I left mass right after communion because the retreat itself was close to starting. Luckily the convent where the retreat was taking place was only about 5 minutes away. I arrived right on time. The retreat was run by Peggy Lindquist and Terry Moe. Peggy is a member of Thich Nhat Hanh's Order of Interbeing, and Terry is a Lutheran pastor and community organizer. Terry is also the author of the book Pastor Robyn gave to me, The Bush Still Burns, written about Terry's journey from pastor to organizer and how that changed both him and the community he was leading. The retreat began with one question, what does engaged spirituality mean to me? We were encouraged to keep that in mind as we progressed through the day, which was divided into five parts.
Part one was focused on a meditation practice from Hanh that combined mindfulness with visualizations to help promote stability, serenity, insight, and joy. Everyone was given four stones to hold as a tangible way to help remain mindful. And with each stone we held, we were encouraged to breath in and out mindfully while visualizing and embodying four separate qualities. For the first, breathing in, we saw ourselves as a flower and breathing out we felt fresh, energized, joyful. For the second, breathing in we saw ourselves as a mountain and breathing out we felt solid, stable, grounded. For the third, breathing in we saw ourselves as still water and breathing out we reflected all that is, mindful of things as they are without the ripples that our minds tend to create. And for the fourth, breathing in we saw ourselves as space and breathing out we felt free, expansive, open. And she read a couple of passages from Hanh, one of which stood out for me:
There are two ways to wash the dishes. The first is to wash the dishes in order to have clean dishes and the second is to wash the dishes to wash the dishes. If, while washing dishes, we think only of the cup of tea that awaits us, thus hurrying to get the dishes out of the way as if they were a nuisance, then we are not "washing the dishes to wash the dishes." What's more, we are not alive during the time we are washing the dishes. In fact, we are completely incapable of realizing the miracle of life while standing at the sink. If we can't wash the dishes, the chances are we won't be able to drink our tea either. While drinking the cup of tea, we will only be thinking of other things, barely aware of the cup in our hands. Thus we are sucked away into the future—and we are incapable of actually living one minute of life. (The Miracle of Mindfulness)
If we're not mindful and simply running on autopilot or else doing something with the thought of getting or doing something else, we're not truly present. We're missing out on that moment and the very act of living itself, because living only takes place in the present. And so much of what we accept as reality and hold to be real and solid is actually an illusion or distortion and the product of the stories we tell ourselves rather than things as they truly are. In the suttas, for example, the Buddha used similes like a glob of foam floating on the river, the hollow core of a banana tree for someone seeking heartwood, and a magic trick—the point being that often what we see lacks the substance we imbue it with (SN 22.95). And in the bible, a similar idea can be seen in places like Ecclesiastes 11:9-12:8, which coincidentally happened to be the first reading during mass:
Rejoice, O youth, while you are young
and let your heart be glad in the days of your youth.
Follow the ways of your heart,
the vision of your eyes;
Yet understand regarding all this
that God will bring you to judgment.
Banish misery from your heart
and remove pain from your body,
for youth and black hair are fleeting.
Remember your Creator in the days of your youth,
before the evil days come
And the years approach of which you will say,
"I have no pleasure in them";
Before the sun is darkened
and the light and the moon and the stars
and the clouds return after the rain;
When the guardians of the house tremble,
and the strong men are bent;
When the women who grind are idle because they are few,
and those who look through the windows grow blind;
When the doors to the street are shut,
and the sound of the mill is low;
When one rises at the call of a bird,
and all the daughters of song are quiet;
When one is afraid of heights,
and perils in the street;
When the almond tree blooms,
and the locust grows sluggish
and the caper berry is without effect,
Because mortals go to their lasting home,
and mourners go about the streets;
Before the silver cord is snapped
and the golden bowl is broken,
And the pitcher is shattered at the spring,
and the pulley is broken at the well,
And the dust returns to the earth as it once was,
and the life breath returns to God who gave it.
Vanity of vanities, says Qoheleth,
all things are vanity!
