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Venerable Ajahn Medhanandi -
Come from the Shadows
“The
poison of ignorance is spread through desire, passion and ill-will. One
who abandons
the arrow of craving and expels the poison of ignorance is one rightly
intent on Nibbana.”
majjhima nikaya, 105
What do we hope to achieve by protesting against war and injustice? Can
we ever think of fighting the forces of greed, hatred, and delusion ‘out
there’ when they are so much inside of us? We need not wait until we are
perfectly at peace with ourselves before we join in vigils or rallies
and march for peace in the world: they are not mutually exclusive.
Still, it is vital that we find ways to disarm ourselves in order to
live more peacefully.
Inner peace depends on harmlessness in daily life, integrating a set of
ethical principles that guide all our actions and speech – even when we
think no one is watching or listening. We are responsible for any pain
that we cause intentionally.
Sharpening moral vigilance, we nurture the interior work of a spiritual
disciple and focus on issues that give insight into our emotional
states. What are we struggling with? Are we still holding onto old
grudges and resentments?
Being unaware of our destructive emotions does not render them any less
harmful. It is exactly when we care for the mind and learn how to calm
the forces disturbing us that we can ever hope for peace. These
blessings will then permeate our relationships and the ways we respond
to life.
Inner turmoil and negativity are by-products of our reactions to the
worldly assaults on our six senses. Pierced by the arrow of craving and
poisoned by ignorance, we stand defenceless against Mara’s band of
rogues that tempt us and crowd our thoughts in their many guises.
Beguiled and believing in their promises, we fall in line.
Our chronic clinging to and grasping after the delights of the material
world – thinking they will make us happy – perpetuate lifetimes of
conditioning. Whenever we are stressed or overtaken by anxiety,
bitterness, loneliness, grief, or guilt, we automatically look for an
escape through some form of gratification: we reach for the remote
control, grab a snack, or call someone so that we can talk – and hear
ourselves.
We may think that we are in charge but all the while, balancing on the
precipice of expectation, we either rush towards what we want or away
from what we hope to avoid. We dread waking up. And behind a facade of
contentment, we keep frenetically busy. Then how will we find time to
stop?
More to the point, do we really want to stop? No, because then we may
have to deal with what is difficult and painful. For this whirlwind of
activity numbs us to what is real. We’re not shifting around just to
find a comfortable posture or the right set of conditions, but as long
as we keep moving, nothing will touch us, neither anger nor grief nor
the phantom gnawing of a subconscious angst.
Preferring to ignore our suffering and remain oblivious to its cause, we
apply snake oil and become addicted to the latest therapies, new-age
gimmicks, pills, even re-treats, in futile attempts to gain perfect
health and mental composure. These are fine to some degree. But even
meditation techniques – wrongly applied – are little more than placebos
that temporarily relieve without ministering to the illness itself.
Intuitively, we realise that if we carry on in this way, we are just
like robots. We may be busy rushing from one ‘important’ activity to
another, but as long as we are not present in our bodies and minds,
consciously aware of what we are experiencing, can we authentically
connect to what we feel?
Those of us who become estranged from our innermost feelings fool
ourselves into believing that we are detached when all we have done is
learn to cope. And the more unskilful the ways of coping we adopt, the
worse our condition becomes – until the mind gives up, or wakes up.
From the marrow of our own pain and stress – disappointment or anger at
ourselves or our friends, loved ones, colleagues, our jobs, our bodies,
our lives – an intensifying cry of urgency, samvega, betrays our
desperation. This may be the first glimmering of waking up to our
vulnerability and the immanent danger we are in.
Such awareness marks the transition to healing with the gift of
intuitive insight that flourishes in the mind’s stillness. It is
sometimes revealed when we stroll quietly in a park and feel a sense of
joy and calm. Unexpectedly, the emotional tumult and endless thoughts
that spin us around on the ferris wheel of samsara – the desires,
craving and restlessness, the opinions we have about ourselves and
others – fall silent.
