Meditation helps us put down the baggage we carry around. Traveling lightly, we feel airborne. We move into a keener love of simplicity.
There is a story by Mark Twain about someone who dies and goes to “heaven” and gets a pair of wings and a harp. At first, they used the wings as a way of moving around the new place, and plucked on the strings of the harp trying to get some divine tunes out of it.
They soon realize, though, that in this place you don’t need wings to go anywhere and simply by desiring to hear divine tunes, celestial musicians (their house band, I suppose) show up and play.
After dropping the wings and the harp, they found a profound fulfillment in simply being.
We all just want to be happy and feel at home in our own lives, but, as the song goes, we are looking in all the wrong places.
We burden ourselves with unnecessary wings or harps thinking that happiness is all about having certain things or acting in a special way. Many of the voices we listen to lead us on a long walk on the hedonic treadmill Buddhists call samsara.
But one day we have this marvelous insight: we already have what we need.
This meditation is a radical act of self-discovery. We uncover the treasure of our very own being. We lose interest in listening to the voices shouting at us about our deficiencies.
One of my teachers Sharon Salzberg says:
We learn not to get caught in trying to reach after things we never really needed to begin with.
Along these lines, the poet Rumi asks:
How long will we fill our pockets Like children with dirt and stones? Let the world go. Holding it We never know ourselves, never are air-born.
Meditation helps us put down the baggage we carry around so we can be airborne and travel lightly. We move into a keener love of simplicity — of lifestyle, speech, and even how to do the dishes and arrange our sitting space.
We get less caught up in what others say about us, or imagine they say.
The grip on our likes and dislikes softens.
We eventually get how much nicer it is to relax into our natural, free and easy being-ness that is already right here, right now, than it is to struggle with having things be other than they are how they are.
But if we haven’t tasted this free-and-easy being-ness, it can be a hard sell to the psyche.
You’ll know the sweet taste of being-ness by accidentally stumbling upon it in your practice.
You can’t make this happen on purpose.
You just need to develop a daily meditation habit and put the time in. As the late Indian author and speaker Jiddu Krishnamurti remarked:
Enlightenment is an accident. Meditation makes you accident prone.
Then, each moment is fine. Each moment is enough.
Each moment, no matter how mundane or annoying, is profound and meaningful.
We practice, as the poet Wendell Berry tells us in this his poem The Wild Geese:
… not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye, clear. What we need is here.
This meditation is a self-discovery. We uncover the treasure of our very own being. We lose interest in listening to the voices shouting at us about our deficiencies.
Someone once asked Suzuki Roshi, the pioneering Zen teacher from Japan who founded the Zen Center of San Francisco in 1969:
“Roshi, what’s the most important thing?” and he answered:
To find out what’s the most important thing.
Byron Katie, who teaches a practice called self-inquiry, said that the world’s number one problem is confusion. As we hang in there with meditation practice, week after week, a little clarity starts to emerge.
The most important thing that brought us to the meditation cushion may not seem so important as we progress. We may have signed up to get an edge in academia or our social life, maybe to find a group to hang out with.
After a while, it sinks in: meditation is not self improvement, it’s self-discovery. It’s more about undoing and unlearning conditioned habits rather than getting some special meditation goodies.
We all just want to be happy and feel at home in our own lives
And to feel a connection with the world and other beings.
But, as the song goes, we are looking in all the wrong places. By habitually looking outside of our skin for fulfillment and happiness, we struggle.
So many of the voices we listen to- both in our own head and outside, through the media, lead us on a long walk on the hedonic treadmill Buddhists call samsara.
But one day we have this marvelous insight: We already have what we need.
This meditation is a self-discovery. We uncover the treasure of our very own being. We lose interest in listening to the voices shouting at us about our deficiencies.
As one of my teachers Sharon Salzberg says:
We learn not to get caught in trying to reach out and grasp after things we never really needed to begin with.
How long will we fill our pockets like children with dirt and stones? Let the world go. Holding it, we never know ourselves, never are airborne.
Meditation helps us put down the baggage we carry around so we can be airborne and travel lightly in this world.
This letting go can be subtle, nuanced. We usually associate letting go as letting go of something. But as the teacher Gil Fronsdal points out, there is a complimentary movement here.
With enough practice we appreciate the story doesn’t end with letting go: we discover we are letting go of something but we also are letting go into something else.
Gil Fronsdal offers this metaphor: a diver lets go of the diving board the seconds later dives into the cool water of the pool, much as we let go of impatience then seconds later relaxing into a feeling of ease.
If we find ourselves gripped in panic or fear, we learn to let go into the felt safety of relaxation.
We eventually get how much nicer it is to relax into our natural, free and easy being-ness than it is to struggle with something.
But if we haven’t tasted this free-and-easy being-ness, it’s a hard sell to the psyche.
You’ll know the sweet taste of being-ness by accidentally stumbling upon it in your practice. You can’t make this happen on purpose. You just need to meditate every day and hang in there.
Then, each moment is fine. Each moment is enough. Nothing missing or lacking, as the Zen teachers of old would say.
Every moment is appreciated as profound and meaningful.
Redemptive suffering suggests that even in pain, there’s potential for positive change. We’ll look at practical ways to apply it in the context of contemporary mindfulness.
Redemptive suffering is the idea that suffering can lead to growth. It can bring about a positive transformation. Theology sees suffering as a path to atonement. Philosophy views it as an opportunity for self-discovery. Psychology suggests it can build resilience.
For Buddhism, this is the foundational insight.
