20241130 - 15:57
I find myself here, again. On the eve of Sesshin - now, 2 hours and a dinner away. This time, 7 days. Rohatsu sesshin, an annual celebration of the Buddha’s enlightenment. Anticipation is in the air. The last few days people are arriving, new energies being added into the mix. From our usual modest 10 to 30 people, soon to be undertaking the practice of quieting, but evidently not yet. Anticipation is a curious thing. I am reminded every morning when the smell of breakfast creeps up the hallway to the Zendo where we are sitting. When I hear the bell to Dokusan, and in a flash we go from completely still to racing towards the teacher’s room, overfilling with excitement. Then when we sit there in the queue, perhaps pondering what we will present, say, do. In the kitchen before lunch, finishing up the dishes, smelling the spices, sneaking a peek and seeing the chef pour up the food to be put on the table. Feeling the mouth starting to salivate, already imagining the eating. As you might see, food is a big concern of mine. Either way; Anticipation arising in all sort of ways.
Yesterday my roomate told me that he canceled his studies and has
decided to stay here for an additional year, instead of the couple of
months as he first thought. Discussing why he says that there is so much
he is coming to understand that he doesn’t know. I ask him why the
absence of knowledge leads him to choose to stay here, why the emptiness
holds this direction.
“Emptiness has no direction, and it was no choice.” he
answers.
I’ve been contemplating this directionality a lot lately. It is at the core of my practice, at the heart of everything. Feelings arise, and they seem to carry with them an implication, a direction. Pleasant feeling arises and seem to imply the action of maintaining. This morning during zazen I float around in the clouds, delighting in the pleasantness of it all. Taking it for granted, assuming it. This feels good, this must be the right way. Implicitly I assume the direction, and it seems like no choice at all. It seems like the direction is contained within the feeling itself, it is so obvious. This obviousness, implicity, assumption, this is where we must look deeper. What is really going on? Without assumptions, can we just look?
Anticipation, this most obvious of directional feelings. Anticipating something. Looking forward to. Going-ahead-of. And yet, sitting there for what seems like hours in the Dokusan queue, just feeling anticipation. Dropping everything that I think might happen inside those closed doors, and just sitting with the feeling of anticipation. Tasting its flavors, sensing its pull. Anticipation, to be sure it is a feeling. The word describes something specific. But to be a feeling, to be, at all, is to be here, right now, as a currently enduring phenomena. Anticipation does not exist in the future as the object that is anticipated, and even to oppose such a claim seems a bit absurd. It does, however, carry with it a strong pull, something that seems to beckon us forth: “come here, look at this object that isn’t here.” The feeling seems to carry with it an absence, which we then fill by going forth into the future and summoning it in our mind.
We might come to notice this going forth, and recognize it for what it is: an action. A choice. Feelings arise, feelings pass. They might tempt or lure us, but they cannot act for us. The absence can be left just as that: as the feeling of absence. Anticipation might just be anticipation, and the reference towards something, which we actively maintain, can be dropped. Anticipation is here. Let me just be, with that. However strong the urge, however obvious the direction, can I just be with that? With the urge, with the anticipation? With whatever it is that arises? Thought of understanding arises? There I am, seeing. “Ah, thought of understanding.” Only through dropping all assumptions that there is something else might we begin to untangle the intricate mess we are woven into. “Finally I got it! The understanding I’ve been looking for my whole life! Isn’t it wonderful!?”. There it is, again. Presently enduring thought. Nothing more, nothing less.