Okay,
This morning's trance meditation is on.
.
.
A beginner's mind.
And.
.
.
A beginner's mind is a Zen concept.
And it's the practice of meeting each moment with openness,
Curiosity,
And freedom from assumption.
And uh.
.
.
There's a famous quote by Suzuki Roshi that says,
In the beginner's mind,
There are many possibilities.
In the expert mind,
There are few.
So there's no one right way to meditate.
And so maybe just this morning try what feels right just in this moment.
You can be sitting,
You can be lying down,
Standing.
And it's always good to start.
By settling in,
Grounding yourself,
Which is.
Really a literal practice of connecting yourself experientially with the earth,
With the ground.
You can see what it feels like to have your feet solidly on the floor or maybe your legs and your butt on a chair.
Maybe your back is lying down or something like that.
Just feeling the gravity of yourself.
Resting.
Against whatever's supporting you.
You might try a breath in more deeply,
Slowly,
Breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth a few times.
Just to invite that whatever excess tension you might have from a busy Saturday morning to just kind of relax for the next few minutes.
Allowing yourself to set it all aside.
Giving yourself a little mini staycation.
Letting your breath find its own rhythm.
Nothing to control.
Just if it's interesting noticing your chest rising and falling.
Perhaps your belly is softening a little bit.
Noticing the top of the breath where there's a pause and the bottom of the breath where there's a pause.
So the Zen term Shoshin,
Beginner's mind,
Points to a quality of awareness.
Which are really intimate with what is right in front of us,
As if meeting it for the first time.
It's not about pretending.
To know nothing.
But just loosening the tension.
That naming-labeling function,
That sense of,
Oh,
I know what this is.
Looking at it like a child when they pick up a leaf and they turn it over and over again.
If you're like me,
You might spend a lot of your time in the opposite mode,
The expert's mind,
Assuming that we know what our body feels like,
Assuming that I know what other people see when they look at me.
Assuming I know who I am.
This is an invitation for the next several minutes,
Just to set that knowing down aside,
Just set it aside.
Not throwing it away,
But leaving it be for a little bit.
Let's see what comes up.
You might start with.
Just drawing your attention to the crown of your head.
Not really picturing it or labeling it,
Just.
.
.
Being there for whatever sensations are there.
There might be some tingling,
Some warmth.
Nothing in particular.
You might let your attention drift down to your face.
Your forehead,
Your eyes,
Little muscles around your mouth.
Your face that has been many faces.
The face that you had when you were five years old,
The face that you had last year.
Maybe the face that you saw in a mirror.
And suddenly it felt right,
Or suddenly it felt wrong,
And that started something.
Just being with the face as it is right now.
And continuing down to the throat and the shoulders and the chest.
Or being in transition,
Whether it's just the beginning or somewhere along the path.
And body.
Hearts might have been.
Subject to a lot of attention,
Intense attention.
Measured,
Compared,
Hoped for,
Grieved over,
Celebrated,
Scrutinized,
Sometimes all at once.
Beginner's mind offers just a moment of freedom from all of that.
It offers the possibility.
Of having a chest that's rising and falling without any running commentary,
Without a timeline,
Without the before and after.
And if the commentary keeps coming,
That's fine too.
It's just commentary.
If you want,
You can keep moving down the belly,
The hips,
The legs,
The feet.
Parts of you might've had a story,
Multiple stories.
And as experts on ourselves,
We've had to deal with those stories.
We've had to explain ourselves,
Defend ourselves,
Translate ourselves.
Anticipate how we'll be read by strangers,
And doctors,
And family,
And friends.
We've had to try to figure out who we are.
And all that expertise has kept us safe.
But it's also possible to take a break from it,
Just to rest.
What you are right in this moment.
Not the story of it.
But the experience of it.
Whatever that's like.
Just for now,
You don't have to be further along or further back.
You don't have to have any answers.
You can just meet yourself as if for the first time.
Here is a person breathing.
What might they be?
You might notice if there's any softening or opening,
Any relief.
And if there isn't,
That's also fine.
Beginner's mind doesn't require any particular feeling or thought.
It's just a state of curiosity.
To the expert mind.
That you might be so familiar with.
Beginner's Mind.
And it's a couple of words.
And also.
You might say to yourself,
This is who I am.
And also,
I'm still becoming.
This is what I've lost,
And also,
I don't yet know what will grow in the opening.
This is what my body is.
And also,
I haven't finished meeting it yet.
Transition for May.
It's not particularly a Buddhist concept.
But it resonates with it in a sense of.
.
.
It's the truth of being authentically alive in this moment.
Discovering that.
Having the curiosity and willingness.
To step into that uncertainty.
As we come to the close of the meditation,
I'd like to read a poem by Adam Zagajewski called,
Try to Praise the Mutilated World.
Goes.
Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June's long days and wild strawberries,
Drops of rosé wine,
The nettles that methodically overgrow the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships.
One of them had a long trip ahead of it,
While salty oblivion awaited the others.
You've seen the refugees going nowhere.
You've heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where the music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn and leaves eddied over the earth's scars.
Praise the mutilated world.
And the gray feather of thrush lost,
And the gentle light that strays and vanishes and returns.
And as we close the meditation,
You might take a few deeper breaths and Just before you open your eyes,
You might see if a sliver of this meditation stays with you.
Not a feeling that you have to maintain,
But just a question.
What would it be like to meet the next moment without already knowing what it is?
The next person,
The next mirror,
The next thought.
The next feeling.
When you're ready.
You can stretch your limbs.
Open your eyes.
And I thank you for your practice this morning.
