I sat for an hour this morning. I didn’t get enough sleep so my mind was scattered. And that was fine. Each time I managed to realise that I was not focused felt like a small victory. My morning meditation was also a great opportunity to observe the quality of my thoughts. It reminded me how shallow, vain and silly person I really am. It shattered (yet again!) this persona of a Buddhist/meditator my mind subconsciously clings to. Good!
I thought about faith and Buddhism during the week. What requires more faith? To accept that life is ultimately unsatisfactory, that everything is relational and impermanent, that self is merely a construct of biology and upbringing, that thoughts are not real, that when you fill yourself will compassion and kindness you will suffer less, that when you pay attention you will see more, when you sit in silence you will hear more, when you abandon mental habits and intellectual laziness you will understand more?
Or does it require more faith to accept that there is an eternal soul, that at birth we are the same person as on the deathbed, that the world revolves around us and cares deeply about our opinions and aspirations, that happiness is contained in objects, that it is possible to acquire pleasure that will last forever, that things will work out in the end?