It's easier to consider yourself non-attached, I've learned, when the object of your non-attachment is not within reach.
Shenxiu, who was the senior monk and teacher under the fifth zen ancestor, Hongren, probably didn't consider himself attached to the idea of eventually ascending to the position of sixth ancestor and leader of Chinese zen — at least not while Hongren remained in authority.
But how did he feel when the day came to choose a successor, and Hongren, as tradition tells it, picked the monastery's cook, Hui-neng, over Shenxiu? That would have been the moment when Shenxiu would have known for sure whether he had attachment or not — the acid test of his non-attachment.
I spent a couple of hours visiting with someone I used to be very close to, and with whom I had not spoken face-to-face in more than a year. At one time, I was very attached — up all night, pacing the floor, talking to myself attached. She may have been a little attached, too, back then, but never as much as I was.
She became a major exercise in non-attachment — not just non-attachment to her specifically, but non-attachment to all the wondering and speculating and second-guessing and blaming her and blaming myself and all the other samsaric bullshit that goes on with this kind of thing.
She dropped out of sight for awhile, and during that time, I felt that I had gotten that attachment out of my system.
Not entirely.
I wonder if she noticed how much my hands were shaking today. I finally had to put them flat on the table to keep them under control. Eventually that stopped. But during much of our conversation, I was just nodding mechanically while thinking, 'Non-attachment... non-attachment... non-attachment...'
In other news, there were four previously-unseen kittens, just a month or six weeks old, sitting on my glider when I got home. Three were calico and one was black. The calicos all scattered when I came up on the porch, but the black one followed me inside.
6 comments:
perhaps, the black one became attached!
He/she went back outside after awhile.
I have more than enough cats of my own without having more just appear out of nowhere.
Just BTW, MCARP, you do know, don't you, that we ALL do that stuff when we see a former?
I still gots big stuff about a woman from several years ago now. I can still hardly stand to listen to a particular CD because it has a tune I associate with (scary horror show movie music) HER.
Not all of us pretty it up with a bunch of "non-attachment" muck, but we still have the very same stuff.
The odd part about all that to me is the congnitive dissonance. I still have all this emotional stuff, but when I go back and read my journal entries from the time and think back about how things really were, both good and bad, the two "realities" are very dissimilar. That divide between what we think, what we know, and how we feel is an endless source of amazement to me. It is a central part of the human condition, imho.
blogblah
I know this happens to everyone.
Even today, 24 hours later, I'm still a little off-balance because of yesterday's meeting.
If I look back at the totality of my adult life and measure all the misery, depression, anxiety, self-doubt, and anger that has resulted from relationships, near-relationships, attempted relationships and so on, and weigh that against whatever positives I've gotten from them, there's no comparison. It's not even close.
I realize other people's experiences may be different, but that's mine.
I wish I was attached to someone. I don't care how painful it may become because the wonder and excitement of being in love is something I miss with every part of my soul.
I long for the day when I can again be that attached.
Be happy that you can still feel that way about someone. You're lucky.
Mindovermary
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