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Guided Meditation: R.A.F.T.

Good evening, welcome.

It's nice to be here, to be practicing together. And whether you're listening to this live or in the future, it's nice to practice with others.

So I'll do a little bit of a guided meditation here.

Settling into our seat.

Maybe feeling both the pressure of the chair or cushion—maybe like the gravity pulling us down—as well as the uprightness kind of pulling us up. Both movements in balance.

And feeling the body breathing. That is, the movement of the abdomen, the chest, or the air going in and out of the nose.

Just noticing how it feels to have an in-breath, and how it feels to have an out-breath.

Nothing in particular needs to be happening; we're just noticing the sensations of breathing.

And when the mind wanders, just very simply, gently, begin again.

So, again and again, returning to the sensations of breathing.

It turns out there is absolutely no limit—none—to how many times we can return to the sensations of breathing.

And when we find that it's not so easy to stay with the sensations of breathing, or there is something compelling—maybe an emotional state—it can be really helpful to just simply recognize what's happening. To name it.

"Oh, here's restlessness." "Here's drowsiness." "Here's impatience." Whatever it might be.

So, to just recognize what the experience is at this moment.

And then, as best we can, to allow the experience to be there. After all, it is there. So, to align ourselves with reality, can we allow whatever this experience is to be there? Without trying to shove it away, or grab on tightly.

One support for allowing a compelling experience is to feel it in the body. Feel the maybe energetic, buzzing feeling with restlessness, or maybe there's a feeling in the legs like wanting to jump up and run away. Maybe drowsiness has some heaviness on the shoulders, the head. Maybe frustration is a furrowed brow and maybe collapsed shoulders, a collapsed chest. Whatever it might be for you, to feel the experience in the body.

The body is more tangible; it's easier for the mind to rest on physical sensations.

Another support for allowing the experience to be there is to tease apart the experience from our reaction to the experience.

We feel restless, and then we have aversion to the restlessness. And then do we have aversion to the aversion to the restlessness? And then do we have aversion to the aversion to the aversion to the restlessness? It doesn't matter how many iterations. Can you tease apart a sensation and experience from the reaction to it?

All of these approaches—to recognize, allow, feel in the body, tease apart the experience from the response or reaction to the experience—are ways to help the experience move through us, arise, and pass away. Take some of the compelling nature out of it.

Recognize, allow, feel in the body, tease apart the experience from the reaction to the experience.

We can use the tools of recognize, allow, feel in the body, tease apart the experience from the reaction. And just like all tools, we only use them if it's helpful. If it's beneficial. We don't carry around a crescent wrench and try to use it on everything; we use it when it's useful.

Recognize, allow, feel, tease.

R.A.F.T.

Raft.

It doesn't have to be used in that order, or all four elements, but having a mnemonic so we can use this tool when it's needed.

Sometimes when it feels like we might be overwhelmed by an experience, or an experience is really compelling, it's difficult to not be caught up in it. It can be useful to use what skills and tools we have available as a way to lessen the compelling nature, to make the experience less strong.

So that then we are available, we have the freedom, the space to be available for what else is happening. And to be available for others.

So that we might be a support for others, and so that we might not be stuck and narrowed in on just one thing.

R.A.F.T., raft. May it be for the benefit of all beings everywhere.

And I'm looking for the striker for the bell. [Laughter]

[Bell rings]

Thank you.

The Simile of the Raft

Welcome, welcome. Good evening.

So, in this tradition, sometimes we talk about this idea of crossing the flood. Perhaps you've heard that, and it's not an uncommon idea. I might say that floods represent that which keeps us submerged and suffering, perhaps, or not able to rise up to a secure, stable place. Which we could say is Nibbana^[1] (or awakening) is the most secure. We wouldn't call it a place, but it's the opposite of being submerged and overwhelmed.

Classically—and I'm not going to talk about these, I'll just mention them—there are said to be four floods in the Theravada^[2] tradition in the Pali^[3] canon, or maybe it's even in the commentaries, I'm not sure. The flood of sensuality, the flood of existence, the flood of views, and the flood of ignorance. So these four experiences are things that if we grab onto them, can really be overwhelming. We can feel like we're submerged in them and not on steady ground, but instead getting swept away or pushed around. This can be terribly frightening, of course, to be in the midst of a—I'm thinking in my mind a raging river, or perhaps a flood.

