Impermanence is a Practice, Not an Abstract Principle
by Caitríona Reed

In Buddhist teaching impermanence (anicca) is one of the three universal characteristics, sometimes referred to as the Three Marks of Existence, along with no-self (anata) and suffering (dukkha).

It is important to remember that the Buddha emphasized practical tools for change, and steered away from metaphysics and theoretical speculation. “I teach one thing.” he said, “suffering and freedom from suffering.” In addition, he recommended that we question and test received beliefs and teachings-including the ones that came from him.

In the West, however, we are not used to challenging beliefs, especially in a religious context. Despite many signs to the contrary, we have a deeply conformist tendency. Challenging authority is still associated with heresy. So teachings that are intended as practical instructions become inadvertently turned into fixed principles.

This distinction may seem subtle, but it is an important one. It is not hard to understand that everything does indeed change, and that everything is impermanent. But when you turn Impermanence into a fixed principle you limit your ability to actually assess your experience of impermanence, and you miss some important distinctions.

Impermanence might be more usefully understood as a process. Turning impermanence into a principle makes it into a thing, an unquestioned abstraction removed from scrutiny or actual experience.

For example, within the cycles of history, or within the cycles of your own life-journey, some events are fleeting phenomena, while others may be relatively consistent components of repeating patterns.

Another example is in the pervasive notions that we hold, collectively or individually, about such things as race, gender, sex, class, and money. We may have certain inherited points of view, and we may have perspectives that we have become so identified with over time that we can’t imagine challenging them.

Notions are continually changing, to be sure, and in many ways. Yet it may be useful to look at how we hold onto certain attitudes, prejudices, and points of view. It is also useful to know the difference between the fleeting sort of change, and the kind that is cyclic.

There’s a relativity to this too. Everything changes, yes. But what changes for a mountain or a forest may seem very fixed from the perspective of an ant or a human-being. What seems endless to a three year old may be a momentary instant to their parents.

It is true that at the core, beyond objective and subjective, there are no distinctions to be made-no gender,no race, no class, no otherness. And yet, we live in a world of complex distinctions. If we are to navigate with skill, it serves us to differentiate between what changes all too fast, what lingers, what might change but does not, and what we can rely on to be consistent.

Caitríona Reed is a Dharma Teacher and Group Facilitator who has led retreats and workshops in Buddhism, Deep Ecology, and Social Responsibility in the U.S. and Europe since 1981.

Monday Meditation, 7 – 8:30 p.m,.every Monday night in November. Meditation, chanting, and dharma talk/discussion. Newcomers should arrive at 6:45 for orientation.

Saturday Study Group, November 14 and 28, 10 – 11:30 a.m. Ongoing study of the Dhammapada. This is an open group and newcomers are always welcome. Contact Rana for more information: rana_mukherji@yahoo.com

Wednesday “Just sit” Nights, 6:30 – 7:30 p.m. November 11. (No meeting on November 25, the day before Thanksgiving.) Meditation practice, followed by a short chant and q&a period. All are welcome. Please arrive 15 minutes early for your first practice with us.

There is no cost to attend any of our meetings, but donations are appreciated to help us cover the cost of rent and associated expenses. Visit our website for more informaton and our practice location.

We just completed our fall meditation retreat at Penuel Ridge, and our focus on impermanence couldn’t have been more evident in nature over the weekend. It went from sunny and warm, to overcast, to heavy rains and cold, then back to perfectly clear and crisp on Sunday morning. We even enjoyed an incredible rushing waterfall after the rains. On Halloween night, the almost full moon, perfectly circled by brightly lit clouds, was truly a sight to see against the backdrop of the rural Tennessee ridges.

We were honored to have participants join us from Chicago and San Diego. Their journey to Nashville was touch and go but they finally made it to the retreat site late Thursday night with the help from another retreat participant who patiently waited at the airport for a flight that was three hours late. We had people of all levels of meditation experience, from brand new to decades of sitting practice. Everyone gave it their all, which was especially evident by the strength of the group meditation practice on Sunday morning. Many thanks to everyone who participated and supported this fulfilling retreat.

On Saturday, November 14, One Dharma will present guest speaker Mike Snider, from 1-3 p.m. at 12 South Dharma Center.

Snider, a talented Grand Ole Opry member, describes himself as “an ol’ country boy who was starving to know God and found that God was not a him or her or it…and loves to share with people how simple, available and immediate God (or your true nature) really is.”

