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Finding The Dharma in the Listening - Gil Fronsdal

The following talk was given by Gil Fronsdal at Insight Meditation Center in Redwood City, CA on February 11, 2024. Please visit the website www.audiodharma.org for more information.

Finding The Dharma in the Listening

Good morning everyone, and welcome to IMC. I'm delighted that you're here and we get to be together. One of the purposes of Dharma talks is to teach about the practice of mindfulness, the practice of the Dharma. We might talk about meditation, we might talk about mindfulness in daily life, we might talk about the practices of ethics—all kinds of things. One of the principles of mindfulness is that everything is practice, so one of the very important practices in Buddhism is the practice of listening to a Dharma talk. That is what we'll talk about today.

One of the interesting things about discussing the practice of listening to a talk is that all of you, for the most part, are going to be listening to this Dharma talk. And so it's about you, and your listening.

I want to read this little story from a book, The Monastery Within:

"A young woman from another country moved with her family to live for one year in a town near the monastery. In the course of the year, she discovered the monastery, and she would periodically visit to have discussions with the abbess. The abbess introduced her to meditation, which became very meaningful for the young woman. When the family's one-year-long stay was drawing to an end, the young woman asked the abbess, 'In my country, there is no Buddhism and no one has even heard about meditation. How can I continue to learn and deepen the practice you have started me on?'

"The abbess said, 'When you return home, ask far and wide for who among the wise people is recognized as having the greatest ability to listen. Ask that person to instruct you in the art of listening. What you learn about listening from such a person will teach you how to further your meditation practice.'"

The art of listening. Those people who were the direct disciples of the Buddha were called, in the ancient language, the listeners: the sāvakas¹. Those who listened. In the ancient world, listening was a primary way of getting information from others. There was practically nothing written back then, and there was no internet to get all kinds of things. It was all through the voice. If people wanted to remember what was being taught—because there were no libraries—they really had to pay close attention so it went in and stayed there. It's a very different way to listen. Taking something in in order to retain it for the future requires a higher attentiveness, a higher receptivity, a higher sense of presence, less distraction, and less scattering of the mind.

It turns out that those qualities are really important for Dharma practice. In fact, when the Buddha gave Dharma talks, he gave particularly profound teachings when he understood that the mind of the audience was ready, receptive, free from hindrances, elated, and bright. The word "bright" is sometimes translated as confident or trusting. There was a recognition that a certain state of mind can receive teachings in a very different way than if you are scattered, spinning, preoccupied with all kinds of things, or if you have an attitude of resistance.

How we show up is an actually very important part of the practice of listening to a Dharma talk. It is so significant that if you're listening to a Dharma talk for the Dharma, you'll find the Dharma in the listening itself. It's not necessarily in the words, it's not out there in the speaker, but you turn the attention backward on itself. What you're looking for is in the attention. What you're looking for is in the looking. What you're hearing for is in the hearing. It's a quality of attention that we're really focusing on here. With a certain quality of attention, we can listen and be receptive in a way that touches something really deep inside.

There are many ways of practicing with a Dharma talk. What strikes me as I give this talk is how much listening to Dharma talks is going on in this world today, in a way that I don't think has ever gone on in the history of humanity. Well, among some people—a majority of people on the planet still don't listen to Dharma talks. But for people in our scene, it's phenomenal how much people listen. When I was growing up in the Dharma, I was lucky if I listened to one Dharma talk a week. Sometimes it might be a month before there was an opportunity to be with a teacher. In the monastery, we didn't have Dharma talks that often; the abbot didn't come through that frequently. The idea of listening to a Dharma talk was kind of unusual.

Not so many decades ago in Thailand, there are stories of people who were really serious about the practice who would walk for weeks to find a teacher. You couldn't get on a plane or a train. They'd walk for weeks searching for a teacher who was going to give them teachings. Imagine the preparation that takes, and imagine showing up to hear those teachings after all that searching, walking through the jungles, contending with tigers and wild elephants, finally finding that person and saying, "Well, I don't really feel like it today." [Laughter] That level of effort brought a certain kind of seriousness and attentiveness.

There is a lot of seriousness about listening to Dharma talks, but they're so readily available through technology now. There are people who listen to Dharma talks every day, or even more. Sometimes it's a tremendous support and help for people—a lot better than the alternative available to them with their own mind's activity. Through this regular access, people have discovered all kinds of ways to listen that didn't exist in the old world. I know people who listen together with friends. Before wireless headphones, they would share wired headphones, going for walks and just listening together. People go for runs, or listen to Dharma talks commuting to work.

