Archive | Reflections on Practice

In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok
you would never see him doing such a thing,
tossing the dry snow over a mountain
of his bare, round shoulder,
his hair tied in a knot,
a model of concentration.

Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word
for what he does, or does not do.

Even the season is wrong for him.
In all his manifestations, is it not warm or slightly humid?
Is this not implied by his serene expression,
that smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe?

But here we are, working our way down the driveway,
one shovelful at a time.
We toss the light powder into the clear air.
We feel the cold mist on our faces.
And with every heave we disappear
and become lost to each other
in these sudden clouds of our own making,
these fountain-bursts of snow.

This is so much better than a sermon in church,
I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.
This is the true religion, the religion of snow,
and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,
I say, but he is too busy to hear me.

He has thrown himself into shoveling snow
as if it were the purpose of existence,
as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway
you could back the car down easily
and drive off into the vanities of the world
with a broken heater fan and a song on the radio.

All morning long we work side by side,
me with my commentary
and he inside his generous pocket of silence,
until the hour is nearly noon
and the snow is piled high all around us;
then, I hear him speak.
After this, he asks,
can we go inside and play cards?

Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milk
and bring cups of hot chocolate to the table
while you shuffle the deck.
and our boots stand dripping by the door.

Aaah, says the Buddha, lifting his eyes
and leaning for a moment on his shovel
before he drives the thin blade again
deep into the glittering white snow.

Billy Collins, called “the most popular poet in America” by the New York Times, was Poet Laureate of the United States from 2001 to 2003. He recently retired from 50 yrs teaching at Lehman College of the City University of New York. This poem appeared in his 1998 book “Picnic, Lightning.”

“Utter only speech that neither torments oneself nor harms others.” (SN.8.5)

If we’re serious about liberation, meditation practice doesn’t end when we leave the cushion-it just gets more real. There are countless ways to bring these teachings to life. One of the most powerful (and frequently overlooked) vehicles for transformation is that of “Right Speech.” The Buddha spoke regularly of the power words have to heal or harm, as well as to play an active role in our awakening individually & collectively.

As social creatures, speech holds a crucial place in our lives. Many of our deepest joys & sorrows come from our relationships, where verbal communication can determine the quality of our connection. Internally, thinking & perception continually shapes experience. Externally, language has the potential to bridge the gap between us & connect our inner worlds. What’s more, from the Buddhist perspective, speech is one of the three doors of action by which we create kamma, intentional acts that affect our wellbeing & shape future habits.

The classical definition of Right Speech is clear enough: abstain from false, harsh, divisive & idle speech (SN 45.8). Yet to implement this requires careful attention not only to what we say, but to why we speak, as well as how & when we speak. Practicing with these guidelines shapes our mind for our welfare & steers our conversations towards more harmony & meaning.

The teachings on speech go far beyond this basic definition. At the core, Right Speech means using language in service of awakening. It is to use our words-internally & externally-to cultivate skillful qualities & reduce unskillful qualities of mind. How often do our conversations (& our thoughts) enhance healthy states like patience, generosity, kindness, truthfulness, simplicity? How often do they instead reinforce unhealthy habits or stimulate impulses that only entangle us further?

The more I study these ancient teachings on speech, the more I see them as a dynamic template meant to inform our lives. They provide guidance to orient our intentions & to navigate an increasingly complex world. Where they lack specific instruction on how to implement their wisdom, we can rely on more modern disciplines to fill in the gaps. (E.g., I’ve found great benefit in Nonviolent Communication as an adjunct).

When we take up this practice of Right Speech as a core part of the contemplative path, we gain a tremendous arena for training the mind, and create more opportunities to give voice to our deepest values. As we witness the extreme polarization in the world today, the absence of real dialogue in so many sectors of civil society, we need these tools more than ever.

Oren Jay Sofer teaches meditation & communication retreats & workshops nationally. A member of the Spirit Rock Teachers Council, he is a Certified Trainer of Nonviolent Communication & a Somatic Experiencing Practitioner for the healing of trauma. Oren also holds a degree in Comparative Religion from Columbia University & is the author of a new book, Say What You Mean:  A Mindful Approach to Nonviolent Communication.

Live happily,
free from hostility,
even among those who hate.

Live joyfully,
free from misery and affliction
even among those who are afflicted.

Live happily,
free from the trouble of busyness
even among those who are busy.

Live joyfully,
like those who have nothing
feeding on rapture
like the shining ones.

Winning gives birth to hostility.
Losing, one lies down in pain.
The calmed lie down in peace,
having set winning and losing aside.

There’s no fire like lust
no evil like hatred,
no pain like disharmony,
no happiness like the happiness of peace.

