Raking

I had been training at MAPLE for some time and listened to many a talk from Forall before I realized the most significant difference between him and other teachers. His teaching is always a demonstration of the thing being taught—instead of merely packing some experience of truth into a concept and getting me to share that concept with language, he invites his students to experience the truth directly by bringing it forth. Of course, this kind of teaching only works if we’re practicing, otherwise we’ll do all the conceptual box-stuffing, but a teacher can’t really do a student’s work for them at the end of the day, and this is still very different from most of my education prior to MAPLE. This is true even when the vehicle of teaching is a talk, but the moment that clarified this point for me came, as most of my genuine insights did early on in my training, during a work practice period.

This one happened to be during the “integration day” after a retreat, a period designed to help us take the meditation practice we’d cultivated into the “responsibility” sphere of mundane activities for the organization and in the wider world. We had spent a week striving with all our skill and concentration on the cushion to deepen our practice—we were exhausted—and now, of all things, we were being asked to do grounds work. While we may have groaned, many of us knew in our hearts that this was lucky. At least the attention required to do the work without tripping over ourselves would keep our minds on our bodies instead of spinning off into outer space. Nevertheless, when I was told to rake in grass seed and given the better part of an hour to get through a certain expanse of lawn, I began my task at a somewhat leisurely pace, confident I would work my way across the whole territory in the time allotted.

Then I saw Forall approaching. I stopped daydreaming to the best of my ability and set about looking as diligent as possible—head down, focused and methodically moving the rake up and down over a stretch of dirt in time with my breathing, spreading the clumps of seed around. My body tightened up as Forall made his way over to me. “What are you doing?” he asked. I told him. “Hm.” He frowned and told me that work practice should be done with vigor, that all the leftover energy I wasn’t putting into my work would turn into suffering.

Then he took the rake from my hands and began to demonstrate. It sounds ridiculous, but it was actually difficult to follow him with my eyes—he moved so quickly it was as if he had developed motion blur, seeming to vibrate across the surface of the lawn. He attacked the dirt with short, firm strokes, moving swiftly along a stretch of earth that would have taken me a minute or more at the pace I was setting. At one point the rake caught on a root, and without hesitation he pulled the rake sharply, taking the root with it and sending a plume of dirt into the air. Yet throughout this incredible feat he seemed to retain an expression of serene composure. His demonstration complete, he returned the rake to me. “Now you try.”

Equally inspired and intimidated, I threw myself in to the best of my ability—which meant at about half his speed, with a quarter of his precision. Within moments my hands hurt from gripping the rake so tightly, and I was sweating profusely. “Good!” he proclaimed, “Keep going! And lower your stance.” I bent my legs further and found I could bring more power into my strokes with less tension. I redoubled my efforts and continued while Forall left[went to his car] to get some items. I kept up the pace for another couple of minutes, during which time my whole body ached, my throat was parched, and my lungs felt like they were on fire. I remember I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I would like a drink of water. Right as he was coming back my way I was beginning to flag, and he shouted, “Why are you slowing down?” “I just need to catch my breath,” I panted as I slowed nearly to a halt. “That’s the LAST thing you need to do!” he proclaimed in passing. I grit my teeth and continued. It didn’t get any easier—but to my surprise, it didn’t really get any worse, either.

Eventually Forall left, at which point I slackened off somewhat. But I kept going with more energy and clarity of purpose than I had before he had arrived and finished my task with time to spare, giving me the opportunity to help one of the other working groups with their shoveling. I was especially fond of shoveling.

I had the opportunity to talk with Forall about this event months later. He said I did a good job, a solid C+ effort—which coming from him is no insult. I confessed that I couldn’t keep up the pace he set after he left. He had a knowing smile and didn’t seem upset.

Now I think he was offering another insight—namely, what a teacher is for. As I said, they can’t do your work for you. But there’s some way, which I don’t understand yet, in which they can make it possible for you to do your work for you. And if they don’t demonstrate the thing they ask of you, then the thing in you that can do that thing won’t respond.