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Guided Meditation: Trust

Hello and welcome to this meditation session, and to the talk that will follow. As an introduction, I want to use an analogy. If you learn to float or swim in water, you can feel very comfortable and confident. You can flip over on your back and float. Maybe you're even in a salted body of water, like a salt lake, where you're much more buoyant. You just stretch back, lay, and float on the water. In doing so, we are trusting the buoyancy of the water. We know how to rest in the water, and there's a kind of trust to it. People who swim are trusting that they'll float. They don't even think about the trust; it's so obvious, almost second nature, but there is a trust.

In the same way, when we do Dharma^[1] practice, we are learning to trust something that holds us up. The word Dharma, the etymology of it, literally means that which supports, something that holds up.

So the Dharma holds us up. To be a little bit more practical about it, it's the practice that holds us up. We can trust the practice. That's not always so obvious, but over time, people who practice a lot learn more and more that if they practice, if they stay in the practice, even if they don't see the benefits immediately, they can trust it. It's like saying you can trust honesty. You can trust being present. You can trust being present and non-reactive. There's something deep that arises, that's available, that comes with that kind of practice.

More broadly, people will trust the Dharma sometimes, and that means trusting some of the basic principles: trusting non-harming, trusting being ethical, trusting kindness and compassion.

We can put the meditation practice in the context of this kind of trust. If you're new to meditation, the trust obviously, and appropriately, won't be there. But as we keep practicing, the trust infuses the practice, or is connected to the practice that we do. We're trusting something—the Dharma, the practice—that is an association of meaning. We're assigning a certain kind of characteristic to the meditation. That characteristic being that it's not just our own efforts; there's something else very profound, maybe even more important than what we do, that holds us up. Maybe it becomes second nature to float in the practice, in the Dharma.

So with that as an introduction, you can maybe assume a posture where the posture is a posture of trust. A posture that allows you to somehow relax very deeply, knowing—or acting as if you know—that you're going to be in a trustworthy, safe, supported place during the meditation. See how much the meditation will support you no matter what happens. Trust the meditation. Trust the mindfulness. Trust keeping showing up and being present.

Don't trust the reactivity. Don't trust the judgments, the bias, the fears. Instead, trust the clear, honest awareness that there are judgments, fears, and reactivity. Trust the practice of attention. Trust awareness.

Take a few long, slow, deep breaths. Breathing in deeply, preparing yourself for going into the water, or into a delightful place where you can trust. If water is not a good analogy, maybe your mattress is; trust going to bed and laying there. Breathing in deeply and long, and relaxing. Exhale, softening your body.

Letting the breathing return to normal. Maybe on the exhale, relaxing into your body. Maybe it's like you're lowering yourself into a pool of water. As you exhale, lower yourself into your body.

And in this body of yours, is there some location that you associate with the kind of trust or confidence that I've been talking about? When you trust deeply, where in your body does that seem to live?

Sitting here, maybe breathing through this place. Breathing from it, breathing with the trust that being aware, being present, is trustworthy more than anything else for these minutes.

And if you wander away from that place of trust, then when you remember, remember that place. Come back to that trust, and let the trust be the source or the support for this awareness practice we do.

Being aware. Being attentive and in mindfulness, here and now. Not contending with anything. Not opposing or favoring anything, just aware. Aware of the breathing, the body.

And maybe, in the middle of the awareness, can there be trust? You trust the awareness, floating in the awareness. Not so much doing awareness, but resting in it. Allowing it. Floating.

As we come to the end of a sitting, a meditation where trust has been evoked, there are other things to trust when we're in the Dharma. We can trust generosity, being generous. Trust kindness and friendliness. Trust compassion and care.

Especially when the opposites of those are strong for us, we have to be careful not to trust those opposites. We have to learn to practice with them and be wise about it. The idea of entrusting ourselves to them, giving ourselves over to being greedy, miserly, unkind, mean, angry, hostile, or uncaring—in the Dharma, this is what is dangerous. Where our safety is found is in generosity, kindness, and care.

