Help, I can’t hear the mountain stream!

Must. Appreciate. The moment. !!

A Zen Master was walking in silence with one of his disciples along a mountain trail. When they came to an ancient cedar tree, they sat down under it for a simple meal of some rice and vegetables. After the meal, the disciple, a young monk who had not yet found the key to the mystery of Zen, broke the silence by asking the Master, “Master, how do I enter Zen?”

He was, of course, enquiring how to enter the state of consciousness, which is Zen.

The Master remained silent. Almost five minutes passed while the disciple anxiously waited for an answer. He was about to ask another question when the Master suddenly spoke. “Do you hear the sound of that mountain stream?”

The disciple had not been aware of any mountain stream. He had been too busy thinking about the meaning of Zen. Now, as he began to listen for the sound, his noisy mind subsided. At first he heard nothing. Then, his thinking gave way to heightened alertness, and suddenly he did hear the hardly perceptible murmur of a small stream in the far distance.

“Yes, I can hear it now,” he said.

The Master raised his finger and, with a look in his eyes that in some way was both fierce and gentle, said, “Enter Zen from there.”

The disciple was stunned. It was his first satori - a flash of enlightenment. He knew what Zen was without knowing what it was that he knew!

They continued on their journey in silence. The disciple was amazed at the aliveness of the world around him. He experienced everything as if for the first time. Gradually, however, he started thinking again. The alert stillness became covered up again by mental noise, and before long he had another question. “Master,” he said, “I have been thinking. What would you have said if I hadn't been able to hear the mountain stream?” The Master stopped, looked at him, raised his finger and said, “Enter Zen from there.”

* * *

A while ago, a friend was reiterating the value of mindfulness,“…because it's just so important to appreciate every moment, isn't it.”she said.

I'll be honest, this slightly freaked me out! (Despite her really wanting to get mindfulness, my friend was struggling to feel the benefits of it and couldn't work out why - given she was trying so hard to "appreciate" the moment.) And it made me wonder if the notion that mindfulness is about appreciating every moment is a tad linguistically confusing. As it kind of insinuates a “forcing”, a need to elevate our experience somehow, while laced with the fear that we must enjoy NOW before we lose it.

For me, this isn't mindfulness. Because what about when you can't hear the mountain stream? When all you can hear is a jackhammer? What about when you're looking at the beautiful view / your beautiful child / just arrived on your dream holiday and all you feel is sadness or numbness or panic or grief?

From what I've experienced the key to mindfulness is: “it just feels like this” and the unlock is “surrender”. Paradoxically, by allowing whatever “is”, the door to peace is then free to swing open.

We feel the physical feeling of sadness and allow the thoughts to come in and out. We feel the stress, we feel what numb feels* like. We turn towards the grief in our gut and let it be. We then turn out to our senses (sights, sounds, tastes, touch, smells) just as they are.

*note “feeling” not more “thinking”…!

It's so lovely when we can “hear the mountain stream” through mindfulness and meditation. And my how we sing their praises when we're on track and feeling the benefits when times are good - we tell ourselves we must keep it up no matter what. But when the hard times hit we often ditch them (“what is there to appreciate now?!”). Yet it's precisely the hard times, the bored times, the broken times, when experiencing just this moment becomes the real weightlifting for the soul -- when our brains build true equanimity (the ability to keep calm and measured in even the most difficult situations) and the real magic happens.

Forget the stream if it's not there, can you enter Zen from here?

Because it just feels like this...

Love, Jo x

"Can you hear the mountain stream?" parable from A New Earth, Eckhart Tolle.