The Authentic Life (17 page)

A particularly interesting question to ask ourselves is, “What am I
truly
committed to?” It's especially important to see how many of our “Me's” are committed to “sleep”: the Me that believes its thoughts and judgments, the Me that is ruled by its emotions, the Me that can't stay present for more than few moments. The Dalai Lama had an interesting comment on the fact that we are committed to waking sleep. When asked what
surprises him most, he answered it was man. He said man sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present. As a result, he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die and then dies having never really lived.

It's important to understand that what we really want—what we're committed to—is defined precisely by what we actually do. For example, if we spend a lot of time mindlessly surfing the Web, that means we're committed to entertaining ourselves with diversions. If we expend a lot of our energy in anger or worry, it means we're committed to reinforcing those exact emotional patterns. We can say and believe that our deepest commitment is to waking up and living authentically, but a verbal commitment is not enough. Our commitment has to be manifested in how we live and in the depth of our ability to persevere.

This is why it's so important to be honest in observing how we spend our time and energy. This isn't about making ourselves feel guilty, but rather to see clearly where we choose to be “asleep.” At some point we may begin to feel remorse for what we're actually committed to, and this, in turn, can help us to cultivate new commitments. For example, if we're committed to being angry, or worrying, or wasting time online—at some point we may need to feel the remorse of being disconnected from our true heart before we can truly commit to living more genuinely. When I speak about remorse, I'm not referring to guilt. Guilt is based in thinking—it is anger directed against ourselves for things we've done. Remorse is based in the heart—it is the ache in the heart that arises when we go against our true nature.

Please be clear that we can have many healthy commitments—to
people, to our work, to physical activities. These commitments can certainly contribute to a sense of personal happiness, where we feel a sense of fulfillment. The commitment to living authentically is a little different, in that the essential qualities we're cultivating—such as the ability to be present, to live openly and honestly, to live from gratitude and with kindness—bring a much deeper level of happiness. The more we are committed to living genuinely, which on the most profound level is what we really want, the more our priorities become clear.

I heard a relevant story recently. A Zen teacher stood before his students with a very large and empty glass jar. He wordlessly picked up some round stones around the size of small plums and proceeded to fill the jar with them. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. The teacher then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the stones. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They said yes. Next the teacher picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students unanimously agreed. The teacher then produced a glass of water and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed. “Now,” said the teacher, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The stones are the important things—the aspiration to realize your true nature, the wish to live more authentically, the perseverance and commitment to cultivate presence, gratitude, and kindness—and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter, such as your health, your friends, and perhaps your job. The sand is everything else—the small stuff, including
your house, your car, your possessions. If you put the sand into the jar first, there is no room for the stones or the pebbles. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your genuine happiness. Take care of the things that really matter first. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.” One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the water represented. The teacher smiled and said, “I'm glad you asked. The water just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a little more practice, to make your life even fuller.”

One of the ways we can remember our priorities is to invoke the question of the eternal recurrence. When we reach a choice point, where we can do either something that reinforces complacency and waking sleep or something that helps us live more authentically, we can ask, “If I had to live my life over again and again and again, in the exact same way, throughout eternity, what would I do right now?” Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep. There's a desire to drift off into daydreams and fantasies to avoid feeling the discomfort that I'm feeling, but when I ask the question of the eternal recurrence, the answer is always clear: what I most genuinely wish to do is dwell in the heart of awareness. When I remember this, I simply breathe into the center of the chest, saying the following lines:

Breathing in, dwelling in the heart;

Breathing out, just being.

The key point is that if we don't live according to what we genuinely value, we lose our life—moment by moment.

One last point about commitment: one of the essential aspects of commitment is the quality of perseverance. Perseverance is what allowed Slav and his companions to carry on in the face of sometimes daunting and seemingly hopeless circumstances. Their commitment to survive and free themselves from being enslaved was what drove them, and perseverance enabled them not to succumb to their impulses toward safety or comfort. If they had indulged those impulses, they almost certainly would have failed in their quest. The same is true for us: once we understand what we really want, the only way to carry through on this commitment is to persevere through all of the moments when the mind tells us to turn away or to give up.

There is a practice aphorism that is particularly relevant to the quality of perseverance:

Strength exercised equals more strength.

Weakness indulged equals more weakness.

Definitions are important here: By “strength” we mean determination, perseverance, knowing our values and priorities. By “weakness” we mean defaulting into distractions, passivity, and self-indulgence. In short, this is another way of saying we get good at what we practice. For example, the more we sit in meditation, or attend retreats, the stronger our ability to be present. Likewise, when we allow ourselves to regularly miss meditation, it becomes much more difficult to maintain the ability to really be here. Once we establish our commitment, we can see how that commitment grows as we persevere.

