Bridge: Festive Metta

And now, I am taking another break on account of the festive season.

Best wishes to all!

See you next year, in January 2010.

May you be well.
May you be peaceful.
May you be happy.

Brick: Posture Predicaments

I can’t seem to get this posture thing right. No matter what I do, either something hurts or something’s falling asleep. I’ve heard it said somewhere that it takes 20 years to learn to sit properly, but what does that mean? What is “properly?” Or, is there such a thing? Maybe that’s only a story made up by people to keep people going.

I do keep going, though sometimes I am not sure why. Some days I think it’s such a waste of time, and once in a while I succumb to this view and quit for a day.

I skipped it a few days ago, and then yesterday when I sat concluded that I was attached to the practice, but I directed myself not get involved with that thought either, and I ignored it and continued.

Today, as soon as I sat down, I heard hammering and I already had a headache. I decided to try and continue anyway, trying to be like the earth, i.e., to not be bothered by what I felt was this disagreeable experience. When that worked I was surprised because usually, when it comes to noise, I find it impossible to keep going. Whether it was the method or the conditions, however, I am sure I don’t know.

Then there was this posture thing again. I adjusted it two or three times, and in the end accepted that my left leg falling asleep was the best that I could do on this occasion. I was able to accept this to the end, and congratulated myself for those few moments of stillness, of being here fully and accepting everything as it is that I managed to achieve—if achievement is the right word.

Then I got up with a groan, my left leg and knee being stiff and sore from the experience of sitting in the way I wound up sitting, and I felt frustrated.

Oh well.

Brew: Agitation Stew

Today I am getting to know my blindness much better.

You may think that this is not very reassuring, and that I’m just writing nonsense from the other end of the crazy continuum. Be that as it may, it’s quite interesting in here, or from here, as the case may be.

From here, I see the benefits of being always alert to one’s state of heart, mind and body. I think we are always biased, but perhaps we can know our biases sufficiently to be aware that any decision we make is always biased.

This looks like just another beginning.

I do wish I’d stop worrying about how far I have to go, as this is probably meaningless, but I guess from this state this is just what my mind tends to do with itself. From within my current agitated state, my mind seems to have to do something or other, though not necessarily what I think I’d like it to be doing.

Then again, for all I know, not liking what’s happening is probably part of this state too. It may take a long time for me to explore this multi-layered continent, this tangled ball of ideas, feelings, impressions, sensations, and whatever else is going on today.

Even as I examine this, however, it keeps changing, but into what? By the time I think I know it will change again. It’s always changing. How ridiculous that I think I can actually keep track. I might as well try to trace the changes in the iron atoms in my bed, but I try it anyway.

That’s what made sense to me from there. It’s gone now. By writing about it I have changed it again, or maybe writing was the change and I missed it.

Come to think of it, don’t even blink!

On the other hand, blinking could be it too.

EEK! ^^ LOL

Breathtaking: Just Weird

Picking up from my previous entry, this had some very amusing implications.

Okay, so here I was listening to a selection from one of the audio talks I like to hear, and starting to argue with the teacher. I’m thinking I know so much more now than she does, and I’m disagreeing.

Then, ‘wait a sec.’ I thought. ‘If there is no “I,” then, who am I talking to? Why am I setting up this conflict with myself?'

Hmm. Let’s see. Some say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, could this be the second sign? You know, arguing with yourself? LOL

Oh my!

So, this is me, finally going mad, is it?

Meanwhile, the teacher has moved on to talking about the volunteer work she has been doing, and how it has been benefiting her, and at this point I think I was really losing it, because I was thinking, ‘Gee, isn’t that nice of her to do all this to benefit myself?’ And then, as she’s talking more about herself, and how her experiences with others cause her to react, I’m thinking, ‘Wow, myself is self-centred!’ and laughing some more. At that point I had to stop and write this down before “I” lost it forever; hence confirming my point, about myself’s self-centredness. LOL (Rolls eyes)

This is probably a load of rot, but it sure is fun. It seems a crack opened up in the clouds, and all sorts of laughter came out. I shall enjoy it while it lasts, as I expect I’ll be just as blind again soon, and wondering what this nonsense was all about, then it’s back to practice, practice, practice, until another little sliver of light breaks through the gloom.

But if I could just let go of it, then maybe I could break through too.

Breathless: “I”-yie-yie

I’ve been thinking about reality, about the origin of what is. I wonder if reality is like a narcissistic lover, so vast that it forgets itself, routinely getting confused and thinking the “bits” of itself are separate from the other “bits.” Then it falls in love with these “bits,” and hungers for them, as if they were separate. It’s like a dog that falls in love with it’s own tail, and keeps checking to see if it’s still there, as if it’s ever anywhere else. If it loses sight of the tail it gets worried that something has been lost, even though this is impossible. At the same time, if it tires of this “bit,” or thinks it is engaged in some sort of conflict with it, it tries to get away, but this too is impossible.

We all think we have some separate existence from one another, but perhaps we don’t. Perhaps we just think we do, because reality is so huge that we forget we are it. We imagine we love somebody out there or hate somebody out there, when really they are just us, and this is what makes everything what it is.

Without all this love and hate, this affinity and repulsion would we remember who we are, and then what, I wonder? If everything was just everything, not pulling or pushing, then how would it know it was there at all? Maybe all this conflict and attraction is necessary for existence to know it exists. For if it wasn’t there, how would it know that it is? Because, as I am speaking of everything here, there would be no point of comparison, there being nothing outside of everything to compare everything too.

But how did this happen? Who started it? Or, is there simply no beginning and no ending? I’d really like to know, but who is this “I” person anyway? If reality doesn’t know then who knows? Or, is this wanting to know just foolish reality looking for its tail again? Where did all of this come from? Where did I come from? Where did “I” come from? Or, maybe this is just a silly question.

I seem to recall that Buddha thought these questions were pretty futile, and perhaps he was right. Maybe it’s stupid to inquire. It could be a waste of time, but we do it anyway, or at least some of us do. In fact, some people make their entire careers out of “where did everything come from?” And “Why are we here?” And, so on. But unless I plan to do that, I suppose I ought to just stick to my own brand of knitting, and leave this question alone. Otherwise, I could just drive myself nuts, whoever “myself” may be. (giggles) Either way, I was surprised how peaceful I felt after writing this, which for all “I” knows, may possibly be the whole point of such speculations.

Breather: Adding a New Element

I woke up much too early and couldn’t get back to sleep. There was all sorts of rage and discouragement about all sorts of things that I don’t even remember now.

Then later when I went out on the street I felt uneasy. I used my reflection of the four elements and the elements of life, but even this was not enough.

So then, I thought of this from the Pali Suttas:

Develop meditation that is like the earth: as the earth is not troubled by agreeable or disagreeable things it comes into contact with, so if you meditate like the earth, agreeable and disagreeable experiences will not trouble you. Develop meditation like water, like fire, like air and like space: as all of these are not troubled by agreeable or disagreeable things they come into contact with, so if you meditate like water, fire, air or space, agreeable and disagreeable experiences will not trouble you.—MN62

And, at once I began to relax.

I had felt surrounded by the disagreeable, but this reflection dispelled my discomfort, and I was able to continue on with my tasks.

On my way back I encountered a dog wandering by itself off the leash, and thought how foolish people are to let their dogs roam, but then I reflected that considering people are just air, water, earth, and fire, my expectations were way too high. For how could these elements be intelligent?

After that, it seemed pretty foolish to bother getting upset about such trivialities, and I strolled along the rest of the way home sporting a silly grin.

Breakthrough: Mindful Discovery

To do, to do:
Making macaroni and cheese stew.
The colours are so lovely,
The cheese so creamy,
Mindfully eating this should be easy,
But I still rush, rush, busy, busy.

What is my big hurry?
If I slow down, what’s the worry?
For what am I tearing from?
First to last spoonful?

Where am I attempting to get,
Or get away from?
Am I trying to win a bet?
Or, is this just habit?
To grab and run,
To stuff my mouth and fumble around,
Eating at my desk,
Always reaching for the next task.

It seems so foolish
But I can’t seem to
Stop doing this.
Perhaps today I will cease
Speeding like a thief being
Chased by the police.

Otherwise I don’t see how
I will enjoy any peace;
If I keep on racing to the finish
Only to start in on another dish,
Or another job or chore;

That is, unless
I learn how to find
Some stillness in the chaos.
Then maybe I will rest.
But until then I will just
Have to do my best.

Breakout: Is-ing

Every moment is already ‘like this.’
There’s nothing to pursue,
Not even happiness.

I always find my way
Whether I am mindful or not,
Even when I’m sleeping.

Although I fall into dark waters
I always save myself,
Though not necessarily
As soon as I’d like it!

I think up great lines
And then forget them
Before I write them.
As soon as I try to
Set down the words
I lose them, perhaps because
Writing is not the point,
Doing is;
Thinking is not the purpose,
Being is.

Action is paramount
But Non-action is essential too.
Seeing what is
Is just what it is;
There’s no need to think about it;
Effort only makes reality
More difficult to perceive.

I’m getting all storied out,
Telling tales
And figuring,
When I should be
Putting the past behind me
And living.

Breaker: Deep Waters

Doubt, doubt, doubt:
I can’t seem to get out.
I’ve tried going in
With insight;
I’ve tried going through
With metta,
But it seems to me
That I just can’t win.

