“The moment in front of you is not bothering you. You are bothering yourself about the moment in front of you.” – Michael Singer, Living Untethered.
Yesterday I was driving home from my friend’s cottage. There was major traffic on the highway and, as we slowed to a crawl, it seemed like I inevitably found myself in the slowest lane. It was like the universe was testing me. And I failed miserably! I got so frustrated. I knew I could make another choice and just relax my body and release the grasping to get home sooner rather than later. But my mind didn’t want to let go. It wanted to get home. And so my heart remained closed. Vive la résistance!
As this experience shows, the mind tends to treat the outer world as the primary determinant of our inner state, believing happiness depends primarily on external circumstances. When our outer world is not as we want, the mind tricks us into thinking we can’t be happy.
I can easily get lost in my mind. While that is sometimes amusing, it most often doesn’t take me where I want to go. Don’t get me wrong, the mind is a wonderful thing! It got us to the moon. It’s how we produce enough food to feed 8 billion people. But, as the saying goes, “the mind is a wonderful servant, but a terrible master.”
That’s where the body comes in. Body is always in the present moment. When I’m aware of bodily sensations I have some space from my mind, some perspective on it. I don’t get tricked so easily. And from a clear mind comes an open heart.
That’s why Thich Nhat Hanh called constant, 24/7 awareness of breath the “basic practice”. I know some people find focusing on the breath causes anxiety, and it’s perfectly fine to focus elsewhere in the body or on other sensations, like sound. For me, when I’m aware of when I’m breathing in and when I’m breathing out, my body naturally relaxes. No effort is required. And from that place of ease, the idea that I can’t be happy with what’s going on becomes much less persuasive.
A few years ago, I was taking a Zoom course with 70,000 other participants. The presenter called my name, asked me to breathe naturally, and then used me as an example of how NOT to breathe. It didn’t feel great at the time, being singled out, but it turned out to be a real gift.
The presenter told me I was breathing into my chest, while the healthy way to breathe is with my belly. The chest is constrained by the rib cage, so it’s difficult to expand. Also, the lungs are smaller at the top. The belly expands easily, and this fills the lower part of the lungs, which are bigger. Belly breathing is how babies breathe. So I made a concerted effort and managed to shift to belly breathing. It felt so much better, relaxation instead of tension.
Six months later, during a retreat with the Consciousness Explorers Club, I noticed an awful tension in my solar plexus. Fear had arisen, and I had reverted to chest breathing. I shifted my attention to my belly and focused on the resistance to feeling the fear and tension. I set a strong intention to let the fear and tension in, to drop any effort to defend. Thankfully, my mind was calm, so it was easy to keep the focus on my body, and not get pulled into thinking. I had to let go of wanting anything to be different than it was. After all, you can’t change the present moment. You can only let it in or resist it.
Letting it in is partly my doing and partly grace. What helps me a lot is to bring love to the fear. I say things like “I know you only want to protect me, but there’s nothing here I need protection from.” I know that to be true because if grace shines upon me, and that energy comes in, it doesn’t actually feel unpleasant at all. Quite the opposite!
In 2014, I was at Plum Village, lucky enough to attend one of Thich Nhat Hanh’s last retreats before his stroke. Affectionately known as Thây (teacher in Vietnamese), he talked about using the breath as an anchor, and combining it with your steps and a gatha, or mindfulness verse. The idea is that with every step on an in-breath, you say a few words, and then other words on the out-breath. He gave the example “breathing in, I know I am walking to my hammock. Breathing out, every step is nirvana.” And in short form, “walking to my hammock, every step nirvana.”
I’d heard Thây talk about using gathas and conscious breathing hundreds of times, and practiced it for many years. Such a simple practice. And I’d watched him do everything in mindfulness. Every breath, every step. And I’d often thought to myself, “that’s what he’s teaching us, but his practice is deeper.”
Until it hit me. This is his practice. This is why he’s a Zen master. There is nothing deeper. And the portal opened.
I walked back to my hamlet in a state of bliss, looking with wonder at everything and everyone, effortlessly aware of my breath and body. And I thought “this is the secret to life.” I don’t need to rush or worry any more. All the things I want are unnecessary for happiness. I can let go of it all, and just be present with each breath and each step. I’ve never been able to do that before, but now I see clearly that there’s nothing to attain.
Then I got back to my hamlet, started talking, and the portal closed.
“Be yourself. Life is precious as it is. All the elements for your happiness are already here. There is no need to run, strive, search, or struggle. Just be. Just being in the moment in this place is the deepest practice of meditation.” – Thich Nhat Hanh
Since then, I’ve put great effort into awareness of breath and body, including using gathas (which also plant positive seeds in your mind.) I’ve done retreats with Shinzen, self-inquiry, Tibetan awareness of awareness, and Mickey Singer’s “relax and release” practice (which is the “how” of letting go). And they all take me to the same place – an effortless awareness of the present moment.
And so back and forth I go, nirvana one moment, fretting about traffic the next. As Thây used to say, we’re all part-time Buddhas.
Note: This article first appeared in the newsletter of the Consciousness Explorers Club.