The fifth law of the Universe is that an intuitive knowledge of the Buddha nature occurs to all people.1 When we meditate, we are beckoning to that still small voice to speak to us. Responding to this is our way of accepting our spiritual adulthood. We have all listened to this voice from time to time. The prompting of this inner urging brings us to the gates of the temple. If it is our desire to know the Eternal, to live at peace within ourselves, then we must continue to deepen this relationship.
From our cultural conditioning we may be familiar only with prayers of supplication as a method of religious worship. We may believe that religion is constantly asking God for special favors. We may not be so familiar with the Buddhist approach, which is to listen to the inner promptings of the Eternal. Instead of asking what God can do for us, we need to ask what we must do to put ourselves in harmony with the Eternal. I remember a story Rev. Jiyu-Kennett told of particularly talkative monk from a western tradition who went on at a considerable length about wanting to have “conversations with God.” Eventually, when she was able to get a word in edgewise, she suggested, as politely as she could, that he might need to be quiet enough to let God talk to him. Most of the time we are not quiet enough to hear anything other than the noisy demands of our greed, anger, worries, fears, frustrations and the “busy-ness” of our everyday lives. Our culture encourages a constant input of noise: the music in elevators or while waiting on the phone, car radios, cell phones, television, radios, and headsets to wear while exercising. We have a difficult task to find a quiet time when there is not a major input of external noise. Even when we have established a time in our day for meditation, when we can listen to the silence, it is usually anything but silent. It takes time to let go of the internal noises we generate for ourselves. If we establish a regular practice of meditation, we create a situation where the noise and busy mental processes can settle, if not completely, at least a little.
The first thing we need to listen to is the fact that we are experiencing the Buddha’s first noble Truth, that suffering is inherent in the nature of existence. Until we can experience this honestly and admit to tension, fear, greed, anger, etc., we cannot do anything about finding a way to be at peace in the middle of it. We generate a lot of noise to cover up the fact of suffering, hoping that if we can drown it out, it will go away. The other extreme is to look for some escape from all noise or unpleasantness. Neither drowning out the suffering with noise nor looking for an escape from it are a necessary part of the process of converting suffering. What does work is Buddhist training. We can train ourselves to return to the source of peace even in the middle of a deafening roar. But it takes some practice. There are no quick fixes to the problems of suffering.
Most of the time we associate learning with getting external information: books, lectures, videos, or learning from doing something new: action. Neither action nor external stimuli are necessary in the spiritual learning process. Instead we must learn how to bring the ignorance (our suffering is a symptom of this ignorance) together with the adequacy, the intuitive sense of the Eternal. This is one of the meanings of the gesture of reverence, the gassho.
If our experience in school is not particularly interesting, we may develop a habit of daydreaming. We may have our bodies in the classroom and our minds thinking about other things. We have learned to divide our attention in hundreds of different ways. We eat and read simultaneously. In the process of doing two things simultaneously, we do not give our attention to any one thing. We are particularly fearful of giving our full attention to things that are difficult or unpleasant. Learning how to listen is how we learn to convert the ignorance into deeper understanding.
Few of us like to be in a position to confront those things that are frightening; we think we prefer those things that are safe. Then there are those who are constantly risking their lives and the lives of others by doing things recklessly to get a thrill out of the risk. Buddhism teaches the middle way. We can train ourselves to relax in the middle of frightening, difficult, or uncertain circumstances. We do not need to put our lives or the lives of others at risk merely to feel alive. When we are feeling threatened or bored, we can relax and open our hearts to learn from these experiences. This constant gentle process of relaxing and opening up in the face of suffering is what goes on in meditation. The Buddha’s second noble Truth is that the cause of suffering is attachment to desire. We experience our present suffering as a result of former actions. This is the law of karma. If we learn how to be still and open ourselves and listen to something deeper in the middle of this clinging, then we can see how our actions need to be changed to prevent future suffering. We can train ourselves to let go of the clinging that creates the present suffering.
