Treat every moment as your last. It is not preparation for something else. *
Imagine the scene. Back in 2000, a Zen monastery in upstate New York, early in the morning, half-way through my first training period. We newbies are huddled together, well behind senior monks and old hands, waiting for the day’s work assignments. Like kids during assembly, we giggle and chat, stealing rare moments of idleness. I’m freezing-cold and feel sleep-deprived, dreading another 14-hour day dictated by ‘form’ and ‘schedule.’
Suddenly, the room grows quiet and bodies move as if Moses had parted the Red Sea. Suddenly the deputy-abbot stands before us: plain brown robe, surveying us with bulging eyes. He grabs my wrists, pauses briefly, and quietly speaks, “Waiting is not time-out, everything’s practice!”
As swiftly as he arrived he moves on, leaving us to digest his instructions. They must have fallen on fertile soil; gradually, over time, they’ve sunk into my consciousness. To this very moment — if only I listen — they point the way inward, past chatter and fear, through worrying and waiting, straight to tranquil ease. No strings attached: no need to pray harder, be a better person, or figure things out.
The poet** speaks to the battered heart —
Nowhere, Beloved, will world be but within us. Our life
passes in transformation. And the external
shrinks into less and less. Where once an enduring house was,
now a cerebral structure crosses our path, completely
belonging to the realm of concepts, as though it still stood in the brain.
at home among concepts as though it still stood in a brain.
. . .
Temples are no longer known. It is we who secretly save up
these extravagances of the heart. Where one of them still survives,
a Thing that was formerly prayed to, worshipped, knelt before —
just as it is, it passes into the invisible world.
Many no longer perceive it, yet miss the chance
to build it inside themselves now . . .
image: Vincent’s Chair with his Pipes by Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890). *Shunryu Suzuki (1904-1971) late abbot, San Francisco Zen Center. **Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926), Duino Elegies (Seventh Elegy) in Mitchell, S. (1989). (trans/ed). The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke. New York: Vintage International, p. 189.
Thanks Peter for the post, always a nice morning enlightenment.
Cheers
The Heart is mentioned only once in this post – and not by you directly. We hope Its recession into the background hum of all that we take for granted is a sign of your continued health. Waldi must be pleased with your renewed stamina for long walks as a new sniffing season blossoms.
What brilliance in your shimmering reminder that all that is is before us now. Bows to you, Suzuki, and Rilke.
Can’t thank you enough for the insights you share. I find the story of the monk telling you that waiting is not time out very helpful to me. As you say, to bypass the worry and chatter and fear and allow the tranquility;
these are potent teachings for me now and, as I look back, for all the years of habitual anxiety.
Precious words. With bows in your direction, and love, Mary.