'Tis the Season

  "Commitment is at the very heart of freeing ourselves 

of old habits and old fears."

― Pema Chodron

 “I think what everyone should be doing, before it's too late, is committing themselves to what they really want to do with their lives.”
― Thich Nhat Hạnh

Whispering through the trees in small patches of red, orange, and yellow, the first hints of autumn have appeared here in Western Massachusetts.  

Here it comes, ready or not.   

To Every Thing There is a Season

As they often do as autumn announces its presence, my thoughts have turned to those times in my life that I have committed to Intensive Practice in the fall.  In Buddhism, like many of the world's religions (Ramadan in Islam.  The High Holy Days in Judaism.  Lent in Christianity,  etc.), there are extended periods of time each year that some folks move beyond "business as usual" to make a special commitment to their spiritual practice.    

In Buddhism, the tradition of the Rain's Retreat (Vassa or Ango) goes back to the time of the Buddha.  Traditionally beginning the first day of the waning moon of the eighth lunar month (June/July), it lasted about three months, the period of time that the monsoon season in India made travel difficult.  During that time the monks, who were homeless wanderers most of the year, would gather in one place to hear the Buddha's teachings and engage in intensive meditation practice.  

To this day, an extended period of meditative retreat is widespread in Theravadan Buddhism.  It is observed in various forms in Tibetan Buddhism and Zen as well.  Here in the US, where hot summer weather is more problematic than monsoons, the rain's retreat seems to have evolved into periods of intensive practice that occur in the Fall and/or the Spring. 

At Insight Meditation Society (IMS) in Barre, MA, the Rain's Retreat has become The Three Month Course, a meditation intensive that begins in September each year.  In 1991, I joined that retreat for the entire month of October.  
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At IMS, this commitment meant existing in silence for 30 days, and meditating in one form or the other from 5:30 a.m. until 10:00 p.m. each day.  Except for listening to an evening dharma talk, sometimes receiving a few words of instruction during a period of work, and engaging in a brief interview with a teacher every few days, the entire world was wordless.  Even reading was discouraged.   An inveterate bookworm, this made me squirm.   Yet, this proved to be a powerful support for dissipating the momentum of habitual thought.

My mind got really quiet.  Really...really....quiet.

Being silent for weeks and weeks left me speechless.  In this Silence, a deep sense of awe emerged.  To a mind freed from the fetters of thought, Reality asserted itself.  The wind whispering in the trees -- and the multicolored leaves dancing beneath a brilliant blue sky -- said all there was to know.  

As sages, poets, philosophers, mystics -- and children -- have known this throughout time, at the heart of reality, Truth exists.  Goodness exists.  Beauty exist.  In precious moments unfettered by our conditioned egoic filters they can be experienced directly.  When heart and mind and body are truly Present to experience the mysterious grandeur of the moment, the answer really is blowing in the wind.  

It is that simple.  Yet, life being life in a culture steeped in centuries of scientfic materalism, capitalism, and a Christianity dominated by dogmas more influenced by imperial perogatives than spiritual wisdom, maintaining the clarity and ease and energy of Presence isn't easy.  I had wordly responsibiities.  (including three ex's and four children.  Sigh. A long tale for another day. )

I worked long hours.  I spent time with my children when I could.  I stayed active in the political and cultural life of the community.  Sometimes I cruised.  Sometimes I struggled.  Mostly I just did what I believed I had to do.  A daily meditation practice seemed like one of those things.

Days, weeks, and months became years.  Moments of Presence came and went.  At times, I noticed the strong and ancient yearning to head for the hills and enjoy the simplicity and stillness of Retreat.  Then the bell would ring.  I would bow, get on my feet -- and do what I could do to take care of business.

I continued to meditate most every day.  

Then, fifteen years later, I was able to follow that yearning.  My youngest daughter had graduated and was working in New York City.  Another long term relationship had dissolved.  It was time. The autumn leaves beckoned me to another month long retreat.  

This time I joined the monastic schedule at Zen Mountain Monastery (ZMM) during Fall Ango for the month of October.  Later, I returned for another six months of residency, exploring whether now, at long last, I could just become a monk. Then, finally seeing clearly that this wasn't my path, I headed back into "the world" to figure out what I wanted to be when I grow up.  (Now, at age 80, that train has definitely left the station. LOL) 

And A Time for Every Purpose

Since I left ZMM in 2005, I have continued a daily meditation practice for another twenty years.  A lifelong nerd, I still devour tomes on the world's wisdom traditions and spiritual practice. (These days I spend time on YouTube and elsewhere listening to talks and interviews as well.)  I also meet on zoom to meditate in silence and compare notes and life and spiritual practice with a small group of kindred spirits.   

So, at this stage of the journey, I feel pretty settled in my life and practice.  I don't sense a need to head for the hills to be a monk -- or even spend a month in retreat.  Yet, one patch of orange leaves had something to say to me as I walked through the neighborhood a few mornings ago.  Nestled in a silent choir of green maple leaves, it was whispering: 'Tis the season...

So, as summer wanes and the world rolls toward the Autumnal Equinox, I feel the emergence of a commitment to intensify my practice once again.  

I'm not sure exactly what this will look like yet.  But, these days, "not knowing" is particularly sweet. 

It makes me want to shut up -- and pay even closer attention to the Silence! 

Stay tuned!