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What If Practice Were an Adventure? - Diana Clark

The following talk was given by Diana Clark at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on November 19, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

What If Practice Were an Adventure?

Good evening. Welcome.

There is a story that sometimes gets told in the Pali Canon¹—I kind of like this story. Briefly, it goes like this: An individual is wandering in the forest and they stumble upon a path. They can tell that maybe the jungle plants aren't quite the same in this little area. In my mind, they are hacking away and discover, "Oh yeah, this is actually a paved road," or was a paved road. They follow it, hacking their way through, and get to what was an ancient city. With a little bit of work, they start to see the wall of a part of the city, and maybe some ponds or lakes. They don't clear the entire city, but enough to get a sense of what was there.

"Wow, what a discovery!"

They go back and tell the King, "Hey, I discovered this old ancient city with this old ancient road," and suggest that he should excavate the road and the city. The King does, starts to inhabit the city, and lives happily ever after. It's one of those kinds of stories.

In the Pali Canon, the Buddha is telling a version of this story—of course, I'm doing a summary and adding a little of my interpretation. The Buddha says that actually, this is a story where he is the one who made this discovery. He is pointing out that this path he found is the Eightfold Path², and this beautiful ancient town is Freedom—freedom from grief, hatred, and delusion; freedom from suffering. And the King that he goes to tell, who clears the path and inhabits it, is us. We are the royalty. I kind of like this; it's not like we are those poor people who have to have everything figured out for us. No, he's saying, "Hey, go there, and you can do some of this work, and you can live in this city too."

So there is this sense of a path that goes to a destination—you could say a journey. We often use this expression: "the spiritual journey."

We could also tell this other typical story associated with Buddhist studies that probably many of you are familiar with: the story of the Buddha himself, his spiritual journey. There are many different versions of this story, but the gist of the version I'll tell right now is this: Having grown up a life with incredible privilege—everything he wanted, everything that was needed, and a lot of extra stuff—he had a way to indulge whatever sensual pleasure he desired. He was sheltered. His father had concern about what would happen to him when he was older, so he made sure that he had this really sheltered, pleasure-filled life.

Then, as a young man, he leaves this beautiful palace and encounters old age, sickness, and death in different individuals. Some versions of the story say he encountered a monastic as well. Deeply affected by this, Gotama—he's not the Buddha yet, we'll call him Gotama—wants to find a way. There's got to be a way where there isn't this terrible suffering. I don't think he had the idea that he could end old age, or that he could end sickness, or that he could completely end death. But he sought to end the suffering part of it. This is part of the practice: to be able to recognize the inevitability of the pain, or the extreme discomforts, and distinguish that from the suffering—which is all the story-making and all the things the mind is doing associated with it ("It shouldn't be like this," "Why is this happening to me?").

So Gotama, realizing the futility of these worldly pleasures, goes off and seeks the end of suffering. He practices with a number of teachers. Some teachers, he realizes, "Yep, that's not it." He goes in a different direction, "Yeah, that's not it either." Then, near death, having almost starved himself, he gains some sustenance and has some insight. It's not about avoiding all worldly pleasures, but it's about using pleasure in a way that's supportive.

He sits underneath the Bodhi tree—that's his dedication. He's going to find the end of suffering. He probably did find suffering while sitting, of course he did, but he also encountered the end of suffering.

Afterwards, he speaks about the "Middle Way." He had one extreme of indulgence, and another extreme of asceticism with one of the teachers he followed. He comes back and shows the Middle Way. The journey is in the middle, not one extreme or the other.

So this whole idea of a spiritual journey—of this movement towards something, this development towards something, starting in one place and getting to another place—is a common theme in this tradition. But something happened this weekend that made me think about this a little bit differently.

I like this idea of a journey. I could talk about my own journey, and I'm sure all of you could talk about journeys that you've been on, spiritual or otherwise, literal or metaphorical. But somebody said, "I'm looking forward to this adventure," kind of talking about practice. And I thought, Oh, Adventure. I want to go on an adventure! That sounds like fun. It sounds like something that's exciting and thrilling and would be enjoyable.

