Last week we explored some of the mental patterns that shape the way we experience our lives. We looked at how easily we can become caught in wanting things to be different from the way they are, and how practice can help us become aware of these patterns.
Tonight I would like to continue from there and explore the idea of guarding the mind.
The expression might sound as if we need to protect the mind from something, or perhaps control what enters it. But this is not what I mean. Guarding the mind is much closer to paying attention to what is happening within it: thoughts, emotions, reactions, desires and all the other movements that appear throughout the day.
Usually we become involved in these movements very quickly. A thought appears and we follow it. An emotion arises and we become absorbed in it. Something happens and almost immediately there is a reaction: I like this, I don’t like this, I want this, I want this to stop.
Often we do not even notice the process. By the time we become aware of what is happening, we are already somewhere inside the story.
Practice gives us an opportunity to observe this more closely. When I say study the mind, what I really mean is observe it. We do not necessarily need to solve what we find or discover why every thought or emotion has appeared. Sometimes it is enough simply to see clearly what is happening.
A thought arises. Can I notice it as a thought? An emotion appears. Can I feel it without immediately becoming completely absorbed in it? Can I notice a familiar reaction beginning before automatically following it?
This does not mean suppressing thoughts or trying to create a permanently peaceful mind. Thoughts will continue to arise. Emotions will continue to arise. Some will be pleasant, some unpleasant, some useful and some probably complete nonsense.
Guarding the mind is not standing at the door deciding which thoughts are allowed inside. It is remaining aware of what is happening without immediately handing everything the keys to the house.
The more we observe, the more familiar some of our patterns become. We may begin to recognise the same reactions appearing again and again. Something happens, irritation arises, a familiar story begins, and suddenly we are travelling along a road we have travelled many times before.
Awareness creates a little space. Perhaps we still follow the reaction. Perhaps we don’t. The important thing is that, for a moment, we can see it.
This is also where the question of identification becomes interesting. We often speak about our thoughts and emotions as if they define us completely: I am angry. I am anxious. I am happy. I am disappointed. But in practice we can observe these states arising, changing and eventually disappearing.
What happens if, instead of immediately asking what they say about us, we simply watch them?
This is something we can explore directly in meditation. During zazen, thoughts appear constantly. We do not need to chase them away and we do not need to follow every one of them. We sit, notice what appears, and return to what is happening here.
The same is true during kinhin. We walk and pay attention to walking. During chanting, we chant. We notice the body, the breath, the sound and the people around us. Again and again, attention returns to what is actually happening.
None of this needs to remain inside the meditation hall. The same observation can continue while we are working, eating, speaking to someone, driving, walking or waiting in a queue. The circumstances change, but the possibility of noticing remains.
What is the mind doing now?
What has just arisen?
Am I seeing what is happening, or have I already disappeared into the story?
Perhaps guarding the mind is not about keeping anything out.
Perhaps it is simply about being here when something comes in.
