It’s been four short, humbling years of Zen; one year since taking the precepts, when I entered the stream of the teachings in earnest.
The second precept of the sixteen to which I’ve committed, Being Satisfied with What I Have, has been working on me in these summer months. Seems my entire family is in a collective practice of release. Objects, pieces of once-coveted clothing, email subscriptions. Shoes, even. My son’s room looks as pristine as if I’d swept through there and tended to every detail, except it was all him.
Each time I let go of a pile, a bag, some new clarity emerges regarding how little I need. So I’m asking this question multiple times daily.
What do I really need in this closet, this drawer, my mind, my life?
Agnes Martin, Untitled, from On A Clear Day, 1973.
When a client asked specifically about the matter of clutter this week, I shared with her how unneeded objects in my view seem to disturb my nervous system. Then another teacher offered that if we were to actually examine our motivations for collecting things, most of the stuff we’ve amassed is to impress someone else. Which sent a little shiver of self-honesty through my being.
Somehow this entire inquiry reminds me of a quote from Sensei Kathie Fischer, from a talk she gave earlier this year at Upaya.
“After a while, the intellect ceases to disturb; it’s like the sound of birds.”
In sitting with this, particularly on quiet midsummer mornings, birds on our porch singing to one another the most melodious, patient songs, I can see how this happens when I turn the light inward. In these emptier-shelved, now-simpler rooms, something’s opening within me, as though I’m able to listen with new ears, less disturbance.
Meditation begins. First, the list of what’s on today in my mind: What’s needed, who’s involved, where to, what time. Let it all unfurl; today’s anticipated efficiencies, varied obstacles. The list.
Next, an inexplicable transformation of those many words into meaningless syllables, something akin to musical notes, “like the sound of birds.” When the intellect ceases to disturb.
In practical, practice terms: A quick set of instructions for you, both written and in audio for your listening.
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