the discipline he outwardly bowed to.
Simplicity may be projected into the future where we believe we will reclaim our time and our lives from the obligations or circumstances that now define them—our families, work, and economic demands. Dreams of enlightened retirement appear in those moments when we feel overwhelmed by the complexity of our lives. We may even believe that the path to simplicity lies solely in solving the outer predicaments and challenges. It is easy to forget that the tyranny of complexity in our lives does not lie as much in our life circumstances, timetables, and obligations, but in our relationships to them and the paths of living we choose and embody.
The shape of our world and our experience of it is molded in our hearts and minds. The commuter on the train may be taking that moment to be still, to cultivate calmness and sensitivity. The hermit in the cave may spend countless moments daydreaming of a better life or replaying some old, familiar song of resentment. Outer change carries no guarantee of inner change; in the quest for simplicity we are invited to examine the rhythm and quality of our own life. It is authentic inner transformation, born of investigation and understanding, that translates our dreams of simplicity and freedom into reality.
The world that invites profound transformation is the one we carry within us. The only moment that offers the possibility of transformation and simplicity is this moment. Calm simplicity is not born of rejecting this moment or this world, but of our own willingness to probe the causes of agitation and complexity. We do not need to look further than this moment, this world, to find the simplicity we hunger for. Simplicity and stillness are not born of transcending our life but of a radical change in our hearts and minds. The endless strategies we engage in to ease the tension and unrest in our hearts are like rearranging the furniture in an overcrowded room. Every great meditative path encourages us to turn directly towards all that preoccupies and burdens us. Learning to cultivate inner calmness, to care wholeheartedly for the moment we are in, to learn to release anxiety and agitation; these are lessons we can only learn while living our lives.
The Source of Happiness and Unhappiness
The Buddha said so simply and clearly that the source of happiness and unhappiness lies nowhere else but in our minds and hearts. We can make endless journeys to find happiness, and engage in countless strategies to rid ourselves of unhappiness, but—the key traveler on all the journeys and the central player in all the strategies is ourselves, and it is to ourselves we always return. There is a wonderful Zen saying, “The only Truth you find on top of the mountain is the truth you brought with you.” We discover happiness through making peace with ourselves and the circumstances of our lives, not through trying to escape from them, nor through living in fantasies about the future. Our lives will continue to present us with unexpected challenges and opportunities. Our bodies will age and become fragile, our teenagers will rebel, our colleagues may frustrate us, financial demands will continue to appear. We will meet with allies and adversaries. We will be asked to find room in our hearts for the needs of others, to embrace our own demons, and to respond to the changing circumstances of each moment. We make peace with our lives through learning to connect with the simple truths of each moment. As the graffiti on the bridge tells us, “We are not in a traffic jam. We are the traffic jam.”
We do not have to travel far to discover simplicity. Each encounter, event, and moment is a mirror that reflects our reactions, fears, longings, and stories. When we encounter another person, in that moment we also meet ourselves in our thoughts, feelings, and responses. Exploring and touching our own heart and mind, we become intimate with all hearts and minds. Fear and anger, greed and jealousy, loving kindness and generosity, compassion and forgiveness are not personal possessions, but universal, human feelings. Understanding how our world is created on a moment-to-moment level, we understand all worlds.
The present moment we are in offers everything we need to discover the deepest serenity and most profound simplicity. There is not a better moment, a more perfect moment for us to awaken and uncover the immediacy and well-being we long for. Tolstoy once said, “If you want to be happy; be.” Yearning for simplicity we are guided to turn our attention to those events, circumstances, and inner experiences that appear most entangled. The places where we feel the most lost and confused are the places we are asked to shine the light of clear and kind attention.
The Buddha said, “I teach only one thing—there is suffering and there is an end of suffering.” All Buddhist traditions and practices rest upon this one simple statement. We all live in the same world experiencing sounds, sights, tastes, smells, feelings, and thoughts. We share the same story of birth, aging, sickness, and death. We all have the capacity for delight and distress, great compassion and great struggle. In the universal story none of us will remain untouched by loss, sadness, and pain, and we will all be touched by moments of simple joy and gladness—we will all laugh and we will all weep. It is a story of change and unpredictability, and it will not always be under our control. This is the story of life.
Simplicity will not be found in trying to mold life to comply with our desires and expectations. The events and circumstances of our world feel no obligation to conform to our expectations. Again and again we learn that the gap between what is and what “should be” is an ocean of distress, disappointment, and frustration. These feelings are not intrinsic to living but derive from our unwillingness to turn our hearts and minds to the realities of each moment. To have the wisdom to acknowledge the bare truths of the moment—“this is grief,” “this is fear,” “this is frustration”—enables us to lay down the burden of our stories and “shoulds,” and follow the road to peace. Simplicity is born of a depth of understanding that enables us to harmonize our inner world with the changes and unpredictability of life.
Personal Story, Life Story
Our personal story is rooted within the universal story, but we each bring to it different ways of experiencing and holding it. To each moment we bring our past memories, hopes, fears, and preferences, and the world reflects back to us the state of our minds. A traveler came to the gates of a new city and asked the gatekeeper, “What kind of people live here?” The gatekeeper answered with a question of his own, “What kind of people lived in the city you just came from?” The traveler replied, “They were mostly a cantankerous lot, greedy and self-centered.” The gatekeeper answered, “I expect you will find the people here just the same.” Soon after, another traveler met the gatekeeper and asked the same question. Again the gatekeeper asked, “How did you find the residents of the city you visited last?” The traveler answered enthusiastically, “They were warm and hospitable; truly a fine group of people.” The gatekeeper responded, “I expect you will find these folk just the same.”
Love and loss, frustration and contentment, intimacy and separation, praise and blame, beginnings and endings—this is the story of life. For each person who meets life with joy and ease, there is another who lives with fear and conflict. The story of life offers us possibilities of entanglement and intensity, or simplicity and ease. To discover the peace of simplicity we are asked to see through the layers of misunderstanding and confusion that camouflage the serenity that is possible for us. The Buddha said, “We carry in our eyes the dust of entanglement.” Entanglement comes with our historical resentments, images, and fears that distort our present. Again and again we find ourselves superimposing our experiences and stories from the past upon the present. Losing ourselves in the stories, we deny to ourselves the capacity to see fully the person in front of us, the moment we are experiencing, or ourselves.
Someone offends us. The next day we encounter them again. No sooner do we set eyes upon them than we find ourselves replaying our resentment, the story of yesterday, at the forefront of our mind. Can we see that person without the veils of the story? Can we see them as someone who may not even know that they have hurt us or as someone caught up in the same agitation we ourselves have experienced? Do we find ourselves already avoiding, rejecting, or judging? Can we learn to breathe out, to let go of the story, and find the generosity