Ajahn Sucitto^[4] writes about this whole metaphor of crossing the flood in this tradition. He writes, "An interest in deep change gets triggered by the feeling of being swept along by events, by the sense of being overwhelmed by and even going under a tide of worries, duties, and pressures." So that's the floods: worries, duties, and pressures.

And just in our daily lives, we may feel like, "Oh, this is too much, and there's like no end, or they just keep on coming," and we can feel them. Ajahn Sucitto continues, "And crossing the floods is about coming through all that to find some firm ground. It takes some work, some skill, but we can do it." So, some encouragement that we can cross over these floods. And that's part of what the practice of Buddhism is about: to get out to the other side.

I remember a number of years ago I saw a movie, I think it was called Into the Wild, but I'm not certain. I don't remember a lot of the particulars of this movie, but my memory of it is that there's this scene where the protagonist, this young man who had gone into Alaska to live off the land, be kind of like a survivalist I guess, and when he first went out into the wilderness—into the wild, I guess—he crossed a river. And then when he became sick and he wanted to go back, now the river was flooding or was raging maybe, and he couldn't cross. So he couldn't go back. And just that scene has stayed in my mind. This idea of, okay, you can see where you need to go, but you can't get there. It's like maybe certain death if you were to go into the water.

So, maybe we don't, in our daily lives, have experiences like that. I do have to say, sometimes I am struck by how effortlessly in my car, or even walking, we cross over bodies of water, or ravines, or valleys, or something like this. Like how often we have solved this problem of crossing an expanse of water in modern times. But of course, that wasn't the case in ancient India, especially when the Buddha was in the Gangetic plains near the Ganges River. It flooded right during the monsoon season. So this idea to cross the flood was a real issue. Even though we might today not be able to relate to it as much, I was thinking that for them in this time of ancient India, this would have been a real concern. It might have even been, "Okay, we can only cross certain times of the year. We just simply can't cross other times of the year."

So, with this as a kind of setting, I'd like to talk a little bit about the Simile of the Raft. Probably most of you are familiar with this. I'll read here, here's a little bit different translation, but it goes like this:

The Simile of the Raft. And this is the Buddha speaking as part of his teaching: "Imagine a person in the course of a journey arrives at a great expanse of water whose near bank is dangerous and whose far bank offers safety, but there is no ferryboat or bridge to take them across the water. So the person thinks, 'What if I collected grass, twigs, branches, and leaves and bound them together as a raft? And supported by the raft and by paddling with my hands and feet, I should then be able to get to the far bank.' The person does this and succeeds in getting across. On arriving at the far bank, it might occur to this person, 'This raft has been very helpful indeed. What if I were to hoist it on my head or load it onto my shoulders and proceed on my journey?' You know, just put it up on here and to carry and just keep on going."

So the Buddha continues, "Now what do you think? By carrying the raft with them, would that person be doing what should be done with a raft?"

"No, sir," replied his audience.

"So what should the person do with a raft? Having arrived at the far bank, the person might think, 'Yes, this raft has been very useful, but now I should just haul it onto dry land or release it and set it adrift in the water, and then go wherever I want.'"

Those of us that are familiar with this—maybe I should just speak for myself—when I heard this Simile of the Raft, I thought, "Oh, okay. So it's all about just dropping those things that aren't useful because we're not going to carry a raft around on dry land." Unless of course we need to portage because we know there's another large expanse of water, or maybe we don't know what's next and we think it might be useful. But for the purpose of this simile, the emphasis is on putting down the raft. But I'd like to unpack this a little bit more, because I think there's some real richness here. Sometimes it's easier to—at least for me, I think for many of us, it's easier to remember things, to feel inspired by them, if they're kind of fleshed out and part of a story in some kind of way.

So the story of this Simile of the Raft is that a person is on a bank of a large expanse of water, which we're assuming is like a flood, or it could be a river, maybe it's a large lake. I actually don't know, but wanting to get to the other side because this side is not safe; there's dukkha^[5] here.

So the simile begins with noticing dukkha. And for so many of us, this is the beginning of our spiritual practice, our Buddhist practice, and certainly it's the First Noble Truth: there is dukkha. So just noticing that, "Oh, where I am here is not safe. I need to go somewhere else." And what's in front, that is the flood, that's not safe either. It's going too fast, maybe it's a torrent, maybe it's raging rapids. We don't know, but for some reason they can't just wade across or swim across. So sometimes we feel like this. Here is not safe, there is not safe. This feeling of, "What am I going to do?" In fact, it's probably not until we feel stuck in some kind of way that we're really able to try something new or do something different.

