Pema Chödrön discusses her discovery of Buddhism and explains how pain can be a great spiritual teacher.
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#2430 - Sunday, March 26, 2006 - Editor: Gloria Lee
"My heart will always
fly to you like a bird, from any place on earth, and it will
surely find you."
-- Etty Hillesum
posted by Ben Hassine
Greetings of Peace
Dear Friends:
Here is a short and true Sufi story for your
enjoyment.
Meeting the Master
On the day before summer, I finally met the Master. And though I
have
thought of him often and dreamed of him and talked to him in my
mind,
even missed him as though we were separated family, I had never
actually met him nor spoken to him.
Over the years I have read all his books and heard many
stories about him. And for many of those years I had written a
Sufi
novel entitled Master of the Jinn, a project whose research led
me to
read many Sufi texts, and whose unfolding became almost like a
zekr
as I worked on it for hours each night. For much of that time I
was
fortunate enough to live in a khaniqah, whose library and energy
and
knowledgeable darvishes helped enormously.
Now, I thought, I had created something worthwhile enough so as
to be
worthy of meeting the Master and being in his company. How little
I
knew of the Master, or of his loving-kindness.
And so, after ten hours of travel, I arrived in England,
and by
chance met a fellow darvish who apparently was on the same plane.
He
saw my sleeping bag and guessed I was going to the same, very
crowded
khaniqah. There was to be a large gathering of dervishes from all
over the world and many brought tents or sleeping bags.
Together we
traveled to the khaniqah by taxi.
Shortly after we arrived, the Master called us into his
room, as he does all dervishes who come from a far distance. We
went
into the small bedroom of the main house, kissed the threshold,
and
entered. The Master was dressed in white and sat cross-legged,
and we
sat on our knees before him. He greeted us warmly, and as he
looked
at me his face lit up with wide-eyed surprise and joy, as if I
were
someone he was not expecting but happy to see. Perhaps it was my
imagination, but my heart sang. I remembered well the tales of
the
Master's glance and attention.
He asked how our trip had been.
"It was a good trip, one I want to make often,
inshallah," my companion said.
"Sufis are always inshallah (God willing)," the Master
replied. "There is no need to say it."
We nodded our heads, and after a few kind words, he
smiled and said, "Welcome, then" and waved us out.
As soon as we were outside, I felt a sharp pain in my
left knee, as if I had twisted it, though I could not for the
life of
me remember how.. I limped upstairs to get some aspirin, and
found a
darvish there whom I knew well.
"Do you have another pair of pants with you?" he asked
me?
"Only a pair of sweats. Why?"
"Because you have a large tear in yours, on the seat."
I turned my head to look, and groaned. It was a wide tear.
"Get a needle and thread from someone and sew it," he
suggested.
"What the hell is going on?" I thought, taking the
aspirin and changing into sweat pants for the time being.
Once outside, I met a Shaykh I knew walking on the grounds
and
greeted him happily, kissing his cheeks. He asked how I was
doing.
"Well, I've been here for half an hour and I've already
twisted my
knee and torn my pants," I said.
He chuckled, "Such things are common here."
I borrowed needle and thread from one of the darvishes and walked
to
the sleeping area to mend the tear. As I limped along the
path, I
realized suddenly what a fool I had been. I had walked in with
pride,
and limped out in humility. I had come in arrogance and received
torn
pants for my folly.
"Thank you, Master!" I cried.
And the words of the great Junayd came to my heart.
"I will go a thousand leagues in falsehood, that one step of
the
journey may be true."
by Irving Karchmar, author of Master of the Jinn: A Sufi Novel.
Copyright 2005, All rights reserved. http://www.masterofthejinn.com posted to Allspirit
Come, come, whoever you are
-
wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn't matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you've broken your vow
a thousand times, come,
yet again, come, come.
~ Rumi
DO YOU NOT SEE HIM,
THE REALLY WISE MAN, ALWAYS AT EASE,
UNMOVED?
HE DOES NOT GET RID OF ILLUSION, NOR
DOES HE SEEK FOR THE (SO-CALLED] TRUTH.
IGNORANCE IS INTRINSICALLY THE BUDDHA
NATURE,
OUR ILLUSORY UNREAL BODY IS THE COSMIC
BODY.
The "really wise man" is Bach at the organ; Basho when
he heard the
frog jump into the always silent water; Eckhart when he said just
before his death, "Where to us God shows least he is often
most";
Hakurakuten when he bought the hens from the butcher and released
them; Mrs. Gamp when she put her lips to the gin-bottle; the
three
sisters Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie in the treacle well, learning to
draw a
"muchness"; Mozart bursting into tears as he sings his
own requiem;
Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy gazing with "joy" at
the glow-worm.
