Of course I didn't actually do that. After Sangha was over I spent the rest of the evening far less productively. But my scribbled note to myself is still sitting on my desk, scowling at me. Maybe I should give it a try.
The passage we were reading started with Thay [Thich Nhat Hanh] talking about freedom. "When you have just five minutes without letting craving, projects, or anxiety carry you away, you become a free person with nothing to do and nowhere to go." [p. 131] Well yes, the phrase "nothing to do and nowhere to go" does indeed characterize the aimlessness that I described before. But Thay is looking at it from the perspective of the person who is overworked and overscheduled. For that person, five minutes of freedom is a blessing. Sometimes perspective is everything.
A little later on, he describes sitting meditation like this:
"We sit to be in touch with all the wonders of the cosmos, of life, in the present moment. There is no other aim. We just sit, and we don't need to do anything. We don't even need to get enlightened. We just sit to be happy. We sit to have peace and joy. Sitting is not hard labor. In the Soto Zen tradition, they speak of 'sitting for the sake of sitting,' or 'simply sitting.' We don't sit to do something. You only need to sit." [p. 133]
Well that's interesting. I've certainly done a lot of "just siting" since I got back from Scotland, but I haven't gotten a lot of "peace and joy" out of it. Maybe it's because I've been compulsively scrolling through Twitter at the same time, instead of keeping in touch with the present moment. To be fair, Twitter is awfully addictive. But yes, I suppose I could close the window. Or never open it.
Then Sister True Dedication speculates about why "we" don't do this:
"The problem about coming back and landing in the present moment is what we find when we get there. Do you think that's why we avoid it so much? As soon as we come back to our body and close our eyes, we discover we're full of everything we've been experiencing and all the images, sounds, and feelings that come with it. If the world feels broken already, why would we want to feel that more?" [p. 134]
Here, I'm not so sure. Unlike many who are the main target audience for this book (at any rate judging from the title), I don't really think the planet needs us to save her. I'm pretty sure the planet will still be here, still teeming with life, long after we are but a distant memory. So I don't think it is political-ecological angst that is driving me to distraction. But there may be something. I don't know for sure … because I haven't tried the experiment of just sitting without distraction.
After a couple more pages, Thay asks, "What should I do with my life? … How can we choose the kind of job where we can be more at peace with ourselves and more helpful to the world?" [p. 138] Although I haven't posted it yet [Update nine days later: I have now.] one of the essays I still want to write about my thoughts from the West Highland Way is about this very question: what do I really want to do with the time that I have left before I die, a span of time which might be considerable? Anyway, Thay answers his own question as follows:
"Deciding what to do is a question of deciding how we want to be. Doing is a way of being. What is essential is that, while you do it, you enjoy it and you are fully offering your presence to the world and to yourself. Anything is good. It depends on how you do it, not what you do." [p. 138]
So I have to enjoy it? Does that mean that compulsively scrolling Twitter counts after all? (I mean, that's a kind of enjoyment.) Well no, because I also have to offer my presence fully to the world and to myself. So compulsively scrolling Twitter isn't any better on this scale than compulsively drinking.
Maybe I should spend less time on Twitter and more time meditating. I'll let you know how it goes.
(Also maybe I should drink less, but that's another post altogether.)
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