A point of brutal honesty came along in my meditation practice. Asking myself, "Why am I doing this practice?" the answer came, "because I want good health." I found in myself an attitude along the lines of, "If I pay into this spiritual system, I will be purchasing certain goods."
What kinds of "payments" was I making, and what was this "spiritual system?" One form of payment was following the instructions of meditation teachers I encountered through books and schools. Making financial payments to the spiritual teachers and institutions I "believed in," was another form of payment. Service to individuals in my spiritual community was another.
I say this was a moment of brutal honesty, because ostensibly my goal was spiritual unfoldment, but in fact I was yearning for health, and relief from my physical discomforts. I was hoping some outside force, organized through traditions and teachers, a "spiritual system" would deliver the goods if I made the right forms of payment.
Oops! I seem to have lost my "I" in this conceptualization. I see a little "Me" relating to a powerful "Other" in a role that might even be more lowly than a consumer. Does it seem a little bit like I have spent the last twelve years of my meditation practice as a spiritual beggar? It does, a little bit. This is not to denigrate the "payments" I was making. I can still participate in spiritual groups and classes with a different self-concept.
It took some time to answer the question, "If not for health, (a pretty good motivation) what motivation do I wish I had for doing this meditation practice?" A morning glory on my fire escape helped me re-conceptualize my goal. Maybe you know something about morning glories, but I didn't know anything about them when I put the seeds in my planter box: assorted wildflowers and some morning glory seeds. At first I was sorry that only one morning glory seed sprouted. But there is a lot of life force in one morning glory seed. This phenomenal life force unfolded hundreds of leaves, that incidentally created shade for the less hearty wildflowers in the box. That life force requires a lot of the limited water the planter box can hold, and the wildflowers suffered in the competition. The morning glory wound its way up the water spout toward the upstairs neighbor's tomato plants, and I can't tell you what happened up there, because I am afraid to look.
It's perfectly natural. And in my way of looking at a morning glory, it's perfectly wonderful. But using the morning glory as a metaphor for myself, I would like to make it my goal to see the whole planter box. I think it would be wonderful if I could transform myself so that even in my brutally honest moments I could answer that I am doing my meditation practice for the good of all. I'm not there yet, but I find it helpful to have a direction in mind.
