Dear Sangha,
Couldn't sleep this morning. I woke at something like 3:40 am. Sometimes I can read myself back to sleep, so I grabbed a copy of the Shambala Sun that was sitting near my bed.
I can't tell you the mental path that got me to this place, but I decided that chanting the three refuges would be a nice way to finish lulling myself to sleep. This chant (which is the only chant I know in Pali because it's ridiculously easy) essentially says that I take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha. What this means for me is that I can rest myself in the recognition of the existence of the Buddha, the wisdom he enumerates, and the community of others.
Different times have yielded different reactions to the recognition of these refuges. As with any nugget of wisdom, where I am and what I am in process with informs the insights that result from its examination.
I want you to know that you, sangha, were the thing that drew my attention. I was thinking about what a basket case I've been with you for the last few months and I've been feeling kind of bad about it. When I needed to work out some serious crap, I spread it all over your Rohatsu sesshin, making you all look for the "benefits" and "gifts" in my fidgety, emotionally volatile disruptiveness. When I started my constitutional homeopathic remedy, you got the day where my ability to govern my focus and communication abilities went so far off base that I felt like I had ADD, interrupting and acting distracted when you tried to tell me of your pain or your personal journey.
I want you to know that it's a compliment to you. It is, as it turns out, your own fault. You created a good, strong container that I was able to use as the crucible to burn away my most recent layers of pain. You made a place where I felt safe, allowing me to blow through some less than attractive processes.
I'm afraid that you may be stuck with me for a while. The best way I can think of to thank you is by helping to maintain that container for others, giving back as good as I got. Thanks for the refuge.
Never did get back to sleep.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Who is Number 1?
I was listening to a program today about memory. One of the topics was a woman who has unusual memory skills in that she can remember in deep detail any event that was of interest to her. This could be her 13th birthday, or the day a foreign leader was assassinated. Everything from exact date and times, to conversations, feelings and incidental details was completely accessible to her. She still needs to take notes at meetings, write out grocery lists, and keep a calendar. It is only the times surrounding these incidents (and they apparently are legion) of which she has perfect recall.
One of the researchers discussing her said that she is "both the warden and the prisoner of her memories". By this, he means that she has the gift of being able to recall in rich detail her fondest moments, but she is unable to forget any incident that might have marred them. Unlike most of us, she cannot leave out the unpleasant parts and forget any associated slights.
This made me think that we all can be seen to be both the keeper and the captive of our memory. Memory is (evolutionarily) designed to be about the future, not the past. We have memory so that we can remember where the berry bushes are, and which water hole has bad water. It reminds us that fire is hot and that there is often a speed trap at that stretch of road a few blocks up. Memories exist to provide the benefit of learning to provide a pool of knowledge regarding outside forces and, as importantly, the consequences of our own behavior.
The bonus feature is that we can reminisce - think back on past pleasant experiences in order to relive the positive feelings that they invoked. The curse of memory is that along with the ability to reminisce, it can trap us in our past. I have seen people use "memory" as a handy catch-all for their personal issues. Unlike the woman in the memory study, most of us have imperfect memories that allow us to edit them in ways that support our present assumptions or behaviors.
Even if our memory of an event is relatively unsullied, how much do we look to them for excuses for our own behavior. Felt insulted or ignored by someone? Still holding on to that? I deeply hope and pray that the many times I have spoken thoughtlessly or behaved in a scattered or disrespectful manner are not being carefully catalogued and recalled.
The questions to ask are, "Is it a lesson to learn from or a grudge to carry? Is this genuinely serving me now and in my future? " If not, it's your keeper not your ward.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Roast Beef, Bruce Lee and More
Yeah. I know. I've been gone; really, really gone for a long time. It's something that when I started this blog I SWORE I wouldn't do.
Well I'm back now.
Cautionary tales:
#1
A guru at an ashram had a cat who was a welcome member of the community except that during meditation periods, the cat would pester and rub against everyone. So before each meditation session, the guru would tie the cat to a pole outside. Pretty soon, people began to believe that tying the cat to the pole was a ritual of import and significance and when the cat died, they were bereft since they could no longer continue the ritual. (Gratitude to Elizabeth Gilbert.)
#2
There is a particular martial arts style which uses distinct elbow techniques, kicks, and footwork. This technique has been passed down from teacher to student in toto as a masterful and complete system. It turns out that the original teacher of this technique had one arm that ended at the elbow and a club foot. Here were a whole group of students who were learning to fight with a missing arm and a club foot.
#2A
Universally venerated martial artist Bruce Lee was known for his high jumps and kicks. This led his admirers to perceive a qualitative difference between moving high and moving low. Lee's style was dictated by the inflexibility that resulted from a broken ankle.
#3
(Probably apocryphal, but often told) A woman always cut the ends off of her roast before putting it in the roasting pan. One day someone asked her why she did it. "Why, don't you?" she answered. Finding out she was singular in her roasting technique, she declared, "My mother always did it." So, she called her mother asked why she always cut the ends off her roasts. Mom told her that it was simply because her pan was always too small.
