All of us, whether we consciously know it or not, at some level continue to hold the great question of existence (the “Great Matter” according to Zen master Dogen.) These inquiries can vary from occasional spiritual pursuits (checking things out here and there) to perhaps basic Sunday, or even just holiday, Christian church worship and then all the way to being a yogi meditating in a cave. In between lies the everyday dance of seeking the pleasant and avoiding the unpleasant, seeking comfort and avoiding discomfort — for ourselves, our families and others. Why would this basic trait, common to all conscious beings, be at all connected to spiritual pursuits? For humans, we could say that this is because once basic physical needs are met, we venture along the slippery slope of seeking happiness, for ourselves and others. Happiness is not really a physical thing, rather a state of mind or simply a State, much like love is a state. True happiness is special. So, this “seeking happiness” or maybe just seeking peace can lead one toward spiritual pursuits, especially if one sees the basic nature of our realm to be forever changing and impermanent. Once that sinks in, and unfortunately for most only at the end of their lives, the pursuit of happiness through attachment to the things, people, pursuits, accomplishments and other actions we love, loses some of its sweetness, and becomes a “pointer.” Disenchantment arises and we ironically ask, is there more?
What is the “payoff” of meditation and a disciplined spiritual training program, called “a practice?” This question applies to many Buddhists and also those pursuing other types of meditation and spiritual work. If an outsider were to watch what happens during a week-long Buddhist retreat, or sesshin, they might be appalled or very puzzled seeing people gazing motionless toward a wall, doing “nothing” for hours. They then get up and silently practice walking mediation and later silently eat a communal formal meal (Oryoki) with very prescribed procedures. The day starts early, 5:00 am. What would be the payoff for this “self-induced torture?” Beginners, and even advanced retreat participants will likely experience uncomfortable periods, from physical body pain due to unaccustomed sitting to mental pain of simply doing the discipline and concentration, to mental pain of facing difficult thoughts while sitting.
While Zen Master Dogen describes shikantaza, or just sitting, as the technique of non-thinking and experientially being “enlightenment itself,” a vast majority of those that sit experience a plethora of thoughts and emotions. Due to our conditioning or karma, it is as if one’s head is a bell experiencing various harmonic levels of mental vibration. Consider your head to be a cooking pot. Sitting is all about taking care and being aware just like diligently preparing a savory pot of stew. A lot of stuff happens while “sitting on the cushion!” Despite the hardships, after a sesshin most individuals will report to a lesser or greater degree a sense of calmness and an ineffable feeling of being a little closer to the heart of the “Great Matter.” For some, the whole retreat might be a truly wonderful and peaceful experience. This might be attributable to their years of training or simply due to fortunate karma, or in other words, the coming together of positive causes and conditions. Below is a description one person’s recent experience at a retreat followed by a story from this mystic. Sometimes there is unexpected encouragement.
This individual is an advanced practitioner of Soto Zen Buddhism. His dharma talk and experience can be listened to here. Understandably, this individual was very concentrated and measured and likely his mind was quite calm, like a lake with few ripples. He describes a certain period of walking meditation, where he was carefully focusing on making a right angle turn at the end of the meditation hall, when seemingly straight out of the floor, he hears the words “I will help you.” He describes the words as “articulated, enunciated and said with great authority.” This experience made a big, energetic, impact on this individual, creating a sense of encouragement, wonder, and tranquility. These feelings had a staying effect. He said he “felt cared for.” Weeks later and after talking with his teacher he felt that the experience was a direct result of his concentration efforts and practice. In the end he concludes that the words were not important at all; what was important was the openness, viability, receptivity and wisdom brought on by the event. His talk is entitled; the True Dharma Appears of Itself.
Prior to formally committing to the practice of Buddhist teachings I routinely meditated, primarily using various Samatha or yogic methods involving breathing techniques and mantras. About 26 years ago, at the time working in Nevada in a State environmental position, helping support the family, I became increasingly discouraged as to what the benefits of meditation were. There seemed little peace or joy in it at the time and worldly stresses seemed to be piling on. Then, during a certain meditation, clear out of the blue the words “I am” reverberated in my head, and really in the whole body. The experience was very uplifting and encouraging. Looking back on this experience, the words “articulated, enunciated and said with great authority,” applied exactly. A definite feeling or acknowledgement of being cared for, not being alone in the Universe, was present. I still feel this to be true. Particularly back then my practice included a certain amount of devotion toward a higher being, so the immediate thought was, “is God speaking to me?” My answer/response to this was simply curiosity. Buddhism teaches us emptiness, the essential no separate self of all phenomenon. The flip side of this is interdependence. To have a mediation experience with clear words is a blessing as well as a trap, that is, if one overthinks it. Internet research suggests a state where the individual realizes they are the pure, formless “I AM,” beyond the ego or mind. This is a non-dual state and a mystery beyond words. Finally, as Goldstein and Kornfield write in Seeking the Heart of Wisdom “The greatest of our spiritual experiences become only a memory. When one Western student described to an Asian teacher all of the important experiences of his years of practice, the only response he got was, ‘Oh, something more to let go of.’”
This mystic will add that everyday can be a spiritual experience, if we just stay mindful. Our cat, Katy just passed away recently. She had advanced kidney failure, stopped her usual routines and then eventually refused to eat. She had been sleeping under a chair in the closet for about a week, but on the morning of the day when the vet was to arrive to euthanize her, we found her nestled in the bottom tube of the cat tree. It was a beautiful and sunny fall morning and Katy staggered to the door, wanting out. I spent the next hour or so with her, while waiting for the vet, watching her slowly move from spot to spot, sunning herself, sniffing the air, and still interacting with me by gently rubbing up against my legs. Did she know the end was near? Maybe, but that does not matter so much. Did she feel the warmth of the sun and the gentle breezes? YES! I sobbed uncontrollably while holding her as the vet administered the injection.
Little Known Mystic 