Because of podcasts, there's something about the spoken word taking precedence again; people aren't reading as much as they used to. It used to be that Dharma books were the thing to do. When I was growing up in Buddhism, it was mostly in the books. I had a whole art to how to read Dharma books in the monastery. But now we're returning to the oral tradition, which is historically what always happened.

There is a different richness in the spoken word. It conveys much more than just the content of the words. You get the tone, the speed, the cadence. Sometimes, if you're lucky, something of the teacher's practice comes through in how they speak. One of the things to do is to listen to more than just the words. Listen to what else is being conveyed.

Some people talk about a transmission occurring in a Dharma talk. I've listened to talks from teachers who just transmitted kindness, and it was so wonderful to feel it. I didn't completely understand their talks, but the kindness and compassion really touched me. Sometimes it was clarity; some teachers were so clear in how they spoke that it somehow made my own mind clear. Other times, a teacher's confidence in the Dharma is what's contagious. What really changes the listener is realizing, "Wow, this person has a lot of confidence and inspiration." So there are all kinds of things we can take in besides the words.

Over time, listening to Dharma talks changes what people listen for. When people are new, it's pretty common to listen for the content, the words, and the meaning. It is really meaningful and powerful to hear some of these teachings for the first time. The first talk they ever heard just blew them away, or something shifted inside of them. As people continue practicing and listen to a lot of talks, the content is still important at times, but there might be other things going on.

When I was in the monastery, we always sat in meditation during the talks. In Zen, there was a very formal meditation posture to be in, so we would be in that posture listening to the talk with our eyes cast down. There was no nodding in agreement, which meant the teacher didn't get that energetic feedback. I had this wonderful Zen upside-down smile, which I'm very capable of. [Laughter] Sitting there probably looked a little intense, but it came from concentration or the [unintelligible]. I would sit there listening to the abbot very attentively, but what my mind was drawn into was the voice itself. I would get more concentrated listening to the talk than I did in my own meditation.

That's not uncommon. Some people get absorbed into a Dharma talk so that the words become less and less important. Their mind is unwavering, not moving at all, just absorbed in it. I would leave the talk completely still, completely open and relaxed. I'd walk outside and just be in awe of the sparkle of everything and the peace that I felt.

Other times, I would be meditating with the talk and I didn't hear much; it kind of washed right through me. That's a whole other art: to allow the talk to wash through you. Stay present for it, but don't hang onto the words, don't repeat them, don't question them, and don't immediately apply them. If you start thinking, "Oh, this is interesting, and now I'll think about other ways I can apply this. I have this smart device in my kitchen that talks to me, and I can call up all kinds of Dharma..." you've lost touch with the talk because you're already applying it.

Just let it wash over you and through you, with the principle that if there's something important for you to hear, it will stick. It will touch something. You don't have to be straining and trying hard, grabbing tightly looking for something important. You just want to be very receptive and see what finds its way to your heart, or to some depth inside of you. I've had that happen where I was just following along, letting it wash through, and in this receptive state I hear a sentence or a word, and boom, something happens. I've known people for whom a single word made things shift, organized their mind, or made the puzzle of their life come together.

A common thing people say to Dharma teachers is, "I've listened to a lot of your talks, and I think you've said this many times before, but I could never understand it. When you said it today, it just changed me." That's because previously, the mind wasn't prepared or the life conditions hadn't come together so that it could land in some deep way.

One of the things we want to be careful of is not listening in a way that hinders benefiting from the talk. One of the ways that hinders it is doubting it or being suspicious. I've seen people come to IMC looking out from dark glasses, and you can literally feel that they're not buying any of this. Many of us have this tendency to have a bias against what we don't believe, what we don't like, or what isn't our preference.

There's some wisdom to that. You shouldn't blindly agree to a Dharma talk just because it's being taught. However, it's easy not to like something, and it's relatively easy to decide that something is wrong. If that's the case for you, you're not getting any benefit, except maybe more confidence in your opinionated mind and your sense that you're right. I don't want to dismiss discerning what's useful and what's not, but even if someone says something you don't like or think is wrong, it's probably not 100% wrong. The interesting exercise is to say to yourself, "I don't quite agree with that, but let me see: is there some situation in my life where this pointer would be useful?"

For example, an unpopular Dharma theme for talks is renunciation. As soon as the renunciation Dharma talk comes out, some sit back with the sunglasses on and hat pulled down, thinking, "I'm not going to listen to this. These Buddhists, they're just party poopers." [Laughter] But instead, if that person asks themselves, "I mostly disagree with this, and I think renunciation is overdone the way Buddhists talk about it—but let me think, is there any place in this life of mine where it would be useful to learn a little bit more about renunciation?"

