I have been back from retreat for a few days. It always feels like a profound realization to do this and nearly impossible to say why. What do we do on retreat? We sit, we walk, we work, we eat, we sleep, we listen to instruction from a teacher, all while being as thoroughly conscious of what we are doing as we possibly can. So what?
It is immeasurably valuable to recognize the distinction between the small mind (mind, ego) and the larger mind (consciousness, awareness). The small mind plans and executes, is essential for day-to-day tasks. But the small mind has certain inherent limitations. It has little judgement and no wisdom. It has an unshakable belief in the proposition that getting things done is the essence of what it is to be a successful human being. In fact, it believes that the road to happiness, the only road to happiness, is in the doing of things, the achieving of goals, the reaching for and getting more, always more.
Now, one can see how practically necessary this small mind is. I could not write this blog, rent a car, brush my teeth, or lock the door without it. One of my former teachers tells of when he was a young monk and came back from Burma to the U.S. He was sitting in an airport, feeling all holy and above it all in his saffron robes. He went into a bathroom, used it, came back out and realized he had been in the women's restroom. It is wonderful to be immersed in consciousness, but the small mind is necessary to keep us from wandering away.
The larger consciousness contains and envelopes the small mind. It is expansive, vast, infinite. The space of the larger mind can absorb all the world has to offer without feeling cramped or crowded. It is ultimately accepting and benign. It is not spaciness or lack of awareness (despite the story above) but an acute realization of the underlying nature of things.
Here's the problem, though, and the crux of why retreat is so essential: the small mind believes it is in charge and that consciousness is superfluous, a luxury to be indulged after the to-do list is completed. This feeds into the Judeo-Christian sensibility in which many of us were raised ("finish your chores and you can have some dessert"). I would wager that nearly all persons in the West, and an overwhelming majority elsewhere, live with the belief that the small mind is all there is. Oh, we might touch something deeper from time to time: looking into the eyes of a newborn, standing by the sea, on top of a mountain, in true intimacy with another being, but there is an underlying assumption that this is extra and extraneous, not what life is really about.
Here's a question though: if happiness is just around the corner, why do we keep turning corners to find that it is just around the corner? This is dream logic, chasing the uncatchable unicorn but never giving up on the idea that it can be caught. Isn't it time we woke up?
This is what retreat can demonstrate to us. When we can put down the lists and books and vapid speaking and smart phones and computers for a while we can clearly see that what creates all of the suffering in our lives is the fact that the small self is constantly yearning for the next thing to make it happy or fulfilled. It has an opinion on everything and everyone, is full of judgement and anger. It is constantly moving on to the next desire, even while still doing something else.
Remember that the Buddha said, "I have come to teach suffering and the end of suffering". He did not say, "I have come to teach suffering, the end of suffering, and how to be comfortable and charming and well-liked and successful". Here's the real truth: we will never, never, never, never make the small mind happy. It believes that after that ice cream cone it will finally be happy forever and has convinced us of this over and over, but it never is. Which is not to say there is anything wrong with ice cream, but it isn't really the answer to anything. Life is not about doing things, achieving things, or getting things. It is about opening your heart.
One of the qualities inherent to the small mind is extreme shortsightedness. Oh, yes, it plans for the future, but only with that extremely limited point of view which thinks that these plans will finally buy it the happiness it craves. Putting it in charge of our overall happiness is like putting a small child in charge of a nuclear power facility. The small mind does not have the perspective, experience, knowledge, or judgment to take on such a task. Eventually, inevitably, the meltdown will come.
A few things retreat is not: relaxing (it's hard work doing nothing), a time to figure things out (that's the small mind churning), social (noble silence includes avoiding eye contact as well as not speaking, writing, or reading—with some exceptions). It is fairly common for those who have never been on retreat to ask, "Don't you get bored?" Here is the truth of it, an insight that came to me on this retreat: only the small mind becomes bored. In fact, part of what we are doing with the repetitive tasks in a retreat—watching our breath, noting our steps while walking, being fully aware of what we are doing while eating—is giving the small mind a task that fully absorbs it so the larger mind has a change to emerge. In any case, though, the answer is, no, retreat is not boring. It is the most fascinating investigation one can do into what makes up this humanness with which we have been gifted.
