or a morning meditation of twenty minutes, our only defense is to allow the restlessness to arise and to acknowledge it. When allowing any feeling or thought to arise, we are being present with it. This immediately brings us back to the moment. The truth is that we can’t be present and feel restless at the same time. We breathe in and breathe out. Suddenly the restlessness dissolves into peace. The invasion of thoughts is drowned out by the roar of silence as we become lost and then cradled in the moment. The projection of the impossibility of sitting for ten minutes can turn into thirty minutes of just being present.
To become lost in the moment is to be lost in love. The only way this happens is to sit through what our ego will continue to assault us with—intrusive thoughts, determined to trip us on the spiritual path. With steadfastness we stay with the breath and suddenly stumble in the moment; the paradox is then revealed. Becoming lost in the moment is always a gift.
The practice of mindfulness encourages us to think only of this moment. It introduces us to the space called here and the time called now. We meet each moment exactly as it is. In this way we can become intimate with all that arises within. The phenomenon of being present is the result of sitting through the restlessness and purposely paying attention to what life offers in each moment.
As we travel across our beautiful planet, we are guided by signs posted on the roadways that indicate where we are and how to get where we’re going. For more information, we refer to a map. Since roads and pathways have true directions, wouldn’t our spiritual path also have true directions?
The practice of meditation, encouraged in Step Eleven, serves as our signpost and map as we travel the spiritual path. Access to these directions will assure us that we’re in the right place at the right time. Anyone who is a true seeker has a lot of “baggage”—after all, we are on a spiritual journey! The information you find within you when practicing sitting meditation tells you what to carry and what to discard.
Be mindful as you follow your breath. While breathing in, pay attention to breathing in. While breathing out, pay attention to breathing out. Observe your thoughts as they float by. In this simple act of practicing the presence—not attaching to any of our thoughts—we can become receptive to the whisper of the universe. We can always find the inspiration that leads us closer to our soul’s purpose.
In my study of mindful meditation, I haven’t discovered a lot written about the guidance we can find in our practice. My motivation for exploring this phenomenon is my interest in Buddhist recovery. I realize the Buddha’s teachings are primarily concerned with suffering and following the path to end that suffering. Buddha wasn’t a big “God guy”; in fact, contained within the Buddhist mythology is a story where Buddha chastises Brahma, the Hindu deva (god) of creation, for returning beings to the cycle of birth and rebirth. Yet regardless of Buddhism’s views toward any belief in a supreme being, so many people attracted to Buddhist recovery have no problem with the word God. They’re not insinuating that there is a guy with a long white beard directing our lives. “God” is just another way of speaking of the force of love that connects all things.
Throughout the past forty years, I have practiced the art of mindful listening in my meditation. My previous book, The Mindful Addict, is full of stories documenting many adventures ignited by guidance I discovered while listening within. Yes, most of the time it is monkey mind. Monkey mind is a Buddhist term meaning “unsettled; restless; whimsical; inconstant; confused; indecisive; uncontrollable.” The monkey jumps through the trees from one branch to the next; this is a metaphor for our thoughts as our mind jumps from one thought to the next. So when it is not monkey mind, it is important to follow your heart.
I ask any Buddhist who is not fully convinced about guidance or thinks it sounds too much like theism and the supreme-being gig to think about the Buddha as he sat under the tree and experienced his miraculous awakening. When he came up with the Four Noble Truths, where did they come from? Was this inspiration he received? I think so. And I call that divine guidance.
The divine comedy is that everything the ego entices us with is impermanent. The ego plays its part, convincing us and promising us great joy and fulfillment—if only we acquire a big bank account, a perfect marriage, a nice home, new cars, and more things. Impermanence is one of the many spiritual principles I embrace while working the Twelve Steps. As I move through my life I call on this principle many times, especially when my heart is broken by my unrealistic attachments.
In the act of observing what is, we learn the impermanence of thoughts and feelings that arise. By sitting and not attaching, we learn to wave goodbye to them. In experiencing the simple feeling of wanting to scratch the itch at the tip of our nose, but not doing so, we learn that by just noting the feeling, it soon disappears. Small lessons such as these soon advance us to larger challenges that appear in life. We find from experience that when we just be with all that is going on around us, without following our stories to a fantasized outcome, our feelings will change as we move on to the next moment. Life is always in transition. The only constant in life is change.
Embracing impermanence opens a door to our true nature. A feeling of bliss and joy can arise from deep within us for no apparent reason. In this awakening, we realize that true joy has always been who we are, and that all the outer things we cling to, such as people, places, and things, have always been impermanent. Clinging to the material world can only produce a temporary happiness that leads to despair as our outer world changes.
We must also be conscious that even clinging to the idea of enlightenment is another parlor trick of the ego. Enlightenment is also like our lives: an unfurling process of experiences rather than a target we place in the crosshairs of our ever-desirous ego.
When the principle of impermanence becomes embedded deep within, the spiritual seeker notes the tribulations that have been caused by reaching for outer circumstances in seeking greater fulfillment. This clinging ultimately ends with joy, contentment, and security slipping from our grasp. The spiritual path leads us all to times of being stripped of almost everything. To experience impermanence at this level is a sort of baptism, which alone drives one to practice, knowing the path to lasting joy is moving through life with mindfulness.
In Tibetan Buddhism, they have a ritual that honors impermanence. Several monks work on a sand painting that consists of different-colored grains of sand. They create beautiful mandalas, certainly works of art. Some can take weeks to create, with many monks working simultaneously. When the mandala is finished and enjoyed by others, they sweep it clean, destroying it completely. This is done to demonstrate impermanence.
Change makes all things possible. We hear it reinforced throughout the recovery programs that it is not change that causes pain, but rather our resistance to it. Whether we are addicts or not, we soon realize that we seem to be universally addicted to struggle and resistance. That is why surrender is the key that unlocks every path toward change in our lives, regardless of tradition, religion, lineage, or life philosophy. Suffering would never end if things didn’t change. The phrase This too shall pass hangs on the walls of many recovery meeting rooms throughout the world. The law of impermanence persuades and affects all things in life to change.
