what if it was going to be like this forever, and there was nothing you could do

Today I was pondering one of my favorite pointers, and noticing how its usefulness is both enduring and ever changing.

The pointer was first given to me by my teacher when I was having a period of difficult meditation: constant distraction, monkey mind, inability to concentrate, sleepiness and so on. It went on intermittently for weeks.

One day he said: "What if there was just going to be horrible monkey mind for the rest of your life, and there was nothing you could do about it?"

To which my first response was: "I'd throw myself out the window!"
And then I thought a moment and said: "I guess I'd have to get used to it..." and I turned to that teaching again and again in the days that followed. At the time it really pointed to the fact that there wasn't "good meditation" and "bad meditation" - if there was monkey mind, that's what there was, and if there was sleepiness, there was sleepiness.

But I remember at a point later when I was sitting with a lot of really unpleasant energy and weird physical sensations and dizziness and altered states, the teaching came up again. I think I reminded myself of it. And I noticed that this time the part that jumped out at me was "and there was nothing you could do about it". I realized all this stuff was just carrying on, doing its thing, and there was really absolutely nothing I could do about it. And that was a big change for me, the first time I felt a really strong sense that I had to surrender to the process.

I still remind myself of that teaching sometimes. It's one of my favorites. I think it's variation on a traditional zen koan. Does it resonate with any of you? Or do you have other favorites?

That resonates deeply for me Ona. It really invites an approach to difficult experiences in which one has to examine one's relationship to the experience in the present moment instead of the typical approach of re-arranging circumstances into a more pleasing configuration.

This was actually a crucial issue for me in finally returning to college last fall after nearly ten years. I have huge anxiety and distress issues which arise in school environments and it occurred to me long ago that a) I would never "get to the bottom" of those issues outside of that environment, as those buttons wouldn't be pushed, and b) that being the case, those issues would (barring a miraculous transformation) always accompany any return to school. And even if I DID go back and come to understand the issues, there was no guarantee that this would lead to symptom relief. So this question was a totally vivid one for me (and still is).

There is something deeply empowering about... well, befriending one's demons I guess you could say. What if it is going to be like this forever? Then I'd better make "this" my friend. I'd better be friendly and kind with "this". Patient and open to "this".

In the spring semester, in the midst of a deep tumultuous ocean of anxiety, I finally did catch a deep glimpse of what was at the bottom of "it" and something shifted. But the shift came from six months of steadily being with "it" as if it would always be "this way". I wonder what "it" will be like when I go back in a few weeks? However it is, I've learned that whatever is going on and however I feel about it, I do have the capacity to learn to befriend it all. No matter how bad it gets or how long it lasts!

Now THAT is my idea of pragmatic! Something serviceable under any circumstances.

That's interesting. It is such a useful pointer in so many different contexts.

This morning I awoke with anxiety and fussiness in my head. It seems to come from physical discomfort sometimes - my back hurt and I was too warm. There are so many ways to look at that then. I looked at the physical stuff for a while, since that seemed to be at the root of the mental fussing. Then I looked at the mental fussing, but there never seems to be much to find, the fusses just vanish when I look at them. Then I looked at the fact that I was not liking the fussing, watching the little flickers of aversion. That seemed somehow useful and important. Weirdly there was a sort of pleasure in the aversion. I think I said before and Eran (I think) agreed, that clinging and aversion are closely related. (Meanwhile I had had my coffee and was out for my morning walk/jog and so on). But amidst all that there's also "just this."

The mind is a strange thing.

I had a similar moment of "it's just like this forever and there's nothing I can do" not too long ago. I was talking to my therapist and was reflecting on how this or that in my life is a process that is evolving and in constant change. Then I realized that the reason that made me feel uncomfortable was that I was looking (as is my nature) for somewhere stable to stop and sit for a while but there's no such place. There never was such a place and there never will be. It's all just a process. It's all constantly evolving and changing and there's nothing I can do about it. Seeing my entire life that way, even for a moment, was kinda scary and maybe a bit exhilarating too.