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Noticing, Doing, Releasing: The Simile of the Raft - Diana Clark

The following talk was given by Diana Clark at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on April 02, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Noticing, Doing, Releasing: The Simile of the Raft

Good evening and welcome everybody. It's nice to see you all. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Diana Clark. I'm usually here on Mondays, except when I'm off teaching retreats.

I want to start by talking about a simile—an analogy that gets used a lot in the Buddhist tradition to describe practice and the path to liberation. I want to tease it apart, look at it, and see if there are things we can learn and apply to our own lives today. We can try to understand and appreciate some of the finer elements that perhaps aren't so obvious when we talk about this simile or our practice.

Crossing the Floods

I will start with this idea of "crossing the floods." This is an expression that shows up a number of times in the early Buddhist literature. Maybe it's not surprising; in ancient India, in the Ganges plains, there is a monsoon season and things flood. You have to wait until the end of the monsoon season to cross the flood. Nowadays, we cross creeks and rivers on freeways and don't even know it. But back then, it was a big deal. You would be separated from whomever or whatever for months at a time simply because you couldn't cross over the water. Not only did it separate you, but if you got caught in the flood, you would get carried away to presumably someplace you didn't want to go. The flood is overwhelming; it takes you over and you don't have a choice. It can be incredibly dangerous.

Ajahn Sucitto¹, a well-respected teacher in this tradition, writes about this idea of crossing the floods. He writes that people often come to practice because they have a feeling of being overwhelmed. Things are a little bit out of control, it is just too much, and life is not going in the direction they want. Maybe there is this feeling of being in the floods, and they wish to be on one of the banks, no longer subject to this big body of water that is flushing through. This idea about crossing the flood is about getting to where one wants to be, but recognizing that it is not going to be so straightforward to get there.

The Simile of the Raft

I would like to introduce the simile that I want to spend some time unpacking today: the Simile of the Raft. It is very common and shows up a number of times in the Sutta² teachings. Sometimes people today use it as a shortcut, much like saying "the tortoise and the hare"—you know the whole story just from the title.

Here is the simile given by the Buddha:

"Imagine a person in the course of a journey arrives at a great expanse of water whose near shore is dangerous and whose far shore offers safety, but there is no ferryboat or bridge to take them across the water. So the person thinks, 'What if I collect grass, twigs, branches, and leaves, and bind them together to create a raft? Supported by the raft and by paddling with my hands and feet, I should then be able to reach the far shore.'

The person does this and succeeds in getting across to the far shore. On arriving at the far shore, it might occur to them, 'This raft has been very helpful. What if I were to hoist it on my head or load it on my shoulders and proceed on my journey?'"

The Buddha asks, "Now what do you think? By carrying it with them, would that person be doing what should be done with a raft?"

The people listening say, "No, venerable sir."

The Buddha asks, "So what should the person do with the raft?"

He continues, "Having arrived at the far shore, the person might think, 'Yes, this raft has been very useful, but now I should just haul it onto dry land or release it and set it adrift in the water, and then go wherever I want.' In this way, the person would be doing what should be done with that raft."

The Dangerous Near Shore

There are a lot of little stories in here that we can tease apart. It starts with: "Imagine a person in the course of a journey arrives at a great expanse of water whose near shore is dangerous."

First, just notice that the near shore is dangerous. This word "dangerous" stands in for the fact that it is not a refuge. It is not a place that can provide lasting happiness, safety, or ease. Instead, it is going to be difficult.

Some of you might have even noticed this during the thirty-minute sit. There is often this sense of, "Okay, I'm going to sit, I'm going to meditate," and then what happens? The mind starts to wander. Maybe it is thinking about things you need to plan, or a memory arises, or a fantasy about something that doesn't exist yet, or you are rehearsing a conversation. Then you think, "Oh right, I'm supposed to be meditating."

For many people, the practice is having mindfulness of the sensations of breathing. But it doesn't take long for us to be reminded that we don't control the mind. Of course we don't; if we did, we wouldn't need a meditation practice. We can't only think happy thoughts, nor can we be focused or relaxed exactly when we want to be.

That is part of the near shore being dangerous—the mind can get us into all kinds of trouble. To be sure, it can also supply all kinds of beautiful, meaningful experiences and support us on our path. But we don't control it in the way we think we might. With practice, there is neuroplasticity; the mind becomes more capable of settling down. But it doesn't mean we control our thoughts completely. However, with practice, the thoughts start to be less problematic.

