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Waking up is hard. Staying awake is even harder. This isn’t because there’s something intrinsically difficult about seeing ourselves clearly. It’s not because we’re not capable of freeing our mind from its fetters, all of which take the form of self preoccupation. It’s simply because the fetters are heavy and hard to put down. They’re the bonds that keep us tied down to the cycle of suffering—the endless wheel of wanting and chasing and grabbing and losing that keeps us constantly running and constantly dissatisfied. In the sutras, these fetters are identified as hindrances to the spiritual path, particularly to the practice of meditation and the cultivation of insight.
Nivarana fall into five categories. Sensual desire is the first, then ill will, sloth and torpor, restlessness and worry, and doubt. Of these, doubt (vicikicchā) is perhaps the most pernicious because it can cause us to step off the path altogether. Sometimes called “hindering” or “skeptical” doubt, vicikiccha is not the same as the great doubt that brings us to practice—as in the three pillars or essentials of Zen practice made up of great faith, great doubt, and great determination. While great doubt questions the inevitability of suffering, hindering doubt questions our capacity to address it. It manifests as doubt in the dharma, in our teachers, and in our practice. Which is not the same as healthy questioning, the essence of the spiritual path. There’s nothing that kills insight quicker than the thought, “Oh, I know that.” When we don’t assume we know, we’re opening the way for discerning wisdom, which is never blind and never static, the opposite of hindering or skeptical doubt, which in its worst form, makes us doubt ourselves and our capacity.
In this form, Vicikiccha is Mara—the destroyer—whispering in our ear, “Who do you think you are to become enlightened? You, with your laziness and your lack of discipline? You, with your worry and confusion? Come on!” It’s that nagging feeling that has us convinced that we alone, out of all human beings who’ve ever lived, is incapable of seeing our true nature. (I recently likened this to a wave looking around at the ocean and thinking, she alone of all the waves, isn’t made of water.)
Vicikiccha can also appear as resistance, insecurity, hesitancy, or obsessive thinking. In fact, the easiest way to recognize hindering doubt is to pinpoint the thoughts that feed it. Doubt is always a story, so the first step to work with it is to recognize it for what it is. Maybe we wonder what will happen to us if we do become enlightened. Will life become joyless and restrictive? Will our friends like us? Will we like ourselves? Maybe we wonder why practice needs to be so hard—surely it doesn’t have to be. Maybe we should go easy on ourselves. Maybe we shouldn’t aim so high. Maybe we should postpone serious practice until we’re out of school, or retired, or single, or in general have more time. But spiritual practice is like any other activity worth doing. It requires effort and attention. How much and what kind is up to each one of us to decide based on our own capacity, circumstances, and inclination. There are no rules for waking up—only aspiration, commitment, and determination. Oh, and patience for those times when we’re flagging in the other three.
Discipline, confidence, and faith are all important antidotes for meeting our doubt. Discipline encourages us to practice just because, independently of how we’re feeling in the moment. This was one of the simplest and most valuable lessons I learned living at the monastery. I loved doing zazen early in the morning but hated doing it at night. I woke up at 3:30 am, and my day was pretty much non-stop until nine, so by the time evening zazen rolled around, my body was ready to shut down. But as a resident I’d committed to being present for all parts of the schedule, which meant doing evening zazen whether I liked it or not. In an effort to stay awake, I tried skipping dinner. I tried drinking green tea. I tried eating a light supper and doing vigorous yoga afterward. Nothing worked. Until one day I decided to stop struggling and stop trying and just sit there as quietly as I could. Then I was fine. I was more than fine, for I realized that how I felt about sitting at night had no bearing on my ability to do it. I didn’t have to like it to do it. I could do it just because. And if that was true of zazen, it was true of everything else I struggled with but ultimately wanted to do.
Confidence reminds us that we have everything we need to wake up; that we’re not so unique to be the only ones excluded from liberation. We are waves, special in our particularity, and we’re also the ocean, part of a vast, integral whole. Faith points us back to the Three Treasures of Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. It shows us that if we can let go of our preoccupation for a little while, if we can turn our mind toward what is true and dependable, then hindering doubt has no place to take hold in our minds. But if and when it does, we don’t have to be doubt’s prisoner. We can practice with it, beginning by doubting our doubt.
We doubt so many things: the path, the world, our leaders, our peers, yet we don’t doubt our doubt. Why? Spiritual practice relies on questioning that doesn’t take for granted the familiar nor react against the unknown. We can let our doubt extend to vicikiccha, looking closely at the story it whispers so insidiously in our ear. Then, as the late Thich Nhat Hanh would say, we can ask ourselves, “Am I sure?”
Finally, the most effective antidote for our doubt is to set an aspiration and periodically remind ourselves of it. We can ask why it is that we take time to practice meditation or study the dharma, and carefully clarify and sharpen our intention. Based on that intention we can then formulate a short, simple phrase that encapsulates our aspiration and repeat it to ourselves when we begin to feel lost.
The Buddha said that hindering doubt is like a person wandering through a desert with no landmark in sight. Setting an aspiration is reminding ourselves that we’re the landmark, that with step after confident step, we’re moving closer to the place we’ve been searching for yet have never left: ourselves.
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Meditation Retreat | Private Teaching
Half-Day Sit (Saturday)
May 11
8 AM – 12 PM EDT
Zazen is a place of refuge, of rest, and of acceptance of ourselves as we are. Share a full morning of zazen with sangha this month (and remember you’ll have an opportunity for private teaching with Zuisei). Join us for a bit of silence and to support Teis Hjelm Davidsen, who’s becoming a formal student in the Ocean Mind Sangha. We hope to see you there.
More ways to connect:
“I loved doing zazen early in the morning but hated doing it at night. I woke up at 3:30 am, and my day was pretty much non-stop until nine, so by the time evening zazen rolled around, my body was ready to shut down. […] Until one day I decided to stop struggling and stop trying and just sit there as quietly as I could. Then I was fine.”
Thank you for the post, especially this part. I, too, love sitting first thing in the morning. By evening, though, zazen is the last thing I want to do. I’m still struggling with it. Tonight, I’ll not struggle and just sit, open to whatever happens.