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Doing What's Meaningful

Good morning again. I'd like to say a few words beginning with something that's obvious, and then maybe unpack it and look underneath it a little bit. Look at some of the underlying beliefs we have, or some of the behaviors we have, maybe into what's less obvious.

The obvious part is that it takes energy. It takes a certain amount of effort to practice, to come to the cushion when we really don't feel like it, to listen to a Dharma talk with a certain amount of engagement, or to read a Dharma book as more than just entertainment, but more as a way to allow it to touch us. Whether we feel the Dharma talk is excellent or terrible, or the book is awful or good, it is a way that we can engage with it and allow our heart to be touched, and maybe learn something.

It takes energy to meditate when we're feeling restless or troubled, and the last thing we want to do is sit down and be quiet, allowing some of these emotions to come up. To be sure, sometimes it's wise to not sit in the midst of overwhelming experiences. Sometimes it is wise and sometimes it isn't; we each have to find our way with that. But we all have to do the work of this practice, to spend the energy ourselves, as nobody else can do it for us. Even the Buddha, of course, gave a number of talks in which people had transformative experiences. But many times he also said something—I'm paraphrasing, of course—like, "I show you the way, but you have to do the work."

Because we have human bodies and minds, we don't have unlimited energy. So part of the art of practice is how we can apply the energy that we have in a way that is sustainable and balanced, in a way that supports us instead of drains us, or use energy in a way that helps create more energy. I think perhaps many of you are familiar with the analogy the Buddha gives of Sona^[1], the lute player. I don't really know what a lute is, but I think it's a stringed instrument, maybe similar to a guitar—that's the general idea. The Buddha tells Sona that just like we tune a lute—or a guitar—so that the strings are not too tight so that they break, and not too loose so that there isn't music coming forth, we tune them so they have the right amount of tension in them.

Just as with a guitar, you don't just tune it once and then you're finished and never have to tune it again. In the same way with us, noticing how much energy we're applying is something we need to continually keep an ear out for. We need to notice when there's a little bit too much energy and when there's not enough energy, or notice if the manner in which we're applying energy is sustainable for us. It's more of an invitation to listen: listen to our bodies, listen to our hearts, listen to our minds, and recognize in each moment what is too tight and too loose. The manner in which we are paying attention—is it more like a sledgehammer, or is it more like a feather? Recognize when there might need to be a little bit more, and a little bit less.

Applying energy towards our practice requires that there's some feedback, that there's interest. We have to put aside alternatives and instead stay with our experience, tuning into our experience of experiencing. We need to get over any ideas we might have that transformation or lasting personal development can take place without any energy, just sitting down and occasionally bringing our minds to the breath^[2]. That has benefit, it absolutely has benefit, but if what we're looking for is some real personal transformation or development, it does require the right amount of energy.

In order for our practice to be sustained, it needs to be meaningful for us. It needs to have some level of importance, because without this meaningfulness it can run dry; it can feel like it runs into a brick wall. Have you noticed that your energy increases when you're doing something that you love, participating in something that's really meaningful to you, or that you're devoted to or really care about? There are a lot of people who volunteer as part of IMC, and for many of them—I haven't talked to all of them, of course, but for many of them—they describe how it's meaningful for them, how it's uplifting and supports their practice. The energy is there to do some of the work, even when it's not always fun or glamorous. Maybe it's completely one hundred percent behind the scenes and they don't even get any recognition for it, but because it's meaningful for them and important for them to participate in what we're all creating here together, the energy is there.

So you can ask yourself: What is meaningful for you? What depth or kind of happiness would I like to have in my life? What am I devoted to? What's really important to me? With what joy do I wish to align my life? This, of course, could be a whole Dharma talk on its own. But just recognize that how much energy we have available is connected to whether what we're putting our energy towards is meaningful for us.

Of course, we have to do things in our lives that maybe don't have direct meaning. Is there a way that we can make them meaningful? That is, can we fold them into our practice? For me right now, there are a lot of things happening where I'm living. Specifically, there's demolition and a reconstruction of the building I'm living in while I'm there. It's part of a bigger project that started way before this. When the sounds make me feel, let's say, constricted, I think, "Oh yes, this is why I've been doing practices: to meet things that are difficult without falling into aversion that becomes unskillful." Instead, can I meet this in a way that I bring my practice to it? Can I bring open-heartedness to this? Can I act in a way that is wise and supportive for me, and for everybody—for the people who own the building and need to take care of it?

As practice develops, the meaningfulness of what we're doing grows; the meaningfulness of our practice grows. Certainly for me at the beginning of my meditation practice, and studying the Dharma and studying the suttas^[3], my sense of what role that had in my life was really vague and not clear. It was pretty narrow too, mostly around, "How can I feel better?" Which is perfectly fine. This is how so many of us first find the Dharma, with some underlying suffering that brings us here. But chances are that as you practice, you're discovering that the meaningfulness, or what's important about the practice, becomes more clear and becomes more important. It becomes about not only finding greater ease and freedom for ourselves, but supporting others, serving others in their freedom and finding greater ease and happiness.

