Sounds

Sitting with the intent of cultivating a gentle presence, a gentle awareness. My first impression is of the peacefulness of silence. Then I begin to hear things: the rumbling of my stomach as it digests my food. I hear the ringing in my ears, a high-pitched white noise effect. I hear the droning sound of an engine from outside. It seems like it arrives in waves, as if the sound is baffled by the buildings between me and its source. I recognize the sound as a train engine as soon as I hear the horn. My thoughts seem to have a sound to them, thinking and categorizing these various sounds: sounds that come from within my body, sounds that come from outside, sounds that others can hear, sounds that only I can hear. There are sounds that are not really sounds: thoughts that are formed into words in my mind which would have sound if spoken. There are imaginary sounds: I think I hear a sound like crickets singing, but I think it's formed in my mind from the interaction of all the other sounds. And then silence, and I go away into a sleepy state where I experience no sound, no awareness, no presence. I only know I've been there when awareness returns.

Jousting with Ego

March 2, 2008

I have not been in the basement meditation room all winter. The bonsai has died. The vase of roses has long since wilted and dried. But still the fragrance of roses lingers in the air. I feel comforted by the statue of Quan Yin pouring water into the mouths of dragons. I notice my tendency to make even this simple act of just sitting into a story. As I sit and watch the gymnastics of my mind, I am aware of feeling the narcissism of looking into the mirror of my own mind. And what do I see? I see the difficulty of seeing anything from any point of view but the viewpoint of my own consciousness. I have no other way of perceiving or experiencing. I wonder at the possibility of ever being able to have an objective viewpoint when looking at my own mind or anything else. The ego speaks up to say, "Oh, how clever of you to see this issue of looking at your own mind." I feel uncomfortable sitting here conversing with ego. And the ego adds, "How brave and fearless you are to face me." Then I say, "This is not what I want meditation to be about." I seriously wonder how to get beyond this ego-identification. I don't even know what it would feel like not to be identified with ego, how it would feel to get beyond little self and experience the oneness of Self. I don't know if this is even a valid goal of meditation. I experience a slight quieting of the mind and a short time of just being present in the body, which makes this session of meditation worth the struggle with ego.