Participant Reflection Poem
from Sudhana Center Retreat 2025
Radical Freedom, Radical Responsibility
The main way I tend to bleed out qi--
or prana--
is through the mind.
Ruminating over social interactions I’ve just had.
Turning over each word, each glance.
Watching the to-do list grow longer after every conversation.
But on retreat, everything slowed.
We held noble silence--
except during classes
and morning, midday, and evening recitations.
There was no need to protect or perform a personality.
No eye contact expected.
No polite smiles needed.
We were gently relieved
of the usual social obligations.
And what a relief that was.
That alone felt like a redirecting of energy inward--
Back to observing the mind.
The body.
The deep grooves of habituation.
The schedule was fixed and repetitive--
A scaffolding of practice.
Like being in the cave:
every movement becomes sacred.
We did the same things every day.
And in that sameness,
I began to see the differences arising within.
Each of us was assigned a job early in the week.
And together,
we created a silent, efficient,
self-sustaining community.
At meals,
we were asked to take only what we would eat--
and invited to return for more,
if needed.
It was a surprisingly rich practice.
Hello craving.
Hello greed.
Hello the instant karmic feedback
of taking too much or too little.
In the first few days, I was deeply drowsy--
a sign of how much synthetic energy
I’d been using just to function.
But as the days went on,
qi began to gather,
and the mind started to settle.
The same recitations each day:
Mantras.
Passages from the Sūtras
on loving-kindness
and Prajñā Pāramitā.
Dedications of merit.
The practical and the esoteric,
filling the space of awareness.
Perfuming the whole of consciousness.
And all of it fueled by one desire:
To awaken.
So that we may actually be of service.
To meet others
in their unique karmic conditions,
and support their awakening, too.
This is the Bodhisattva path.
Oh, sweet and frustrating paradox:
We exist to help others--
And yet there is no solid self to be found.
No lasting thing to cling to.
No one here at all.
There are only seeds
arising from the silence and empty space,
and then a return back into it.
Only what is done
with the seeds we’ve already planted.
Choose wisely.
Every action—seen or unseen--
plants the seed for future conditions.
Each moment sets the stage
for wholesome or unwholesome ripening.
This is the nature
of karmic retribution.
Choose actions
that the wise will not later reprove.
Let your future self
bow in gratitude
for what is chosen
today.
And when unwholesome seeds sprout,
stay gently unattached.
Witness.
And don’t move--
not toward,
not away.
When you are in wanting,
you’ve already lost.
We are exercising,
in Chan,
the subtle muscles
that create space
between awareness--
the witness--
and the reaction
to the arising seed.
We are training stillness
between the pull of karma
and the motion of mind.
We are witnessing
and collapsing
the wave function
of individuality.
Fundamental nonattainment.
Nothing to negate.
Nothing to affirm.
Just the illusion seen for what it is--
and let go.
The main way I tend to bleed out qi--
or prana--
is through the mind.
Ruminating over social interactions I’ve just had.
Turning over each word, each glance.
Watching the to-do list grow longer after every conversation.
But on retreat, everything slowed.
We held noble silence--
except during classes
and morning, midday, and evening recitations.
There was no need to protect or perform a personality.
No eye contact expected.
No polite smiles needed.
We were gently relieved
of the usual social obligations.
And what a relief that was.
That alone felt like a redirecting of energy inward--
Back to observing the mind.
The body.
The deep grooves of habituation.
The schedule was fixed and repetitive--
A scaffolding of practice.
Like being in the cave:
every movement becomes sacred.
We did the same things every day.
And in that sameness,
I began to see the differences arising within.
Each of us was assigned a job early in the week.
And together,
we created a silent, efficient,
self-sustaining community.
At meals,
we were asked to take only what we would eat--
and invited to return for more,
if needed.
It was a surprisingly rich practice.
Hello craving.
Hello greed.
Hello the instant karmic feedback
of taking too much or too little.
In the first few days, I was deeply drowsy--
a sign of how much synthetic energy
I’d been using just to function.
But as the days went on,
qi began to gather,
and the mind started to settle.
The same recitations each day:
Mantras.
Passages from the Sūtras
on loving-kindness
and Prajñā Pāramitā.
Dedications of merit.
The practical and the esoteric,
filling the space of awareness.
Perfuming the whole of consciousness.
And all of it fueled by one desire:
To awaken.
So that we may actually be of service.
To meet others
in their unique karmic conditions,
and support their awakening, too.
This is the Bodhisattva path.
Oh, sweet and frustrating paradox:
We exist to help others--
And yet there is no solid self to be found.
No lasting thing to cling to.
No one here at all.
There are only seeds
arising from the silence and empty space,
and then a return back into it.
Only what is done
with the seeds we’ve already planted.
Choose wisely.
Every action—seen or unseen--
plants the seed for future conditions.
Each moment sets the stage
for wholesome or unwholesome ripening.
This is the nature
of karmic retribution.
Choose actions
that the wise will not later reprove.
Let your future self
bow in gratitude
for what is chosen
today.
And when unwholesome seeds sprout,
stay gently unattached.
Witness.
And don’t move--
not toward,
not away.
When you are in wanting,
you’ve already lost.
We are exercising,
in Chan,
the subtle muscles
that create space
between awareness--
the witness--
and the reaction
to the arising seed.
We are training stillness
between the pull of karma
and the motion of mind.
We are witnessing
and collapsing
the wave function
of individuality.
Fundamental nonattainment.
Nothing to negate.
Nothing to affirm.
Just the illusion seen for what it is--
and let go.
