Accessible Buddhist reading

[candice]

I find that for those not familiar with Buddhist teachings, or for those who grew up in a very traditional 'non Eastern philosophy' household, it is sometimes hard to take in the writing of many Buddhist teachers and scholars. It can be confusing trying to keep straight the Noble Truths, the Eightfold Path, and the Five Precepts, let alone the many writings from the various Buddhist traditions, which can contradict each other!

My husband, who used to practice at the Montreal Zen Centre, introduced me to the writings of Sylvia Boorstein. She is a Buddhist teacher who writes in a very accessible way, avoiding a lot of jargon and using lots of storytelling as a teaching tool. One book in particular that I enjoyed was "It's Easier Than You Think", which is a collection of various short stories taken from her personal experiences. Each is designed to show you something or teach you something, but is never preachy. And because it is a short book with short stories, it is nice light reading, perfect for those days when you can only grab a few minutes for yourself.

[Celtaur]

I borrowed this book from the library, and read most of it (had to return it before I completed it). It was definitely easy to understand. I'm used to reading books that are more of a reference nature, rather than stories so it was a nice change of pace. The stories brought concepts together in a practical manner that can be applied in every day life, I remember that but for the life of me, I can't recall the stories though.

Is there anything in the book you found particularly interesting that made any "light-bulbs" flash that could refresh my memory?

[candice]

Nothing in the book made me suddenly go 'that's it!' but there were a lot of moments I'd be smiling at the pages or nodding my head in agreement with some piece of wisdom Sylvia was sharing. I like to read bits and pieces of the book every so often, to remind me of things I am prone to forget.

There are two stories in particular that have stayed with me. Someone else has transcribed the stories to their blog, and I have cut and pasted them to you guys.


"But It's My Bench!"

Many, many years ago I was doing some weeks of intensive meditation retreat practice. In those days I not only used a cushion to sit on but also kept a bench nearby so I could switch to the bench if I got tired of the cushion. I had a lot of anxiety that my body might hurt me, and I felt I needed to have every possible aid with me. I also sat against the back wall of the meditation hall so I could lean on the wall for support if I needed it.

One afternoon, I was sitting quite relaxed at my spot near the back wall, on my cushion with the bench right next to me. Suddenly, I heard some rustling movement near me. I opened my eyes a tiny bit and saw a hand reach down, take my bench, and walk away with it. Then I saw the person who took it put it down at some distance from me and sit down on it. The person was a new arrival whom I had not yet seen at the retreat.

A volcano of irritability exploded in my mind. It was very "righteous" irritability. He had my bench! At that moment it didn't matter at all that I had a cushion and that my body was quite comfortable. Nor did it matter to me that there were extra supplies of cushions and benches that I knew were available from any of the retreat managers. That person was sitting on my bench. I spent many agitated hours composing recriminating notes in my mind, addressed to the person who had taken my bench. I never wrote a real note, but my mind relentlessly devised every possible note that I might send. The notes progressed from coldly cordial to mildly sarcastic to outright demanding. Every day the same man sat on my bench, clearly not giving it a second thought. Each time I entered the meditation hall, my anger rose to a new level.

As days passed and my bench showed no sign of returning, a new worry that this person would actually take my bench home with him further escalated my anger. I started to dislike every single thing about that person. I disliked the way he walked, how he sat, and how he ate his food. One day, just after a lunch when I had not liked the way in which he'd washed his dishes, I returned to the meditation hall for the afternoon sitting and found that my bench was back in its original place right beside me. The person who had used it was gone. He had apparantly arrived at the retreat late and left early. Suddenly my mind cleared. It was as if it had been filled with a storm for five days. I realized I had spent all that time in a storm over the whereabouts of a bench I didn't need. The whole experience felt bizarre. I had used up incredible energy. I was amazed. I thought to myself, "Is this the way I do my whole life?"

Even If It's Senseless, Mushrooms Matter

My friend Alta's life was a lesson to me, and her death was a lesson to me too. She enjoyed good health for seventy-nine years, then quite suddenly she became desperately ill, and it was clear she would die soon. She accepted this awareness with her normal consummate grace. That was half the lesson she taught me.
The other half was about what makes sense. On the last day Alta could talk to me, two days before she died, we talked about meaning.
"I'm thinking about the meaning of it all," she said, "and it doesn't seem very important. What do you think?"
"Maybe it's 'much ado about nothing," I said.
"Seems like that," she replied, adding, "You did a good eulogy for your father."
"I'll do yours, too."
"I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble..."
"Give me a break, Alta! What do you want me to say?"
"It doesn't matter. Say anything you want."
"How about if I give your recipe for the great marinated mushrooms you make?"
"That's a good idea. They were very good. People liked them a lot."
"Do you remember the recipe? You could give it to me now."
"Not exactly. Look it up. It's in my recipe box. Remember to say they shouldn't be made more than four hours before you eat them. The mushrooms wilt."
Mushrooms are as meaningful as anything else.

[Celtaur]

"But it's My Bench!"

I remember that story actually. Yes, it's so easy to have our thoughts gravitate toward what the ego wants at times. All that lost time thinking about how much you dislike, or are irritated by what someone else has done.

It seems that person was a gift in disguise though, because the lesson is something she won't easily forget. It had to become such an obvious distraction that was overpowering her life for her to finally get the lesson of how much more peace there is in letting go. With all the emotions she was feeling, resentment and anger, she was unconscious to the fact that she wasn't in control of her emotions, she wasn't aware that she was unable to step back and be the observer.

I think we all know this experience well, it inevitably happens to all of us from time to time until we get back on track and remember the lesson's in the illusions we create for ourselves. Instead of being at peace, her attention was deeply distracted. It's a reflection of what we all have experienced in our daily lives, and in meditation. The wandering, chattering mind.