Turning Stones
A short story about meditation and the mind.
It's a cold winter's night in the folds of the Cederberg mountain range. The cloud cover is thick, and the moon is new, offering not even a pinch of light from above. It's dark, cold, ominous, and far removed from the electrical touch of civilization's industrial fingers.
Amidst the mountainous darkness, two brothers, Vidya and Mithya, sit quietly around a fire, absorbed in the poetic monologue of cracks, pops, and occasional roars offered forth from the flames.
Suddenly, without warning, Mithya stands up. He freezes for a moment, his expression blank, as if under a spell, then turns and runs off into the night's darkness without a word.
Vidya can't believe his eyes. Puzzled by his brother's sudden departure, he wonders, 'What on earth could be so urgent and important that Mithya would leave the warmth and light of the fire?'
Within a few minutes, Mithya returns to the fire and sits down next to his brother. His jaw is clattering, and his body tense as he extends his shivering, pale hands towards the inviting warmth of the flames.
After waiting for Mithya to settle in, Vidya finally asks, "What happened out there, brother? Why did you leave the warmth of the fire for the freezing darkness of the mountains?"
"I needed to leave so I could return," Mithya replies.
Confused by his brother's answer, Vidya is about to ask more questions. But just as he opens his mouth, Mithya stands up, turns around, and vanishes into the night once more.
A few minutes later, Mithya returns, this time limping and clearly in pain. As he takes his seat, the firelight reveals a deep cut on his quivering left shin and a rapidly swelling ankle. Vidya, noticing the injuries, digs through his bag for a cloth to stop the bleeding. While tending to his brother's wound, he reinitiates the inquiry with his brother.
Vidya: “What continues to pull you away from the fire, dear brother? You return this time with pain and harm done to the body.”
To which Mithya responds, “I needed to leave in order to return.”
“I understand that, dear brother,” Vidya continues, “But what was it that needed to be done in order for you to return?”
Mithya falls silent for a moment, his eyes wide and fixed on the dancing flames, then hesitantly he shares, "Stones need to be turned, brother. Once I turned the stone, I could return to the fire."
Vidya, with a calm yet earnest tone, "This is the urgent task that summons you away from the warmth and light of our fire? To turn a stone? This is madness, dear brother. See the insanity of it. Stay by me at the fire. There's no need to leave to turn stones."
Mithya shifts his gaze from the mesmerizing flames to meet the damp eyes of his now tearing brother, Vidya. For a split second, it seems he realizes his own predicament. A slight break in the trance. But in the next moment, he's up again, and with a slow hobble, fades back into the darkness.
This cycle of departure and return continues throughout the night. Each time, Mithya comes back colder, paler, and with more cuts and bruises than before.
Vidya, having given up on trying to reason with his brother, simply offers bandages, blankets, and support upon his return each time. His heart is quiet but tender with Mithya’s turmoil.
"Please brother, just stay with me by the fire." Vidya says caringly, as his bruised and bleeding brother sits down once more. "If you keep this up, I'm afraid that soon you'll leave and not return to the fire."
Hearing these words, Mithya turns his shaking gaze towards his brother. Blood streams from a gash just above his right eye, and a gentle tear slowly trickles from his left.
He sighs deeply, and then with a tone of disillusioned surrender, Mithya speaks,
"Oh brother, sitting with you here by the fire, the task of turning stones feels frivolous, nonsensical. I understand that. It's clear to me while I'm sitting here. But as soon as the compulsion arises, I believe the task is utterly necessary."
Vidya, “Then let me help you, dear brother. I can't remove this compulsion to leave the fire. Only you can pull out that thorn. But I might be able offer some guidance.”
Over the next few hours, between Mithya’s stone turning departures, the two brothers talk deeply about the problem at hand and the path to move beyond it.
Mithya: Oh brother, sitting here with you I understand the insanity of my actions, and yet this understanding is clearly not enough to keep me by the fire. What is this force that compels me to the darkness?
Vidya: Dear brother, the first thing that must be understood is that your predicament is not unique. All humans suffer in this way. And although outwardly, the situations and actions taken look different, the driving force is always same.
Mithya: And what is this force brother? When it is active, the actions feel so necessary. So urgent. So utterly important.
Vidya: There are many names for it: Attachment is one. Bondage is another. But the names aren't what matter, brother. What's crucial is that you see, clearly and directly, how this force moves within you.
Just as the word 'flower' fails to capture the complexity and beauty of witnessing a flowering Cape Protea nestled in the rocks, its leaves glistening with early morning dew, softly catching the first rays of sunrise on an early spring morning, so too does the word 'attachment' fall short of encompassing the fullness of its reference without genuine investigation.
