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

Reference Points for Practice; Reference Points for Practice - Q&A - Gil Fronsdal

The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on April 28, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Reference Points for Practice

What I would like to talk about today is an expansion of what I discussed on Wednesday morning. The simple introduction is that as we practice, we develop a growing set of reference points that guide us. We are no longer guided solely by instructions from other people or from texts, but rather from ourselves. We have developed these reference points of something really good, healthy, and wholesome that is available to us. We know for ourselves how to go forward, how to find our way, and what is useful and healthy to do.

It is phenomenal to have that shift from taking Buddhism as an external reference point for your life to having internalized something that you know for yourself. That is the basic premise for today's talk.

In the course of this, maybe it will also give you a sense of why, in mindfulness meditation, we put tremendous importance on mindfulness of the present moment. Sometimes the present moment gets over-idealized in our scene, like it’s all good just to be in the present moment. But the purpose of being in the present moment has a particular reason. If you understand that, it is a lot easier to do this practice.

I remember many years ago there was a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon. Calvin and Hobbes were climbing a tree—it looked like a glorious day, like today—and Calvin says something like, "Oh, it's so great just to be in the present moment enjoying life this way." It sounds like perfect mindfulness. Then Hobbes says to Calvin, "Yes, but you're supposed to be at school right now."

That was a little bit my problem taking my kids to school when they were in preschool and kindergarten. I was in the present moment taking them to school, but as we walked out of our front door to get to the car, they were really in the present moment with the flowers outside our house and the little sticks that were there. They were really present, and there was a conflict between two present moments.

I want to use this as an introduction to the idea of references for practice. A really big turning point for me in my involvement with Buddhism was the day I decided to devote my life to Buddhist practice. Back then, that took the form of being a Zen student, and then deciding I wanted to be ordained as a Zen monastic. Being a monastic for me was not about becoming a teacher, but rather dedicating my whole life to Buddhist practice.

The reason I had for this was that I wanted to be able to address the suffering of this world, and I wanted to be able to address it at its root. Back then, when I was younger, I felt the root was the attachment we have to self. I knew of nothing else in my limited experience of life that touched that root other than Buddhist practice.

I had already been wanting to address some of the suffering of the world. Very different from what I am doing now, my undergraduate degree is in Agronomy—agriculture. I was going to be a farmer. In the course of that education, I became familiar with the growing potential catastrophe of soil erosion around the world. It seemed like very few people knew about it back then; nuclear proliferation was the big thing people were focusing on trying to stop. But I was so aware that soil erosion was a huge issue.

At some point, I actually applied to go to graduate school to study soil science so that I could go around the world and address the issues of soil erosion. That was the contrast: deciding to become a Buddhist monastic versus becoming a soil scientist and conservationist.

The rationale I gave myself was that no matter how successful I was at conserving soil—which is a necessary thing to do, and I don't want to diminish the importance of it—it would never really touch the heart, the depth of people's existential suffering. I felt like I would always have a dissatisfaction, feeling like it was not quite enough. I didn't know if I would be effective being a Buddhist monastic and helping the suffering of the world, but at least I felt I would have the satisfaction that I was trying to address it at its roots.

I didn't quite know what the roots were. This was more like an intuition operating based on a number of years of practice. I had some sense it had to do with attachment, and as I said, attachment to self. To say that is maybe recognized as one of the grand ideas of what Buddhism is about.

Now we get to this topic of the references for practice. Maybe they aren't so grand or amazingly idealistic. Maybe they are very ordinary in some ways. If I present the idealistic thing—"This is the end of suffering once and for all, the end of attachment to self"—people who want to be practical might say that has nothing to do with their life. But if I am really ordinary and simple with it, people might say, "Well, Buddhism is much more than that." It is hard to be a Buddhist teacher.

This has been on my mind because in the last few weeks I had an occasion where, on the same day, I had a desire for a particular Buddha statue. I had seen a number of them and I kind of wanted to have one—not for myself, but to give to a place when I came back to the United States. I was in Japan, and oddly enough, in the small towns I was in, the only place liable to have this particular statue was a gravestone store. I had to go to various people and try to explain to them why a Westerner in Japan would want to go to a gravestone store. I had a hard time getting them to understand because my Japanese was pretty poor, but I finally found one.

It was a bit of a project to look for where I could buy this thing. Then, later in the day, there was an occasion to consider a feeling of generosity, of giving something to someone. Those two states of mine contrasted with each other. I saw that in some ways, when my mind had the desire for this Buddha statue, my mind got narrower, smaller, and a little bit more contracted, focusing on getting this thing. But when the generosity was there, my mind became more open, more relaxed, and more at ease.

That difference is a reference point. Which of those mind states is more useful? Which of the mind states would I like to live in? Which of the mind states do I want to allow for? What I do with my mind and my heart is a really important thing. Which of those do I want to predominate and become the characteristic of my mind?

