Retreat Report Rebecca Li

Extracts from Rebecca Li’s report on her breakthrough retreat 2010

I continued to hear the silence and maintain an open awareness of body, mind and environment. I found them to be arbitrary categories, none carrying more weight than the others. They arose like bubbles or ripples in a body of water and disappeared without a trace, leaving the mind back to silence. Yet I noticed a thought that arose rather consistently: “I can report this to Simon.” After a while, I realized that I had this tendency of doing things to please others. Underlying these thoughts was the belief and feeling that I would be happy if I could bring the news and make the teacher happy. This childish reliance on others’ affirmation was laid bare in my mind. “Why couldn’t I stand on my own and take responsibility for my practice and my life?” I asked myself. It was clear that it was the main source of suffering in my life. This subtle samskara had caused me to doubt myself at a deeper level even when I was convinced that I was doing the right thing by my rationality and intellect. I needed to resolve this riddle, “Why can’t I grow up to be a truly independent person?” I continued to watch the mind with everything arising and perishing, with this question gnawing at me in the background. 

On the next day, after the morning meditation, the mind was very calm, clear and spacious. When the bell rang, the stillness continued and I could have continued sitting. Then the mind stirred as others prepared for morning service. I watched the mind giving rise to thoughts of giving up and allowing leg discomfort as excuse. I sensed resistance of some sort in the mind and I investigated further. I found the answer to my question. I discovered a knot in the heart hidden deep down; I realized I did not believe that I too could go all the way in the practice. That’s why I allowed myself to give up rather than pushing on in the practice. 

As I shared this revelation with Simon, it was extremely emotional. It was a huge lump of sorrow wanting to be pulled out, displayed in the open and let go. After the tearful recounting of the story, the sorrow was nowhere to be found. The belief about my inability to amount to anything in the practice that seemed to have defined my being at the deepest level showed itself as nothing more than another thought. It has been heard, and now liberated, no longer having anything to do with me. I shared this revelation in the interview with Simon. He said, “The mind is empty,” and I responded, “Indeed.” 

* * * 

I told Simon that I couldn’t believe all the books that have been written about this. It is just right here, in front of our face. We both burst into laughter. Simon said that’s why the Buddha would not teach at first. I said, “What would he talk about?” Simon then said that people practiced for years, going through lots of difficulties, to find this, the ordinary mind. I said, “I still can’t get over all those books written about this.” We burst into laughter again and we laughed so hard that Simon had to wipe off some tears. He asked, “Who is enjoying the joke?” The laughter is now gone. There is silence. I responded, “No more joke.” 

* * * 

He then said, “You still have not answered my question. Have you discovered the emptiness of yourself ?” I told him yes, with a smile. I told Simon, “This silence is really loud. How can we not hear it? Our mind must have been really noisy!” We both had a good laugh. I told Simon that thoughts and sensations arise and perish moment to moment. Nothing matters. Yet, this “nothing matters” is not nihilistic. Even though everything is impermanent, it does not mean that it is meaningless. When they arise, they serve their functions. Then they perish. Everything is fine, perfect as it is. 

I continued with the practice sitting, walking, eating, resting, working, using the washroom, showering. The silence of the mind stayed with me. The wood-creaking sound of the Chan Hall comes and goes. The sound of someone coughing comes and goes. Cool air touching my body when I walk by a window. Sensation of the knees from the bending and buttock from the pressure on the cushion, while crystal clear as I sit, disappears as the legs are released. Not a trace of the idea of the pain remains. Thoughts arise and go away. None of these stick to the silence, like birds leaving no trace whatsoever after flying across the sky. 

* * * 

I discovered that my father loves me. In fact, what happened was I allowed myself to believe that my father truly loves me. In the previous evening, a strong emotion arose as the thoughts of my father reminding me of my Chinese birthday came through my mind. The feeling hidden beneath this memory that had been obscured by other notions about my father revealed itself. I was not paying attention. Sitting on my cushion, with a clear mind, his deep affection for me was clear. Related to this, I also discovered how truly deeply I love my husband. The fear of emotional attachment was not there. It is okay to love and to accept love and to want to be with my loved ones. Everything is fine. Words cannot describe the fundamental importance of this discovery, that love is perfectly fine. It makes me human. 

When standing in the breakfast line on the Friday, something happened that made it appear as if someone was going to skip in front of me in line. The thought that consists of my belief about how the line was supposed to work arose and perished. It was followed immediately by a more “Dharma” thought, telling myself that it is okay and it is all causes and conditions. This thought too arose and perished. I discovered that they were both thoughts. The so-called “Dharma” thought was not more real or inherently true than the so-called “self-centered” thought. They are both empty. Then I realized that the Dharma-self has been bullying the non- Dharma-self because of the erroneous belief that the former is more true, thus sometimes depriving the chance of the latter to be given a fair hearing. It became clear where the resistance that manifested in the form of resentment, guilt and rebellion that arose from time to time came from. This is another thing that had apparently been bothering me in the deeper corner of my consciousness. The discovery freed me. 

During the morning service, thoughts about the past arose while the chanting was going on. I realized that thoughts about the past are as much a part of the present as everything else, the chanting, the sound of the Dharma instruments, the sound of the room, etc., happening in the present. A thought is no different from a sound, both arise and perish and thus empty; the latter no more real nor pure than the former. These so-called “wandering thoughts” or “illusory thoughts” are not a problem and there is no need to fear them. Some of my “Dharma-related” views are slowly being illuminated. 

* * * 

The mind can function perfectly fine without my being involved. I continued to practice no-method. When sitting, I did not meditate, but just sat. When I got up for the standing exercises, I let go of the method. Everything was crystal clear, perfectly fine. The mind does not need any method. The mind is pure, immaculate, perfect in itself. I realized that I had been reluctant to let go of the method. 

 It then became clear to me that, over the past day, I had slowly learned to let go of the Dharma, as instructed by the Diamond Sutra. It was not easy and I could see why the Buddha found it necessary to give this instruction. The Dharma, with its method and views, had served its purpose. The mind is naturally bright and clear. It does not need these words. 

One last thing to report – when I was sitting on the toilet, the body was doing its thing. Sound of the fan came on. Footsteps on the floor. Water running from the faucets. Faucets turned off. Sound of lever of paper towel dispenser being pushed. No need for me to be here. Simon asked if I came back. I said, “Yes, I needed to leave the toilet.” He asked if this happened before. I told him, “a number of times, while eating, walking, sitting, when the self was not needed. Self comes and goes. It’s okay.” 

Simon then told me, “It is clear that you have seen the nature. Congratulations.” I thanked Simon. Although one may think that this ought to be a moment of great excitement or joy, it was really quite an ordinary moment. 

* * * 

That evening after everyone retired, I paid my gratitude to Shifu by doing some prostrations. No word would be sufficient in describing my gratitude. My deep gratitude also goes to John Crook and Simon Child who gave me personal guidance over the years in Western Zen Retreats and Koan Retreats. The discoveries made in those retreats were invaluable for preparing me for this retreat. I cannot help but feel that I have to be one of the most blessed people in the world, having encountered not one but three great masters to help me with my practice.