Mithya: I appreciate that the word is not the thing brother, but what exactly am I looking for? Can you point me in the direction of this force of attachment, like a field botanist directs a hiker to the places where the Cape Protea is likely to exist?
Vidya: It's a tough question to answer, brother, but I'll say this. At an abstract level, attachment is the belief that an object contains our ultimate joy, our happiness, our peace. This belief creates the conviction that for us to be peaceful, joyful, and happy, we need to embark on a path of seeking, reaching, desiring, and struggling to attain this object. Only once this object is attained can the promised joy be experienced.
And the object can take many forms. For you, dear brother, the object is the turned stone. For others, it might be the promise of their next relationship, a better job, or the belief that buying their dream home will make them happy. Some think having a child will bring them lasting joy, or that they'll find peace once their children have left home. Others believe moving to the countryside will bring tranquility, that meditating for 1000 hours will bring equanimity, or that weekly prayers at the chapel will lead them to the glory of God, and so on.
Everyone in the world suffers from this madness, dear brother. Each person, outwardly focused, holds the conviction that their current object of desire will bring the joy, peace, and love they're searching for. Each one of us is driven to turn a stone, believing it's necessary to return to the warm fire from which we departed.
The biggest tragedy is that we appear to arrive at a fleeting flash of peace, joy, and happiness as a consequence of obtaining the desired object. That flash is fuel that keeps the whole theatre going.
Mithya: Could you say more here brother. It does appear to me that arriving at the object of desire brings about the peace, joy and happiness it promises. Yet you say this is a tragedy. Might this appearance be false? And if so, what is the truth of it?
Vidya: Do dispersing cloud cause the clear sky, or is the sky here all along, but simply veiled by the grey cloud cover?
Mithya: The sky is here, but veiled by the clouds. That’s obvious.
Vidya: In the same way that we experience the ever-present clear sky in the absence of cloud cover, we know happiness, peace and joy in the absence of the desire for an object.
It is only when the desire to move towards the object is active, that our peace, happiness and joy are veiled. Clouded over. And when we arrive at the object of desire, it is not the object itself that provides the fleeting moment of joy, but rather the temporary subsiding tensions and miseries created by our minds actively searching for objects yet to be met.
In this way, it is not the turning of the stone that allows you to return to the fire dear brother, but rather, the temporary quietening of the object-driven mind, and a return to our natural unrestrained state.
Like an elastic band stretched between two opposing index fingers returns to its natural unstrained state, when one finger it removed.
Mithya: You have deepened my understanding brother, and yet hearing your words is not enough. The desire to turn stones is alive and clearly unaffected by this knowledge alone. What can be done to alleviate this insanity? I cannot seem to control it.
Vidya: You are right dear brother, words indeed are not enough. As we spoke about, the description of a flower is not the flower itself. The accumulation of knowledge is not wisdom. A conceptual understanding of the problem bears no fruit. But neither does control.
Mithya: Surely the mind needs to be controlled in order to remove the attachment and the beliefs underlying it?
Vidya: This is not true, dear brother. Human beings have attempted to remove attachments to worldly objects through both inner and outer control for thousands of years, with little effect.
Outwardly, this control has come in the form of abstinence, reclusion, chastity, celibacy and asceticism.
The conviction here is that if one is able to distance themselves from the objects of the desiring mind, with time the attachment will wither, and liberation from the mind will result.
The reality is that this activity simply creates another form of attachment.
See the cunningness of the mind here. Its capacity to deceive and disguise itself. The cloths have changed but the pattern is the same: If I abstain from food, drugs, sex, relationships, etc, then I believe I will be joyful, peaceful and happy. Only then will I be liberated.
After one year of doing it— ‘its working, but I need another year in order to reach it’. After five years—’I’m really getting somewhere but more time is needed. I failed at several points over the years but I’m dissolving massive ancestral patterns so its okay. They will take time…’ And then at the end of life— ‘my chastity didn’t bring me freedom in this life, but I believe it will in the next.’
Mithya: I see… And what about inward control?
Vidya: Inwardly, the problem is the same. But instead of chastity, isolation and abstinence, the pattern takes subtler forms of concentration. Examples of this are mantra practice, concentrating on the breathe or a devotion to images. Which all appear to provide some temporary alleviation, that the mind then turns into an object and pursues. Saying, I need more of x, I must become y, once day I’ll reach z. Then I will be free. Then I will be happy. Then I will be at peace. Do you see the malignant pattern, dear brother? Do you see how it quietly permeates all practice no matter how noble or well intentioned.
Mithya: I see it brother. By chaining myself to this rock or concentrating diligently on my breath, I provide temporary relief from my attachment to turning stones, but once the chain has rusted or my focus waned, I will return to the act of the harmful activity.
