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Guided Meditation

So hello everyone, good to be with you on this Sunday. We'll do a meditation, offer some light guidance for us to begin, and then followed by a silent sit together. Let's enjoy each other's company and practicing together.

Arriving. Arriving, arriving here and now. Taking a few generous moments to arrive. Not rushing through this arriving process.

Coming to your meditation cushions or chairs. Maybe just take a few moments to allow your feet to really settle on the ground. Maybe the bodies still need to move. Riding with the movements of arriving.

When you're ready, allow the contact of the body with wherever you're sitting to be in the forefront of your awareness. Noticing that you have arrived here and you have arrived now.

Feeling and sensing into the contact of the body with the floor and earth underneath of you. Grounded. Supported by earth.

What's the felt sense of a grounded here and now in this body with this breath?

Maybe the bubbly energy that you came with settles down ever so slightly. Maybe the movements of the breath become more visible. Let yourself savor in the sense of groundedness. Centered.

From this grounded place, open the awareness to receive whatever is present right here and right now. Movements of the breath, sensations in the body, wavy emotions lingering, thoughts. Nothing excluded. Being with the ever-changing experiences.

If the breath is prominent, resting, grounding in the movements of the breath. Being with the breath. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, just to be here with the movements of the breath.

If strong sensations in the body arise, no problem. Open the space of awareness to be with the sensations in the body just as they are.

Learning to be. To be with what is here. Whatever is here, we're learning to be with.

Groundedness and Grounding

So good to be here with you all. Very delighted. I'm aware that you're probably all sitting for a while, for those who are online or in person. If you need to move, feel free to do so. Just allow the body to shift and change a little as we shift and change into a different mode of practicing and learning Dharma.

What's on my mind today is a couple of words that I like to share my reflections upon, and these are the words grounding or groundedness. I have introduced these couple of words in our meditation just slightly. Those two words, grounding and groundedness, may evoke something in you. Even now, as you're sitting, or lying down, or standing, just check in to see what is the felt sense of grounding or being grounded.

For me, there is an immediate sense of resting down, settling down. A sense of safety, a sense of trust. Feeling secure here. Not worried that somehow the ground will disappear underneath of me. You may have words and phrases, images of your own for this sense of grounding or being grounded.

What I'd like to share today is a reflective question: Where do we ground ourselves? Where do we ground ourselves as human beings? One way or another, we're always finding ground to settle in, consciously or unconsciously. Ever since we were born, when we were babies, the parents' arms are the nice comfy grounds to be in, and resting there. As we grow up, lots of different grounds open up for us. Relationships with friends, family, relationships in communities. Maybe coming together here feels a sense of grounding. There is a sense of trust and safety as we are in specific kinds of communities, and our heart, mind, and body can rest. We feel some sense of settling in those kinds of grounds.

There are also other kinds of grounds. Some must find grounds in jobs, the work we do, careers. They offer a certain kind of fulfillment, excitement, a certain sense of security in different ways. And grounds of hobbies, and grounds of entertainment, that's where we are kind of feeling a sense of okayness. A sense of resting and coming when we're engaged in those activities. The list can go on. Lots of these grounds can open up as we go about living our lives.

As we begin to get a sense of them emerging, we may also notice many of those grounds involve a pattern of activities and doing. In relationships, we have to find relationships and maintain them. Jobs and careers that offer our fulfillment, we have to really work at it and be in it.

I remember when I first came to this country more than 30 years ago as a college student, I immediately realized that there was absolutely no security in any form. No financial security, no relationships. I just immediately got very busy doing. Trying to get a degree as fast as possible just so that I could feel a little comfort in achieving that, and getting a part-time job while doing that. I remember days when I would have spent all night in the computer graphics lab working on my project. This is all okay; I think we all do this in our lives from time to time.

Little did I know, though, as I engaged in this pattern, it can become a habit. A habit of doing, achieving more, accomplishing more, acquiring more. I got a degree and got a job, and in my job, I could do this, or I could climb the corporate ladder. It doesn't stop. We all know that as individuals engaging this way, and if many people engage in the same way, before we know it, a culture begins to evolve around all of us. There's a culture of doing, a culture of busy doing, endless doing, accomplishing, achieving. Once the culture is emerging all around us, that can become a norm. We don't even know other possibilities exist, and so we just keep engaging in this.

Sometimes I recognize that even when retirement comes, the doing doesn't stop, because we just shift from one kind of doing to another. I remember at my work, there was someone who retired, I think close to 80 years old, but after retirement, he still shows up in the lab. I was wondering, wow, this really goes on and on. We can begin to let this habit force take over us and continue in this mode.

I want to offer an image. Well, before I do that, I want to point out that it's not to say that all of this is our problem. What I wanted to point out is, as we begin to reinforce this pattern in our lives, we begin to engage in an unconscious dynamic. Often, this is driven by the forces of wanting, desires, greed, hatred, and delusion^[1]. As we continue to engage in this pattern, we lose sight of what is driving underneath of us. The image that I have in this mode of operation is that of constant dancing on tippy-toes. Before one foot lands completely on the ground, the next foot has to move. I guess we think the next foot, the next landing, is where we can finally stabilize and ground and rest. But as we know, when this pattern begins to engage and has its own life, we just tippy-toe dance, not knowing that resting is even possible.

