning.
A strange thing happens when we let go of all our expectations. We catch a glimpse of yet another faucet, one that has been invisible. We attach our hose to it and discover to our delight that water is gushing forth. We think, 'I've got it now ! I've got it !' And what happens ? Once again, the water dries up. We have brought our demands into practice itself, and we are once again thirsty.
Practice has to be a process of endless disappontment. We have to see that everything we demand ( and even get ) eventually disappoints us. This discovery is our teacher. It's why we should be careful with friends who are in trouble, not to give them sympathy by holding out false hopes and reassurances.
This kind of sympathy - which is not true compassion - simply delays their learning. In a sense, the best help we can give to anybody is to hasten their disappointment. Though that sounds harsh, it's not in fact unkind. We help others and ourselves when we begin to see that all of our usual demands are misguided. Eventually we get smart enough to anticipate our next disappointment, to know that our next effort to quench our thirst will also fail. The promise is never kept. Even with long practice, we'll sometimes seek false solutions, but as we pursue them, we recognize their futility much more rapidly. When this acceleration occurs, our practice is bearing fruit. Good sitting inevitably promotes such acceleration. We must notice the promise that we wish to exact from other people and abandon the dream that they can quench our thirst. We must realize that such an enterprise is hopeless.
We've worn out everything we can do, and we don't see what to do next. And so we suffer. Though it feels miserable at the time, that suffering is the turning point. Practice brings us to such fruitful suffering, and helps us to stay with it. When we do, at some point the suffering begins to transform itself, and the water begins to flow. In order for that to happen, however, all of our pretty dreams about life and practice have to go, including the belief that good practice - or indeed, anything at all - should make us happy.
The promise that is never kept is based on belief systems, personnally centered thoughts that keep us stuck and thirsty. Practice does not require that we get rid of them, but simply that we see through them and recognize them as empty, as invalid.
When we discover Zen practice, we may hold out a hope that it is going to solve our problems and make our life perfect. But Zen practice simply returns us to life as it is. Being our lives more and more is what Zen practice is about. Our lives are simply what they are, and Zen helps us to recognize that fact. The thought 'If I do this practice patiently enough, everything will be different' is simply another belief system, another version of the promise that is never kept.
For Zen practice : the only promise we can count upon is that when we wake up to our lives, we'll be freer persons. If we wake up to the way we see life and deal with it, we will slowly be freer - not necessarily happier or better, but freer.
Every unhappy person I've ever seen has been caught in a belief system that holds out some promise, a promise that has not been kept. Persons who have practiced well for some time are different only in the fact that they recognize this mechanism that generates unhappiness and are learning to maintain awareness of it - which is very different from trying to change it or fix it.
Real 'Zen practice' is just being here right now and not adding anything to this.
'Nothing Special Living Zen'
By/ Charlotte Joko Beck
Salam,
Cherine
ليست هناك تعليقات:
إرسال تعليق