Burning: Carrying On Some More

Still recovering from
My latest bout of ill fortune,
Back on the cushion I went.
But in my first session
I could only sit
And hold a pose,
And even this taxed me.

Today, I tried again
But I could barely stay vertical,
Pitted against wave after wave of
Fatigue and dread.
Rage arose unbidden afterwards,
Frustration seethed and foamed.

‘Why can’t I do better?’ I demanded.
I wanted to lie down,
But, ‘I’m determined to sit
And face the enemy,’ I declared.
‘But what enemy?’ I wondered,
‘And how can I bring
The power of the mind
To bear upon
These latest obstacles?’

And then I recalled the time,
Just recently,
When my back gave out again,
When in between my anguished cries,
The metta phrases arose,
Like the breaks between the waves
As they crash upon the shore.

I glimpse peace intermittently,
No matter what I’m clinging to,
The peace that’s always there;
And, although my awareness is repeatedly swamped
By the wind-tossed waves, always I remember,
And always I see again,
And so I carry on.

Burdensome: Carrying On

Oh my!
What an atrocious stomach flu that was!

Nothing to do
But be mindful,
And to metta my way
And count my breaths all day.

The great adventure continued
Through
This most unpleasant illness.

That 5 days
Felt like
The longest
I can recall,
Perhaps because I was there
For most of it.

But, as well,
There was a new determination
In between,
Even the darkest moments
Of despair.

I’m still wiped out.
I make myself move about,
But at times I still feel
Barely here at all.

Thoughts of the past
Crept in
Of other such times,
And I am sure that
When the mist clears
I will see
They’ll yet be
Another mountain to climb.

Detour

My plans have been derailed by stomach flu; so, I have to take some time out to recover.

I will be back soon!

Lee

Burden: Carrying Forward

Today I noticed tension
In the abdomen,
But when I relaxed it
Hyperventilation ensued.

After gasping for a few minutes
I tensed up, and slowed it down.
Then very carefully I loosened up,
And felt a huge exhale, right to the ground.

Then the breath churned wildly:
Back and forth
Up and down
All over the place.

There was great fear
Over this lack of control,
As wave after wave
Took hold and let go.

After the sitting was done
A story arose about
Where this pattern came from,
A great tale was spun.

When I noticed this I stopped in surprise,
For why did I need this consolation prize?
It gave me a sense of control I surmised,
But at what price?

Facing reality, naked moment by naked moment,
Is scarier than resting in stories, it seems.
Awareness feels like a precarious business,
Waiting for what happens next or what we do not yet see.

And so, after the sit, evidently I preferred
To immerse myself in speculations and conclusions,
Rather than facing the unknown,
And simply accepting my fear and confusion.

Buoyant: Floating Home

Foaming with rage
I write another page.
I sit beside the wall,
the mighty obstacle.

What do I need?
How do I find it?
What method applies?
And how do I use it?

Quietly, cautiously,
I peek out from my secret place,
My hermitage under the rocks,
At the base of the barrier.

I feel so alone,
But I let this feeling expand
Until it fills everything,
Then as quickly dissipates.

What was that?
Nothing it seems.
The barricade fell,
And the loneliness dissolved.

What am I to make of this?
Perhaps it’s just a habit,
This hide and seek,
A prehensile tale.

If I don’t grab at it
It disintegrates;
My obstruction weakens
And my path beckons.

There is peace once again,
And silence in the glen.
The water laps softly
By the rocky shore.

Bunched: Walking the Wall

Feeling the hot winds
Racing through my mind:
Frustration is the theme.
Once again, I revisit this topic.

Examining frustration:
What to do with it?
How does this fit with practice?
I am clueless.

So I sat looking at it,
Pondering what frustration is like.
Unsatisfactoryness certainly comes into it,
Another word for suffering, as I understand it.

Ah, there’s where it belongs,
The crux of the issue,
And I’m sitting in the middle of it.
How normal is that?

But it doesn’t feel normal,
It feels patently unfair;
I rant against it,
And my resistance feels completely right.

Still where does this get me?
I bet you can guess.
There’s nowhere else
That I prefer less.

It’s nose to the wall,
And I feel so oppressed.
I can’t see past it,
And so I long for rest.

If I can just find some peace,
Perhaps that would be best,
But of what use is such temporary respite
In the face of such a mighty obstacle?
Only acceptance seems to hold out any hope for success.

