The meditating mind:

like a petal floating downward 

and settling gently on the ground. 

Imagine a blossom detaching from its tree to begin a seemingly effortless descent to the ground below. But just as the blossom starts its journey, it finds itself caught in a breeze swirling among the trees. And so the blossom twirls upwards, dancing with newfound energy.

As the breeze dies down, the blossom once again finds itself settling. Then, caught again by yet another breeze, it starts another pirouette. This goes on for a while, but finally it comes to rest on the ground.

This is our mind when we chant the buddha-name. As we close our eyes and begin to settle our mind on “Amituofo,” wandering thoughts, breeze- or hurricane-like, carry it first one way and then another. As soon as our “Amituofo” again looks ready to settle, our mind is off again, seemingly beyond our control.

But just as the blossom eventually stills, with enough practice, our mind will likewise eventually become still. 

Have greed? Have anger?

Sometimes, proving that we’re right isn’t worth the price.

(Part 2)

It is so easy to get caught up in daily discussions that we often don’t consider their trifling nature. Does it really matter whether we turn right or left in a drive around the lake? And yet, in the midst of a disagreement, we lose sight of this. We feel compelled to set the other person straight. And fail to notice that in our attachment to our viewpoint, we’re upsetting the other person.

What’s the point of winning an argument at the cost of distressing someone we care about? Or anyone, for that matter.

What comfort will we find in being right when we contribute to another’s distress? Or in our insistence, we cause their fears to increase, perhaps in their worry over making yet another mistake.

All this so that we can be right?

The unhappiness we will cause is pointless. Often, it’s best not to tell others that they are wrong. And very often, we really don’t need to show the world that we are right.