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Practice Discussions

Yeah, so welcome again. It feels so still in the hall, and I'm inspired to say: if the gravity of the sitting practice is predominant, just keep that going and let all this just wash right through.

So, the topic for tonight I wanted to bring up is practice discussion. It occurred to me that we so rarely talk about practice discussion, so I wanted to offer some reflections. And first, to start, I wanted to recognize that there may be a range of degrees of experience with this. I know there are some in the room that have probably been doing practice discussion for decades, and some maybe never done it before.

To try to discuss the topic, knowing there's this broad range of experience, I thought I would begin with a story. It's one that's about good friendship in the form of practice discussion, and it comes out of Gil's^[1] book, A Monastery Within. It's called "Appropriate Instruction".

"One of the monastery's old monks had become a hermit, living deep in the mountains, a two-and-a-half-day hike over difficult mountain paths. Many visitors made the trek to receive advice and teachings from the old man. He was reputed to have an uncanny ability to know just what each visitor needed. Prior to giving instruction, the hermit asked that the visitor promise not to tell anyone what advice or instruction they received.

After the promise was made, the hermit would simply say, 'What are you not willing to pay attention to?' This was the only thing he would ever say to anyone asking his help. Many visitors were first perplexed by this question, but by the time they had walked the two-and-a-half-day trek out of the mountains, they invariably would praise the hermit for giving them just the instruction they needed to hear."

The story makes me so curious of all the different places and times we can apply the question: What are we not willing to pay attention to?

And I think of the person who must have been so motivated—motivated enough to trek for two and a half days into the difficult mountains to seek advice. What must have been going on in their lives? But something called to them, and they recognized this was a beneficial thing to do. And they sit down, they have this discussion or receive this comment. And then, something for me is like the two-and-a-half-day trek back out. It's like it worked. It worked the lesson, or it worked the question or the thought into the body just over and over on the walkout.

So I'm hoping we can look at practice discussion in terms of three things: practice discussion as a practice of recognizing what's wholesome, a practice of articulating and expressing in words, and then a practice of embodying spiritual maturity.

For anyone who hasn't done this before, in our Insight tradition, practice discussions are these one-on-one meetings between a practitioner and a teacher in the context of Dharma practice. One of the primary purposes is to recognize and reflect upon the teaching—the Dharma—that is apt for exactly your current experience. We sort of find that together and discover it together.

I think that from the perspective of the teacher, practice discussion provides that opportunity for a really good understanding of what's going on for someone, and to apply just the one right question, perhaps. And then from the perspective of the practitioner, it could be to receive support or clarification, to bolster confidence about the next step of the path, or even a practice in its own right of reporting on your experience—to try to report on your meditative experience and your inner landscape in your daily life.

These aspects, these skills and qualities that come to develop in practice discussion of recognizing, articulating, and embodying—of course, we develop them in other ways too. I think of our year-long Dharma programs where we move through with a cohort and we have Dharma discussion. We have small groups, or you have friends you get together with and have coffee and talk Dharma. So all that's here too, in the spirit of a good Dharma friendship.

Ancient Contexts and Forms

In the context of the tradition, way, way back in my textual memory, it occurred to me looking at the suttas—these ancient teachings of the Buddha—it seems like the vast majority of them are question and answer. It's almost like we have these really ancient records of people going and doing practice discussion with the Buddha. It's pretty amazing that that's available.

Most of them follow a similar format, or at least they have a similar frame. There is most of the time a sort of respectful approach, and then a formal greeting of some kind. Then someone will take their seat, and they'll bring up their topic. One of the most well-known collections of that is—Sujata^[2] was just teaching about this—the Parayana Vagga^[3], the chapter on "The Way to the Beyond." It is basically sixteen practice discussions that we get to read in on. And then also very well known, The Questions of King Milinda^[4], where the king is having this extended interview with the monk Nagasena.

Outside of the texts and real lived bodies and places in time, I think of the Theravada monasteries as also something of a model for us. In both my hearing and my visits to places like this, something I notice is that the interviews can sometimes be pretty informal. They kind of run the spectrum of formal and informal. Sometimes it's just like group tea with the abbot in the afternoon. It feels, maybe I can appropriately say, low stakes. But the abbot is just totally available, and if you have Dharma you want to bring up, a question you want to ask, they are there. So that's there in the background of our tradition also.