Is it the practice?
Or, is it me?
Or, is it monkey mind,
That’s got me out of my tree?

I don’t know really,
And I feel so stuck
Am I just depressed,
Or genuinely out of luck?

It’s so dark in here
When I get so blind;
I can’t look forward,
I can only look behind.

The view from here
Is mighty bleak;
I’m afraid to look around
Fearing I might freak.

But what will happen
If I just take a peak?
What will I find, I wonder?
I quiver and squeak.

But I must keep looking
If I want to see,
The end of this black mood;
And then, perhaps I will break free.

Break: Mind Jump

Contemplating the six senses,
My mind flits about
From one to the other
With tremendous speed.

Synesthesia sets in:
I’m seeing sensations
And viewing what I hear,
And somewhere along the way
I lose the distinction between
Pleasure and pain;
The patterned shapes and colours
Merely light up my mind.

Tension releases
And the minutes fly by,
My timer rings
And I continue for a while.

‘I could do this all day,’
I think,
But the hour is getting late
And I have to move again.

What a wonderful experience
To forget about discriminating;
If only I can bring this practice
To my regular duties,
What a gift it would be
To myself and all around me.

Bouquet: Business as Unusual

Too much said
Not enough done
This is the theme

I plot and scheme
But get no closer to
Escaping from the dream

I’m not sure what to do
I think and fret
And get caught in it

Plunging through my mind
Spinning like a dime
I lose track of the time

Behind schedule again
I storm through my chores
Cursing as I go

I’ve seen this show
So often before
But it’s all I know

Experience it seems
Does not always lead to change
And yet I have changed

The patterns remain
Yet everything’s different
But sometimes the alterations
Are difficult to see

Bounty: Elementary

Lately, I’ve been looking for new ways to ground myself in the present when my mind is going off to ‘who knows where.’ Today, I fell to reflecting on what’s called ‘the four elements,’ and found this to be amazingly effective.

I had heard that sometimes what makes people feel angry is alienation from those around them, a sense that people are not us, foreign, alien. But when I think of the four elements I realize that we are all very related indeed. These are air, water, earth, and fire (though I prefer to think of it as heat).

In Theravada Buddhism, in particular, it is said that we are composed of these. Air goes into the lungs. It is mostly composed of Oxygen and Nitrogen, both of which dissolve in the blood. Oxygen is also carried by the red blood cells, and is, of course, essential for us. Water is mostly what we’re made of, for example in our blood and saliva. It is also perspired by us. Earth is in our bones and teeth as calcium and other minerals. In addition there is iron in the blood, and many other minerals in our bodies. Heat we can feel in our bodies as well.

Another way of looking at this is that life is mostly composed of Hydrogen, Oxygen, Nitrogen, and Carbon, with Phosphorus and Sulfur as well, and many other trace elements.

And so, we see that we really do have a lot in common.

We can also add the six senses, which most people have, consisting of sight, smell, taste, touch, smell and consciousness. Plus, there’s the fact that we all have certain basic needs, such as food and water, some kind of shelter, and usually clothes of some sort.

Hence, by examining and reflecting upon these we find how similar we all are, and also how connected to everything else, the elements are found all over the place.

Some people also add space itself as an element, because how could we possibly move around without it? And, there’s plenty of that around, both outer and inner.

When I’m in a huff and I do this type of reflection, I often find it calming; so, it’s probably good to do, at least as an alternative to just getting into a stew or blowing one’s stack. Plus, you may find it quite interesting too.

Bountiful: Metta Returns

Have you ever had one of those days when you felt like shouting, “I want to go home!”

Well, I had one today, and I was at home. Fancy that!

“Where is home?” I asked.

I didn’t know.

Hence, I pulled my loving-kindness practice out of my tool kit, and kept thinking, ‘May I find home, may I find home, may I find it now!’

Then I reflected on past readings and audio talks about what are called the “Divine Abodes,” one of which is loving-kindness.

Ah so! It’s more than just a practice; it’s a place to abide, to dwell.

‘Hmm. This sounds like home to me,’ I concluded.

What followed was, ‘May I dwell in loving-kindness,’ repeated, over and over, and pretty soon I felt much better, and very at home indeed.

Then, I was able to get on with things.

And so, if you are looking for home, it’s probably right here.

It’s so good to be home again. (I wonder how long I will stay this time, and when I will ever learn to just stay home!)

Boundless: Mind Expanding

Today I had an appointment, and they kept me waiting almost an hour.

This was an interesting test of all the skills and practices I have learned to date.

Luckily the chair was fairly comfortable for me, but even so the pain began to creep in, and so did the muscle tension response, and the irritation.

I directed myself to be patient with all of this, and I did some stretching every twenty minutes or so.

The best strategy of all, however, proved to be my reflection on how all the discomfort I was experiencing was but a grain of sand on an infinite beach. I contemplated on what else was happening. From where I was sitting I could see that the sun was going down, but somewhere else in the world I knew the sun was rising. Still elsewhere, it was high noon, and someplace else again it was midnight. Winter is coming on here; spring is blooming there, and in the southern realms summer solstice is on the way. Trillions of beings are being born, growing up, getting old and dying. The earth is rotating on its axis and orbiting the sun. The sun is moving through the galaxy, and the galaxy is rotating with other galaxies, and the universe is expanding at tremendous speed. All of this, and so much more is going on, and I am part of it to too; yet, what I had locked in on before was dis-ease, pain, and muscle tension.

Oh, what a relief! Whenever I can stop identifying with and getting caught up in whatever is happening in ‘little me,’ I can be so free. When I let go of that, I see that there’s really nothing that I need to hold onto.

But then I forget again, of course, and it starts all over. It such a challenge, but I just keep going, one foot at a time.

Bottomless: The Place that Mind Forgets

Thinking, thinking, thinking,
What a way to spend my time.
If I’m not thinking I’m planning,
Or rehearsing, or preparing.

After a while it becomes too much,
“Stop!” I say.
And I stop,
But then start up again
When I’m not looking.

Soon after I wake up,
The mind wants to flit about
Like a child at play;
It can be amusing to watch,
But it can be
Difficult to be mindful,
Amidst the every day.

I get lost in my musings,
Or lost in activity,
And sometimes consumed by
Both simultaneously.

I forget what I’m doing
In the middle of a task,
Or lose track of
Where I’m going,
Or what I’m after when I get there.

This mindfulness business is tricky
There’s no doubt about it.
Just when I’m sure I’ve found it,
I realize I’ve misplaced it,
Or overlooked what else is happening.

Bonus: Metta Adventure

Last night when I was in bed preparing for sleep, at which time lately I often find myself spontaneously breaking into Loving-Kindness meditation, I noticed a most amazing thing. I started thinking about all the beings everywhere: in the ocean, on the land, in the earth, and the air. I imagined whales and fishes, eels and crustaceans, mollusks, seals and dolphins, elephants and crocodiles, lions, tigers, leopards, and cats of all kinds, wolves and dogs, herds of various grazing animals, rodents, marsupials, bats, birds of all kinds, worms and grubs, insects, and many more.

Then suddenly, all boundaries between living things dropped away, and then it seemed as if it was not “I” wishing myself loving-kindness, wellness, happiness, peace, but it was as if everything was wishing itself loving-kindness, wellness, happiness and peace. There was this feeling of being part of everything, and everything being part of me, and yet there was no me, or at least, no separate me.

I don’t know when I’ve felt happier, and I slept well that night for the first time in quite a while. I gather from my reading that this sort of experience is not unusual for people who continue with these kinds of practices. Thus, if you are looking for a sleeping pill, but prefer to avoid medication, you might want to try this some time. It did seem to require some practice, as I had been doing it every night for at least a week before I had this experience, but the only “side effects” I have experienced are a feeling of well being and the development of a more kindly attitude towards oneself and others.

Bolster: Practice, Practice, Practice

It is truly remarkable what a difference it makes when one simply sits with whatever is present and faces it, with an attitude of kindly interest.

For example, yesterday, in my meditation, I had a direct encounter with panic and the anguish associated with it. When I suffer from such intense feelings, I sometimes think I can’t possibly stand it, and feel as if it will never go away. This time, perhaps because it happened during my meditation, I noticed how quickly it actually disappeared when I just sat with it and left it alone.

A similar thing happened today. As there is a major snowstorm coming, there has been a radical shift in the weather, from high to low pressure, and cold to warm, I have developed a severe migraine headache. (This too probably accounts for the panic yesterday, as I often experience intense feelings of all sorts prior to one of these migraine attacks.)

From past experience, I have learned that the best thing for me to do is to relax right into the headache instead of resisting it. Then I do loving-kindness practice towards the headache. The effect is amazing. When I do these two things, a major easing of the pain occurs, making it much less unpleasant. I’m not sure I got the idea; I just tried it one day and it worked, and it still does.

Closely observing what is happening but not getting involved in it provides an opportunity to determine what can be tried to make a positive difference. Of course this takes practice and trial-and-error. I still get caught up in what’s happening quite often and suffer the consequences. At the same time, however, this reminds me of the benefits of practicing the opposite.

Body: From Reaction to Responsiveness

On the topic of working with physical pain: something is changing.

When I first started, my reaction/response was dictated by my aversion to the pain I feel.

