This is an AI-generated transcript from auto-generated subtitles for the video Onward Leading Journey - Gil Fronsdal. It likely contains inaccuracies, especially with speaker attribution if there are multiple speakers.

Onward Leading Journey - Gil Fronsdal

The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on February 04, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Onward Leading Journey

One of the ways that the Dharma practice is described is that it's onward leading and implies movement. There are two kinds of movement that most characteristically represent the Dharma. One is that of a path—usually, in English, we talk about a path that we walk. The other is a current of a river that we float in, that carries us along.

The path metaphor suggests that we have to engage; we have to do something to bring ourselves along. We have to walk the path. The river current metaphor suggests that there's not so much we have to do, except stay in the current and be carried by something. It is a significant point in the practice when it shifts from one to the other. For people who are beginning, it can take a lot of effort, a lot of walking, and a lot of engaging. At some point, the onward leading feels like it's almost innate, and something is carrying us.

There's an onward moving nature to it. What is that onward moving that we feel or sense? I find it inspiring to think that maybe it's somewhat related or similar to the onward moving nature of a little child growing. What is it that propels the growth of a child? I used to try to stop my son from growing. I'd put my hand on his head and say, "Stop." He would laugh because he fit so well in my arms as a little baby. I remember those days, but nope, there was something propelling him to grow.

By the time we had our second child, I wasn't so eager for the milestones to happen—like walking and talking—because they just meant more problems. With the first kid, I didn't know that. I was cheering him on, couldn't wait, even worrying, "Why isn't he there yet?" With the second one, it was, "Take your time." But what is it that propels them to learn, develop, and grow? What is that natural process? And what is the natural process that propels us onward in this Dharma practice? Maybe it's as natural as a child or a tree growing.

Visible Here and Now

There is a very classic description of the Dharma which I still find inspiring and evocative: that the Dharma is something immediately visible, here and now. It's immediate, meaning it's not really part of the past or the future. It's something that we connect to right here.

They use a colloquial expression for this. Literally, in Pali¹, it is a very simple, ordinary term: ehipassiko². It means, "come and see." (It doesn't actually say "hey," but I add that to make it even more colloquial: "Hey, come see.") Some people translate it as "it invites inspection," meaning it invites us to come and look. But really, it's just saying, "Come, come along, come see, and see for yourself."

The description continues, saying it is "onward leading," and "to be experienced personally by the wise." You are the wise one who is supposed to experience it for yourself. That's what the Dharma is: something immediate, visible, experienced for yourself, inviting you to come and take a look.

A Path vs. A Road

One of the most classic metaphors for practicing the Dharma is the notion of a path. I am inspired by this notion, probably because I'm under the influence of European and English culture where a path is idyllic and pastoral. I love hiking in the mountains on little paths in the forest, finding my way. For some of us in the American-speaking world, it's a great individualistic thing to "find your own path."

It turns out that the word in Pali, the ancient Buddhist language, doesn't really mean "path"—it's the word for "road." But a "road" is not so inspiring. We associate roads with asphalt and cars. "The Eightfold Road" doesn't quite evoke something as heartfelt for many of us as "The Eightfold Path."

However, there is a difference between a path and a road. A path is usually narrow, something in the woods or the wilderness. It's easier to feel like you're walking it alone. Even if you go with a group of people, the distance between you stretches out, and maybe you don't see the people in front of you because they're around a curve. A road, on the other hand, is wide. For the Buddha, who spent most of his adult life on the flat plains of Northeastern India, the roads were flat, solid, and wide. A road is something a lot of people can accompany you on. You can walk side-by-side. If you find your road, you can invite all your friends, family, and your whole community to join you.

It is very valuable, this idea of walking the road together and being accompanied. I like to think that we're walking the road with the Buddha, that he accompanies us on the same road he walked.

Holding the Paradoxes

At some point as we go along, we have to appreciate these paradoxes that we hold together in the Dharma. There's the road that you walk, and there's also the river you get into that carries you. At some point, after you walk this road enough, something begins freeing up and developing, and you feel an onward leading momentum in the practice.