Whereas sometimes this idea of "journey," for me, feels like, "Okay, okay, I guess it'll be a lot of drudgery and trudging through the tough stuff." We have this idea of a Hero's Journey—I don't even know exactly what all the steps are, but I know there are lots of difficulties as part of them. So I kind of associate that with "journey."

I started to think, well, what would it be like if we considered this practice—if we just changed the language a little bit—and started to talk about it as an adventure instead of a spiritual journey? The language that we use definitely has an impact. I notice that the way I speak or think about things affects how I experience things. All of us know that language has an impact—we have whole advertising and marketing agencies built on this, and politicians use it too.

So what if it's an adventure instead of a journey?

Adventure implies some novelty, something new, maybe discovering something. Like that first story I told—maybe it was an adventure for this person out in the woods or jungle. "Wow, this is such an adventure to discover something!" Like a Raiders of the Lost Ark type of thing.

We might say that the purpose or intention of journeys versus adventures is a little bit different, and we might look at this as a way to support our practice.

A journey usually has a defined destination or purpose. "I'm going to develop my spiritual life. I'm going to discover more freedom, peace, ease, Nibbana³, Enlightenment, Awakening, happiness"—whatever it is for you. Not only is there a destination (like we can journey to San Jose), but there is also a sense of progression: Step one, step two, step three. We go from one place to the next. It's only after the completion of step one that we go onto step two. It's only after getting onto the freeway that we then head south, for example.

But an adventure maybe has a sense of spontaneity, or a sense of uncertainty. It's not so clear what exactly step one and step two is. It's not so clear if there is a particular outcome or destination. Maybe there's more of an emphasis on just the enjoyment of the experience. Part of being on an adventure is the experience, not the destination.

It turns out this is so important in this path of practice. Using that type of language helps us to be present for what's happening, to be here now. So the sense of time is different. It's not about a destination that will be reached in the future, but about an experience that's being had right now. There's a sense of enjoyment, a sense of the delight of being alive, the delight of being present for our life—even if our life is difficult. Because it's guaranteed there will be difficulties, there will be pain. This is what it means to be human; it's unavoidable.

So with an adventure, there's more of this spontaneity and emphasis on just being in the present. "Okay, what's happening? Oh, okay, what's happening next?" Instead of, "Okay, I got to do this. Okay, I did that. Check. Gonna do the next. Check." It has a different attitude.

With this sense of adventure is also the sense of exploration, the sense of curiosity. "What's happening now?"

As an example, if we have this sense that there's a destination, then a difficulty that arises—let's say during a meditation period—becomes a problem. We have the sense of, "Okay, I want to be settled. I want to have some calmness. I want to have some ease." And then we sit down to meditate and we find that we're really drowsy and we just find ourselves drifting off. Has that ever happened to anybody? Yeah. This is part of what happens.

If you have this real clear sense of, "I want something in particular to happen," then this falling asleep is a real problem. "I have to fix it. What are the strategies? What did I do last time? Have I learned anything about it? Or, dang it, when is this meditation period going to end so that there can be more energy in the room and I'm not going to fall asleep so much?"

Whereas, if there is this sense of, "Okay, this is an adventure," opposed to this journey that I have to get to the end of, then the sleepiness, the drowsiness, the sloth and torpor—what if that's part of the adventure?

"Wow, look at this. The mind and the body are shutting down."

Just noticing, "Wow, what is that like?" I mean, this is amazing that human bodies do this, right? They go, go, go, and then sometimes they go to sleep. What's the difference between sleep and awakeness? How does the mind do this? Is it all of a sudden a shut-off, or is it a slow slide, or is there a long time where there's this in-between?

If it's an adventure, there could be some curiosity. I can recommend this; I've spent a lot of time doing this. It's fascinating to bring some mindfulness when you're really tired and watch—I'm doing this with my hands because it feels like a slide into sleep. Sometimes even the mindfulness can follow into a little bit of the sleep. It's really amazing.

So it's the same experience—sitting down to meditate and encountering a lot of sleepiness—but instead of this journey where "I got to get it done," it's like, "Oh, okay, this is part of the adventure. I'm just going to be with what's happening. And this is what's happening. Wow, what is it like?"

This shift in relationship turns out to be what practice is all about.