Mike has been asked to teach by Adyashanti, and is highly recommended by author Joan Tollifson (Awake In The Heartland). This will be a refreshingly different perspective on nondualism and awareness.

Format: satsang followed by Q&A
Cost: No set fee, but donations of any amount are appreciated

Meditation and the Self
by Shinzen Young

Everyone has a sense of self. Upon careful investigation we discover that this sense of self consists of ideas and body sensations which arise and fade moment by moment. Such ideas and body sensations might be described as “self-referential” i.e. they are related to producing a sense of self. Most spiritual traditions encourage some kind of letting go of self or ego. Buddhism in particular puts great emphasis on realizing “no self.”

Personally, I like to view this as a process of clarifying the sense of self. This clarification proceeds in two stages, corresponding to the two meanings of the English word “clarify.” Something becomes clear when it goes from being nebulous to being distinct. But also, something becomes clear when it goes from being opaque to being transparent.
Through consistent practice we develop the skill of mindfulness which allows us to detect with great clarity the often nebulous self-referential ideas and body sensations as they arise in each act of perception. We also develop equanimity so that we can allow these ideas and body sensations to expand and contract without suppression, interference or clinging. Eventually contact with the sense of self becomes so continuous that there is no time left to congeal or fixate it. The self then becomes clarified in the sense that it is no longer experienced as an opaque, rigid, ever-present entity, but rather as a transparent, elastic, vibratory activity. It loses its “thingness.” We realize that it is a verb not a noun, a wave not a particle.

This elastic sense of self can freely contract down to zero. We then realize a state of true peace and oneness with all things. It can also expand as a vibrant, zestful, deeply human yet non-substantial activity of individual personality. The former is no self in the sense of zero self, and the latter is no self in the sense of no fixated thing called a self.
According to this paradigm, in enlightenment the unconsciousness and fixation associated with those ideas and body sensations which produce a sense of self get eliminated. The sense of self becomes a home rather than a prison. You can come and go freely.

But, you may ask, “Who becomes free? What observes the ideas and body sensations?” Such questions arise from two sources. One is perceptual and the other linguistic. These two are constantly reinforcing each other, resulting in deep and pervasive confusion. Ordinarily, each act of perception is accompanied by a new burst of self-referential ideas and body sensations. Because for most people those ideas and body sensations are both indistinct and congealed, they produce a sense of “thing” called doer or perceiver. This perception of doer or perceiver as entity becomes ensconced in the grammatical structure of human speech as substantive pronouns (I, you, who). Thus the perception of “self as thing” is reinforced with almost every utterance we speak.

It is for this reason that questions like, “What does the observing?” or “Who gets enlightened?” seem so natural and yet are so difficult to answer. Grammatically, interrogative pronouns (who, what) must be answered with substantive nouns (this, that). In point of fact no thing meditates or gets wisdom. Rather, the skills of mindfulness and equanimity become so strong and habitual that they “seep around the edges” and soak into the ideas and body sensations that are producing the sense of an “I” practicing meditation.

The Path of Mindfulness is the Path of No Preferences
by Ajahn Sumedho

The path of mindfulness is the path of no preferences. When we prefer one thing to another, then we concentrate on it: ‘I prefer peace to chaos.’ So, then, in order to have peace, what do we do? We have to go to some place where there is no confusion, become a hermit, go up to the Orkneys, find a cave. I found a super cave once off the coast of Thailand. It was on a beautiful little island in the Gulf of Siam. And it was my sixth year as a monk. All these Westerners were coming to Wat Pah Pong-Western monks. And they were causing me a lot of sorrow and despair. I thought: ‘I don’t want to teach these people; they’re too much of a problem; they’re too demanding; I want to get as far away from Western monks as possible.’