Mindfulness, then, can be a tool to help ground us and centre ourselves in the present moment. And it can also help us become free of the influence of the three poisons of greed, aversion, and delusion, as well as our clinging to what isn't real or important. The Buddha calls the habitual stories and false perceptions we create papanca, "mental proliferations," and much of our suffering in life comes from believing in them. But true peace comes from letting them go and seeking out and resting within what's true and real. For the Buddha and Hanh, this is nirvana, realization of the unconditioned, the cessation of suffering created by our misunderstandings and wrong perceptions. And for Merton, this is God, the unconditioned, the ground of being. It is all an ineffable oneness. So rather than taking refuge in fleeting moments and indulging in misunderstandings and wrong perceptions, we're invited to be aware, be awake, and to truly live in the present moment.
The second session was about the brotherhood between Merton and Hanh. Although they only met in person once in 1966, they shared a lot in common and admired each other greatly. They both were monks. They both grew up in the midst of war. They both were led by their spiritual practice to be engaged with the world and speak out against injustice and war, even when doing so was difficult and came at a cost. They both wrote very similar things about the role that nature played in their spirituality. They were both writers and poets. They had been monks for about the same amount of time. And they both shared an understanding of spirituality that was ultimately nondual in nature. But even though they shared a number of similarities, they shared differences as well, e.g., Merton was an adult then he entered monastic life whereas Hanh was a teen; Merton was constrained by his monastic traditions and cloistered life while Hanh was much freer and eventually started his own order; Merton found himself drawn every deeper to solitude while Hanh was very active and establish a number of monasteries and retreat centres. Nevertheless, they both stood against war and injustice and each did what they could to address these issues and inspire others to do the same, primarily through their writings.
Session three was "walking with monks in nature." They shared a couple of passages from each monk on their ideas about and experiences in nature, about how nature called them to deeply spiritual experiences and insights. Nature was very much a meditative canvas on which both monks painted poetic pictures that nourished them and gave them an appreciation of the greater whole. And with their words and some brief instructions, those of us that were able were invited outside to practice walking meditation around the convent. We took slow, mindful, deliberate steps. And with each ring of the small bell, we were encouraged to stop and take careful notice of our surroundings and anything we saw, heard, felt. I ended up alone and on the train tracks that ran behind the convent and noticed that I had a lot in common with Merton, which is why I was so drawn to him and his writing. I took in the sun and the breeze and tried to be fully myself while being aware that I felt more at home and more comfortable in solitude. I felt like just following the tracks to wherever they led, leaving everyone and the retreat behind. Not out of aversion towards them, but because of the peace I felt in that moment. As much as I am a social creature and like to have social interactions, I feel a distance between me and others and have a hard time bridging the gap. And often in solitude, I feel something deeper.
We all eventually returned to the retreat centre and were encouraged to discuss our experiences with each other. Peggy stopped by our table and mentioned how she noticed the difference between the wet, green, well-kept grass and the drier, brown, scratchy grass and how we're often drawn towards comfort and creating comfortable surroundings and circumstances but mused "what do we lose by going got comfort rather than reality?" It was an interesting question.
The fourth session focused on engaged spirituality. Much of this was about the response of Merton and Hanh to war, specifically the American war in Vietnam. And we were asked to think about how our spirituality engages with the big issues of today (e.g., climate change, violence, poverty, racism, etc.). A big theme was how a deep spirituality helped these two monks address these kinds of issues, both by nurturing a deep wellspring of compassion and empathy for the suffering of others and by helping to provide the mental and physical strength needed to endure difficult times. There were readings from each monk, as well as a discussion of the ways they spoke out and the difficulties they faced. Merton addressed these issues mostly in his writing, as he wasn't free to leave his monastery and be more physically present. Hanh, on the other had, spoke out against the war vocally and helped victims by creating an organization of volunteers to help rebuild rural school and establish medical centres, but he was eventually exiled from his homeland for 39 years for speaking out against the war, in which time he continued to speak out against a host of issues and established a number of monasteries and retreat centres. Hanh was convinced that if you create peace in yourself, you create peace in the world. There is no clear separation between self and other, individual and world. If you are full of anger, the world just has that much more anger in it. And if you act out of hate and anger, then you will be planting seeds for future hate and anger and suffering. As for Merton, it was noted that, at the time of his death, he'd found himself in the midst of an interfaith journey to Asia in a dialogue with Buddhists but has also found himself craving more and more solitude. And just a week before his death in 1968, Merton recorded a mystical awakening experience prompted by the reclining Buddhas in Polonnaruwa, Sri Lanka:
Looking at these figures I was suddenly, almost forcibly, jerked clean out of the habitual, half-tied vision of things, and an inner clearness, clarity, as if exploding from the rocks themselves, became evident and obvious. The queer evidence of the reclining figure, the smile, the sad smile of Ananda standing with arms folded (much more 'imperative' than Da Vinci's Mona Lisa because completely simple and straightforward). The thing about all this is that there is no puzzle, no problem, and really no 'mystery.' All problems are resolved and everything is clear, simply because what matters is clear. The rock, all matter, all life, is charged with dharmakaya . . . everything is emptiness and everything is compassion. I don't know when in my life I have ever had such a sense of beauty and spiritual validity running together in one aesthetic illumination. Surely, with Mahabalipuram and Polonnaruwa my Asian pilgrimage has come clear and purified itself. I mean, I know and have seen what I was obscurely looking for. I don't know what else remains but I have now seen and have pierced through the surface and have got beyond the shadow and the disguise.