Bunch: Sticky

All is suffering:
I think I get it,
But then I lose it
Get it again, lose it,
Until I’m fed up.

How long does it take
To finally get it?
The answer is stop clinging
But how do I do that?
It’s the eight-fold path,
Or so I gather.

I put some cream in my coffee,
And listened to some more dharma chatter.
Sometimes I feel it doesn’t matter,
But that is merely the hindrance of doubt (or so I’ve heard).
I’m certainly having a bout of skepticism,
And have run out of witticisms.

As I sip my coffee
I reflect upon what I’ve learned,
And on my regrets.
I can’t seem to forget
The price I’ve paid
To get this far.
The bar is high,
And I could use a bit of help.

When I find my way
I’ll be off again,
And it is my hope that
No loss no gain,
No praise or blame,
No success or failure,
No pleasure or pain,
No fame or disrepute
Will disrupt my route.
I’ve planted the seed,
And now I await the fruit.

Bumpy: Nightlight

Insomnia attack
But freedom came back.
To be with rage and fear
But not disturbed by it
Was exhilarating, liberating,
Like looking at the stars
Laying in the bottom of a rowboat.

The stars are full of heat,
Intense solar winds,
Immense gravitational forces,
Dynamic, chaotic, explosive.
But on a still lake
In the calm of the night,
They are a beautiful sight.

Freedom is in this too,
Every thought, sensation,
And feeling;
There’s nothing to fear
In any of these,
Naught to shrink from,
But only to observe and know,
No need to act on that seen
But just to be.

Always seeing light and dark:
Searching for the glow,
While travelling through the gloom.
When looking for one
Find the other.
Forever free,
Yet sometimes just don’t see it,
But every time seeing it
Only have to be it.

Looking deeply,
Even into misery,
There is freedom there too.

Bumper: Freedom Update

Stumbled out of bed
Looking for freedom.
Peered into the coffee,
Examined the toast,
Played with the oatmeal,
But didn’t find it.

Preparing to go
And somebody phoned.
Animated conversation ensued,
Sweeping away all thoughts of
This freedom, so eagerly sought
Only moments before.

Out the door,
Down the road,
Forgot all day,
Even when dining
With a friend,
And after we parted.

Then to the meditation group,
So preoccupied,
Everything was barely noticed,
Could not maintain any focus,
Misplaced mindfulness,
Moment after moment.

The trip home,
Not even remembered,
Yet somehow arrived,
And then freedom returned,
But what had been learned?
It had been dropped anyway.

It’s difficult to say
What use was made of this day.
Lost and found seems to be the theme,
Over and over passing this way,
But never seem to stay.

Bump: Blundering into Freedom

I slept badly,
And based on this result
Concluded how my day would be
“My day is shot!” I decided,
But how foolish as
I hadn’t even gotten out of bed.

Then I noticed that
As “my day was shot!”
I chose to cook breakfast,
Which takes longer.
‘Interesting, let’s see what happens,’
I thought.

Although I was less productive
Than I would have liked,
I completed the usual tasks,
In the usual time and way;
So I would have to say,
‘Same difference.’

The exception to this plan
Was the freedom that I found
When at last I meditated;
It was present in everything and everywhere I looked,
I felt downright unhooked
By this unexpected insight.

Thus, no matter how I wake up
I can never tell
What kind of day I will have.
Why then, do I think I know?
Why not, just get up and go?
Perhaps I will get that tomorrow.

Seeing freedom is one thing
But how do I live it?
Perhaps I will not discover that either
Until I stop looking for it.

Bull’s-eye: Centre Stage

Ten days of back pain,
What an ordeal,
But what a chance to practice
With all my methods.

Today’s a little better (so far),
What a relief,
But I’m keeping up my vigilance
For the next development.

There’s something else
Coming at me from somewhere
I hope I can be ready;
All I can do is prepare.

I’m dancing on air
From this bit of ease,
But clinging will sink me.
How can I release?

It’s so difficult to realize
This peace is temporary,
But it’s the key to my progress
To give up this fantasy.

I’m reluctant to look
Outside this dream,
To perceive the reality
Of perpetual fragility.

I don’t want to let go
Of this warm feeling.
When I see it leave
I will likely grieve.

