Careful: Folding Laundry into My Practice

Okay, so I am in this horribly depressed, despondent mood again. This time, I started to zone out, but I decided it would be more interesting to see what goes on; so, I persuaded myself to stick around and see what I could see.

What I saw going on mentally was incredibly boring and trite, which made me understand why I wouldn’t want to stay awake for it. There was something else, however, which was that I spontaneously got up and started folding my laundry, and I could see that somehow this was part of the pattern too, because I didn’t get distracted at all by this activity from what was going on in my mind.

But then, I got distracted by what was going on in my mind, and began feeding the negative thoughts, although I was sufficiently aware to not get caught up in the thoughts themselves. Then I noticed this, stopped feeding the thoughts, and the laundry folding resumed until it was done.

In spite of the down mood, there was this restlessness, this refusal to give up, underneath which I found a stubborn optimism that just won’t lay down, and sometimes seems to result in unrealistic expectations. What am I to do with this perfectionism?

There’s so much to do, and yet there’s nothing to do. There’s nothing that can be done, and yet everything that can be done is being done already, because everything is working perfectly already, just as it is. The mind insists that something must be done until everything is perfect, and yet everything is unfolding just exactly the way it’s supposed to. The mind never gives up trying to fix things; so, we have to give it meaningful work to do, such as meditation, mindfulness, careful attention and kindness in all our activities. On the other hand, folding laundry can be pretty good too! LOL.

If I put forth my best effort in whatever I do, and believe that, all things considered, I am putting forth my best effort, then the mind will be satisfied with everything I do, and everything will indeed proceed perfectly, regardless of the results. Perhaps this is the reason that the intentions behind our actions are emphasized in Buddhism—this tendency of mind to want to do the right thing, always. Tall order, huh? (Pauses to fold another load.)

Jack Kornfield wrote a book called, After the Ecstasy, the Laundry. My conclusion: sometimes the laundry is the ecstasy.

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.

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?