Gradually, very gradually, however, perhaps due to practice and application of loving-kindness and mindfulness, I am finding that pain is being stripped of the extra reactions, such as, “oh no, not again!” And “I don’t want this,” etc.

In its place is simply, “how can I respond to this, in the most effective and kindly way?”

Then I make adjustments as needed, or simply try to take an open gentle attitude towards this complex sensation, to be with it.

Then I can also investigate it, and sort out what it is I actually feel.

Interestingly, I often find that when I do examine it, it’s not what I ‘thought’ it was, and sometimes I even have trouble finding it. It then becomes just sensation, and is not so difficult to deal with.

Nevertheless, there are still many times when an unexpected pain arises that I react or worry, as in “what now?” Or, “this isn’t supposed to happen.” And then, there are other times when it’s just really difficult.

I am not yet ready to go without pain medication by any means, but it appears that there has been some progress. It is an ongoing process, never ending I imagine, for as long there is this body.

Blossom: Opening to My Losses

And so I went for a dip,
In the water under the bridge,
And let the tears flow for a while.
Then, well refreshed by my swim,
I was able to get on with my day.

And when I did my work,
I shared the fruits of
My acceptance
With those needing comfort.

Thus, by opening to my losses,
And recognizing them,
I found relief,
And was able to
Redistribute what I gained
From this practice.

As for the long run,
I reflected upon whether
This process will ever end,
And if it doesn’t
Can I accept that too?
And then what?

I will not have the answers
Until I get the results,
And so, I shall continue,
Like a diver,

Exploring the sea.

Blockage: Deluge

My previous reflection was prophetic.
For recently, I received a letter from family members,
From whom I have been estranged for many years,
Asking for me to contact them.
(They are getting old, you see,
And facing up to their mortality.)

When I read this letter,
At first it merely renewed my rage,
For past inequities;
But then, upon considering my last entry,
I realized that with or without them,
I need to accept my hurt, my grief, my loss, my
Disappointment.
For, by my previous logic
Rejection of this pain
May mean
Being unable to fully accept
Happiness either.

Life is a mixed bag,
That’s for sure,
And there’s enough water under this bridge
To swamp a star liner;
But, perhaps that’s what all those
Swimming lessons were for,
Which were, appropriately enough,
Paid for by the sponsors of
This particular deluge.

Blessed: Relief

Yesterday I discovered,
Descending into disappointment,
And nothing else,
Is no problem.

Deep and dark
It felt,
But by itself,
It was
Simple
Weightless
Benign
Inoffensive.

And finding it so,
I was then able
To be open to
Joy
Peace
Ease
Tranquility.

Hence, I see how
Acceptance of
The truth of suffering
And its causes,
Are such important
Lessons to learn.

For when one has
Truly understood
And accepted these,
Deeply,
Liberation from suffering
Becomes possible.

Blend: Stillness

I have continued to reflect upon and work with the difficulties of dealing with pain and aversion. I have noticed for a long time that when I feel good, I will completely forget about when I felt bad, and that correspondingly, when I feel terrible, I will often lose all track of any notion of or possibility of feeling good. As my practice is developing, I am more aware of the opposite feeling, but I often experience this awareness as unpleasant. Recently, I wound up trying something different.

Earlier in the day I had felt very good, and then later started to feel miserable. Then I sat down to meditate. Somehow, in my mind’s eye, I had an image of myself sitting on the chair opposite, which was where I had been sitting the last time I had felt so good. I imagined the “me” that had felt good merging with the “me” that wasn’t feeling so good. At the moment of this imaginary merging there was a sharp but prolonged, involuntary intake of breath, with a vocal squeak at the end of it, and then there was just this profound stillness—no bliss, no misery, no thinking either, just stillness.

Throughout this I had maintained some attention on the body, which was where the stillness was experienced, but this ‘sensation’ (if that’s what is was), which is difficult to describe, was particularly concentrated in the areas where there had been discomfort or pain just moments before this. This stillness persisted until the end of the meditation, and for some time afterwards as well.


On another occasion, I was sitting at my desk at work thinking about how much I disliked the room and everything in it. Then I closed my eyes and imagined what setting I would prefer, and visualized a beautiful country scene, with a view of the fall colours in the leaves of the trees. This made me feel really blissful. Then I opened my eyes and it felt as if I was in two places at once: the place where I wanted to be and the office. And then I was at peace. This tranquility and well being persisted too, and for an even longer time.

Blank: Light and Dark

Only when you see the light
Do you realize how dark the darkness is (was).

But I’d forgotten
What light was like too,
Which was the reason
It was so bright.

A voice said, “this is light.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“That which is blinding you now.”

“Oh,” said I.

And then plunging back
Into darkness,
I saw how dark the darkness was.

Now then,
Where does the darkness
Meet the light?

I expect it happens all the time,
But only when you don’t notice
Anything special,
Or don’t expect it, perhaps.

Blade: And So It Goes

Wow!

What a course that was.

All I have to say is:

The most exciting, rewarding, harrowing adventures I have are the ones I have sitting by myself doing what the outside observer would think was nothing.

Building an anchor is really hard work.

It’s the baggage: it keeps following me.

This reminds me of the time I was riding my bike down this dirt track on a hot and sunny summer’s day. Suddenly I saw my shadow in the dirt, pursued by numerous tiny shadows. It was a swarm of horseflies chasing me, presumably after my blood.

My meditation practice seemed helpful when it was new because it was new; the swarm had not yet located it.

But, now it has, and so the trouble begins anew.

For help, I turned to the late Zen Master, Shunryu Suzuki’s, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind:

“The goal of practice is always to keep our beginner’s mind.”

For, “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities. In the expert’s mind there are few.”

And so, I went back to the most basic practice, the practice of focusing on my breathing, and there I found peace, for a time.

Ah but, the saga continues. . .

Taking a Break

I am going to take a break from blogging now in order to focus on my mindfulness meditation practice course.

But, before I go, leave you with this thought:

It strikes me as ironic that
in order to stop being self-centered,
you have to pay more attention to
what YOU are doing.

Thanks for reading.

Lee

Bite: Energy

Making Waves

I woke up feeling very tired,
enveloped by a stagnant pool of lethargy,
yet, fiercely emoting.

Exhaustion engulfed me like sea foam,
but frustration seethed around me
like waves on a beach.

Then suddenly I realized,
‘there is lots of energy here,
in this vexation.

If I could only employ this energy,
then I would be able to
accomplish much.'

When I concentrated
on this notion,
action followed.

The distinction between
reaction and action
dissolved.


Running

I feel as if
I’m training
for some sort of marathon.

Meanwhile,
I’m in one
already.

Bit: Mindfulness of the Body

I sat down,
in the coolness of the outside air,
on my white plastic chair,
all bundled up,
and brought my attention to the body.

Then there was that feeling again,
the one I have difficulty describing.
Falling?
Floating?
A rush of adrenaline perhaps?
A sense of thereness maybe?

Overwhelming sleepiness and fatigue arose,
softness in the chest,
hardness in the legs,
pain in the back of the shoulders.

From the softness emerged
tenderness, compassion, joy, and well-being,
which swept over all.
There was pleasure in just being in the body.

I got caught up in thoughts of
all I needed to get done,
or what I ought to be doing,
which brought forth tension and vibration.

When I noticed the thinking,
the reaction was amusement.
For thinking is most of what I do,
have always done, for most of my life.

And so,
it’s not unexpected when it comes,
but only when it goes.
It’s not a problem when
I enjoy it anyway.

And that was that,
except for the chill from
sitting outside in the cold for 20 minutes.

Big: Sometimes it’s Worth the Effort

The following describes an example of how meditation sometimes helps me to deal with the pain of fibromyalgia and the distress that goes with it.


After I established my attention on my breathing, the first thing I noticed was pain. But then I also noticed intense cravings for pleasure, bliss, and comfort, accompanied by salivation, a mental impression of tongues of bright yellow light straining to reach out for these, and an image of a sunny day with a cloudless sky.

Soon that was replaced by intense feelings of hurting (experienced as a kind of dull soreness in the chest—not the same as the physical pain itself, which was and usually is more like a burning fire). Waves of grief, loss, and sorrow followed, along with despair about my situation, not knowing what to do about it, and hopelessness about it.

Then, this all faded away and as soon as I noticed it I went back to the breath, and for a time there was just the breath. My attention got pulled into the physical pain, perhaps because I did not see anything else happening, but then I returned to the breath and tried to stay alert.

After a while, some small amount of peace and ease arose, along with a visual impression of an all encompassing soft, yellow light, accompanied by a loosening of muscle tension, and then my timer bell rang, ending this 20 minute meditation.


The key thing here is not to get pulled into or get involved with anything that is happening, but only to note what is happening or label it. In this technique awareness of the breathing is used as a kind of anchor from which to look out upon what else is happening.

Beyond: Thinking

Yesterday, I smelled somebody’s cooking, and as I often do, became very irritated. I thought of closing all the windows, as I usually do, but decided instead to try to find out what had provoked this reaction. I concentrated on the smell, and this huge story emerged, though at first I did not see it as such.

Then I thought, ‘what is happening?’ And I focused on it. ‘I am smelling this cooking, I am salivating, I am craving, and I am telling a story.’

