Touching Buddha

When I open my eyes at the end of my daily meditation, the first thing I see is a statue of the meditating Buddha. He rests on my altar comfortably in perfect spiritual stillness. Somehow, he just breezes through our every morning practice. Internal and isolated, no ripples of thought ever disturb his eternal presence. When I see him there, I sometimes wrestle with the thought that can’t tell if he is inspiring me or mocking me.

For many, the Buddha is a symbol of spiritual perfection. Legend has it that he attained his heroic Enlightenment beneath a banyan tree in 500 BCE. Followers of Buddhism believe that lofty spiritual goal is within reach for all of us. I was a believer and I have reached to his example. I have had a seated meditation practice for 30 years. This is not to brag. You would think that after 30 years of doing anything with consistent daily repetition, one would get better at it.

Consciousness is like a toddler. During meditation, our minds, like two-year-olds, inevitably wriggle from our grasp and wander off. Once we’ve realized that our toddler mind is off exploring, we go get them and gently, bring them back to our meditation seats. We can hold them still for short periods, but our minds are far too curious, far too energized to explore the world. Meditation may look like the Buddha from the outside but on the inside, it is non-stop babysitting. 

I don’t know what I was expecting when I began my meditation journey. Hoping for a practice that would predictably and efficiently still my mind. An effort, like a workout at the gym but instead of making muscles, it would slowly and surely shift my focus from my inner insanity to feelings of peace and harmony. 

At first, I believed that if I meditated for long enough, I would click into a state of eternal presence forever more. After a few years, I gave up on that idea and just hoped that I would begin to notice some spiritual aliveness that was tangible. Observable. Noticeable.

Interestingly, the one real spiritual aliveness I remember during the weekly Catholic mass I attended as a kid was when we would reach out to other parishioners nearby. I eagerly anticipated the invitation to turn away from the altar and look into the eyes of strangers nearby and wish them peace. That moment of looking toward another person, however brief, while making physical contact was powerful. It made me afraid and excited from the vulnerability of it. The shared humanity and the intimacy it inspired.

Sensual moving meditation workshops are like play dates for toddler minds. Instead of trying to get them to sit still at home and behave unnaturally, we take them to a sensual playground. Let them get tuckered out playing together on the breathing swings. Sliding with touch, reaching out to each other creatively for the next handhold as they climb toward intimacy. Every sense fires in the present moment leading our wandering minds back to the present moment. Until our wandering consciousness poops out on exploring and becomes content to rest in stillness and presence close by our sides.

Spirituality does not need to be an opaque, isolating, elusive experience. I’m sure the Buddha themselves would love to get up and out, to play a little. To bring his beautiful enlightened presence into connection with others. Instead of elevating looking inward with solemn introspection, we can reach out with joy and love in our hands. Forging an effective, efficient, predictable pathway to a quiet mind by frolicking with other sentient beings. Discovering a pleasurable pathway to peace and finding it lies on the sensual playground and in one another.