Journeys, as I said, have this defined purpose and destination, whereas adventures have more spontaneity and maybe some unpredictability. Journeys are like step one, step two. If you want to leave here and get to the freeway, you would probably find your way to... I forgot the name of this street that I drive down so many times... Hopkins! That's it. Just go down Hopkins and get on El Camino. There's this idea of step-by-step, and there can be a sense of, "Have I finished step one? Is it time to do step two? I can't wait until step one is finished."

Whereas with an adventure, it's just, "Oh, I wonder what's going to happen next." There is this curiosity, this openness. And this openness supports the sense of being present. It supports this shift in relationship to our experience, which is where the freedom is, which is where the peace and well-being lie.

All of us have tried to have our life turn out perfect—you know, have all the ducks lined up. And even if we do get them lined up, they tend to just swim away and do whatever ducks do, right? They don't stay that way. So this idea of an adventure is just having this curiosity: "What's going to happen next? I'm not sure." It allows this natural unfolding of things.

Often we want to try to control things. We have this notion that, "Okay, if the ducks were in a row, then finally I'll be happy, and it'll be this lasting, reliable happiness. If I could just get this one more duck—I got all these other ones..." And I know my life feels like that too in some kind of way. Just accumulating ducks, but it seemed like there was always needed more. Always needed at least one more, and then, "Oh no, two more," and on it goes.

In some ways we do prefer the sense of a journey because it seems like it would be predictable and reliable and lead us to where we want to go. But we can also remember this idea of adventure from when we were children. For me, that's what comes up. I think Disneyland has something called "California Adventure," right? This is something you want to go on. I said to myself, "California Journey... that sounds like a history class." It doesn't have the same sense of wondering what is going to happen.

We like having this sense of control, but the truth of the matter is we don't control nearly as much as we think we do. All of us know this. The ducks are just a good example—they are swimming away or doing whatever they want to do. In Buddhist language, we would say that things are arising because of causes and conditions.

We're tired during meditation? There's a myriad of reasons it could be. Maybe we just don't have enough sleep. Maybe we ate a lot. Maybe we feel really warm. Maybe the mind touched into something it's not quite ready to be with yet, so it's a way to distract. Maybe we took some medication that has sleepiness as a side effect. Maybe we're getting sick—I know I start to feel tired as a sign that I'm headed towards some illness. There are so many causes and conditions that we don't even know, and we don't control.

So, things arise due to causes and conditions. We aren't making things happen in the way that we think we are. In some ways, the truth of the matter is: it is an adventure. We're trying to turn it into a journey, but it is an adventure in the sense that we aren't going to go from step one to step two to step three and arrive exactly where we want to go.

Even if you are going to drive to San Jose and maybe this is a commute that you do regularly, it's not always the same. The traffic isn't the same. What you're listening to on the radio isn't the same. The thoughts that you're having aren't the same. The mood that you're having isn't the same. It's never exactly the same. You might have a brilliant idea one day, and another day maybe you're just stewing in something—"I can't believe they said that!"—and getting stuck in that.

The truth is, it's always an adventure in some kind of way, if we allow it to be. And then our life has some vitality, some juice to it.

Some of you might know the Seven Factors of Awakening—these seven qualities that support greater peace, ease, and freedom. Dhammavicaya⁴ is one of the factors of awakening. This often gets translated as "investigation," but we could also translate it as "exploration," or maybe "curiosity"—just being open to what's happening. So what I'm pointing to here is a support for awakening. I'm not just pulling this out of thin air, but it's recognized that this is what's required to find more ease and peace. It's also what makes our life more interesting.

Obstacles can be the adventure. Being in the present moment can be an adventure. Even the idea of, "Wow, I wish things were different than how they are"—maybe that's an adventure. Opening up to what's going to happen next. Because things don't stay the same. You don't need me to tell you this. It's really amazing if we are present for it and all the different ways in which they change.

I'd like to end with a poem. This won't be surprising; I'm on a kick with this poet. This is John O'Donohue, an Irish poet and philosopher. It's a different style than some of the poems I've read in the past. This poem starts off going one direction and then it makes a turn. There are a number of different things that we could pull out of this poem, but this idea of having an adventure is one that I hope will come out of this.

This is called "For a New Beginning."

