Whole mind -Mindlessly mindful

I often talk with meditation practitioners about their experiences during meditation. Quite often I hear about the places that they meditate. This is because many of us put quite a good bit of stock in where the meditation takes place. Most of us also speak of meditation in terms of “awareness” or “mindfulness” when we describe meditation. But for me there are several directions that meditation can take that are within my control as I begin meditation. These directions quite often get lumped into a single meditative amalgam. So I would like to discuss Mindful meditation and how simple it is and what it is not. Mindful to many people is what we are at the beginning of a meditation when we are following the breath, the heart beat or performing a task. Mindful meditation follows a distinct pattern and takes account of a focused action –our whole mind is “on point”. Mindfulness requires no more effort than making tea as with the tea ceremony, or breathing as with the breath meditation but I find that that is where some, myself included have fallen short. Once we begin to be mindful there is that subtle distraction that very subtly invites some small part of our mind to sneakily slink off in another direction. Like the wonderful lark singing in the background while I raked the Zen garden. No sorry –for that moment I raked and listened AND was in that instant no longer mindful. So over the years I have found simple things to do that seem to hold my mind fixed –I think we all do. One of these things for me is balancing stones another is drawing. When I can get the time, when schedules allow I like to sit especially if I can sit with my kids and do one-liners. This method of drawing is very raw -and is viewed as so elementary that it is very hard to find in galleries or professional presentations, but it is so very fun and meditative. It is a simple as writing calligraphy, or kanji. This is very similar to the ideals behind Zen gardens, where raking / lining the pebbles or sand takes your full attention.
A one-liner requires the artist to use a single line to define the outline and some detail of the subject in one continuous line. this is a great way to get budding artists to see their subject in layers with definable profiles and linear definition. And it's downright fun. At first try to draw an apple or cup with a single line -DO NOT lift the pencil until the drawing is completed. When you lift your pencil -your done. For a tougher and more conscious drawing, try to do this WITHOUT crossing over the lines you have drawn. I like to put a tiny "A" at my starting point and a "B" at the end, so I can follow my line when I look at the drawing in the future, And so that the viewer can have a few moments of mindfulness as well.This drawing method is very meditative from the stand point that it involves both sides of the brain to the exclusion of all else. You cannot help but become completely mindful.

Addicted to... anything

I recently had an interesting conversation with a close friend about addiction. She has had a lifelong bout with alcohol but has been free of that addiction for several years. She is now addicted to exercise. I know that sounds silly, but it can be just as dangerous. We all have tendencies and compulsions that we cater to unconsciously and most of them are harmless. But for some people the compulsion to “ease the pain” or “forget the present” or “drown their sorrows” becomes habitual. With exercise as with drugs there is a high. This is caused by endorphins which bind to opioid receptors in neurons, blocking the release of neurotransmitters and thus interfering with the transmission of pain impulses to the brain. *This reaction mimics the effects of addictive drugs like morphine. People can literally run themselves silly. But in the case of people with addictive tendencies over exercising can lead to injury and death. For these people exercise is just another outlet for their addiction. These people might gravitate towards marathons, body building, or in the case of my friend martial arts. She initially enjoyed the ideals and structure behind the martial art she was learning. Within a few months she had a regular schedule and had converted her garage into a mini dojo. She also began sparring with the people in her class. With most addicts there is a feeling of depression and the acceptance of some amount of pain associated with the activity of choice. Hitting and getting hit became her addiction. She began fighting at a mixed martial arts dojo six nights a week. Then found a group that met on Sundays to round out her week. Exercise and fighting became her primary focus. She lost weight, got injured and knocked out many times and still kept pushing herself until her sponsor recognized that she was addicted again. This time the drug was adrenaline.
I find it very interesting that almost everyone knows someone or is someone who has an obsession with something. For some its drugs or porn , and for those main stream addicts video games, marathons and even religion. This is where this subject really hit home for me. This is because I have a family member who is zealous about religion. The particular religion isn’t important but his total and detrimental obsession is. He eats and sleeps and drinks “The word “. To hear him speak you would think the world is on the brink of implosion and her people were preparing for annihilation. He recommends bomb shelters and hoarding non perishable goods. He has become obsessed with convincing anyone who he knows that our current way of life here in the U.S. is about to vanish. He left his job to become more involved and travel with his religious group. He left his family to be closer to his deity and the people who needed his help. So when I began thinking of addiction in terms of a compulsion or genetic disposition that can manifest itself in almost any action I realized that there are far more addicts in the world. And I am convinced that there are folks who are addicted to Meditation and Buddhism to their detriment. I pray for these people who are so deeply involved in positive action that it has become harmful. I hope that they find understanding and can learn the middle way.*(for an interesting study of these effects please see : MK McGovern’s “The effects of exercise on the brain”)

