Mindful Swimming with Chie Cross
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In whatever solitary place you are,

Crossing the legs in the supreme manner,

Aligning the body,

And thus being
attended by mindfulness that is directed

Towards the tip of the nose
or towards the forehead,

Or right in between the eyebrows,

You can let the inconstant mind

Be fully engaged with the fundamental.

If some desirous idea, a fever of the mind,

Should venture to offend you,

Entertain no scent of it but shake it off

As if pollen had landed on your robe.

Even if, through insight,

You have dropped off desires,

You must, as if lighting up darkness,

Abolish them by means of their opposite.

What lies behind them sleeps on,

Like a fire covered with ashes;

You are to extinguish it, my friend,
by the means of mental cultivation,

As if using water to put out a fire.

For from that source they re-emerge,

Like shoots from a seed.

In its absence they would be no more --

Like shoots in the absence of a seed.

Witness troubles, such as acquisition,

Arising from the desires of men of desire,

And on that basis cut off at root those desires

Which are akin to enemies, whose name is "friend."

Desires which are fleeting, which are bringers of privation,

Which are flighty, the causes of wagging to and fro,

And which are common,

Are to be dealt with like poisonous snakes --

The chasing of which leads to trouble,

The keeping of which does not conduce to peace,

And the losing of which makes for great anguish.

Securing them brings no contentment.

Satisfaction through extra-ordinary wealth,

Success through the gaining of paradise,

And happiness born from desires:

He who sees these things comes to nothing.

With regard to changeable, unformed,

Insubstantial and ungrounded desires,

Which are presumed to bring happiness,

You, being here and now, need pay no heed to them.

If hatred or cruelty

Should stir up your mind,

Let it be charmed by their opposite,

As turbid water by a jewel.

Know their opposite

To be kindness and compassion;

For this opposition is forever

Like brightness and darkness.

He in whom wrongdoing has been given up

And yet hatred carries on,

Hits himself with dust

Like an elephant after a good bath.

Upon mortal beings who are pained

By sickness, dying, aging, and the rest,

What noble person with human warmth

Would lay the utmost pain?

Again, the other may or may not be pained

By a mind here and now that is tainted;

But instantly burned up in this moment

Is the man of tainted consciousness's own mind.

On this basis, towards all beings,

It is kindness and compassion,

Not hatred or cruelty,

That you should opt for.

For whatever continually

A human being thinks,

In that direction, through habit,

The mind of this person veers.

Therefore disregarding what is not helpful

Focus on what is helpful,

Which might be valuable for you here and now

And might be for the reaching of ultimate value.

For unhelpful thoughts carried in the heart

Densely grow,

Producing in equal measure nothing of value

For the self and for the other.

Because they make obstacles on the better path,

They lead to the falling apart of the self;

And because they undermine the worthy condition,

They lead to the falling apart of the other's trust.

Concentration during activities of the mind,

You should practise as well.

But above all, my friend, nothing unhelpful

Should you think.

That anxious thought of enjoying the three desires

Which churns in the mind

Does not meet with merit,

But produces bondage.

Tending to cause offence to living beings

And torment for oneself,

Disturbed thinking becomes delusion

And leads to hell.

With unhelpful thoughts, therefore,

You should not mar your self

-- Which is a good sword and bejewelled --

As if you were digging the earth, spattered with mud.

Just as an ignoramus

Might burn as firewood the best aloes,

So would one, wrong-headedly,

Waste this state of being human.

Again, just as he might leave the jewel

And carry from the jewel-island a clod,

So would one leave the dharma that leads to happiness

And think evil.

Just as he might go to the Himālayas

And eat not herbs but poison,

So would one arrive at being a human being

And do not good but harm.

Being awake to this, you must,
by antagonistic means,

See off thought

As if using a finely-honed counter-wedge

To drive a wedge from a cleft in a log.

Should there be anxiety, then,

About whether or not your family is prospering,

Investigate the nature of the world of the living

In order to put a stop to it.

Among beings dragged by our own doing

Through the cycle of saṁsāra

Who are our own people, and who are other people?

It is through ignorance that people attach to people.

For one who turned on a bygone road

Into a relative, is a stranger to you;

And a stranger, on a road to come,

Will become your relative.

Just as birds in the evening

Flock together at separate locations,

So is the mingling over many generations

Of one's own and other people.

Just as, under any old roof,

Travellers shelter together

And go again their separate ways,

So are relatives joined.

In this originally shattered world

Nobody is the beloved of anybody.

Held together by cause and effect,

Humankind is like sand in a clenched fist.

