I’ve been thinking about something one of my teachers was talking about, this idea of being a spiritual seeker, and how necessary this is in the beginning, but how we also must understand that once we’ve found our way we must unpack, put away our bags, and settle in to our new location.
So many of us get caught up in the idea of being a spiritual seeker, always looking for enlightenment, for wisdom, for clarity, for the super-special sauce that will instill our being with spiritual creaminess. We seek and seek. We read book after book after book, devouring what’s inside them like starving dogs, hardly pausing before we pick up the next one, or go to the next teaching, or retreat, or workshop. On and on and on we go, thinking that what we seek is somehow always ahead of us, up there somewhere in the future, between the covers of the next book or in the mind of the next teacher or what what what.
This impetus to seek the something that will sustain us, will provide what we really, truly need, is vital. If you don’t seek, you certainly won’t find.
But if you never stop seeking, you’ll also never find.
I don’t know where you are on your journey. Perhaps you’ve already found what you need and are now engaged in living that truth for yourself. I hope that is the case. Perhaps you are still seeking, and because you haven’t found the “path with a heart” that Don Juan talked about, you keep looking, and rightfully so.
But perhaps you found the path you were looking for some time ago, but you’re still acting like a seeker. And if that’s the case, you may feel still that, yeah, this is it, this is the place, but what I need, what I have to find, is the piece that will make it all come together for me. I need to understand this aspect better, I need to learn that area, I need to be given the real stuff, the inner stuff, the stuff those great masters have, and once they give it to me, then I’ll be set. Good to go.
And so you press on.
What my teacher was saying, and I think this is really brilliant and helpful if this situation applies to you at all, is that when we recognize that we’re on the path that works for us, we have to make a real transition in our whole approach. I will use my own path as an example here just because it’s close to hand and I’m familiar with it, but the essence of this shift is the same no matter how the external particulars are expressed- at some point you have to say, okay, I’m here. I found it. This is the place for me. I’m home. I’m not seeking any more.
And you unpack your bags. And you set up your new home. And you get to work. You begin to till the soil, plant, cultivate, harvest. You begin to manifest the fruits of practice.
It doesn’t mean you quit going to teachings, quit reading books, quit studying, quit trying to understand everything. The outer conduct may look exactly the same as before. But the internal landscape is radically different. And the results, the outcome, is radically different.
I think you can see this in people in your own church or mosque or temple or Buddhist center- there are many people who are active members, studying, learning, very well versed in the academic aspects of the faith or practice, but they remain somehow unchanged within, where it really matters, as if the teachings were merely bouncing off of some internal armor and leaving their souls unscathed. And you can see others, maybe newcomers, who arrive and are open and curious and seeking and they study and learn but then they begin to change, they begin to actually somehow embody the teachings. They may not always act skillfully, but they act with conviction and a willingness to risk looking stupid, to risk making mistakes, and they get better and better and you can tell they’re really doing it.
You want to be like the second person. You don’t want to be so close to the truth and still blind to it.
I think this is something that has been essential in my own transformation. I knew very quickly that I was in the right place, and I very quickly decided that I would do everything that the teachings said to do. I wanted to put it into practice, not just study it, not just think about it, but DO it. And this changed everything.
And there’s another aspect to this as well, I mean, I say I got it quickly, I decided quickly, but that’s not true at all, really. I was an armchair Buddhist for years and years and years, and I thought Buddhism was cool and neat and smart and helpful and I read books and thought, yes, yes, they’ve really got something there. But for all those years I never did a single thing that made me really a Buddhist. I was on the outside looking in, but I thought I was kind of inside, you know?
I had to develop real renunciation, maybe. Had to really feel in my guts that the first noble truth was a pretty good starting point. Had to really, really know that listening to my screaming ego was stupid and it was killing me and I wanted to stop. All kinds of causes and conditions had to arise, I guess, and eventually they did, and I found myself really standing at the foot of the path. I could see the path, could tell it really was going up the mountain- maybe it disappeared from view up ahead somewhere, but I could see where it was going, and I could see others up ahead of me, and I knew that there had been those who’d walked it to the end, and now I was standing there, right at the foot of it all.
And it was up to me to step on to the path. No one else could or would do it for me.
It’s that willingness to let go of our own whole selves, I think, that in someway opens the door. Something. You cannot hold on to what you think you are if you are to go forward. You can’t say, “I will take this path, but I will also stay right here where I am safe and I understand everything.” You have to leave yourself utterly, and go naked into the wildness of the unknown.
