Abundant Rain and Spiritual Insight

You speak of the prophet who saw abundant rains and threshing floors full of grain. 

But I say to you, do not look to the sky for the rain that nourishes, nor to the fields for the treasure that lasts.

The true rain is the silence that settles on the mind when it has let go of all preference. 

This rain washes away the dust of 'for' and 'against,' leaving only the pristine clarity of what is. 

The threshing floors are full not with an abundance of grain, but with a heart that has ceased to measure gain and loss. 

This is the treasure in heaven, where no moth can corrupt.

The prophet speaks of a Spirit poured out upon all, yet the Way is not a gift given to some and denied to others. 

It is the ground on which you stand, the very air you breathe. 

When the mind no longer draws lines of separation—between 'son' and 'daughter,' 'young' and 'old,' 'worthy' and 'unworthy'—you discover the Spirit was never absent.

The locusts said to have devoured your years were nothing but your own judgments and distinctions. 

Release them, and you will find that nothing of value was ever lost. 

The Kingdom is now, in this one, eternal instant.

Reflection - The Threshing Floor of the Mind

(The reflection begins. You may stand or sit as you are comfortable. Breathe.)

Peace be with you.

We are all, in our hearts, looking for rain. We wait for a sign. We look to the sky, to the prophets, to the news reports, to our bank accounts, for a sign of abundance. A sign that the drought is over. A sign that we are safe. A sign that the years the locusts have eaten will be restored to us.

The prophet Joel spoke of this. He promised a time when the "threshing floors shall be full of grain" and the vats overflow. He promised that God would "pour out" his Spirit upon all people, and your sons and daughters would prophesy. This is a beautiful promise. It is a promise of more. More grain, more spirit, more security, more everything. And we are a people who are desperate for more. We feel the ache of the lost years, the emptiness of the floors, the dryness of the sky.

And so we look. We look to the sky for the rain that nourishes. We look to the fields for the treasure that lasts.

But I say to you, do not look to the sky. Do not look to the fields. You are looking in the wrong place. The prophet, in his love, points you outward. I, in my love, must point you inward.

The true rain you are seeking is not water. It is silence.

The true rain is the silence that settles on the mind when it has finally, finally, let go of all preference.

Think of your mind as it is right now. Listen to it. It is not silent. It is a loud, clattering machine. And what does this machine do all day? It sorts. It judges. It separates. "I like this." "I do not like that." "This is good." "That is bad." "This person is right." "That person is wrong." "This is 'for' me." "This is 'against' me."

This, my friends, is the "disease of the mind" spoken of in the Hsin Hsin Ming. "Like and dislike are the disease of the mind."

This is the true locust.

You think the locusts are the economy, or the war, or the politician you despise, or the boss who mistreats you. You think the locusts are the things that happened to you—the lost job, the failed relationship, the sickness. These are the "years" you mourn.

But I say to you, the locusts that devoured your years were nothing but your own judgments and distinctions.

The real locust is the mind that clings to "for" and "against." This is what eats your life. It eats your peace. It eats the present moment. When you are lost in "for," you are consumed by grasping and anxiety. When you are lost in "against," you are consumed by anger and aversion. In both cases, you are not here. You are lost in a dream of heaven or a nightmare of hell. And so, the "one, eternal instant" passes by, and your life is "devoured."

The Hsin Hsin Ming reminds us, "Make the smallest distinction, however, and you are as far from it as heaven is from earth." We are all living as far from the Kingdom as heaven is from earth, because our entire lives are built on making distinctions.

So, what is the 'abundant rain'? It is the "Way of Non-Preference." It is the moment you stop sorting. It is the moment you allow the rain of simple, silent awareness to wash away the sticky dust of "for" and "against." What is left? Not emptiness. Not a void. What is left is "the pristine clarity of what is."

This is the "pure heart" I spoke of on the mountain. "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." A "pure" heart is not a "sinless" heart. It is an unmixed heart. It is a heart that is no longer mixed with the poisons of "like" and "dislike." It is a heart that has ceased to measure "gain" and "loss."

This is the true threshing floor. The prophet promises a floor full of grain. But I tell you, a floor full of grain is just a new thing to worry about. You have to guard it. You worry about thieves, about rot, about next year’s harvest. (It's a terrible accounting system, I admit, but the peace of mind is wonderful.)