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| Sitting meditation |
Now, one can see how practically necessary this small mind is. I could not write this blog, rent a car, brush my teeth, or lock the door without it. One of my former teachers tells of when he was a young monk and came back from Burma to the U.S. He was sitting in an airport, feeling all holy and above it all in his saffron robes. He went into a bathroom, used it, came back out and realized he had been in the women's restroom. It is wonderful to be immersed in consciousness, but the small mind is necessary to keep us from wandering away.
 |
| Eating meditation |
The larger consciousness contains and envelopes the small mind. It is expansive, vast, infinite. The space of the larger mind can absorb all the world has to offer without feeling cramped or crowded. It is ultimately accepting and benign. It is not spaciness or lack of awareness (despite the story above) but an acute realization of the underlying nature of things.
Here's the problem, though, and the crux of why retreat is so essential: the small mind believes it is in charge and that consciousness is superfluous, a luxury to be indulged after the to-do list is completed. This feeds into the Judeo-Christian sensibility in which many of us were raised ("finish your chores and you can have some dessert"). I would wager that nearly all persons in the West, and an overwhelming majority elsewhere, live with the belief that the small mind is all there is. Oh, we might touch something deeper from time to time: looking into the eyes of a newborn, standing by the sea, on top of a mountain, in true intimacy with another being, but there is an underlying assumption that this is extra and extraneous, not what life is really about.
Here's a question though: if happiness is just around the corner, why do we keep turning corners to find that it is just around the corner? This is dream logic, chasing the uncatchable unicorn but never giving up on the idea that it can be caught. Isn't it time we woke up?
 |
| Walking meditation |
This is what retreat can demonstrate to us. When we can put down the lists and books and vapid speaking and smart phones and computers for a while we can clearly see that what creates all of the suffering in our lives is the fact that the small self is constantly yearning for the next thing to make it happy or fulfilled. It has an opinion on everything and everyone, is full of judgement and anger. It is constantly moving on to the next desire, even while still doing something else.
Remember that the Buddha said, "I have come to teach suffering and the end of suffering". He did not say, "I have come to teach suffering, the end of suffering, and how to be comfortable and charming and well-liked and successful". Here's the real truth: we will never, never, never, never make the small mind happy. It believes that after that ice cream cone it will finally be happy forever and has convinced us of this over and over, but it never is. Which is not to say there is anything wrong with ice cream, but it isn't really the answer to anything. Life is not about doing things, achieving things, or getting things. It is about opening your heart.
One of the qualities inherent to the small mind is extreme shortsightedness. Oh, yes, it plans for the future, but only with that extremely limited point of view which thinks that these plans will finally buy it the happiness it craves. Putting it in charge of our overall happiness is like putting a small child in charge of a nuclear power facility. The small mind does not have the perspective, experience, knowledge, or judgment to take on such a task. Eventually, inevitably, the meltdown will come.
A few things retreat is not: relaxing (it's hard work doing nothing), a time to figure things out (that's the small mind churning), social (noble silence includes avoiding eye contact as well as not speaking, writing, or reading—with some exceptions). It is fairly common for those who have never been on retreat to ask, "Don't you get bored?" Here is the truth of it, an insight that came to me on this retreat: only the small mind becomes bored. In fact, part of what we are doing with the repetitive tasks in a retreat—watching our breath, noting our steps while walking, being fully aware of what we are doing while eating—is giving the small mind a task that fully absorbs it so the larger mind has a change to emerge. In any case, though, the answer is, no, retreat is not boring. It is the most fascinating investigation one can do into what makes up this humanness with which we have been gifted.
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