The previous year I had spent a Rains Retreat with five others. Oh, what a miserable Rains Retreat that was! I thought: ‘I’m not going to put up with that! I didn’t come here to do that; I came here to have peace.’ So I made some excuse to go to Bangkok and from there I found this island. I thought it was perfect. They had caves on the island and little huts on the beaches. It was the perfect set-up for a monk. One could go and get one of those huts and live in it. And then go on alms-round in the village. The village people were all very friendly, especially to Western monks because to be a Western monk was very unusual. We could depend on having all the food we could possibly eat, and more. It was not a place that was easy to get to, being out in the Gulf of Thailand, and I thought: ‘Oh, they’ll never find me out here, those Western monks; they’ll not find me here.’ And then I found a cave, one with a Jongram, and it was beautiful. It had an inner chamber that was completely dark and no sounds could penetrate. I crawled in through a hole and inside there was nothing. I could neither see nor hear anything. So it was ideal for sensory deprivation: ‘Oh, this is exactly what I’ve been looking for; I can practise all these high Jhanic states. I can go in this cave and just practise for hours on end with no kind of sense stimulation.’ I really wanted to see what would happen. But there was this old monk living in this cave who was not sure whether he was going to stay. Anyway, he said I could have the grass hut on the top of the hill. I went up there and looked, and down below was the sea. I thought, ‘Oh, this is also nice because now I can concentrate on the sea, which is tranquillising.’

There was a Thai monk on the island who was a very good friend of mine and he said: ‘Well, if they find you here, there’s an island about fifteen miles further out-they’ll never find you there. There’s a little hut there, and a little village; the people in the village would love to take care of a monk.’ So I was thinking: ‘You know, possibly after the Rains Retreat, I will go out to that further island.’

I really was determined to escape. I wanted peace and I found the Western monks very confusing. They would always ask lots of questions and were so demanding. So I was all set to spend the Rains Retreat in this idyllic situation. And then-this foot! My right foot became severely infected and they had to take me off the island into the local hospital on the mainland. I was very ill. They would not let me go back to the island and I had to spend the Rains Retreat in a monastery near the town. Sorrow, despair and resentment arose towards this foot-all because I was attached to tranquillity. I wanted to escape the confusion of the world; I really longed to lock myself in a tomb where my senses would not be stimulated, where no demands would be made on me, where I would be left alone, incognito, invisible. But after that I contemplated my attitude; I contemplated my greed for peace. And I did not seek tranquillity any more.

An extract from
Teachings of a Buddhist Monk by Ajahn Sumedho

Monday Practice Nights, Each Monday, 7 – 8:30 p.m.

Saturday Study Group, October 24, 10 – 11:30 a.m.
Ongoing study of the Dhammapada. Everyone is welcome to attend. Contact Rana Mukherji for more information.

Wednesday “Just Sit” Night, October 28, 6:30 – 7:30 p.m.
Please note that our Wednesday night sit has replaced our Thursday night sitting. The format is the same.

Halloween Retreat, October 29 – November 1. Deposits are due by October 23. More information here.

There is no cost to attend any of our meetings, but your donations are appreciated as they allow us to cover the cost of rent and associated expenses.

Before Enlightenment, After Enlightenment
Dharma Talk by Geoffrey Shugen Arnold, Sensei

Koan:
A monastic asked Zhimen, “How is it when the lotus flower has not yet emerged from the water?”
Zhimen said, “A lotus flower.”
The monastic said, “What about after it has emerged from the water?”
Zhimen said, “Lotus leaves.”

In Buddhism, and particularly in Zen, the lotus flower is a symbol for enlightenment. Its roots are sunken in silt and debris, yet it grows out of that debris through the water and emerges into the bright sunlight as a beautiful, perfect, fragrant flower. It does not grow out of a pure, rarefied atmosphere, but from decayed matter, from the very stuff of our lives. So, the monastic is really asking Zhimen: how is it before and after enlightenment? This question is central to the buddhadharma, and is something every student wants to know.

Buddha realized and taught that each and every one of us possesses the buddha nature symbolized by this lotus flower. In fact, this teaching is the basis of the 2500-year-old tradition of Buddhism, as well as the truth of the universe, the freedom that comes from being in accord with reality. Buddha nature is unhindered, because in it there are no obstructions; it is identical with wisdom. Identical with all things, it is identical with compassion, the great heart of Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva. That’s our nature, and all of us possess it. It’s not something that can be found somewhere else. But, that’s not the end of the story, because without practice our lives don’t reveal that perfection.

Even though we possess that perfect flower, it hasn’t emerged yet. That’s what we call delusion-not knowing what’s real, believing in a separate independent self, believing all of the perceptions that the discriminating mind creates as if they were ultimate truth. What is it before enlightenment, then? Zhimen says, “Lotus flower.” We speak of Buddhism as a path or journey, which implies having to move from one place to another. In this case, it means moving from a place of struggle, self-centeredness or doubt, to another, better place: a place of wisdom and compassion, of selflessness, of no doubt. But then we have to ask ourselves, where is that place? And how do I get there?