There’s so much to mourn
On this lengthy journey.
At every turn I take
There’s another goodbye to make.

Bulletin: Body Talk

Exercising mindfully
With pain
Is interesting.
I’m rarely more aware
When I’m active,
Than when I’m moving
The body in this fashion.

The reaction is often
Quite unexpected,
As is the reaction
To the reaction.
It’s always a surprise
Which parts hurt
And which feel comfortable.
Plus, so many times I complain
And it’s so often the same
That I wonder why I bother.

These habits of mind
Are so well established
And hard to stop
That during this process
My compassion also
Gets a work out.
My loving-kindness
Gets trotted out,
My equanimity develops,
And my patience grows,
In response to the challenge of
Having and caring for an aging body,
Being with this fragile frame,
This temporary state of affairs
That all too soon will be
Replaced by some other process.

All of this I notice
When I exercise
In this mindful way.

Bulky: Confounding Among the Dust Mites

On the floor
I counted breaths,
And my wondering mind
Pondered my attachment
To a pattern of attachment.
I have this habit of
Getting hung up on
Certain people,
But when I asked
What this hang up was
This made me pause.

For who is getting caught
If there is no who,
But only sensations,
Feelings and thoughts?
And if these are merely
Happenings, or processes,
What is being grasped at?
Nothing in fact.
It’s just grasping,
Which is the cause of suffering.

But how does it get stopped?
How do I do that?
For who is “I” anyway,
But only sensations,
Feelings and thoughts?
So, how can “I” stop?
Or, is this stopping only
Something that occurs
Spontaneously,
In which case “I” stopping
It would make no sense.

So, who is it who stops suffering,
And who is it who stops it?

Then mind let go again for a while,
And there was only breath.

Bulk: Metta Reaction

Last night I tried
A new tactic:
Laying on my back
I tried to relax.
I focused on being
In my body,
Then brought attention
To how I felt.

When I shifted my attention
Towards the pain in my back
I felt like I was having
A compassion attack!
My body jerked from this
Discharge of energy,
Which embraced my back
Like a shower of soft light.

The pain subsided
And I smiled.
A vibration arose
In my chest,
Passed up through
My throat,
And emerged as
Laughter.

Oh, what a relief!
Though temporary,
As the pain returned
After a time.

But what a laugh!
What a smile!
It kept me going
For quite a while.
This Compassion juice
It packs a punch.
It’s gentle affection,
Has a powerful touch.

Bulging: Rough Seas

I thought I had the day
Well in hand,
But I had a phone call
That threw me out of my way.
Then I had an unproductive
Afternoon,
And soon the back pain
Returned again.

There’s always something
I want to push away,
Some inconvenience or irritation
From which I’d like to escape.
I get so tired from fighting
You’d think I’d give up,
But my resistance keeps coming
And it wears me right out.
Yet still I remain determined
To follow through to
The end of suffering.

When I find myself in doubt,
I try to move from
‘I can’t do this,
I will never be able to do this,
I’m trapped,
I’m stuck,
I’m doomed;’

To, ‘I’m not sure,’
To, ‘Maybe/perhaps I can,’
To, ‘I will try and see what happens,’
To, ‘This is what happens,
And I will explore the results with
An attitude of curiosity.’

‘This could be just a bad patch,’
I say, ‘Or it could be I’m doomed,
But either way, only could be, could be, could be.’

Bulge: Continuation

Another night and day of pain,
But today’s lesson
Was on the topic of
Self-pity, in which
I seemed to be wallowing
Pretty heavily.

What is this feeling?
And which is worse:
The pain or the pity?
Upon examination
I found aversion.
I wanted to escape
This body of discomfort.

I shrank from
The pity as well, however;
I did not like it
How can I take it?
Can I alter it,
Or my attitude
In spite of it?

I changed my strategy,
Tried to be next to the pain
Instead of looking down on it.
We are together in this, I decided,
Are really one not divided.
I sat down beside it,
And tried not to fight it.
There was no delight in it
But the aversion subsided
And I felt lighter for it.

Self-pity feels heavy,
But compassion is feather-weighted.
It’s gentle and companionable,
Kindly and patient,
No stranger to unhappiness,
Unafraid of unpleasantness.

Built-in: Recovery

Today as yesterday,
And the two days before,
I had to meditate
From lying face down
On the floor.

