Measure Life in Inches, not Milestones
Have you ever noticed that a good friend drops whatever they are doing in order to give you their full attention? This is a but a moment in time in your friends life, but this seemingly insignificant moment that he or she completely dedicates to you adds up to milestones in your mutual relationship.
What we plan to do tomorrow, or what we have done in the past is not significant. If your friend, instead of listening to you with complete attention is thinking of what he or she has to do later, then the moment is lost for both of you. It is what we do in this very moment, and how we do it, that influences our destiny.
I remember a few “inch” incidents in 1978 during my time at Shasta Abbey, a Zen monastery in northern California. The first was on the third day of a three day endless downpour. Everything was soppy and subdued, as were my spirits. I was helping a monk dig a grave in the impervious rock up there at the base of Mt. Shasta, and as my frustrations increased I remarked, “What a crummy day.”
The monk kept digging. Then, almost as if under his breath, or as if he were talking to himself, he whispered with his head down, “But it's the only one I have.”
I guess I will never forget that because I tend to look ahead and want more out of life than is offered. And yet, what is offered in this very moment is always so full. My busy mind just doesn't recognize the sacredness of it all.
Another incident was while I was drying dishes and thinking about what I should do next; remain at the monastery or move on with my life. And while I was knee-deep in doubts, a dish slipped out of my hands and broke on the floor. A female Roshi began helping me clean up the glass, and as if she was reading my mind said, “Just concentrate on what you are doing now, Edward, be in this very moment. Thats all we can handle well.”
Another time, just after days of intensive meditation, I found myself weeping as I gazed at such a simple thing as some shiny pine needles glinting in the early morning sunlight. I heard someone behind me and felt a hand on my shoulder. It was one of the male Roshis that I had gotten to know quite well.
“I'm going to have to leave all of this behind someday,” I sobbed with tear-filled eyes, as I pointed to the pine needles.
“Yes you will, Edward,” the monk replied, “and it will be okay. There are just these pine needles now, you are already gone, and thats enough.”
I immediately had a flash of no self where I was truly absent. And he was right, it was okay. As a matter of fact, it was one of the most liberating moments of my life.
It's difficult to explain inches. Milestones seem much more significant; “I did this with my life, I accomplished this and that,” and in all of this there seems to be the important one who accomplishes and does.
Inches are too small to incorporate all of that. Inches don't recognize importance, and are much too swift to dilly-dally with a personality. Inches are all about truth.
The future is uncertain, the past but a dream. Only right now do we have this opportunity to be a complete human being. The next inch is right before us; let us perfect it. If we are cutting vegetables, let's do it to the utmost of our ability and creativity, not just mechanically while we are lost in our fantasies.
If we had children, we say after they are gone, “What happened to the years? Where were we when they were growing up?” We were there, but we weren't present.
Being present in every moment, along each inch of our way requires tremendous understanding; knowing that it all changes and that we cannot hold on to anything, yet in this very moment we have it all.
Understanding that life will unleash its arrows that will find their marks in our hearts, but nevertheless this very moment, this inch along our way, always completes us.
And realizing that in this moment, along this very small, seemingly insignificant inch of our lives, lies everything except us, because in this moment, along this inch, there is no room for us; there is only room for the truth, for reality, for eternity.
Anagarika eddie is a meditation teacher at the Dhammabucha Rocksprings Meditation Retreat Sanctuary www.dhammarocksprings.org and author of A Year to Enlightenment. His 30 years of meditation experience has taken him across four continents including two stopovers in Thailand where he practiced in the remote northeast forests as an ordained Thervada Buddhist monk.
He livedatWatPah Nanachat under AjahnChah, at WatPah Baan Taad under AjahnMaha Boowa,and at Wat Pah Daan Wi Weg under Ajahn Tui. He had been a postulant at ShastaAbbey,a Zen Buddhist monastery in northern California under RoshiKennett; and a Theravada Buddhist anagarikaat both AmaravatiMonastery in the UK and BodhinyanaramaMonastery in New Zealand, both under AjahnSumedho.The author has meditated with the Korean MasterSuengSahnSunim; with BhanteGunaratana at the Bhavana Society in West Virginia; and with the Tibetan Master TrungpaRinpoche in Boulder, Colorado. He has also practiced at the InsightMeditation Society in Barre, Massachusetts, and the ZenCenterin San Francisco.
Discussion Area - Leave a Comment