Nari Kiru
One of the useful things about having a practice is that it gives us an opportunity to observe what is happening in our minds. We begin to notice thoughts, reactions, habits and emotions that might otherwise pass unnoticed. We may not necessarily control them, but perhaps we can become more familiar with the way they arise and influence what we do.
This observation does not have to be limited to sitting meditation. Everyday life gives us plenty of opportunities to practise. We can observe what happens while doing housework, driving to work, walking in nature, reading a book or listening to somebody speaking.
Quite often, the activity is happening in one place while our attention is somewhere else. We are reading a book while thinking about tomorrow. We are listening to somebody while preparing what we are going to say next. We are driving while replaying a conversation from earlier in the day. We are walking through a beautiful place while thinking about something that happened at work.
There is nothing unusual about this. It is simply something we can begin to notice.
A Japanese expression that I find useful here is Nari Kiru. It can be translated in different ways, but one meaning is “becoming cut off.” For me, it points towards giving ourselves completely to what we are doing rather than continually being pulled somewhere else.
When walking, just walk. When listening, just listen. When reading, just read. When chopping vegetables, chop vegetables.
Of course, thoughts will still appear. Nari Kiru does not mean forcing the mind to become silent or trying to achieve some perfect state of concentration. If I am walking and suddenly notice that I have spent the last five minutes thinking about tomorrow, I do not need to treat that as a failure. I can simply notice it and return to walking.
Perhaps an interesting question is: what is the distance between me and what I am doing?
Sometimes the distance seems enormous. The body is washing the dishes while the mind is already at tomorrow’s meeting. At other times there may simply be the activity itself: the water, the plate, the movement of the hands.
We do not need to force or squeeze something special out of what we are doing. Washing a plate does not need to become a profound spiritual experience. Walking does not need to feel different from walking. The experiment is simply to see what happens when we give ourselves to the activity that is already here.
And there are endless opportunities to experiment.
Walking, running, chatting, chopping vegetables, painting, thinking, sweeping the floor, driving, typing an email.
Whatever we happen to be doing.
When walking, walk.
When listening, listen.
When eating, eat.
And when the mind goes somewhere else, notice that too.
Then return.
Have fun experimenting with Nari Kiru!
