Over the past month I’ve been thinking about why I make time for practices of body, breath and mind - both in a general way and in terms of the specifics. That is, what’s the value of making this effort? And, why do I choose the yoga, meditation and other spiritual practices (like mantra and prayer and rituals) that I do?
At first, my answers were really noble and pretty highbrow: “I practice for the benefit of all sentient beings,” or “I practice to realize buddha nature.” And both of these are true. I never conclude a session without dedicating the merit to the benefit of others, and I am convinced that the traditions I am a part of can and will inevitably lead to total spiritual awakening (enlightenment) if pursued diligently and consistently, even if it might take some time. But, honestly, this is really abstract and I tend to be what they call a concrete sequentialist. That is to say, I do better with detailed and specific answers. So, the question became “what is it that I get out of doing these things?” And, yes, for a Buddhist that “I” is a sign of my ego at work. But the reality is that I do have an ego structure and, if what I spend so much of my time on had no demonstrable result in life as it is lived, I wouldn’t make the effort. I’m not enlightened or spiritual enough, I suppose, to work solely for some future state.
Thinking about these things a memory came forward; one that’s been present to me since last fall. In it, I am perhaps 7 or 8 years old and visiting my paternal grandparents. We are in the kitchen after a big midday dinner. My granny was such a cook! There might be 6 - 10 people at the table - my grandad, parents, brother, cousins, aunts and uncles. She would cook a meat dish, maybe also chicken, rolls, several vegetables and often had a pie or cake. She made everything from scratch and the vegetables and some fruits came from her garden. One afternoon, when the meal was over, I was in the kitchen clearing the dishes and she was washing them. I noticed how bright and shiny all her pots and pans were. At home ours had scratches and baked on black bits from grease and such. “Did you get new pots and pans, Granny,” I asked? “No,” she said. “Some of these are older than your Daddy. I just keep them clean.”
When I first recalled this in the fall, it was while doing the dishes after dinner at home with Eileen. Our baking sheets were black and scratched, tops and bottoms. Nothing was dirty, but nothing was spotless. And our cookware is far less old than my Granny’s had been. So I made a commitment: every time I wash them I’ll get them a bit cleaner than they were last time. Over the past few months the pots started looking pretty good! The pans are a long term project - but little by little they are revealing their silver or gray surfaces underneath the baked-on oil. To keep them in a better condition, to restore them even, is to treat the pans with respect and to honor the elements of the earth and the labor of those who made them.
So, back to practice. For the first 35 years of my life, I just lived day to day. I didn’t especially take care of my body or my mind. And the consequences were many! But, practice is like polishing my pots and pans, slowly the inner surfaces come to light. With enough practice we sparkle and glow, like my Granny’s kitchen. I practice because little by little it restores body, speech and mind, revealing the inner lamp of awareness in all its pellucidity. And that light is the source of joy, of enthusiasm, of compassion and authentic engagement with the world.
I’ve come to think that enlightenment is like my Granny’s pans. As we clean and restore ourselves we return to our original condition and our life becomes the radiance of our inner light, which is the inner light inherent in all beings. Clear and mirrorlike wisdom arises, allowing the unfolding vision of the world and my place in it to reveal itself more fully and completely.
If we all commit to our own work, growing a bit more clear day by day and year by year, we create what the texts of Sanatama Dharma call “Indra’s Necklace”. This necklace is a vast string of crystals, like the stars strung across the sky. Each life, each soul, is a multifaceted crystal in the sky of awareness. Each one glows and shines back a reflection of all the others. Practice creates and sustains a dynamic world of meaning and value, of interconnectedness and reciprocity. I practice because the possibilities that unfold though it are so much more beautiful and expansive than those that come about without it.
May we all find those means which sustain our hearts and minds in a place that truly does benefit not only ourselves but all beings everywhere!
Hence my signature line: Keep practicing!
Rob
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