It is not only that the mind wanders. Simple activities we do without a second thought might have a certain amount of dissatisfaction, stress, or dukkha³.

I will shove a simile inside this other simile that the Buddha gives about doing something ordinary for ancient India—using a grass torch for light.

"Suppose a person took a blazing grass torch and went against the wind. What do you think? If that person does not quickly let go of that blazing grass torch, wouldn't it burn their hand or their arm or some other part of the body, so that they might incur death or deadly suffering?"

It is just an ordinary thing: if you hold something that is on fire and it is windy, chances are you are going to get burned. The Buddha says, "So too, a practitioner considers sensual pleasures have been compared to a grass torch; they provide great disappointment and great trouble, while the danger in them is great."

He is saying that some things we do might hook us. We might always be looking for these pleasures—this addiction to comfort or this idea that everything has to be pleasurable all the time. It is not helpful.

An example of this might be how you feel after watching too many videos on the internet. There is often an "icky" feeling afterwards; you feel drained. I know for myself, I feel like, "Oh my gosh, that was awful." I have a headache, or I feel bad because my life doesn't look like their life. There is a way in which these things we think are pleasurable actually turn out not to be pleasurable in the big picture. The Buddha is pointing to noticing some of the difficulties that are here on this shore.

No Ferryboat or Bridge

The simile continues: "...but there is no ferryboat or bridge to take them across the water."

Just recognize that we want an easy way. We want to not even get out of our cars; we just want to drive over, not get wet, and not even notice. But that is not possible here. Of course, we want riverboats and ferries and bridges. These things imply that somebody else has done the work to create them, and maybe we are secretly wishing that someone else will do the hard labor and we can just benefit from it.

In some way, the Buddha did do some hard labor and we are benefiting from it. But he says very clearly that he shows the way, but we have to do the walking. We actually have to find our way. We can see where we have to go on the other shore, and we have to figure out how we are going to get there.

Building the Raft: Noticing and Doing

In the simile, the person says, "What if I collected grass, twigs, branches, and leaves and bound them together as a raft?"

I love this: grass, twigs, branches, and leaves. That is just what is right there. The person is standing on the banks and that is what is available. He doesn't have to search for something specific; he doesn't have to contact a potter. It is just nature, right here.

That is true for us also. We don't have to wait for just the right moment or the right conditions. We can work on finding our way to greater freedom, ease, peace, and liberation by working with exactly what is happening right now. Whether you feel uncomfortable, your mind is racing, or you have a lot of ease—whatever is happening, we can work with that.

One way is to not get tangled up in the materials. "These leaves should be bigger," or "The grass should be longer." Recognize how we are always trying to make things different. We have so much resistance to what is actually here. Instead, put down the resistance and work with what is here. Paying attention to what is actually here is how the raft gets built.

The simile continues: "Supported by the raft and by paddling with my hands and feet, I should then be able to reach the far shore."

I like this idea of paddling with hands and feet. Still having to make an effort. Even though he made a raft, it doesn't mean it is smooth sailing. It is about creating the conditions in which we can do something we couldn't do before. Now we can do some paddling.

So much of our practice is increasing our capacities: our capacity to be with discomfort, to be present for ourselves, and to honor and respect ourselves and others. When these things start to happen, life unfolds in a different way. It unfolds with greater ease. We stop trying to manufacture outcomes or blaming and criticizing. Instead, we say, "Okay, I have grass, leaves, twigs, and branches. This is what I am going to work with to create a raft."

The Far Shore

We also have to notice that the other bank is safety. This requires that we have a sense that less difficulty, less suffering, and less dissatisfaction is possible. We must have that sense that it is possible, otherwise, why would we bother?

Chances are all of us know this because we touch into it sometimes. Maybe as part of meditation practice, or maybe just times in our life when we have a certain ease—hiking with the redwood trees, sitting at the beach, waking up refreshed from a nap, or having loved ones nearby. There might be this time that we recognize, "Oh yeah, it is possible to have some more ease and spaciousness."

Part of the problem is that humans have a negativity bias. We tend to dismiss pleasant experiences—and I am defining "pleasant" as ease or radical contentment, not necessarily non-stop chocolate ice cream. We dismiss these moments because we are looking for the "big bang" roller coaster experiences, thinking that is happiness. Those are great too, but the truth is most of our lives we have moments where it is just okay. Maybe we finish the dishes and the kitchen is clean and it feels good.

This recognition that it is possible for you, for me, for all of us, allows us to find our way. The far shore can be thought of as Nibbana⁴, but it can also simply be a refuge—a place where we can rest and relax.

