Saṃvega

We don’t have to be in our 80s or 90s to feel saṃvega, the urgency to practise.

Life is uncertain. There is no way to predict or control how many years we have left to purify ourselves. So we can’t afford to sit back casually and let the practice unfold as it will. Once we realize the truth of our own mortality, we act on that natural longing to be free from the cycle of birth and death.

While meditating in Burma as a young nun, with my first insight into the transitory nature of life, I was overcome with fervour to end desire and delusion once and for all – and I wanted it instantly.

Rushing to see my teacher, in my excitement I bowed as respectfully as I could and announced, “Sayādaw, I want to teach Dhamma.” He chuckled and asked what I had experienced. When I explained, he gave a brief discourse on the six temperaments of those who practise. “You’re the angry type,” he declared. “No, I am not!” I protested.

Bursting with saṃvega to free my heart, I could hardly contain myself. There was so much fire there – the anger of lifetimes. But this encounter humbled me – coming before the master and receiving his clear reflection. “You’re still caught in it: greed, hatred, and delusion. Go back to your practice.”

We cannot change just by wishing our untrained habits away. Nor can we wish ourselves into enlightenment. We need to sustain an unshakeable commitment and work hard, with simplicity and devotion, adeptly using the tools we have honed.

Diligence–not just in meditating but in mindful and wise reflection in daily life–is generosity to ourselves. So when we are at work, shopping, or scrubbing a pot, we ask, “Where is the mind? Who’s scrubbing? What am I thinking?”

Standing in a room, feel the pressure of your feet on the floor. Sitting in a temple, feel the energy in the body, the contact with the cushion, the space above your head. Come back to each moment. Throughout the day, pay attention to familiar touch points – putting on shoes, walking though a door, turning on a light.

Because at each point we choose, for that moment we are aware, present, awake.

This reflection by Ayyā Medhānandī Bhikkhunī is from the book Gone Forth, Going Beyond {scroll down to Books}, (pdf) pp. 47-48.