“Practice all day every day.”

In the mornings now here in the jungle, I sit with a stick of incense as my timer. Starting before dawn and often before the well-orchestrated chorus of birds and insects begins. They chime in one at a time. Each in a seemingly prescribed order that, at first, I took to be a random pattern. But there at the same time in the same place day after day, I noticed is not random at all. First one and then the next they wake up and call out in a very orderly fashion. Not trying to drown one another out, but one waiting until the other has finished until they find the right rhythm, tossing their tunes back and forth seamlessly. And then the sun rises. Sometimes breathtaking, sometimes low-key, just grey clouds. Always beautiful.

I first started a sitting practice back in the late 70’s when I was going through turmoil. I picked up a book on meditating after my best friend recommended “Zen Mind Beginner’s Mind.” I cleared out a storage closet, arranged a piece of carpeting on the floor and hung a tapestry on the wall. The book said to light a candle or some incense. Being thorough, I did both, just to cover my bases. And I almost asphyxiated from the smoke which put me off incense until all these years later when I found a place to sit with lots of air circulation. It’s at the top of my list every day, all these years later. Sit, practice, followed by other things I want and don’t want to do. I’m good at lists. Doing rather than being. That second part, just being there has taken time. So, I start the day with sitting. I sit down, sit up, and sit still. Like a “good” meditator. Until I don’t. On those days when the body, heart, or mind resist. When there’s a background tension in the legs as if they’re ready to engage and leap up to get me out of the situation. When I hover above the cushion or feel like I’m dozing off. When the lump in my throat or the pain in my core and images of profound suffering all over the place dominate. It happens too when the birds start talking in English, “I’m sorry.” “Tony.” “Pretty thing.” Or “Who?” they say as my mind resists letting go into its capacity for deeper levels of awareness.

Doing rather than being. I’m good at that. Guarding myself against what’s before me as if that will solve anything. On those days when I resist, I notice the resistance. Sometimes that opens a doorway for the mind to soften into the heart where all the distractions and confusion and suffering help to give meaning, depth, and life to the impossible. With softness of mind, I see things I can do or ways I can be that serve the situation.
Not always. But sometimes.

As the new year dawns and I’m increasingly aware of how much time I’ve frittered away resisting what’s before me, I feel a sense of urgency. Who knows how much time I or any of us have left? So, when the adductors twitch as I sit, or the mind seizes the moment and distracts me again, I notice sooner than I did when I sat in that closet. This year once more, I aim to join together with others and iron out differences or misunderstandings, to live from the heart and stay embodied as best I can, so I don’t miss the sound of birds that are there to remind us of who we really are.

…Showing this musing to Richard, he smiled and said, “Practice all day every day.” A line that made me pause even the first time I heard him say it in a class over 40 years ago, and one I sometimes have to remind even Richard, himself, of from time to time.

From the two of us to you, here’s wishing that 2024 is a year of transformation.
May avenues of communication, tolerance, kindness, and compassion be cleared and may we find our way to peace in this troubled world.