[ Chapter 07]
RENUNCIATION
In order
to embrace the spiritual path fully, be able to grow on it and walk along
it with a feeling of security, one has to renounce. Renunciation doesn't
necessarily mean cutting off one's hair or wearing robes. Renunciation
means letting go of all ideas and hopes that the mind would like to grasp
and retain, be interested in and wants to investigate. The mind wants to
have more of whatever is available. If it can't get more, then it makes
up fantasies and imaginings and projects them upon the world. That will
never bring true satisfaction, inner peace, which can only be won by renunciation.
"Letting go" is the key word of the Buddhist path, the fading away of desire.
One must realize once and for all that "more" is not "better." It is impossible
to come to an end of "more," there is always something beyond it. But it
is certainly possible to come to the end of "less," which is a much more
sensible approach.
Why sit in seclusion in meditation and
spoil one's chances at all the opportunities the world offers for enjoyment?
One could go on trips, work at a challenging job, meet interesting people,
write letters or read books, have a pleasant time somewhere else and really
feel at ease -- one could even find a different spiritual path. When the
meditation does not succeed, the thought may arise: "What am I really doing,
why am I doing it, what for, what's the good of it?" Then the idea comes:
"I can't really do this very well, maybe I should try something else."
The world glitters and promises so much,
but never, never keeps its promises. Everyone has tried a number of its
temptations and not one of them has really been fulfilling. The real fulfilment,
the completeness of peace, lacking nothing, the totality of being at ease
and not wanting anything, cannot be fulfilled in the world. There's nothing
that can fill one's wants utterly and completely. Money, material possessions,
another person, some of these can do so. And yet there's that niggling
doubt: "Maybe I'll find something else, more comfortable, easier, not so
demanding and above all something new." Always that which is new promises
fulfilment.
The mind has to be understood for what
it is, just another sense, that has as its base the brain, just as seeing
has as its base the eye. As the mind-moments arise and contact is made
with them, we start believing what we are thinking and even owning it:
"It's mine." Because of that, we're really interested in our thoughts and
want to look after them. It's a foregone conclusion that people look after
their own belongings much better than they look after other people's things,
so that one follows one's own mind-moments and believes them all. Yet they
will never bring happiness. What they bring is hope and worry and doubt.
Sometimes they supply entertainment and at other times depression. When
doubts arise and one follows through on them, goes along with them, they
can lead us to the point at which there is no practice left at all. Yet
the only way to prove that the spiritual life brings fulfilment is to practice.
The proof of the pudding lies in the eating. Nobody else can prove it to
us; wanting outside proof, so that all one has to do is grab a hold of
it and nourish oneself is a wrong approach.
The fulfilment we are looking for is not
what we can get and stuff into this mind and body. The gaping hole is much
too large to fill. The only way we can find fulfilment is to let go of
expectations and wanting, of everything that goes on in the mind, so that
there is nothing lacking. Then there's nothing left to fill.
The misunderstanding, which recurs over
and over again is this typical attitude of: "I want to be given. I want
to get knowledge, understanding, loving-kindness, consideration. I want
to receive a spiritual awakening." There is nothing that one can be given,
except instructions and methods. One needs to do the daily work of practice,
so that purification will result. The lack of fulfilment cannot be remedied
by wanting to be given something new. We're not even clear about where
this is to come from. Maybe from the Buddha, or from the Dhamma, or we
might want it from our teacher. Possibly we would like to get it from our
meditation, or from a book. The answer is not in getting something from
outside of ourselves, but rather lies in discarding everything.
What do we need to get rid of first? Preferably
the convolutions of the mind that constantly tell us stories which are
fantastic and unbelievable. Yet when we hear them, we ourselves believe
them. One way to look at them and disbelieve them, is to write them down.
They sound absurd when they're written down on paper. The mind can always
think up new stories, there's no end to them. Renunciation is the key.
Giving up, letting go.
Giving up also means giving in to that
underlying, subconscious knowing that the worldly way doesn't work, that
there is a different way. We cannot try to remain in the world and add
something to our life, but rather give our ambitions up completely. To
stay the way one is and then add something to that -- how can it possibly
work? If one has a non-functioning machine and adds another part to it,
it's not going to make it function. One has to overhaul the whole machine.
That means accepting our underlying understanding
that the old ways of thinking aren't useful. There's always //dukkha//
again and again. It keeps coming, doesn't it? Sometimes we think: "It must
be due to a particular person, or maybe it's due to the weather." Then
the weather changes or that person leaves, but //dukkha// is still present.
So it wasn't that and we have to try to find something else. Instead we
need to become pliable and soft and attend to that which is truly arising
without all the convolutions, conglomerations, proliferations of the mind.
That which arises may be either pure or impure and we need to know how
to handle each one.
Once we start explaining and rationalizing,
the whole process breaks down again. We mustn't think that we can add anything
to ourselves in order to make us whole. All has to be taken away, the whole
identifiable lot, then we become a whole person. Renunciation is letting
go of ideation, of the mind-stuff that claims to be the person who knows.
Who knows that person who knows? These are only ideas churning around,
arising and ceasing. Renunciation is not an outward manifestation, that's
only its result. The cause is an inward one, which is the one we need to
practice. If we think of a nunnery as a place for meditation, we will find
that meditation cannot happen without renunciation.
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Transcribed for DharmaNet by Maureen Riordan
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Update : 01-01-2002
