From Bodhidharma Anthology by Jeffrey Broughton: Entering through practice – equanimity
The second entrance to the path is through the practice of following conditions or (Red Pine) adapting to conditions.
(S)entient beings lack a self and are all whirled around by conditions and karma; suffering and joy are to be equally accepted, for both arise from conditions.
When life throws up these dust storms that blind me or the days grow darker and darker, my support circles point to the light at the end of the tunnel. I understand that in their love for us and their wish to speed up the journey through the dark or bumpy parts, they’d like us to look into the distance and grasp that this experience is impermanent. However, it’s a risky process which can carry us too quickly away from the reality of what is right here.
The light at the end of the tunnel is actually more useful when it shines right here in tunnel at my feet.
Bodhidharma’s teachings suggest that we are vulnerable to being swept away by the winds of joy and the dust storms of suffering. To attach to each one unduly makes no sense because the conditions that created them are not sustainable. (Oh yes, I can definitely continue to make myself miserable but that’s not the same misery I started out with. Check it out for yourself!) To reject either unconsciously is dangerous because this creates a loss of intimacy with ourselves and others. To become confused about the origins of them is pointless because the causes and conditions lie in an intricate and oft-times tangled web of action and reaction.
Unmoved by the winds of joy*, one is mysteriously in accordance with the path.
Now you may thank that this reduces you to zombie-like blob, careening off the walls and lamp posts of your path. At their extreme, all statements are untenable and likely false. To be unmoved is to be steady in the experience of joy, to be connected deeply with it. So deeply that there is a spaciousness that arises which can contain the entire spectrum of variability in each joy, sorrow, contentment, pain, love, and anguish.
The adaptability we practice is not to the great brush strokes of impermanence. It is to the rhythmic variation in the winds of joy and woe.
Auguries of Innocence
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
*”Winds of Joy here may refer to the eight winds or eight worldly conditions. For a brilliant story read here.
This connects a bit with today’s Ox Herding post (I think). When we *know* our joy and sorrows, rather than simply being swept along by them, then perhaps we can be *unmoved* while experiencing them fully. Just as Raven fully knows his predatory nature, even though he no longer preys on anyone.
I thought it resonates with yesterday’s Ox Herding too.
In feminist literature, it’s “meeting the madwoman.” Going into the Hell Realms. All of it. We don’t need to worry about going over to the Dark side… we’re here already. 😀
Genju, these writings are truly “enlightened” writings – your reflections I mean,,, I may joke around a lot, but I am deeply moved by your writings this week, and appreciate their depth – giving me pause, as I ingest every word… Bows
Oh thank you, my friend! I’m feeling very much off my game. But perhaps these readings are challenging my deeper nature which makes them so hard to write about.