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Leaving the Shore of Illusion

By Leslie Davis

In the Plum Village Buddhist tradition of Thich Nhat Hanh, during our sitting meditation in the late afternoon, we recite an Evening Chant:

With upright and steady posture,
We sit at the feet of the Bodhi Tree.
Body, speech, and mind are one, in stillness;
There are no more thoughts of right and wrong.
Our mind and body rest in perfect mindfulness.
We discover our original nature by leaving the shore of illusion behind.
Noble Sangha, diligently bring your mind to meditation.
Namo Shakyamunaye Buddhaya

One line always stands out to me: “We discover our original nature by leaving the shore of illusion behind.” What? Leave the shore of illusion? Who said anything about leaving? I wanted to stay on that shore, pitch my tent there, lie in the sun, and have a wonderful time. I preferred to leave the shore of reality behind and settle comfortably on the island of delusion.

As a child, I relied on my ability to create a safe place in my mind to escape reality because I didn't feel safe in my world. My alcoholic father left home when I was ten, but he kept showing up without warning. I dreaded weekends because I never knew if or when he would appear, hoping we would spend time together and pretend to be a happy family again.

When he came, he watched TV all day, filling the room with cigarette smoke and the smell of beer. I sat with him feeling trapped and escaped to a place in my mind where parents took their daughters on hikes, to beaches and camping trips. Daydreaming, fantasizing, planning, imagining, and worrying quickly became my reliable and ever-present ally.

As an adult, I developed a deep fear of the future. I always wanted to know what would happen next. I thought my anxiety could be eased if I had all the facts, all the information. When I became a mother, I developed a deep fear of the present. How could I stay home with my two small children and be present for them without slipping into my fantasies or alternate realities?

After meditating for several years, I learned that daydreaming creates a false sense of hope for a past or future that isn't real. I had to work hard to develop a sitting and walking meditation practice, because daydreaming was my default, my comfort zone, and my best survival skill.

Over time I developed a very strong relationship with my breath. I found a steadiness of mind that helped me stay in the present moment. If I don't pay attention to my breath, my mind escapes to the nearest fantasy or creates a new one to cling to. When I'm with my breath, I don't need to flee from reality. When I'm with my breath, I can handle what is.

When we connect with our breath, we have the opportunity to discover our original nature, our truest self. Fantasies and mental distractions melt away. This awareness brings us to here and now, the opposite of illusion.

The shore of illusion is a deceiver. It makes us think we're safe on its edge. In truth, if we learn to trust our breath and connect with the present moment, we can leave the shore of illusion behind, finding our true home in ourselves, a place where we are always safe.

Originally published at lionsroar.com