Stillness, Simplicity and Contentment

This talk was given at Guhyaloka Retreat Centre in Spain during my ordination retreat in 1988

Sex, is not the theme of my talk. Even though the title, Stillness, Simplicity and Contentment comes form the positive formulation of the third precept, which, as you all know, in its negative formulation is concerned with abstaining form sexual misconduct, I am not going to be talking about sex. I am not even going to talk directly about the third precept. I'm simply going to talk about the qualities of stillness, simplicity and contentment. I'm going to distinguish between them and also look at how we can develop these qualities and having looked at each in turn I will finish with an image, a unifying image.

To start with then, what is Stillness? Perhaps we can approach this best by looking at its opposite. The opposite of stillness is turbulence or turmoil. Here at Guhyaloka Retreat Centre we've experienced nature at her most turbulent and also at her stillest, sometimes in a very short space of time. The contrast between the two, between turbulence and stillness, has been made obvious to us. So perhaps we can easily relate this contrast to our minds. We can imagine more easily perhaps the mental state of stillness, when we consider it in relation to its opposite – turbulence and turmoil. A turbulent mind is an unquiet mind, a troubled mind, a mind in conflict.

Sometimes our minds may be turbulent because we are anxious, for instance, about whether we are ready for ordination, or our minds may be in turmoil because of an unresolved conflict with someone or again we may have done something we regret, something unskilful. Whatever the reason for it, often we find that our minds are unquiet; perhaps not blowing up a full storm of hail and gale but at least blustery.

Whatever is troubling us there is always one sure way of alleviating our difficulty, one sure way of gaining some degree of calm, one sure way of stilling the storm in our minds for a while. And that is, communication or if necessary, confession.

I'll just give a couple of examples from my own experience to illustrate this point, to illustrate how communication or confession can help us to bring back a certain stillness to our minds. Just before the retreat I was having some difficulties in my relationship with my girlfriend and I'd forgotten all about it when travelling through Spain to arrive here, but on the second or third day here, one of my morning meditations was completely taken over by thoughts about my relationship and my mind was tumbling round in circles trying to understand or resolve what was going on. That morning after breakfast I went for a walk with Alain and told him what had been going through my mind and as I talked it became clear to me what was going on, my mind was put at ease and I haven't had that distraction since. Sometimes just talking about something that's troubling us can take the burden off our minds.

A slightly different example from my own experience occurred when I was on solitary retreat at Osel Ling in the south of Spain last year. Before going on retreat I filled in a holiday form for the Department of Health and Social Security but I didn't tell them I was going to Spain. So I had done something which was not only illegal but also unethical. I had lied in order to continue receiving dole money while I was on retreat. About two weeks into the retreat I began to feel very guilty about this and it disrupted my meditation practice. So this time, not having anybody about to talk to I used the confession section of the Puja as an offloading point for my burden. I just brought it to mind in the context of the puja and then let go of it and once more I felt a lot better afterwards. A clear conscience is a pre-requisite for a calm mind. And the best way to have a clear conscience, apart from always acting, thinking and speaking skilfully, is to communicate and where necessary to confess.

Communication is essential in achieving calmness of mind. A calm mind is a still mind. Communication and letting go of what's troubling us can lead to stillness. And the significance of stillness can perhaps be best illuminated by quoting from Bhante Sangharakshita's essay on “Pauses and Empty Spaces” from “Crossing the Stream” : “As music is born of silence, and derives its significance therefrom; and as a painting is born of empty space, and derives its significance therefrom; so are our lives born of silence, of stillness, of quietude of spirit and derive their significance, their distinctive flavour and individual quality, therefrom.” (Crossing The Stream, p.95)

And that brings us to simplicity for here again I will quote from Bhante in “Crossing the Stream”. This time from his essay on “The Simple Life”: “The truly simple life glows with significance, for its simplicity is not the dead simplicity of a skeleton but the living simplicity of a flower or a great work of art.” (ibid, p.93) The living simplicity of a flower. What is this simplicity then? It is the simplicity of paring away whatever is not essential. It is the simplicity of doing one thing at a time. It is the simplicity born of mindfulness. The simplicity of the Japanese poet, Ryokan when he speaks of: 

“The bamboo grove in front of my hut:

Every day I see it a thousand times

Yet never tire of it.”

(One Robe, One Bowl, trans, Stevens, p.66)

Mindfulness is the key to simplicity. Through mindfulness we can achieve a simplicity of body, by attending to one thing at a time; a simplicity of mind, by being aware of the hubbub of thoughts and doing something about them; and a simplicity of speech by cutting down on the unnecessary gabble that sometimes passes for conversation.

The simplicity we achieve through greater mindfulness can lead us to an appreciation of beauty and consequently to greater creativity. Ryokan never tired of his bamboo grove although he saw it a thousand times a day, because he was mindful and because he was mindful he didn't see the same bamboo grove, but a beautiful, ever-changing process. He saw his bamboo grove creatively. Bamboos or flowers or works of art are not intrinsically beautiful. We confer beauty on them by regarding them with our eye of beauty, by seeing them imaginatively, by engaging creatively with them. And this we cannot do unless we are mindful, unless we appreciate the simple, unostentatious things of life. For so often the beautiful is very closely allied to the simple. We might even go so far as to say that simplicity and beauty are synonymous and both are one with the truth. If truth is beauty and beauty is truth, then likewise, simplicity is truth, and truth is simplicity.

