Opening the Door of Your Heart (on metta)
Several centuries ago, several monks were in a cave in a jungle somewhere, meditating on unconditional love. There was the head monk, his brother and his best friend. The fourth was the head monk’s enemy: they just could not get along. The fifth monk in the group was a very old monk, so advanced in years that he was expected to die at any time. The sixth monk was sick – so ill in fact that he too could die at any time. And the last monk, the seventh, was the useless monk. He always snored when he was supposed to be meditating, he couldn’t remember his chanting, and if he did he would chant off-key. He couldn’t even keep his robes on properly. But the others tolerated him and thanked him for teaching him patience.
One day a gang of bandits discovered the cave. It was so remote, so well hidden, that they wanted to take it over as their own base, so they decided to kill all the monks. The head monk, fortunately, was a very persuasive speaker. He managed to persuade the ganga of bandits to let all the monks go, except one, who would be killed as a warning to the other monks not to let anyone know the location of the cave. That was the best the head monk could do.
The head monk was left alone for a few minutes to make the awful decision of who should be sacrificed so that the others could go free.
Who do you think the monk will choose? Will he sacrifice himself for others? Well, read on please.
His love for his brother was exactly the same, no more and no less, than his love for his best friend – which was exactly the same as his love for his enemy, for the old monk, the sick monk, and even for the dear old useless monk. He had perfected the meaning of those words: the door of my heart will always open to you, whatever you do, whoever you are.
The door of the head monk’s heart was wide open to all, with unconditional, non-discriminating, free-flowing love. And most poignantly, his love for others was equal to his love for himself. The door of his heart was open to himself as well. That’s why he couldn’t choose between himself and others.
How many of you thought that he would sacrifice himself? Why is it, in our culture, that we are always sacrificing ourselves for others and this is held to be good? Why is it that we are more demanding, critical and punishing of ourselves than of anyone else? It is for one and the same reason: we have not yet learned how to love ourselves. If you find it difficult to say to another ‘the door of my heart is open to you, whatever you do’, then that difficulty is trifling compared with the difficulty you will face in saying to yourself, ‘Me. The one I’ve been so close to for as long as I can remember. Myself. The door of my heart is open to me as well. All of me no matter what I have done. Come in.’
Forgiveness is a part of loving (ourselves).it is stepping free from the prison of guilt; it is being at peace with oneself. And if you do find the courage to say those words to yourself, honestly, in the privacy of your inner world, then you will rise up, not down, to meet sublime love. One day, we all have to say to ourselves those words, or ones similar, with honesty, not playing games. When we do, it is as if a part of ourselves that had been rejected, living outside in the cold for so long, has now come home. We feel unified, whole, and free to be happy. Only when we love ourselves in such a way can we know what it means to really love another, no more and no less.
And please remember you do not have to be perfect, without fault, to give yourself such love. If you wait for perfection, it never arises. We must open the door of our heart to ourselves, whatever we have done. Once inside, then we are perfect.
An excerpt from the book by Ajahn Brahm, The Door of Your Heart
Several centuries ago, several monks were in a cave in a jungle somewhere, meditating on unconditional love. There was the head monk, his brother and his best friend. The fourth was the head monk’s enemy: they just could not get along. The fifth monk in the group was a very old monk, so advanced in years that he was expected to die at any time. The sixth monk was sick – so ill in fact that he too could die at any time. And the last monk, the seventh, was the useless monk. He always snored when he was supposed to be meditating, he couldn’t remember his chanting, and if he did he would chant off-key. He couldn’t even keep his robes on properly. But the others tolerated him and thanked him for teaching him patience.
One day a gang of bandits discovered the cave. It was so remote, so well hidden, that they wanted to take it over as their own base, so they decided to kill all the monks. The head monk, fortunately, was a very persuasive speaker. He managed to persuade the ganga of bandits to let all the monks go, except one, who would be killed as a warning to the other monks not to let anyone know the location of the cave. That was the best the head monk could do.
The head monk was left alone for a few minutes to make the awful decision of who should be sacrificed so that the others could go free.
Who do you think the monk will choose? Will he sacrifice himself for others? Well, read on please.
His love for his brother was exactly the same, no more and no less, than his love for his best friend – which was exactly the same as his love for his enemy, for the old monk, the sick monk, and even for the dear old useless monk. He had perfected the meaning of those words: the door of my heart will always open to you, whatever you do, whoever you are.
The door of the head monk’s heart was wide open to all, with unconditional, non-discriminating, free-flowing love. And most poignantly, his love for others was equal to his love for himself. The door of his heart was open to himself as well. That’s why he couldn’t choose between himself and others.
How many of you thought that he would sacrifice himself? Why is it, in our culture, that we are always sacrificing ourselves for others and this is held to be good? Why is it that we are more demanding, critical and punishing of ourselves than of anyone else? It is for one and the same reason: we have not yet learned how to love ourselves. If you find it difficult to say to another ‘the door of my heart is open to you, whatever you do’, then that difficulty is trifling compared with the difficulty you will face in saying to yourself, ‘Me. The one I’ve been so close to for as long as I can remember. Myself. The door of my heart is open to me as well. All of me no matter what I have done. Come in.’
Forgiveness is a part of loving (ourselves).it is stepping free from the prison of guilt; it is being at peace with oneself. And if you do find the courage to say those words to yourself, honestly, in the privacy of your inner world, then you will rise up, not down, to meet sublime love. One day, we all have to say to ourselves those words, or ones similar, with honesty, not playing games. When we do, it is as if a part of ourselves that had been rejected, living outside in the cold for so long, has now come home. We feel unified, whole, and free to be happy. Only when we love ourselves in such a way can we know what it means to really love another, no more and no less.
And please remember you do not have to be perfect, without fault, to give yourself such love. If you wait for perfection, it never arises. We must open the door of our heart to ourselves, whatever we have done. Once inside, then we are perfect.
An excerpt from the book by Ajahn Brahm, The Door of Your Heart
No comments:
Post a Comment