And so we can find it difficult to know what's possible, to really ground. I remember that my teacher Gil Fronsdal^[2] sometimes pointed out that maybe human beings should be called human doings, because we really do, we do a lot. It is very fortunate for me that it's not until I encountered Dharma practice and Dharma teachings that I realized there is a different kind of grounding that we can rest in. The ground of being. Being with what is happening here and now. Unlike putting the two feet on the ground really solid on the ground, even for all of us right now, just as you settle in your chairs and the floor, allow yourself to feel the feet on the ground. Sitting on the cushion, or on the chairs, lying down, wherever you are, standing. What is that felt sense of being? Being with what is happening here and now. Being with listening. Being with the breath moving through us. Being with the seeing. Being with the sounds inside and outside, thoughts. Nothing to do, nowhere to go.

For me, that sense of being often immediately evokes a sense of resting down, that sense of groundedness that we were speaking about and practicing with. Opening and receiving, receiving what is happening here now. Being contented with what is here. Not wishing it to be any other way. We don't have to tip-toe to the next step, but here. Here is enough.

Maybe pain, unpleasant sensations are here. Unpleasant emotions are here. But it's okay to be. To be with. To be with this is enough. For me, there is a sense of contentment coming along, and maybe also a sense of centeredness. Right here, rooted right here, right now.

Being grounded in the way things are, not what I wanted it to be, but the way things are. The Pali term that gets translated as the way things are is that of Dhamma^[3]. Grounded in Dhamma. This is not to say that somehow we'll just have a magic way of simply stopping altogether. Stopping the doing, stopping the momentum, stopping the wanting. It doesn't happen. There's no magical button to push, we all know that.

And yet, as we engage in the Dharma practice, from time to time we may discover the moments where we can be with what is happening. It offers an opportunity to know and to see that there is a different possibility for us. As we engage in the Dharma practice, we may also learn, oh, there is a different kind of doing that allows the being to come about. This is the kind of doing that in our Dharma world is referred to as walking the Dharma path. It involves a certain kind of doing. You all came here today and practice meditation together, learning the Dharma together. There is a form of doing engaged. And yet, this kind of doing is conducive to settling and resting. Conducive to an establishment of a sense of well-being. I love the term well-being. It's a kind of being that has a goodness to it. A kind of being that we can trust. That's very fortunate, that this is possible, this is available to us. Walking the Dharma path is a form of doing that one can engage in that allows a different ground to emerge.

I pointed out early on that the kind of activities and doing that we engage in involves sometimes a lot of physical activities. I also want to point out that there is a kind of doing that happens in our mind. We discover this as we begin to sit on the cushion. Oftentimes, when we begin our meditative practice, even though our bodies settle down, immediately we discover how much we think, right? And boy, they're loud and persistent. Knowing that this is also a long-term conditioning that happened maybe from very early on. I'm aware that my teenager is always needing to figure things out a lot. I'm fond of these terms: figuring things out, sorting things out in our mind. Because we never read out of it, we always keep figuring, continuing to figure, but never really get out of it. Maybe out of it momentarily, and the next one will come pretty quickly. We're aware of this kind of doing internally. Internal chatter. For me, I never realized how much I talked to myself in meditation, constantly. We have inner chatter going on.

In our culture, there is a cultural norm that supports this, conditions this, right? The more knowledge we have and the more information we accumulate, somehow we will be okay. We'll be able to figure things out. So we get stimulated by constant feeds into our being: social media, emails, the internet, and what have you. This thinking machine is constantly fed with lots of resources. Figuring things out sometimes can become a belief, an idea that we hold. So even if our physical bodies are settled down, that belief may still continue to fuel the momentum in our patterns of thinking, patterns of planning.

Yet walking the Dharma path, we begin to learn: What is a different possibility? What is a different possibility here? That's great, we are offered mindfulness practices that allow us to begin to see the patterns that exist in us. They offer tools for us to begin to settle into our experiences. Mindfulness of the body, of our breath, invites us to begin to settle in the experience that's happening here and now.

Sometimes, you may have this experience yourself: as you settle into the rhythm of the breath, sensations in the body, our beliefs about having to think through everything may soften. We may have a momentary experience of silence, even the silence in between my words. Space. Some momentary stillness, however small it may feel. This might be a pointer for us to say, oh, there may be a different ground that's possible here.

Again, I want to invite you to just check in with your body, however it is. Maybe in the midst of the movements in the body, there can be a sense of silence, a kind of stillness that's not rejecting all the things that are happening, but just being with them. Just being with listening to the sound, and yet the silence can be in the backdrop of it all.

I'm fond of this story of Mother Teresa from an interview book. The interviewer asked Mother Teresa what she says to God when she prays. "I don't say anything," she replied. "I just listen." And so the interviewer asked her what God says to her. "He doesn't say anything," said Mother Teresa. "He just listens." And before the astonished interviewer could press her further, she added, "And if you don't understand that, I can't explain it to you."