Vidya: And not only that, dear brother.
You will be attached to the very practices that were intended to alleviate your attachment! ‘I must be chained in order to reach freedom. I need to keep by attention militantly fixed on my breath in order to know peace.’ See the tragic irony of what we are doing to ourselves.
Mithya: So do practices like abstinence, isolation and diligent concentration have no use at all?
Vidya: They have use, but only if we are vigilant to the mind’s tendency to turn them into objects of pursuit. If we can appreciate the movement of this tendency, then such practices can provide temporary support—like scaffolding provides support while a home is being built.
Mithya: How can these practices support us, brother?
Vidya: We are all so lost in this frantic world. We're deeply invested in our attachments, feeling as if they're all there is. It seems there's no room to listen, to inquire, to investigate, to see clearly.
For some of us, stepping out of our everyday lives can loosen the binds of our character just enough to create the space and energy for investigation.
However, the mind doesn't like this distance. It feels cut off from its security, like a heroin addict cut off from their fix, and so it revolts.
Turmoil, discomfort, and heavy feelings often arise, not only because the mind has lost its security but also because many of our attachments are born of an escape from a difficult moment in our lives—a situation that wasn’t fully addressed, an emotion that wasn’t fully felt. Without these binds, these feelings are finally allowed to surface.
This can be overwhelming and too painful to bear at first, so we might use object-oriented concentration practices like mantras, breath focus, touch, or giving our attention to a candle flame—as a way to temporarily quieten the mind enough for investigation.
But just as a traveling man who builds a raft to cross a river does not continue dragging the raft with him once he reaches the other side, we too should not continue carrying these practices once they have served their purpose.
Mithya: So what then will liberate me from this ceaseless drive to turn stones brother?
I see that knowledge can point me in the right direction, but it cannot go much further. I see that outward and inward control can support me in quietening the mind, but also cannot go much further.
What then will free me from my misery, and allow me to stay here with you by the warmth of the fire?
Vidya: Direct insight, dear brother.
From insight, an effortless intelligence arises, seeing and knowing the menace of attachment so intimately that it naturally moves away from its claws.
Mithya: But what is this insight? And how is it different from knowledge?
Vidya: Let me share a short story to help answer your question.
There was once a woman who lived at the foot of a small mountain in a cozy cottage. Every other morning, she would wake up at the crack of dawn and walk briskly from the base of the mountain up towards its magnificent peak. She loved her ritual dearly, but every time she returned home, she noticed a swelling rash on her right forearm. It wasn’t terribly painful, but it caused skin irritation and sometimes prevented her from performing her daily tasks.
One morning, after a particularly tough day with swelling and inflamed skin, she'd had enough and decided to investigate the cause of the irritation.
A knowledgeable botanical friend had suggested she look out for certain plants that could be causing the reaction, giving her some direction. She also decided to leave her phone and earphones at home that morning—items she typically used to listen to podcasts and news on her way up to the peak. This allowed her to stay quiet, alert, and keenly observant of everything on her path.
She started her hike. For the first hour, she found nothing suspicious. But remaining alert and attentive, she continued to watch, listen, feel, and sense, unclear about what she was looking for but motivated to find out.
Then, about 20 minutes from the top of the 2-hour climb, as she moved along a narrow part of the path, thick with wild vegetation on either side, she made a discovery. She observed the passing flora carefully and noticed that camouflaged among the harmless shrubbery on the right-hand side of the path was a host of quietly growing Urtica dioica, otherwise known as stinging nettle.
She broke off a branch and gently rubbed it up and down her right forearm, feeling the early stages of the chemical reaction on her skin. In that moment, she knew she had found the culprit. And from that day on, she effortlessly avoided the touch of the poisonous plant.
That is direct insight. An immediate and total understanding of the problem. Not an understanding that operates at the level of thought, but rather an understanding alive in the blood and bones of our being—an understanding that acts intelligently without effort or time.
Mithya: So the movements of the mind that generate attachment must be observed directly.
Vidya: Yes, the very source of attachment must be seen clearly as the psychological toxin that poisons our lives, leading to all of our misery, turmoil and suffering.
Mithya: How does one observe the movements of the mind though, brother? To see and directly investigate something outwardly like a poisonous plant is obvious, but the mind does not appear to be out there in the world, so how can it be looked at?
Vidya: This is a good question, dear brother. One of the ploys of the mind is the division it creates between inside and outside. Me and you. Present and past. Here and there. Mind-body and world. All that is on the inside is ‘me’. All that is on the outside is what ‘the me’ experiences.