The more we make efforts to live authentically, the deeper is our understanding that our purpose is to know who we truly are. And as we connect with ourselves, with our own hearts, we also begin to tap into our interconnection with others. There's
a poignant example of this implicit understanding in
The Long Walk
. The men on the journey were different nationalities and ages and didn't know each other well when they started out. But the shared hardships formed a bond of camaraderie that allowed them to get through their struggles. On one occasion, when they were near the top of the Himalayan peaks, it was so cold that they had to stay awake all night to avoid freezing to death in their sleep. So the four remaining members—three of them had already died—stood together, arm in arm, continuously waking one another up. This is a great reminder of how helpful it can be to travel the spiritual path with like-minded people, where the sense of connection with others can help us to persevere and maintain our commitment to waking up.

15

Sound Bites That Matter

“N
OT
H
APPENING
N
OW
!”

A few decades ago the phrase “Be here now” was one of the most popular phrases in practice. It was not only popular, it also contained a very pointed and succinct message that goes to the essence of what practice is about. An equally powerful, although slightly more subtle message is “Not happening now!” Instead of focusing on being present, the emphasis is on uncovering how much mental spinning we're adding and how it obscures the reality of the present moment.

This obscuring mental spinning is particularly obvious when we're emotionally distressed. In fact, much of our distress comes from the negative thoughts that we add to whatever is actually happening. For example, when we get sick, it's very common to begin weaving negative imaginings about the future. An extreme example is when we have a bad headache and begin imagining we have a brain tumor. It's also easy to get caught in future-think when we have a financial setback with attendant
scenarios of doom. The antidote is to say, “Not happening now!” This phrase is a reminder that most of what is causing us anxiety in the present moment is only happening in our mind.

When we say the phrase, we can follow it by asking, “What am I adding?” This question points us directly to thoughts such as “I can't do this,” which is based on a negative self-image; or “I shouldn't have to go through this,” which is rooted in a sense of entitlement; or “It's his fault,” which is based on being caught in stories about the past. In each of these examples we're adding a mental spin to what is happening, In fact, in almost every example of our emotional distress, what we're adding to the present moment is either from the past or from an imagined future, and in each case it makes the situation worse.

“Not happening now!” has become one of my favorite practice phrases, primarily because it is so direct—it cuts right through a lot of our mental confusion. Sometimes, when I'm sitting in meditation, if I become aware that I'm imagining a difficult conversation with someone, all I have to do is say, “Not happening now!” and it's like poking a pin in a balloon—it just disappears. There may still be a residue of anxiety or anger or sadness to deal with, but without the added mental spin, any emotion that is there can be experienced more directly. In other words, this phrase allows us to drop the stories and actually be here now—to come back to what is
actually
happening now, such as breathing, the bodily experience, or awareness of the environment.

This phrase has been particularly helpful to me of late. When my mind started weaving scenarios of worry or doom about an upcoming surgery for kidney cancer, I had to learn where the line was between “Not happening now!” and thinking about what I needed to do on an objective level. For example, when I
was trying to choose what kind of surgery I wanted to have, I had to consider the different risks involved in the four choices. In such cases, it's easy to jump into negative imaginings about what would happen if the risks became realities—such as losing my whole kidney, or worse. So it was important not to get caught up in the imaginings while I was trying to objectively evaluate what to do. Of course, in making decisions, it's always partly a crapshoot, but when we don't get lost in excessive thinking, we can at least be clearer in our choices. “Not happening now!” has allowed me to maintain a degree of clarity and sanity and avoid getting caught up in the stories the little mind seems intent on weaving.

D
ON'T
G
O
T
HERE
!

“Don't go there!” is a phrase that may not need to be used very often, but when we're caught in obsessive thinking, it is perhaps the best phrase to cut through our addictive thought patterns. When we're feeling emotional distress, our minds can become fixated in thought loops, especially if we've been criticized or feel threatened. Thoughts of blame and self-justification, which are defenses against a perceived attack, can become relentless. When caught in this addictive cycle, it can be very difficult to get out. Even if we sit down to meditate, the mind is most likely to continue in the compulsion to blame and self-justify. Just following the breath, or other tried-and-true meditation techniques, don't seem strong enough to break the addictive cycle of thinking.

The one tool that I've found to be effective in these situations is to say the phrase “Don't go there!” The instruction is to say the phrase every single time the obsessive thinking begins.
Over and over again: “Don't go there!” and then return to present-moment awareness. It's as if we're wielding a sword, cutting off the thoughts each and every time they arise. If we do this consistently, after a while the addictive cycle will be broken. It's similar to tending a fire: each time we put a log on the fire, it burns hotter, but as we stop feeding the fire, it will eventually go out. Saying, “Don't go there!” is a way of putting out the mental fire; we're depriving the mind of the fuel that comes with each thought.

Normally, our practice is not to oppose our thoughts or try to stop them, because trying to stop our thoughts or feelings can easily lead to suppression. Rather, our basic practice is to be open to whatever arises and to observe it with curiosity. But when we're caught in obsessive thinking, sometimes we have to shift gears. However, as soon as the mind cools down, we drop the practice of saying, “Don't go there!” and return to simply observing the mind. This is a good example of the fact that practice can never be reduced to a formula. It is much more an art form, and how we apply that art is based on an increasing refinement of how we understand the subtleties of what is going on in the present moment.