“He who is overcome by craving lets his grief grow like the grass”.

The Buddha taught that the mental pictures which craving creates make up the delusion of ‘me’, who consequently feels insecure. Encouraged by relentless advertising, this ‘I’/’me’ is constantly driven to seek more, bigger, better. Alternatively, ‘I’ attempts to push away what it judges as ‘not suiting me’. In such ways we strive to arrange our lives.

Once when I was a teenager, my mother kindly brought me an early morning cup of tea in bed. Having had a very late night before and wanting more sleep, I greeted her with: “Why do you have to pick on me?”

As an antidote to craving it has become quite popular to keep a ‘gratitude diary’. Studies have revealed that such a practice leads to lowered feelings of stress and depression. There are claims that gratitude stimulates the hypothalamus which regulates the stress that ‘I’ brings. When we are in good health and the sun shines and things seem to be going my way, it is perhaps only natural to be grateful. Recently there was an overwhelming feeling of thankfulness when my husband’s radiotherapy appeared to have been successful. However, as the Buddha pointed out, everything, including ‘me’, is constantly changing. Clinging to anything inevitably leads to suffering. The following story from the Nirvana Sutra reminds us that good and bad fortune are intrinsically linked.

‘There was once a man who lived by himself in a village. One day there was a knock on the door. When he opened it, he was confronted by the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was wearing flowing rainbow-coloured garments. Her long hair was decorated with sparkling jewels. Her face was radiant and her figure full of grace. The man was immediately captivated. He asked her name – “I am the Goddess of Pleasant Virtue. I am here to give you love, wealth and success”. The man was overcome with joy. He invited her in and immediately started to prepare a delicious feast for her. Whilst he was cooking, there was another knock on the door. The man opened it and standing on the doorstep was the ugliest woman he had ever seen. She was wearing torn, ragged clothes. Her hair was dirty and unkempt. She scowled angrily. The man was frightened out of his wits. In a trembling voice he asked her name. She replied – “I am the Goddess of Unpleasant Darkness. I am here to give you poverty, failure and loneliness”. The man tried to close the door in her face but she resisted. She said, “I always travel with my twin sister. Where she goes, I go. It is impossible to entertain her without me”. With a sinking heart, the man asked the Goddess of Pleasant Virtue if this were true. She smiled sadly and replied, “Yes, we are never apart”.’

Through the Zen training we learn to be grateful for whatever befalls us. Our teachers are always reminding us that challenging events offer precious training opportunities. When the hot flames of craving flare up, we are encouraged to reverently ask them to ‘burn me away’. When we suffer this churning and burning, Choiceless Awareness opens from self-consciousness.

There was once a Sufi saint who had many followers. One young man had recently joined them. He tried hard to copy the saint in all his actions. One day the young man watched the saint joyfully dancing down the road. The saint stopped at a market stall and drank a glass of wine. The young man was delighted. He visited the stall himself and also drank some wine. Further down the road the saint stopped at a smithy’s fire. With equal equanimity he popped a burning coal into his mouth. The young man looked on in horror and was unable to follow suit. For the Sufi saint, fully imbued with Choiceless Awareness, the glass of wine was equal to the hot coal. Pleasure/pain, good/bad had ceased to be opposites. It wasn’t that the saint was ‘resigned’ to the hot coal in his mouth. He wasn’t waiting for the burning to stop. Being free from ‘I, me, mine,’ he had become completely one with it. There was pain but no one to name it.

In Choiceless Awareness there is contentment with our ordinary everyday routine. There is no craving for anything special or extraordinary. This is expressed in the following story.

‘The monk Ikkyu was asked by a merchant to write something suitable on the birth of his grandchild. Ikkyu wrote, “The parent dies, the child dies, the grandchild dies”. The merchant was puzzled and asked the monk why he had written such morbid words. Ikkyu replied, “First the parent dies, then the child dies and at last the grandchild grows old and dies. This is the natural order. If your family experiences death in the natural order, you will have great happiness”.’

By applying ourselves wholeheartedly to Zazen and the daily life practice this happiness is discovered. When sitting Zazen, we are not disturbed by a painful memory. It is seen to arise and then pass away. In Choiceless Awareness we do not make up a story about it. A blackbird’s song is heard. Our heart rolls with it. Without clinging. We give ourselves into cherishing and caring for everyone and everything surrounding us. We no longer become bored with them. We no longer wish for change or novelty. There is nothing lacking because we are no longer separate from all we encounter. Everyone and everything offers the gift of self-transcendence. Gratitude and contentment arise spontaneously.