Over the weekend Marnie and I drove up to Duluth to celebrate her birthday at our favorite bed and breakfast on Park Point. We’ve spent a lot of time in Duluth and have done all the touristy things with our kids, but she planned a weekend of relaxation and celebration, and that’s what we got. We walked and drove back and forth over Duluth’s iconic Aerial Lift Bridge during the weekend, sometimes without thinking much about it.
On our way out of town, after checking out, we just missed getting across before the 11:00 a.m. guided fishing cruises came back in. So we had to wait for the bridge to rise.
A man pulled up on my right and parked his car. At first it seemed like maybe he was trying to pass on the shoulder. I was wrong.
He climbed out, leaned toward our passenger window, and said in a strong East Coast accent, “I’ve got to get a picture of this!” The stopped traffic and the rising bridge had him thrilled.
When he got back in his car, I asked if he’d gotten any good shots. He said he had, and then asked whether the bridge goes up often. We told him it lifts throughout the day, though we were sure this time was special, and I joked that they raised it for him once they heard his accent.
Not satisfied with the pictures he already had, he got out again and took more as the bridge kept climbing.
So there I sat, looking at a piece of public infrastructure I’d crossed countless times over four or five decades. My first thought was, “Dang, now we have to wait.” Next to me, a stranger looked at the exact same bridge with joy all over his face.
When the bridge started back down, I waved him ahead so he could skip the long line of cars.
I’ve Got to Get a Picture of This
You might say this man was practicing what Zen Buddhists call “beginner’s mind.”
Shunryu Suzuki, in his 1970 classic Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, wrote, “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s mind there are few.”
It’s a simple idea, and it’s popular in yoga and meditation circles. Look at everything as if for the first time, and you suffer less.
The phrase doesn’t come from the earliest Buddhist texts, but it connects to what the Buddha taught. In the Bahiya Sutta, he gives a short instruction on bare perception:
“In the seen, there is only the seen. In the heard, there is only the heard. In the sensed, there is only the sensed. In the cognized, there is only the cognized.”
To live like this takes dedication. It’s easy to get attached to our thoughts and opinions.
Ajahn Sumedho has said the kindest thing we can do for our parents is to stop creating them (in our minds), deciding ahead of time who they are and how they will act. That’s another form of beginner’s mind: meeting a person without the script. A parent walks in and you already know how the whole conversation goes before anyone speaks. To encounter the world with a beginner’s mind is a conscious choice, developed through practice, to throw out the script.
My Carpet, My Trees
Now and then I’ve had moments where I really took in the world around me, and it didn’t require an exotic setting or a feat of engineering. Once I stopped and looked at the carpet in our house, the carpet I walk on each day and think of as “my carpet.” But on this day, up close, those little fibers amazed me. Other times I’ve looked up at “my” trees in “my” backyard and wondered how old they are, how long they’ve stood in this place known as the Big Woods. The word “my” starts to feel funny. I don’t own these trees.
There are wrong times to practice with beginner’s mind. If you’re biking down a trail and reach a crossing where a line of cars has stopped to let you cross, that is not the moment to halt, look down, and marvel at the engineering in your phone. The practice is not about avoiding reality. It’s about meeting what’s actually in front of you.
The Buddha encouraged us to practice meeting each moment, including this one, with our full attention. Avoid chasing what’s gone or rehearsing what hasn’t come. Practice ardently, right now (MN 131). Notice your version of “my trees,” “my carpet,” or “my opinions about waiting for the bridge.” Let go of what isn’t yours.
You might just look around right now. What is seen, heard, sensed, cognized? Maybe it’s a bridge you’ve crossed a thousand times or the floor where your feet make contact each day. Maybe it’s the screen in your hand. Give it a fresh look and see what’s there.
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