Two Fat Women

With girlfriend, in the train, I got  approached by two fat women:

They wanted to sit with us. Discouraged by the lack of space, they decided to walk away. Soon after, a man came to offer some food. Mini quiches and things, neatly arranged in a square white box. Not being hungry, I suggested, maybe he could give them to the fat women instead?

Last night's dream left me wondering. What was up with the two fat women? Something inside was getting stirred up. 

Sitting, I was met with great restlessness:

Resting place, impossible to find;

even counting breaths won't do,

neither do opening the eyes.

Body, not happy,

indulged with a few stretches,

still yearns for more action.

iPhone shows 15 minutes left,

and 10 emails waiting.

Torture, resumed.

Just staying in meditation seat

is only remaining card 

in mindfulness game

A look at timer, once more:

one minute and forty six seconds left.

Back to being with restlessness.

Who is in charge?

I turned to Bikkhu Bodhi for some help:

. . . a young god named Subrahma appears before the Awakened One and explains the problem weighing on his heart:

"Always anxious is this mind,

The mind is always agitated,

About problems present and future;

Please tell me the release from fear."

. . .  When Subrahma came to the Buddha with his urgent plea for help, he was not seeking a prescription of Prozacs that would tide him through his next round of business deals and his dalliance with celestial nymphs. He wanted nothing less than total release from fear, and thus the Buddha did not have to pull any punches with his answer. In four piquant lines he told Subrahma the only effective way to heal his inner wound, to heal it with no danger of relapse:

"Not apart from awakening and austerity,

Not apart from sense restraint,

Not apart from relinquishing all,

Do I see any safety for living beings."

. . . This relinquishment of clinging cannot come about through the forcible rejection of what we love and cherish. It arises from wisdom, from insight, from awakening, from breaking through the deep dark sleep of ignorance. The sovereign remedy is to see that right now, at this very moment, there is nothing we can truly claim as ours, for in reality "All this is empty of self and of what belongs to self." Form, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness: all are to he given up by seeing them as they really are, as "not mine, not I, not my self." To see the truth that all conditioned things are impermanent, disintegrating, and bound to perish, is to turn away from clinging, to relinquish all. And to relinquish all is to find ourselves, not barren and empty-handed, but rich with the wealth of the noble ones. For one without clinging, there is no fear, no tremor or agitation, no dark winds of anxiety. The one without clinging is akutobhaya, one who faces no danger from any quarter. Though dwelling in the midst of aging, sickness, and death, he has reached what lies beyond aging, sickness, and death. Though the leaves fall and world systems shimmer, he sees security everywhere.

So many clingings, most of them unconscious still, waiting to be released with the light of mindfulness. I understand now my dream about the two fat women. Rather than pushing them away, I need to invite them for tea instead. To find out what drives their (my) insatiable hunger, and to understand their (my) suffering.

Practice First, Study Second

Being zealous student that I am, I approached Gil, and told him I wanted to start studying original teachings from the Budha. No more feel good readings from contemporary teachers . . . Better go straight to the source. Gil suggested that I start with In the Buddha's Words, a book by Bhikkhu Bodhi. Another option would be to follow the syllabus from Sati Center Sutta Study Class, Studying the Words of the Buddha, along with two recommended books: The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, by Bhikkhu Bodhi, and Handful of Leaves, by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. Gil also advised me to not overdo it, two pages at the most each day, and to not get hung up on parts I don't understand.

Later, that same night, I had vivid dream:

I am participating in an experiment, in the countryside. First, I watch planes, as they drop seeds on vast areas of freshly plowed land. Later, land has turned into huge field of wild flowers. I marvel at the beauty of it all, and try to catch side view of undulating surface, from the road where I stand. I especially love the effect of the light playing through the rich yellow colors. Prad gives me a modest bouquet of yellow poppies he just picked from the field. All of a sudden, I remember I am supposed to do some research, involving two variables. I get preoccupied with who to submit research to? My old professor just left. I start looking for his replacement.

Danger of corrupting beauty of practice with academic striving. Study is a loaded word for overachiever that I am. I thought of Ajahn Chah, in Food for the Heart:

When people do a lot of study, their minds are full of words, they get high on the books and forget themselves. They get lost in externals. Now this is so only for those who don't have wisdom, who are unrestrained and don't have steady sati. For these people studying can be a cause for decline. When such people are engaged in study they don't do any sitting or walking meditation and become less and less restrained. Their minds become more and more distracted. Aimless chatter, lack of restraint and socializing become the order of the day. This is the cause for the decline of the practice. It's not because of the study in itself, but because certain people don't make the effort, they forget themselves. Actually the scriptures are pointers along the path of practice. If we really understand the practice, then reading or studying are both further aspects of meditation. But if we study and then forget ourselves it gives rise to a lot of talking and fruitless activity.

Hearing Gil and Ajahn Chah's wise words, loud and clear. Practice, practice. Study only as a way to support practice, not a distraction from it.