It would seem obvious that the answer would be through practice, awareness and gaining insight. We think we will proceed down this spiritual path, and one day-one glorious day-we’ll arrive at that place where we can look with vast, unhindered vision and never have another problem. This picture makes perfect sense to us because that’s the way our minds work, that’s the way we think the world works. We can get enlightened and live in a kind of Buddhist heaven, forever free of pain and suffering.

Sometimes people come to daisan and they tell me that their practice is seeking peace. I ask them, “How do you do that?” And usually they say, “I practice being peaceful.” But what is peace? Where is it? And how do you practice it when you’re angry? In other words, what is the idea that you’re practicing and is it really going to help you?

The Buddha himself spoke of marga, the path. Buddhist teachers throughout history have talked about the journey in terms of practice, realization and actualization. Obviously there is a path, and it works; peoples’ lives actually change, something happens.

How is it when the lotus flower has not yet emerged-when we have not yet realized buddha nature? Zhimen says, “A lotus flower.” What does that mean? Before it’s emerged, there is a lotus flower-fully present, fully formed, complete. In order to manifest it, we have to slog our way through the entanglements, through our attachments, through all of the things that are preventing the flower from emerging. And in so doing, it emerges. That’s the moment of insight, that’s when we see into our nature. Then that perfection is no longer an idea, but something we know to be true. In that moment, we realize that the flower is fully formed, fully present, radiant, and always has been. We realize that it was never submerged to begin with. At the end of a long journey, we realize we haven’t taken a step. But still the question remains, if that is true, then why don’t we experience our lives as that perfect flower from the beginning?

The power of our delusion lies in the fact that we believe it has nothing to do with the flower at all. Buddha nature is always present. But so are delusion and all the things that bind us. That’s why practice has to occur in the present. Realization occurs in the present. There is nothing else.

This week we will meet on both Monday and Wednesday nights, the 12th and 14th. Monday practice begins at 7 p.m. and our Wednesday practice begins at 6:30. p.m. If you’re new, please arrive 15 minutes early for orientation and instruction.

Generosity of the Heart
excerpted from One Dharma by Joseph Goldstein

Not only is lovingkindness an excellent example of how the path of One Dharma unites the different schools of Buddhism, it is also a key to the path itself. In this practice we can reclaim the potential for kindness – to ourselves and those around us.

This special quality of lovingkindness is the generosity and openness of heart that simply wishes all beings to be happy. Metta doesn’t seek self-benefit; it is not offered with the expectation of getting something back. And because it’s not dependent on external conditions, on people being or behaving in a certain way, it is not easily disappointed. As metta grows stronger, we feel more open to others, more open to ourselves, with benevolence and good humor. The poet W.H. Auden expressed it well: “Love your crooked neighbor with all your crooked heart.”

Sometimes as we practice sending feelings of lovingkindness to others and ourselves, we may feel we are not loving enough. Or we expect metta to be an ecstatic feeling that will carry us away on waves of bliss, only to then feel discouraged when we don’t feel particularly ecstatic. But lovingkindness can be better understood as the simple quality of friendly responsiveness to the people around us. More helpful translations of metta might be “good will” or a “kind heart.” It is a basic openness of heart that allows the world in. When we look at ourselves and our actions in this way, we may find ourselves more loving than we think.

The Buddha also emphasized the development of gratitude, one of the most beautiful and rare qualities in the world. We so easily take for granted – or forget – the kindness people show us. Yet when we feel true gratitude, whether toward particular people or toward life, metta will flow from us naturally. When we connect with another person through gratitude, the barriers that separate begin to melt. Without “us” and “them” we are left simply in the openness of the situation, living in concord, just as those park-dwelling monks did in the time of Buddha.

Learning to live in a space of friendliness and love requires patience and constancy. Very often we fall back into familiar patterns of annoyance, irritation, anger and ill will. But these states can also be a bell chime of mindfulness for us, reminds us to investigate rather than drown in them. Thomas Merton knew that going through difficult times is an essential part of the spiritual journey. He wrote, “Prayer and love are learned in the hour when prayer becomes impossible and the heart has turned to stone.”