Our mind can sometimes be a useful tool. We depend on it to help us navigate the complexities of this human life. It has been my experience that it works well when given lots of time and a calm platform on which to perform. However, when emotions are particularly intense, it is exceedingly inadequate. It just screams bad advice and doubt in our tired lives.
If my intention is not to blame, control, analyze, withdraw or try harder, then my mind is left speechless. This is the only conversation the brain can engage in. It is boring, unskilful and of no use to find peace in our lives.
This is exactly how I would like my mind to be right now in my life. Speechless.
With the intention of expanding speechlessness, I have been exploring the five questions proposed by Ezra Baydo in his book on Zen.
These questions are designed to help short circuit the minds attempt to generate the mental noise that keeps us from running in circles around ourselves as to never meet ourselves. How can we have compassion and practice kindness to ourselves without ever being able to sit and have tea with our truth.
The first question that I explored was "What is this?" Not "Why is this?" The "why" question is the victim question that the brain loves to play around with and leads us nowhere. That is the question that generates all the thoughts that keep us away from our life. The "what is this" question is actually a Zen koan, in that it can't be answered by the thinking mind. The only answer comes from entering directly into the immediate, physical experience of the present moment. This place is actually our life and where we live. The "why" question takes us to the past and the future, where we do not live. The "what" question helps us arrive at the present moment which is where are life really is.
This retreat from the frantic mental energy generated by the need to scramble to safe ground whenever an intense sensation visits us, was amazingly helpful. It points the way to understanding and managing these feelings. Much gratitude to all my teachers for this wonderful tool. I have been able to get closer to the edge where the thoughts meet the body. When bodily sensations meet thoughts.....this is where the emotions that carry us away from our present life are created.
The second question is "Can I see this as my path?" I found myself trying to skip right by this question. I had an impulse to attack this one with "expert brain". Oh yeah, yeah! I'll practice that later, sort of like the question on the exam you leave to last. this is is not such a simple concept when you are in the mud.
What I was avoiding was the visualizing of myself in the mud. When I did find the focus, patience and mud to contemplate this question, I found myself quite adamantly declaring that "these upsetting events" were NOT part of my path. I had to turn around and look at myself in astonishment. I knew that this was not the right answer. This question is clearly the critical step where we can welcome our distress, because we understand that as long as we continue to resist our experience we will not be fully in our life.....we will be running away from our true experience of our life.....the mud, right now.
Our strategies for comfort and safety limit our life and keep us running away from ourselves.
"It is absolutely fundamental that we learn that when difficult situations and feelings arise, they are not obstacles to be avoided, but rather these difficulties are, the path itself."
Third question is "What is my most believed thought?" We take our opinions as truth and the deepest beliefs often stay beneath the surface of our thoughts.
"We are often unaware but there poisonous footprints often manifests themselves in our anger, blame, depression and shame." These deep seated beliefs often dictate how we feel and act, and they continue to run unconsciously. I find the power of unconscious beliefs astonishing, and feel humbled every time I encounter a belief that was fueling me. This question requires courage and honesty. Never be satisfied with the surface answer when using this question as an aid to understanding. Be persistent! Be patient! And then it can be your guru.
The fourth question is "Can I let this experience just be?" Not judging our experience as defective, not needing it be something different allows us to snuggle up to our present reality and put some compassion in place for ourselves. We are no longer judging ourselves. We are starting to understand that this is just what a human life is.....and we feel compassion for ourselves and all other humans. What an enormous relief! What if I just let what is......be. Am I still safe? Is there really anything else to do but sit in where I am. This is my life .... right now. So let it be my life right now.
The fifth question is "What is going on right now?" This simple question requires acknowledging the objective situation. What is the truth of today. Is this present moment bringing us unhappiness. Or is it just our thoughts about the past and future that are bringing us unhappiness. Are we allowed to sit in today and enjoy the gifts that we have right now. But to achieve this, we need to see the difference between our thoughts of what is happening and the actual facts of the situation. This may help by providing the insight that there is no physical discomfort other that the discomfort triggered by believing in my fear based thoughts. Again, back to zero.
