A cartoon appeared in the New Yorker magazine featuring two Buddhist monks. The pair is seated side-by-side in meditative postures. Each has his head shaved and wears the traditional robes of their Buddhist order. The younger monk has a quizzical expression. The other monk whose face is lined with age and experience turns toward the novice in response. The caption reads: "Nothing happens next. This is it."

This cartoon captures the essence of Buddhism. All we have is the present moment. Although our mind often rushes on in search of a better future or dwells on the memories of the past, life presents itself to us as gift each moment. "This is it!"

In seminary, I was fortunate enough to take a class my very first semester with Buddhist scholar and activist, Joanna Macy. The course was called "Spiritual Ground for World Engagement". I had been drawn to Buddhism since I was first introduced to it as a child during Unitarian Universalist Sunday School. During the first session in the Fireside Room of Starr King School for the Ministry, we did what you usually do on the first day of any graduate level course: we reviewed the syllabus and the required texts and assignments. There were many books to read and papers to write but what was unusual was the requirement of a daily meditation practice.

I remember my original feeling of pride and satisfaction with this assignment. "Ah!" I thought, "I have arrived in truly a spiritual place." The assigned reading material described the importance of silence, taking time for one's self, and being in a state of mindfulness. Those concepts were not foreign to me. I had long enjoyed spending time by myself, and closely observing people, places, and things. However, up until then, formal meditation had never been a part of my life and I reveled in the opportunity to engage in routine spiritual practice.

The task seemed simple: sit for twenty minutes focusing on the breath. I soon discovered that although meditation is simple, it is not easy. The first few experiences were difficult because my body was uncomfortable. I would continually slip from the upright posture and would have circulation problems. The intense pins and needles feeling in my legs would distract me from any sort of awareness of my breath and meditation became a struggle to keep from jumping up. The purchase of a meditation cushion called a zafu helped my practice by keeping my body aligned more comfortably.

My expectation had been that meditation would offer a sense of peace, wholeness, and connection to the universe. Many practitioners describe feeling energized and more acutely alive on the days that they meditate. As a novice, I found that it took practice to be able to truly sink into silence. The mind does not simply shut down and turn blank like a television screen. In stillness, I became aware of an incessant stream of thoughts and impulses.

When I described my experience to Joanna Macy, I was dismayed to learn that "This is it." This common experience is referred to as "drunken monkey mind". Our minds constantly rush with likes and dislikes, opinions and prejudices, projections and expectations to which we are often unconscious. Our actions are often driven by patterns of thought that we habitually overlook.

What I learned through my practice is that it becomes easier over time to make room in my life just to be. Through sitting in stillness, I learned to focus on my breathing and to notice thoughts as they arise and with less judgment to let them go and return once again to my breathing. I have not continued the discipline of a daily meditation practice. However, on those days that are the most stress-filled and hectic, I remember what Joanna said, "When you feel that you have no time, your spiritual practice should be twice as long." Then, I take out the zafu cushion and focus on my breathing and indeed new possibilities open up to move me through my day.

This practice of mindfulness meditation has its application in everyday life. Meditation is the art of paying attention. So whether or not you ever choose to engage in sitting in silence, you can choose to move through the world more fully, more effectively and more peacefully. How? Like the practice of meditation, mindfulness is simple but not easy. Our society is filled with distractions and noise that can keep us from slowing down enough to enjoy the present moment. The Tibetan Buddhist Sogyal Rinpoche calls this tendency "Active Laziness". We are so busy with compulsive activity that there is no time to confront the real issues of our lives. Chances are that if we fill our lives with constant noise and movement, our actions are driven by habitual and largely unconscious thoughts. Mindfulness is the art of conscious living.

So, I invite you in the week ahead to practice mindfulness. When you are eating, take the time for a sustained, mindful, attentive tasting. Notice the textures and flavors of your food. Pay attention to the source of your nourishment and our intimate connection to the earth. Open your awareness to those who are hungry and let it awaken your gratitude and compassion.

When you are walking outdoors, take the time for a sustained, mindful, attentive step. We are often in such a rush to move from place to place that our minds race ahead of our bodies. Enjoy walking not only as a means to arrive but just for walking. Take your steps in full awareness and invite a sense of balance and harmony as you tread lightly on the earth.

Of course, there are many other ways that we can engage in mindfulness. The most tedious activities like doing dishes or using a copy machine are transformed when we become aware of each action. Much of our unhappiness or tension comes from not being fully present.

A good example of this comes from the story of Buddha himself.

About twenty-five hundred years ago, Siddhartha Gautama was born in India as a prince. His father showered his son with every luxury and sheltered him from the sight of illness and poverty. When Gautama first encountered the suffering and injustice of the world, he abandoned his riches. Instead, he wandered for six years, fasting and listening to Hindu holy men. Gautama became disillusioned by the Hindu spiritual practices. He sat under a fig tree, now known as the bodhi or Tree of Wisdom, and after forty-nine days of meditation he found Enlightenment. Buddha means "the awakened one". He had experienced the path of hedonism through worldly goods and pleasures. He had followed the counsel of the holy men and deprived himself of food and sleep. Buddha found and taught a Middle Way between the extremes of pleasure and pain. For forty-five years Buddha preached and taught. The statue that is in front of the chalice is of the Buddha in a preaching posture. His message was simple but not easy: "You are all Buddhas. There is nothing you need to achieve. Just open your eyes."

You may be familiar with the greeting "Namaste". The palms of the hands are pressed together and the person bows as a sign of respect and reverence. The hands in this position are like a lotus blossom. It is a way of saying, "A lotus for you, a buddha to be". Through the practice of mindfulness, the practitioner is in the process of blooming. In the words of Vietnamese Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, "Buddhas are fully bloomed human flowers, beautiful and refreshing." However, this is not some sweet and saccharine kind of flowering. The lotus root goes deep into the mud at the bottom of the water just as we must sit with the muck and hardship of this world if we are ever to blossom with compassion and harmony.

Buddha means "the awakened one". When Gautama arose from his meditation under the bodhi tree, he woke up from the dream of being a separate ego in a material universe. Instead of clinging to material attachments, illusions of grandeur and separateness, he taught the release of suffering through mindfulness in the present moment. The story that Piper read for us this morning lifts up this same truth, "I am part of all I see and all I see is a part of me."

We are becoming increasingly aware of our interconnectedness. June Wing, a member of this church, gave me an article describing recent experiments in the realm of neurotheology. At the University of Pennsylvania and the University of California, scientists are examining how spiritual practices manifest in the human brain. According to Dr. Andrew Newberg, when a person reaches a meditative state, the orientation area of the brain, which is connected to our sense of identity, quiets down so that the border of self and world relaxes for a time. This certainly corresponds to the expansive transcendent feeling that advanced practitioners experience and those moments when we feel at one with all creation.

One of my favorite Buddhist lessons is "If you find the Buddha in the road, kill him." The Middle Way is the path of compassion so it does not advocate violence. What is meant by this statement is that you cannot find enlightenment outside of yourself. We each have a deep capacity for peace, wholeness, and harmony. However, it is your own life that is unfolding each moment, no one can be mindful for you. In the words of the Buddha, "Be a lamp to yourself. Be your own confidence. Hold to the truth within yourself, as to the only truth." Namaste.