This has been recognised by great poets and scientists. For instance, Heisenberg, the Atomic Physicist who developed the uncertainty principle, wrote in a letter to Einstein: “You may object that by speaking of simplicity and beauty I am introducing aesthetic criteria of truth, and I frankly admit that I am strongly attracted by the simplicity and beauty of the mathematical schemes which nature presents us. You must have felt this too, the almost frightening simplicity and wholeness of the relationship, which nature suddenly spreads out before us.” (Why Beauty is Truth. Ian Stewart)

Simplicity then is born of mindfulness and out of simplicity can come an appreciation of the world about us that enhances our lives and leads to great happiness. I will give the last word on simplicity to Ryokan who was an extraordinary exemplar of the simple life:

“My hut lies in the middle of the forest;

Every year the green ivy grows longer.

No news of the affairs of men,

Only the occasional song of a woodcutter.

The sun shines and I mend my robe;

When the moon comes out I read Buddhist poems.

I have nothing to report, my friends.

If you want to find the meaning, stop chasing after so many things.”

(One Robe, One Bowl, trans, Stevens, p.43)

Ryokan not only led a very simple life but also seems to have been remarkably contented. Here is another of his poems:

“After spending the day begging in town,

I now sit peacefully under a cliff in the evening cool.

Alone, with one robe and one bowl -

The life of a Zen monk is truly the best.”

(ibid, p.34)

This brings us to contentment. Contentment is based on acceptance. Acceptance of oneself as one is. Acceptance of others as they are. Acceptance of the environment as it is. Acceptance does not mean stultification or complacency. It is rather the basis of growth; the nurturing soil in which the seeds of growth are planted. As Vessantara pointed out recently, when the weather was a trifle unpleasant, there is no point in complaining and railing against the wind and the rain. It is far better to just accept the weather as it is and by so doing alter our relationship with it, perhaps even to such an extent that we can enjoy it and be contented with it.

Dissatisfaction comes of not wanting to experience what we are experiencing, for example, inclement weather; or wanting to continue to experience what we enjoy, wanting to hold on to it. As we've seen in the case of the weather, sometimes simply by accepting what we consider to be unpleasant, we can alter our experience of it radically. The same applies to ourselves. If we don't like aspects of our personality or behaviour, by first of all accepting them, we can come to change them, if they need changing. By accepting ourselves we are able to make a statement “this is me, this is what I'm like” and on the basis of that we can decide what to change and what to encourage. If we don't accept ourselves then we are saying “this is not me” and therefore we leave ourselves with nothing to change. No soil, no seed and no growth.

Wanting to hold on to what we enjoy or even desperately trying to repeat an enjoyable experience also leads to dissatisfaction. Sometimes when people get involved in the spiritual life they seek the answer to this difficulty in cutting out all enjoyment. They confuse enjoyment with attachment and try to banish pleasure, like St Patrick is reputed to have banished the snakes. But, of course, this is a case of cutting off your nose to spite your face. The answer is not to banish enjoyment. To quote Roberto Assagioli, the founder of the Psychosynthesis school of psychology: “The radical approach is to enjoy more. If you enjoy a fruit, enjoy all kinds of fruit. If you enjoy everything, you get attached to nothing, because you pass from one enjoyment to another. You pass from the enjoyment of a fruit to the enjoyment of a book, to the enjoyment of a starry sky. If you appreciate everything, you remain free. And if you feel the desire for something which is not opportune for several reasons or because you cannot get it, turn to enjoying something else. There is always something to enjoy.” (What We May Be, Piero Ferucci) 

Dissatisfaction, of course, is the opposite of contentment and contentment as I said earlier is based on acceptance. Our main practice for developing this acceptance is the Metta Bhavana meditation. Metta and contentment are intrinsically linked. Bhante Sangharakshita has said that Metta is the lifeblood of our Order. Well, if Metta is the lifeblood then contentment is the complexion. And when the lifeblood is clean and flowing freely the complexion is healthy and beautiful. A contented Sangha, is a Sangha full of Metta, and a Sangha full of Metta is a living vital Sangha.

Contentment is often thought of in the popular imagination as a state of passivity. The contented cat lying on a rug licking the cream from its lips. Or a man in an armchair, lying comatose after his Christmas dinner. These are popular images of Contentment. But Contentment is actually active. As we've seen earlier, dissatisfaction comes form merely reacting to ones experience. In order to be content we have to be creative. We have to respond creatively to our experience. Contentment is a very creative state. To be content is to be creative.

Now we've looked at Stillness, which we saw to consist of a clear conscience and a calm mind based on communication and confession, and we've looked at Simplicity, which grows out of mindfulness and gives an appreciation of beauty and lastly, we have seen that Contentment is based on acceptance, which is developed in the Metta Bhavana practice and it is essentially creative.

I have come to associate these three, Stillness, Simplicity and Contentment, with the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha respectively. The figure of the Buddha has come to represent the qualities of calmness, tranquillity or stillness for people all over the world, who know little or nothing about Buddhism. And of course the Dharma is simplicity itself. As Bodhidharma said to the Chinese emperor, ““cease to do evil, learn to do good, purify the heart” that is the teaching of the Buddha.” So simple. And we've already seen how the Sangha is imbued with contentment.

Here in this valley where we've all come to strengthen our Going for Refuge to the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha, there is a beautiful spring with water gushing from three spouts, tumbling joyously into a stream. When I reflected on this, I couldn't help associating these three clear, cool streams of water with the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. The Buddha of stillness, the Dharma in its simplicity and the contented Sangha, bursting forth from the rocks of Samsara to form a beautiful clean flowing stream. And it is into this stream we dive, into this stream we plunge, when we go for refuge. And if we continue to follow this stream, through rocks and gorse, over frightening falls, through sylvan woods and by lovely pastures, we will eventually come to the greater freedom, of the strong flowing river of the Aryasangha, where the current will carry us inexorably towards the deep and mighty ocean. The great ocean of Enlightenment, of Buddhahood. The unfathomable ocean of Nirvana.