And then I'm also kind of delighted, there's one more image of monastic practice discussion where I've heard about a certain monastery where, during these intensive periods, the meditators will line up about one at a time. They'll just approach the teacher, ask their question, get their answer, and then the next person goes. But because they're all lined up like this, I would imagine the few people right there get to hear the Q&A, right? So it's not exactly private, but you're gleaning some of this Dharma wisdom from overhearing the Q&A.

So these ancient texts and these forms in the monasteries, they form some of the context for our form of practice discussion in the Insight movement and the Insight tradition. Of course, we have practice discussion on retreat and we have practice discussion off retreat.

Setting Ourselves at Ease

I want to address that for some, I have heard that practice discussion can kind of feel like a high-pressure situation. I don't know if anyone here has ever had that experience. It reminded me of this anecdote about Blanche Hartman. She was the first abbess of San Francisco's Zen Center, and she was describing what is a really formal meal ceremony that happens at Zen Center called Oryoki^[5]. Everything is prescribed. There's a detail for everything. It takes about an hour to eat lunch and wash your bowls and put them away. It's very, very common for someone doing this for the first time, or the first twenty times, to be really nervous about the details.

She set everyone at ease by saying, "All it is, we're going to unwrap our bowls, we're going to eat our food, and then we're going to wrap them up, and no one is going to die [Laughter] if things don't go according to plan."

So something as high stakes as a formal Zen meal was sort of set at ease. And I think looking at the structure of just how simple a practice discussion can be might also put us at ease. It's like we get in the room, we sit down, we discuss our topic, we say thank you, and then we go. It's just that easy.

When we look at the old texts, of course, we might see that it looks quite formal. There's this really great formulaic way that they talk about it. It goes like this: "Then a certain brahmin approached the Blessed One. Having approached the Blessed One, he exchanged friendly greetings. After pleasant conversation had passed between them, he sat to one side. Having sat to one side, the brahmin spoke to the Blessed One thus: 'What does the venerable Gotama assert? What does he preach?'"

It seems like there's this long wind-up to the question, a prescribed activity. Similar but abbreviated for the monastics, like Venerable Ananda went to see the Buddha, and it just says he approached the Blessed One, paid homage to him or paid respects, and then sat to one side, and then asked his question. These days, you just come right in. Come on in and have a seat. So after you've taken your seat, we get to discuss—or whoever you're there with, you get to discuss.

The thing that comes to my mind is another notion about sort of setting one at ease in practice discussion, and that is that the time is totally yours. The time totally belongs to the person coming to ask the question. Whatever feels alive, most relevant, most helpful for you right now, it's totally up to you.

I think of entering the room when I go see my mentors and teachers. I think of entering the room kind of like entering a field of gifts, like entering a field of dana^[6]. They're just there holding this open space where I can bring up whatever in the context of the Dharma. It's such a special thing. And in some of the best meetings, there's this simplicity. I imagine some of you have recognized this feeling, like actually nothing at all has to happen. There's nothing we have to accomplish through this conversation. Even if we just sat there in silence, that would be perfectly fine. Maybe that would be the best.

Wise Reflection and Receptivity

But say you do want to bring something up. I look again to the ancient texts, and there's a sort of formula for wise reflection. It takes a little bit of translation, I think, for most of us to apply it in our lives. When going to visit monastics and going to visit the Buddha in these old texts, the formula was something like: "What is it that's skillful? What is it that's unskillful? What's beneficial? What's not beneficial? And what, if I do it, would lead to my long-term harm, or what if I do it, would lead to my long-term benefit and happiness?"

So it's, at least in the texts here, focused around one's conduct, questions about one's conduct, one's practices, and then the qualities that develop out of that. That seems to be some of the focus of these discussions.

You know, for a long while I would go to practice discussion, and then of course I would leave when the practice discussion was over. But I didn't have any regular way of reflecting and thinking about it after the fact. I think it may have been years. It never really dawned on me, "Oh, you know, I'm going to write about this, I'm going to reflect on it, I'm going to see how I can really put this into action." I kind of just put myself into the practice discussion container and then I left. And I trusted that something was going on that was fruitful or something was continuing to work on me.

Until I remember going to a meeting once and asking, "Based on this conversation, what should I do?" A novel question. And the teacher said, "Oh, you know, I hope that you remember what we talked about. I hope you reflect on it and then make some decision about how you want to act on it." So he gave me this very clear way of integrating I hadn't known that was missing.