And when we trust those, it turns out that it's easier to trust being aware. It's also more wonderful and wondrous to be aware in the context of wishing well to others and wishing well to oneself. May it be that your trust in the Dharma, your trust in mindfulness, is strengthened with your goodwill and well-wishing to others.

May it be that you wish well to those people in your life, those you encounter.

May others be happy. May others be safe. May others be peaceful. May others be free.

And may I trust enough—may each of us trust enough—to float on those wishes, to act on those wishes. May we bring benefit and welfare to others.

Dharmette: Meaning (5 of 5) Sacred

Thank you. This is the last talk on the theme of meaning in connection to doing meditation practice. Meaning is the assigning of value, purpose, and interpretation to our meditation practice, to Buddhist practice.

There are many different assignments of purpose and value that we can give to it. I've said this already, but for example, someone might have some kind of illness, and the doctor says, "You need to find some way to have less stress in your life. I think you should meditate." So the assigned meaning and purpose of meditation is for de-stressing, and the primary understanding of what meditation is becomes a form of stress relief.

Someone else might find they are struggling at work because they regularly have to give little public talks to a large group of people. They are petrified, really afraid, stumbling over their words, and it's very hard for them to do it. They think, "I need to find some way to calm down and work with my fear." Someone suggests they try mindfulness meditation, partly to calm down, but also to get a handle on what's really going on for them and work through the fear, or learn to hold the fear in a different way and not be hooked into it. So that becomes the assigned meaning, purpose, and value: to help them work with their fear.

Someone else might feel that, in some clear way, they have been suffering much of their life. There's been a sense of heaviness, despair, or strain that they live with. Even when they go on vacation, there's something not quite right; there's a dissatisfaction. Then they hear some Buddhist teaching. A classic example for some people is hearing the teachings of the Four Noble Truths^[2]. They say, "Wow, no one has ever put it front and center that there is suffering in this world. Everyone I've talked to before is trying to get away from it, or say it's not really there, trying to paint a nice picture of how wonderful this world is. But I just see suffering everywhere. And here these teachings say yes, there is suffering." But they didn't stop there. They said there was a cause, and a possibility of freedom from that suffering, and they have a path and a practice for doing that.

That excites them, buoys them^[3], and motivates them. They think, "Yes, this is what I want to do." So now the assigned meaning, purpose, and value of meditation has to do with some of the deeper existential issues of being a human being that this person faces.

Some people practice meditation or do other things that somehow open their mind dramatically. It releases them from ordinary states of being in the world, where it's a strong "me versus you," where we feel we just have to chase after our thoughts—or our thoughts chase after us. There can be a very strong sense of alienation from everything, or from the world. People live in all kinds of ways. But somehow, something they do—time in nature, time with a loved one, taking a psychedelic, or meditating—brings a shift. In meditation, going deeper and deeper, they might get released from so much of the holding patterns, tightness, and constrictions of their mind, their clinging, wanting, and fear. They start having a taste, a feeling, an experience of what it's like to not have any of those present. To be able to breathe easily, to feel freedom, to feel a sense of intimacy with the world. It brings a very different relatedness to the world around us and to other people that feels so much more meaningful than anything else. Meaningful, perhaps, because the alternative way of being hurts, is challenging, and is stressful.

It feels really good. It feels healthy. It feels more natural to not be caught up in the fears, desires, greed, and conceits that can happen. They realize, "Wow, this is health. This is psychological and spiritual health." For some people, it's not just psychological. It feels so pervasive throughout their life, pervasive throughout their consciousness, in how they touch, see, or perceive everything in the world. To call it merely psychological seems to limit it to something bounded or small. This is big; this is everything. So now, the assigned meaning to the meditation is that it's a way of living from that place, being connected to it, finding it, or practicing in a way that is attuned to something more than psychological well-being and health. It is some kind of spiritual or broad existential way of being.