My back is refusing
To accept any other position.
It will not tolerate
Anything on chair or cushion.

This awkward place
Lying on my face
Is so like to
Where I found myself
On the pavement
Last night.

It’s a wonder
I did not pause
At that time
To take a few breaths
Before my upward climb.
Instead I bounced back up
With such alacrity;
I amazed myself with
My agility.

I was so soft and relaxed
From all the metta
I’d been doing
I barely felt a thing
At the instant of that impact.

Now today unexpectedly
My triceps are aching fiercely,
So much so I had trouble exercising.
You never know what will be
In the next moment’s arising;
It’s often surprising.

Buildup: Ouchie!

Cause and effect
When will you end?
I slipped on an icy spot
On the pavement
And fell flat on my face.
Then I was into a race
To clean up the mess
From the sidewalk
And the juice and
The yogurt in my pocket.
Wouldn’t you know it,
The only time my pockets
Were full it had to happen
That way.

Woe, woe, that I should drop
On the street
Falling right off my feet
With my pockets overflowing
With some treats
I had obtained to eat
As a snack for my tummy.
They would have been yummy,
But instead I had to fall on
My front and receive the brunt
All over my clothes.

Then home I had to go
For a shower and a change,
Then rush around deranged
To get to work on time.
I was hoping for a break
But not this one!

I sure hope nothing important broke,
But I fear my back will
Make big complaints,
Later on tonight or when I awake. Ouch!

Oh, blast this cause and effect!

Building: Foundation

The bitterness of my cup this day
Was all about what happened yesterday.
I could not stop thinking about
How bad that was.
Worrying about my back pain
(Albeit still present To some degree),
I fussed and stewed
About the unfairness
And dismay;
What a waste
But how human of me.

Besides this unwise behaviour
The simplicity of the solution,
The change that cheered me
Was simply:
Tea bag in hot water
With milk.

This tiny act
And the savouring
Of the result of
This small flavouring
Of my unskillful clinging
Produced great relief
And relaxation.

I smiled with happiness
At this miniscule delight,
This tiny dot on reality’s stage,
This little pixel of respite,
This bitter taste that displaced
The bitter tang of defeat.

How easily pleased is the mind,
How readily fooled,
How subject to disturbances to the flow.
Why I bother to go below
At all, perhaps I shall never know,
But only stop minding it.

Build: Metta Results

Pain! Pain!
My back went out again.
I struggled all day
With the discomfort and rage.

But then I noticed a change:
For in between angry outbursts
And misery,
There were metta thoughts
Arising unbidden to my rescue.

So I see, even when circumstances
Are at their worst,
If we practice regularly
With these simple phrases:
May I be well,
May I be peaceful,
May I be happy (and so on),
The benefits are many.

I had little peace,
But every now and then,
Because of the metta
The anguish would decrease,
And I felt some relief
From my extreme discomfort
And agony.

And so,
Every thought counts
It seems.
Every kindly repetition
Gets us a bit closer to
Reducing suffering to zero.

Loving-kindness potential increases
With every phrase we repeat;
We need not be defeated
By difficulty or distress,
As regular metta recitation brings rest.

Browse: Reactivity

‘Fear, fear, fear,
I’m so sick of fear,’
Is what I felt today
As I meditated.

Where did it come from?
What’s it all about?
Silly questions,
It’s just there.

What does it feel like?
How do I relate to it?
Sensible inquiries,
All.

Pain in the chest,
Colours in the mind,
Muscles contract,
Anger arises.

Reflection relaxes,
Muscles release,
Relief ensues,
Fear declines.

But what makes it go?
I need to know.
Perhaps I’ll catch
That show next time.

If I can find those thoughts
That trigger it,
I can stop it;
But I don’t need to
Figure it;
All I need to do is
Locate the clues,
And solve the puzzle.

Broadside: Dark-struck

Well now, after all that,
I appear to be stuck,
Caught on fear again,
It’s running amok.

After miles of meditation,
It’s still the same,
Or it may be different
And I’m just missing the change.

I’m full of worry,
Wondering where I’m headed.
Could it be I’m onto something
Or merely suspended?

Fear, fear, fear,
Making me sweat,
Breathing’s not helping,
I’m only deeper in doubt.

Midnight’s fast approaching,
Another day gone,
Not sure what’s coming,
Should I be scared?