I know there are times in my life where the predominant characteristic of my mind has been attachment, clinging, caught up in greed or desires. There are times the predominant characteristic has been resentment, anger, or hostility. Sometimes it has been fear or anxiety for things that probably I didn't need to be afraid of. The contraction of the mind, the narrowing, the tightening, the stress on the mind that certain states have—there was a time in my life where I didn't know I was having this. It was just so ordinary to have a stressful, contracted, caught-up mind churning away with its concerns. I didn't even think about it; I just thought this was human life.

As I started to practice more and more, an alternative became clearer. The alternative was a mind which had no contraction, a heart that was not caught up in something, and had a level of peace, calm, openness, joy, or delight. They don't all happen at once, but at different times you feel different ones. They set up a contrast between something that in Buddhism is considered unhelpful—unwholesome—versus something which is helpful and wholesome. That becomes a personal reference point.

Sometimes it feels somatic, so it is really personal, direct, and immediate. Sometimes it feels more mental or part of our emotional life. We really feel there is an alternative.

Even coming down here today, I walked down thinking about this talk. As I started thinking about it, I could see that my mind was doing that stressful thing. It was starting to get narrow and focused, concerned about "What are people going to think?" and "How am I going to say it right so that no one attacks me?" It was just a little bit happening.

But I knew better. I know an alternative. The alternative is close at hand. For me, there is a reference point that is kind of ever-present guiding me. So as my thinking mind was going down that track, I knew immediately: This is not interesting. I don't want to live my life that way. This is not the world I want to live in, caught up in thoughts, concerns, and fears.

In this context, it was relatively easy just to let it go. It wasn't that I stopped thinking about the talk, but rather the quality of my thinking changed. Now it was like having a friend in my mind. It was a friendly mind—a light, kind way of thinking about what was going on. It was just nice to have that friend there, whereas before that mind was me. I guess both are me, but I wouldn't have characterized the first one as my friend—sometimes the taskmaster.

We have these reference points. In the examples I've described today, they were more mental, though also somatic because the ways in which the mind contracts and gets tight, I feel as tension around my forehead and eyes, in the front of the brain. I think of it as the "thinking muscle" that I can relax.

Other times it is clearly embodied. Sometimes the reference point has been my belly. Sometimes I have a soft belly, and then, oh, it's all tight in a knot. Before I started practicing, it was always tight in a knot. It took years for that knotted stomach to relax. Luckily, I was not in a hurry, because if I had been and thought I was a terrible person for having a tense stomach, it would have made it more tense. It took years of practice to slowly relax that belly, and that made a world of difference. Now I have this reference point. Oh, there it is. Maybe I should take a look. My belly tensed up—what just happened? As opposed to: The belly tensed up, this means there is something dangerous and I need to fight or flight.

I've learned not to let these changes in the body, mind, and heart drive the ship. I've learned to recognize them and say, "Is this what I want to do? What is really going on here? Let's take a deeper look." Usually, the tense stomach is not useful. Sometimes I have what could be considered a tense stomach when I'm having fun and playing, and that seems okay; then I'll put up with it. But there are times when it is really an indication that something is off.

I have had that reference point with my hands. My hands will tighten up in certain circumstances, or I start playing too much with my fingers because I'm afraid. That is a reference point. The shoulders are a reference point.

I've had a reference point in my chest where I feel like my heart is closed. There was a time in my life, I think I was about fifteen, where someone teased me or belittled me about something I had just said. Immediately, there was a decision—it wasn't even me, it was like something deeper, somatic—I could feel something close in my heart and I said, "I'm never going to show that to anyone again." It took years for that to open up, relax, and be willing to share a more vulnerable place of who I was.

We have these things that we do that don't serve us very well. As we practice, they begin to relax, open, soften, and quiet down. The important thing as this happens is to take that seriously—not as something to get attached to, but rather something that can help you read yourself. Become a "self-whisperer." I love this phrase. It used to be horse whisperers, but now it is everything. This is the first time I've ever heard someone say self-whisperer, but I think it is profound. To have that kind of sensitivity to yourself, that you really know yourself deeply and well.

A lot of people don't actually know themselves. They might know very well what they are thinking about, what they believe, and what they will fight for, but they haven't really tuned into the deeper operating systems, the deeper movements going on. Often people are living a one-dimensional life in a sense. As we practice, more dimensions of who we are reveal themselves. What reveals itself is that we have this place where the mind, heart, and body can be relaxed and at ease, versus getting stressed.

