The annual retreat of Bodhicharya Ireland
was held, as has become habitual, in this well-situated and welcoming house
belonging to the Holy Ghost Congregation, near Navan in Co. Meath. Seventeen
The silence began as we retired for the
night, and continued until midday the following day; a fruitful silence,
however, which, while stilling the chatter, allowed the present moment to
become full and vibrant. With such an approach, everyday activities such as
eating become practices in themselves. Not that the ‘chatter’ could be any less
rewarding, and the exchanges over meals and during rest periods allowed us to
get to know each other better and were, for the new members of the group, an
essential way to feel included.
Walking in the woodland park that surrounds
the lake, one of the joys of ‘An Tobar’, partook also of this dual function:
sometimes it was a venue for the walking meditation which formed an optional
part of every meditation session, sometimes an occasion for personal exchange.
The wildlife – birds, small animals – was a source of delight, featuring in the
literary productions which were a notable by-product of this retreat.
The introductory session on the first
evening went straight to the point, as Dónal presented the journey of enquiry
into our own minds that was the purpose of our coming together. Particularly in
the Mahamudra and Dzogchen, he told us, the central issue is the nature of the
self; if we understand the nature of mind, we cut through the ignorance that is
our samsaric condition. The goal is the realisation of the natural state,
unfabricated, and the flowering of our natural goodness, which is the true
meaning of being human. It is not a question of achieving a state that is
fundamentally different from what we are, but rather realising what is there
already. Such a state is true liberation, and depends only on our minds, on the
way we interpret our experiences, which we normally interpret as ‘good’ or
‘bad’.
At this point Dónal also explained briefly
the purpose of the ‘Dialogue’ sessions which would take place every evening.
Essentially, these were to be an exploration of questions that concern us – in
this case, given the overall theme of the retreat, we would explore firstly the
question of ‘hurt’ – without pre-judgement or reference to previous knowledge
or to outside authority. This approach is not separate from meditation, in
fact: in Dialogue, I just look, without preconceptions regarding the object of
my looking; in insight meditation, I proceed without previous knowledge of what
I’m contemplating. It’s the same uncontrived movement from complexity to
simplicity.
The following day, Dónal established the
routine that was to become our daily journey for the following six days: at
6.45am, an hour’s personal meditation before breakfast, then the rest of the
day split into sessions, each of one-and-a-half hour’s duration, where one
half-hour was usually dedicated to walking meditation. During the first
session, Dónal went through the basics: the importance of posture – without letting
this become an obsession, simply acknowledging the intimate association of mind
and body – and then the essentials of meditation which he defined as something
ultimately very simple:
Don’t follow thought of the past
Don’t invite thoughts about the future
Just rest with the present.
He emphasised that it is not a question of
suppressing thoughts, rather of not following them. We must be aware of
thoughts when they arise, but then rest naturally with them. To aid focussing
the attention, the meditator can either concentrate on the whole body, resting
naturally with whatever comes up, or on the breath, not seeking to change it in
any way
That is the first (‘shiné’) stage of
meditation, but ‘first’ only in the sense that until your mind is quiet, you
can have no hope of seeing it truly as it is. There is then a second stage, ‘lhaktong’,
or ‘insight’, where the meditator examines the thoughts or phenomena that have
arisen. What does it mean to ‘rest the mind’? During this stage, it is
important not to try and draw conclusions, or define the thoughts. You must
just look at your experience, without altering it. And look at the resting
mind, framing the question ‘What is this mind? How is it? What is happening to
it?’ If the mind is confused, don’t judge, just note that fact.
In this approach to meditation, the
Mahamudra, thought is thus not something to be banished, and the arising of
thoughts is not to be looked on as failure. Rather, thoughts are to be
harnessed as part of the process of looking at the mind. You work with what is
there. Lest there were a danger of our thinking becoming solidified, however,
Dónal gave us a teaching one afternoon on the Heart Sutra, the ‘Essence of
Transcendent Knowledge’, in which Avalokiteshvara (Chenrezi), speaking for the
Buddha, gives Shariputra a teaching on emptiness and the interdependence of all
phenomena.
In the course of the week, during the
meditation sessions as well as outside of them, we endeavoured to put into
practice these precepts and principles, realising that ultimately each person was
on his or her own, and that the Path was a matter of experience, not the
following of codified rules of practice. Interestingly, however, the set
routine for each day helped rather than hindered this openness of approach.
After the meditation sessions, tea, and
then Dialogue. Discussion of this kind, without reference to outside authority,
previous personal experience or anecdote, without looking for a remedy to what
would normally be looked on as a problem, or even a conclusion to the
discussion, is more difficult than you might think; the mundane mind’s need for
clarity of purpose, a road-map and the sense of having arrived (or not) at the
destination is sometimes overwhelming. But these were useful exchanges, if only
that they demonstrated the multifarious ways in which the mind works, and the
numerous subterfuges it adopts to try and dig itself unsuccessfully out of a
hole.
Then, after supper, Chenrezi or Metta
practice, both devoted to the cultivation of loving-kindness and compassion, in
which the bringing to mind of known individuals going through particularly
acute suffering, and thence to the whole universe of beings, prevented the
moment from becoming inward-looking.
On the last evening, after Chenrezi, we sat
round informally for a sing-song, which included the reading and reciting of
texts, either published or springing immediately from the week’s experiences
together. It was apparent that the atmosphere had been conducive to creative
effort, the fruits of which were always relevant and enjoyable, sometimes
humorous, sometimes more sober and reflective. A fitting end to the retreat.
For a truly inspirational week, we would
like to thank the Holy Ghost Congregation for their welcome; Annie, Eimear and
Eddie for the efficiency of their organisation of all practical details; the
alchemist-in-the-kitchen Colette whose ability to turn disparate ingredients
into delicious and sustaining meals never ceased to amaze; and most of all
Dónal for sharing his wisdom with us with such generosity of spirit, for his
constant encouragement, and for guiding us patiently on the Path.
May all beings have happiness.
Pat Little
24.vii.15