I could see from this how it’s important to know that I am telling a story when I am telling a story. For then I can decide how to respond, rather than simply reacting. I also noticed that once I knew about the story, the cooking smell did not bother me.

Then it occurred to me how what I had noticed about what had been happening was such a small part of everything else that had been going on at the moment when I had smelled that food cooking.

Berserk: Delusion

Today, on the way to the grocery store, I was thinking about how deluded people can be.

Then, when I got to the store, there was this couple with this little kid who was blocking the turnstile. Meanwhile, I was having really impatient thoughts about their slowing me down, as I had to wait for the kid and the cart, and the Mother to get out of the way. In fact, I was so preoccupied with how they were in the way, preventing me from getting through as fast as I wanted to, and so forth, that the wheel on my cart got stuck on something, and I couldn’t get it loose, and the people behind me got stuck waiting for me. I felt like a complete fool.

Upon reflection, ‘that was so beautiful,’ I thought. Isn’t life grand!’ And I meant it.

Benumbed: Animation

I sat looking at the artificial grain of
the fake wood of my desk at work.
I observed the shapes and form,
And was suddenly overcome by
the desire to disappear into it.

So quiet, so calm,
Stillness flowing
Flowless stilling
Motionless moving.

Then I resumed my work,
And the desk was just a desk again.

Beneath: Mindfulness Practices

Staying with the Breath

Focusing on the breathing sometimes makes me more aware of my discomfort. Also, I sometimes feel this urge to get up and write down what I am thinking about or suddenly remember something I forgot to do. Sometimes I feel that if agitation were jet fuel I’d be flying around the room. Other times I get sleepy and start to zone out, but when I catch on to this, I respond by sitting up straighter and opening my eyes.


Staying with the Body

In the morning when I wake up, I do a little check in to see where my body is at. Sometimes it’s really quite sore and I need to start out very gently, checking everything out before getting up, and even after getting up, walking slowly at first. Gentle, nonjudgmental attention seems to be helpful.


Staying with It

When I’m feeling really frazzled, sometimes I will just stop what I am doing or trying to do for a minute or even a few seconds.

Belonging: Random Tidbits

Cooking

It’s remarkable how pleasurable it can be to simply feel the knife gliding through the vegetables I am slicing to put into my stew. I never seem to tire of or cease to be amazed by the new shapes that emerge from the encounter between knife and vegetables as I cut them up.


Urban Buddhas

One evening, I went out on my balcony and sat in a chair to meditate. I had this most wondrous experience of feeling as if the skyscrapers, with their yellow lights glowing in the night, were like golden Buddhas, sitting right along with me.


Mind-body Connection

The body may follow the mind,
But I find the reverse is also true;
If you can get the body going,
the mind usually follows.

Beleaguered: Hell

One day, when I was having a Fibromyalgia attack, I fell to reflecting upon hell, perhaps because I felt as if I was in it. I also thought about Tara Buddha and how in my visualizations I sometimes felt as if she poured her compassion all over me until it was overflowing all over the floor. Hence, I imagined myself in hell, and I wondered if the demons would get annoyed because I was making such a mess of the carpet.

“You there! Stop that!” Exclaimed the Demon shift supervisor. Do you have any idea how much it costs to carpet the entire precincts of hell with fire proof carpeting of the exact shade of charcoal black that Lucifer prefers?”

“Who me,” I replied. “I’m not in charge here. It’s Tara. She just keeps pouring compassion on me until it overflows.”

Materializing immediately at the sound of her name, “Yes?” said Tara.

The demon repeated his complaint, to which Tara replied, “I’m not in charge of reality, I just work here.”

Just then, Satan, on one of his regular walk-throughs of the factory floor, noticing the state of affairs, called the demon on the carpet.

The demon explained. “We’ll see about this!” Satan roared, ascending to the waiting room and demanding to be seen by God immediately to lodge a complaint.

“There’s a particularly long line up, this century,” the concierge informed him. “You’ll have to wait.” Naturally the devil attempted to jump the cue, but the other petitioners would have none of it. “Get behind me, Satan!” each one responded to his attempts to cut in. Sullenly, the devil complied.

Several millennia later the dark prince finally got in to see the Most High, who listened sympathetically while the demon vented his ire.

“You’re the one who put me in charge of hell. So, am I still in charge of hell or what?” He ended.

“I don’t see the problem. Some of these Buddhists don’t believe in me; so, of course I have to send them to hell. Besides that, they don’t mind it and it makes you crazy!!!” The Supreme being’s laugh shook the heavens.

The devil fumed, but there was nothing he could do about it; so, shaking with rage he slunk away back to his domains.

Beguiled: Chains

When I meditate it seems as if I change the place from which I am looking. Nothing changes except my perspective, but that’s all I need. I don’t have to change anything, just my perspective.

Chaos is always here.
Harmony is always here.
Suffering is always here.
Liberation from suffering is always here.

I know suffering when I am suffering.
I know liberation when I am awake.

But what is it that changes my perspective?
Do I change it? Is it what I am doing/not doing that changes it?
Or, does it merely change by itself, and it’s just that I happen to be paying attention at the time?

Then again, there is also a kind of cause and effect involved, is there not?
Something causes this change (or does it?)

It is said that if you break free from this chain of cause and effect, you are free to act, but when you are free, how will you act then?

This is the fear.

Then again, what if we are never independent from conditions? Then, I think we can only act within the parameters of all the conditions; we cannot depart from that.

If this is so then why do we make the judgments we make about people?

Or, maybe that too is conditioned.

Befuddled: September Discoveries

Decay

Everything is falling apart,
So much so that every time
Something else goes,
I fall down laughing!


Being

I come and go,
And yet there is no coming,
And no going.


Everything

When I’m in a bad mood,
Everything is in a bad mood.

Befriended: Nature Speaks

Will-o’-the-wasp?

A wasp got caught up
in a spider’s web outside my window.

‘I know exactly how you feel,’ I thought.

But then suddenly she broke free.

Effortlessly she hovered,
Her body pointing like an arrow.
“Follow me,” she seemed to say,
“This way is freedom.”


A Cloud’s Eye View

At the end of a violent storm in my area, I went outside to view the results. Overhead, the clouds were moving very fast.

“Does it hurt when the wind sends you tearing across the sky?” I asked.

I followed their progress from west to east with my eyes, and there I saw the rainbow.


Environ

Consider this: which is greater, the individual or the environment?
Although we may influence our environment, of which we are undoubtedly a part, I suspect its influence upon us is greater, especially in the long run.

But, look now: I am part of your environment; you are part of my environment. We are all part of each other’s environments. We are all individuals, and yet we are all environmental. We are all part of each other, and yet we are all apart from each other.

Bedimmed: Confused Insights

I get so confused sometimes,
But from this confusion emerges
Such insights!

* * *

Life is a mistake,
a beautiful mistake!

* * *

Today I came to the conclusion that I am dead, that is, nothing but a walking, talking, thinking, breathing corpse.

Then I thought, ‘that’s not something you see every day, . . . or is it?’

Could it be that awakening is merely waking up and realizing you are a corpse, surrounded by other corpses?

Then perhaps ignorance is only being a corpse and not knowing it.

Where then do you go from here?

Perhaps I should buy a plot and bury myself, or maybe I already have, and that’s where I am now.

If not, what is it that gets buried in cemeteries then? Could these be the live ones?

Or, is that just the maggots, the rodents, and the insects playing with their food? (GRINS)

Basics: Mundane Verities

After decades of trying to understand reality, I’ve only gone from:
“I need to figure this out,” to “It’s impossible to know,” to “I don’t know whether it’s possible to know or not.”

But there are a few certainties, such as,
The refrigerator does not fill itself,
Nor does the bank account spontaneously grow,
Neither does the dishwasher self-load!

Reality may unfold on its own,
But laundry does not fold itself.
Awakening may be instantaneous,
But learning how to live is not!

Bare: Straightforward Reply

I felt horribly depressed and discouraged, but for some reason it came to me: supposing I imagine I am the Buddha before all the Buddhas, the only Buddha, the original Buddha (if there ever was such a Buddha).

Then there is no one to guide me but me.

What do I do? How do I do this? How do I find my way?

The answer came at once.

I create my way.
Minute by minute,
I make the unfolding path.
With each step,
I construct the bridge,
as it grows.
The trail is blazed,
and it glows.
A beacon seen,
from miles away,
for others who may follow.

Then suddenly, I knew what I had to do,
and so I got up from my cushion,
and cooked supper.

Banter: Silly Answer

In Chinese Buddhism, or Ch’an, which later spread to Japan, where it is called Zen, the story goes that a famous master named Bodhidharma brought Buddhism to China in the 6th century. A common koan (a riddle one contemplates to obtain spiritual insight) associated with Bodhidharma is, “Why did Bodhidharma come from the West?”

Then, one day, while I was brushing my teeth, the answer came to me!

He came to find the answer to the burning question, “Why did the chicken cross the road?”

For, (my mind continued unabated) as he was strolling across the fields in ancient India, he spied a slip of rice paper being blown by the wind, and when it came his way he snatched it up. On this piece of paper he saw the question, and just had to know!

‘Somewhere out there,’ he thought, looking in the direction from which the scrap of paper had blown, ‘there must be an answer!’