I feel this sometimes when I go for long hikes for many days in a row. After a while, there's a feeling like I'm not walking; there's a force, a momentum and energy inside of me. Sometimes I end up walking faster and faster as I get in shape and get stronger. It feels like I'm just cruising along. It's the onward leading movement of walking. I am in the stream of walking, being carried by it.

The road implies a destination, that we're going someplace. At the same time, we understand the destination is right here, now. How do you hold both of those? Some of us have grown up where there is a strong emphasis on how great it is just to be and not to do. Sometimes that's been helpful for me because I've been too actively, anxiously doing, and being told "you can just be" is a relief. But actually, both are needed for Dharma practice. There is what we have to do, and there is what we be. Eventually, they don't have to be two different things. The doing is the being; the being is the doing. Choosing any one of these sides actually limits you. Sooner or later, all these sides come together and work together.

I want to emphasize today the idea of Buddhist practice as a journey. It is onward leading, but a big part of it is the journey itself. The destination is freedom, liberation, and awakening, but the journey itself is what we have to settle into and trust. We just have to be the next step of the journey. We'll be changed by it, and we'll keep growing like a child grows.

I still remember my son taking his first steps. As a proud parent, I watched him take his first seven steps... but then he fell. [Laughter] He fell! I could have gotten angry and given him a talking-to: "This is not how it's done! When you walk, you really walk." But for a little kid like that, the point is the process. Of course they're going to fall. Then they get up and walk some more, until eventually they don't fall so much.

The Journey of Ouch and Ah

We're on this journey, and one of the things that can support this momentum is having a cognitive understanding and an inner feeling for what is onward leading. Where is the inner sensation that says, "this is where we go forward"?

I have a friend who loves to walk off-trail in the mountains. She explained why she likes it so much: all her senses are involved, and every step is consequential. She says, "I'm being shaped by the terrain as I walk." That's very different than walking on a paved road. With every step, something inside of her knows how to shift her weight, turn her foot, and find her way. She feels very alive and connected to the earth. There's an onward leading nature where she knows how to find her way as she discovers it.

Last Sunday, I talked about the Four Noble Truths. At the heart of the Four Noble Truths is our capacity to distinguish between the things we do that bring suffering, and the possibility of being free of that. To make it simpler, since "suffering" is a big word, it's the experiential ability to distinguish between what elicits an "ouch"—"Oh, that doesn't feel good, that's stressful"—and what goes "ah." On a cold, windy day, you tense up, which is a little bit of an "ouch." But then you stand in the sun, something softens and warms up, and that's an "ah."

There are times where the "ah" direction is a completely natural thing to do. I've been tense in my life—maybe my shoulders were up to my ears—and friends have kindly put a hand on my arm and said, "Gil, you seem kind of tense." I didn't know it until they said it, but then I could feel it. There was an onward leading movement. I didn't have to plan how to do it; something inside of me just gave way and relaxed. Something knows how to go forward in time to create health.

The Four Noble Truths are partly teaching us to pay attention to this. And for that, you have to be in the present moment. It's visible, experiential, here and now. Feeling "ouch" and "ah" is not about the past or the future; it's about right now. It invites you to pay closer attention.

The Ten Perfections

Many of the teachings in Buddhism are organized as lists. This can irritate some people, but these lists actually represent the onward leading nature of practice. If you can feel your way into these lists and embody them, they represent your inner growth and capacity to develop.

There is a list for this journey called the paramis³, the Ten Perfections. These are wonderful qualities that can be developed on the path. You don't want to take the linear progression too strictly, but I want to convey these ten as a journey today, with one building and setting the conditions for the next to arise. My hope is to evoke some inner sensibility in you for each quality, to see that this is a place worth making room for in your life.