The violent activity, the silent intentness, the talking, the
tender-
heartedness, the greediness, the nonsense, the unutterable grief,
the
utterable joy, -these are enlightenment.
From 'What is Zen'
R.H.Blyth Gill Eardley
posted to Allspirit
There Is A Brokenness
by Rashani
There is a brokenness
out of which comes the unbroken,
A shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable.
There is a sorrow
Beyond all grief which leads to joy
And a fragility
Out of which depth emerges strength.
There is a hollow space
Too vast for words
Through which we pass with each loss,
Out of whose darkness we are sanctified into being.
There is a cry deeper than all sound
Whose serrated edges cut the heart
As we break open
To the place inside which is unbreakable
And whole.
On a deeper level,
teachings are occurring all around us, all the time, through
the daily events that some perceive as instructional or perhaps
inspirational, the
Wisdom display, the self-arising inner Guru as the Mandala of our
lives. Whereas
others perceive the same daily events as we do, but only
"experience" their
Mandala to be "mundane" or barren of meaning. Through
"suffering" even those
of such limited "view" are drawn to seek some relief or
a path leading to
authentic happiness and love. Their inner Guru is always
functioning and offering
the appropriate "teaching" for them at that time... how
amazing! Could it be that
the Great Perfection is always present and guiding in us in all
we do?
Jax posted to Dzogchen Practice
I don't think we
talk enough about the need to apply either 'will' or some
alternative melting exercise' before we can achieve the 'relaxed'
dzogchen
states. After all, dzogchen came out of a highly disciplined
approach to
meditation. It's one thing to teach 'Thou art That' to a
dedicated disciple
and quite another to teach it to someone with no experience. This
brings to
mind also Aziz Kristof's essay on 'False Advaita,' in which he
states:
" We would like also to create a few practical
anti-pseudo-advaita
statements:
'You are not awakened unless you awaken!' 'You are not That,
unless you
reach unity with Universal I AM!' 'There is no Path but only for
those who
Completed it!' 'There is nobody here, but only when somebody has
dissolved!
Until that time you are simply a suffering somebody who only
tries to
believe in being no one, or entertains oneself by giving
'satsang.'"
Yee-haw! Go-gettum!
Ramon Sender posted to Way-of-Light
"In our scriptures
[samyuktagama sutra, vol 33] it is said that there are four
kinds of horses; excellent ones, good ones, poor ones, and bad
ones. The best
horse will run slow and fast, right and left, at the driver's
will, before it sees
the shadow of the whip. The second best will run as well as the
first one does,
just before the whip reaches his skin; the third one will run
when it feels the
pain on its body; the forth will run after the pain penetrates to
the marrow of
its bones."
"When we hear this story,
almost all of us want to be the best horse. If it is
impossible to be the best one, we want to be the second best.
This is, i think,
the usual understanding of this story, and of Zen. You may think
that when you
sit in zazen you will find whether you are one of the best horses
or one of the
worst ones. Here, however, there is a misunderstanding of Zen. If
you think the
aim of Zen practice is to train you to become one of the best
horses, you will
have a big problem. This is not the right understanding. If you
practice Zen in
the right way it does not matter whether you are the best horse
or the worst
one. When you consider the mercy of Buddha, how do you think
Buddha will feel
about the four kinds of horses? He will have more sympathy for
the worst one
than for the best one. When you are determined to practice zazen
with the
great mind of Buddha, you will find the worst horse is the most
valuable one. In
your very imperfections you will find the basis for your firm,
way-seeking mind.
Those who can sit perfectly physically usually take more time to
obtain the true
way of Zen, the actual feeling, the marrow of Zen. So I
think that sometimes
the best horse may be the worst horse and the worst horse can be
the best
horse."
"If you study calligraphy you
will find that those who are very clever with their
hands often encounter great difficulty after they have reached a
certain stage.
This is also true in art and in Zen. It is true in life. So when
we talk about Zen
we cannot say, "He is good," or "he is bad,"
in the ordinary sense of the words.
The posture taken in zazen is not the same for each of us. For
some it may be
impossible to take the cross-legged posture. But even though you
cannot take
the right posture when you arouse your real, way-seeking mind,
you can practice
Zen in its true sense."
~ Shunryu Suzuki "The Marrow of Zen" in "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind" ts posted to Allspirit
| Turning
Toward Pain Pema Chödrön discusses her discovery of Buddhism and explains how pain can be a great spiritual teacher. |
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| Interview by James Kullander |