For a New Beginning by John O'Donohue

In out-of-the-way places of the heart, Where your thoughts never think to wander, This beginning has been quietly forming, Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

For a long time it has watched your desire, Feeling the emptiness growing inside you, Noticing how you willed yourself on, Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.

It watched you play with the seduction of safety And the grey promises that sameness whispered, Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent, Wondered would you always live like this.

Then the delight, when your courage kindled, And out you stepped onto new ground, Your eyes young again with energy and dream, A path of plenitude opening before you.

Though your destination is not yet clear You can trust the promise of this opening; Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning That is at one with your life's desire.

Awaken your spirit to adventure; Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk; Soon you will be home in a new rhythm, For your soul senses the world that awaits you.

I like that this poem begins: "In out-of-the-way places of the heart / Where your thoughts never think to wander."

It's pointing to this: the poem is called "A New Beginning," but there's some way in which adventure is a new beginning. It's a beginning again.

Thoughts are kind of the way in which we're trying to solve something, trying to fix something—which is important, we need to do that. But there's a part of our life that isn't about solving, isn't about fixing, isn't about planning. It's about opening to. It's about unfurling. Allowing ourselves to unfurl, in whatever way that means for you. This opening, this allowing, this unfolding.

I would say that this idea of adventure feels like an adventure to allow something to unfold or unfurl. To not control it. To trust that it knows how to do this unfolding.

And then there's this line: "Learn to find ease in risk."

Because this is what adventure includes, right? It is risk. But this is what a beginning is—going into some unchartered territory. Going into places maybe we haven't been. Having new thoughts, having new ideas, having new relationships to experiences. Maybe the experiences are exactly the same—we have the same job, same life situation, same whatever is happening—but something is new in the way we're looking at it. That new way in which we are experiencing it, or a new frame of reference in which we're looking at it—that is the adventure.

"Oh, what if I look at it from this perspective?"

I always thought of myself as somebody who could just figure everything out myself—I'm making this up, well, maybe it is true for myself too! I kind of had this idea like, "Okay, I can figure this out, I don't need nobody." In some kinds of ways this shows up. But then to realize, "Oh, actually, there's something in relationship to other people that we learn about ourselves, that we learn about humanity, that can only be done with others."

So then to start to see some of our experiences: "Oh, I wonder what this would be like if I were to work on this with somebody else? Or if I were to share this with somebody else? Or if I were to look at it from how somebody else might look at it?" Just using this as an example: the exact same life situation, but to maybe do something a little bit different or consider it from a different vantage point.

So this "learning to find ease in risk," learning to do something that isn't step one, step two, step three... We need these steps sometimes to solve problems, but life isn't only about this. And I think the life that we are hoping to have—that is full of vitality, that has a richness and a depth to it, which includes ease and peace and freedom—is an adventure.

Maybe it's as simple as using that language. Thinking about, "Okay, let's turn this into an adventure. I'm not exactly sure how this is going to go." And maybe that alone—just different language—is something that can allow something new to arise that can be a support for you and your life.

So, a journey or an adventure? I don't know. Right now, today, I'm feeling this idea of adventure. There might be another time I'm like, "No, it's a journey and we have to have some perseverance!" I've given those kinds of talks too. But right now, I like this idea of an adventure.

With that, I'll close and open it up to see if there are some questions or comments. What's the difference between a journey and an adventure for you? Or maybe there's an adventure you've been on recently that you'd like to share.

Discussion and Q&A

Question: So if Enlightenment is—I mean, the Buddha says freedom from suffering, right? Would that be the end destination of the adventure?

Diana Clark: Yes, no more suffering.

Question: So then... I don't know, I mean no more suffering ever? It can't even bother you? It can't touch you? You're just there? Is that what it is?

Diana Clark: It's not being pushed around by greed, hatred, or delusion. It's meeting whatever is happening. It may be uncomfortable, but it's not suffering. It's like, "Oh, ouch." And responding appropriately. Like meeting each moment fully, completely, without hiding, and with ease. I like this expression I heard somebody use recently: It's not being a "bliss blob," just disconnected from the world. It's meeting the world fully and doing what needs to be done.

