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Guided Meditation (59) Observing Experience

Warm greetings from Redwood City.

As we continue this series on mindfulness of breathing, the mindfulness practice has both a deliberate side—that which is active, that we do—and a non-deliberate side—that which is passive, that we allow for. The balance between those two shifts and changes as the practice goes along.

Certainly, if a person has never heard of meditation before, maybe reads a book about it and says, "I'm going to meditate," they have to actively put themselves into a meditation posture and get themselves started. They must change the momentum of their mind from what they have been doing. Now the momentum of the mind is to be present without a lot of thinking about things or reacting to things. They need some ability to stay present in a very simple way with something like the breathing—just staying on the breathing. There is a deliberateness to that; an active quality that needs to be there.

As the practice deepens, or as we are able to stay more and more in the present moment, less of this deliberateness is needed. It's almost as if the deliberateness has set in motion the letting go of all the distracting forces, all the different things we might be doing. So now we're at rest, staying here, present, and we don't need any more deliberateness in it.

To borrow from an ancient metaphor: if the sheep have scattered all over the mountainside, a shepherd deliberately travels around the mountains searching, trying to find the sheep to gather them together. There's a deliberateness and an active looking for those sheep. Once all the sheep have been gathered and brought back down by the river to the core pasture area, and they're happily eating in the pasture, then the shepherd can lean back against the trunk of a tree in the shade on a warm day, looking out across the pasture.

Then, there's not much deliberateness in the looking anymore. There's not much intent to search and find the sheep. Now the shepherd can just sit back and gaze in a more receptive, open, passive way. Rather than looking for the sheep, the shepherd is content just to see the sheep, to allow the seeing to happen without needing to search or be intentional.

It is the same way with mindfulness practice. Initially, there's an active quality of deliberateness: training, coming back, focusing, being there. With time, everything gets gathered together. All the disparate parts of ourselves that have been lost up in the mountains and wandering around have been gathered together and brought back to the pasture where they can eat what's nourishing and supportive.

The Buddha called mindfulness—when it's really gathered in and centered on the body, the feelings, the mind, and the mental processes^[1]—to be a pasture for the meditator. When everything is gathered together here and now, what we can do is not be so active. We just observe. There's seeing, but no looking, in the sense that looking is the active engagement of the eyes, and seeing is just what happens when we allow the eyes to operate. It is like the difference between listening, which is active, and hearing, which doesn't have to be active; we just hear something without trying to hear it.

So the emphasis today is to begin appreciating the way in which mindfulness can be a passive, receptive quality that doesn't require so much work. It's not so deliberate, because deliberateness has brought us to the point where we can let go of that deliberateness. At this point, the Buddha actually uses the language of observing. Just observe.

This is the direction we go today in the meditation.

Guided Practice

Take a comfortable, upright posture. Upright meaning engaged and intentional—a deliberate posture, even if you are laying down.

Take some long, slow, deliberate breaths. A deliberate way, a deliberate ritual almost, of turning towards this experience here and now. And deliberately, as you exhale, relax the body. Settle in.

Take a deep breath in, and then settle into this body. Let your breathing return to normal.

As you exhale, deliberately bring your attention to different parts of your body, and actively relax those parts. Sometimes a sense of deliberateness is a way of being definitive, or clear that this is what I'm going to do now: to be here in the present moment.

Bring the attention to the face, relaxing on the exhale all the muscles of the face. Soften around the eyes. If the eyes are trying to look, intentionally searching for something, maybe let the eyes rest. Soften the eyes in their sockets.

As you exhale, soften the chest. Bring the attention to the shoulders. Soften the shoulders.

Bring the attention to the belly. As you exhale, soften the belly.

Then bring the attention to the global body. Whatever way is easy for you to have a global awareness of the body, feel it. As you exhale, relax the body.

There can be a deliberateness around the mind as well. Bring your attention to the mind, where you feel the mental activity and thinking the most. As you exhale, soften the mind to quiet the mental activities, calming the thinking mind.

Part of the reason we get pulled into distractions is because there's some emotional force—emotions that are pushing us in a direction, or evoking the thoughts. Whatever anxiety there might be, see if you can relax it and soften in a way that's reassuring to yourself: "It's okay to be here, relaxed."

If there's excitement, or desires, aversions, resentments, or annoyances that are driving your thinking, on the exhale perhaps you can gently, lovingly settle those. Quiet those.

Then, settle into your breathing. Deliberately, maybe even lovingly, turn your attention over to the experience of the body breathing. Make room in your body for the body to breathe just the way it does. Lots of room to breathe. The breathing is breathing itself. Whatever way you're breathing is okay. Make room for it, feel it, hang in there with it.

Imagine that you're at ease, resting against the trunk of a tree, looking out upon a pasture, an expanse. Simply see the breathing in a receptive, allowing, non-deliberate way. Receptive from the kind of observation that doesn't interfere with what's being seen. Seeing just allows the breathing to be as it is, simply as something to be seen, to be observed. Like a naturalist would observe animals in nature without disturbing them, just observing them without judging them. Just observing.

Settle down, settle back, and observe the inhales and the exhales, allowing everything else around you to settle down and relax. All you need to do is to observe your breathing.

When your mind wanders off, intentionally, deliberately bring it back. When you're back, see if you can relax the deliberateness. Just sit back and watch. Observe the breathing. Observe your experience in the present moment as an uninvolved, non-interfering observer. Just observing.

Reflections

When we are actively, intentionally, and deliberately looking, we might not notice the things we're not looking for. But when we're seeing—settling back, opening up, relaxing—we might see a wider range of things. The observing might be broader and more inclusive.

As we come to the end of this sitting, I'd like to say the same thing is true for love. As wonderful as intentional, deliberate love and acts of love can be, there is loving which is not so deliberate or intentional. It's more of an open field, like observing the scenery. There's something about love, when it's not directed, not so deliberate, that can grow wide and broad and encompass so much more than what we are directing our love towards.

And so, with our goodwill, bring these two together: love and observation. Settling back and just observing the layout, the scenery in a broad, open, non-interfering way can make room for our love to be the same—broad, expansive, encompassing without interfering, without directing, without needing. Sitting with our back against the trunk of the tree, looking out across the pasture with a love, a goodwill, a kindness for it all. The full expanse of love.

In the last moments of this sitting, perhaps you can feel your way to a kindness, goodwill, or love which needs nothing from others, which is secure in itself, that can just be broad and encompassing. A broad and non-interfering kindness and goodwill, expressed in the words:

May all beings be happy. May all beings be safe. May all beings be peaceful. May all beings be free.

Resting in this kind of goodwill, may we deliberately express it in some of the details of our contact with other people. May we live this day for the benefit of others, and for ourselves.