Sit still and don’t interfere

A week’s gone by since I returned from a silent retreat at a Zen monastery. Some of  what I learned there has crystallized into what may be fundamental truths*. The first one I’ll name, “Sit still and don’t interfere.” It arises from an incident at mid-week, when the teacher asked me, out of the blue and without time to prepare, to give a talk on the retreat’s theme of “gratitude.” I delivered a rambling collection of impressions, bits of Mary Oliver and Rumi from memory, odd insights from my lived experience – all to illustrate how thankfulness and generosity permeate my life.

Returning to my seat, my excited mind kept replaying what I’d said, critiquing, revising and refining in my imagination. Over and over. Trying to calm down, I tried to regulate my breath, to bring awareness to the There and Then, but to little avail. Monkey Mind was out of control.

Mercy came in the form of a bell, announcing my  turn for dokusan with the teacher. “How’s your practice?” he asked the moment I’d completed my bows. Reporting my inability to calm down, I fully expected close questioning and words of practical advice. Instead, he looked me in the eyes and said, “Let’s sit together.” No technique, no deep thoughts: simply two beings sitting on the floor, letting silence do its work. “Don’t try, just sit,” he cautioned the moment he noticed my attempts at slow breathing. In less than a minute, body and mind grew quiet. The bell rang to end the interview, I bowed again and returned to my cushion, grinning.

Instead of fighting my inner busyness, trying to analyze, change, or make it go away, I was reminded of the most basic rule of meditation: Welcome everything, push away nothing. Sit still and don’t interfere. The moment I ceased trying, my mind returned to its natural alignment.

* Similar to the aphorisms or “slogans” in the Tibetan lojong practice.