Sure enough, there comes a time when renunciation is helpful. Say the thing you've been looking forward to for months is watching the Super Bowl. You hardly listen to the Dharma talk because you're already thinking ahead to this afternoon, what you're going to do, and how great it's going to be with the chips. You come home, it's about time for the Super Bowl, and your neighbor calls and says, "I have appendicitis. Can you take me to the hospital?"

"No!" [Laughter]

Your neighbor says, "But aren't you a Buddhist? Aren't you into renunciation?"

"No, I have my priorities. I want something, and I don't want to have to help you. Tough luck!" [Laughter]

In that circumstance, I hope you'd understand that renouncing the Super Bowl to get your friend to the hospital before the appendicitis causes a massive infection might be a good thing. The principle here is that if you merely disagree, you might not benefit at all. But if you do the exercise of asking, "In what circumstance is this teaching beneficial?" then you find some benefit.

You have to do some work with the Dharma. There is certainly a time to just let the words wash through and not engage with thinking about it, but there is also a time to reflect and consider. Some people do it during the talk, some people do it after. If you never spend time reflecting on it, questioning how it works and trying to extract whatever is beneficial, you won't benefit as much.

Have friends you can talk to. Some people listen to a talk and afterwards discuss it with friends who listened as well. They go back and forth to find out what struck them and what questions they have. It's a way of finding more value. Some people find it very beneficial to listen and to write notes. There are times I do that, especially when I co-teach with someone else and feel like I really need to stay on top of what they're teaching so I can be in harmony with them. I find my mind is brighter, more attentive, and more present. Having the practice of writing keeps me more deeply engaged, and I am actually processing the material better. Some people will journal after the Dharma talk and write down what came up for them.

The principle I'm trying to convey is to be an active listener. In the same way that meditation is an activity you give yourself over to—even though a lot of it is receptive, a "not-doing"—don't be a passive recipient of a Dharma talk. That doesn't mean you're straining or trying hard. It means you're balanced, upright, receptive, ready, and available.

You're really here to be present for it. Maybe express that presence in your posture. Take a posture that shows you are ready. You can feel it in some people, and you can feel when they're not. I know I've sometimes been such a couch-potato slouch that my shoulders were basically at the bottom of the sofa. [Laughter] That's not ready and receptive.

To bring it back to an important point I made at the beginning: in a very important way, what you're listening for is found in the listening itself. The characteristic of listening—what we're trying to have mindfulness do for us—is found in the quality of the mindfulness itself. If we're too focused on what's outside of us, the object of attention, then we're not paying enough attention to how we are. How we listen, how we are aware, how we speak.

The Dharma is found in the how, not in the what. Sit in such a way that your how is ready, receptive, free from hindrances, and free from distractions. This is perhaps the harder one: be elated, inspired, and have a bright mind and a bright attention. Dharma talks can help with that. It is said in the ancient texts that the Buddha would give talks that would inspire, encourage, brighten, and delight the people who listened, and then he would give his deepest teachings. Isn't that nice?

The practice of Dharma talks is a wonderful practice. I'm sure many of you have benefited from it, otherwise you wouldn't keep coming back. Maybe this talk will give you a little bit more inspiration to notice how you show up to listen. I hope that over time you develop a repertoire—a range of ways to be with a Dharma talk—so that depending on the circumstance, you understand the different approaches and can choose what serves you.

Those are my thoughts. Maybe some of you practiced this today as I was giving the talk, or maybe today you just got the ideas for later.

Q&A

Alex: Hi, I'm Alex. I have a little embarrassing question about listening. I've been doing this thing that you have taught: on breathing in you connect, on breathing out you relax. It works for me phenomenally. But then I was telling somebody about it and they asked me, "Connect to what?" And I realized I don't know! My question actually is not what it is connecting to, but should I find out from you what it is connecting to? Because it's working for me already. Should I just leave it as it is?

Gil Fronsdal: You just said that it's working for you already. If something is working, you want to be careful and maybe not mess with it too much. At some point, whatever you're doing when you connect, you'll naturally understand what's happening there. But maybe you're not ready to understand that yet; just go for the benefits for now.

However, it might be interesting to hear from you how you're benefiting. If you come back to me and say, "Yeah, it's really been helpful because it's been giving me really good lottery tickets—I connect to lottery ticket numbers!" [Laughter] I would say, well, that's not what I had in mind. You might have something better than lottery ticket numbers, but hearing from you might be interesting, and then maybe we can adjust something if it's useful. I think I'd prefer to leave it like that. If you had asked the question differently, I would have been happy to explain what I mean by that, but right now I don't want to mess with you.

Betsy: Hi, I'm Betsy. I was just reflecting on whether this is a way of really practicing living and getting an experience of being in the present?

