I was reading through my journal last night, and came across the most beautiful, stunning advice for writers. It didn't come from me. Here is the excerpt; it's from a story that ran in Tricycle Magazine, and was said by Thuksey Rinpoche:

"The most beautiful paintings and sculptures, the greatest poetry, have not always been born from torment or bitterness. Often they have sprung from contemplation, from joy, from an instinct or wonder toward all things. To create from joy, to create from wonder, demands a continual discipline, a great compassion. With time and sincerity, you will discover a way to work and write that does not harm you spiritually, that does not tempt you to vanity, that is the deepest expression of your spirituality. You will find a voice that is not your voice only, but the voice of Reality itself... If you can be empty enough, that voice can speak through you. If you can be humble enough, that voice can inhabit and use you."

Thuksey Rinpoche.

Love it. This is the kind of writing I want to master.

Artwork credit: Confucius Lao-tzu and Buddhist Arhat 三教, by 丁云鹏 (Ding Yunpeng). Hanging scroll, ink and color on paper. Size 115.7 x 55.8 cm. The painting is located in the Palace Museum, Beijing.

My meditation practice seems to continually swing between success and lonely pain. The latter occurs when I haven't been to a Buddhist Center or temple for a while, when I've been sitting on my cushion all alone and the blessings seem to have flown out the window.

I am struck by the stubborn rigid nature of my mind. The voice that firmly states 'I CANNOT meditate. I WILL NOT meditate. So don't even try." I give in to this voice. I attempt a 2-minute spin, and then give up; press play to i-tunes so that I can finish the rest of the prayers.

I don't even give myself a chance to settle.

I see the same problem in my writing practice. Before I've really had a chance to let loose and write, the critic pipes up and informs me that my writing is rubbish so stand up, go do the washing up, do some more work, make a cup of tea. I get up and abandon the work. Before I've even begun.

How do I get around this problem?

I suppose that the first step, is to move beyond the wall, the clamps that come down. I need to remember the sight of the sea kites soaring in the thermals rising from Victoria Peak, the effortless flight that comes about when we stop manically flapping our own wings and give in to a greater force. I need to remember the sheer joy that comes from a calm, happy and focused dissolution of mind. I need to move my attention from my brain down to my root mind, the vacuole at the heart chakra. I need to be patient. I need to be kind. I need to remember bodhichitta, that it's the wish to help all sentient beings that is driving this meditation session–not the mind of self-cherishing...

And finally, I need to ask for help. I need to bring my hands to my heart, create the shape of a mandala with my fingers and offer the universe to the holy beings. Ask them for help. Because the biggest realization I think I have had in my meditation practice, is coming to see that we're not alone as we sit on the cushion. If we manage to get beyond that screaming narrative of the intellect, and bring our awareness right down into our root mind. If we are able to dissolve the torrent of waves back into the stillness of that deep place. Then we are connecting to our Buddha nature. And we are connecting to the realized mind that permeates all matter. And that nagging little self, the source of all our problems, just melts into the clear light.




Photo credit: Wing Chi