And so, I'll say that the Buddha spent a lot of his teachings talking about this. About dukkha in general, but in particular pointing to the dukkha of sensual pleasures. Not because they are inherently bad, but because we are often turning to them to try to find... maybe a little confused about pleasure and happiness, and we're trying to find happiness and instead we're going for pleasure. And then we discover again and again and again that things that are pleasurable are not lasting sources of happiness.

The Buddha gave quite a few similes talking about some of the dangers of sensual pleasure. And maybe I'll just offer one here. The Buddha says, "Suppose a person took a blazing grass torch and went against the wind." So that is, holding something that is aflame. Now, in modern times we just get a flashlight if it's dark and we want to see, right? And there aren't dangers usually associated with using a flashlight. But in ancient times, of course, they don't have flashlights. If you need to see at night, you have a torch, and if there aren't trees around or something, it might be a grass torch.

"So suppose a person took a blazing grass torch and went against the wind. What do you think? If that person does not quickly let go of that blazing grass torch, wouldn't that blazing grass torch burn their hand or their arm or some other part of their body, so that they might incur death or deadly suffering because of it?"

I think we can relate to that. If you're holding something that's aflame and the wind comes towards you, you're going to drop it. It's just a natural thing to do. So of course he asks, "Wouldn't they drop it?"

And they say, "Yes, venerable sir."

And then the Buddha continues, "So too, a noble disciple considers thus: sensual pleasures have been compared to a grass torch by the Blessed One. Sensual pleasures provide great disappointment, great trouble, and the danger in them is still greater."

So in the same way, there are some things that for us can be really useful, helpful, enjoyable. I'm using the simile of using a flashlight, but there are so many different things that, even though they may be helpful, lead to trouble. It can be a slippery slope. Using a flashlight isn't one of them, but maybe watching all kinds of TV or YouTube videos, or something like this. You can feel how it kind of saps your energy^[6] or kind of warps your influences, your mind, maybe in a way that isn't the best thing for your mind. Or maybe gossiping, saying something not so helpful about another person. Some of these things the Buddha is using the word "sensual pleasures"—maybe I could just use the word "distractions," or things that we do for entertainment—turn out to not be so helpful.

So sometimes the dukkha is really obvious. We have a terrible diagnosis or some really untenable situation. Or maybe it's not so obvious, watching too many YouTube videos. But this idea that there is dukkha all around on this shore and in the water. So we want to go to the other side. Part of the practice is also to notice that there is another side. There is an alternative. There is a place that has some safety.

And this of course is the Third Noble Truth: the cessation of dukkha. We can consider it as Nibbana, awakening, but even if it's not a complete cessation of all dukkha, think of it as a diminishment of whatever dukkha we're having. It's safer. Even if it's not completely safe, we can also think of the other shore as being safer. So this encouragement for us to notice: okay, when are there experiences that are neutral? Where are experiences that feel like they can be a foundation, a ground for a source of lasting happiness, something that we can build on or create a firm foundation with?

And then, so in this Simile of the Raft, the person is standing there on the near shore, sees dukkha all around, sees that there isn't dukkha on the other side. And then in the simile of the raft, they weave together a raft using grass, twigs, branches, and leaves. That is, they just look at what's there, what's available right there, and they work with what's there to make a raft. This is how I'm interpreting it. They just are using things that are in nature, that one might find in the expanse of a river or something like this. And I like this word, that they get woven together to make the raft.

So we might consider that Sīla, Samādhi, and Paññā^[7] are things that we could weave together to make a raft. That is, the teachings and practices of ethics, mental development, meditation, and wisdom. These three practices we can weave together. It's just part of our daily life. The grass, twigs, leaves, and branches are part of our daily life, and we can approach them and engage in it in a way that has ethics, mental development, and wisdom. So we create a raft with our practice, with the teachings, with what we encounter in our life. And this of course is the Fourth Noble Truth about the Eightfold Path^[8]: Sīla, Samādhi, and Paññā.

And then, once the raft is created, the simile of the raft says the person paddles with their hands and feet to get conveyed across to the other bank. So they don't just create the raft and then just sit on it. No, they build it and then they use it as a support, but of course they have to do some of the effort. They have to do some of the paddling, they still have to engage with the water. They still have to maybe navigate or steer, using—I think it says literally in this—using their hands and feet, so using parts of their body, doing some effort. So there are plenty of teachings also about using the right kind of effort. Of course, that's even one of the elements in the Eightfold Path, that is essentially to cultivate the wholesome and not to cultivate the unwholesome.