One of the main translators of the Buddhist teachings to English is a monk in San Diego named Thanissaro Bhikkhu¹, who comes here sometimes to teach. The common English translation of the Buddhist word dukkha² is "suffering." Suffering is such a big thing. But this monk, Thanissaro, translates dukkha as "stress." Immediately, I think it gives a clear, almost somatic reference point. He has actually said that getting married is one of the most stressful things people do. Now, you wouldn't say getting married is the biggest suffering people have—especially at the wedding—but appreciate that it is stressful. That word "stress" makes these teachings much more applicable. If we always emphasize suffering, suffering, suffering, and the end of it—maybe "stress and the end of it" makes the absence of stress a powerful reference point.

This is not idealistic ideology. It is not necessarily Buddhist in the sense that we have to believe Buddhist teachings. This becomes a time when we learn to believe ourselves. We believe and see for ourselves what works and doesn't work. Even if the Buddha came here today and walked in and said, "Hey, you should stop listening to this guy. Everything I said was wrong. You just go find something else to do," you would say, "Well, that's maybe nice for you, but I know for myself. I have discovered I have this personal reference point. I know the difference between getting stressed and not stressed."

If you wanted to use the big words—getting involved in suffering versus not getting entangled with it, getting attached versus not being attached—that is so clear and obvious that it is going to guide my life. I know one is better than the other. One is healthier. One provides much more wisdom, kindness, and support. One represents the world I want to live in; the other represents the world I don't want to live in.

Just imagine—at least those of you who are not saints—a time when you were at your worst. Caught up in anger, resentments, attachments, greed, or whatever might have been your thing. Just imagine multiplying that by the billions of people we have on this planet. That is the illness spread across the land. Everyone has it. That is not the world we want to live in. Is there an alternative? Can we live in a world of peace? Can we live in a world where everyone comes from that possibility where the mind is free of its clinging, attachment, and resentments?

I think that as we live our social life, having these two references is invaluable. As we get more sensitive—and that is part of the purpose of mindfulness, to be in the present moment and then be sensitive to the distinction between stress and not stress, being open or closed in unhealthy ways—at some point, we can feel that towards people. Some people, for whatever reason, we feel some fear, judgment, or negative orientation towards. But as we see the mind go that way, we feel the impact it has on us and we say, "This is not good for me. I am diminishing myself to get involved in that kind of ideation and judgment."

Because we have this reference point in the alternative, we are much less likely to get caught in our bias, prejudice, judgments, and hostilities.

I had an occasion recently where someone said something critical of me. I could feel the mind begin to move in the direction of being defensive or critical back—How could you say that? But it was so brief because of this reference point that I live with all the time in these circumstances. Immediately, I just dropped it and turned to the person and said, "Can you tell me anymore? What do you mean?" And then I just said, "Okay." That was enough in that circumstance.

How different would it have been if I responded through the old way of defensiveness and criticism? How could you? Let me tell you when you did it!

It wasn't a moralistic thing. It wasn't like, "The ethical thing is to be kind, the ethical thing is to avoid being judgmental." It goes deeper. It goes down to the roots. Is it stressful for me or not stressful? Is there a better way to engage the world and people? This is what I mean by the roots—where we can feel and sense and know for ourselves.

So it can be very ordinary. In ordinary circumstances, this reference point doesn't seem grand, religious, or ultimately spiritual. But to live this way and fill your life with this way is, from a Buddhist point of view, a spiritual life. It changes the world we live in, changes ourselves, and has a huge impact on ourselves over time. Eventually, maybe it does lead to Enlightenment. Wouldn't that be nice? The small little steps that lead all the way.

Those are my thoughts today. We have fifteen minutes before the potluck. What I would like to suggest is that we go into groups of three or four and have a little conversation about what was useful about my talk, or what touched you in some way.

Reference Points for Practice - Q&A

Question: You were talking about the mind, and you said, "I have two voices in my mind. One of them gets so caught up with these thoughts that bring a lot of pain and suffering. The other mind is telling me peace and joy and a lot of good things." You said, "They both are me, but I prefer the other one." When you said that, it kind of hit me because I read a lot of books and teachings that try to teach us I am not my body, I am not my mind. When you said that, I was like, "Oh no, so they both are actually me? So I am actually my mind?" I find there is a conflict there. Can you please explain that a little bit?

Gil: The first thing I'll say is not directly to your question. It isn't so much that there are two sides of my mind, but rather there is a surface mind and a deeper mind. That is more how I feel it. The surface mind is very much fueled by attachments—attachment to self, attachment to outcomes, all kinds of things.

The analogy I have for this kind of mind is squeezing a toothpaste tube. If you take the lid off the tube and then squeeze it, it will just keep coming out and out for a long time. You can brush it away as much as you want, but it will keep coming out. The surface mind is a little bit like that. If we are always tense and squeezing it with whatever attachments and stress we have, that surface mind is going to keep doing all kinds of nonsense. It doesn't want to stop. But if we stop squeezing it, that allows the deeper mind to show itself. That is the one that tends to be wiser, friendlier, more peaceful, and I think of it as being much more holistic. As long as the surface mind is being squeezed by attachments, clinging, resistance, and "all of me," it doesn't have access to the full wholeness of who we are. This deeper mind is more full.