Charity is one of the Wisdoms most deeply valued by Buddhists. We have to train ourselves to give or relax when confronted by tension. We need to apply that process to giving our attentions to the task at hand. This giving process is the process of training. As we give of ourselves, we become empty of self and then we can be filled with the voice of the Eternal. This process is constant, not a one time event. As we give our attention, as we learn to listen, then we train ourselves to be generous in physical ways as well. As we shift the focus of our attention from “what’s in it for me?” to “what can I give here?” At that point, we can find real fulfillment as a person. The “real gift, of course, is giving up something we never wanted anyway”–the suffering. What most of us think of as giving is usually an exchange; we want something in return for the effort. The selfless gift is the giving without regard to getting anything in return. It represents the Bodhisattva mind. This is how we learn to listen. It is enough to hear the silence. I frequently need remind myself of this, as it often happens that I am tempted to fill up the silence with internal chatter.
There is no need to look for a better time or better circumstances before we make some changes in our lives. When people say they want to come to meditate when their schedule is less hectic or when they retire or when some other future event takes place, I hear that they are not likely to make it. We have to be willing to train ourselves in the middle of our delusions. If some external event has to take place before we can change ourselves, then we will never find the right time. The external situation is a mirror of our ignorance, and if we want to convert the ignorance to wisdom, then we need to change what it is we do both physically and spiritually. This changing process starts with listening. We can listen to that still small voice even in the middle of great chaos. There are no barriers except the greed, anger, and the delusions of self that we can let go of. Then we need to respond to that still small voice. Sitting still is already responding to the Unborn and getting the process of harmonization of body and mind going: training is enlightenment.
If we wish to be at peace and know the Eternal, then we have to let go of the suffering. If we are fully entrenched in our delusions, we imagine that letting go of the delusions is the most difficult and frightening thing that could be asked of us. Yes, it looks that way. Yes, that is the message that the “self” may give in loud and demanding terms. I know of no other way besides letting go to be at peace or to know the Eternal. If we listen to the shouts and fear, we can make no progress. If we listen and respond2 to the Buddha’s teachings and the words of those monks who are qualified to teach, then we can make real progress.
We need to listen both to the internal voice and to the external voice. The relationship with a teacher in Buddhism allows us to trust another human being. We need to trust the internal promptings and also an external one. That is why it is important that the teacher be recognized as being qualified to teach. One of the roles of the teacher in Buddhism is to provide an example; they are not saviors. They do not take over the responsibility for our actions. Nor would a genuine teacher ever ask one to do something contrary to the Precepts. It is important that we do not put the teacher on a pedestal and worship him or her, expecting our idea of perfection from them. If we do this, then we later revile them for not living up to our expectations. However, we must learn to listen and to trust both the internal and the external teacher. We have to first learn how to be our own best friend. We must train ourselves to be still enough to listen to the inner prompting of the heart and to distinguish that voice from the noisy voice of greed and anger. Then we must learn how to listen to others to hear what is really being said, which may be far different from what the surface words may state. When we listen, we must learn how to let go of our ideas and opinions based on greed, anger, and fear. We can make ourselves an empty vessel, so the words of the Dharma can be poured into us as water is poured into an empty jar; then we can hear the Truth. “To enter the stream of Buddhism, one must just harmonize the mind and the body–Shakyamuni said that one must turn the stream of compassion within and give up both knowledge and its recognition.”3 This is how we learn to listen.
References:
1 See The Book of Life, by Roshi Jiyu-Kennett& Rev. Daizui MacPhillamy, Shasta Abbey Press, Mt. Shasta, CA, 1979, p.7
2 There is a story of the Western monk, Ajahn Sumedo. When he first got to Thailand he initially worshipped his teacher Ajahn Chah, within a few months the young Sumedo starting to find fault with him. One day he enumerated the things he felt were his teacher’s short comings. Ajahn Chah responded: “Well, I’m very grateful to you Sumedo, for bringing these things up to me. I’ll really consider what you’ve said and see what can be done. But also you should bear in mind that perhaps it’s a good thing that I’m not perfect. Otherwise you might be looking for the Buddha somewhere outside your own mind.” There was a long and poignant silence. Then the young Sumedo crawled away simultaneously heartened and chastened. See Small Boat, Great Mountain by Ajahn Amaro (a disciple of Ajahn Sumedo) printed by Abhayagiri Monastic foundation, Redwood Valley, CA, 2003 p.108-109
3 Zen Is Eternal Life, by Roshi P.T.N.H. Jiyu-Kennett, from Great Master Dogen’s Shobogenzo, the Gyakudo-yojinshu (Aspects of Zazen) chapter 6: “The Necessity of Being Aware During Zazen” Shasta Abbey Press, Mt. Shasta, CA 4th Edition, 1999, p.172.