Contemplating Earth

All through the retreat Shifu spoke about compassion. It hit home, as it always has in previous retreats, but at those times, save for a shiver here or a sniffle there, nothing out of the ordinary came of it. Not so on Thursday afternoon. Shifu had us stand for a session of prostrations, but he introduced a method I had never encountered before. Usually he has us contemplate the movement of the body or the pettiness of our past thoughts, words and actions.

At the start of these prostrations, Shifu said; "Contemplate the Earth. The Earth is truly humble, truly compassionate. Anything we want, it gives to us unconditionally. Anything we throw back, it takes without complaint. This is true compassion. It is compassion without ego. Contemplate as your head touches the ground that it is touching the Earth. The Earth is where your body comes from, where it will return to. The Earth will convert it into something that others can use again."

My eyes welled as he said this. As I prostrated I began to cry. It came in shudders, my throat tightening, my belly spasming. All these years Shih-fu has talked about the infinite selfless compassion of Buddha, but infinity and selflessness are hard concepts to comprehend. The Earth is solid. I have a strong affinity for nature. I understood the analogy and it blew me away.

"The Earth compassionate? But the Earth doesn't know what it's doing?" It hit like a broad axe across the forehead: "That's what Shifu has been saying about Buddha's compassion. That's what all the sutras say. Buddha just gives without any thought or idea of giving! Buddha has no sense of self, no ego. Is that what it means to be egoless?" In comparison, my compassion is trivial. No, it's less than that, it's not even compassion in the Buddhist sense. It's more attachment. There are always ulterior motives when an ego is concerned, even if they are the most altruistic motives."

I prostrated the entire session with tears running down my face, the revelation driving into my mind and heart again and again. When the session ended, I lost it. I knelt down and put my face in the towel, crying like a baby. Shifu tapped me and told me to go downstairs to wash my face. In the bathroom I tried to settle down, but when I turned on the cold water tap and watched the water instantly pour into the sink, I cried again. Here was the Earth giving again, immediately and without questions. When I cleared my throat and spat into the sink I thought “Is that all I can give you in return?” I peed into the urinal as well, crying, thinking that I was thanking the Earth with spit and piss.

Entering the meditation hall, Shifu directed me to the interview room. I sat before him, ashamed that I was crying, yet unable to stop myself. He asked, "Is your crying an emotional response because of your contemplation?"

"Yes, but it's out of control."
"Have you ever cried before on retreat?"
"Never like this."
"Good. Are you through?"
"No. There is enough built up for me to cry a river." Then I asked, through sobs, "Is the world a Buddha?"
"Yes. The world, air, earth, fire, water, everything is Buddha."
"And the Buddha's compassion is like the Earth's?"
"Yes, and more."

"So giving" I sobbed, "and I am such a small, selfish person. My heart feels like a clenched fist and it hurts. I don't think I can ever cry enough tears to make up for my selfishness."

"It is a good experience," Shifu said. "You are leaving in a little while so rest. The retreat is over for you. Go to the second floor and look at the world outside the window, then come back for evening service if you feel better."

I did so and watched the frenetic rhythm of humanity. Ch'i tingled in my entire body and my belly and chest convulsed like a bellows, as waves of emotion and energy washed through me. The world was busy. Students coming out of school, people getting on and off buses, and making phone calls and deals. Warm air baked by concrete and asphalt pushed through the window. First the world looked normal, then it swung toward extreme ugliness and filth, man's creation. My feelings were sinking when a truck crossed my view with "Moving Mudanzas" painted across it's side. From my Italian upbringing, a slang word sounding like mudanza came to my mind and I pictured a bunch of fat, mustached women dancing and I laughed through my tears. Buddha has a sense of humour, I thought.

My mood swung toward the other extreme and I saw things as being kind, good and loving. Latinos jiving, greeting each other with hugs and kisses, though they probably saw each other only a few hours earlier. Across the street a young boy talking with a woman waiting for a bus. A car stopped for the light and through the window a mother with her small boy on her lap caressing his face with loving hands. Then my eyes came to rest on the word 'Atlas', the god that holds up the Earth Shifu had me prostrate to, only the name had been reduced to the name of a sanitation company, stencilled across a grimy dumpster. Buddha irony I thought?

It's all Buddha. The feather floating down on the breeze from a pigeon flying by, is Buddha falling down from Buddha, through Buddha and on to Buddha. So are the trash people, ignoring and sidestepping. It's all Buddha. But what about the violence, the pain, the suffering I saw on many faces? Is that Buddha too? I didn't know, I still don't know.

I shook it away, my shivers subsiding and I went back to watching, leaving a trailing thought drawn from Hui Neng's Platform Sutra: "Is the suffering I see Buddha? Is it ignorance? No, it's only my mind moving as usual. While it moves I am missing the world. The world keeps going. It's not going to wait for me." Back in the present the world came into view again. Each thought the present thought. Each moment a new beginning. I turned and saw Shifu standing in the doorway, beckoning me to join Evening Service.