Plans and details for the day rose up in a conspicuous flurry. Concern for one, and then another, and soon a third fought for preferential attention. My curious mind had it all figured out and gravitated toward making a mental list of these absorbing projects. That is, until I remembered I was attempting to meditate. So I gently let the competing urges drift from consciousness and resumed my subtle poise. Not long after, however, my quietness was disturbed by another barrage of compelling scenarios. Upon realizing the new intrusion, I cajoled them aside with minor irritation and re-centered my awareness on the morning's prayerful query, "What is this?" Perhaps I was literally asking for trouble, for again I was derailed on a meandering train of separating distraction. More and different questions wandered in and out of my brain, and in consternation I wondered when it would stop - the meditation, that is - so I could actively pursue these seductive ruminations.
I securely blamed my agitation on Daylight Savings Time. If it wasn't so dark out, so early in the morning, so cold in this room, I considered, then I wouldn't be experiencing this frustrating dislocation of mind. But secretly I knew my troubles had nothing to do with external circumstances and fearing failure, I quickly shifted culpability toward inner capitulation. If this pain in my side would vanish, if my body weren't so sleepy, if this growling stomach could satisfy its hunger, then I could enjoy the serenity which I so dearly longed. I squarely removed myself from censure, justifying that as a seasoned practitioner, there must be a remote source to my disturbance. These simple afflictions were perpetrating undue havoc on my usual concentration.
Of course, maintaining focused concentration for five minutes, much less for 30, is truly a rarity (for me) and the point of meditation is not to become expert in emptying the brain of all thought, but to increase our attention, presence, and ultimately, compassion. Like meditation, life presents a constant intrigue of choices - we can follow blindly in temptation, ignore the pressing impulse, or skillfully identify what's happening and understand the possibilities in judicious discretion. Being in touch with our experience means that we don't have to compulsively act out of our typically unseen anger, fear, or judgement, but can broaden our ability to include and embrace anything that arises.
Recently I heard Sharon Salzberg relate a humorous story about a California program where children were taught to meditate. When one student was asked what he learned in his involvement, he declared, "Mindfulness is knowing not to hit someone in the mouth." By releasing his clutching mind from runaway temptation, he recognized the emotion, and diffused the distraction. He didn't ignore it, fight it, or run away from it, but instead resisted the evil and changed the relationship he had with his emotions and so discovered the grace of a merciful heart.
Just so with Jesus' post-baptismal trial in the wilderness. Courted three times by insidious temptations - power progressively derived from self (you can change stones into bread); a finite divinity (god will protect you from irresponsible action); and the masses (all shall worship you) - he remained steadfast because he was able to listen to the loving compassion deep within himself. Through meditation, Jesus took the time to clear his mind from the distractions which make the temptations infinitely alluring, thus verifying Oscar Wilde's delicious quip, "I can resist anything except temptation."
Similarly we can break out of the wilderness of self-centered conditioning by opening to the present moment, not struggling against what's happening, and cultivating compassion toward what we find there. If we battle against our reality, all we learn to do is fight, but if we embrace and acknowledge our circumstances, we can transform it into something good. Temptation will always be at our side, yet only through compassion can we attempt to overcome it.
pia
No comments:
Post a Comment