Some reflections and encouragement for the idealistic spiritual seeker (myself)

“A mind burdened with knowledge cannot possibly understand, surely, that which is real, which is not measurable.”

In “I Am That – Talks with Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj,” questioners are advised to cease from erudition, to be quiet, and to live their life remembering as often as possible simply to observe the background sense ‘I am.’ In a similar vein, those who have been exposed to Zen literature will be familiar with the exhortation: “Do not to seek the Truth as if it were something to be “figured out,” but rather, simply stop cherishing any and all opinions that arise in the mind.”

Yet one quickly learns, or at least I did, that it is one thing to admire those words, and something orders of magnitude different – orders of reality different – to put them into practice. It turns out I am not nearly as earnest or committed as I would like to be. The problem arises as soon as I attempt to put the advice “stop cherishing all opinions and live in constant mindfulness as often as you can remember” into practice. I am frustrated a thousand times a day by my seething passions, which I am too weak to sit with without reacting. And I constantly turn this spiritual aspiration into a mere shiny bauble in my mind. Something nice to think about and make myself feel special. I settle for using meditation as self-help. To let go of my ‘self’ entirely is far far beyond me. I am too scared. I am too attached to my erudition. In a gross hypocrisy I plaster “spiritual” onto my existing sense of identity and use it to separate myself from others. And now look at me – I’ve started a blog. Ugh. But maybe it can’t be helped. I feel so frustrated and alone.

Rumi said: “Don’t do anything to make people applaud. That shuts the cage door tighter… The Way is usually downward, through humility and grief into union.” I wonder what he would have thought about blogging.

I started, in my impatience for “enlightenment”, with some psychedelic experiences, some Vipassana retreats. I had one or two noteworthy experiences, but then, like all experiences, they were gone, and life moves on. My attitude was all wrong. I was trying to “get” something. I went back to my life and something in me hadn’t really moved. My vibration was still the same if you will (I’ve borrowed some phrasing from Mooji here). So ok, I decide to stop compulsively reading the menagerie of spiritual literature out there and actually commit to a lineage. Stop admiring and start practicing full time. Stop shopping around the dealership and actually pick a car and start moving forward. I decide to seek a teacher and stay in a Zen monastery. “I am a baby tree”, I think. Better to live in a community of wise elders. They will be the twine and posts that keep me upright so I don’t get blown over by the storms of the mind. Much later, when I am a full-grown tree, I can re-enter the world and stay upright no matter what comes my way. Fine. Good. But when I begin my stay at the monastery I find it is too painful. There is too much resistance. I want to read, to write, to travel, to learn languages, to fall in love, to have a family. Want, want, want. I am burning up with my desires. At the monastery I feel like a rebellious, petulant adolescent all over again. I am constantly angry. In theory, I acknowledge that this constant thirst for experiences must come to an end. I must stop and sit still and look within. But in practice it is too much. I feel like I’m trying to peel a bumper sticker that’s been stuck on my car for a long time. I can maybe only get it in bits and pieces. If I stay persistent with my practice, will the worldly interest and ambition gradually whither away on their own? Will the sticker lose its adhesiveness and simply drop away without any forceful peeling required? After three months at the monastery, I leave.

I’m reminded of a story I picked up somewhere. It was about the wife of Ramakrishna, who used to scold Ramakrishna’s devotees for trying to fall off the tree before they were ripe. Am I an unripe fruit trying to fall off the tree too soon?

Similarly, the Sufis talk about having 40 jobs in the world before devoting oneself to the spiritual life. I don’t think they literally mean 40. It is meant as a figurative, symbolic number. Like Jesus spent 40 days in the desert. Moses spent 40 days on Mount Sinai where he received the 10 commandments, etc…

But I am suspicious of my use of the Sufi and Ramakrishna examples. I want to use them as an excuse to have my cake and eat it too. If I let myself, I would gladly throw myself back into the world. And in fact, it would seem that this is exactly what I have done. I am pursuing traveling, writing, and learning languages. I sometimes fantasize about meeting a romantic interest. I try my best to rationalize and lie to myself: “Sure, the spiritual life is worthy, but let me save it for when I’m older. Let me have a few more spins around the merry-go-round first. Let me get my jollies just a few more times first.” Hah. Maybe you can relate, dear reader. Or here’s another one: “Yeah, sure – I recognize and agree that all experience is Dukkha. But I don’t really suffer that much. I’m young and healthy and privileged and haven’t known any real tragedy. Let me wait until some tragedy strikes, and then I’ll turn to spirituality.” Thoughts like these would carry me away entirely, were it not for the warning in my heart. I fear that I am betraying myself, that I have willfully turned away from my heart’s calling, and my pain, rather than abetting, only increases day by day.

Ok, let me stop here lest I overindulge in dramatization or confuse things. Some brief perspective is needed to end my reflections today. Firstly, one doesn’t have to be in a monastery to live a spiritual life. I used to think that if I were really earnest, I would just drop everything and become a monk. But naturally, monasticism is a vocation like any other. Some have this vocation and others don’t, but lacking the vocation has no bearing on one’s devotion to meditation and living a highly moral life. Secondly, I must continually remind myself of the nature of the spiritual life. I must not get distracted by seeking Kensho/Satori/awakening experiences. (more on this in a later post if I decide to maintain this blog). Those experiences come and go. But the bread and butter of spirituality is waking up and saying something like: “Today, let me bear what needs to be borne, do good for others, and follow the true call of my heart, wherever it may lead.” This never ends. No matter what has come before, I will need to stay diligent and continue converting my Karma until the day I die. I must continue to develop my ability to listen through the practice of meditation. I must not be carried away by seasons of happiness or sadness.

The Theravadan monk Ajahn Sumedho wrote: “I don’t know what I will have to experience before I die – good health or bad, success or failure, whatever – but that doesn’t bother me any more; it doesn’t concern me. When one is just willing to live one’s life. Whether it is happy, successful and healthy or not, isn’t a problem, because one sees that the kamma is ‘like this’. The conditions for sickness and bad health are here, but one doesn’t create a problem around whatever life presents.” 

A monk at the monastery told me: “The only difference between happiness and sadness is that happiness feels better. But our practice doesn’t change.”

And finally, the Buddha (who knew a thing or two about austerity) is purported to have said: “Patience is the greatest austerity.”

So I will continue on, trying to practice patience and living earnestly, intentionally. And when it seems I am not doing my best, when my heart is hurting because I have turned away from my deepest aspiration, I will endeavor to stop and listen to that feeling. I remember expressing my doubts and inner conflict regarding spiritual vs. worldly ambition to a senior monk once. She listened kindly and then she replied: “Do what you feel like you need to do according to your best judgement right now, but do not waste time. “

I really do not know whether what I am doing these days is the manifestation of my true heart-wish, or whether it is just old conditioning acting upon and through me. I must take refuge in meditation more and more in order to see more clearly. The more I can Let Go during meditation, the more clarity will infuse the rest of my life. And I must not give up in living by the precepts – in living as impeccably and morally as I can possibly manage. Sometimes I feel so tired, so fed up with myself. But I cannot escape. Here I am. Always at the beginning.