THE GREAT WALL, pt 2 - MEDITATION
Now, when I sit for evening meditation, before I even get near the Wall I am assaulted by a torrent of worry. This is the Wall’s first line of defense. In this game the Wall acts as a sponge and then a cannon; it absorbs the worry bouncing around in the void of my mind and flings it back out at me like so many fiery arrows. On a bad day this is enough to deter me and I retreat, back into the physical world and some cheap distraction, or into the oblivion of sleep. But on an average day I withstand worry – reminding myself that it’s little more than Brain Rain – and I trudge on up the hill, up the slippery embankment towards the Wall.
Now the Wall plays a special trick. It pretends it isn’t there. I approach where the Wall should be and I can’t see it. Instead I see the faint twinkling of unknown diamond worlds in the distance, suddenly within grasp. And in a surge of excitement, I rush forward: straight into the Wall.
The Wall has knocked me on my ass; I look up at the Wall and see now that the twinkling lights are just chimera, sequins in a special Disco Cloak the Wall wears to trick me. Whether or not the cloak resembles what’s actually beyond the Wall, I cannot say. Perhaps it’s something even better. Perhaps it’s some horrible hell. Either way I must know.
Why does the Wall taunt me? “Why do you taunt me?” I ask the Wall. But the Wall says nothing. It doesn’t know why it’s the Wall. It just is Wall. The Wall says nothing and I know that it doesn’t have an answer. Now, on an average day, this is infuriating enough to send me packing. “Fuck you, Wall – you and your bullshit tricks.” And down the hill I go, back to the world of distraction and worry.
But now, if it’s a good day, I simply sit down at the base of the Wall. I face the Wall. “Two can play this game,” I say to the Wall. I sit as still and stubborn as the Wall does, and I wait for it to open up and let me pass. And this is the practice, because in order to sit there properly, I have to accept the fact that the Wall may never let me pass. I know this possibility, and yet I sit anyway.
(Now some might say that this is all there is to meditation. This IS the practice. Ah-hah! You’ve got it! So simple! But indeed, we know that can’t be all. After all, the Buddha might have decided to sit under the Bodhi tree until he achieved enlightenment or until he died – sort of an “enlightenment or bust” type of arrangement – but the whole point is that he DID reach enlightenment. If he had died instead, there wouldn’t be much of a story to tell, except maybe a footnote: a cautionary tale about a fool who starved himself under a tree.
So this is my situation at the foot of the Wall. I sit there as IF willing to sit there forever, but in the back of my mind I know I am sitting there expecting to win the battle in the end. In the match up of me vs. Wall, I am betting on me. But wouldn’t it be more Buddha-like not to bet at all? Yeah, but I’m not Buddha. I’m trying to become Buddha. But then, of course, Buddhism says, “No – you’re not becoming, rather you already ARE Buddha.” So I’m already Buddha. Okay, but then why this fucking wall?)
So sitting at the foot of the Wall, on a good day, I begin to assess the Wall a bit. And I find that it’s nearly impossible to look directly at it. It keeps changing shapes and colors before me, and yet I never lose the sense of its immovable solidity. The Wall exists in a state of paradox, and I can’t pin it down. I know it’s there, but I basically can’t see it. If I could see it, maybe I could discover a crack, or a hidden door, or some kind of clue.
I focus my attention even harder. Looking at this wall is like trying to catch the wind in a jar. Even the IDEA of it is beyond comprehension, let alone the actual DOING of it. And if I can’t even SEE the Wall, how am I ever to get past it?
Again, I consider that maybe the whole point is to just sit here and never get past the Wall. But if that’s all there is to it – why even bother with the Wall? Why not lose myself in a hazy dream of decadence and forget the Wall even exists?
Ah, but these thoughts come and go, and I return my attention to the elusive Wall. The Wall I cannot see but whose presence I can feel. I remain still, my focus steady but uneven, like a kite blowing in the shifting winds.