In order to observe totally, which means not just partially—the outside. To see the whole of the contents of consciousness as it is—not how it should be, or how we would like it to be. To observe fully and clearly. This is what leads to insight.
To do this we first need to investigate ‘the me’. This thing we call ‘I’.
What is this I? Who am I? Where am I? Do I have a location? When I ask that question ‘who am I?’ what do I mean? What does ‘I’ even mean? What can I know for sure about this ‘I’? Go into it brother. Investigate for yourself.
Mithya: Well, I know that I am sitting on this rock talking to you. I know that I am Mithya. That I am this body.
Vidya: Ah brother but look more closely. You say ‘I am sitting on this rock’, but is that essential to you? If you stand up, you are no longer sitting on the rock and yet the ‘I’ remains.
It is the same with your name. If you were to change your name to Shiksha, and everyone started calling you that, Mithya would be gone, and yet you would remain— the ‘I’ still be here. So are names essential to who you are?
Mithya: I see what you are pointing at, brother. But what about this body? It appears wherever I go. Am I the body?
Vidya: What is the word ‘body’ referring to? Is it not a bundle of thoughts, perceptions, feelings and sensations? And are these thoughts, perceptions, feelings and sensation not continuously changing?
The body that was 10 months old is a very different body to the one that sits here today, and yet the ‘I’ of the 10 month old and the I sitting here is the same I. Is it not?
Don’t stop at conceptually understanding this. Explore your immediate experience. In every moment, feelings, sensations, thoughts and perceptions of ‘the body’ are continuously changing, and yet the ‘I’ that is experiencing all of it remains. Unwavering. Unaffected.
Mithya: So what you are saying is that I am essentially unaffected by the movements of the body and the mind. So am I just as much myself when I am in deep sleep as I am while having dinner with a friend?
Vidya: Yes, dear brother. You are the water of the ocean, which remains itself whether in the form of a vicious Tsunami, or a tranquil calm sea.
Mithya: But, what about when this body withers and dies? Will I remain unaffected?
Vidya: Just like the sky is not affected by the dissipating clouds, you remain unmoved by the decomposing body.
And like a clump of clay remains clay as it is shaped into a beautiful pot, you remain as you are prior, during and after the birth of this body.
Mithya: What then is my nature? If I am not the body, the mind—any of the particular changing content of experience, then what am I?
Vidya: You are nothing dear brother. No thing. Not a thing.
You are not a certain object that can be found. You are the consciousness that knows the object. You are not a certain feeling, but rather the one who feels the feeling. You are not the stream of thoughts, but rather the one who knows the thoughts.
You are the objectless one behind everything. And yet not separate from any of it—as separation would require you be an object standing in relation to that which is being experienced.
Understand this. Not conceptually. Not intellectually—that is trivial and ineffective. But directly. Immediately. Right now, as the absolute truth of reality. Then only will there be clarity.
Mithya: The clarity to see movements of attachment?
Vidya: Clearly and directly, yes brother. The clarity to see the entire movement of the mind and all of its tendencies is essential. Only then will the poison of division, separation, attachment, and the constant turmoil it creates begin to dissipate—like the fiery eye of the sun shining so brightly that the clouds it casts its gaze upon dissolve instantly.
Mithya: So by loosening my identification with the body, mind, thinking, feeling, sensing and all the rest of it, I remove the arbitrary distinction between me and the world. Between inside and outside. Mine and not mine. Between the observer and the observed. Between the knower and the known.
Abiding here opens up the capacity to witness the totality of conscious experience. The total contents of awareness.
And it is this capacity to witness the totality that allows for the direct seeing of the movements of the mind, and all the toxic turmoil that it creates. And in seeing this turmoil, there is natural and effortless movement away from it.
Vidya: Conceptually, this is well understood. But as I have mentioned, do not be satisfied with mere intellectual understanding. It will not serve you.
Arriving at effortless insight requires sincerity, devotion, and a one pointed alertness.
But above all else, dear brother, what is required is the gentle hand of grace. For in the end, try as we might to call forth the light, dawn only comes when the sun rises.
Mithya, whose eyes have been fixed on the fire for some time, turns to look at his brother, only to find an empty rock where his brother seemed to be sitting moments ago.
He turns his gaze back to the fire, with a gentle smile, remaining quiet and still until the dawn light begins to burst through the cracks and crevices in the rocky mountain, softly making contact and announcing its warm, loving grace.
Take care,
David
If you’re looking to join a community of truth seekers, interested in understanding meditation, self-inquiry and the nature of the mind, come visit Nouma.
I’ve also got a few retreats coming up. The next one will be a four day silent retreat at Bodhi Khaya. If you’re interested you can learn more here.
Beautiful parables & analogies David. Thank you for the enlightening read!