Gil Fronsdal: It's a great question, and a reasonable one, because we focus so much on meditation in our tradition here. But meditation is just the training ground where we're going to the gym so that we learn how to develop mindfulness and attention. We learn to develop a certain degree of focus, of being non-distracted, a certain degree of wisdom, and compassion and care. We learn it here in the gym so that it becomes strong, and then we bring it into our life.

In some ways, that's at least as important as what happens in meditation. The goal for our practice is not to have a sharp line between the mind and heart in meditation and the mind and heart in regular life. Bringing these qualities of mindfulness and attention into our life is definitely what we try to do. What's wonderful is that they are reciprocally beneficial. What we learn in meditation we can apply to life, and as we apply it to life, we learn things about ourselves that then help our meditation deepen. The two go back and forth as partners.

Bruno: Hi, I'm Bruno. Quickly today, you mentioned something about a time when you were reading books about the Dharma, and you said that the Dharma is in the reading. Today you're talking about how the Dharma is in the listening. Is this related to the concept of zazen² and Zen? Can you tell a little bit more about it? I feel like the word Dharma is used in so many different ways, and today is the first time I heard of this.

Gil Fronsdal: Great. The word Dharma is used in many ways. Sometimes it means the teachings of the Buddha, and you can go to a book for that. But if you spend too much time with just the concepts and ideas being given in a book or a talk, it's like spending all your time in the restaurant trying to eat the menu. At some point, you have to order the food and eat the food.

The Dharma is not found in the menu. The meal is not found in the menu. The Dharma is only found in you. Otherwise, it's just concepts and ideas. Sometimes we can feel or sense the Dharma in other people—their maturity, how they've changed, their freedom, their compassion. You get a sense of, "Oh, that person has really matured in the Dharma." That can be inspiring. But don't get too mesmerized by other people. Be inspired by them, but for you, the Dharma will only be found in you.

Jake: Hi, I'm Jake. I was curious about the other side of this—the art of preparing or giving a talk. You've given thousands by now. Do you have any sort of rubric or checklist, or did you in the past think, "I need to try and capture these things in this talk"? Is it more freeform than that? Do you start with a good idea, get stuck on it, and abandon things? I'm just curious.

Gil Fronsdal: Great question. My relationship to giving talks has changed over the years. Because I've given so many, a lot of what I do has become second nature. Sometimes when I'm in teacher training, I'll explain to people what I do in a Dharma talk, and I feel very uncomfortable because it sounds like I'm being self-conscious and fabricating something. But it's all second nature now. There are all these elements going on in the background that I'm paying attention to.

I'm a slow learner, which is maybe why I keep giving a lot of talks. When I was a new teacher for the first ten years, I often wrote out talks. My first two talks were in Zen. In Zen, you're not supposed to have notes, so I wrote everything out and spent hours memorizing it.

Part of it was really great to prepare a Dharma talk by writing notes and making an outline. If I was in the flow, I would meditate first, and the talk felt like a continuation of my meditation practice. I loved the creativity that came out that way. Sometimes I would read a few different books, pick up a paragraph here or there, and in a good day I would savor those teachings. They would contribute not just to the ideas of what I was going to teach, but to the atmosphere and feeling of it.

After about ten years, two things happened. First, I had young kids at home, so I didn't have time to prepare anymore. I thought my talks got worse, but people liked them more! [Laughter] The other thing that happened soon after was that my relationship to preparing changed. I would sit down with a piece of paper to write notes, and I'd literally feel a repulsive force. It was like, "I can't do this." It felt like going in the wrong direction. So I'd go for a walk or meditate instead.

Nowadays, when I give a talk, I have some basic idea in my mind. I've formed a rough outline, maybe three points or a starting direction. Then, as I give the talk, the path opens up in front of me and I just follow the trail. Sometimes it takes me away from where I thought I was going.

When I give a talk these days, I'm also still trying to understand what I'm teaching. That's my preferred stance. People who listen to me might think I know a lot about Buddhism—which is true—but my internal feeling is that I'm actually on the edge of what I don't understand, and that's where I like to be. I'm exploring it with you.

The other thing I've learned in these years of teaching is trying to stay in touch with the feeling tone inside of whatever I'm teaching. There's a feeling tone, a quality, or sensations inside that go along with it. I'm trying to feel my way into something, not just talk about it.

Occasionally, I get into what I call my "explanatory mode." My wife will ask how it went today, and I'll say, "Oh, I fell into my explanatory mode." When that happens, I'm just explaining something and my heart is not in it. It's very dry; it feels like cardboard to me. Sometimes I recognize it and I don't know how to get out of it, and I just have to put up with it for that day. I should apologize for those days because I don't like just explaining things. There's something much more important going on.