Never Too Busy

I knew this day would come—the deadline to finish this message for the newsletter. I even squeezed a reminder on to my calendar, writing the tiny notation in purple ink between other duties for the day. At the time, it didn’t seem necessary to prompt myself, but marking it down usually gets the wheels turning so that the message practically writes itself by time my fingers hit the keyboard. Yet somehow, between then and now, the spacious days of summer filled with other demands and now my mind is stalling. Let me unabashedly share an unskillful reaction when overwhelmed with a busy mind: to get even busier—not in a focused way, but by blindly running about in all directions. I do not recommend this course of action, for it results in the opposite of peace and tranquility.

During the writing of the above paragraph, I’ve gone downstairs to put in another load of laundry, inspected the contents of the refrigerator, spoken with my husband, played with the dog, re-arranged the piles of “things to do” on my desk, checked my e-mail, and looked up some notes from my seminary days in Kyoto. I couldn’t find what I was looking for, but did end up indulging in a nostalgic review of some of the sage lessons of my teachers, who often admonished us to pay attention because once we became ministers, we would be too busy to spend as much time as we wanted to study.

The lesson I was looking for involved the etymology of the Japanese character for “busy” (isogashii). I remember our propagation teacher, Yamamoto-sensei, writing it on the board and breaking down its components. The word looks like this 忙 and it is made up of two characters. On the left is a variation of this 心 which you might recognize as kokoro or shin, meaning “heart/mind.” The component on the right 亡 means “die, escape, or lose.” So, the character for “busy” could literally mean lost mind or dead heart or some combination thereof. On reflection, isn’t this what happens to us when we are busy? In the mental jumble of busy-ness, we lose track of our heart/mind and are no longer really present. Unwholesome busy-ness seems to happen in two ways. Either we’re doggedly running toward perceived happiness, comfort, and a sense of well-being but never get there, as when our work overtakes the whole point of working; or we’re madly rushing to escape discomfort, only to amass more as the root of our dis-ease remains unacknowledged while we just keep busy. Either way, even as we believe we are in control, our appreciation for life is spinning away from us.

Yes, we have a lot of things to do, but we can only do one thing at a time really well. Reflect on how you feel when you’ve been really focused on what you were doing. As I’ve noted in the past, multi-tasking is not an asset for a real quality life. Something important gets lost in the mindless scramble to get things done—for example, truly giving our full attention to someone, or remembering that the original reason for doing something was a benevolent one.

Heart/mind frenzy can be brutish or subtle. We do need to pay attention to avoid getting hooked and carried away. It makes sense that the character for “mindfulness/thinking intently” is 念 consisting of 今, “now”, and 心, “heart/mind.” When we wear our wrist nenju (mindfulness beads), it is to help us to remember to be aware not only of what is going on in our heart/minds in the present moment, but also of the kindness and beauty of life right here, right now. In seeing our true selves, we are brought to realize that we are not yet Buddhas—awakened to the peace of truth-reality, to things-as-they-are. Indeed, we are incapable of responding adequately to the needs of everyone and everything all at once. No need to feel out of kilter. Simply remember that whether we are skillful or unskillful, frantic or calm, ignorant or wise, the heart that never dies is the unconditional compassion that is given to us just as we are. Mindful of this, we say the Nembutsu (念仏) of gratitude as we reflect on our Oneness with Great Life, Amida Buddha, that is never too busy for us. Namo Amida Butsu.

Gassho,

Rev. Patricia Usuki