I was listening to a podcast of a talk given by a Buddhist monk a few weeks ago. The monk, Gil Fronsdale, lives in California and gives these talks, called Dharma Talks, every Sunday. (You can find his weekly talks over at Zencast, if you’re interested.) I’m not sure anymore which talk it was I was listening to, but there was a story Gil told that caught my attention. The story was about a man who decided to become a monk. Before leaving for the monastery he spoke to his spiritual teacher for advice. The teacher was pleased to see that his pupil was taking this step to deepen his practice and he gave him the best advice he could give:
“Pass through all doors completely.”
When I heard this, I immediately stopped walking, turned my iPod off, and I really thought about what it means to go through all doors completely. The rest of the story isn’t important. I’d like to focus just on these words because I think they offer truly wise advice.
Namwen and I have been talking about decisions lately. Mostly about making them and the difficulties that entails. My difficulty has never been in making decisions. I’ve always felt that they sort of get made for me, I go where I need to go. I’ve been truly blessed to have this clarity. My difficulty came in accepting the outcome of the decision. I'm specifically talking about my decision to come to the Netherlands. I hadn’t realized this until I heard the Zen master’s advice to his pupil.
I didn’t exactly choose to come to the Netherlands, though of course it was my decision to come here. Either way, until very recently I had not come through that door completely. I had one foot outside, waiting. I knew this was where I had to be, where I was supposed to be, where I needed to be. But still I hesitated to fully make the transition; I hesitated to step away from the door. I had thought these days of hesitancy were behind me and I was surprised to see this in myself again. I hadn’t been this uncertain of change since high school!
“Pass through all doors completely.”
Clarity. I now saw clearly that I was hesitating, and I have now truly passed through the doorway of the decision I made that brought me here. I’m no longer waiting for…whatever it was I was waiting for. I never had a name for it. I thought at first that it was a fear of change, and I was disappointed in myself. What happened to the brave girl who longed for everything new? Now, I realize it wasn’t a fear of change at all, it was an addiction to change. I got a change, and I didn’t like it immediately (this was not like going to Berlin, which from the start felt like going home) so I wanted another change. So I stood in the doorway, waiting to see where I could go next, searching the long hall of doorways for another opening. Now I’ve let go of the door knob and fully entered the room.
Look! A banquet! A feast I couldn’t see because I was staring too hard at the closed doors behind me.
I was listening to a podcast of a talk given by a Buddhist monk a few weeks ago. The monk, Gil Fronsdale, lives in 
2 comments:
Seems so true. I cannot think of an example of happiness in my life or that of others, that hasn't to do with the feeling of "being completely in it".
What do you do though, when you won't allow yourself to step through a door completely for the very reasonable fear of losing that of what you hope will stay with you forever?
The way I see it, if it's going to be there forever, you can step through as many doors as you want to or have to and it'll come right through with you (or be waiting when you come back out!)
What is eternal is already a part of you. Everything else falls away and we must let it go. I've found quite a bit of sorrow in this, but untold amounts of happiness too.
Just my thoughts. :-)
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