It can be really helpful to tap into what is meaningful for us in general, and specifically what is meaningful for us about our practice—whether that's a meditation practice, Dharma practice, or Buddhist practice, in whatever way that shows up for you. To tap into and feel into the role it has in your life, and to connect with it in a warm-hearted way. We do this with the recognition that the meaning or our aspirations may change, evolve, and grow. What is it now that you can align with? And then, this idea of connecting with it with a certain heartfulness, with wholeheartedness, as opposed to just intellectually. "Okay, yes, I want to have a little bit more ease, therefore I need to meditate" is just something that we cognitively understand. But can there be a way in which you experience, "Yes, I can see that sitting regularly has some momentum that really supports me, not only in my meditation practice but bleeds out into other areas of my life"?

So can we connect what's important for us and our practice in a way that has some wholeheartedness, warm-heartedness, or heartfulness in some way that's not just the mind? Maybe it's the body also. I'm using this word "heart," but we can also use the word "body," in which our whole body feels aligned with what's important for us. Maybe we feel it as a certain amount of alignment, that is, some brightness.

But not only do we need to be aligned with our aspirations and connected with them in a wholehearted or whole-being way, not just with our minds, but we also need to believe that our aspirations are achievable. If we think, "Yes, I want to have greater ease and freedom," but we don't think it's possible for us, then we won't be applying the right amount of energy. We might just be doing it half-heartedly.

So it's worthwhile to examine some of our underlying beliefs. Do we think it's even possible for us to achieve, for example, greater freedom, greater ease? I would say it is possible. I know it certainly has been for me, and chances are that you are seeing the effects of a meditation or Dharma practice. We shouldn't lose sight of the changes, the benefits, and some of the outcomes that are arising as a consequence of a regular practice. We must recognize that whenever we learn anything—whether it's meditation, playing the piano, driving a car, tying our shoelaces—it takes time and a certain amount of consistent energy or effort. We always start as a beginner. So investigate some of your underlying beliefs, whether you think it's even possible to learn more, or to have more settledness in your meditation, for example, or more open-heartedness, compassion, love, or ease. If you do find ideas that your capacities are limited, or what's possible for you is limited, just bring to mind that we've learned many things in our lives. All of us have learned simple things and complicated things, and we can learn this too.

This idea of aligning with our aspirations or what's important to us can get a little bit tricky if we have the sense that there's a goal we have to achieve—that there's some place else that I'm supposed to be, or want to be, and instead I'm here. Implicit in having a goal is a certain amount of dissatisfaction with the way things are. It's just natural, that's how it is. But often, implicit in a goal is the suggestion of a measurement. The goal is over there and I'm over here. Whenever there's measurement, the self-view shows up and lands in the middle of the inner critic: "I'm not there yet," "I haven't reached the goal, but they have," "Maybe I can't even do it, but clearly they have," or "I used to be able to do this, but now I can't."

It's enormously helpful to pay attention to this inner critic. Whenever measurement happens, which implies comparing, there's often a strong sense of self: "I'm here and you are there," or "I'm here and I used to be there." Whichever type of comparing it is, it's always uncomfortable. Whenever there are goals, there's often this feeling of measurement, which leads to a feeling of comparing, which leads to a feeling of "I'm not good enough" in some way. The answer is not to never have goals. That's not the answer. It could be one particular way we address it, but that leads us to having a very limited life, having a limited view, experience, or idea of what's possible for us.

Instead of this idea of a goal, can we use it more like a North Star? I think many of us don't expect to get to the North Star, but we use it to guide us. We use it to point the direction in which to go. So the question then becomes: What do I need to do next? What is the next step? That's it. Just what's the next tiny little step? As opposed to falling into the idea of "I can't, the goal is way over there and I can't do it." Instead, we can use it as something to support us in our practice, as opposed to something that feeds our inner critic and creates the conditions for feelings of insufficiency or self-loathing.

I'll end with this. To have energy that is aligned is to behave and act in a way that's aligned with our aspirations. In order for this energy to support us, we need to believe that our actions have consequences. Of course our actions have consequences, and intellectually we all understand this. But it might be that sometimes we forget, or maybe we don't apply this awareness thoroughly to absolutely everything that's happening. We might think, "Well, it doesn't matter that I'm secretly harboring this hatred towards whatever or whomever it might be." Of course, hatred never leads to anything that is supportive and good.

We might feel like just coming to sit for this one day, this one morning, isn't going to affect our lives, but of course it does. We all know that mindfulness practice and meditation practice builds momentum, and each little step contributes to that momentum. Everything we do contributes to the habits of our lives. Our lives are a collection of habits. Sitting to meditate, eating well, exercising—all these things that we know are supportive for us, each time we do them, even in a really small way, helps to undermine the inner critic. It helps to undermine some of our habits of not taking care of ourselves.

So in order to sustain our energy for our practice, there's a number of different things we can do, including really looking at our underlying beliefs about the difference we can make, what's possible for us, and what's meaningful for us. If we can align with these things and gain some clarity, we'll find that there is energy. Maybe it's not the exact amount exactly when we want it, but this is the most beautiful thing to do with our lives: to apply our energy in a way that is meaningful for us and that makes a difference for us. This, of course, allows us to make a difference in the whole world, to support others, and maybe to heal some of the brokenness that we're seeing in the world, some of this brokenness that we're feeling in the world.

May our time together, our practice in whatever form it takes, be for the benefit of all beings everywhere. All beings without exception, without exception. Thank you.