Seeing with Softer Eyes
The town that I went to school in was not far from the one that I grew up in. But due to poor public transport, this town was sufficiently inaccessible to me that my association with this town was schooling—and all the bad feelings that go with this—rather than socialising, fun, beauty, or just living life in general. You can imagine, then, that I had mixed feelings about moving there as an adult, 15 years since I last spent any decent length of time there, and the time I spent there was associated with oppressive authority, boredom, and trouble. Now much older and accompanied by my brilliant and beautiful partner Katharina, I had some hope it would be different.
When I moved here, I had just returned from my first visit to Plum Village. On the one hand, this was perfect. Many of the bad habits that become so embedded in the spaces we inhabit could remain in a previous live, blown away by the wonderful healing breezes of the French countryside at Plum Village. On the other hand, I had no roots in this new place. I needed to uncover a sense of home. I knew just the practice: walking meditation. (Please see my previous post for a description of this practice).
I wasn’t sure if there were good routes for walking meditation in my area, but my new home was located near a canal and so I decided to go check it out and see. Rapidly, my wrong perceptions about this town began to fall apart. Slowing my walking pace right down, I was amazed to discover a feast of greenery, trees, and a gorgeous canal with ducks and swans playing and fishes swimming. Veering off the canal path, I found myself in a lush meadow, flowers blooming, butterfly’s dancing. Pressing further, I discovered a small forest, complete with a charming—nay, magical—waterfall running through it. I couldn’t believe it, was I in heaven? Yes! A central message of Plum Village was showing true in my new home: this earth is the kingdom of God.
On my way out of this beautiful area, I passed two elderly gentlemen who asked me if the “infamous Leixlip waterfall” was this direction. I was so happy for them, that they would also experience this, so I nodded enthusiastically and explained I had just seen it myself for the first time also. “Enjoy!” I remarked excitedly as I slowly took my leave and left them to it.
As I was in walking meditation, I hadn’t gotten too far when they were returning past me, even if it was about 15 or 20 minutes later. But much to my confusion and disappointment—as they passed me hurriedly and went on their way—they said to me, “Hardly worth the visit”. At first, their perspective seemed so foreign, strange. Had they not just seen what I had seen? Had they not touched the freshness of the flowers? The refreshing splashes of the waterfall? Not worth the visit! Whatever could they mean?
__________________________________________________________________________
In the Vimalakirti Sutra, Shariputra—the Buddha’s closest and wisest disciple—wonders why the natural world is so filled with suffering, ugliness, and unhappiness. ‘Shariputra said, "When I look at this land, I see it full of knolls and hollows, thorny underbrush, sand and gravel, dirt, rocks, many mountains, filth and defilement."[1] But the Buddha compares Shariputra to a blind man that can’t see the sun or the moon, and of possessing a mind filled with ‘highs and lows’ (or, of hierarchies and comparisons). In a beautiful, metaphorical, passage, it is said that the Buddha then
pressed his toe against the earth, and immediately the thousand-millionfold world was adorned with hundreds and thousands of rare jewels […, and all] the members of the great assembly sighed in wonder at what they had never seen before […] that they themselves were seated on jeweled lotuses.[2]
‘If a person’s mind is pure’, the Buddha said to Shariputra, ‘then they will see the wonderful blessings that adorn this land’.[3]
Walking meditation, like many forms of mindfulness meditation, allows us to cultivate such a pure mind, a mind that can then perceive the true Buddha nature—that is, the profound and perfect beauty and simplicity—of all that lies around us.
__________________________________________________________________________
“Hardly worth the visit”. I could see it from their point of view. The waterfall is quite small, and probably hardly counts as a waterfall if one imagines Niagra Falls, or even the gorgeous Irish waterfalls in Powerscourt. The surrounding forest has minimal depth. It is littered with beer cans and other rubbish from bored teenagers. But this is precisely the mind of ‘highs and lows’ with which the Buddha charges Shariputra; the hardened eyes blinded to the Buddha nature in all things. I feel so sorry for these two men. I feel sorry for others, and most of all myself, for all the times we cannot see past our wrong perceptions. For when we lack eyes soft enough, a mind clear enough, a heart full enough, we miss the magnificence and beauty of the world around us.
I visit this waterfall regularly to pay homage to it. To thank it, from the bottom of my heart. Despite its majesty, it is profoundly humble.
[1]The Vimalakirti Sutra: From the Chinese Version by Kumātajīa, trans. Burton Watson, p. 29.
[2]ibid
[3]ibid, p. 30