And so, he made the long hazardous journey (all such journeys being long and hazardous in those days) to China.

But when he got there, he realized that these people knew nothing of the Buddha’s teaching (sometimes referred to as the Dharma), and out of compassion for the people of China decided to teach instead. Consequently, he forgot all about the chicken, until many years later when he was close to death. Then, all of a sudden he recollected the original reason for his quest.

‘I must know!’ He realized.

Hence, when, some time after he died, somebody decided to dig him up (though why that was, I don’t recall), all they found in the grave was one sandal. (Thus, it is said that if you see a man walking wearing only one sandal it could be him.)

And so, here I sit, by the side of the road the chicken crossed, waiting for Bodhidharma, so that I can provide him with the answer to this burning question.

(GRINS)

Banishment: August Musings

On the first anniversary of the beginning of my current meditation practice

During meditation I noticed that my feelings are often based on how I think I ought to feel. When I ask how I should feel, given the larger picture (in relation to the scheme of things—whatever that might be) I don’t know because I don’t know all that is happening or what is going to happen. (I probably don’t even have a clear idea of what has happened.)

The effect of this is to enable me to create distance between myself and my feelings without judging whether I should have these feelings or not. From this calmer ‘background,’ I look at the feelings, thoughts, etc., as if they are objects.

But are they really? If so, to whom do they belong? And who is it who is examining them anyway? Can the examiner be distinguished from the examined, or is this just a way of talking?

Bang: July Insights

Stepbacks

When I stepped back from my anguish
I found aversion.
Behind that
I found fear,
But, behind that fear
I found peace.
Behind that peace
Was void,
But, behind that void
Was indescribable.


Practice Discoveries

Practice makes preaching difficult.
Fortunately, when you practice,
preaching is no longer necessary.

“In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities. In the expert’s mind there are few.”
--Shujnryu Suzuki, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind


Letting Go a Little

I sat thinking,
‘I can’t do this anymore,’
but then suddenly it occurred to me,
‘Well then, stop!’

This produced a smile,
followed by a giggle.

Balm: May Moments

My Refuge

When, at last I come
Unto the land of neither,
both, and none of the above;
There I shall find my secure height;
There I shall erect my tent; and,
There shall I find my resting place.
From there I shall go out.
To there I shall return.


Ordinary Things

I don’t know
Whether I know or not,
Or whether or not
It’s possible to know
Whether I know or not,
Let alone
Whether or not knowing is possible.

And then I went out
and bought some vegetables.

All praise to the mundane!
I’d go crazy without it.

Balanced: April Haikus

View from My Window on a Windy Spring Day

A seagull circles
Chimney smokes, "Can you catch me?"
Flag and air dance.


Mind Flux

Glorious chaos
Disgusted by everything
I grin and giggle

Backhanded: March Marvels

Squirrel

I saw a squirrel breathing in a tree.
I looked up at her and she looked down at me.
We then began moving simultaneously—she vertically, I horizontally.
Do you know how I knew she was a “she?”


Wheel

I saw the wheel of life and I was holding it. I was also in the center of an even larger one, being held, but the being holding it was in the center of another wheel, held by an even greater being, and this went on forever.

Then, looking the other way, seeing the center of the wheel I was holding, there was another smaller being, who was holding an identical but smaller wheel, and inside that, at the center, was another being holding a wheel, and so on to micro-infinity.


What I’ve Been Doing

Today, I feel like a star,
a blinding sun that never got to shine.
Oh! How I wanted to fill the heavens with my light,
but I was always blocked, unrecognized.

Once, I reached for a star,
but that star was just I.
I reached out,
but there was no need.
All I really had to do was reach in.

But what good did even that do?
Is there somewhere to go from here?
Or, maybe I just can’t get there from here.

What do you do if you can’t get there from here?

Just exactly what I’ve been doing, of course!

Backfire: Impression Grabbing

I see one thing I often do in meditation is instead of being in the moment, to grab onto my impressions of it. It’s like when you tape record a single sound and replay it over and over again, creating the illusion of continuity, where there is none. You take it to be what is happening now, when in fact it’s merely a mental impression of that which was, which is now long gone, and what is happening now is something entirely different. What you are getting hung up on is not even what was, as what was no longer exits; what you are looking at or hearing is something like an after image of what was, and no longer is, and has nothing to do with the present moment, except that your impression of what was is happening now. Meanwhile, you are overlooking everything else that is happening now. You are being taken in by your own mental impression, and all you are experiencing is the image you constructed from what had already happened, but thinking this image is what’s happening. Reality has moved on, but you missed it.

Why do we do this? Could it be that we are afraid of change, and prefer the security of thinking we can grab onto something safe and secure and wrap ourselves in it? But then we are treating reality as something outside of us. Why else would we prefer this illusion to the flow of experience?

Desire for certainty leads to attachment to what is already gone; in other words, uncertainty. How silly, and yet although I know this I keep on doing it. I wonder where I picked up this habit.

No wonder I sometimes find life so boring and tedious; it’s just the way I think, not the way it is. Actually it’s changing constantly, but what I usually think of as reality is nothing of the kind, but only my thoughts, feelings, and impressions of it. Of course my thoughts, feelings, and impressions are real, but they are only a very tiny part of all that is, and if I get stuck on them I limit my vision; whereas, reality is enormous, perhaps even unlimited.

So then, when I have pain, it’s so tiny in relation to all that is, but sometimes it becomes my world, and then, as far as I am concerned it’s everything. How horrible is that! But to the extent that I can disentangle myself from this view, and see everything instead, so too, to that extent I will suffer less.

We so seldom respond to reality because we don’t know what’s going on when it’s going on, and this leads to all sorts of mistakes, which create problems for us. Instead we base our actions on pseudo-reality, the one we create because we are afraid of the flow of change, though it’s really just us in disguise.

Babble: Beginning Again - Practice Journal

On August 1, 2008, I set the goal of meditating for twenty minutes each day, and whenever it occurs to me, I write about reflections that arise from this practice, from my reading and listening, and from applying what I’ve learned to my daily life. I am now going to begin sharing these.

MARCH HAIKUS

Fog Bound

In a fog alone,
Reached out for Tara Buddha
But the fog was I.


Buried Treasure

Remaining hidden,
The best Buddhas are unknown;
Spring is always here.


The View in All Directions

Sat on a pillow,
Atop earth unsupported,
Sampling the seasons.


Silly Reasons for Meditation

Why I meditate?
I cannot tell you because,
None of it is true.

Adventitious: Finishing Up

In my last entry, I elaborated on more of the unfamiliar experiences resulting from my Buddhist practice; particularly those relating to a Buddha called Tara.

There was one more; so incredible I am not even sure what to call it, let alone how to describe it. Plus, I’m reluctant to go into it, because I don’t want to create a false impression. I don’t want people to think this is all about altered states and peak experiences, because actually it isn’t. It is easy to make this mistake, but mostly life consists of the day-to-day slogging that all of us do, facing and/or struggling with the host of obstacles or conditions we encounter. Getting caught up in bliss can be just as big an impediment to clear seeing and thinking as drowning in suffering.

Besides, I think that others have already described these sorts of states thoroughly. If you are really interested in this topic, I suggest you obtain the audio book by Jack Kornfield, entitled, After the Ecstasy, the Laundry. Here he draws from the experiences of many different people, and not just Buddhists, but also Christians, Muslims, Jews and Hindus. In fact, he argues that such experiences and states are common. I would highly recommend this book for those who would like to explore this subject further.

As far as my own insight is concerned, the most important thing is not that, but what I have been up to since that great opening to everything as it is occurred. For, quite soon after, I suddenly decided that I really needed to re-establish a regular daily meditation practice.

I opted for something relatively easy. The last time, as I discussed when I talked about my attempt to follow part of the method recommended by Jon Kabat-Zinn, the results had not been too good. I guessed that perhaps this had to do with the fact that I had pushed too hard, especially, that I had kept increasing the amount of time spent in meditation. The other thing was that I lacked the frame of reference.

It is obvious from the results that I have described that there is something more I needed. We all get this in different ways, but at the time I am writing this, this seems to be my way.

Next I will turn to my journaling on my daily practice, including resources consulted, insights, twists and turns, setbacks, and so on. Some of it may not make much sense, but I will put it up anyway for those who may benefit from it, or at least enjoy it or be entertained by it. It won’t all be serious either; so, keep your sense of humour handy. I know I will.

Advent: Ignition

In my last post, I wrote about how my Tara practice led to an experience of disappearance. This was merely the first in a series of peculiar events that occurred during one week of particularly intense Fibromyalgia pain.

The next day, I was again reduced to lying in bed moaning and groaning, but once again I was able to let go by focusing on Tara. This time, I was overcome by an intense feeling of bliss. All of my pain disappeared for a time. It was actually a bit scary because it seemed to come from nowhere. I concentrated on my breath, however, and then this cascading joy swept over me, practically lifting me off the bed. Alas, when it ended the pain returned.

During the next incident I was cooking supper. Suddenly a bright light seemed to emerge from deep inside of me, engulfing me. ‘It’s too bright! It’s too bright!’ I thought. I had to stop what I was doing and grab on to something. The light intensified, growing brighter and brighter, then exploding outward like some kind of supernova blast. I was enveloped in light and all-encompassing joy. (Interestingly, Tara is often associated with light; light and related imagery appear frequently in the 21 praises of Tara to which I alluded earlier.)