Think of these examples and pay attention to that which you believe to be true. What are you taking at face value? Does this set of circumstances, expectations and rules fit you?
Does it call to question how much you should trust? That everything should be questioned? That's not the lesson I'm asking you to see. I firmly believe that sometimes it's okay just to trust. Only through sacrificing yourself to trust can you delve deeply enough into an experience to see what the inherent value is. It's also where you can often find enough information to ask the hard questions, to find out where you might find some reward in moving toward adopting and where you'd be taking on someone else's concept of the ideal.
Well I'm back now.
Cautionary tales:
#1
A guru at an ashram had a cat who was a welcome member of the community except that during meditation periods, the cat would pester and rub against everyone. So before each meditation session, the guru would tie the cat to a pole outside. Pretty soon, people began to believe that tying the cat to the pole was a ritual of import and significance and when the cat died, they were bereft since they could no longer continue the ritual. (Gratitude to Elizabeth Gilbert.)
#2
There is a particular martial arts style which uses distinct elbow techniques, kicks, and footwork. This technique has been passed down from teacher to student in toto as a masterful and complete system. It turns out that the original teacher of this technique had one arm that ended at the elbow and a club foot. Here were a whole group of students who were learning to fight with a missing arm and a club foot.
#2A
Universally venerated martial artist Bruce Lee was known for his high jumps and kicks. This led his admirers to perceive a qualitative difference between moving high and moving low. Lee's style was dictated by the inflexibility that resulted from a broken ankle.
#3
(Probably apocryphal, but often told) A woman always cut the ends off of her roast before putting it in the roasting pan. One day someone asked her why she did it. "Why, don't you?" she answered. Finding out she was singular in her roasting technique, she declared, "My mother always did it." So, she called her mother asked why she always cut the ends off her roasts. Mom told her that it was simply because her pan was always too small.
Think of these examples and pay attention to that which you believe to be true. What are you taking at face value? Does this set of circumstances, expectations and rules fit you?
Does it call to question how much you should trust? That everything should be questioned? That's not the lesson I'm asking you to see. I firmly believe that sometimes it's okay just to trust. Only through sacrificing yourself to trust can you delve deeply enough into an experience to see what the inherent value is. It's also where you can often find enough information to ask the hard questions, to find out where you might find some reward in moving toward adopting and where you'd be taking on someone else's concept of the ideal.
Monday, December 8, 2008
The Cauldron of Transformation
Thought I knew what that was. Turned out I didn't have any idea until now. Five days of sitting, walking (barely - about a foot a minute), sitting, bowing, sitting, oryoki (ritual eating), bowing, sitting, walking, (drink tea, go to the bathroom, sit in a real chair) sitting, bowing, sitting walking.....you get the idea. Physically, emotionally, mentally rigorous.
It burns away everything until you can begin to touch the space between the notes, and then contemplate the possibility that there are no notes.
Drove my car home at about 18 mph. Granted, it was slippery, but that just made me not look like an idiot for driving home at 18 mph. Seemed fast to me.
Rohastu Sesshin Day 3 Haiku:
A figure of stone
Scoured and worn by wind and sand
Each breath sets me free
Rohastus Sesshin Day 4:
At 5:30 am I watched the snow skitter across the lake ice.
I wanted to write a poem.
Something about how the wind blew snow ghosts across the thin, hard ice,
while underneath, the water lay still;
dark, deep and liquid.
Then the dawn broke
and I could see that the waves had shattered the night's ice,
and what I had seen was the surface of the lake
rippled by the wind.
Good thing I didn't write that poem.
Rohastu Sesshin Day 5 Haiku:
We sit in Zazen
Never knowing we are there
The snow buries us.
Gassho.
It burns away everything until you can begin to touch the space between the notes, and then contemplate the possibility that there are no notes.
Drove my car home at about 18 mph. Granted, it was slippery, but that just made me not look like an idiot for driving home at 18 mph. Seemed fast to me.
Rohastu Sesshin Day 3 Haiku:
A figure of stone
Scoured and worn by wind and sand
Each breath sets me free
Rohastus Sesshin Day 4:
At 5:30 am I watched the snow skitter across the lake ice.
I wanted to write a poem.
Something about how the wind blew snow ghosts across the thin, hard ice,
while underneath, the water lay still;
dark, deep and liquid.
Then the dawn broke
and I could see that the waves had shattered the night's ice,
and what I had seen was the surface of the lake
rippled by the wind.
Good thing I didn't write that poem.
Rohastu Sesshin Day 5 Haiku:
We sit in Zazen
Never knowing we are there
The snow buries us.