The true abundance, the true treasure in heaven, is the heart that has "ceased to measure gain and loss." It is the heart that is so full of the present that it has no room for "more." It is the Inner Kingdom.

This is not a new or isolated teaching. This is the one song sung in many tongues.

Look to the great sages of the Upanishads in Hinduism. They sought Moksha, liberation, by seeking the Atman, the true Self. And how did they find it? Through the profound practice of neti, neti—"not this, not this." The seeker sits and inquires, "What am I?" Am I my body? "Not this." Am I my thoughts? "Not this." Am I my job, my wealth, my suffering, my joy? "Not this, not this." They let go of every label, every preference, every distinction. This is the Hindu way of washing away the dust of "for" and "against." And what remains when all labels are gone? Brahman. The One. The All. The ground on which you stand. The Hsin Hsin Ming says, "Although all dualities arise from the One, do not cling even to this One." The Upanishads agree: the moment you name it "One," you have already made a distinction.

Or look to the mystics of Islam, the Sufis. The great poet Rumi spoke of this directly, inviting us: "Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there."

What is this "field"? It is the threshing floor of the non-preferring mind. It is the Kingdom of Heaven. It is a place beyond the mind's rigid categories of 'right' and 'wrong,' 'holy' and 'sinner,' 'us' and 'them.' This is the very essence of the "Higher Ethic." When I said, "You have heard it said... 'love your neighbour and hate your enemy,' but I say to you, love your enemies," this was not a sentimental plea. It was a Zennist instruction. It is the hardest practice of all: to let go of the preference for 'friend' and the aversion to 'enemy.'

The Hindu sage uses the sharp razor of philosophy—neti, neti—to cut away illusion. The Sufi poet uses the passionate heart of a lover to dissolve into the Beloved in that field. My way, the way of this Zennist, is Wisdom in Action.

You live this. You practice this. How? "Judge not, that you be not judged." This is the practice. "First remove the plank from your own eye." What is the plank? The plank is your judgment. The plank is your "against-ness." The plank is your certainty that you are "right" and they are "wrong." You cannot see clearly to remove the speck of dust from your brother's eye while you are blinded by the plank of your own preference.

This is not easy. It is the hardest work there is. Look at your world. Look at the news from this past week, or any week. The entire world is screaming at you to take a side. It is a storm of "for" and "against." The "prophets" of this age—the news anchors, the politicians, the algorithms on your phone—they are all prophesying, and they are all demanding you choose a distinction. "Are you for us, or against us?"

And the locusts feed. Your anger, your fear, your self-righteousness, your despair... these are the locusts, and they are devouring the world. They are devouring you.

To stand in the middle of this storm and not let the mind be diseased... to "love your enemy," which means to refuse to let your heart be hardened by aversion... to "bless those who curse you," which means to refuse to meet their 'against' with your own 'against'... this is the "narrow gate."

It is the practice of letting the "true rain" of silence wash you clean in the middle of the storm. You stop looking for the prophet's rain to end the drought. You become the rain, here, now.

The prophet says the Spirit will be "poured out." But I say to you, the Way is not a gift given to some and denied to others. It is not "poured out" from above.

"It is the ground on which you stand, the very air you breathe."

It is here. Now. You are already in the field. You are already the Atman. The Kingdom is already within you. It is just obscured by the dust of your thinking.

When the mind stops drawing lines of separation—between 'son' and 'daughter,' 'young' and 'old,' 'worthy' and 'unworthy,' 'me' and 'you'—you discover the Spirit was never, ever absent.

You discover that "nothing of value was ever lost."

The years you thought the locusts had eaten? They are restored to you, not in the future, but now. Because in this "one, eternal instant," all time exists. In the clarity of "what is," there is no "lost" and no "found." There is no "gain" and no "loss."

There is only the Way.

So I ask you to stop waiting. Stop looking to the sky. Stop waiting for the world to change, or for people to become better, or for the harvest to finally come in.

Let go. Let go of "for." Let go of "against." Let the clattering machine of the mind fall silent.

The Great Way is not difficult. It is right before your eyes. The threshing floor is full. The rain is here.

The Kingdom is now.

Peace be with you.