After that I was able to return to my task, had supper, and went to work. The feeling of joy persisted, however, and on my way home, I felt as if I could see the same light in everyone I saw on the street.

This all seemed amazing, incredible at the time, though I later learned that such experiences are quite common for many people who employ the sorts of practices in which I had been engaged. It turned out not to be anything special really, but it certainly felt unique back then.

Naturally, I wanted more information and kept looking for it. One place I found it was in a series of CDs called, Out of Your Mind, and other assorted talks by Alan Watts. He had an amazing way of explaining Buddhism, particularly Zen, which was so simple and yet so profound. It wasn’t until some years later that I discovered his little trick, which I am not going to reveal here; it’s much more fun for you to find out on your own. His material is all over the web; so, you should not have trouble finding it. A simple search is all it takes.

Next time, I will attempt to finish up the “My Quest” series, as I am itching to get on to writing about my current practice.

Ado: Rumours of My Disappearance

Last time, I wrote about how, in the middle of a particularly vicious Fibromyalgia attack, I fell to reflecting upon Tara Buddha’s predicament, that of being a Buddha to whom devotees continually cry out for rescue from the round of suffering of this world.

So, here I was cringing in agony, feeling sorry for this being, supposedly residing in perpetual bliss in Nirvana, and yet constantly bombarded by cries for help.

Quelle bizarre, no?

Well, I thought so anyway.

In keeping with my feelings of uselessness, I decided that the best response was for me to give her all of my merit and everything else I possessed, so that she could transform this into, . . . whatever it is that she has to transform it in to facilitate the release from suffering of everybody requesting it.

Then, as I said, everything seemed to disappear, including me, except that there seemed to be something left over, which wasn’t something, nor was it nothing. Even afterwards, I couldn’t describe whatever the not something not nothing was, or what it wasn’t. All sense of the passage of time completely disappeared as well, so that this whatever could have gone on for days for all I knew while I was in it, and as for who was left to know anything at all, I could not say.

In addition, there was also this disembodied voice (presumably mine), which said “What is this? Is it bliss? No. Is it sadness? No,” and so on.

Then there was also this kind of greyness in the whatever, which reminded me of a ripple in a pond, when a fish comes close to the surface and stirs the water slightly. Later, I formed the impression that this was where “me” went, as if I had somehow been flushed down the drain or something.

After an interval, which as I had looked at my watch shortly before this incident, I guessed to be at least twenty minutes, everything came back, including the pain, which had disappeared along with everything else.

What to make of this? I had not idea, but as it turned out this was just the movie trailer. The weirdest was yet to come.

Next time: riding the rocket.

Adjournment: the Mysteries of Tara

Last time, I wrote about some of the information I found on Tara Buddha, and my reactions to it. This time I will briefly discuss some of the practices associated with her.

There are a number of practices associated with Tara. Using her name as a mantra is probably the simplest one, and I have found this beneficial for getting me through pain, anxiety, insomnia, and all sorts of stress. There are also various mantras, the most general of which is, “Om Tara tu tareh tureh soha.” I’ve seen several different versions of the pronunciations, and I am not even sure if mine is quite right. Nevertheless, I find that if I recite it in the way I have written, it gives me a great sense of energy, which can come in handy when I am having trouble with the fatigue resulting from the pain and poor sleep caused by my Fibromyaligia.

Then there is also the 21 praises of Tara, various versions of which are easily found all over the Internet. I have been working on one of my own for quite some time, by combining different versions to make one that I like. The idea is that you recite them out loud. Again, I find this energizing and absorbing.

This being said, I was still not ready for the onslaught of health problems and pain that struck next. I’m not sure what it was about. I know that I was very busy working on a master’s degree, going to work, and later discovered that I had also been suffering from iron deficient anemia. By the Christmas break, I was exhausted and I was hit by what felt like a wall of pain that just would not let up.

I had to work a lot over Christmas, but when I wasn’t there, I spent a lot of my time lying flat on my back in agony, thinking about Tara. At one point I just kept saying her name over and over and over. Then I began to reflect on what a burden it would be to have to sit in meditation all day, having everybody talking at me, clamouring for liberation.

In Buddhism, there is the idea of accumulating merit or good Karma (as well as bad Karma), and in Tibetan practice the idea that you can actually share your good Karma with others. Reflecting on Tara’s situation, I thought, ‘whatever merit I may have, the way I see it, you need it more than I do, Tara; so, why don’t you just take it? In fact, why don’t you just take everything!’

And, with that (I don’t know how else to say this), at that very moment, everything disappeared, including me!!! (blinks)

Next time: where did everything go? Or, who turned out the lights?

Adept: The Irrepressible Tara

In my last post, I wrote about some of the benefits of the loving-kindness meditation practice demonstrated by Jack Kornfield, in Beginner’s Guide to Buddhism, and my inexplicable reaction to reading about a certain Buddha named Tara. To reiterate, “I’ve found you at last!” I exclaimed. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!!!”

In Tibetan Buddhism Tara represents many virtues, compassionate wisdom being chief among them. She has many faces or aspects, but most importantly in my case, she is associated with healing. As Wikipedia puts it, “she expresses maternal compassion and offers healing to beings who are hurt or wounded, either physically or psychically.” There are mantras associated with her, but it is said in Tibetan folklore that simply calling her name is enough to invoke her powers.

Is she considered real? Yes and no. My impression is that she is a symbolic representation of various elements of the feminine aspect in all of us. Coincidentally perhaps, as I understand it, in traditional Chinese medicine it is an imbalance between masculine and feminine forces that causes ill health.

‘Could this be what I was lacking?’ I wondered.

Or, maybe it was the legend that impressed me so much. For, one version of the story goes that once upon a time, “millions of years in the past,” there was a princess named “Yeshe Dawa,” who became a very advanced student of Buddhism, under the Buddha of that particular era. Some, undoubtedly ignorant male monks then made the foolish mistake of suggesting to her that if she really wanted to make progress, she ought to come back in her next life as a man. (Oops!) Her reaction was along the lines of, “excuse me, there’s something wrong with being female!? Hmm? And just to show you how dumb you are, not only am I not going to do that, but I am going to achieve Buddhahood as a woman. So there!!!” (What a woman!)

And, you guessed it, she did exactly that! She then sat down in “meditation for some ten million years,” which resulted in the liberation of “tens of millions of beings.”

Is that cool, or what! LOL I certainly thought so. On my good days, she is like a spirit friend, on my not so good days she is like a guru (spiritual guide), and on my really bad days, she’s like a Mother. You know those days, when you feel like screaming, “MOMMY!!!” That’s how I feel about her.

Next time: more about Tara and practices associated with her.

Actuation: I am Inspired

Last time, I wrote about the mixed results I obtained when I attempted to apply the instructions supplied for loving-kindness meditation by Jack Kornfield, in his audio book, Beginner’s Guide to Buddhism. It helped to some extent with my anxiety but paradoxically the resulting muscle relaxation actually increased my awareness of the pain caused by my Fibromyaligia.

One thing I learned from this, however, is that it is possible to change one’s attitude towards others and the world in general. By this I mean that contrary to what I had formerly believed—that what you feel is what you feel—you can cultivate certain feelings and attitudes, especially compassion towards yourself and others. This is certainly better than judging everything all the time, which many of us tend to do, and I did experience an overall increase in well being, at least on the days when the pain lessened.

Interestingly, this practice is recommended as an antidote to ill will (excessive anger, resentment, hatred and bitterness), and I would certainly concur that if you experience ill will (which many people who have a lot of pain or other kinds of distress do) this practice may help you. Not that you should let people put you down, but practicing compassion may help you to see the other fellow/gal’s point of view, which may help you resolve your conflicts in a more effective and mutually beneficial way.

Encouraged by my, albeit limited, success, I therefore kept looking for other practices that could help, as I still needed something, and these sorts of practices did at least appear promising. I was not, however, prepared for what happened next.

Thinking back upon what I had studied so far, I had always meant to look for information on Tara, the Buddha of compassionate wisdom. M. D. Eckel mentioned her in his lecture series on Buddhism (which I cited earlier), and I had been curious about her then, since, so far, I had encountered almost no mention of women’s role in Buddhism. There seemed to be lots of male Buddhas and famous male teachers/masters, etc., but almost no female ones.

When I looked up Tara on the Internet, however, my own reaction astonished me.

“I’ve found you at last!” I exclaimed. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!!!”

WHAT was this about and WHERE did it come from? Even I did not know.

Next time: out of my mind?

Actuality: Almost, but not quite

Previously, I presented an abbreviated version of the instructions provided by Jack Kornfield, in his audio book, Beginner’s Guide to Buddhism (Louisville, USA: Sounds True 2002), on loving-kindness meditation, which I attempted as part of my search for a method to ease the suffering of my Fibromyalgia.

When I tried this meditation, I found that, like a good book, I was unable to put it down. I went to bed that night feeling very good indeed. I had modified it to wish myself well, literally, having really bought into the idea that this could make a difference to my health.

When I woke up the next morning, however, I felt absolutely rotten, and was correspondingly furious. All I had accomplished was to make myself feel even worse, as the meditation simply made me aware of how awful I felt by making me feel better for a short time. It hadn’t really helped at all. There was no way that wishful thinking was going to make a difference, or so I concluded. ‘What a waste of time!’ I complained, and proceeded to move on to other things.