Greed, the primary sickness,
Delusion, the primary pain.
Knowing this truth, just as it is,
freedom, the primary joy.

Health, great good fortune,
Contentment, great wealth,
Trust, great kinship,
Freedom, the greatest happiness.

Look within,
taste the nourishment of seclusion,
of stillness and calm,
freed from fear and attachment,
refreshed with the sweet joy of the Way.

How joyful to see the Awakened,
always happiness
in the company of the wise.

Endless grief for those
who commune with a fool,
as traveling in company with an enemy.
Joyful is communion with the Awakened,
as with a gathering of kin.

Follow the Awakened, the shining ones,
the discerning, the learned,
dutiful, loving, and wise.
They know to work and forbear.
Follow them,
as the moon follows the path of the stars.

Saying by the Buddha on Joy-Happiness in the Dhammapada. This is from a composite of
various translations compiled by teacher Marcia Rose.

We have received an inestimable gift. To be alive in this beautiful, self-organizing universe—to participate in the dance of life with senses to perceive it, lungs that breathe it, organs that draw nourishment from it—is a wonder beyond words. It is an extraordinary privilege to be accorded a human life, with self-reflexive consciousness that brings awareness of our own actions and the ability to make choices. It lets us choose to take part in the healing of our world.

Gratitude for the gift of life is the primary wellspring of all religions, the hallmark of the mystic, the source of all true art. Yet we so easily take this gift for granted. That is why so many spiritual traditions begin with thanksgiving, to remind us that for all our woes and worries, our existence itself is an unearned benefaction, which we could never of ourselves create….

That our world is in crisis—to the point where survival of conscious life on Earth is in question—in no way diminishes the value of this gift; on the contrary. To us is granted the privilege of being on hand: to take part, if we choose, in the Great Turning to a just and sustainable society. We can let life work through us, enlisting all our strength, wisdom, and courage, so that life itself can continue.

There is so much to be done, and the time is so short. We can proceed, of course, out of grim and angry desperation. But the tasks proceed more easily and productively with a measure of thankfulness for life; it links us to our deeper powers and lets us rest in them. Many of us are braced, psychically and physically, against the signals of distress that continually barrage us in the news, on our streets, in our environment. As if to reduce their impact on us, we contract like a turtle into its shell. But we can choose to turn to the breath, the body, the senses—for they help us to relax and open to wider currents of knowing and feeling….

Thankfulness loosens the grip of the industrial growth society by contradicting its predominant message: that we are insufficient and inadequate… that we need more—more stuff, more money, more approval, more comfort, more entertainment. The dissatisfaction it breeds is profound. It infects people with a compulsion to acquire that delivers them into the cruel, humiliating bondage of debt. So gratitude is liberating. It is subversive. It helps us realize that we are sufficient, and that realization frees us.

The practice of the Dharma is learning how to live, and this is both hard and joyful work. Practice makes extraordinary demands of us. It requires that we take nothing for granted, that we accept nothing on faith alone. If we practice with diligence and honesty, then we must question everything about ourselves; we must challenge our most basic beliefs and convictions, even those we may have about the dharma itself…

When you put something to the test, really to the test, don’t you find that it challenges, that it stretches you, too? This has certainly been my experience. Some of these wonderful teachings are inspiring. It can be intellectually satisfying and emotionally nourishing just to hear them. But you can’t stop there. If you want to gain any real benefit from them, you have to let them stretch your own lived experience. For the dharma to become firsthand knowledge — to feel the “ouch” of it — you have to live intimately with it, hold it up to scrutiny, and let it hold you up to scrutiny. In the end, the ball is always thrown back to you: “Be a lamp unto yourself,” says the Buddha. In other words, you must ultimately find the way on your own, by putting your ideas of the truth to the test. Your questions light the way.

So what is the test of truth? The Buddha offers a simple formula: Test things in terms of cause and effect. Whatever is unskillful, leading to harm and ill, should be abandoned; whatever is skillful, leading to happiness and peace, should be pursued. Apply the test of skillfulness to all teachings in all your actions. Where is this teaching taking you? Is it moving you in a direction that is wise and kind? One quick test isn’t enough, you know. You have to keep at it, so that your sensitivity to the results of your actions grows more and more refined with practice. When you’ve done the hard work of asking these questions, then you can decide for yourself whether a teaching, or a teacher, is worth following. And at the same time, you’ve also taught yourself how to live — a learning that can bring with it joy and the energy to go even deeper.

Larry Rosenberg is founder & a guiding teacher at the Cambridge Insight Meditation Center in Cambridge, MA. He is also a senior teacher at the Insight Meditation Society and author of several books, including Breath by Breath: The Liberating Practice of Insight Meditation. You can view an extended version of this article & many other Dharma teachings at the website Access to Insight.