I think one of the things of immense value that can emerge out of such a simple form is the fact that practice discussion is a place where the Dharma, the theory, let's say, of Dharma, meets actual lives. Actual lives and the Dharma come together in the conversation. What's revealed if we meet in the spirit of the Dharma or meet in the context of the Dharma is our actual life, the tangible bits of this lived life, and how the Dharma reflects on that.

So in order to be available for that, something that I found really helpful over time was to invoke or invite a sort of sensitivity, to have a kind of attitude of sensitivity, so I could be receptive to the Dharma that was coming, or sort of open the channel and let the Dharma arise.

I think there are a host of really useful attitudes that might serve us in practice discussion. One is to be open to the possibility of something different, to recognize a possibility. I remember having a number of conversations where it almost felt like the teacher was just tossing out something in the moment that was like, "Wow, how obvious, I never thought of that." And it landed with a spark of inspiration and opening. And all of a sudden, it was like they loaned me their confidence for this new, beautiful possibility that I could then reflect upon and see if it opened up in my life.

The Power of Brevity

One more important comment, I think, is that even a brief exchange can be quite powerful. In the texts, we have the example, of course, of Venerable Sariputta^[7] awakening by the end of a four-line stanza. May it be so.

And I think of these little snippets. There are these questions and answers that end up being stories for us twenty, thirty, forty years later. There's this one well-known story in our circles, I think of Dipa Ma^[8], who had come, I think, to Spirit Rock, and someone asked her, "What is in your mind?" And she responded, "Loving-kindness, concentration, and peace."

And I still feel a "wow" in my heart, and she didn't even give that response to me. But it's brief, it's powerful, and it's still living in this talk.

The brevity can also be non-verbal. I've heard that U Pandita^[9] is known for the power of the raised eyebrow. The gestures can mean a lot.

Suzuki Roshi^[10], the founder of San Francisco Zen Center, is also pretty well known for this. Not the eyebrow, but the brief teaching. Another one of these pithy Q&As that sticks with me: someone asked him, "What is nirvana?" And he said, "Seeing one thing through to the end."

And how that lands. It must be, you know, let's say that was 1969, how many years ago was that conversation? That was just a guess, it might have been earlier. Anyway, I think through these exchanges, through these meetings, even if they're brief, we come to recognize something about what's skillful. And we get to see it being enacted right there with us. We're discovering the Dharma together.

Emptiness means one thing as a concept or in the abstract, but it's quite another to encounter it in a being—the Dharma living right there. And I think that teaches us something about how to bring it forward in our own lives or what's possible for us.

Checking Out Teachers and the Apprenticeship Metaphor

So having talked about receptivity, I think it also bears talking about the additional opportunity of checking out teachers. I think it's an interpretation of the Kalama Sutta^[11], the encouragement to really check out for a long time teachers in terms of: do you notice in their conduct greed, hatred, and delusion? I think please do. Please do that. I think it's for the health of the community, for all of us, not just for a one particular teacher-student relationship, but that we're sensitive to greed, hatred, and delusion and their opposites, practicing over and over their recognition. And then there's this other thing that sensitivity opens us up to, and that is whether there's affinity with a certain teacher.

So I think there are many ways to frame practice discussion or to frame the notion of who you're meeting with. I think for some folks it's thinking of visiting a teacher like a consultant. Others go seeking a guide. Others go explicitly seeking a teacher or supporter. One really fruitful way I've had of reflecting on this or thinking about it, with the teachers that I've connected with long-term, is thinking of them in a sort of apprenticeship relationship.

The more I dig into this metaphor, the more I really like it. Just the way we think about carpenters developing skill by watching very skilled carpenters or working with them. Or I think of musicians especially. When I think of someone with just talent, enthusiasm, and interest, and they're given a piece of sheet music. Okay, that takes you so far, that's like our written Dharma. Okay, now put this written Dharma into practice, play this sheet music. And with someone who really knows the cello, let's say, they can listen along and hear possibility, even if they're not being like, "Oh yes, great," and "No, no, no, that was terrible." They could be like, "Oh, I heard this in your interpretation. Have you thought about this? Have you considered this possibility?"

And in that way, you develop skill with this instrument, and it feels quite alive when I think about the Dharma in that way.