All of these questions bring me back to zero! My meditation on these questions brings me back to zero. Meditation brings me back to zero. Thanks to my teachers for helping me recognize zero when I arrive there. This is the speechless destination.......I am not going to go back to check my spelling.....I will leave it at zero......
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
I have always loved a good survival tale......
I have always loved a good survival tale. No, really, I will look through those late night documentaries and docudramas, like an archaeologist in search of an ancient Buddhist text. I will watch, listen to or read the newest version of the oldest tale of endurance with the enthusiasm of someone who has never heard the story and has no idea how it ends. It is not the ending, it is the journey to the ending that I love. Some people enjoy a good survival tale to witness the endurance of the human spirit in challenging times. For me it is different. I love to watch the process that I would like to call the "unpeeling" of the human spirit. It is the process of slow disappearance of the "ground" that we ,as humans, cling to, that fascinates me. As I experience compassion and empathy for these individuals, I feel like I am practicing. They are slowly losing the idea of control. There is a process of surrendering to their helplessness. They are usually left speechless in a meditative state. Of course, they survive or it wouldn't be a survival tale and in the end, it all looks like grace. A kind of celebration of life.
It is so easy to see your self with great courage when you do not need to be brave. I know I am guilty of this.
Alan and I were tossed a little grace on Monday night. We were at home,tucked in warmly, in front of a fire, with homemade tortillas roasting in a cast iron frying pan on the stove. The winds were blowing at about 60 kilometers an hour and the wind chill factor was seriously below freezing. We had about a foot of snow. But we were safe and warm and so were the cats.
The marina called. The boat we caretake was in trouble. It would seem that the dock that the 16 ton, 45 foot boat was moored to had broken loose, and how long the one chain holding it to the marina would last was dupious. We needed to move the boat to the next secure mooring.
Alan and I went in search of really warm clothes. As soon as I realized that my dollar store gloves were going to have to do, the ground started giving way. When we arrived at the dock, this huge boat was rocking and rolling. The boat was white and everything else was black. The dock.....gee did I just say 'dock'.....the ice flow that it was attached to, was flapping on the rolling waves like a piece of cotton in the wind. There was only one small chain attaching it to the marina. To even get to the ropes that held the boat to the flailing ice covered dock, meant jumping from the stable dock we were on to this wild, unpredictably gyrating one the boat was attached to. I looked at my dollar store gloves.
I jumped and quickly got low, while Alan jumped onto the swim grid on the back of the boat and held on for dear life. The waves lapped over the grid. Alan was now in the boat unplugging wires and cables and getting tools we would need. I crawled along the ice and snow covered dock. Any lapse of in concentration, would find myself flung uncontrolably all over the dock. The dock had a life of it's own. I only allowed myself to look at the blackness of the water once. I knew it was dangerous to even consider the idea of finding myself in that water. My ground was very unstable. The dollar store gloves had frozen to my skin.
I ignored the terror in my heart that awakened every time I saw Alan make another jump to the boat. I knew that I would be be helpless if he didn't make it. Now I never did take physics, but that boat looked away to big and heavy to allow me to pull it compliantly to the stable dock. I felt like a small child in front of this huge weight. But Alan was clearly leaning down to untie the boat, so I started working on my end. The knots were frozen. We needed to find a way to melt these knots. Alan jumped back on the boat and came back with a saucepan. "Pour water over the ropes", he yelled at me. I looked at my dollar store gloves.
I crawled over to the ropes, hung my arm over the side of the heaving dock and started to pour water over the ropes. My hands screamed with pain. It was strange how they felt like they were burning rather that freezing. This was the lowest point of the night. We had been out on that snow covered dock hanging on for dear life for over an hour. I told off my dollar store gloves and put them in my pocket. That small piece of ground was gone.
Now, we didn't have to live off toothpaste for 49 days, and no one needed to cut of a limb with a can opener, but I had a survival adventure. It is so easy to have courage when there is nothing to be brave about. We moved the boat, came home, re lite the fire and ate the tortillas. The cats did not seem to realize that we had gone.
It is so easy to see your self with great courage when you do not need to be brave. I know I am guilty of this.
