Liberation after the work is over

We spend much of a Buddhist life concerned with the mind—getting familiar with it, understanding it, learning to still it, and learning to see deeply into its true nature. It takes a lot of work (the fourth of the six paramitas is in fact “joyful effort”), but it is far from the whole of the path.

Walking down the bike path on the way to the library where I like to sit and write, a seed sprouted in my mind. The thoughts slowed, and then stopped, and the world became magnificent in its mundanity. The world is not transcendent, but when you can see all of its ordinariness at once, it is awesome. The colors became vivid and the people walking and running past me were fellow beings who I had no ideas about. In that moment, the work was over, but everything is always changing and what comes next is a whole different ballgame.

When the mind becomes still, the whole body quiets, and what is left is a boundless opportunity to choose what to do next. Here’s the multiple choice that my mind came up with…

a) have some thoughts about this so that I can capture and remember it
b) try not to make any sudden movements so that it stays
c) STOP IT, something is wrong and this is abnormal
d) turn toward my heart

Three of these options take this kind of moment as the end game, something to be captured or reacted to, but when the work of the mind ceases, that is not liberation, it is the ground, and we have to access the ground in order to begin the work of liberating the heart. The heart, however, is much less familiar territory for most of us than the mind, and practicing with the heart is a very different endeavor than practicing with the mind.

We have to access the ground in order to begin the work of liberating the heart.

The mind is ruled by karma, which means that it is governed by its habits, some of which are as old as time, inherited over countless incarnations and learned through all of the hardships of living. These grooves are deep and the energy behind them is powerful. That is why diligence, endurance, and correct motivation are critical for the dharma path. But the work also does bear fruit, and in those moments when the habits of mind do change, when there is a break in the deluge of constricted thoughts, then it is important to not think that the path is over.

The heart, unlike the mind, is not ruled by karma. The heart is the resting place of our beginninglessly and endlessly awakened nature. It does not have to learn wisdom because it is in the nature of wisdom. It is in the nature of emptiness and interconnection. Rather than working with the mind, which presents us with endless traps and tricks and illusions, liberating the heart means getting out of its way and allowing it to lead us. “Don’t believe everything you think” doesn’t apply here, the thinking is no longer relevant.

The ground of a quiet mind is not neutral, even though in the moment it can feel blissfully so. Yet we still must make choices, we still encounter other beings, we still are subjects in a world of causes and conditions, and encountering the world reveals all too easily the fragility of a still mind. Our phone rings, our meditation ends, someone on the bike path almost knocks us over on their e-bike, and there it goes, like how dreams disappear as soon as we wake up, perhaps leaving a slight residue of a memory, but usually completely forgotten in an instant. But the heart is different. The heart is the godhead of dharma practice, and when the little voice that is obsessed with the self becomes quiet, we must remember to turn toward it and to listen closely.

What do you have to show me? I asked my heart as the bright green summer leaves rustled in the breeze and the man in the red t-shirt with a sweat stain down the middle of his back ran passed me. My whole body became gentle and my hands fell easily at my sides. Suddenly, loving him was easy. Suddenly, without a thought, I felt the heart of the woman walking towards me with her earbuds in, her face sullen and traced with wrinkles, and I felt the heart of the young man in the helmet on his scooter weaving between us. My heart revealed to me, with no effort at all, their true nature.

And then it was over. I started planning dinner for later that night and worrying about if I wore too many layers for the cool July morning. The mind flooded back in and the work began again, but imperceptibly lighter and ever so slightly more certain of its course.