On Sitting
By Toni Packer
When we sit, we sit on a mat on the floor, kneeling or with legs crossed, or on a chair, quietly and motionlessly, for short or long periods of time, straightening the back, eyes half closed. Why do we this? Anything that can be said or explained about it isn't sufficient—one has to sit oneself, patiently, free of pressure or ambition, free of expectations, and find out for oneself.
This sitting may make it possible for a human being to come in touch with an inner stability which is the free and effortless gathering and flowing of energy. lt allows being in touch with the ever changing conditions of each moment, neither condemning nor acquiescing in the happening of each instant.
Sitting quietly, attending to the breathing, or just attending, may bring awareness of the ceaseless functioning of the human body-mind: the constant stream of thoughts, images, sensations, feelings, desires, fears, hopes, reactions, judgments, emotions, pains and pleasure.
Sitting quietly, questioning, listening, looking, attending without already knowing, may bring one directly face to face with the entire human condition—the age-old conditioning of the human-body-mind, as it manifests in oneself.
Can one sit quietly in the very midst of it with a mind that is choicelessly aware of all habitual reactions? Sitting quietly, questioning and attending profoundly, can the restless, agitated, murky pool of consciousness calm down and clarify itself?
One does not know the answer to these questions.
One cannot assume or believe anything.
There are no guarantees.
But one can sit down and begin to attend, not where one would like to be ideally, but where one actually is—sitting silently, motionlessly, listening and looking inwardly with a mind that ¡s open, vulnerable, not-knowing, and eager to discover directly, completely, beyond all thoughts, words and images.
Getting up, doing one's daily work, relating to people around one, or taking a walk through the woods or the streets, can there be wakefulness, alertness, sensitivity and care? This can only happen when one isn't utterly preoccupied and blinded by all the fixed images, beliefs and opinions accumulated about oneself and the world.
Do we see the squirrel running up the tree, stopping on a branch to look down at us, motionlessly still, with wide open eyes? Do we hear the birds calling, the leaves rustling, the children shouting to each other across the street, the clatter of garbage cans? Do we really see and hear clearly, or are we thinking and reacting to words, images and ideas? Maybe we are oblivious to what goes on around us because we are completely wrapped up in our own world. Do we sometimes look at the sky, see the clouds of different light and shade, and the trees swaying in the breeze?
Do we see the people, their faces and movements as they walk by in the street? Can we see and hear the person right next to us without any prejudice? Do we see a weed spreading its leaves and flowers through a crack in the pavement?
This sitting may make it possible for a human being to come in touch with an inner stability which is the free and effortless gathering and flowing of energy. lt allows being in touch with the ever changing conditions of each moment, neither condemning nor acquiescing in the happening of each instant.
Sitting quietly, attending to the breathing, or just attending, may bring awareness of the ceaseless functioning of the human body-mind: the constant stream of thoughts, images, sensations, feelings, desires, fears, hopes, reactions, judgments, emotions, pains and pleasure.
Sitting quietly, questioning, listening, looking, attending without already knowing, may bring one directly face to face with the entire human condition—the age-old conditioning of the human-body-mind, as it manifests in oneself.
Can one sit quietly in the very midst of it with a mind that is choicelessly aware of all habitual reactions? Sitting quietly, questioning and attending profoundly, can the restless, agitated, murky pool of consciousness calm down and clarify itself?
One does not know the answer to these questions.
One cannot assume or believe anything.
There are no guarantees.
But one can sit down and begin to attend, not where one would like to be ideally, but where one actually is—sitting silently, motionlessly, listening and looking inwardly with a mind that ¡s open, vulnerable, not-knowing, and eager to discover directly, completely, beyond all thoughts, words and images.
Getting up, doing one's daily work, relating to people around one, or taking a walk through the woods or the streets, can there be wakefulness, alertness, sensitivity and care? This can only happen when one isn't utterly preoccupied and blinded by all the fixed images, beliefs and opinions accumulated about oneself and the world.
Do we see the squirrel running up the tree, stopping on a branch to look down at us, motionlessly still, with wide open eyes? Do we hear the birds calling, the leaves rustling, the children shouting to each other across the street, the clatter of garbage cans? Do we really see and hear clearly, or are we thinking and reacting to words, images and ideas? Maybe we are oblivious to what goes on around us because we are completely wrapped up in our own world. Do we sometimes look at the sky, see the clouds of different light and shade, and the trees swaying in the breeze?
Do we see the people, their faces and movements as they walk by in the street? Can we see and hear the person right next to us without any prejudice? Do we see a weed spreading its leaves and flowers through a crack in the pavement?