So there are all these different levels, layers, and ways of assigning meaning, purpose, and value, and understanding what meditation is. None of them are wrong; they're all wonderful. It's important for each person to find what it means for them right now, so they can practice well and engage fully with it. Each of these approaches has slightly different ways of practicing, different orientations, and different focuses for what mindfulness can be.

The topic for today is the way in which the meaning of meditation, the assigned value of it, or the association we have with it, can be with what some people might call the sacred—what is most sacred. That is, of course, a big word that some Buddhists don't care for. I don't think there's any obvious Pali^[4] word that translates as "sacred," except maybe if we use the word Dharma. Sometimes the word noble is used that way too.

I like the word sacred because it's not entirely clear exactly what it means, but it has to do with our ultimate value. It is what we see, understand, and orient ourselves toward, touching all aspects of our life. It's the heart, the source, or the context for how we want to live. It defines our life, validates it, and brings value to our entire existence. It is all-inclusive.

My favorite definition of what is sacred in our Buddhist practice is an awareness that leaves nothing out. As soon as there's a selection process that says, "No, I'm not going to be aware of that. I'm going to exclude that. It is not acceptable for me to bring open, clear mindfulness to this," then we've shut ourselves off from the sacred. What is most sacred is when the awareness is all-encompassing. It doesn't mean we agree with everything or condone everything, but the awareness can hold it all. We trust that awareness. Within that wide universe of awareness that we float in, live in, and trust, we then find our way with wisdom regarding whatever is going on. If we have to say no to something, we say no, but it is all held.

Other people have different ideas of what is sacred, or if sacred is not the right word, what is ultimate. What holds ultimate value for us, or what we are committed to putting at the center of our lives? Some people put family at the center, bringing love, connection, a sense of responsibility, or devotion. Some people put work. Some people put being of service to others as ultimate. For some people, it's a connection to God, if you have a theistic orientation. But in Dharma practice, at some point, what can become central for people is the Dharma itself, the practice itself.

At that point, it becomes ultimate. It's the center, what gives the most meaning, value, and purpose to our lives. That is where we want our life to come from and be supported by; everything has to be connected to this Dharma. One of the reasons for that is we've learned that anything other than what we understand to be the Dharma—anything other than non-clinging that involves clinging—is less healthy. It is less satisfying, less meaningful, and frankly, it just hurts.

So at some point, meditation becomes not just something that we have to do and add to our life; it becomes our life. There's a wonderful transition or switch that can happen. Rather than asking the question, "How can I bring my practice into my life?"—thinking meditation or retreat^[5] is great, but asking how to bring this practice into life, which is a beautiful question, and I love when people ask it—at some point, the question changes. At some point, the question becomes, "How do I bring my life into my practice?" The practice takes center stage. The practice is the stage. The question is, "How do I bring the audience, how do I bring the visitors, how do I bring everything up onto the stage to be included there?" rather than our ordinary life being the stage and the practice being someone in the audience who gets invited in to be part of the play.

So, to trust this, to have faith in it, to have confidence in it, is one of the possibilities within this theme of meaning. The meaning is that this is what I trust. This is what I have faith in. This is what I have confidence in. This is where I have certainty that this is the right place for me to be: the center, the focus, the root of my life.

Some people at that point will feel, "Wait a minute, I'm being disloyal to my family," for example. "I have to love them, and to have something else be more central seems like a betrayal." My proposal is that it doesn't have to be a betrayal. The love you have for the world, for your family, and for other things that are important to you can remain just as important as they are now. There's no diminishment of importance.

But more important is the Dharma. It's the practice of mindfulness, the awareness practice; that's more central. Rather than diminishing the love, care, responsibility, and devotion towards the things that are important, we float in the Dharma. It holds us up so we can do those worthwhile things even better. It doesn't diminish their importance; it just makes them richer and more valuable, and we come to them as a better person.

So it is safe to put the Dharma at the center of your life, more important than anything else, because it's the water that we float in. How wonderful to float in that water. Then you can be a lifeguard if need be, but if you haven't learned to float, you're not going to save a lot of people.