I then listened to a variety of other materials, some interesting, some less, so, but found nothing in them other than temporary diversions, or something to do when I felt too ill to move. Nevertheless, other audio books I would recommend by Jack Kornfield include, Your Buddha Nature (Louisville, USA: Sounds True 2000, containing several interesting and/or enjoyable meditations), Roots of Buddhist Psychology (Ibid, 1996), and Path with a Heart (Ibid, 2006, an autobiographical account of Kornfield’s experiences as a monk, and the aftermath of his return from this 10 year period of intensive practice abroad).

Paradoxically, though I can’t remember why, I drifted back to loving-kindness meditation again, and this time, perhaps due to the adoption of more realistic expectations, actually found that it did do me some good, at least psychologically. But how you feel about your circumstances is just as important as your circumstances; so, I suppose this makes some sense.

I continued on with this every day for about six months and found that it certainly made me a little calmer, a very important result, given that pain generates anxiety, which in turn increases pain. Hence, anything that reduces anxiety tends to reduce pain. But then, I encountered the unfortunate truth that muscle tension also masks pain, and found that over time my pain was worsened due to this phenomenon. Sheesh! Sometimes you just can’t win!!!

Next time: if you don’t like being weirded out, stop reading now. Otherwise, fasten your safety straps and prepare yourself for a mind-warping ride!

Activity: Loving-kindness Meditation

Last time, I wrote on my impression of Jack Kornfield’s introduction to the practice of loving-kindness meditation, in his audio book (Beginner’s guide to Buddhism, Louisville, USA: Sounds True 2002), which I hoped might provide a method for me to obtain some kind of relief from the chronic pain of the Fibroymalgia from which I suffer. What follows is a partial transcription of the guided meditation on this practice.

“. . . be aware that every being is given a certain measure of sorrows in this life and . . . wish that their sorrows and struggles be held with the tenderness of compassion.”

Kornfield then instructs his listeners to sit comfortably, close their eyes, focus on the breath in the area of the heart, breathing in and out of that area. Then the practice starts with an exercise in forgiveness.

“The first direction of forgiveness” is asking for it. “There are many ways in which I have hurt or harmed others knowingly and unknowingly. I remember these now. Let yourself feel and remember the sorrows you carry from having brought harm to other beings. In the ways that I have harmed them out of my own confusion, fear, out of my pain and ignorance, in this moment, I ask their forgiveness. May I be forgiven, may I be forgiven.”

The process is then repeated towards oneself and towards others who have harmed one, with the caveat on the last one to forgive others “to the extent that I am ready,” acknowledging that forgiveness to others may take some time.

The next part involves well wishing directed towards our selves, then loved ones/benefactors, followed by neutral persons (those we see regularly but don’t know), “difficult people,” and finally everyone.

Examples of suggested phrases include, “may I/you be filled with loving-kindness, be safe from inner and outer dangers, be well, be peaceful and truly happy.”

He closes with, “may we live with the great heart of loving-kindness. May we carry the spirit of compassion from this meditation into our thoughts and our deeds. May it be so.”

Kornfield then suggests, “take these practices and work with them in your own way, with your own phrases.”

Next time: where this took me.

Action: Something New

Last time, I wrote about Jack Kornfield’s summary of the major traditions of Buddhism, his version of the practice of mindfulness meditation (Beginner’s guide to Buddhism, Louisville, USA: Sounds True 2002), and how none of this seemed to give me the answer I was seeking of how to get through the day without screaming due to the fiery furnace of pain in which I was immersed on account of the condition known as Fibromyaligia.

Kornfield then introduced another kind of meditation, however, called “loving-kindness meditation,” also known as “metta” in the Pali language (the language of the Buddhist scriptures upon which the Theravada version of Buddhism is largely based).

He began with, “[the] practice of mindful attention and mindful freedom is balanced with the practice of loving compassion,” and went on to assert, “it is possible to reawaken and strengthen [the] innate compassion that is a part of every human heart.”

Okay, I was with him so far, and though I couldn’t see what good it would do me, at least it was something new to try.

But then, he added, “to do this practice brings happiness and joy,” which immediately sparked my interest.

“One traditionally begins by reflecting on the benefits of a loving heart,” he said.

“When the heart becomes full of loving kindness (said the Buddhist text), our dreams become sweet, we fall asleep more easily and waken contented. We have good health. Angels will love and protect us and men and women will love us as well. It’s said that as the heart deepens in loving kindness people will welcome us everywhere. Our thoughts become pleasant; our voice is sweeter and our children are happy in the womb and growing up; [and], dangers will not harm us. If we fall off a cliff a tree will be there to catch us, and we will bring the blessings of compassion to whatever we touch.”

If all this sounds implausible to you, just imagine how it sounded to me, but ohhhhh, if only!!! Nevertheless, I laughed, and thought, ‘yeah, right. Pull the other one!’ (rolled eyes)

On the other hand, I had nothing to lose except my agony; so . . . next time, I will take up the story again, with the details of this practice, as explained and demonstrated by Jack Kornfield.

Abridgement: The Three Traditions

Last time, I wrote about my reaction to Jack Kornfield’s discussion of the four noble truths, in his audio book, Beginner’s Guide to Buddhism, and how this still did not seem to supply a method to help me get through the day without screaming due to the ongoing suffering caused by my Fibromyaligia. Parts of the theory sounded good, though; so, I kept listening.

At the end of his description, he summarized the major Buddhist traditions, which he divided into Theravada, Mahayana (e.g., Zen and Ch’an), and Vajrayana or Tibetan. Theravada seemed to have a moralistic slant, emphasizing “strict monastic discipline, [and] purification,” but this was not what I was seeking. Here, once again too, was the identification of the causes of suffering as “grasping” and “clinging,” which puzzled me.

The point of the prescribed practices was to achieve release from “clingings,” and thereby “come to Nirvana.” If so, this was not for me. Nor was Tibetan Buddhism, “the path of devotion and prayer.” I’d already tried plenty of that; I’d prayed my butt off, in fact, to no avail. Guru worship sounded downright dangerous, and the psychic transmission of ancient wisdom simply ridiculous, nor was I ready to embrace the idea of reincarnation of accomplished masters, or anyone else for that matter!

In fact, of these three, right away I was attracted to Zen, though I had not found anything helpful on it elsewhere. For, as I noted in an earlier post, the Zen of Thich Nhat Hanh as I found it in his audio book, The Heart of Understanding (Berkeley, USA: Parallax Press, 1987), neither made sense to me, nor appealed to me. Nevertheless, the simplicity of letting go of all desires (how ever one does that!) sounded good. The complexity and ritualistic nature of the other traditions, as described by Kornfield, put me off, and I certainly wasn’t in any condition to go off and seek ordination!

Now, at last, he moved on to talking about meditation, but the first meditation was similar to what I had tried before when I had read the work of Jon Kabat-Zinn. I didn’t really feel I could benefit from it. No way could I be “with the pains” of the body or “open” to them. That was not happening!!! I could barely stand being in the same room with me, let alone opening to the intense forest fire raging constantly and deeply through my body. (Nevertheless, I’d recommend Kornfield’s guided meditation for those interested in this practice, as he does it superbly!)

What was the answer, then? I still did not know. But then he introduced something I had not heard of before, and next time I will write about where this led me.

Aboveboard: The Four Noble Confusion

Last time, I began to talk about my reaction to the audio book, Beginner’s Guide to Buddhism, by Jack Kornfield. I was very attracted by the idea that there could be a way out of the terrible suffering caused by my Fibromyalgia, but as yet was not clear how this could possibly be so, and I wasn’t so sure about Buddhism either. The four noble truths outlined by Kornfield—suffering/dissatisfaction, the causes of suffering, the cessation of suffering, and the path out of suffering—seemed straightforward enough, but the details were less so.

I thought the truth of suffering was fairly obvious, given my situation, but the causes he described were not. I really wanted to know the causes, but “grasping and clinging!?” I hadn’t expected that. He went on to say that these “[lead] to greed, hatred and delusion, which creates suffering.”

At this point he completely lost me, because I thought my pain was my problem, but then he picked it up again, with the very true and relevant fact that we always want things to be a certain way but inevitably find that they are not, and then we suffer.

When it came to the truth of the cessation of suffering—Nirvana or liberation—of course, that sounded good—though I knew nothing about it. He said this happens when we give up “the body of fear;” when we “quiet the mind and open the heart,” then we can achieve liberation. But the “how” was still missing! How do we make this happen?

He said that the path leading to the cessation of suffering is “the middle path, or the eight-fold path, . . . when we live in the reality of the present . . . [and] respond with compassion rather than react with greed, hatred or delusion.”

He listed the 8 parts of the path and briefly described them. While this was interesting it didn’t make much of an impression on me. More importantly, as far as I was concerned, was the idea that you can learn to be here and know you’re here without suffering from or getting caught up in what’s happening, but instead to respond to this present wisely and compassionately. The moral tone of some aspects of the path did not appeal to me, as I wasn’t feeling very well disposed towards anyone else, having been rejected and put down because of this invisible burden I was carrying around.

