Getting my heart ready — Part 2

In part one, I opened up about the doubts and inner conflicts that led me toward the Shikoku Henro—an unlikely path for someone skeptical of religion and spirituality. What began as a need for direction after a period of grief and mental distress gradually drew me toward Buddhism’s non-theistic, flexible philosophy. I found echoes of my own experiences and conclusions where I did not expect them. In part two, I will try to explain this further on a more personal level.

A Letter to My Future Self

Last July— as a sort of final assignment—my psychologist asked me to write a letter to my future self. The letter needed to contain my wishes and hopes for what I wanted my life to look like in a year. The idea of such an exercise was to manifest these wishes and make them a possible reality.

I created several drafts and tried to think about what I actually wanted for myself, but each time I got stuck on the same conclusion: I wanted to stop wanting.

I could think only of things I didn’t want. This might sound strange, but one of the things I began to experience over the past year was a powerful urge to stop constantly needing and wanting. I was starting to recognize that my recent grief, depression, and distress were tied to the fact that my hopes, dreams, and wishes were all rooted in wanting and needing things to be a certain way. The constant need for controlling something that I had in fact no control over.

My life, my dreams, my future—my, my, my… so many my’s. Too many my’s…

A Realization That Suddenly Made Sense

As it turns out, this is a core Buddhist principle: that desire and craving cause a sense of lack, which in turn leads to dissatisfaction. It’s part of the Second Noble Truth—the cause of suffering. I won’t go into details here, as there is an enormous amount of information available for those who are interested. I’m simply trying to clarify how this realization suddenly clicked with my newly set goal of walking a Buddhist pilgrimage.

Another thing that has helped me tremendously over the past few months is meditation. Although I had meditated before, I did so in a more “new age” manner, mainly focusing on breathing techniques and visualization. Since discovering zazen, or shikantaza —just sitting—I’ve been practicing it several times a week.

It is one of the simplest—and at the same time most difficult—things I’ve ever done. Just sitting and being, without getting caught in my constant wandering, noisy, and distracting thoughts, can be as frustrating as it is liberating when it works. Still, it has helped me stay focused on day-to-day tasks and remain on course for the big hike.

Returning to the Shikoku Henro

Which brings me back to the Shikoku Henro. Although I don’t identify as a Buddhist, I do feel that this past year has brought me closer to the teachings of Buddhism, which in turn has brought me closer to understanding my own state of mind.

In preparation of the walk, I’ve been reading many books and articles. On the history, the different branches and practices. I read the major sutras and I understand why they are so loved and respected. I’m even trying to memorize the Heart Sutra phonetically, as it is an eye—or should I say heart—opening text that I would recommend to anyone. I also plan to follow temple etiquette and to sleep in several of the temples that offer pilgrim housing so I can join the morning meditation.

Who knows—come next July, I might turn out to be a Buddhist after all.