Releasing the Raft

When the person gets to the far shore, the Buddha asks whether he should carry the raft or leave it behind. The answer is to either bring it onto dry land (maybe to use later) or release it and set it adrift. The key is: "Just let it go and then go wherever I want."

This points to the freedom available if we are able to let go of things that at one time were helpful. It doesn't mean they will always be helpful. We must recognize what is helpful and when is the time to use these things.

This week I am teaching on the inner critic. The inner critic might have been helpful at one time, perhaps internalizing something we heard when we were young to protect us. But we often drag it with us into our adult life. In this way, some of the messages we heard or things we learned that were once helpful—like a raft—are no longer serving us. We can think of it as time to put that down, just as we would put the raft down.

Summary: Noticing, Doing, Releasing

We might summarize this practice not necessarily linearly, but as Noticing, Doing, and Releasing.

Noticing: Just being present for our life. So often we are disconnected and distracted. Just notice what is happening. Notice what is helpful and what is not helpful. Notice what brings more ease. Notice if there is a way we are showing up in the world that is causing harm to ourselves or others.

Doing: Sometimes in Buddhist teachings we talk about "don't do," and sometimes "do." This is the cultivating part. We have a meditation practice to cultivate wholesome, helpful mental states so they can support us and help us abandon things that are not helpful—like the inner critic.

Releasing: The practice is not about getting, attaining, and having more and more. It turns out the way forward is releasing and opening. But to let go, there often has to be some cultivation. It is much easier to let go or soften if there is a certain amount of well-being. If you lose your sunglasses on a day when you are already in a bad mood, it is very different than losing them after a nice nap before a hike. The "doing" part—nourishing our inner life—makes it easier to release.

So, Noticing, Doing, and Releasing are three different aspects of practice that are all intertwined.

Q&A

Participant: Something that came up for me as you were talking about the raft was that I had a relationship to it with trust or confidence. That it keeps you buoyed above, not sinking into the water. That there is some element of support associated with that.

Diana: Fantastic. Gil Fronsdal and I teach a "RAFT" practice, and the "T" stands for Trust. It is the same idea—this confidence that it can keep you afloat. Building the raft and cultivating things gives us confidence, like, "Okay, I can handle this." Or maybe the confidence that we can recover if we don't handle it perfectly.

Participant: This raft building... I was thinking about it in terms of my own life. One of the issues is that the near shore is dangerous, but I have no idea what the other shore is. In the simile, it said it was safe, but I never know. I keep on building rafts, but I don't know whether the other shore is safe. Is that an issue that the Buddha addressed?

Diana: In this simile, he is using it to talk about getting to safety. But your point is a valid one—we don't absolutely know what is on the other side. But sometimes we don't have a choice. Sometimes life brings us to a point where where we were standing just doesn't exist anymore. Things change, the near shore changes, and we have to go forward in some kind of way whether we know it is safe or not. We would all like to have reassurance, but it is not always there.

Participant: I haven't been here in a couple of years. I found I had some empty time for the first time in a couple of months, and it just felt empty. I felt right about coming here, but while I was meditating, I was rerunning scenarios with my family—basically trying to fix it. I started thinking about the raft and paddling. Sometimes paddling for me is just making a phone call to get feedback because I'm not always thinking correctly. But other times, I keep gathering grass and sticks—you can pile a lot of stuff on. You can go to therapy, go on the internet... the idea of releasing today was so helpful for me. Realizing that if you go to therapy, you don't have to go for the rest of your life. Or if you have a relationship, you don't have to behave the same way all the time. Trying to approach my daughter in a different way is a little scary because we are both going to have different reactions, but I'm having trust that it's going to be okay either way.

Diana: Nice. You also don't have reassurance—you don't know exactly what is going to happen. But if you are really releasing, you don't really need the reassurance.

Participant: I really got a lot out of that talk. For me, noticing that I am in a spot that isn't the healthiest is the easy part. The "doing"—what to do—is where I find difficulty. In the simile, you have to get across the water, so you know what to do. But in my situation, a lot of times I don't know what to do.

Diana: I can say something general. You will never regret, and it will always support you, if you follow the Five Precepts⁵—behave in an ethical way. This will always be a support. Sometimes when life is in disarray and we don't know what to do, holding onto the precepts is like a raft carrying us across. Also, the Eightfold Path⁶ can really help. Right Effort is paying attention to what is helpful and what is not. Just intentionally investigating that.