A reminder from The Noble Search sutta dropped into my mind as I sat down to meditate. It came from this passage:
And what is the noble search? Here someone being himself subject to birth, having understood the danger in what is subject to birth, seeks the unborn supreme security from bondage, Nibbāna; being himself subject to ageing, having understood the danger in what is subject to ageing, he seeks the unageing supreme security from bondage, Nibbāna; being himself subject to sickness, having understood the danger in what is subject to sickness, he seeks the unailing supreme security from bondage, Nibbāna; being himself subject to death, having understood the danger in what is subject to death, he seeks the deathless supreme security from bondage, Nibbāna; being himself subject to sorrow, having understood the danger in what is subject to sorrow, he seeks the sorrowless supreme security from bondage, Nibbāna; being himself subject to defilement, having understood the danger in what is subject to defilement, he seeks the undefiled supreme security from bondage, Nibbāna. This is the noble search.
What came to focus were the phrases, “the danger in what is subject to birth,” “the danger in what is subject to death,” “the danger in what is subject to sorrow.” The danger…
Why entertain the problem-solving mind, when any solution would be impermanent and out of one’s control, tainted with the danger of suffering? Knowing this, my mind relaxed into stillness and contentment. The meditation glided between the rugged cliffs of restlessness and lethargy to a serene wakefulness, without my even trying.
What happened could not be forced, but it wasn’t an accident, either. In each meditation session, I have practiced to develop stillness, and to emerge from that calm into the flux of sensory impressions that make up what we call “life”.
Emerging from the jhanas, the impressions from the senses regain their vividity, but, like lines traced by a finger on water, or like the flickering of a broken lamp, their imprints don’t last much longer than the lengths of their actual, minute, occurrences. With every mindful moment, there grows an understanding of the flimsiness behind the perceived solidity of things. The mind settles into peace – not by bathing in the happiness of concentration, but by seeing, and being OK with, the flashes of phenomena’s appearances and disappearances.
And, just like how a sputtering melody runs a bit more smoothly after an arduous practice session at the piano, the mind finds its way back to wisdom and release more easily after each sit. Repeated practice was the condition for the recollection of the sutta, arising like a sudden thunderstorm, to soothe the fretting mind and the tension in every muscle.
Thus, in place of the stress and strain of contorting the mind to force things to happen (and failing anyway), I’ve noticed increasing confidence, stability, and ease. Confidence, of course, in the Dharma and the Path, from seeing again and again that insight leads to letting go. But more than that, there is stability in feeling connected: to the Buddha, to the teachers whom I have leaned on, to fellow seekers of truth and peace – from the present all the way back to the Buddha’s time. There is a deep intimacy in knowing that I have tasted a little of what they tasted.
I still have a long way to go. But I appreciate these experiences as small encouragements – lamp posts illuminating a footpath, paint marks on the rocks and trees of a hiking trail that tell me I’m on track. They give me strength during the dark stretches to keep going!