When I was a relatively new Zen student, I worked at the Tassajara Bakery in San Francisco. One day, I was sitting next to the Zen priest who ran the bakery. He opened a letter from a neighborhood association fundraising for something, and he turned to ask me how much the bakery should donate. I didn't grow up with any real understanding of donating, so I didn't know what to say. He decided, "I think we'll do $50," which in 1979 was quite a bit. I said, "Wow." It touched something in me. It was the birth of some onward leading movement opening in me around generosity. It was a small thing, but it made a big impact.

1. Generosity The first of these ten paramis is generosity. Many times, the Buddha's teachings begin with evoking generosity because it puts you in community. It begins by rectifying or adjusting our relationships to the world around us. When you practice generosity from a place of "ah" rather than "should"—not out of transactional expectation but wonderful openness—it clarifies and heals relationships.

2. Virtuous Conduct It turns out that what is usually called "ethics" in the English-speaking world—there's actually no word in Pali for ethics. Isn't that something? From our English point of view, Buddhism is very ethical, they just don't have a word for "ethical." But they do have a word for virtuous conduct. As we practice generosity, our sensitivity leads us to understand that certain behaviors in relationship to other people are a big "ouch." If you hit people aggressively, it's an ouch. This is called sila⁴ in Pali. In English, it's often translated as ethics, but the word really has to do with conduct. Living ethically means moving toward the "ah" and away from those "ouches."

3. Renunciation The next parami is a frightening word for some people: renunciation. This means letting go. It's learning that I don't have to do the "ouch" thing. I don't have to be caught in greed, hatred, fear, or tension. The English word doesn't provide the richness of the Pali word, which implies what you gain by letting go. We benefit.

4. Wisdom As we let go, the sense of "ah" becomes a stronger reference point. We get more sensitive to the slightest movements of tension. That distinction is wisdom. We become wise not just by reading books, but through this onward leading feeling of recognizing what is beneficial for us and what is not. Over time, that wisdom becomes more subtle and applies to all details of our life, even how we sit in a chair. I once sat on a couch in a way that totally expressed and reinforced my depression. When I changed my posture to sit upright, it didn't make the depression go away, but it was a world of difference. There was a movement toward health.

5. Effort As we become wise in this way, we are more motivated and inspired to act differently. This is the parami of viriya⁵—vitality or effort. We become more interested in living a different way, making intentional behavioral choices because we realize our old habits don't work anymore.

6. Patience As we engage and make more effort, chances are we'll fall, like a child taking their first steps. So we have to be patient. We need a lot of patience to accept the path, stand up again, and try again without getting in the way of our inner growth.

7. Truth As we are patient, we connect to what is really true. Making this distinction between "ouch" and "ah" and living by it is true. Not living close to it is a way of not being true to ourselves. Truth becomes really important.

8. Resolve The next of these ten is resolve. Something inside of us decides to become intentional, deciding, "This is what I'm going to put my energy into; this is important."

9. Loving-Kindness Resolve can make you a bit stern, strict, and tight. Luckily, the ninth parami is loving-kindness or goodwill. This softens the resolve and reminds us that our dedication to practice should be relaxed, without tension.

10. Equanimity The final parami is equanimity. It can seem cold or neutral to some people, but here it's building on all this other growth. It's the realization: "Now I understand the ouches and the ahs of life. I can see that it's much better not to be reactive. I can be at peace, I can be still, I can be in this world completely without being tripped up by it."

Trusting the Stream

When you're really practicing with a lot of equanimity, it puts you in the stream. Remember the stream that's part of the onward moving? You just have to trust the stream, and the current of the river will take you to the ocean.

The Dharma is in you in this way. You have to walk it; it's a road that you walk with many people, and it's a current in a river that you can trust. It's visible here and now, but you have to pay attention. It's immediate. It invites inspection: "come look." It's onward leading, to be experienced by the wise.

I hope you could follow this journey. Maybe it's not the exact journey you have to take, but I hope it inspires you to pay attention to your own way. Your path is a road with a lot of people walking next to you, everyone making their own path on the wide road. Thank you for sharing it with us all today.