So what do we feel about the past?-Today when a person begins to take action to his or her own detriment -to the bewilderment of others, we call them crazy -when this action is a repetitive and self destructive we are in the realm of clinical dysfunction -In this modern day we would be dealing with a certifiable psyche -but this is what Siddhartha, Yasodhara and Rahula did and many others before and since, What is fasting, penance, "fervor"? When someone trains their whole life for the Olympics, having been injured time and time again, would we consider these folks “Addicted” –I might.Buddhism teaches us to be mindful of ourselves and of our life but in most instances those men and women who we revere as gurus have themselves turned their back on the middle way. I am still educating myself and dissecting my thoughts on the idea of addiction.

Freestyle Buddhist

When I was a kid my family went to Disney World once a year. I was not allowed on many of the rides because of my size and my heart condition. I wanted to get on the roller coasters --- I don’t know what other people think about their direction or focus or even their current state in life. I don’t think I’ve ever asked. I have of course said “How ya doin?” that’s almost automatic and doesn’t get much response. Then there’s “What are your goals in life?” Which is way too formal and is more fitting for a job interview or at high-school graduation. But I know that I am just cruising through this life. Easy come easy go. Don’t get me wrong there are up’s and down’s, Life throws those around a lot –I like the ride. Like a rollercoaster in the dark -Space Mountain- click click click –then swoosh there is a hard left at 2 g’s –LOVE THAT! Yep, I am cruising. Three weeks ago –Pneumonia, now I am running up stairs. Two months ago my car was fine –now I need a new one. I could get all freaked out and say –Where’s the money gonna come from? But it’ll come –it always does. My wife and I take things as they come. Sometimes we need to sit across the dinner table and think things through but those times are becoming far less often –maybe once a year. The Big things from 20 years ago are really tiny now –we have raised two kids, had numerous life threatening emergencies, at least 10 surgeries, scary test results. We’ve been through close to 30 hurricanes, 4 floods, Grandparents failing health, parents failing health and 5 layoffs. It’s a rollercoaster. I love it –I am just here riding along thinking of what happened on that last turn, and I know there’s gonna be some more. But I didn’t design this ride and even though I might think I can guess what’s gonna happen, even though I have heard all the stories from the old timers and I’ve read the history, the odds, and the guide books. There is no way I can predict what this ride is gonna do next –so I just cruise. Relax –take a slow breath –(spit out your gum before you choke on it.) and enjoy the ride.