Suffering takes many forms. Physical pain is one type. Emotional distress, like grief or anxiety, is another. Mental anguish, such as depression, also counts. Spiritual struggles, questioning faith, are included too.
Everyone faces suffering. It is an unavoidable part of life.
The Redemptive Element
How can suffering be “redemptive“? It can atone for past wrongs. It can help with personal and spiritual growth. Pain can breed empathy.
By understanding our own pain, we grasp the pain of others.
It’s vital to avoid romanticizing suffering. Pain isn’t inherently good. Don’t seek it out. Redemptive suffering is about what you do with the pain that you can’t avoid. Finding meaning in hard times is the key.
The Benefits of Embracing Redemptive Suffering
Facing suffering with intention can bring unexpected benefits. It can improve your mental state. It can improve your spiritual life.
Increased Empathy and Compassion
Suffering expands your understanding. It makes you more aware of the pain others feel. A person who has battled depression understands another’s struggle. This understanding can lead to acts of kindness. It can inspire service to others.
Spiritual Growth and Transformation
Suffering can shake your beliefs. This leads to reflection. It leads to a stronger sense of faith. Some call it a “spiritual awakening.” Difficult times prompt deep questions. They lead to profound changes.
Developing Resilience and Strength
Overcoming challenges builds resilience. It strengthens your mind. Redemptive suffering gives you coping skills. It improves your problem-solving abilities. Each challenge overcome makes you stronger for the next.
Redemptive Suffering in Buddhism
Buddhism sees suffering as part of life. It emphasizes detachment. Liberation comes from mindfulness. Meditation can reduce pain and suffering.
redemptive suffering in Buddhism
Other Religions/Philosophies
Judaism uses remembrance to give tragedy purpose. Islam views trials as tests of faith. Hinduism embraces suffering as karma to be worked through. Stoicism teaches acceptance of what can’t be controlled.
Practical Steps to Finding Redemption in Suffering
You can take action to find meaning when life gets tough. Here’s how to cope and grow.
Acknowledge and Accept Your Pain
Don’t ignore your suffering. Acknowledge it. Acceptance is the first step toward healing. It opens the door for growth.
Seek Support and Connection
Talk to others. Reach out to friends. Join a support group. Community helps you navigate tough times. Shared experiences make the burden lighter.
Historical Examples of Resilience
Nelson Mandela spent years in prison. His suffering fueled his fight for justice. The Civil Rights Movement arose from generations of oppression. Suffering can be the catalyst for social change.
Redemptive suffering is about finding meaning in pain. It’s a catalyst for growth. It brings transformation. Embrace suffering as a chance to live a more meaningful life. There is always hope, even in the darkest times.
As we surrender more deeply, we acknowledge our multi-layered resistances and face our egoic conditioning head on. Humility allows us to recognize and allow fuller access to these layers.
Every one would agree suffering is a natural part of who we are: we are born, grow old and sick, we die. Along the way there are countless separations and insults. This aspect of suffering is undeniable.
The Buddha also described a second, more subtle form of suffering.
He taught this level of suffering was entirely of our own doing: the psychic displeasure caused by clinging, by our attachments, our reluctance to surrender our views, opinions and desires.
In the Christian view, it seems Jesus took suffering and transformed it into love. He did not flinch. Through his courage we have come to know something very precious and transformative: suffering as redemptive.
When we approach suffering as ultimately redemptive, I feel we can appreciate the work of humility. No matter how advanced you think you are in your meditation practice, if you lose sight of humility, your practice is hurtful.
There is a tendency to think we can somehow get it all together with good meditation. That we can move past suffering for good.
We can experience life with more spaciousness, with less reactivity, and more warmth, but I don’t see us getting out of suffering, no matter what we read. I don’t think it’s particularly helpful to take on the programming regarding the end of suffering that is so prevalent in the spiritual advertising handed down to us for hundreds of years.
Rather, it might be more psychologically and spiritually grounding to acknowledge the saying attributed to one of the most celebrated spiritual figures of early Christianity, St. Anthony. He is said to have remarked “expect pain and temptation to the last day of your life.”
This just feels truer. No matter how advanced you think you are, or will ever be, expect pain and temptation.
I am speaking here from some forty years of Buddhist influenced meditation. I was taught over and over that there is an end to suffering. This sets up the expectation that this will come about with deeper and more correct practice.
Rather, let’s acknowledge that this whole thing is fragile and frail all the way through, from bow to stern. It’s so easy to buy into some fairy tale like expectation of getting it all together.
What if instead of getting it together, we allowed life to be fully tragic?
Isn’t this humility?
Cynthia Bourgeault, in a commentary on The Cloud of Unknowing, which I was listening to the other day on CDs received recently as a gift from a dear friend, quoted Helen Luke when she got to the Cloud’s teaching on meekness. I don’t have the exact words, but Helen writes something to the effect that wholeness is born out of the willingness to bear the struggle between the divine and the human.
Wholeness, or the transformation we all seek (w-holiness?) doesn’t come from the divine somehow canceling out the human. We stop thinking along these collusive lines. Wholeness is simply the willingness to bear the struggle; to allow whatever is there to simply be there. And to let ourselves be moved.
Self-emptying love
I think this may be what Christianity calls self-emptying. It takes on a very rich context in Jesus’ self-emptying love.
The heightened and extended practice of Buddhist nonattachment empties the self into nothingness; it is in this nothingness that we find peace. It is in this nothingness that Christian mystics find God.
at times, we all need a little encouragement
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