The Slopes of the Mind

Series: Summer in the Mountains

The Slopes of the Mind

I really like the mountains in the summer. It’s usually cooler there than at the beach, and the air is fresher. As I sit comfortably in the cable car taking me to the summit, I think to myself how convenient it is to climb 2,000 meters in just a few minutes, effortlessly and mechanically.

We often forget just how comfortable our lives have become compared to those of our grandparents. We also forget how accustomed our minds have become to this comfort, and how we often neglect the importance of effort out of habit. Of course, this isn’t universal across the globe, but it’s nonetheless a growing tendency. In the Dzogchen tradition, it is often said that there is “no effort.” Since the nature of our mind is always present in its perfect form, if our vision is clear and unobstructed, it is already at the summit and, with a single glance, embraces the entire valley of the mind. It doesn’t need a mechanical lift.

 “The advantage of the slopes of the mind is understanding that the steepness of the slope is an illusion (…)” 

However, if it isn’t clear—if it’s clouded by our little worries and our depressed moods on one hand, and our tendency toward comfort and forgetfulness on the other—then we need to go for a little hike, to climb back up the slope on foot, with our summer skis (for grass) on our backs. This is called “acquiring discipline” and, just like in sports, it requires training. So I’m taking lessons on how to climb the slope and descend it. I’ll pace this effort and adapt it to my physical condition. If, for example, I spend my life sitting with my head bent over a screen, I know I won’t be able to immediately engage in intense physical activity, and that it could even be dangerous. So I’ll build my discipline through small, consistent efforts that will eventually become natural.

The slopes of the mind will gradually become accessible to me: effort will become discipline, discipline will become integration, integration will become a natural reflex, and finally, effortlessness will be attained. From then on, I’ll be able to ascend and descend the slopes of the mind as I please and admire the view whenever I feel like it, whether by walking back up mechanically… or by not going back up at all.

The advantage of the slopes of the mind is understanding that the steepness of the slope is an illusion and that the ascent and descent can take place in the same place, within the vision itself. One day, you come to fully understand this. But that will be someday, I tell myself as I climb down from the cable car and strap on my skis on the grass.