The Gift of Spiritual Practice
When I began spiritual practice, now nearly five decades ago, (oh my!), I believe I had a barely conscious belief that I would beyond the reach of life’s difficulties, ultimately rising above it all, unmoved, a stone Buddha, unshaken and unmoved.
It hasn’t worked that way.
The gifts of practice have been great, but not what I imagined. Instead of rising above, I am more aware than ever of my tender, quivering heart. Instead of calm transcendence I have found a greater vulnerability and sensitivity, to my own plight and the plight of others. In other words, there is a greater sense of kindness and compassion, toward myself and all beings, a greater sense of the fragility and vulnerability of life in all its forms.
I would not trade that for non-feeling, for any state that cuts me off from this tenderness of being alive.
Recent Posts
See AllOne day the Buddha stood before 1250 monks, help up a flower, and stood in silence. There was a long pause, until one of his students, Mahakashyapa, smiled. The Buddha smiled back and said, “Today I
As he was dying, the Buddha imparted this advice: Take refuge in the island of self. There is no other refuge. For those of us growing up in the western tradition, John Donne’s famous poem, saying th
While a lot of the time we complain about having too much to do, sometimes we may find ourselves at the other end of the spectrum—feeling bored. Even though we have more ways of distracting ourselves