But also, specifically about this idea of crossing a flood, here's another excerpt from the Buddha where somebody asks him, "How, dear sir, did you cross the flood?" So again, using this metaphor of crossing the flood in this setting. And then the Buddha responds how he crossed the flood: "By not halting and by not straining, I crossed the flood."

"But how is it that by not halting and by not straining you crossed the flood?"

"When I came to a standstill, I sank. When I struggled, I got swept away. It is in this way, by not halting and not straining, I crossed the flood."

So not only does there need to be some effort, but maybe a kind that doesn't have too much struggle or straining, or by complete stopping. But this recognition that maybe there's building the raft and allowing what we created to support us, but to find our way with wholesome and unwholesome, and to convey us in the direction that we want to go.

So then the simile of the raft continues, that when they get to the other side, is this inquiry, like, "Wow, this raft has been really helpful. Suppose I hoist it on my head or load it onto my shoulders." In some cases, as I said, maybe that makes sense to portage a raft across some dry land if we know that we're going to go to some water elsewhere. But also, when the Buddha was saying, "Well, what should a person do with the raft?" is this inquiry to say, well, rather than just hoisting it on one's head, there should be an inquiry: "Should I haul it onto dry land, or should I set it adrift in the water?" Haul it onto dry land—maybe we need it later. Set it adrift on the water—just release, just let go.

The simile continues. Once one has hauled it onto dry land or let it go, the simile says then the person can go wherever they want. Have complete freedom, no obstructions, no limits. So with this foundation, this raft that we've created, and some effort, we got to the other side to a place where there's even greater freedom. And whether we understand the other shore as Nibbana, as awakening, or just as a place that has more safety than where we currently are, this idea of release, letting go, is part of this path.

So one way, maybe taking the bird's eye view of the Simile of the Raft—and we might even say the arc of somebody's Buddhist practice—could be first noticing. Noticing that there is suffering, there's difficulty, there's dukkha, there's unsatisfactoriness here. And when I look over there... all kinds of places. And to also notice it seems that there's more safety on the other bank, further over there.

If this isn't a perfect simile, but just to notice that there are places of dukkha and places without dukkha, maybe that's the first step. To notice the dangers on this shore, the floods, and the safety on the other shore. And then there's some doing, there's some cultivation, some development: this building the rafts, paddling, and maybe heaving the raft up onto the dry land. And even having this inquiry: "Is this helpful?" Instead of saying, "Oh, this raft has been helpful, therefore I have to carry it," to have the inquiry, "Is this helpful?" And then the release happens. The raft is left behind, so that the person has the freedom to go where they want.

And it's important maybe to say that this release is natural. When you realize, "Oh, there's no more water. I'm safe here, there's no obstructions," you don't have to convince yourself to release the raft. This isn't a perfect simile, because well, there's different ways we could say... what is this? It's not saying that we should release ethics and mental development and wisdom. So the simile isn't perfect. If we're considering that the raft is the Eightfold Path, we don't completely release the Eightfold Path when we get to the other shore. It's more that we release practicing it. For an awakened person, the Eightfold Path is just how they are in the world. They show up with Right View, Right Intention, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Concentration.

So the Simile of the Raft is... somehow it can help us in particular moments. We can think, is it helpful to notice where there is suffering, and to help, but to also notice where there is less suffering? And then just using what we have with us—branches, twigs, leaves, and grass—whatever our daily life is offering us, we can weave them together in the same way that we weave ethics, meditation, and wisdom to support us to get to the other side. And when we get there, then we can embody the Eightfold Path in some kind of way, not that we have to carry it, but we just embody it. And to recognize that releasing happens naturally, this letting go, and it's an integral part of the path. It's not just accumulating and building and cultivating, creating. There's also a lot of letting go that happens.

So in some ways, maybe this Simile of the Raft works in small situations, as well as it might be the whole arc of practice.

So I'm wishing you that you might find different ways, all kinds of different ways in which we might build a raft. Including with bubble gum and toothpicks, and [unintelligible] MacGyver, right? Whatever this TV character used to solve problems with whatever they found. So may you, whatever difficulties you may find yourself in, may you also be able to build a raft so that you may cross over the flood and be able to let go of those things that aren't helpful. Maybe you build the raft and you help others across the flood. Maybe you ferry back and forth helping others.

This way, may our practice be for the benefit of all beings everywhere.

Thank you.