The Joy of Losing One’s Self (by Danaeah B.)

I first experienced the release and joy hidden behind the concept of “no self” one Thanksgiving night, not because I was feeling especially thankful but because I tend to feel blue after the guests have gone home.

I discovered eastern spirituality during my teenage years. Then and now it has been my spiritual homeland, but I shied away from Buddhism. Its core doctrine of no self seemed rather harsh to a good little Presbyterian girl. You mean “I” don’t really exist and I don’t have a soul?

Fast forward a few decades. I’d learned a lot of theory and a lot of practices. I was incrementally happier and a nicer person – most of the time – I guess. During one of those “adrift” times, I picked up a copy of Philip Kaplow’s Three Pillars of Zen. Later that year I attended a Zen sesshin (a period of intense meditation), led by (spiritual mutt that I am) a Catholic priest. I began to explore Buddhist thought and practice, not with youthful exuberance, but with awakened curiosity and the intuition that something I had previously missed was there.

A classic tactic of non-dual paths is asking, “Who am I?” – or more precisely, “What am I?” It’s not hard to rule out the stuff on the driver’s license – even a little consideration shows how impermanent all that is. But what of “my” thoughts and feelings, where “I” truly seem to reside? Over time, mindfulness practice reveals how the contents of consciousness come and go. Even my deepest beliefs and loves have shifted over a lifetime. Yet even if I come around to accept the concept that nothing is permanent but consciousness itself – how do I turn that concept into experience?

As one teacher put it, “moments of illumination are accidents, but meditation makes us accident-prone.” A few years ago I had a happy accident.

It was Thanksgiving night. The last of the guests were on their way home. The dishwasher was running. I stood with a cup of tea watching the sun go down. My thoughts returned to our aging dog, asleep under the table, and to an ailing parent. Odds were one or both of them would not be here the following year. Suddenly the weight of a lifetime of losses – all the dear ones of past Thanksgivings who were gone; all the wrong choices I’d made; all the unfulfilled longings – everything that the setting sun can evoke – hit me like a sucker punch. In tears I made my way to the meditation room, thinking to light a candle and try to pray the hurt away.

But something happened as I sit down. In the instant before my butt hit the cushion, a thought filled my awareness – “Who is sad?” I didn’t pose the question, it simply appeared; “Who is sad?” AND NO ONE WAS THERE. In that instant, the sadness was gone! There was no sadness because there wasn’t anyone there to be sad! I sat with wonder in my heart and a smile on my face. I rejoined my husband to watch a football game I couldn’t care less about. Why not? There was nothing I lacked, no place else I wanted to be, and nothing else I wanted to do.

After decades of study and spiritual seeking, I had finally learned one thing from experience; the poor little finite wave is destined to suffer until it becomes aware of its true nature as ocean.

Last December I attended a day long retreat with a Tibetan teacher, Anam Thubten Rinpoche, who spoke directly to what I experienced that night. I invite you to read the transcript of a talk he gave, “Witnessing the Ecstatic Dissolution of the Self.” I’m planning to attend another retreat with him soon, and will post any notes I take when I do.

http://www.dharmata.org/puja50529.htm

Gasho! - Danaeah