Dharma Heroin

In a recent inquiry group at Appamada, Flint was refrencing the chapter on Coming to Our Senses in Joko Beck’s book “Nothing Special”. In the chapter, Joko talks about the importance of staying grounded in the present moment as we experience it through our five senses and the engagement of functional thought.

As Flint gave his talk and as I listened to the exchanges taking place with those going up for inquiry, the words Dharma Heroin kept coming up in my mind. When it was my own time in the inquiry chair, I told Flint about it and his face lit up in that way that it does, so full of attention and curiosity. He asked me what Dharma Heroin was and when I said I didn’t know, it was just something that came into my mind; he assured me that somewhere inside was the connection to its meaning.

As I reflect back on the group, I am reminded that in my work as a therapist, I have always really liked the Heroin addicts I’ve worked with. Even though statistically, they have the worst recovery rates of all those who struggle with drug addictions. I think it’s in the way, that when they’re not desperate for a fix or completely zoned out in the high, they tend to be very thoughtful, gentle, and sensitive people who are capable of showing a lot of loving kindness and compassion. The thing that always seems to trip them up is that there is very little in the everyday world of existence that even comes close to the euphoric nothingness they get from Heroin. So, even when they recognize the price paid for that euphoria and are trying to stay in recovery, they always seem to be filled with sadness and longing for what they had so fleeting a taste of and can’t seem to find on their own.

When we come to the Dharma, with its promises of Enlightenment and cessation of suffering; its ideas of all Beings being part of Universal Buddha Nature; and its beautifully inspiring metaphors (like the “big” mind of awareness being the vast clear blue sky and thoughts and feelings being the transitory weather that comes and goes), it can be easy to think that what we are looking for is an idea or experience that is outside of what we have right now. Whenever we have those moments of clear understanding and deep connection, they are almost always followed with, “Why can’t it be like this all the time?”, “Why must I always fall back into confusion, anger, sadness, boredom, guilt, frustration, and fear”. As we practice and begin to have those moments of deep clarity and connection, we can easily become dissatisfied with the quality of our everyday existence and begin to seek after and daydream about some idealized state in which we live as embodiments of Buddha Nature, meeting everything with calm equanimity and effortless right action. But, as Joko says, those daydreams cut us off from what life really is- a stream or river that in some moments can be pleasant and tranquil and in others turbulent, full of obstacles and roaring currents that to look at can fill us with fear and anxiety. If we stay gazing at the sky ignoring the stream, inevitably, we run into trouble.
In the sport of whitewater kayaking the most interesting places are where the roaring currents and the obstacles meet. In those places, with a great deal of courage, effort, balance, and attention, kayakers are able to “surf” on the waves the obstacles create in the current. It is something truly beautiful and inspiring to behold and for the kayaker both exhilarating and terrifying.

As we bob along in the current of our own lives it is understandable that the obstacles we find can lead to some search for safety or a way to float high above it all. Because, lets face it, sometimes those obstacles really hurt. But, if we stay present and hold on to those fleeting moments of clarity and connection we sometimes have, and go into the swirl with a little bit of courage and attention it’s possible to let our true nature flow through us even as we meet all the difficulties that life throws our way. It is in this kind of meeting that we discover how truly beautiful and inspiring we all really are.

When I go to inquiry and watch all the struggles and strivings, when I see moments of trembling and release and then feel the swell of connection flow through the room, I can’t help but feel that I would like to stay there forever, lost in the aching beauty of it all, but of course, that’s not what it’s about. When we get up and leave, we take those experiences with us and have a chance to, just maybe, be inspired as we meet what comes.