And that kind of internal, unifying experience, when cultivated and matured, leads back outwards, as illustrated by Hanh in Zen and the Art of Saving the Planet:
If you see the suffering in the world but you haven't changed your way of living yet, it means the awakening isn't strong enough. You haven't really woken up. In Zen, sometimes a teacher will shout, or hit you, so you can wake up—they'll do whatever it takes. The Zen master's shout is like a crash of spring thunder. It wakes you up and, with the rains that follow, grasses and flowers will bloom.
The fifth and final section was pointed back towards us: how do you envision an engaged spirituality? At some point, Terry made the point about the importance of this nondual way of seeing and of and/both: action and contemplation, in breath and out breath, world and spirit, mindfulness and engagement, on the cushion and off the cushion, etc. In essence, they complement each other. It's not just one or the other, both are important and needed. We were invited to think about the question and to name an intention for ourselves for our spiritual engagement going forwards. My intention was to give more hope to the world and make it a better place than I found it, even if just a little. Part of that is trying to be a better person and not causing as much harm. And another is to be engaged with a spiritual community that's also engaged with social justice to help with that because I can't do it alone. I've felt demoralized and discouraged, and I need some motivation as well as guidance on ways to be involved, which is one of the things I'm hoping Spirit of Grace can help me with.
I've found through my own personal experience that, if you dig deep into yourself and find a well of love, compassion, and peace, there's often an urge to share that with others. And one of the ways to do that is to try and address and relieve the suffering of others as much as possible. To cease doing harm when you're the one causing it. To acknowledge and take a stand against injustice and with the victim of that injustice. And that's not easy. The roots of our own suffering and unskillful actions run deep. And the problems of the world have complex and often omnipresent causes that will take great effort and a lot of time to fix. So we need to find ways to renew our strength and motivation (fresh flower). We need patience and solid footing (mountain). We need to see clearly, to find ways of doing it effectively (still water). We need to be open to new ideas and people and ways of doing things (space). And we need to know what we can offer. I don't entirely know what I can offer at this stage in my life, but I have a few ideas. One thing I'm doing is trying to fight for an enlightened religion that's based on love, compassion, and peace. I'm trying to offer what empathy and healing I can at work. I want to dedicate some of my time and money to good causes with the right direction. And perhaps someday, offer something to the world with my writing as well.
After the retreat, I stopped at Mount Angel Abbey's Benedictine Brewery to pick up a couple of beers for my friend for his birthday and happened to have a chance to talk to the brewmaster, Fr. Martin. I asked him about some of the beers and which ones were from his recipes, as well as about his journey to the monastery. He was an engineer at Honeywell making really good money before someone suggested he visit the monastery, and something about the place and the life of a monk called to him. He said that the decision to become a monk wasn't necessarily an easy one, but he knew that it was the right one once he was there. I mentioned my own interest in monasticism and experiences at various monasteries and how I felt called to monastic life yet wasn't sure if it was the right thing for me, and he invited me to contact Fr. Odo if I was interested in attending one of their discernment retreats. It's definitely something I'll consider.
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