Question: Can you say a little more about this falling asleep mindfully? I would love to do this experiment, but it's so counterintuitive because I do the opposite. I let my attention go. How do you do it?

Diana Clark: Well, this was never intentional. For all I know, maybe it was a dream! But this was on a retreat where I had a lot of momentum. I spent quite some time—many, many hours a day for many days—just noticing that sleep is like a type of letting go. And yet there was some awareness of that letting go. Maybe I'm making this up and it wasn't mindfulness into sleep, but I know there are Buddhist traditions that talk about lucid dreaming. I wouldn't say I've had this lucid dreaming, nor have I aspired to or tried it. So you have some awareness and you hang on to the awareness a little longer...

Question: I have to try and see what happens.

Diana Clark: Yes, there you go. You could go on an adventure with it. Let us know.

Participant Comment: I just wanted to quickly share. This is kind of how I've been approaching my life, especially in the last few years. Literally, I've actually been calling it an adventure when people ask me how I approach life. I can't say that it makes it any easier, but definitely I'm very strong into trusting the universe. Almost like predetermination a little bit, like things are meant to be or pre-written. It's like I approach life in more of a co-creation. I don't really have a choice, but I maybe think I have control over how my life is going to go, but actually, it's going to go the way it's going to go—which is not in my control.

So I tell people all the time, especially lately, that I don't really make decisions anymore. I just kind of—not necessarily letting life passively happen to me—but in a way, just allowing what's happening to happen and trusting that the universe has a bigger picture at play that I'm not aware of. I just don't put so much importance on my choices and decisions. Like if I feel confused about a relationship or a job decision, I feel like it's just an adventure.

Diana Clark: And how does that make you feel to use this language of adventure? Does it feel like...

Participant Comment: I mean, it definitely helps me with the stress that I used to have in making decisions. I don't feel as overwhelmed anymore. I actually don't really worry about it. I know people who say, "Oh, I don't know what job to choose, Job A or Job B," and they'll worry about it incessantly for weeks on end or have sleepless nights over it. For me, I've learned that the universe will tell you if you just get quiet and listen. The universe will give you signs—I'm very into synchronicity. I just wait until the last minute and see what the universe is telling me and then go with my gut. And it feels like an adventure.

Diana Clark: Does that bring some excitement or juiciness to your life?

Participant Comment: Yeah, I try to use it that way. For example, right now I'm going through a very unsettling situation in my life where mold was found in my apartment and I've been living in a motel/out of my home since Halloween. So it's a lot of uncertainty. "Oh my gosh, what does my future hold? I don't even know, am I going to live here, am I going to live somewhere else?" And part of that is an adventure. Like, okay, the place where I'm currently living, I'm trying to look at it that way to make it more manageable and fun, to allow myself to cope better.

Diana Clark: One thing I can appreciate is what you're pointing to is allowing what's happening, because it is happening. It's astounding how often we're trying to pretend things aren't happening or trying to push that away. So there's some wisdom in saying, "Oh, okay, this actually is happening. Mold in one's apartment. Okay, this is here. What needs to happen next?"

Participant Comment: Yeah, exactly. Instead of worrying more about the future—sure I'm worried, of course—but also I try to look at it from an adventure standpoint and perspective. Almost like I'm watching a movie like, "Oh, what's going to happen next?" So tonight resonated with it because that's kind of how I think.

Diana Clark: Great, thank you. We have time for one more comment if somebody wants to.

Participant Comment: I think it resonated a lot with what you said over there as well. What's interesting is that I used to have this sort of emotion of surrender, which is: you're surrendering to the moment, you're surrendering to what's happening in front of you. And you're living your life—again, not like you're not making decisions, but you're at least letting the universe give you signs about what decisions you should be making. In some ways, you're surrendering to it. But to your point, words can sometimes change your frame of mind. So "adventure" makes it a little more interesting than "surrender." Surrender is great, you're letting go of what you are thinking, what you have to make decisions on, etc. But I think the adventure makes it a little more interesting. So that was fascinating today. And talking about signs, one of my favorite books is The Alchemist, which is all about signs. So if you ever get a chance, you should read that one.

Diana Clark: Okay, there you go. So, may your journey home tonight not be an adventure—just straightforward! Find your way home in a nice way. Good night. Thank you.