Back in Nepal, at the meditation center, during those times when the pain of extended sitting was pretty well under control, my assigned task turned to "labeling" my thoughts, observing them, and trying to "understand their nature." The effort required to do this was almost more frustrating than the pain of sitting, due in no small part to my mistaken belief that since it was, after all, my own mind I was dealing with, it should be easy enough for me to, if not control it, then at least organize it. It was disturbing for me to be made aware of the relative independence of my thoughts and the apparent contradiction that goes along with that fact; how can my thoughts be independent from me? If I am not running the show, then who the hell is? As I sat there, eyes closed, cross-legged on a pile of pillows in front of a golden statue of Buddha, I would attempt to focus on the rise and fall of my breathing, but my mind constantly turned to the future. I’ll get out of here on Friday, stay in Lumbini at Garden Lodge, catch the bus to Pokhara, check my email, move back to The States, get a job in Thailand, take a motorcycle journey from Boston to Portland, learn to speak Chinese, re-read Gravity’s Rainbow….. Somewhere in this stream I would stop, label the action, “planning”, observe it, try to know its nature, and return my attention to the rise and fall of breath. But by Day Three my mind had gotten used to this trick and discovered that it wasn’t necessary to wait long before getting back to planning; it could start again the instant I finished labeling. I mentioned this maddening frustration to The Monk during our brief, daily meeting, and as always, he responded as if he expected the question and had heard it quite often, which were both most likely true. “First, your desire for success, and the associated frustration, is itself an object, which you should label, observe, and know its nature. Next, do not be concerned if you are planning. Simply label it each time. If you must label it one thousand times in an hour, then do so. Don’t try to wrestle your mind for control, just observe the most dominant object, whatever it may be.” As always, The Monk’s advice had a profound simplicity that I thought was both obvious and wise. I endeavored to follow his advice, and found a small measure of success, but still my mind rebelled, and again and again I would find myself floating with my stream of thoughts, completely without awareness, planning some inconsequential part of the next hour, or day, or year. The struggle against Planning, along with its less persistent cousin, Remembering, filled my entire world during the second half of my week at the Panditarama Meditation Center. By the time my last day arrived I was exhausted and couldn’t wait to walk out the door and finally let my mind do as it pleased.
These last days in Indonesia, I am planning again. My mind is in the future; a day, a week, a month, a year, five years. Yesterday I sat on my hotel bed and tried to focus my mind in the way I had practiced nine months ago, but I lasted only eleven minutes before it all fell apart. I am aware that having a plan is necessary, but also that this type of mental itch-scratching is useless and even counter-productive; and still my awareness of this futility does nothing to slow down my mind, and I find myself again wondering about this conflict between me and my thoughts. I wrestle with the problem on and off throughout the day, until I realize, thankfully, that I’m not a monk. So I will plan to walk up the ridge to look at the rice fields today and then I’ll have a beer with a new friend tonight and then I’ll work on the farm in Thailand and I'll fly to Boston and then Portland and I’ll find a job and I’ll take a deep breath and try to relax and let those moments come.
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