Dhamma in the City: The Practice Never Stops

Now that I’m back in Thailand and settled into a new job and a new apartment, I often find myself wondering if I’ve strayed from the path towards freedom. Making money and having worldly responsibilities, at first glance, seems counter-productive to what I’m trying to do here. When I was leaving the last meditation retreat I sat, which was in Nepal, I had a strong vision about my aspirations for the the next year or so, and to say the least, it didn’t involve signing a 1-year contract to teach English full-time in Bangkok. Nevertheless, I find myself in precisely such a situation, and needing to make sense of it all.

What is happening, from as best as I can tell, is that fear is starting to arise. This fear is worried about getting wrapped up in making money and having things. But is this rational? Sure, it can be a slippery slope, but since when are you not allowed to make money and have a spiritual life? The problem isn’t in the money, but in the fear itself. The fact that I’m worried is actually a good thing, it means that my aspirations to stay on the path are deeply rooted, and that even shifting conditions won’t make me forget what I really want. But acting out of fear is never a good idea. So I see that fear is arising, and I can just practice observing it, knowing it not to be who or what I really am. In this way, I can keep moving forward in a positive manner, and not let the worries and doubts create turmoil in my mind.

But that’s not the end of the story. What is happening in the here and now is much more important than speculative projections about where I’m going to be a year from now when my contract runs out and whether I’ll be more likely to visit the beach than the monastery. Yes, I know that to live a life in the Dhamma, one must make arrangements, one must sacrifice and plan to spend time practicing. Otherwise, one drifts aimlessly and remains hopelessly lost in the world of swirling mental formations, not knowing what is what and always chasing the next form of pleasant experience. But if I go on thinking that spending time in meditation retreats is the extent of my spiritual life, I’m missing the point.

And that’s what my insight has been the last few days. I don’t need to wait for another retreat to practice; I can practice in each and every waking moment. Although that’s easier said than done, the opportunity is there, and if I’m not taking advantage of it, by at least setting an intention to be mindful, I’m most-likely missing out on the beauty of the ever-present moment.

Okay, there’s a lot here already, so I’ll try to be more specific. Although traffic jams and pounding pavement in a big city of 9 million people seems far from the peace and serenity of a monastery in the forest or mountains somewhere, the practice remains the same.

What is it like to be alive in this moment?

Why do I need to be sitting cross-legged with my eyes closed to ask this question? Yes, it’s probably a good idea to do meditation retreats, as they really offer an opportunity to develop concentration that can later be used. They also work on the level of problem solving. Since so many deep-rooted problems arise during intensive practice, we learn how to deal with all sorts of internal obstacles.

In the “real world,” all the problems seem to be external, but I when I can remember, I know better. All the frustration I’m feeling living in the city, the slow moving pedestrians that criss-cross down the sidewalk without looking, the lanes of traffic that are frozen for minutes at a time, the endless heat, seems to be because of external obstacles. But then I look over, and I see the person next to me, facing the same external situation, seemingly unaffected. The difference must lie in the way this external phenomena is being processed and translated.

It is only because of my resistance that I am suffering.

If I am present enough to notice my resistance, it weakens. Sometimes, it even goes away altogether. In those moments, a gentle smile appears on my face and I am reminded that everything is okay. If I’m late to yoga, if I don’t make it to work at all, if I’m constantly bordering on becoming a human waterfall of sweat, who cares? The truth is, it’s only my mind that cares, but in reality, it doesn’t really matter. If I miss yoga, if I miss work, even if I get fired, so what? Is there not another job waiting for me? Is there not another class tomorrow? If I remain positive, knowing that I am not in control, I can rest assured that whatever life has in store for me is going to be what I need when I need it. It might not come packaged the way I want it to, or the way I have envisioned, but that’s okay.

Honestly, I feel like my life right now is the end of a movie. It’s like everything has worked out for me over the past year or so, over the course of some major changes, and now that everything has fallen into place, it’s time to move forward with optimism and hope, with a sense of belonging and direction, and most importantly, with an opportunity to implement all the things that I’ve learned. When one story ends, a new one begins, and the next chapter of my life remains to be seen. Can I surrender to life and let whatever comes come? Can I have a respectable job and wear nice shirts and ties without losing my purpose? Can I find ways to practice what the Buddha taught, about being mindful for each step as I walk through the city, staying with my breath as I ride the bus, and responding with compassion to those around me?

Who knows what will happen! If I knew, life would be boring. If I was in complete control, there wouldn’t be any surprises. Besides, I would have never made it here if I could have sculpted my life from the beginning. I’d probably have my head up my ass in the US with some fancy career or something by now. So I guess I feel good about where I am, and am grateful to have had the opportunities that have come my way. I’m locked in to a full time job, but I doubt I’ll forget what is important to me. If I can remember to ask myself what life is like for me, right now, and keep asking myself as many times as possible, I will find freedom from my fears, I will find truth, and who knows, maybe even a bit of happiness. 

So as I walked through the blazing heat of the city today, I felt for the first time since I've been back that I'm right on track, even if doesn't seem that way at first glance. I have plenty of opportunities to practice the Dhamma, to practice implementing the skills that I've worked so hard to develop. Patience, flexibility, tolerance. If I can't put them into use now, when I need them most, what good have my efforts been? I refuse to believe that my efforts have been in vain, and I take this opportunity to set the intention to stay connected with the direct experience of my life as it unfolds, from moment to moment, from breath to breath, from step to step. 

I walk into the future, but without leaving the now. 

I wish all of you the best of luck on your journey, may you walk with peace, love, and direction.