But there’s help. There’s guidebooks and signposts along the way. Books on gardening. Right? Because the journey, once you’ve stepped on the path for real, isn’t about going somewhere else, but being right where you are. Being where you are totally and completely, and then doing the work. The hard work of uprooting the stones and tree stumps in your untamed mind. Making space for compassion and love, digging out the weeds of selfishness, fear, and hatred.
Again and again it comes down to doing the work. And you know, when you first start out, your work is probably going to be weak sauce. Your shit is going to fall down, your plants will die, you’ll overwater, etc. It’s only by actually doing that you learn and get better. All the book knowledge in the world won’t grow you a delicious crop of tasty goodness. You have to get your hands dirty, you have to commit to failing and failing and failing until you get it. Then make it better, keep going.
Then you’re on the path. Then you’re going somewhere and nowhere at the same time.
And you change your world.
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Probably preaching to the choir here, but I find the idea very helpful.
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May you be happy, may you be free from suffering, may you be at peace.
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Namaste.
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allene said:
I’m realizing I’m there (as much as I can be…) and I’ve started unpacking. I was a trifle nervous with my new-found peace, serenity and joy.
No more.
Thanks for this post.
Thanks.
tearfuldishwasher said:
Good for you, my friend!
It’s crazy, isn’t it, how difficult it can be to be with peace, serenity, and joy? A good indicator of just how crazy we have been!
I’m happy for you, and glad you said hi and shared your thoughts!
jewelmoon said:
Good post!
Unpacked long ago. Now, I get up every morning, set the motivation and keep my teachings with my practice, dedicating as I go into the night. Sometimes I trip and fall and get up, lost in a forest searching for the way. It’s never far…not ever. 🙂
tearfuldishwasher said:
Ah, yes, the deep joy of being where you are, and cultivating that, honoring it, feeding it and caring for it.
How our path is always right under our feet, we just have to remember!
I’m happy for you, and it’s easy to see how your practice sustains and supports you. Keep up the good work!
and thank you, as always, for stopping by.
yrs-
scott
Mary Moon said:
I was thinking about these words and also the film in your newer post of the carrying of the remains of your teacher and I had so many thoughts. One being that we all find teachers in such different places. We all seek in different places. We all see each thing, each place, each person so differently. Which is how it should be. The dirt and environment which supports the life of my beloved magnolias will not support the life of the Great Redwoods. Each has to grow where it can thrive. This sun, this dirt, this water, this temperature. And I was thinking (as I was filling up my chicken waterers and their feed thing and the cockroaches were scattering everywhere) how inclined I am to believe and trust in what I see and feel and hear and touch and taste. And yet, how I know without doubt there is much I cannot detect with my senses which is perfectly true and as scientifically real as chickens-need-water-and-food. And how although I am open to that and am sure of it, I don’t spend much time trying to figure it out. This is who I am. I think I used to more when I was younger. This teacher or that one would show up on the radar and I would listen, study, look, and then I would wander off, satisfied that yes, that was interesting and perhaps I had learned something to put in my pocket, but that devotion was never part of it. My devotion, I suppose, is reserved for my family, my life here where I live. I sure do wish you and I could sit down sometime to discuss all of this. I think we would laugh a lot. I’m pretty sure that’s true. At least, I hope it would be.
Peace to you, Scott.
tearfuldishwasher said:
I was reading your blog today (which I do every day) and, although I didn’t comment, what I thought was, “Wow, she really gets it. She really has it together. Everything she does is her religion.”
There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ve got things figured out. Maybe not for everyone else, but certainly for Ms. Moon and her tribe. And I was thinking the same thing kind of when I was watching that film, you know, like, “wtf? how can this be something that moves me? Why am I crying, all overflowing with devotion for this dead Tibetan guy in a big hat? Look at those fools with the trumpets and the sticks of incense in the red dresses. How can this be my path? I must be crazy.”
and the same thing, this thought that we all do see each thing differently. For whatever reason, this path is my spiritual home. It calls me, it speaks to me, it undoes my laces and pushes me down on the bed. I’m helpless before it.
You don’t need all that show to get it done. You dwell right in the heart of what matters more than anyone I’ve ever met, and I ain’t even met you.
I’d sure love a nice long sit down with you sometime. Who knows how things unfold, maybe we’ll yet get it to happen.
Bless you. You are a great big old engine of love on a planet that needs love like it needs sunshine and water.