Haiku

Charged with character
Bent, worn and withered by life
Subtle in beauty

The farm gate



Melted by water
Rock torn, battered, bumped and bruised
Smoothly polished bright

Round stone

Bugs and their place

This weekend I had company over. The weather was gorgeous, and so we ateoutside. By sundown the mosquitoes were on the hunt. I try not to killmosquitoes, so when I caught one on my arm, I tried my best to brush itoff. I started this habit a couple years ago, about the same time Ibecame serious about Buddhism. Sometimes, accidentally, the mosquitodies in the process.If I spot a spider in the house, I try to catch it and release it outside. The same goes for flies, wasps beetles, ants, or other creepy crawlies. You get the picture.I have to admit, sometimes I feel silly. It is, after all, only a bug, right? What's the big deal?As a parent raising kids in the woods in a very rural small town I have watched my kids and their friends reactions to almost every outdoor encounter imaginable. If there's one thing that I've learned from watching it's that kids and adults are not that different. The same attitude that upsets me in kids especially as they hit the teen years is prevalent in most adults I know--namely that they think the world exists for them.Literally, that the world was created for them: animals exist so we canmake Big Macs out of them, and trees grow so we can cut them down tomake notebooks out of them.They think that the world was created for humans to do with as they please. To them, Earth is a giantplayground for people to have fun in. Or worse still, a giant diaper...(you imagine the rest)That's why Buddhism is so radical. Buddhists understand that, not only does every action have a consequence (karma), but that the world is a vast interconnected network, so thatwhat I do affects you, and vice versa. In that way, Buddhists are committed to living mindfully to insure that they cause as little harm as possible (which is not to say that you won't find so-called"Buddhists" doing unsavory or unethical things--far from it!).To come back to our little blood-sucking insect, the reason I don't kill them is not because I think I'll generate bad karma or that squishing the bug will have disastrous environmental consequences in theunforeseen future, but because I know that the way I treat a bug translates to how I treat other people, to how I interact with the world as a whole. If I think that a bug is annoying and squash it forentertainment or because its mere existence is "inconvenient" to me, then how tolerant and compassionate can I really be? (Alan Watts has a great spiel about this, where he criticizes humans for being selfish: we feed off of the world, consuming countless plants and animalsthroughout the course of our lives, but can't even spare a single drop of blood for another creature. How true it is!) The way we treat an insect, as small and insignificant as it may appear to us, reflects ourrelationship to the entire world.That being said, what would I do if my house was infested with termites? I'd hire an exterminator. The Buddhist precept against killing is just that--a precept. It's not a commandmentpassed down from "on high," something to be clung to at all costs; it's ageneral rule for living. And like all rules, life will force us intosituations where we must make exceptions. My house is built out of wood,the byproduct of dead trees. That's a fact, one that no amount ofidealism will change. We live in a world where we must kill other beingsin order to survive. As unfortunate as that is, it's a biologicalfact--right up there with the truth of impermanence itself.But I find that being aware of killing even the smallest thing needlessly is far better than no awareness at all.And still...I'm still far from seeing myself and "others" as the same, but I try mybest not kill mosquitoes, or spiders, or ants. They are part of thisworld too, and have every right to live. (Until they threaten theintegrity of my home, that is!) If my body or circumstances demanded itI will kill an animal. But only if I had to. For how I treat all life them reflects how Iview this world.None of this makes me better or superior than anyone else. And yet, I do think it makes a difference--admittedly a small one, but a difference nonetheless. I try to make the world a better place, or at the very least, not a worse one.I think that, more than anything else, is what makes me proud to be a Buddhist.
- The honey bee may have a sting, but to all that flowers he is king.Without his kind the fauna dies, so have a care for things that flies.The mosquito may whine and bite, as some flies and yellow jackets might.These little things bring out the show as bats and swallows swoop at night.The spider’s legs and web will scare, but she controls the biting bugs with care.She keeps their swarms to smaller mass so do not harm her as you pass.As for viruses and diseases being spread -this is true but killing the insect after it bites you -that’s just a reaction. Respect is the term I choose to use when we are out doors at my home in the woods in Fl. We have all sorts of biting insects that we repel with camphor and citronella and geranium, and we have special screens designed to block these little creatures. We Respect these insects and when it's time for them to hunt -we do our best to create a no fly zone. After all If your living on a river in Australia-you have a respectful awareness of crocks and snakes -if you live in Mississippi in the swamp you respect gators, and snakes, skeeters and black flies. If you live in NY -you are respectfully aware of muggers and pickpockets. For me it is as simple as knowing we all live here with creatures programmed to eat other things -So rather that kill them for it -we simply make ourselves less appetizing.Besides -there are far too many ways that we humans could make this world uninhabitable because we think we would be better off if we killed off some tiny thing.