Alan and I were tossed a little grace on Monday night. We were at home,tucked in warmly, in front of a fire, with homemade tortillas roasting in a cast iron frying pan on the stove. The winds were blowing at about 60 kilometers an hour and the wind chill factor was seriously below freezing. We had about a foot of snow. But we were safe and warm and so were the cats.
The marina called. The boat we caretake was in trouble. It would seem that the dock that the 16 ton, 45 foot boat was moored to had broken loose, and how long the one chain holding it to the marina would last was dupious. We needed to move the boat to the next secure mooring.
Alan and I went in search of really warm clothes. As soon as I realized that my dollar store gloves were going to have to do, the ground started giving way. When we arrived at the dock, this huge boat was rocking and rolling. The boat was white and everything else was black. The dock.....gee did I just say 'dock'.....the ice flow that it was attached to, was flapping on the rolling waves like a piece of cotton in the wind. There was only one small chain attaching it to the marina. To even get to the ropes that held the boat to the flailing ice covered dock, meant jumping from the stable dock we were on to this wild, unpredictably gyrating one the boat was attached to. I looked at my dollar store gloves.
I jumped and quickly got low, while Alan jumped onto the swim grid on the back of the boat and held on for dear life. The waves lapped over the grid. Alan was now in the boat unplugging wires and cables and getting tools we would need. I crawled along the ice and snow covered dock. Any lapse of in concentration, would find myself flung uncontrolably all over the dock. The dock had a life of it's own. I only allowed myself to look at the blackness of the water once. I knew it was dangerous to even consider the idea of finding myself in that water. My ground was very unstable. The dollar store gloves had frozen to my skin.
I ignored the terror in my heart that awakened every time I saw Alan make another jump to the boat. I knew that I would be be helpless if he didn't make it. Now I never did take physics, but that boat looked away to big and heavy to allow me to pull it compliantly to the stable dock. I felt like a small child in front of this huge weight. But Alan was clearly leaning down to untie the boat, so I started working on my end. The knots were frozen. We needed to find a way to melt these knots. Alan jumped back on the boat and came back with a saucepan. "Pour water over the ropes", he yelled at me. I looked at my dollar store gloves.
I crawled over to the ropes, hung my arm over the side of the heaving dock and started to pour water over the ropes. My hands screamed with pain. It was strange how they felt like they were burning rather that freezing. This was the lowest point of the night. We had been out on that snow covered dock hanging on for dear life for over an hour. I told off my dollar store gloves and put them in my pocket. That small piece of ground was gone.
Now, we didn't have to live off toothpaste for 49 days, and no one needed to cut of a limb with a can opener, but I had a survival adventure. It is so easy to have courage when there is nothing to be brave about. We moved the boat, came home, re lite the fire and ate the tortillas. The cats did not seem to realize that we had gone.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The crock pot mornings...
In the last week or so, I have had the strong inclination to make baked beans. I love the process of making beans from scratch......it feels so organic and mindful. There isn't anyway to make good baked beans without participating in a ritual which lasts two days. I am not sure what I was looking forward to more.....the delicious, wholesome taste of homemade baked beans or the centering process of imagining the beans being picked in the sunshine of a summer sun, carefully washing them and soaking them in fresh clean water (we are so fortunate for this gift), and cooking them with herbs and spices, that are also so generously made available to us.
I soaked the beans last night, and as they need to cook for 6 to 8 eight hours, got up early this morning to make the beans and put them in the crock pot. I had an early appointment with a cherished client, and needed to do the beans before I left the house. I found myself in a quiet house, in the near dark kitchen, barely dressed making the beans.
Memories flooded by me. This crock pot moment was so familiar. I had forgotten about the many mornings that I had frantically put the meal in the crock pot in the quiet, dark, kitchen barely dressed. I realized that I was never present in that kitchen. The thoughts, which drew me faraway from the present felt sense of my feet carrying me down the hall way, were obsessively clutching to the response to a question that I would be asked very near the end of my day. My mind having skipped breakfast, the ride to work, the clients that I would see that day, the ride home......my thoughts were focused on a moment very much later in the day, when my son and my husband would look at me and say, "what's for dinner?". My obsession was fueled by the value that I put on having the "right" answer to that question. I could not fail at this task of wife and mother. This task took top priority in my life. What value would I have if I could not feed the people who I needed to love me the most. Opps! Did I just say that? What a disappointment I would be? What would disappointing them mean to me? What if I failed at the job that I was trying to do the best? What place would this leave me in? I could feel myself disappearing just remembering.
