By Fred
After our last share, I was inspired to reflect on my own experiences with intrusive thoughts. In group sessions I’ve attended in the past, the common guidance for handling these thoughts was to imagine them as clouds floating away into the sky.
However, one woman I met took issue with that. She felt uncomfortable letting a thought drift away because she worried there might be something important there that she might forget. Her solution came from a local sushi restaurant—the kind where little boats travel in a loop from the chef to the customers. Now, she imagines placing her thoughts on those boats. She can let them drift away, confident that they will eventually circle back around, giving her the choice to leave the thought there or pick it up to examine it later.
I’ve practiced many techniques to clear my mind, including aware breathing, but it doesn’t always work for me. It makes me think of a passage from Ursula K. Le Guin’s 1969 novel, The Left Hand of Darkness.
In the story, a stranger visits a monastery called Handara. When he admits his ignorance of their arts, a young man replies, “I’ve lived here three years, but haven’t yet acquired enough ignorance to be worth mentioning”. He tells the visitor, “Behold, we must sully the new snow with footprints in order to get anywhere”. This idea—staying open to “ignorance” and different approaches—has helped me adjust my own attitudes toward tradition and expectation.
When I meditate here, I often aim for what an instructor of mine called “Radical Presence” or an “oceanic” state. I kneel on my cushion, feeling my weight and the pressure under my legs, my body tall and centered. Then, I engage my senses completely:
- I see: I choose one small thing—a stroke of kanji on the wall, the wood frame, or a small branch outside.
- I hear: The ripple of water in the pond, the birds, the breeze, the sounds of people, and even the motorcycles climbing to the skyline.
- I feel: The sensation of still or moving air, the warmth or cold, and the sunlight on my skin.
- I smell: The damp soil outside, the flowers, the incense, and the room itself.
When it works, these sensations fill me so quietly and completely that there is no room left for disturbance. I am at rest, right here in the middle of the world.
Hakone Zendo 