Friday, 29 May 2009

At home in the muddy water...

Yesterday evening I was sitting outside the front of the house and everything was coming forward.

A blackbird improvising blackbird-jazz. The large noise of the traffic. Fat deep pink peony buds hiding behind the gate. Flakes of skin in my cat's fur. A plane's twin trails of fluffy smoke.

For years now, I've made it a daily practice to notice one thing properly and write it down. I call these snippets of writing small stones and they live here.

For the past few months I've struggled to find my daily small stone. I've had to trawl through my days backwards, searching for a single something and pinning it down by force.

Yesterday evening small stones presented themselves to me wherever I looked. It wasn't the world that had changed, it was me.

How can we move towards this clear seeing way-of-being? How can we become more engaged with the world?

I only have one answer so far. Practice. Practice noticing. Practice noticing when you're not engaged. Sit still. Let things settle. It takes a LONG TIME for things to settle, and but if we can notice one thing properly every day, isn't that a start?

I feel lucky. I have my small stones and my writing as a barometer, to help me keep a kind eye on myself. I have found a great deal to help me in the Zen literature. But when all is said and done, it just comes down to sitting still.

Here's what one of those clever Zen teacher types has to say on the matter. Bayda presents several reasons for having a formal meditation practice - one of them is this.

Picture a clear glass of water with a layer of mud at the bottom. Imagine stirring up the water so it becomes muddy. This muddy water is our substitute life - swirling with anxiety and confusion. We race around trying to keep up, but with little clarity about what we're doing. Taking this glass and setting it down is like setting ourselves down to sit. What happens? In the glass, the mud gradually settles to the bottom, and water becomes clear and still. [...] Over time, sitting fosters a settled quality, an equanimity, in the midst of the muddy turmoil of our lives.

Ezra Bayda, from At Home in the Muddy Water

Here's to settling down, and clear seeing. ENJOY your weekends.

8 comments:

Printemps said...

Meditation is an elusive journey…apparently!
The moment you know you are still…you are actually asleep,
So it requires considerable amount of stirring of the mud within for that ..what ever you wanna call it to comes, I don’t have a name.

Megan said...

Thank you Fiona. The sun is certainly helping with illuminating the small stones around here (-:

Angie Ledbetter said...

Small stones everywhere
Just waiting to be observed.
Will you pocket one?

Red Bird said...

Oh, I really enjoyed this, Fiona- considering my life is so "unsettled" right now with a big move looming and all that goes with that...
I find when I do sit still to- or have a chance to do that- my mind is never present with my surroundings- oh, I shouldn't say never, but it automatically goes to worry more now these days. Moving is stressful!
I'll be happy when the mud starts to settle and I can take more time to notice the small stones in my life...
:)

ying_ko_4 said...

It's good advice. Yesterday for me was one of those times when my mind was abuzz with energy, but the noise of it all was such that nothing striking came of it.

So, some hot tea and light reading and I am more able to think clearly. The small stones and big joys in life are more easily recognized.

It all comes down to not just seeing, but observing. I believe a famous fictional detective or British origin spoke of that.

Emma said...

I really love the 'blackbird-jazz' observation, I would certainly welcome some blackbird-jazz improv. at the moment!

It is amazing how much more enriched my life feels when I can remember to stop and take notice.

Fiona Robyn said...

Thank you all for your comments :)

jem said...

I get the same thing happen with my haiku as you do with your stones. Sometimes I want to believe that noticing is about me. But sometimes I truly think the world stores them up, it appears to offer nothing for days, just to tease me a bit, and then it rains them down on me so fast I can barely catch them all on my open page.