Sunday Morning Meditation 30th march

Hello, hello, hello. Good morning to you all. Welcome to our Sunday session. To the mothers among us, a Happy Mother's Day. And my love

and well wishes are with those of you for whom today is a hard day.

You're in my heart and mind, and I'm sure in the hearts of everyone here

as we come together today.

Teachings

So for this morning, I've been working on a couple of books recently. And one, the one that is a bit further along, is a sort of anthology, or collection of the messages and themes from our Sunday sessions.

So this year, I think, will be the fifth year of running these Sunday sessions. It was maybe three years ago that we started recording them, and so we have quite a number of recordings, quite a number of different themes and messages and ideas that we meet together each week with.

And I really thought it would be good to sort of collate them and bring them together. And so I've been going through the recordings and some transcripts that some people have done, and putting them together. What I hope to do is make a sort of pocketbook with a different theme for each page and condense the messages down.

And it's been really nice to revisit some of the old ideas and themes.

There was one that came up just yesterday that I'd forgotten all about really. And I wanted to reshare.

It's a story that I think I couldn't find the source: I think it's Ajahn Brahm, it's probably him. I couldn't find it in the book that I have, but it's got an Ajahn Brahm flavour about it.

And so this is the story, a very short story, or parable more like. It goes

that there's a newlywed couple and they're out on a walk in a country park, perhaps on a nice day like today, out on a walk together. And in the distance they hear this sound, they hear a quack. They hear a couple of quacks in the distance, and the wife says, ‘Oh, listen, there must be chickens in the park’.

And the husband replies, ‘Oh no, my love, it was a duck. It was a quack, it was a duck’.

And she says, ‘Pretty sure it was a chicken. I think I know what a chicken sounds like’.

And he says, ‘Well, well, no, chickens make more of a ‘quark’ noise.

You know, they make a doodle doo, perhaps. They don't go quack - ducks go quack. So it must have been a duck’.

And then the sound comes again in the distance, ‘Quack quack’.

And she goes, ‘See, it's a chicken’.

So they're both really digging their heels in and this going back and forth. It continues on like this for a while, and he's getting really worked up because it's clearly, you know, a quack, it's clearly a duck. And he sees that she's on the verge of tears and he's saying, ‘Oh my God, it's a duck’. You know, he is about to say something really quite mean. And seeing her getting upset, he remembers what's really important. So he pauses, and there’s a quack, quack in the distance again.

And he says, ‘You know what? I think you may be right. That is a chicken’.

And so she squeezes his hand and says, ‘I told you’.

Then they continue on with their walk.

And so the point of this is, how many of our arguments, conflicts, petty back and forth are not really about the issue itself? It seems like we're arguing about the issue, but what's really going on is that we're caught up in trying to just prove ourselves right. And we know we're right and we just want the other person to see that. Where really there's nothing to gain; there's nothing to gain except being correct. Our ego just wants to win. It wants to be right. And how many moments can be ruined by this sort of thing? How many nice days out, how many evenings together, how many Christmases and birthdays and all sorts of things are ruined by two people just wanting to be right, when actually the issue is really, really minor and doesn't matter.

And so if we step back in those moments, does it really matter if we're right about the bird call? Does it really matter if we're right about, ‘Let's just follow the sat nav’.‘No, I know a shortcut’ or the right way to cook the dinner. You know, who said what and when: does it really, really matter?

In this story, as soon as the man realises he has to let go of the stubbornness, they return to enjoying their walk together. And isn't that what was more important: having a nice day together?

The harmony, the connection, the love, isn’t that what's more important? So it's a sort of ‘read the room’. What have I really got to gain here by pursuing this. Is being right, really worth the price of the bickering?

And it's interesting, for Manu and I, as I was reflecting on this this morning, Manu, as I often say, is the most natural Buddhist, non Buddhist that I've ever met. He's naturally quite understanding, naturally compassionate. There's definitely been changes in the years since I’ve known him, but he had good foundations, whereas for me, I had to work at it quite hard. I had to really work to transform my mind and improve myself over the years. We've never really been the type to squabble too much. You know, I think we're lucky that way. Sure there've been times when we get caught up in ego and ego wants to be right and we'll keep going. Generally, I think, if there's a couple of back and forths and it seems like there's not going to be an accord here, we usually turn to noble silence. And that seems to be what we do. Not a petty sort of silent treatment, ‘I'm no longer talking to you’, but in the sense that ‘there's just no point continuing this’. We'll know there's no point in adding another bit and trying to win the argument or add another side. There's just no more need to say anything. And the other one doesn't then need to pursue it by saying ‘Okay, so you agree with me, so I'm right’.

They don't need to get the last word in. There's no need for a last word.

No need for an affirmation of who was right. I think one of us, or both of us realise that this is just not going to be worth it. And so what's more important then is, of course, harmony, connection, keeping going.

And so this is not to be like, ‘Ooh, look how good we are’, but to say there's a possible strategy of noble silence.

One strategy, as it is said in the Eight Verses of Training the Mind is ‘to take defeat upon yourself, and offer the victory’.

Like the husband in the story: he realised the best thing here, the most beneficial thing would be if ‘I take defeat and I offer the victory', right?

If I say, ‘I think you're right, it's a chicken after all’.

But another strategy could be to just engage in noble silence. Noble silence is not petty silence, it's not the silent treatment. You just realise there's no need to further speak on this; there’s no need for any more words; it's not going to be beneficial speech.

But then a moment later, you can ask them about something else and speak happily on another topic. You're not holding onto a resentment.

The silence is not a harsh silence in which you are actually feeling resentful and stewing over stuff. It's a genuine letting go and it's okay.

I don’t know if that makes sense. But this ‘being correct’, ‘being right’, it might give a brief ego boost, but real joy is not an ego boost, is it?

And as I was writing this page yesterday, I put that ‘prioritising your ego is a surefire way to erode trust, harmony, and connection over time and often it's easier, and far more peaceful to just ‘‘let it be a chicken”’.