An empty day without events. And that is why it grew immense as space. And suddenly happiness of being entered me.
I heard in my heartbeat the birth of time and each instant of life one after the other came rushing in like priceless gifts.
After reading this many times, what stood out to me became “happiness of being.” So, not “happiness of doing.” We cannot say, however, there is no happiness in doing - or can we?
Yet, as some of you know from past writings here, I do not confuse happiness with joy. In contemplative spirituality, happiness is not the same as joy. Joy is often rendered “bliss” in the Orient; it has no cause external to being. Happiness relies on happenings. Joy depends on Nothing.
In Buddhism, joy arises with wisdom and compassion, for they are our true nature. In Christianity, as in the Book of Galatians, joy is one of the eight among the Fruit of the Spirit - "fruit" singular, for they are a unity. The Fruit is: love, joy, peace, patience (or perseverance), kindness, generosity (or goodness), faithfulness, gentleness, temperance (self-control [a term used among the Stoics]). Thus, joy is rightly seen in these paths as co-arising from and as true nature.
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Joy, for from true nature, does not come from doing or the completed act - i.e., a cause. The doing or done is a condition for the arising of joy. I often feel joy writing for this site, but does the joy reside in the act of writing? The writing when complete? How about that? What do you think? Is joy ever in an act itself? The result of the action?
For me, the joy arises within the act of writing and contemplating the completed writing. A condition is the act of writing and the result of writing. Yet, joy can arise without any intent to act or create, as we learn through silent contemplation. And, even with the act, joy is blocked, if I try to manage the process of creativity.
Joy is found in the freedom of flow, a subtle partnership between conscious skill and spontaneous intuition in which the outcome remains unknown. Hence, the process of writing becomes a mirror for me on how to live outside the time of writing, as well as a mirror on how that happens to a degree - expanding over time - outside writing. In other words, life is writing, writing is life... so is washing dishes, putting on your shoes, talking with a friend, going for a walk, driving along the road, ... Hence, the potential for joy is present always for us.
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Could it be an attachment to accomplishing something, by which we are socialized to judge our and others’ worth, leads to the forgetfulness of the innate bliss we see in the smiles of small children? Have you noticed how children can play just to play, without a thought of achieving anything? Playing is the point, and that is the action of being.
We can speak of the things we “need to do” or “must get done,” ever living not in the moment but in the not-yet, the yet-to-be. And, when we get to the end of the yet-to-be, for it gets done, we are off to another something to do. And, when we meet people for the first time, they ask, “What do you do?” When we meet someone after a long absence, they ask, “What have you been doing?” You could say, "I've been nondoing." Then, can you guess what the look on their face might be? Your answer would be correct, however. Your essence is being, so nondoing.
Have people forgotten we are human beings, not human doings? All forms of being - minerals, plants, animals, ... - are how being appears. So, when we relax without clinging to the need to accomplish something, we are at-home and can freely, joyfully act from ourselves, rather than losing ourselves in doing.
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Do we forfeit joy by relaxing the neediness of doing? No. We reconnect with the joy we bring to what we do and what we do not do. We bring ourselves consciously to the act. We bring body-and-mind to actions - that is the intimacy of true nature. Being enjoys doing. Being does not wish just to sit alone in a corner and go to sleep. Being likes involvement with moving things, doing beings. Being naturally participates. Doing-with is one way being reflects itself to itself, confirming itself as itself.
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To enjoy this being-bliss, we need, like the poet, time to experience it apart from the felt-need to achieve something. In fact, the best meditation is to meditate with no thought of accomplishing anything. Being being. Enjoying itself. And you, now, anywhere, with a few moments of quiet, of solitary breathing.
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Saigyō, Japanese Buddhist monk, poet (1118-1190) -
Waiting, my scattered heart grows quiet just so mountain cherry when you flower hold still your blossoms
To enjoy ourselves, we need time to recollect - a time of non-doing. A term in meditation is "recollection." We can easily become too scattered. So, meditation is a practice of coming home, of calling ourselves back to ourselves. From there, we live intimately.
Quiet is essential for recollection. Stillness means we learn to live without leaving stillness. Hurriedness arises only when it is needed and natural. We can go many places, while never leaving ourselves. Then, that we do becomes an unceasing prayer without the thought of praying to anyone or anything. We become that we once did, and, so, there is no longer the space between ourselves and what we now do.
In Christian contemplative traditions, this is often called living a contemplative life. Con-templative, lit. "with a temple," meaning never leaving yourself. Also, many in that path speak of Practicing the Presence of God. Yet, you do not need to think of God, Buddha, or anyone - but you can choose to. In the oneness of self and act, of being and doing, nevertheless, nothing intervenes, not the most apparently holy or enlightened thought. Being is pure being, so an act becomes as a pure act. Pure in the sense of intimate, undiluted, fresh.
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As Swir writes, life is rushing in. When is it rushing in? When is it not?
You, being true nature, are before, during, and after.
Nothing you do or do not do changes you.
You are the doer and the witness of the doing and the done.
Yet, you participate in change, so appear to change.
(still, you are prior to the appearance you appear to be)
For person, happiness becomes, so comes and goes.
For you, being joy, joy remains - for it is.
Shine On! You Lotus Blossoms ...
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(C) brian wilcox, 2025
*”Satisfied.” In John Brehm, Ed. The Poetry of Impermanence, Mindfulness, and Joy. Poem translated from Polish by Czesław Miłosz and Leonard Nathan.
*Saigyō poem in Saigyō. Gazing at the Moon: Buddhist Poems of Solitude. Trans. Meredith McKinney.
