Patience - by Nonin Chowaney

Decision-making can be difficult. Life is so full of options these days that frequently any direction is a possibility, and we don't know which way to move. We weigh the options, seek advice, and mull things over yet are still unable to decide which direction to take.

Sometimes we try to rush the decision-making process because staying in it is too unsettling, or too painful. We want to bring things to a conclusion and make a move as soon as possible. But, things take time, something we're not willing to take in our culture, which moves so quickly and attempts to provide instant solutions to complex problems. 

When this happens to me, I don't move in any direction but try to let go of all the considering and weighing and just let things be. I sit with the question until the direction in which to move becomes clear. This does not mean that I try to keep the question in the forefront of consciousness while sitting zazen. It means putting the question on the back burner and not consciously thinking about it. In this way, things can percolate on a deeper level.    

There's an old Taoist metaphor that applies here: if you want a glass of muddy water to clear, leave it alone and let it settle out by itself. If you try to stir it clear, it will only get cloudier. In the Tao Teh Ching, Lao Tzu writes:

This is hard for us because we've been taught to let the cognitive process take care of decision-making. We are taught to weigh the pros and cons and then choose a direction that is most beneficial to us. We are a nation of stirrers! Instead of sitting still and letting things come to us, we are told to "Go for it!”

I have found, however, that instead of trying to direct or control life, it makes more sense and is more conducive to contentment to just let it unfold.

When I first came to Omaha many years ago, we had no place of our own, and there was little participation. Almost every day I thought: "Should I go somewhere else? Maybe I'll give it another year. But where would I go?" I was having difficulty, and when that happens, my first inclination is to leave. Then, the second inclination is to try to "fix things," to do something to change the situation so it's more in line with what I want. Finally, I said to myself: "You don't know what to do or where to go. Things are too muddy; sit down, shut up, and don't move."

By sitting down, calming the mind, and letting things settle out, we allow the situation to be. We live with our question and let answers come by themselves without forcing the issue. Then, when we move, it's from a settled, calm place, and our movements will be steady and true. If we move from a scattered, unstable place, our movements will be unsteady and erratic.

We can see this in concrete examples from daily life. I was watching a video tape of a friend's martial arts competition a while back and noticed that before beginning their routines, each competitor stopped, bowed to the judges, and then stood up straight, took a deep breath, and remained motionless for a moment before beginning their movements. This is a centering, gathering process that fosters true movement. Other athletes also do this. When basketball players shoot foul shots, the good ones take a deep breath and settle in before they let it go. Those who clang the ball off the rim shoot hurriedly and stiffly, without cultivating a calm, stable place to shoot from.

The principle here is clear, but in the midst of our own confusion, we ask: “How do we know when to move?” The answer is, “If we don't know, if it's not clear, we're not ready.” If not moving means an opportunity slips by or a path closes, we've made our choice by not doing. If we're not ready, we're just not ready, and the decision has made itself.

Sometimes, our confusion is great. Life is difficult, and at times, it can be hellish. The deeper the difficulty or the more complicated the problem, the more important it is to be quiet and allow enough time for things to settle out.

This sitting down and not moving in the middle of confusion, indecision, or pain is called "patience" or "endurance." This quality is one of the Six Paramitas (Perfections) of the Bodhisattva, the enlightened being. It is one of the areas of life in which Bodhisattvas try to perfect themselves [the other Paramitas are giving, living the precepts, effort, wisdom, and meditation].

To better understand patience, let's look at the Chinese character, which is "nin." Like many characters, it is made out of two separate ones. The upper means, "sword blade." The lower, "heart." The meaning is: to bear something painful in the heart. The sword blade is poised, ready to slice. Backed into this corner, we cannot move. Therefore, "patience," or "endurance." When we don't know which way to turn, or where to go, any movement at all can not only further muddy the water but can also bring disaster: the sword blade severs the heart and all is lost. Thus, the value of patience.

My master, Dainin Katagiri, called this, "not being able to move an inch." When life backs us into a corner, sometimes all we can do is sit there and endure it; there is nothing else to do. We find ourselves working a job that has become unfulfilling and boring but cannot leave because of family considerations. We lose a loved one to drugs. A family member commits suicide. We want to do something, make a move, end the pain, but there is nothing to do.   

When we experience extreme pain, it is natural to want to end it, escape it, or at least make it better. We have a beer, turn on the TV, look for someone to hug, smoke a joint, or get some chocolate. But when the bottle is empty, the lover leaves, or the program is over, the pain comes again, and it is endless.

True patience, or endurance, is sitting in and through every moment of our lives, whether we like it or not. Zen Master Dogen puts it this way: "No matter how bad a state of mind you get into, if you hold out over the long run, the clouds will disappear and the autumn winds will cease. That is a fact."

The important thing is to hold out, to endure, and to realize that it takes time for things to settle out. But eventually, everything changes, the pain ends, and the direction to move in becomes clear.