For mother cherishes son

Thinking "He will keep me,"

And son honours mother

Thinking "She in her womb bore me."

As long as relatives act agreeably

Towards each other,

They engender affection;

But otherwise it is enmity.

A close relation is demonstrably unfriendly;

A stranger proves to be a friend.

By the different things they do,

Folk break and make affection.

Just as an artist, all by himself,

Might fall in love with a woman he painted,

So, each generating attachment by himself,

Do people become attached to one another.

The relation who was,

In another life, so dear to you:

What use to you is he?

What use to him are you?

With thoughts about close relatives, therefore,

You should not obsess the mind.

There is no abiding difference, in the flux of saṁsāra,

Between one's own people and people in general.

"That country is an easy place to live;

That one is well-provisioned; that one is happy."

If there should arise

Any such idea in you,

You are to give it up, my friend:

And not entertain it in any way,

Knowing the whole world to be blazing

With the manifold fires of the faults.

Again, from the turning of the circle of the seasons,

And from hunger, thirst and fatigue,

Everywhere suffering is the rule.

Not somewhere is happiness found.

Here cold, there heat,

Here disease, there danger

Oppresses humanity in the extreme.

The world, therefore, has no place of refuge.

Aging, sickness and death

Are the great terror of this world.

There is no place where

That terror does not arise.

Where this body goes

There suffering follows.

There is no way in the world

On which, being in movement, one is not afflicted.

Even an area that is pleasant,

Abundant in provisions, and safe,

Should be regarded as a deprived area

Where burn the fires of affliction.

In this world beset

By hardships physical and mental,

There is no cosy place

To which one might go and be at ease.

While suffering, everywhere and for everyone,

Continues at every moment.

You are not to enthuse, my friend,

Over the world's shimmering images.

When your enthusiasm

Is turned back from all that,

The whole living world

You will deem to be, as it were, on fire.

Any idea you might have, then,

That has to do with not dying,

Is, with an effort of will, to be obliterated

As a disorder of your whole being.

Not a moment of trust

Is to be placed in life,

For, like a tiger lying in wait,

Time slays the unsuspecting.

That "I am young," or "I am strong,"

Should not occur to you:

Death kills in all situations

Without regard for sprightliness.

As he drags about that field of misfortunes

Which is a body,

Expectations of well-being or of continuing life

Do not arise in one who is observant.

Who could be complacent carrying around a body

Which is a receptacle for the elements

Like a basket full of snakes

Each opposed to another?

That a man draws breath

And next time around breathes in again,

Know to be a wonder,

For staying alive is nothing to breathe easy about.

Here is another wonder:

That one who was asleep wakes up

Or, having been up, goes back to sleep;

For many enemies has the owner of a body.

He who stalks humankind, from the womb onwards,

With murderous intent:

Who can breath easy about him? -- Death!

Like an enemy with sword upraised.

No man born into the world,

However endowed with learning and power,

Ever defeats Death, maker of ends,

Nor has ever defeated him, nor ever will defeat him.

For cajoling, bribing, dividing,

Or the use of force or restraint,

When impetuous Death has arrived,

Are powerless to beat him back.

So place no trust

In teetering life,

For Time is always carrying it off

And does not wait for old age.

Seeing the world to be without substance,

Fragile as a water-bubble,

What man of sound mind

Could harbour the notion of not dying?

So for the giving up,

In short, of all these ideas,

Mindfulness of inward and outward breathing, my friend,

You should make into your own possession.

Using this device

You should take in good time

Counter-measures against ideas,

Like remedies against illnesses.

Just as a dirt-washer who is after gold

Washes away first the coarse grains of dirt,

Then the finer granules, so that the material is cleansed,

And by the cleansing he retains the rudiments of gold,

So one whose mind is ready, having the motive of release,

Lets go first of the gross faults,

Then of the subtler ones, so that his mind is cleansed,

And by the cleansing he retains the rudiments of dharma.

Just as gold, washed with water,
is separated from dirt in this world, methodically,

And just as the smith heats the gold in the fire
and repeatedly turns it over,

Just so is the practitioner's mind, with delicacy and accuracy,
separated from faults in this world,

And just so, after cleansing it from afflictions,
does the practitioner temper the mind and collect it.

Again, just as the smith brings gold to a state where he can work it easily

In as many ways as he likes into all kinds of ornaments,

So too a beggar of cleansed mind tempers his mind,

And directs his yielding mind among the powers of knowing,
as he wishes and wherever he wishes.

The 15th canto in the epic poem Handsome Nanda, titled "Abandoning Ideas."

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