For a moment, we are not thinking. The incessant chatter of the mind
stops and we are left listening to the sounds of the world or witnessing
the tremulous light of dawn with clarity and wonder. How long since we
could hear or see so mindfully is a telling indicator of how fragmented
we’ve been.
But now our involvement with thoughts and memories, whether cherished or
regrettable, dissolves. In these times of pure being, the vast space of
consciousness suddenly opens and we enter the silence of the heart.
It is a silence that protects the mind’s seclusion, cittaviveka.
We see, hear, feel, and know the world with curiosity, unsullied
attention and amazement – the way a mother might tenderly gaze at her
newborn child or a devotee approach Kuan Yin, Mother of Compassion, to
light the flame on her shrine.
Unconditional love cares for the moment. And so we sit with the interior
candle and give ourselves to it. All the resources that we need, all the
ingredients for illumination are already there – the wax, the wick, and
the match; mindfulness and discernment, our immediate impression of
life, and clear perception of it in consciousness.
Their coming together in the right way will ignite the flame of wisdom –
if we can be patient and forgiving enough to let each moment unfold
independently. There is no ‘one’ to interfere with, manage, dress, or
filter our experience according to what we want. Inside the temple of
the heart, we rest in the pure untainted energy of enlightenment that is
our natural inheritance. Learning to take refuge in it, we no longer
fall prey to the vagaries of worldly attachment.
Even as we experience this harmonious quality of the mind, discomfort
and disquiet are already propelling us towards the dazzling delights and
excitements of the world and away from what is true. But we are not to
be snared so easily this time. We have been trapped long enough in
samsara, poisoned by ignorance, not feeling nor daring to see what
we really need to feel and see.
Now we take up our spiritual scalpel to excise the poisoned arrow,
making good use of incisive mindfulness and its trusted allies –
measured effort, faith, and courage. True disciples of the moment, we
meditate through the seasons of the heart and feel our ‘stuff’ with
acceptance and compassion rather than judgment. We drop our old views of
who and what we are, cast in the shadow of our thoughts and attachments
to an illusory ‘self’ – the architect of our suffering.
The hooligans of the mind appear harmless enough on the surface. But
now, familiar with their tricks, we know we have to face them down and
sweep them out. This may seem a daunting prospect, but how else will we
free ourselves from their grip? Once given shelter, however tenuous,
they proliferate undetected. Anxiety breeds anxiety, greed provokes
greed.
They deceive and rob us of present-moment awareness no matter what we’re
doing, especially since we are prone to act from unguarded impulse and
seek distraction. Their sole mission is to prise us away from direct
knowledge of Truth through an endless range of panaceas and ‘needs’ that
have to be met immediately – trawling the malls, surfing the net, or
simply having a cup of tea.
Come back, just come back. Be present while drinking that ‘cuppa’ and
begin a new moment. Observe the mind’s restless thrashing – forever
toppling us into the past and spilling us into the future. By stopping
and returning to this moment, we create the right conditions to examine
and feel our distress or rage with honest openness and understanding.
That’s the balm we need for our festering wound.
So we tenderly approach our fear, despair, joy or excitement. And, as
they subside, we can truly be with ourselves. We shed layers of
distorted perception to witness the instability and inherent emptiness
of everything of this world. All the memories and projections, fantasies
and moods, judgments and obsessions that once overwhelmed us and our
habitual reactions to them – craving or resisting – now appear as
relentless currents of impermanent phenomena arising and ceasing. At
last, we taste the peace of pure knowing.
But even while we savour that moment, it is already fading and
disappointment lurks on the horizon. What must we do if we are not to be
caught again? Beware of the blaming or guilt-laden thoughts in the mind,
the aimless conjecture, or negativity. They will never free us for they
are the bars of our self-made prison that keep us from the source of a
lasting wisdom and happiness.