I feel so glad we are friends.
and thanks for sharing your wisdom with us here.
yrs-
Scott
Elizabeth said:
I have no idea whether I’m unpacked or packed or am just wandering around with an empty suitcase. What I do know and I don’t know all the time is that despite some pretty serious and shitty stuff in my life, I can feel strangely happy. I might be the Guilietta Massima character in La Strada — the fool — or maybe I’m the Anthony Quinn one — the strongman. I read this post twice today, Tearful, and the comments. The first time, it made me sweat (in my mind). The second time, it sunk in, made me fly.
tearfuldishwasher said:
Well, I know you’re as strong as the strongman. You lack his cruelty and stupidity, though. And you’re far more driven and alive than Massima’s character. Buffeted by fate, no doubt, and suffering, but no fool.
I’m happy you came back to this for a second read that sunk in better, that’s wonderful. I don’t want to just make your mind sweat- although that’s nice, too!
I am certain that you are a saint, an embodied and imperfect one, but a saint nonetheless. If anything holy can be found, it lies in your heart, in your love for your children and your refusal to look away from the horror show this life can be.
I’m proud to have you as a friend.
yrs-
scott
Carol Robinson said:
THIS IS SO AMAZINGLY RIGHT ON POINT ~~ ALSO, NOT SO AMAZING, BUT NATURAL FOR ANYONE WHO IS PAYING ATTENTION TO WHAT IS FOUNDATIONAL IN OUR LIVES IN FORM ON THIS PLANET. AND TO ANYONE WHO HAS FOUND HOW TO BE WHAT ONE IS, TO LET GO OF UNREALISTIC EXPECTATIONS, AND THEREFORE, DISAPPOINTMENTS. AND TO ANYONE WHO HAS REALIZED THAT THE JOB IS TO PUT ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER AND TO REALIZE THAT WE’RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER, AND THE MORE WE HELP EACH OTHER, STARTING WITH OURSELVES, THE MORE IT WILL WORK!
THANK YOU, DEAR ALLENE, FOR THIS SUCCINCT AND PRACTICABLE STATEMENT FROM THE DISHWASHER. MAGNIFICENT! AND I’LL BE PASSING IT ON TO NUMEROUS FRIENDS TO BE SURE!
Apologies for the CAPS. I really wanted to make a heartful thank-you and I-grok-it statement to Allene. Thank you Dishwasher for this and please, Sir, will you put me on your mailing list? Also, I don’t have any of the social media connections. Carol
P.S. I thought I was the only one who remembered the moral of the story in La Strada. Even a pebble (or grain of sand) on the beach has a purpose.
tearfuldishwasher said:
Carol-
Heartfelt thanks appreciated. And welcome to the blog. I hope you’ll find something of value here.
And blessings to Allene for pointing the way for you!
yrs-
Scott
laurelkdodge said:
And you change your world.
Yes.
And, when you change your world, you change THE world.
Interestingly, I have not struggled with nor fought against this happiness, this peacefulness, this acceptance that came upon me seemingly out of the clear blue a few years back now. For as suspicious as I had been up to that point in my life of happiness, weirdly, when it fell upon me, I just opened my arms and heart to it and never looked back.
So.
There is a woman at work who was a regular old vanilla Christian and in her desperate seeking, became what I call a Nazi Christian, very in everyone’s face about her faith and then went even further and went all speaking in tongues. I fully expected her to dive into the handling of snakes end of things but she surprised us all by converting to Judaism and in the process managed to alienate many of her family members in the process. Orthodox Judaism, mind you. She was coming to work dressed like someone from a different century with her hair covered. It was….weird. And I felt and still feel badly for her because what she is seeking, she obviously is not finding in any religion.
Meanwhile, I’m all peaceful and fluffy and content and happy and shit with no real work involved. I take evening walks with my cat, Bob, and I feel so utterly in the moment, so one with the universe. It’s just me and the night sky and the lightning bugs and a cat that glows in the dark.
Life is good, friend.
Nothing deep here. Just bliss. Plain and simple.
Peace to you and yours, brother.
tearfuldishwasher said:
I think you’d have to call that grace. Happiness with no real work involved. And I know it’s true, I can hear it in your words all the time, and I remember when it wasn’t like that. I celebrate with you for this great good blessing, and thank you for your friendship.
mary jane dodd said:
wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. i completely identify. i too have had the buddhist connection for probably more than half of my life – coming up on fifty and started around the late teens. i recently also came to the conclusion that there was a distinction to be made – that it wasn’t about how far i was willing to go, but how deep. knowledge and learning can keep you branching out forever. but as you so aptly say, you have to unpack and stay to make it happen. how grateful i am, every day for having found you.
tearfuldishwasher said:
I’m glad we found each other, too. My teacher says that we recognize the wisdom of the teachings when we encounter them and that it feels like coming home. That’s been my experience for sure.