prog rock

earlier today, my neighbour decided on a hour of partying to 70’s revival music with their back doors open wide at the exact time I’d available to sit.

It was interesting to watch the mind’s reaction to this samādhic inconvenience, to see the difference in my ability to concentrate, to see how this distraction differed from the more home grown variety…

it’s not possible to do a statistical analysis, but I suspect there wasn’t much more distraction present than usual in my mind. What was present, however, was an element of  dosa—aimed at partying oldsters, and maybe a thirst for retreat, a taṇhā for seclusion and quiet.

the latter is, in a sense, a positive defilement, being a kilesa that could lead to an abandonment of the kilesa.

the former made me remember my feelings in similar circumstances when I was much younger—remember battling with a raging fire of loathing for the students playing the same ‘Frankie goes to hollwood’ track over and over well into the small hours while I sat battling my demons.

‘battling’—that’s not merely a stylistic device. The very battling against them gave them more fire, made them last much longer. Had that young meditator been able to practice what he knew he should do: observe but don’t act, don’t create kamma whether of body, speech, or mind, he would have suffered less.

suffered less—not been freed completely. It would always have been unpleasant, a combination of sleep deprivation and noise pollution of the sort used to soften up prisoners at Abu Graib, but it needn’t have been so internally painful.

what was needed was stronger sati , and a more developed mettāpractice. Easy words to write, hard practices.

sometimes it can be a real dhutangajust to live with other people’s quirks and lack of consideration without reacting in actions based on negative emotions.

but one shouldn’t forget to be realistic, as the Buddha himself advices, seek out a quiet place at the foot of a tree, an empty room. And hope the neighbours are out.