You know, we have the good fortune of having in our community people who have practiced for a very long time. And coming into conversation and discussing, "Hey, this is what I'm thinking about skillfulness and unskillfulness. This is my situation. This is how I'm practicing. This is what I'm seeing." And bringing them into that, bringing in our good Dharma friends.

One of the other pieces I really like about the apprenticeship metaphor is that this pointer to have practice discussion with someone from whom you're willing to receive input seems obvious. But someone whose feedback you're willing to hear and consider, for obvious reasons.

Kalyanamitta: Admirable Friendship

Maybe one more thing, thinking about practice discussion specifically in terms of kalyanamitta^[12], admirable friendship or good spiritual friendship. In learning to recognize good Dharma friendship and looking at the texts, very interesting, there's an opposite. It's not really "bad spiritual friendship," but it's this word that one of its meanings is "infertile," like infertile soil. I find that evocative. What friendships, what connections, what conversations are nourishing the soil of my practice? And how can I care for those and develop them?

In the Therigatha^[13], Kisagotami's^[14] poem, she says: "Associating with an admirable friend, even a fool becomes wise." Later on: "Associating with people of integrity, one would be released from all suffering and stress, would know stress, the origination of stress, cessation, and the Eightfold Path, the Four Noble Truths."

I'm encouraged by this, and how our good friendship—and tonight in terms of practice discussion—that movement supports our growth in our discernment of the Four Noble Truths, our realization of the Four Noble Truths, our walking the path to peace, and that we don't have to do it alone.

So maybe in the last minute or so I'll just say, for those who don't know, at IMC a couple of the easiest ways to engage in practice discussion: daylongs usually on Saturdays, and then Wednesday half-days, there are sign-up practice discussions for both of those. At Insight Retreat Center, they're folded into the schedule, so that's part of what goes on. And then there are various days where small group or individual practice discussions happen on Zoom. You can check all that out on the IMC website and find an opportunity to recognize the Dharma together, to articulate the Dharma, and to embody it. To take part in this joyful path.

So to close with just a simple wish, I think: may it be that all of our encounters nourish our practice, and may all beings everywhere grow in wisdom and compassion and be free from suffering. Yeah, thank you. And I skipped a fair amount so we could be sure to have some conversation or questions or comments or stories. Whatever you'd like.

Q&A

Practitioner 1: Thank you, Kodo. First, thank you for this question. I've often asked the question about what I should be discussing during our practice discussions, and I've never really gotten it. So, going to the suttas, I'm wondering if you can say... you know, in the suttas they always talk about greeting Gotama with reverence and then sitting to the side. It seems that they're always sitting to the side, and I'm wondering is that... I don't know what that means. Does it seem confrontational to sit directly across? Or do you know what the relevance of sitting to the side means?

Kodo Conlin: Yeah, it's a really good question. I'm not so sure about its meaning within the context of ancient India. I could guess about some things, but they wouldn't be grounded in any kind of evidence. Yeah, if anyone here knows...

Practitioner 2: Well, this is entirely speculation, but in many places it's considered disrespectful to show the bottom of your feet to somebody. Certainly in some of the Pacific Islands. But I've had a monk at the monastery point out to me that I was sitting with the bottom of my feet pointing towards him, and I didn't know that that was a breach of etiquette. So that might possibly be part of it.

Kodo Conlin: Sure, sure. I'm curious. Same thing extends to altars, I think, Buddha statues.

Practitioner 3: I wanted to thank you for your talk. I'm in a couple of kalyanamitta groups, and we share. People take turns each week or each meeting offering a prompt question, some kind of question that's relevant for them. And it often turns out to be very relevant to everyone else as well, because it's somebody else's question, but it might be something that's a little bit of a blind spot. So the sharing of questions in a group like that can often deepen inquiry.

Kodo Conlin: Yeah, I appreciate that. And it sparked something for me when you used the word "blind spot." That seems to be, in my observation over the years, one of the most important functions of keeping up a practice discussion connection with someone who you can really trust in terms of the Dharma: to kindly point out your blind spots because we all have them. So we entrust ourselves to our kalyanamitta, and our teachers, and our Dharma friends to help us see these things.

Well, I want to say thank you and just to appreciate our time to sit and talk. Maybe it's the dogwoods outside, there's something really soft and lovely in the meditation hall tonight, and I want to appreciate being here with you. So thank you for having me. May our practice certainly benefit us and benefit everyone we know and all those beings we don't know. May all beings benefit.