Now I will try to answer your question more directly. Yes, there is a very strong teaching in Buddhism about "the body is not self, the mind is not self, all things are not self."³ But it is best to take those teachings in context as opposed to taking them as meaning you can never say anything about "me."

In ordinary language, it is fine to say, "These are my shoes." It is okay. You don't have to be attached to your shoes. If someone is taking your shoes, you say, "Well, those are my shoes." If they say, "Well, I prefer them to mine," then you might say, "Okay, please take them."

Many years ago, I had a friend who is a monk. He had one of the first devices that looked like a precursor to smartphones. It was a really intelligent phone. I looked at him and said, "You have vows of poverty, you're a renunciant. Why do you have this?" And he said, "Well, it was a gift, and I felt it was okay to receive the gift. If someone ever asked me for it, I would give it to them." I was tempted!

To say "These are my shoes" or "This is my hair" is done innocently. When my wife cuts my hair, I say, "Will you cut my hair today?" I don't say, "Will you cut someone's hair today?" or "Will you cut this hair here?" Life gets so complicated if you try to avoid the word "my." It can be done innocently, and it actually points to something essential.

What Buddhism is about is not having any fixed idea of self. There is no fixed self, no fixed identity. That is where the problem is: the fixed idea. But it is actually healthier to have an ordinary, simple idea. So when I said there are two sides of me, or these two ways of thinking, I wasn't essentializing them. I wasn't making the fixed idea This is who I am. There are probably other sources of thinking in me as well. And because it is in the mind that is in this body and mind, then this body and mind is the place for taking responsibility for it, especially when it is causing harm.

Sometimes it is really helpful to avoid the pronouns mine, me, I. It really helps; it frees something up. And sometimes it is actually more responsible to say it. If you are going to apologize to someone, you don't say, "Well, sorry," or "There is apology here." They would like to hear you say, "I am sorry." Then it carries more weight. So we have to be fluid in how we use this.

Question: What I'm understanding is, it is kind of like saying, "Okay, these two thoughts, they are both in me, they exist in my mind, but they are not my mind or me."

Gil: Yes, these exist, and something else that exists in here is now going to use it as a reference. As practice goes deeper, there are times when there is no feeling even that there is a self, a central locus of self. That is part of it. It feels much more intuitive or relaxed. It is a whole different way of operating in the world that is radically different than how most people operate when they have coagulated around some notion of self.

There is a locus that the sum total of our attachments and clinging can give us—a very powerful, sometimes meaningful sense of some kind of center that "This is who I am." But if we bring our attention to that center, we feel it is a little bit of tension, a little bit of pressure. What is fascinating to do, when you are quiet and still enough in the mind, is to bring mindfulness to that locus of tension that we associate with "This is who I am," and see it dissolve like the dew on a hot day.

Question: Hello, this is only my second time here. I have an array of questions, but I don't know the specific thing I'm trying to ask. Something I've been struggling with is that I feel like I've been having an existential crisis for a really long time. Something you said today really resonated with me—when you said it's really hard to be a Buddhist teacher, and when you were talking about deciding whether to be a soil scientist or dedicate your life to this. You said there is suffering everywhere. Now that I'm older, in my thirties, I finally realize that I want to heal the suffering somehow, but I don't know how exactly. It feels like I'm alone in that. Like everyone around me doesn't care the way that I care.

So long story short: I'm wondering how you decided to do something "the road less paved," and also how did you maintain your cool and say "tell me more" when I feel like within me there is just so much fire sometimes? I just want to make a difference, but it feels like it is impossible in this society right now.

Gil: Thank you for your question. I love your concern. I am delighted that you are struggling with this. This is a really good thing to struggle with. I wish more people struggled this way. I know it is hard for you, but to my heart, this is really good that you are questioning and looking at this. So thank you for that. Please find your way with it.

When I said it's hard to be a Buddhist teacher—it's hard to be a human being! It is just hard in finding our way. That you care enough for the suffering of the world to want to find some way to respond is fantastic. The response has to be right for who you are. Different people respond in different ways. Some people have certain gifts. Someone who plays music might find it is through music that they do this. I know someone who was a hospital chaplain who went to visit children who were suffering in the hospital. He was a musician, and he would go along with his guitar and sing to the kids. He was using his music to really help kids who were in terrible states of distress.

Everyone has to find their own way. You have to know yourself well enough to know what your way is. Or you have to experiment—go around and look at different options. You said you don't have anybody around you who shares what you're about; I would encourage you to try to find someone. And if you would like to talk to me at some point about exploring this territory more personally, I could be available for that.