Cushion Report: Mind Like Honey

Waking up this morning, Day 4 of my little retreat, I notice an interesting blend of feelings inside. Something I've noticed before is a feeling of inner growth and deepening, like I'm a little bit older than when I started (and not just three days worth). That feeling's not too uncommon for me after a retreat. Sometimes it can seem like an entire lifetime passes in those few days of silence. And a lifetime of wisdom is available in those days as well. I'm not holding my breath for that feeling to last however - and wouldn't it be kind of *immature* of me if I did? he he.

I feel strangely defeated, while also refreshed and alive. Vibrant happy and awake, and also completely without hope. I would say humility and grace, although the word "humility" is overshooting it a bit. Like I said, it's an interesting blend this morning (I tried to capture the feeling in the photo to the left).

I set myself up with my last blog post, so I suppose I better have something to say about all that. As predicted, nothing went as planned. Wonderful. As I reflect on the experimental parameters, the techniques and procedures, and the overall hypothesis, I find that words aren't quite sufficient right now. In some respect, I practiced mindfulness as I set out to do, in the way that I described. But, in another respect, that seems to be only a small description of the big big picture. What I don't want to do here is be overly dramatic, though. For the most part, my days were really quite ordinary. I sat; I ate; I walked in the woods. And, I'm listening to the chanting of Anonymous 4 as I type right now, so I worry that the music might make me write in an even more dramatic tone.

What I can say is that there seems to be a very distinct shift occurring in my meditation practice. It's like a chameleon who changes to their environment, or like the way honey tastes different depending on the pollen which fed the bee. In fact, I really like that analogy right now. I think I'm experiencing the "mind like honey." (this sounds so "zen," so give me a second to get a little poetic) The mind like honey is the mind which recognizes the pollen which has given it flavor. Of course, there is a little "me" inside who would love to take credit for every flavor as though it were the master cook in a honey kitchen. But, no. Nature shapes nature. Or, at least, so it seems in this moment.

Anyway, during my six months at the California Vipassana Center, I was in a very tight container with strict rules and discipline, a schedule, a staff, a self-contained piece of land, and it was all very Buddhist. All that was allowed at the center was vipassana and the Buddhist scriptures and commentaries which supported the practice. Meditation had a more straightforward feel to it - "A" leads to "B" leads to "C." There was a path, a practice, and a goal. It was wonderful.

Once in India, meditation took on a new flavor. With the unavoidable influence of Hinduism and Indian culture in general, things took on a more mystical feel. While spending time with community, but also traveling alone on the road, there was a mixing, and an expansiveness. It was also wonderful.

Now, it seems something different is occurring here in Felton, CA. I'm not sure I can say what it is yet. In fact, I fear I'd be a bit presumptuous to even take a guess, but the influence of reliance on my own discipline, and well, just being on my own in so many ways is starting a new current within me. Of course, I have dharma talks on my computer, lots of books to read, and even lots of really great dharma brothers, sisters, and mentors to call or email if I come onto a stumbling block. But, when I come home to this little cabin, it's just me. I could walk away at anytime, and there's absolutely no rule that I can't. In fact, I can't say that I've taken on any rules or discipline in my meditation time here, but rather I've just set intentions and then gone with the flow.

So, I'm getting a little embarrassed now, writing all this, even though I haven't said that much. It seems the most tender place is inside oneself in the quiet times. I sometimes wonder why I write all this on my blog at all, and I wonder if other people wonder that too. Maybe it's best not to try to figure that one out.

The bottom line of what I'm trying to say is that I don't really have anything to say. This cushion report is just not going to be very report-ish.

It's like this: Life... to be conscious... to be a living, sentient being... composed of the same elements as the trees, the stones, the earth, the sky, the sun... to be this living creature in this strange and curious world... and then... to think!... to have this constant movement called "thought" throughout one's mind...

All of this comes together and there comes from it this word "meditation."

What is that? What is this meditation thing? Where'd it come from? I mean, which galaxy did it fall down from? How is it that consciousness decides to explore itself? And how is it that this human being has come to a place of such distortion from it's elements in the first place? How is it that the elements of life want to know themselves? And, then... quite spontaneously... they start to write about it. Pudgy little fingers strike a keyboard in a quiet room attempting to spell out the inexplicable bizarreness of being what can't possibly be but what unavoidably is.

Whew... weird. I'll just leave it at that.

All is well.