“Man who catch fly with chopstick accomplish anything.”
— Mr. Miyagi, The Karate Kid
Recently, after months of reading, meditating, and re-reading, I came to, as I would have articulated it, “realize” something. Strangely, it didn’t feel all that great. I “realized” that I’d arrived at a point where I had grasped, in a shallow fashion, the mechanics of a concept, but somehow, not the soul of it. For months, I’d been wondering just why a Buddhist practitioner would seek “extinction,” on the one hand, or want to be a Bodhisattva, on the other.
For those not quite familiar with the terms ‘extinction’ and ‘Bodhisattva,’ here are two definitions, which shall suffice, but upon which no one should base their own learning. ‘Extinction,’ also known as “nirvana without residue,” refers to “dying,” once and for all, without returning to the chain of suffering experienced in sequential, potentially never-ending lifetimes (samsara). ‘Bodhisattva’ refers to an individual who has, through meditation, arrived at a state in which they can choose not only to be ‘reborn,’ but the exact circumstances of that rebirth, so that they may fulfill their vow to not enter ‘nirvana without extinction’ until every last human being has been freed from the sufferings of samsara. So, there I was, wondering at the same time, why anyone would want to die, once and for all, as well as why anyone would want to stick around, forever, when they actually could die, once and for all, and not have to deal with all this crap anymore. I mean, haven’t we all had days when we thought, “Get me outta’ here!” Well, if you haven’t, I have. But then I’d remember that death is just a beginning — the beginning to one’s next life. Here’s a link to the post where I discuss the “realization” that helped me to understand that I am far from “realized.”
As karma would have it, I happened upon a discussion in the book, Momentary Buddhahood, Mindfulness and the Vajrayana Path, by Anyen Rinpoche. An acquaintance of mine, who is a yogi, told me that he doesn’t like Tibetan Buddhism, doesn’t like “the guy,” and would never read one of his books. I add this simply to emphasize that there are always, at least, two million sides to every story, as well as to point out that others’ recommendations, including my own, can mean everything or nothing. Unlike the yogi, I, for one, like “the guy.” This is one of the first books on mindfulness that I’ve read and not felt like a total idiot. Anyen Rinpoche’s words resonated with me, deeply. And here’s an excerpt, from Anyen Rinpoche’s book, in a section titled Abide in the Experience of “No Self.” Please note how I use ellipses in this excerpt: three dots indicates the omission of words within a sentence; four dots indicates the omission of one or more sentences in between one sentence and another. I mention this for both purposes of clarity and respect for copyright:
“…a cursory analysis shows that the self is simply a concept….While this is somewhat helpful for developing a Buddhist foundation, ultimately, it will not take our practice to the next level….Merely knowing is not the same as experiencing and realizing.”
Rinpoche, A. (2009) Momentary buddhahood: Mindfulness and the Vajrayana path. Somerville, MA: Wisdom Publications.
This quotation from Anyen Rinpoche’s book stayed with me. I’ve read and reread it because short of ‘realization,’ I can, at least, try for internalization. But something happened, this morning, that made it even more “real” for me. Last night, I went to bed rather unhappily because of being repeatedly dive-bombed by a huge fly. Citing “reverence for life,” I did not try to swat it, and hoped that by morning, it would either go somewhere else, or die. No such luck. As I sat to begin my morning meditation, it repeatedly bounced off my head, literally got in my face, and even had the nerve to ‘buzz’ in an extremely loud, particularly distracting manner (I wonder if the Buddha had those sticky fly strips?). Finally, I grabbed a copy of a magazine I didn’t particularly like and “went” for it. Yep! You got it! I might not have been mindful, but I sho’ nuff minded! That was two hours ago, and I still didn’t manage to catch it. And that’s when I remembered a scene from The Karate Kid (1984). In this particular scene, Mr. Miyagi is sitting at his dinner table, trying to catch a fly with a pair of chopsticks. Daniel (Karate Kid) walks in, views this with some amusement, and asks if it wouldn’t be easier to use a fly swatter. Then, he asks if he can try. Mr. Miyagi smirks, and assents. After a couple tries, Daniel catches the pesky fly with his own pair of chopsticks, and the nonplussed Mr. Miyagi throws down his own chopsticks, leaves the table, and says, “You, beginner luck!” They then go outside and Daniel receives his first lesson in fence painting…
So, catching the fly is just the beginning. And I’m Daniel (if all goes well).
Here’s a link to that scene from The Karate Kid.