I was ready for some serious relief, but how could I get it?

Next time: Enough about theories, what about specific methods!?

About-turn: Buddha’s Story

As explained earlier, the searing pain of Fibromyalgia motivated me to seek answers. Having already exhausted the affordable medical and naturopathic options, I immersed myself in an imaginary realm of my own creation. In the process of attempting to manufacture this escape route I decided I had to create a religion for one of my characters. Searching the Internet for ideas brought me back to Buddhism. Last time, I concluded that while this expedition had revitalized my fiction, it had not improved my reality. Then, I stumbled across an audio book by Jack Kornfield called, Beginner’s Guide to Buddhism (Louisville, USA: Sounds True 2002).

In this work, Kornfield explains that he is going to describe the “essential practices and teachings offered by the Buddha,” which originated 2500 years ago. “The word Buddha means one who has awakened . . . to their true nature and sees it in all beings,” he says, adding “we too can discover this in ourselves and the teachings of Buddhism are a way to fulfill that reality.”

‘Okay, Jack, but how in the world is this going to help me?’ I silently complained to thin air.

But by this time I was so desperate and I felt so ill that I lacked the energy to get up and turn the flipping thing off, so I continued listening anyway.

Now I learned that prior to his awakening, the Buddha lived a sheltered privileged life, but one day his view of the world was shattered by his observation of the prevalence of suffering, in the form of sickness, aging, and death. At the same time, he discovered that others too were already seeking answers to the problem of how to respond to these unpleasant realities. At once, he resolved to join in this quest. After years of searching and struggle he finally found a way to free himself from suffering. Out of compassion he committed himself to teach others the path to liberation.

This bit caught my attention, to say the least, but then he broke off from the tale and explained how he became a monk in a monastery, where he learned the practices of this path.

Then, returning to the thread, he identified the central core of the teachings as "The Four Noble Truths." These are: the truth of suffering or dissatisfaction (which I thought I already knew all too well), the causes of suffering (which I had concluded were pain and more pain), the cessation of suffering (I wish!!!), and the path to this end (I can hardly wait!!!).

Next time: okay, I’ve heard the truths, but I’m still suffering. Now what?

Abounding: Sampling Errors

Last time, I wrote about how the suffering of Fibromyalgia drove me to seek solace in the fantasy life from which much of my creative writing emerged. I then described how this strategy produced a fictional character for whom I needed to invent a religion. Lastly, I outlined how my internet research on the topic re-ignited my interest in Buddhism, and summarized a few of my past experiences with meditation based on the work of John Kabat-Zinn.

In the course of my Internet searching, I came across a confusing and often conflicting assortment of web pages, books and audio books. There is a wealth of information out there, but what good does that do when it’s so disordered?

Eventually, I began to notice certain patterns, however. For example, Ajahn Brahm has a lot of material out there. A good place to start is the Buddhist Society of Western Australia. There’s a lot to see on this site, but what grabbed me first was his theme of happiness. For a while, I was determined (foolishly, no doubt) that all I had to do was decide to be happy and all would be well. For a few days I was deliriously happy and then I crashed again, as I usually do when I get a hold of one of these popular ideas.

Oh yes, the self-help book/video/audio madness is still going strong. We may feel ill but the get-well-quick-business is very healthy. I don’t think Ajahn Brahm is part of that show, but his ‘advertising campaign,’ style sometimes strikes me as a little over-the-top, and there are hints of a hardness behind it that doesn’t appeal to me. Nevertheless, I am sure that some of you will find some comfort and wisdom in his message, as well as humour.

The Vietnamese, Zen Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, is quite popular too, though I had trouble understanding his perspective. After listening to, The Heart of Understanding (Berkeley, USA: Parallax Press, 1987), in the notes I filed with it, I wrote, “Most of this is sheer fantasy, containing many contradictions, but he spins a good tale.” I later discovered that a lot of what I had found concerned a difficult Mahayana Buddhist concept called “emptiness.” It made no sense to me then; hence I moved on.

The Teaching Company has an entertaining course on Buddhism, taught by David Malcolm Eckel, for those seeking a general understanding of Buddhism, and it certainly helped with my fictional religion construction. I, on the other hand, had already embarked on a journey of another kind, entered a completely different boat, or plane or bus from the one I thought I had intended to, but had not yet noticed.

Next time, everything is turned upside-down again, but I still don’t catch on.

Abeyance: False Start

As described last time, in my search for a way to escape the suffering of Fibromyalgia, I resurrected an old writing project and immersed myself in it, or more accurately, in the fantasy life from which this story had emerged. The creation of a certain character in this speculative fantasy—a mad monk—meant that I had to go back and create a religion for him to follow.

Then, while trolling the internet for information on various religions, I came across quite a bit of Buddhist material.

‘Oh yes, Buddhism,’ I thought. ‘I always intended to get back to that someday,’ though I could not remember where or when I’d first heard about it.

I had had some sporadic experiences with meditation in the past, and in the 1990s had seen Bill Moyers’ series, “The Healing Mind.” In one particular episode, Jon Kabat-Zinn’s use of mindfulness meditation and yoga to help people suffering from chronic pain and illness were highlighted. I was impressed. Later, I came across his book, Wherever You Go, There You Are, Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life (New York, USA: Hyperion 1994), which I would highly recommend for beginners looking for an introduction to this practice.

I also purchased a copy of Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom of Your Body and Mind to Face Stress Pain and Illness (New York, USA: Delta 1990). I tried to follow some of the regimen outlined in the book, but really only got as far as the meditation on the breath. I started a meditation diary, and began with ten minutes of meditation a day, increasing it to up to an hour a day over a period of 8 weeks.

Then, just as abruptly, I ceased this practice. My diary records that although there were moments of comfort and relaxation, tremendous difficulties and struggle, pain, intense restlessness, and strong unpleasant emotions predominated. For example, on one occasion I wrote, “preoccupied, angry, hurting, anxious,” and near the end of my practice, “difficult, bitter, depressed, down, despairing, discouraged, angry, struggle, turmoil, overwhelming.” I just could not continue anymore.

Jon Kabat-Zinn’s emphasis was on mindfulness, however, and now I was looking for information about religions. Hence, I began to refresh my memory about what Buddhism was all about (along with other religious traditions, which don’t come into this tale). It was this exploration that led me to some new methods to try, though I wasn’t really looking for anything like that.

Next, I will write about these new discoveries.

Abatement: The plot takes me

Previously, I explained what led me to start this blog; namely, to give an account of my search to find a way to get through the day without screaming, in the event that it might benefit others.

To begin with I sought relief through escapism. From the time I was very young, I displayed an aptitude for making up stories and songs. When I was about seven years old I began to write poetry and imaginative prose. At some point, I got the idea that I wanted to write a novel, and that notion has been following me around ever since. Every now and then I pull one of my many writing projects out from the back of the closet and give it another going over.

My most recent bout of nostalgia was triggered by a desperate desire to disappear into something, ANYTHING!!! that would get me away from my pain.

In fact, I became quite obsessed with working on this thing, to the exclusion of everything else.

My preoccupation eventually became so central to my existence that it was all I could talk about, and I sullenly bristled at any attempt to get me off this topic, because I felt as if it was the only thing that was preventing me from going out of my mind with pain at this point.

Meanwhile, I continued to work on this project—rapidly transmogrifying into a multi-part saga—but right in the middle of this I had also started writing some fan fiction for a science fiction web site, and—you guessed it—bits of my narrative began to leak out onto the virtual page as well.

The first story I wrote in collaboration with another member, who had a penchant for adding forum members as characters. I continued this tradition in the following stories, but only after obtaining people’s permission and feedback about what sort of roles they wanted. (I also read their posts to get an idea of their likes and dislikes, and asked them questions to fill in the details.)

One member asked to be a villain, a mad monk, in fact, and I obliged. As a result of this inclusion, I suddenly realized that I now had to invent a religion to go with my already voluminous tale!

In my next entry, I will reveal how this turn of events led me to a possible path through my agony.

Abandonment: What do you do when nothing works?

I'm not sure where my story begins. I will therefore start with the moment of my desperate realization that I needed to find a way to get through the day without screaming!

What was this about?

One word: PAIN!!!

I suffer from a condition that is known by various names in different parts of the world, but it was introduced to me as, Fibromyaligia.

What is Fibromyalgia?

This baffling and disabling condition causes a wide variety of unpleasant symptoms, but the one that drove my search for relief is the inferno that burns through my chest, shoulders and back.

What is this like?

Imagine the last time you saw a clip of somebody on fire. This is how I feel when I get one of the attacks, which can last for weeks at a time.

There is always some pain, however, and I take pain medication three times a day for the regular simmering agony, but this only dulls it down somewhat.

During the major attacks, only Tylenol 3 seems to help, but since my condition already causes poor sleep, drowsiness, and fatigue, (common side effects of the codeine found in Tylenol 3), by the time I add that to the mix, I might as well not be here at all!

While I am here, I would really like to know I'm here, thank you! Otherwise, what's the point?

Don't get me started on how many remedies I have tried. Everything from A to Z and back again that I can reasonably afford has already been tried.

So, this is not another site about the latest "miracle," cure or whatever. I've seen enough of those already, and I bet you have too. No, I'm through with all that.

Next time, I will begin to tell you about where my search for an alternative has led me so far.