Never a Problem

The Buddha taught that there’s never a problem with being exactly where I am, and occasionally the truth of that statement comes home to me quite clearly. First of all, where I am is the only possible place I could be, at least at this precise moment. Thinking of the here and now as a “problem” suggests that I think there’s a better place somewhere, a place and time where I would be happier, but there’s actually no other place, at least at this moment, than exactly where I am. Since this is true, the idea of a problem needing to be solved, a better situation needing to be found, becomes meaningless. There is never any other place and time than right here and now, and therefore, as a matter of plain fact, there is never any real problem. What's also interesting is that all that exists in any present moment is thought (or consciousness, or awareness). There seems to be lots of material “things” in the present moment, but these – if I analyze them carefully – exist only in thought, or consciousness. If this is true, and if the present moment is the only place I can ever be, then it follows that the only real power in life is thought in the present moment. What’s especially fun to realize is that since this thought, this power, is immaterial, it has no boundaries whatsoever! There’s absolutely no limit to what can be thought and how far thoughts can extend. A thought about being brave or compassionate is never born, like a material entity, and never ends, but extends out to infinity. Its power is unlimited. Therefore, how could there be a real problem in any present moment, when infinite power is always there?  A  problem arises only when I feel somehow powerless, but how can I feel powerless when any present moment contains never-ending power of incalculable force and variety? In fact, the present, right where I am, is always the opposite of a problem – always a moment when everything is precisely as it should be and must be, and when power is expanding out beyond the farthest horizons. What this is all about is going from a tiny picture to an amazingly big picture. When I’m thinking that the present moment is a problem, I’m seeing the smallest possible picture – the picture of little, isolated, vulnerable “me” surrounded by other isolated and threatening entities. It’s a nightmare picture, one that naturally leads to a thoroughly problem-filled life. However, when I change the picture to the biggest and truest of all – the one that shows both the endless reaches of space and the vast inner distances of limitless thought – I see clearly that there can never be a genuine problem in a universe of such boundlessness. There are changes, yes, and differences, and ups and downs, and happiness and sadness, and success and failure – but these are like breezes blowing in the never-ending wind of the universe. They’re not problems, just the way things are at this particular, inescapable, perfect, problem-free moment.

The Universe Will Still Be Harmonious and Happy

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A wonderful thought came today: when something termed a “disaster” happens to me, including the disaster called death, the universe will continue in its harmonious and happy way. So often I get entirely caught up in “me-ness”, seeing myself as somehow the center of the universe, and feeling that if something “bad” happens to me, the universe itself will suffer. It’s strange to me that I somehow developed the idea that a universe with no beginning and no end – a universe consisting of an endless number of astonishing occurrences moment by moment forever – would somehow go haywire if I was struck by cancer or lost my savings or died on a dark street. It bespeaks a weird view of the world, one that completely misses the immensity and miraculous complexity of all things. Imagine an ocean with no shore, no bottom, and no surface, and then imagine, say, a one-inch portion of a current in that ocean. Would the infinite ocean be unfavorably affected if that portion disappeared into another portion? We know instantly that the answer is no, and the same answer must be given to the question of whether the relatively wee phenomenon called Hamilton Salsich suffering a stroke would cause the everlasting universe to suffer. When something called “unfortunate” happens to me – and it certainly will, at some point – I and my family and friends can take comfort in the fact that the myriad miracles of the universe will continue unfolding and exploding everywhere and for all time. My disaster will be no more disastrous than a breeze bending around a tree and blending into a different breeze.

In Good Hands

I have always spent a good part of my time concerned about my safety and security, but actually the infinite universe has me in its very good hands. The plain truth is that I am not a solitary and separate person who needs protection, but an essential and sheltered part of a single unending force (sometimes called the universe, sometimes God) that is always doing what is just right for itself. If I close my eyes, I can see myself as a breeze in a wind that never started and will never stop, or a wave in an ocean without end. How can this breeze or this wave possibly be harmed? They can change, certainly – everything in this universe is fluid and ever changing – but harm or destruction is literally not possible. The grand universe takes good care of uncountable stars and rivers and dust particles and hearts and blood streams, forever and ever, and it will take good care of me. 

Car Alarms and Surf

This morning, as I'm typing this, someone's car alarm is sounding down the street, which might be thought of as quite aggravating. However, it could also be thought of as simply some morning sounds -- even some interesting morning sounds. It’s strange, when I think about it, that I’m so accustomed to judging sounds: bad, good, annoying, pleasing, happy, sad. When I’m sitting at the shore listening to the sounds of the surf, I automatically categorize them as pleasant sounds, but I instinctively (and almost unconsciously) place the sounds of a car alarm in the “annoying” category. You might call me old Judge Salsich, the distributor of verdicts about the relative quality of sounds. But what if I took off my judicial robes? What if I simply accepted each sound as just what it is – a phenomenon in a universe of phenomena? Would it be possible, when listening to the car alarm, to say, “That’s a very interesting sound – just as interesting as the sound of the surf”? An odd but cheerful picture comes to mind: I’m standing on the sidewalk, looking down the street at the car whose alarm is sounding, and I’m smiling contentedly. Someone says, “Why are you smiling, Ham?” and I reply, “Oh, I just find those alarm sounds quite fascinating.” It could happen, but only if I give up judging sounds and just accept them for what they are – attention-grabbing gifts given by the universe.