It was, once again, my honour to attend this year's annual spring sesshin at Stowell Farm with the sangha of Salt Spring Zen Circle. It is my yearly habit to attend this sesshin, both for the kind company of the humans who practice there and the profound dharma of Peter Levitt.
At the first day dharma talk, Peter asked us to reflect on our "deepest inner request" and suggested that this request may have informed our desire to attend this seriously rigorous meditation retreat. There it is. The first question on the first day.
What is your "utmost deepest inner request"?
Peter asked us to question, "what do you really want"?
And then drop deeper.
And then ask, "what is your true intention"?
And then drop deeper.
Now......"what is your utmost deepest inner request"?
What is it?
Peter gave us this beautiful poem by French poet Jacques Prevert. This poem had some useful clues for our elusive search.
How to paint a bird
Paint first a cage
with the door open
next paint
something pretty
something simple
something lovely
something of use
to the bird
then put the canvas near a tree
in a garden
in a woods
or in a forest
hide behind the tree
say nothing
don't move
sometimes the bird will come quickly
but it can just as well take many years
before deciding
don't be disheartened
wait
wait years if need be
the pace of the bird's arrival
bearing no relation
to the success of the painting
When the bird comes
if it comes
keep very still
wait for the bird to enter the cage
and once it has
gently shut the door with the brush
then
paint out the bars one by one
taking care not to touch any of the bird's feathers
next paint the tree's portrait
choosing the loveliest of its branches
for the bird
paint likewise the green leaves and the fresh breeze
the sun's scintillation
and the clamour of crickets in the heat of summer
and then wait until the bird decides to sing
if the bird does not sing
that's a bad sign
but if it sings that's a good sign
a sign you can sign.
by Jacques Prevert
The sangha sat with "what is this?' for the next few days. At the end of this time, all I knew was that I had painted many birds that did not sing. In fact, I was seriously wondering if any of my bird portraits had every sung.
I continued the hunt after I arrived home. Having some awareness of our deepest inner request would enrich our relationship with ourselves. It was a worthy study. The path that lead to this "request" was going to be elusive. I noticed that every time I seemed to get close to the path, I would be left with an empty hand. An empty hand in an empty field. Maybe, I was, at least, in the right place.
My mental skills would be of no use in this search. The answer would not lie in the mental world. I could not even pretend that I had any direct control over whether the bird would arrive or not. All doing or trying was fruitless in this endeavour. There would only be the open door of the cage and the "allowing" that this would provide. I was waiting on the bird.
I was aware that on the path to realizing this "request", one would have to practice a new way. Unfortunately, a less practiced way. It would require patience and discipline. I would have to engage "action" that was actually no action at all.
Us and the request are really just one thing. It is here that the intimacy lies. To have the experience of the bird singing would require full engagement with the bird. Any separation between myself and the bird would only create another bad painting.
I needed to listen to Jacques Prevert's directions carefully.
First, I would paint the cage with the open door. The bars, which create obstacles between the real world and myself, were created by me for safety. I would paint them with compassion for myself. The cage needed to be kind, modest and useful to the bird. And I would paint the open door. We are "allowed" to leave the cage. Allowing would be a necessary ingredient in the singing of the bird.
Trying or knowing would not be useful.
Then, I must create the right conditions for the bird. To have a chance for the bird to arrive, we need to go to the places where birds live.
Now, I had to get out of the way. If the conditions are wholesome and helpful, the bird will arrive. I need to know nothing, do nothing and make no sound. Now we just wait. This is the action of no action. And full surrender to waiting suspends time. It is the patience to fully understand that we have everything we need right now.
If, by chance, the conditions are just right. The bird may arrive. Bow deeply with gratitude for the arrival. The bars can now be removed, as these illusions of safety are no longer necessary and, just extra. Still, do not interfere with even one feather of the bird. Have faith that it has come whole and does not require any containment. Open your hand.
Wait for the bird "to decide" to sing. Again, get out of the way. Any expectation at this point and the bird will not sing.
But if all is surrendered and full faith is applied, you and the bird will be one thing. You and your "deepest inner request" will just be you. Just be the bird. All in one. No separations. Full intimacy with yourself.
Thank you, Peter, for the extra instruction.
Deep bows to the practice of this new way.
Norma