Gassho.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
The Cosmic Downloads
A couple of years ago I took some advice from my clients and went out a limb. For years during my sessions with clients, I got "cosmic downloads" (or so I dubbed them). I would suddenly find myself in possession of knowledge that I had not had moments before, and this information presented itself somewhat insistently. Finally, some clients convinced me that people wanted this knowledge and I should let it fly. So far, they've been right about that 99.9% of the time.
I have to say that there are times that I struggle with this, but I've gotten better at trusting my instincts and knowing what is information to share or not. Then it usually becomes a matter of proper timing and framing of the information that is the source of my quandary. These "downloads" come in a kind of mental short-hand. This short hand generally comes in one of two categories: Metaphor and Catch-phrase.
When information shows up as metaphors, it is some sort of image or abstraction that encompasses a larger concept. I am always aware that this image is one that I've created as a way of conveying a large idea to myself, so I have to analyze what it means to me and then translate. This sounds like a long and distracting process, but it happens pretty naturally and readily. Not every metaphor is universal and so if I'm going to share the metaphor, I'd better have either a couple of back-up images that round it out, a more universal metaphor, or an explanation of the existing one.
In the case of the "catch-phrase" downloads, if I just blurted them out in the way that they arrive, they would come across as, at best, flip. At worst, they would come out as blunt or even harsh. The concepts behind them are much more nuanced than they initially seem (as they are, as stated, a kind of short-hand), so I must flesh them out into what they really mean, not what they sound or feel like.
This all is laying ground for the next topic, which I'll save that for tomorrow since it's introducing a whole new concept.
I have to say that there are times that I struggle with this, but I've gotten better at trusting my instincts and knowing what is information to share or not. Then it usually becomes a matter of proper timing and framing of the information that is the source of my quandary. These "downloads" come in a kind of mental short-hand. This short hand generally comes in one of two categories: Metaphor and Catch-phrase.
When information shows up as metaphors, it is some sort of image or abstraction that encompasses a larger concept. I am always aware that this image is one that I've created as a way of conveying a large idea to myself, so I have to analyze what it means to me and then translate. This sounds like a long and distracting process, but it happens pretty naturally and readily. Not every metaphor is universal and so if I'm going to share the metaphor, I'd better have either a couple of back-up images that round it out, a more universal metaphor, or an explanation of the existing one.
In the case of the "catch-phrase" downloads, if I just blurted them out in the way that they arrive, they would come across as, at best, flip. At worst, they would come out as blunt or even harsh. The concepts behind them are much more nuanced than they initially seem (as they are, as stated, a kind of short-hand), so I must flesh them out into what they really mean, not what they sound or feel like.
This all is laying ground for the next topic, which I'll save that for tomorrow since it's introducing a whole new concept.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Obligatory Election Day Posting
Did you vote today? Here in Minnesota we are usually the state with the highest voter turn-out; generally close to 80%. We may have close to 90% today.
Minnesotans celebrate their ability to vote in a way that tickles me. When we had caucuses in the cold this year, the line in my district (at least for the DFL caucus) went down the hall, out the building, through the parking lot and around the corner. People would come and stop and ask, "Is this the line for the caucus?" When we'd say yes they'd say, "Cooool," and trip merrily to the end of the line.
That's another weird/cool thing about Minnesota. We don't have a Democratic Party, we have the Democratic/Farm/Labor Party. Lotta Socialists settled here. We may have elected a professional wrestler to the governor's office, but we never voted for Reagan.
Go Vote.
Minnesotans celebrate their ability to vote in a way that tickles me. When we had caucuses in the cold this year, the line in my district (at least for the DFL caucus) went down the hall, out the building, through the parking lot and around the corner. People would come and stop and ask, "Is this the line for the caucus?" When we'd say yes they'd say, "Cooool," and trip merrily to the end of the line.
That's another weird/cool thing about Minnesota. We don't have a Democratic Party, we have the Democratic/Farm/Labor Party. Lotta Socialists settled here. We may have elected a professional wrestler to the governor's office, but we never voted for Reagan.
Go Vote.
Monday, October 27, 2008
A Clay Jug Full of Canyons
Today was prop up your good friends day, which I am always more than happy to do. One of the people who needed propping was really at the end of her rope already when she had some old, icky business rear it's head.
"I thought I was done with this! I thought it was out of my life and I wouldn't have to deal with it anymore!" When she was done with her well-deserved freak out, I told her that now I was going to "go all Buddhist on her ass." And proceeded to do so. The reason I did was that what she said clearly resonated for me with what was on my mind with yesterday's post.
Kabir wrote about the clay jug which can contain mountains and canyons and the tools we need to test our mettle (or metal), because we contain everything. All our experiences, every lake we've gazed at, every leaf we've raked, every eclipse we've watched, they exist inside and outside us. We contain them entirely. No matter how many things we make part of our experience, part of us, there is infinite space left.
The upshot of this is that we cannot leave behind our experiences as we contain them, but that bad relationship, tragically embarrassing experience, or profoundly moving moment mean no more, or more less than that moon, that canyon, that raked leaf. They all just are.
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