The paradox of inspiration: expectations, disappointment, and the completeness of a nyinthun

By Lindsey Ibanez

I was inspired to offer a nyinthun at our center after we held our first-ever Sit-A-Thon to raise funds for our new building. The Sit-A-Thon had required months of planning and the efforts of dozens of people, as we kept the center open for 48 hours straight. For me, the opportunity to practice for such an extended period of time was a wonderful gift. More than fundraiser, it felt like a retreat.

Our Center used to hold nyinthuns, but in recent years they’d fallen away. In all-volunteer organizations such as ours, the things that get done are the projects people are most inspired to undertake. And our small group has been engaged in so many important activities – planning programs, raising funds for our new building – we’d forgotten about the nyinthun. But the Sit-A-Thon reignited my inspiration.

Inspiration is a funny thing; it drives much of what we do (especially the things we’re not getting paid for!), but the very notion of it implies some sort of expectation of outcome or reward. As practitioners, we look at that and try to let it go. But as the teachings tell us, our energy comes from longing, from desire. In the case of the nyinthun, I realized in hindsight I was longing for a retreat experience, for myself and others. Instead, I received a lesson about the completeness of situations as they are.

I’d never sat a nyinthun, but that didn’t stop me from having expectations about it. Subconsciously, I think I associated it with the Sit-A-Thon, and with the weekthuns I’d spent at Karme Choling. I thought the nyinthun would be a silent and somber day, softly lit and quietly uplifting. I thought it would run like clockwork, be well attended, and be infused with a sense of the sacred. It wasn’t really anything like that. We were a tiny group, and most people arrived late. None of us kept noble silence. I went home that evening feeling…normal.

If I was surprised by the quality of practice during the Sit-A-Thon, I was equally surprised by the ordinariness of the nyinthun. It’s a little embarrassing to admit that, after five years of meditating, I sometimes still have expectations about what’s going to happen when I practice. But I guess that’s why I sit – to practice examining my experience, then letting go. When I take the view that everything is practice, I don’t get caught up in disappointment.

The nyinthun also gave me the opportunity to watch my mind as it encountered the unfathomable minds of others. There are many artist-types and body-workers in my sangha; they speak in terms of feelings and experiences. They are always raving about lights and colors. As an academic, I speak in terms of observations and arguments, and I don’t think about my body unless something hurts. Sometimes I wonder if we hear each other. Sometimes I feel outnumbered and bewildered. But when we practice together, we are the same: we are buddhas. The nyinthun taught me that without the support of my sangha, I can’t accomplish much.

The nyinthun also reminded me of the importance of slowing down. Our lives are very busy. Meditation is a gift, but obstacles constantly arise. I keep coming back to that strange relationship between gentleness and discipline: discipline brings joy, and gentleness gives rise to contentment. These days, I can’t go on retreats whenever I want to. But this unfortunate circumstance had a positive outcome, because it inspired me to create practice opportunities at my Center. As a sociologist-in- training, I am deeply touched by the Sakyong’s emphasis on society. If we’re just a bunch of individuals who sit together sometimes but are looking out for ourselves, it doesn’t work.

Finally, the nyinthun was the fulfillment of my duties as a Shambhala Guide. For a sangha, meditation practice is our raison d’etre. Otherwise, we’re just another social club. And if we sing the praises of meditation while not meditating ourselves, we’re actually hypocrites. This situation will ultimately undercut all of our good intentions and activities. No matter what else we do, meditation is the basis of everything.

That is why I’ll keep planning nyinthuns: because meditation is important, and community is important too.