This is an AI-generated transcript from auto-generated subtitles for the video Guided Meditation: Things as They Could Be; Poems of the Nuns (4 of 5) Vimala. It likely contains inaccuracies, especially with speaker attribution if there are multiple speakers.

Guided Meditation: Things as They Could Be; Dharmette: Poems of the Nuns (4 of 5) Vimala - Gil Fronsdal

The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on August 15, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Guided Meditation: Things as They Could Be

Hello everyone and welcome.

One of the emphasis in Buddhism, and the kind of Buddhism we practice for Insight Meditation, is being with or seeing things as they are. Being with things as they are means being with things in the present moment as they are and what's directly visible and immediate. But there's a subcategory of "things as they are" which is often overlooked in this practice, partly because if we focus on it too much it causes a lot of problems. But from time to time, it's invaluable to be present for this as well, and this is "things as they could be."

In the present moment, there's potential. To be aware of that potential is encouraging; it can be inspiring if the potential we're focusing on is wholesome and good. The particular "things that could be" that this tradition emphasizes is that you could be free. There could be an experience of thoroughgoing freedom, freedom of the heart, freedom of the mind. And freedom from what? Freedom from all the ways in which the heart and mind are contracted, constricted, all the ways in which it's limited by clinging, grasping, desire, greed, hatred, delusion, and anxiety. Things could be different. The mind could be different, the heart could be different. From time to time, it's good to take that in, that this is here as well, this potential. And it's a potential that's not just a concept, but it's a potential that sometimes, especially when we're practicing meditation, you could almost feel that it's close by. You can almost feel or sense or smell that this is a potential.

The idea is to be wise about that, to not then spend all our time thinking about what could be, but rather to use that as an inspiration to know, "Oh, it could be." So let's practice with how things are, with that in mind. In particular, it's useful to think that how things could be is also a teaching, a teacher for us for how things can be now when we practice. In that freedom—freedom from clinging, freedom from aversion, freedom from wanting and not wanting in some contracted way—is how things could be.

Can we find how to be, how to be present, how to be mindful here with what is, with some of that quality? With some flavor or sense that, yes, to be mindful in a simple, simple way that is free of the contraction or the pressure to want or not want, free of clinging. It means that attention, the way we practice, has a quality of freedom, of ease. Maybe some people call it equanimity at times, or peace or calm. And so the idea is to find how to be aware so it has some of the qualities of what could be, and make it actually what is.

From time to time in Buddhist practice, it's useful to also keep in mind or realize what could be is a radical freedom, a thoroughgoing, radical freedom from all things that keep us contracted. The powerful representative, modeling, or example of this is people who choose to become monastics, where they choose to step away from a lot of the ways that it's easy to be caught up in life and work and family and relationships. Not that we have to do that ourselves, but that freedom does involve a radical letting go, even in the midst of work, in the midst of family, in the midst of relationships. Not to dismiss them, not to avoid them or be aloof from them, but so that we are not suffering in the middle of them.

So when we sit down to meditate, sometimes see it as a very special time to let go fully. It's a vacation from all clinging, all shoulds, all requirements, all for and against. It can be a phenomenal relief. Things as they could be: a total letting go in freedom here and now.

So as we do this sitting today, and your mind wanders off in thought, remind yourself that it could be different. It could be a full entering into a world of freedom from all attachments, all clinging, in this very meditation. And perhaps, how they could be like that, you can get a sense of it. You can feel it in a way that supports you to just really stay here for a few moments, really be present, really let go into this moment. And your mind wanders away again, then remind yourself, things could be different, things could be free, and come back to that. Come back to that. Take the risk, take the challenge of these next 20 minutes to see if you can taste freedom in every moment of being aware, of being alive. So again, as we have this week, go sit quietly.

As we come to the end of this sitting, there is "things as they are" right now, being present for our experience, present for the rhythm of the body breathing. Being present for how we are doesn't need to exclude anything but is free, allows everything, without wanting and not wanting, pushing away or holding on. Giving room to how we are. And in that room, in that space, that we feel the freedom, we sense the lack of attachment just beyond the edges of how we are attached. It teaches us something about how we could be. We could be living close to that freedom all the time, the freedom that's founded in the space of awareness that holds all things.

And then when we meet other people, together with others, we know about others. "Things as they could be" is important. Without some sense of that, maybe there's no compassion. Compassion is knowing that it could be different, this person could not suffer as much as they are. "Things as they could be" then motivates us to live compassionately, caring for others.

Things as they are and things as they could be have a wonderful mutuality. Both are there that can guide us in freedom and compassion and love, in caring for this world. May they work together. May our freedom show us how to care, and may our care show us freedom. May how we live in this world be for the welfare and happiness of everyone, ourselves and others, others and ourselves.

May all beings, self-included, be happy. May all beings, self-included, be safe. May all beings, self-included, be peaceful. May all beings, self-included, be free.

Free in such a way that it's equal, it's the same, whether we care for others or for ourselves. It doesn't have to be any different. It's all care. It's all freedom.

Dharmette: Poems of the Nuns (4 of 5) Vimala

Welcome to this fourth talk where I am reading some of the verses, the poems of the Therīs, the ancient nuns who were disciples of the Buddha or lived in the years after him. This is maybe the earliest poetry of religious women that survives. Before I read some poems today, I want to read just a couple of paragraphs from a tentative introduction I wrote to my translation. It's kind of setting the stage perhaps for what will come.

