Wide Open; Nothing Holy
“We have a choice, we can continue to give in to that impulse of wanting to get away, looking for comfort elsewhere, looking for solutions in other places, or . . . we can develop a close, intimate relationship with that which is right here. That’s what practice is about.”
– Ursula Jarand
This essay has been edited from its original form, published to the True Nature community on November 22, 2024.
After the U.S. election in the fall of 2024, I experienced a surge in requests for support from fellow meditators. The commonality in the messages I was receiving was that people felt deeply distressed and unsure, even while almost no one mentioned the U.S. election.
That in itself is noteworthy, don’t you think?
Many of us have faced challenges in meditation regarding the balance between everyday life and a so-called spiritual life, as though they are two different things. We may know intuitively that everyday life and spiritual life are one and the same, and yet it often doesn’t appear that way. We might tell ourselves that it’s easier to conceive of the mundane and the extraordinary being separate than it is to hold non-dual awareness, or maybe a part of us wants the spiritual to be separate as a kind of refuge from ordinary experiences like anxiety, confusion, loneliness, and doubt. Even while this view can be seductive, however, it becomes apparent as we continue to practice that escaping into transcendent states can be every bit as harmful as being consumed by ordinary thoughts, craving, and aversion.
Holding everything at once, without preference for the sublime over the mundane, is at least a lifetime’s endeavor. The reward and resolve that come with sincerely working in this direction, though, are unmistakable and unshakeable.
There is no better time than right now and under these conditions to hold form and formlessness simultaneously and with ease. Neither are there other times nor other conditions.
How widely can you open your arms?
How completely can you surrender the need to understand?
How willing are you to know what you’ve kept hidden from yourself?
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A particular monk named Bodhidharma is a major figure in Buddhist legend. When he traveled from India to China, he began a new lineage branch that eventually became Zen. Already renowned, the emperor called for an audience when Bodhidharma arrived in China.
Emperor Wu was eager to receive Bodhidharma because Wu considered himself a devout Buddhist. His progressive ideals and actions had been promoting Buddhism in China for some time before Bodhidharma’s arrival. A long list of Emperor Wu’s relevant accomplishments was read out upon Bodhidharma’s arrival at court, including reproduction of sacred texts, monasteries opened, and numbers of ordained subjects.
“What merit have I earned for these works on behalf of the dharma,” the Emperor asked the monk, certainly anticipating a predictable response full of honor and praise.
“No merit,” said Bodhidharma.
Shocked, but curious, the Emperor continued, “What, then, is the foundational principle of the teachings?”
“Wide open; nothing holy,” Bodhidharma responded.
Stunned almost to silence, the emperor posed one last question: “Who are you?”
Bodhidharma answered, “I don’t know,” and left.
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In addition to geopolitics, can you hold climate change, a baby niece or grandchild, a sunset that will never recur in quite the same way again, a fire in the next town over, a fire in your veins that feels at times it has nowhere to go?
The merit is in earnestness, the nature of things is outside of the conceivable, and who we are is ever changing.
Why, then, bother at all?
I can’t prove to you that your life matters, but I know in my bones that it does - and if your life matters, then every moment of it matters: every inclination, every breath.
Don’t take my word for it; come and see for yourself.
