I return to this idea again and again. A still pond reflecting truth back to us. Reflecting ourselves - our honest authentic selves. So it's probably no surprise that as I drove to work this morning, Thay (Thich Nhat Hanh) spoke of how important it is to do the "Flower - Fresh and Water - Reflecting" meditations every day. And, of course, the Water - Reflecting meditation is the one that stood out to me. Breathing in I see myself as still waters. Breathing out I reflect things as they are.
Yet I am reminded of another time I have heard Thay say that in order to experience peace, we must first learn to enjoy peace. Too many of us do not know how to enjoy peace; we find peace boring. So we turn to drugs, alcohol, sex and other lesser forms of excitement to escape the simplicity of peace. The beauty of a still pond is that you can see yourself clearly in it. And the terror and difficulty of a still pond is that you can see yourself clearly in it. Perhaps it should not surprise me, then, that I start to grow afraid when the waters begin to settle - when the mud and silt that cloud the clarity begin to recede to the bottom and I can see myself more clearly once again - myself and the world around me. I can see all the grief colors painted across my face; I can see the pain of the friends and family around me learning to face their journeys through sickness, loss, pain, despair, grief, addiction, confusion, and doubt. I can see everything just as it is.
It should not surprise me that I seek new ways to stir up the waters - to make it choppy and unclear. Because sometimes peace is more than just boring. Sometimes peace is painful. Sometimes peace lets you hear the silence you don't want to hear - it lets you look around and sense the emptiness of your home, or the absence of someone you love. Sometimes peace lets you get to know yourself in ways you have never taken time for in the past. Sometimes the sheer unfamiliarity of my own inner landscape makes me want to stir the waters again, let the mud and silt cloud the reflection that is just a bit too clear.
But every so often I do let the mud settle. I do just stop churning up the waters, and I see clearly. And I see that there is actually deep beauty in everything about the way things are. Mary Oliver writes of
| the fires | |
| and the black river of loss | |
| whose other side | |
| is salvation |
We often don't want to face those fires - that river. But that is exactly what mindfulness does. It helps us practice being present with the way things really are - without the need for distractions from the suchness of life - the encounter with the way things are, unedited, boldly, starkly, nakedly. It's not that this should be easy to face and we simply lack courage to do so. It is precisely that these are extremely difficult encounters to have - this is why we practice mindfulness - why we grow it as a muscle that has never fully developed but needs to, if we are to make an honest go of this thing called spiritual transformation.
The familiar (and sometimes unfamiliar) distractions of our particular pet preoccupations, obsessions, fears, or compulsions are sometimes greatly preferable to the simplicity of facing the world in peace, as it is - because peace does not mean we are disconnected from our pain or grief or fear. It means we can experience it much more directly - and that takes a different kind of courage. One that takes both intention and attention. And patience. And the willingness to hurt.
So for today I will simply let the waters settle and give thanks for the ability to experience that clarity. And I will continue to engage with my imperfect practice. Tonight I will go to sleep and leave my fan off as long as possible, knowing there are nights that the silence does not overwhelm me. Knowing also that there are nights where I cannot sleep in direct contact with the nakedness of my thoughts and sensations - knowing I need that white noise to blur the clarity just a little bit so that I can relax enough to drift off. It's funny sometimes, how much work it can take to make peace with peace.
Breathing in, I see myself as still water. Breathing out, I see things just as they are.
Water-Reflecting Meditation
