Beginning
a mindfulness meditation practice is difficult.
You worry
whether you’re doing it right. You want to know what you’re getting
into, but it’s hard to know what the benefits will be. It is hard to
know whether it’s worth the effort. It often isn’t as relaxing as
you imagined. It’s hard to know how your path through the practice
will be similar to anyone else’s. It is perhaps because of these
difficulties that many of the classical Buddhist teachings are in the form of
similes, stories, and metaphors. We can’t tell you exactly what will
work for you or how to go about it, but we can hint at it.
One arm
of the Eightfold
Path that is particularly difficult to describe clearly is the one
about Right Effort. How much and what kind of effort is “right?” (I
tend to prefer the terms “skillful” or “appropriate” rather than "right.") The
answer to this depends partly on your intended goal and the path you want to
take to achieve it. The classic story about skillful effort is from
the Sona
Sutta, about a monk named Sona who was trying too hard to achieve
enlightenment.
According
to the story, Sona had been practicing walking meditation so hard that his feet
were bleeding and he became despondent and considered giving up his life as a
monk. To paraphrase, the Buddha knew that Sona had been a skilled vina
player prior to being a monk (a vina
or veena is an ancient Indian stringed instrument that is played by
plucking it). Buddha asked him, “when the strings of your vina were too
taut, was your vina in tune and playable?" to which Sona answered
“No.” Buddha then asked him, “When the strings of your vina were too
loose, was your vina in tune and playable?" to which Sona answered again
“No.” Buddha concluded by saying that in the same way, when we hold our
minds too tightly we become restless, and when we hold them too loosely we
become lazy.
Although
this part of the story is fairly well-known, the sutra continues at some
length. Apparently this instruction was beneficial for Sona, because
he figured out the right amount of effort and achieved enlightenment. From
this point on, however, the sutra gets weird (my opinion only).
Sona
seeks out the Buddha apparently to show off how enlightened he is, and seems to
brag about his achieving liberation and his dedication to only six things:
“renunciation, seclusion, non-afflictiveness, the ending of craving, the ending
of clinging/sustenance, and non-deludedness.” He continues by saying that
having achieved this imperturbability, when his experience includes powerful
forms, sounds, smells, tastes, feelings, and ideas, “his mind is neither
overpowered nor even engaged” [emphasis added].
What
strikes me as odd is that I doubt that these are the goals most modern American
Buddhists have. Some of them sound great – I’m all for ending
ignorance/confusion, not being afflicted, and not being driven by
cravings. I even like the idea of being imperturbable when things
get nutty. Nonetheless, I don’t really want to be secluded from
others or disengaged from my life and the powerful experiences that occur. I
want to be deeply involved and moved by my experiences, without being
controlled by them.
Perhaps
this sutra is designed to be a model for those entering the priesthood and not
for householders. Perhaps it has lost (or gained) something in the
translation. Perhaps I am simply misunderstanding its deeper
meaning, but maybe there’s another way to consider this story without it
seeming so stark.
Instead
of simply asking the question about what allows the string to be in tune and
playable, what if we asked the question about how we can make music? Even
once the string is tuned properly there is no music. If we simply hold
the string we get no music. If we space out and pay attention to
something else we get no music. It is only by a process of placing and
releasing our fingers on the strings that they make a sound, and we must return
constantly to the strings to play the next notes of the melody. In a like
manner, if we try to hold our minds or our breath too steadily, we are not
allowing ourselves to breathe and feel naturally – to sing the song of our
being. If we space out and chase our thoughts, we similarly are not fully
engaged in our lives. It is only by constantly lightly touching our
experience with awareness and returning it to mindfulness that we feel and sing
the living song of our being.