The Therīgāthā¹, that is the verses of the elder nuns, evokes the struggles in spiritual transformation of ancient Indian women. The stories of their challenges highlight their success in attaining the ultimate goal of the Buddhist path. Accounts of tragic and oppressive lives provide dramatic contrast through their inspired words celebrating their great liberation. The social constraints and oppressions experienced by women in ancient India are the backdrops for the radical inner freedom and peace they achieve. Depictions of wisdom, courage, and determination used to overcome their suffering culminate with confident declarations of their full realization.

One of the ways that they declare their full liberation is "shattering the mass of darkness." To shatter this darkness is to become free of the obscuring influence of ignorance and delusion. As a metaphor, "the mass of darkness" evokes not only a lack of self-understanding, insight, and wisdom, it may well refer to the ignorance and blindness of social beliefs that kept women oppressed. This includes claims that women can't attain awakening because of their "meager two-finger wisdom," as is reported in one of the poems. To "shatter the mass of darkness" includes breaking free of oppressive social beliefs, a freedom perhaps represented most visibly in becoming a Buddhist nun, one of the very few options to live a life independent of the social expectations, obligations, and the many limitations placed on ancient Indian women. For some, it was the only way out of the servitude of marriage of that time.

So now I'd like to read some of these poems. I'd like to begin with one more poem that refers to Paṭācārā.² Yesterday and the last two days, I've referred to poems that either featured Paṭācārā or her monastic students referred back to her as their teacher. I like this one, but it also has a kind of dramatic backdrop. It's from Candā, which her name means "Moon."

I was poor, widowed, without children, without friends or relatives. I obtained neither food nor clothes. Taking a bowl and staff, I went from family to family, begging for alms. Tormented by cold and heat, I wandered for seven years.

But then I saw a nun receiving food and drink. Approaching her, I said, “Let me go forth into homelessness.” With kindness for me, she, Paṭācārā, allowed me to go forth. Then she advised me, urging me toward the ultimate goal. Hearing her words, I did what she advised. The lady’s words were not in vain. I am now free, free of attachments.

So, poor, homeless, no family, no friends, abandoned by society perhaps, but then received into the society of monastics, one of the only institutions that maybe someone like that could go. And in that society, she received teachings and practices and became free.

Here's a little different background for one of the nuns. This is Vimalā, which meant "Pure" or "Unstained." Sometimes the names and their lives, something about the poems either creates a contrast or kind of highlights something important about the nun. So if you remember her name is to be pure or unstained, she writes:

Intoxicated with my skin color, figure, beauty, and fame, relying on my youth, I despised others. I adorned this body, painted it up, babbled foolishly, and stood at the brothel door like a hunter with a snare laid out. I displayed my ornaments, revealed ample hidden parts, performed much magic, and laughed at many people.

But today, having gone for alms, head shaven, wrapped in the outer robe, seated at the base of a tree, I became free of thoughts, free of thinking. All attachments are severed, both divine and human. All clinging cast off, I've become calm, released, quenched.

So, a dramatic difference of how she lived her life earlier. And then for some reason, she went forth as a nun and attained something radically different, something that was perhaps not possible in her earlier life.

The next one is Sīhā, and her name means "Lioness." I love this, her name Lioness, a powerful name.

From unwise attention, I was afflicted by passion for sensual pleasure. I was agitated about the past, had no control of my mind. Pervaded with defilements, chasing ideas of what's beautiful, controlled by a passionate mind, I didn't obtain a peaceful mind. Thin, ashen, and pale, I wandered for seven years. I suffered. Not for a single day or night did I know peace.

Because of this, I took a rope and entered the woods, saying, “It is better to hang myself than to continue this wretched life.” I made a strong noose, tied it to a branch of a tree. As I put it around my neck, then my mind was liberated.

So it's possible she was already a nun, and she wandered around as a nun practicing, and she could never find peace. Something about her mind was so caught. And so finally, in this despair, she decided to commit suicide. And something about that act got her attention in a way nothing else had done, somehow broke the spell of her thinking, her attachment, her preoccupation, the labyrinth of these difficult thoughts. It broke it, and she discovered freedom. So I find it remarkable, these stories of the challenges these women had in their lives and how they discovered an alternative.

The last poem, her name is Mittā Kālī. Some of you might know that Kālī is a powerful word in India.

I went forth in faith from home to homelessness. I wandered here and there, eager for gain and honor. Neglecting the ultimate goal, I pursued a lowly goal. I was controlled by defilements, I did not know the renunciant goal.

Then sitting in my hut, this sense of urgency arose: “I have entered the wrong path under the control of craving. Short is my life. I am crushed by old age and illness. Soon this body will break apart. I have no time to neglect.”

Looking at the arising and passing of my experience as it actually is, I then stood up with my mind free, having accomplished the Buddha's teachings.

So she was a nun, but her mind was still caught up in fame and gain and all kinds of other things that just weren't appropriate. And then as an old person, an old nun, she finally kind of woke up, "This is not right, I can't keep doing this." And she maybe gave herself over to her meditation much more diligently and wholeheartedly and with a sense of urgency. It's now or never. And she got concentrated enough to really see the inconstant, changing, rising and passing nature of all experience, dipped into the deeper under all the concepts, the ideas, the reifications we have. And in the flow of lived life in the present moment, her mind let go. And then, as so many of the nuns say, they had accomplished the Buddha's teachings.

So these ancient teachings of the nuns, they're over and over again telling us with their confidence and their generosity, their maybe compassion for the generations of people later who are going to encounter these poems, they're letting us know it is possible. It is possible to accomplish what the Buddha teaches. It is possible to be free.

May the women of ancient India from 2,500 years ago, may these words still live in us. Thank you.