All I can say is "it is so hard not to know". The one blame is this confusing life and the desperate ways we try to feel safe. Shinning a light underneath the "proper" behaviour is what I would advocate for all the young women who are carrying a burden.
My beans are ready for dinner.
I soaked the beans last night, and as they need to cook for 6 to 8 eight hours, got up early this morning to make the beans and put them in the crock pot. I had an early appointment with a cherished client, and needed to do the beans before I left the house. I found myself in a quiet house, in the near dark kitchen, barely dressed making the beans.
Memories flooded by me. This crock pot moment was so familiar. I had forgotten about the many mornings that I had frantically put the meal in the crock pot in the quiet, dark, kitchen barely dressed. I realized that I was never present in that kitchen. The thoughts, which drew me faraway from the present felt sense of my feet carrying me down the hall way, were obsessively clutching to the response to a question that I would be asked very near the end of my day. My mind having skipped breakfast, the ride to work, the clients that I would see that day, the ride home......my thoughts were focused on a moment very much later in the day, when my son and my husband would look at me and say, "what's for dinner?". My obsession was fueled by the value that I put on having the "right" answer to that question. I could not fail at this task of wife and mother. This task took top priority in my life. What value would I have if I could not feed the people who I needed to love me the most. Opps! Did I just say that? What a disappointment I would be? What would disappointing them mean to me? What if I failed at the job that I was trying to do the best? What place would this leave me in? I could feel myself disappearing just remembering.
All I can say is "it is so hard not to know". The one blame is this confusing life and the desperate ways we try to feel safe. Shinning a light underneath the "proper" behaviour is what I would advocate for all the young women who are carrying a burden.
My beans are ready for dinner.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
They fight like soldiers, they die like children
Romeo Dallaire is a true bodhisattva. He has written another book filled with reports of the evils of this world....the unconscionable exploitation of the most innocent humans on the planet. Romeo is again challenging our courage to open to the realities of this world. The subject is unspeakably evil. Once again he is saying "we must not look away from this truth". I wondered if I would have the courage to read it. I visualized myself opening the book....Can these images of cruelty share my world of beautiful sunsets. Could this information also be part of my path? I felt my responsibility to open my heart. Are the struggles of these children, my struggles too? It is too late for me to know and not to know.
I am reminded of a story that Thich Nhat Hung tells of the pirates who seize the boats of fleeing refugees in the oceans that these people are call their homes. He tells the story of a fourteen year old girl who was raped by one of these pirates while being held hostage. The girl jumps overboard feeling that her life now has no purpose. The level of victimization took my breathe way. But then he adds, "in some of your lives you have been the fourteen year old girl and in some of your lives you have been the pirate."
I read the book.
The horror of the realities of these children is beautifully balanced by the open hearted compassion that this sensitive man feels in their presence. The best and the worst of this world.
Much gratitude to this man who carries so much truth of human suffering. I did not want to be unwilling to share this load with him. Just another human who will look away to watch the sunset. This story is too large for most...too sharp.... too real...requiring more courage than most of us believe we have. Turn and lean in and you will see that this story is about you.
I am reminded of a story that Thich Nhat Hung tells of the pirates who seize the boats of fleeing refugees in the oceans that these people are call their homes. He tells the story of a fourteen year old girl who was raped by one of these pirates while being held hostage. The girl jumps overboard feeling that her life now has no purpose. The level of victimization took my breathe way. But then he adds, "in some of your lives you have been the fourteen year old girl and in some of your lives you have been the pirate."
I read the book.
The horror of the realities of these children is beautifully balanced by the open hearted compassion that this sensitive man feels in their presence. The best and the worst of this world.
Much gratitude to this man who carries so much truth of human suffering. I did not want to be unwilling to share this load with him. Just another human who will look away to watch the sunset. This story is too large for most...too sharp.... too real...requiring more courage than most of us believe we have. Turn and lean in and you will see that this story is about you.
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