So quietly listen. Listen to the vibrations within us, the vibrations outside. Quiet, still. When we're more and more grounded ourselves in the way things are, not wishing it to be any other way, grounded in being, actions can arise spontaneously out of wisdom and compassion. This form of being is not some form of idleness, simply giving up and doing nothing, but rather it's a deep trust of the inner wisdom and compassion that's available to us. It's the kind of trust that allows a kind of doing to emerge, not based on wanting, aversion, or delusion, but based on the big field of compassion and wisdom. So this form of being is a rich and potent field, and not a barren field.

I want to offer a poem written by the Chinese philosopher Laozi^[4], and translated by Stephen Mitchell. This is chapter 15:

The ancient masters were profound and subtle. Their wisdom was unfathomable. There is no way to describe it; all we can describe is their appearance.

They were careful as someone crossing an ice-covered stream. Alert as a warrior in enemy territory. Courteous as a guest. Fluid as melting ice. Shapeable as a block of wood. Receptive as a valley. Clear as a glass of water.

Do you have the patience to wait till your mud settles and the water is clear? Can you remain unmoving till the right action arises by itself?

The master doesn't seek fulfillment. Not seeking, not expecting, she is present, and can welcome all things.

So there is a kind of doing that's fueled by wanting and delusion that leads to more doing, tippy-toe dancing. And there is a form of doing that leads to being, well-being. This being is rich, potent, flexible. As shapeable as a block of wood. It can be a stick for someone who needs a stick to walk around, it can be a pillar holding the structure of the building. And so there is this form of being that offers the potential of doing for the benefit of all beings, for the well-being of all beings. But this happens when we have the patience to wait for the mud to settle and the water to be clear.

This practice we're engaging in is to learn to be, to settle, to allow the mud to settle so our heart and mind become clear, and the right actions arise by themselves. May we all trust the wholesome doing that allows well-being to emerge, and trust the doing that arises out of a deep sense of well-being. And may all beings be benefited by this.

Thank you, everybody.

Q&A and Reflections

So we have a few minutes. If anyone has comments, protests, or questions, you are welcome to share your own reflections.

Audience Member 1: That must have been a good Dharma talk because during it, I realized how unsettled, antsy, and restless my body was.

Ying Chen: Yeah, yeah. Noticing it has a lot of power.

Audience Member 1: Thank you. It wasn't pleasant to notice it, but it was kind of wonderful in a way, because, oh yes, I've got this body and I'm alive.

Ying Chen: Yes, yes, that's right. So there's one behind you.

Audience Member 2: Thank you, Ying. That was so beautiful. I have a request and then a question. My request is if you could read the poem one more time. And then my question is about waiting for the mud to settle. If you could talk about how that process might unfold, that would be great.

Ying Chen: Beautiful. Thank you for the question. Let me read the poem one more time, and then maybe we'll unpack a little to see how we get the mud to settle.

The ancient masters were profound and subtle. Their wisdom was unfathomable. There is no way to describe it; all we can describe is their appearance.

They were careful as someone crossing an ice-covered stream. Alert as a warrior in enemy territory. Courteous as a guest. Fluid as melting ice. Shapeable as a block of wood. Receptive as a valley. Clear as a glass of water.

Do you have the patience to wait till your mud settles and the water is clear? Can you remain unmoving till the right action arises by itself?

The master doesn't seek fulfillment. Not seeking, not expecting, she is present, and can welcome all things.

Here it offers the word patience: have the patience to wait till the mud settles. The image evoked in me is that of sitting right here, being in the midst of what's happening here and now. As Bill was pointing out, sitting here and noticing the unease that may be in the body, in the mind. Do we have the patience to be with this? So often, when unpleasant experiences happen, we immediately want to tip-toe to the next step. "I gotta get rid of this one." What this invites us to do is to be with this. To allow this experience to unfold on its own terms, not based on what I believe it should be, or "I would rather that's not happening to me." There are lots of agendas that our habitual mind can have, wanting to wiggle out of where we are.

We are offered in the Dharma practice lots of tools to establish that kind of sense of centeredness, of being with. For example, mindfulness of the breath. Being with the breath as the breath unfolds on its own. Being with the body, in the body, of the body—not of my belief of what the body is supposed to be. A lot of those things that you've been practicing are pointing in this direction. The trick is to begin to notice the various patterns that emerge in us, that wanting to wiggle this way or that way. When we cultivate mindfulness, we begin to see those momentums, and we just look at them and smile. "Can I be with this?" And let it flow, so the mud will settle.

But if we try, if we want to get rid of this, or want to hold on to that, we can see what impact that has. Does that lead to settledness, or does it lead to more spinning around? As long as we begin to open our awareness to see this, we will begin to see the inner functions of this. I don't like to use the word logic, because it doesn't feel logical—sometimes they're pretty chaotic. But we will begin to see certain patterns, and we will begin to know what will actually support a sense of well-being and what doesn't. Does that seem to land?

Audience Member 2: Yeah, okay, thank you.

Ying Chen: Maybe the last one, if there is one. Otherwise, well then, we can stop right here. Thank you so much, everyone, for your practice, and may you continue to take good care.