Trust in this moment,
Though it does not last,
Forget about tomorrow,
Though it’s coming on fast.

Any minute now it’s past,
The die is cast.
In the next instant
In acceptance I rest.

Perhaps the best is
Already here.
If I could only see clearly
I’d probably be happy.

Broaden: Opportunity

Perhaps we blind ourselves;
Maybe ignorance and delusion
Are activities,
Awake, our natural state.

Then when you just sit,
You may awaken because
You eventually stop trying to
Put yourself to sleep.

Perhaps it’s the thinking too;
We think and
Get caught up in this:
Believe this
Follow that
Attach to this
And Grab that.

At the same time
Words can awaken us,
But then when
We succeed,
We must let go of them too.

If I could follow my thinking
Until I get there,
And then let go;
If I practice grabbing
And letting go;
If I become expert at this
Then perhaps I would have
A choice,
And then when I break free
Maybe then I could stay free,
Instead of getting caught again.

Broad: Opening

The mind keeps looking for answers
And not finding them.
The way to peace is to
Stop looking,
But the mind keeps scanning,
Seeking, searching everywhere;
Hungering for power, control,
And security;
Wanting this or trying to
Get away from that.

Acceptance is wise
But requires compassion,
As mind keeps grasping ceaselessly.
I try to accept that
The mind cannot accept,
And that therefore trying to
Satisfy it will not work;
Because it’s never satisfied.
But then how do I decide what
To do?
Mind grasps, how stop that?

When I’m unsure
That does lead to letting go.
Letting go of certainty,
Could this be the answer?
But how?
And then,
How do you
Let go of uncertainty?

First perhaps you examine experience,
Again and again,
Until you are totally
Convinced that grasping and clinging
Is folly.
Maybe this could be what
Insight meditation is for.

Brink: Frenetics

Oh blast!
I hate it when
It’s going this way:
I get distracted
By this or that,
Then realize,
“Oh no!
I’m behind again
And I still have my
Blog to do.”

I’m rushing again,
Preparing vegetables
For my stew,
And thinking too fast
What to do.

I speed from stove,
To fridge
To countertop
To stove,
To computer.

I then lose track
And burn the stew,
And zoom around
Fixing that.

When will I stop?
Why can I not slow
This frantic show?

This frenzied pace
Seems out of place
Why the race?

When will I learn
To leave some room
For spaciousness and grace?

Bringing: Connecting the Dots

How we do
Set traps
For ourselves!

We bind ourselves to
This world of delusion,
And ask, “who did it?”

We hound ourselves,
Never giving ourselves
A break,
Or directing an ounce of
Compassion towards our folly.

“How foolish!” We cry,
“How ill-considered and unwise!”

But such judgments
Only give us
Further justification
For self-castigation.

The opportunities for
Self-depreciation
Are endless,
And this downward spiral
Ensures continuation of
Our bondage.

And so,
From these observations
I conclude:
How worthless is clear seeing
Without loving-kindness;
How useless is Wisdom
Without Compassion;
How futile is discernment
Without sympathetic joy;
And, how equanimity requires
All of these.

Briefly: Story Limiting

Stories, stories,
So many stories:
I get caught on one
Then wake up to it,
Get stuck on another
And lose myself in it.

“Is there anything else here?”
I ask.
“Is there nothing more?”

Then I return to the breath.
I experience the sensations of
The body,
Notice and feel feelings,
Look at thoughts as they arise.

Soon my mind settles,
Peace arises,
Comfort ensues,
All is well.

But when I get up
From the cushion
A new story unfolds,
Another chapter is written.

Then suddenly I notice
And stop again
“This is just a story,”
I say.
“These are but thoughts,”
And I carry on.

Briefing: New Year’s Resolution

Just for a moment
I was in the moment:
No past, no present, no future.

Complete awareness,
No separation
Between “me” and “it.”

All my life
I’ve lived for
Such moments,
Thinking they were
Times when everything
Went perfectly for me.

But this one occurred
Amidst great anguish,
Sorrow, depression,
And self-depreciation.

Suddenly,
I saw.
The spell was broken.
“Happiness happens in
This moment,” I thought.

After writing this,
I noted, “New Year’s Eve,
How appropriate.”

New Year’s resolution:
Look nowhere else for
Happiness but this moment.

(Tall order!—Still ambitious
After all these years.
What foolishness!)