The Art of Meditation

In the last month or so, as I have resumed my daily meditation practice, I have also been looking for reading about meditation. One of the books my local library had to offer was “The Art of Meditation” by Matthieu Ricard. The author is a Buddhist monk who left a career in cellular genetics in order to practice Buddhism in the Himalayas.

The book is an enjoyable account of Buddhist mediation. The Buddhists distinguish between mediation with an object (Shamatha) and introspective meditation (Vipassana or Vipashyana). The first aims to still the mind, the second to gain insight into its workings. Stilling the mind is a prerequisite of successful introspection. I believe introspective meditation  is what some yogis call “witnessing” - letting ones toughs and emotions come and go, while the mind acknowledges them as an objective judge. It occurs naturally during object-focused meditation and the two are often practised together as one technique.

Although I have no plans to focus on introspective mediation as a separate technique from my mantra-focused routine, I have found the chapter about introspection thoroughly enjoyable. I particularly liked the river metaphor as an analogy for the ego. It goes like this:  What gives a river its identity? Is it the water that flows through it? No, because the water changes with every hour and week that passes. Is it the river bed or the shape of its banks? Take the water away and the river bed becomes a stretch of land. In the same way, our ego has no tangible identity or definition. It feeds on memories of the past and anticipations of the future. It either dwells on past triumphs and failures or sets itself up as a victim.

“We are not this ego [..] Our most fundamental level of experience is pure awareness”. Abandon grasping onto your ego, cease to identify with it, urges Ricard, and you will find complete inner freedom. Then you will be able to relate to everybody you meet with candour, “goodwill, courage and serenity. Having nothing to gain and nothing to lose, we are free to give and receive everything.”

I guess the river analogy resonates so strongly with me because I have just started to be more aware of the workings of my own ego. When I began practising yoga, back in my early twenties, my ego  appropriated the benefits of my practice – bags of energy, self confidence and feeling happy all the time. I could not be more wrong – as my practice dwindled, the benefits slowly faded away.  I am now approaching yoga again in a very different spirit.  I know very well that I am, at best, just an honoured vessel.

Hermann Hesse's "Siddhartha"

I love allegories and symbols and there are plenty of them to be found in Hesses' books. Of the ones I read by this author, Siddhartha is my favourite.

The beginning of Hesse's story is similar to the legend of Buddha, but without any suggestion that  Siddhartha is of godly descent or even royal. He is a brahman's son, growing up in a comfortable home, taught by learned brahmans. He is a very gifted pupil, but the truth he is seeking is not to be found in the teachings of the brahmans. So Siddhartha decides to leave his father's house and become an itinerant ascetic. He spends the next few years learning concentration and meditation, practising self-denial, learning to conquer pain, hunger, thirst and fatigue - all in an effort to transcend his ego and discover the innermost part of his being, that reflection of the divine, the ultimate reality.

These many years of asceticism have not brought Siddhartha any closer to the the truth he seeks. (This is the point where the story departs from the legend altogether and Hesse's originality begins to shine). As Siddhartha realises asceticism is not the path, he hears rumours about Gautama the Sublime, the Buddha. He leaves the ascetics and goes to meet the Buddha and hear his teachings.

Seeing and listening to the Buddha convinces Siddhartha that “this man was filled with truth down to the least movement of his smallest finger”. Yet Siddhartha resolves that he will not become Buddha's disciple. Having met the wisest teacher, having heard the best possible doctrine, he realises wisdom cannot be taught. The only way to find wisdom is through his own experience, following his own path. A path which he begins to shape as he understands that his past attempts to destroy his self through asceticism and self-mortification were a futile effort, a self-deceit. Instead, from that day on, he would seek to know himself. "No longer shall I mortify and dismember myself in order to find a mystery behind the ruins." Equally, he will stop treating reality as an illusion, "the veil of Maya". The essence is not separate from the world around us, hidden behind things, but manifest in every thing.

His new path takes him further and further away from yoga and any form of self-discipline. He even seems to have forgotten his spiritual journey. As the brahman and the yogi fade away, so does the arrogance that shadowed these identities. As Siddhartha's weaknesses become apparent, so does his humanity - that which he has in common with all other human beings. The wisdom that has eluded the gifted pupil of both the brahmans and the ascetics, finally begins to dawn on him. Very slowly, his years of youth behind him, Siddhartha eventually becomes a sage - someone who has found contentment, who is at peace with the world and with himself.