The other day I was doing zazen on the beach, when I felt something brush against my leg. I felt the first ripple of alarm in the split second before I opened my eyes, and simultaneously heard the whisper that said, "It's okay. Stay."
When I looked down, I saw a small ghost crab edging along my bare shin. My legs, folded one in front of the other, rested on a thin Turkish towel, and for some reason, in all that wide beach, the crab chose the one path that would bring us close, pincer to skin, with a touch so soft, that with my closed eyes I could've mistaken it for a blade of grass rippling in the breeze.
Gently the crab walked sideways along the length of my leg, maintaining contact the whole time, his horned eyestalks pointed at me. He then rounded the corner of my knee, climbed over some crawling vines, and stopping to take one last look, burrowed into the sand, leaving no trace that he'd ever been there.
Pema Chödrön tells the story of a friend who, besieged by the pain of trauma, could barely stand to be in her body, her mind. To help her, Chödrön stayed up all night during a meditation retreat, holding her hand and softly encouraging her, "Stay. Stay." The only way out of pain, we know, is through it.
But I think of that instant, the moment of choice, when the choice is to stay or avoid, to stay or deflect, or distract or go numb. The flicker of the mind that makes escape look like relief, that makes oblivion seem like comfort. Staying is hard, but leaving ourselves is much harder.
"Why do I just keep waiting for fear?" the Buddha once asked himself (or pain or sadness or discomfort). "What if I subdued the fear and terror that come to me in whatever state I'm in?"
To do this, he essentially stayed. If he was walking when the fear came, he kept walking. If he was standing, he remained standing. If he was sitting, he stayed sitting until the fear subsided.
Stay may be the most courageous thing any of us will ever do in a moment of reckoning. Stay awake. Stay true. Stay close. Stay, not knowing what you'll face but trusting that you're able. Stay, knowing that this is the way to be free.
* Photo by Gabriel Cattaruzzi
Zazen • Zen Meditation
Join us for one of our weekly sits, which include private teaching and, on Wednesdays, a dharma talk or study. Everyone is welcome. If you're new to meditation, consider joining on a Saturday to receive beginning instruction.
For questions about our programs, please email me.
Daily Zazen. Monday - Friday, 5:30 – 7:30 am EDT
Daily Zazen Streak. Join a group that sits informally every day. You can come for 10 minutes or an hour. Details in the linked document.
Wednesday Evening Zazen and Talk. Wednesday, 7 – 9 pm EDT
This week I'll offer a dharma talk. Check the website, as soon we'll have all the dates for the specific Wednesday events up there (the options are dharma talk, study, and talk with a guest teacher).
Saturday Morning Zazen and Private Teaching. Saturday, 10 am – 11:10 am EDT
Recommended for beginners.
Zazen, private teaching, and beginning instruction for those attending for the first time. Two periods of zazen with a short break in the middle.
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