Evict those hooligans – not with hostility or impatience but firmly. Let
them all go without wanting or demanding that they be other than they
are. As we free ourselves from the spectre of their charade, they
collapse and no longer influence how we feel or what we do. We are able
to enter the unexplored caverns of the heart. But that can be
unsettling. We would rather die in the ruins of our fear than brave the
refining fire of Truth.
When I left the monastery to practise on my own, I foolishly thought
that I would be able to overcome every conceivable obstacle. Resolved to
live according to my Rule even after giving up the protection of
established community, I naively trusted that faith in the Triple Gem
and my practice alone would sustain me.
In effect, I walked away from a guarantee of my basic requisites. And
though my faith and resolve remained intact, I was a stranger to the
dimensions of anxiety this would produce. Just as when I was first
inspired to leave lay life and become a nun, I could not gauge the
height of the mountain I had set out to scale nor the sacrifice that
would be required at every stage.
It's not as if we ordain and renounce and that's the end of it. Every
day is a letting go that we can scarcely imagine or predict before its
time. Once outside the monastery gates, I was confronted with a
helplessness and insecurity I had not encountered before – not knowing
where I would live or how I would be fed.
The unremitting stress of surviving without an assured system of support
whittled away my confidence. It was no good wanting things to be
different. The only way through was to sit with and face the situation,
encourage myself, and discard the debris of the mind’s tantrums day by
day.
Viktor Frankl wrote, "What is to give light must endure burning." We
want to give light but we're afraid to suffer, not realising that our
very freedom lies in penetrating to the middle of that suffering – and
knowing its nature. But the poison arrow doesn’t simply vanish, nor does
the wound heal by marvelling at it, “O what a grievous injury, what a
spectacular wound!"
We can't light the candle of discernment on the altar of life until we
burn through to clear insight of the way things are. Rather than spend
our energy in denial, resisting change, or getting lost in self-doubt
and pity – unwilling to trust or accept what is real – we must care for
ourselves and tend to our dukkha. Letting faith cradle the heart,
we can grow silent and strong enough to hold pain of impossible depth –
and remain unshaken.
Our commitment to this spiritual excavation delivers us from the poison
arrow. But we have to be both diligent and thorough, probing every facet
of our experience and shining the light of Dhamma on all areas of our
life. Our goals, lifestyle, fundamental values, profession, and even
friendships come under scrutiny.
With the help of these insights, we move towards restoring ourselves to
wholeness – reconciling with a family member or making amends for harm
we have caused. Above all, we bring about life-altering changes that
will align us with core values which we resolve not to compromise. The
outcome is never sure but if we strive for Truth and come from the
shadows, we will not live in darkness.
What we do know from the cramped tightness held in the heart is how much
armour we are carrying. It is not the armour of forbearance but an
impenetrable shield that we have used to fend off hurts too terrible to
deal with or remember.
Unconsciously, this defendedness feeds an inner violence – a fire of
annihilation rather than illumination. But we have discovered the way to
safety, exchanging the intoxications and exotic distractions of worldly
life for a simple, humble diet of clear pure presence and patient
endurance.
As long as we are selfish and complacent, our life is cheapened and we
continue to circle in the realms of existence, slaves to ignorance,
cowardice, and mediocrity. But lighting the candle of discernment, we
reveal the heart’s natural radiance, and are no longer ransomed to the
desires and neurotic thoughts that prey on us.
The fruit of our practice is just this: an invisible ripening and a
gradual unfurling as we wake up and rub the dust of lifetimes from our
eyes. Even when it seems as if nothing is happening – stay with it. Live
in joy and ease, free from fear, free from danger.
Following the way of the Buddhas, walk out of the ghetto of illusion and
take refuge in wisdom. Know the diamond purity of the heart – neither
through showmanship nor asceticism – but in silent witness to, and
awareness of, eternal Truth – in the flame of no flame, in the cooling
of the last ember.
This is right refuge, this is freedom.
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