Grabbing hands

I found this great picture on a friend’s blog and it spoke to me. This isn’t how I normally find inspiration but in this case I am glad it did. We all have wants; we want a house, car, husband/wife, job, independence, and body, whatever it is we all have wants. We grasp for something. How simple life would be if we didn’t. What if we weren’t hardwired to hunt for more? In Buddhism desire is one of the five hindrances. It is often unintentionally related to greed because in the old Pali language these two meanings come from the same word. Buddhism does not truly speak of freeing ourselves from want or desire because these things are part of the human spirit. Buddhism does however prescribe that we learn to inspect and analyze what we want in order to control these feelings before they control us. And therein lays the crux of the issue. As humans we want. These wants spring from how easy it is for us to get what we need. Opposable thumbs and big brains allowed our early ancestors to find shelter, food, and water rather easily. We have an ability to make tools and to change our environment. So after those basic needs are met we have some free time on our hands. And idle time makes us think “I can fix that.” And just like that humans created desire. And we began to look for faster and easier ways to do everything from make fire and tools thousands of years ago to storing and retrieving information today. We will unfortunately never rid ourselves of want. And just as unfortunately we also seem to be hardwired to keep all that crap that we’ve collected in the pursuit of making life easier. Few of us can easily get rid of those rewards of our desire, those trophies of conquest, and the spoils of achievement. Just like the flute that was an incredible find on E-Bay. Though I may never be able to play it, I will not be parted from it. –nobody wants to get rid of cool stuff.
Economists see desire as a closely linked motivator to loss, they call this need to hold onto what we acquire as the “Loss aversion” theory. This prescribes that all animals including humans are instinctively possessive. Try to take away a fat dogs bone and you may get bitten. He dreamed of it, he found it, he has it and though he isn’t hungry and he doesn’t need it because he’s fat –he wants it because, well – it’s his. Take for instance the antique car that my neighbor has. He searched for it, found it, and will someday restore it, “someday” –even though it has sat there for years rusting and getting worse off by the day, if you ask him if he would consider selling it - “Never!” . That’s because it’s his, it has made a home in his dream and filled one of the wants that he previously had. He has “loss aversion”. The value he believes he has outweighs the value presented by the sale.
Like my wife’s “fantastic shoes” they hurt her feet, they cause blisters and can only be worn for a few hours at a time –but will she take them back or resell them –“NEVER! Because they look awesome with …” I don’t know who’s giving her those compliments because to me they look like just another pair of sandals with a heel.
So this brings me to Buddha’s point; Desire and Want are perceptions. They are ingrained in us to help us improve our chance of survival by reducing risk, danger and labor so that we can spend more time providing and caring for our children. After that emotion steps in and brainwashes us into thinking about fixing ourselves. “I will be better with or without or if…” Inspect and analyze and then look around yourself and try and remember what thoughts you had before you bought those things on the top shelf or in the back of your closet or in the shed in the back yard. Then you will begin to control Want. But be warned the more you have the more you have to give up –like the young prince who renounced his world to live as a beggar with nothing to call his own.
Unfortunately this is not a battle you will win. Having it once may change your viewpoint for a time but it will take far more battles for you to claim even a small victory.
I know –I was there, living without.
And now 25 years later I am strategizing my next battle.
A new car.
I just realized that I should start writing down why I want to buy a new car so I can analyze it –but before I can do that I need to get a journal so that I can write down and analyze everything that I want. I think the journal should be leather bound –humm maybe it’s time for a new pen. Time to go shopping…

Who's Driving

I realized yesterday that there is a specific time period that I do a poor job of following the Way. I have a tough time seeing everything joyfully and ignoring other peoples actions or idiosyncrasies. You see I drive about 2 hours a day to and from work. So for those two hours I find that I see everything that people do in, with and to their cars. Frankly some of it is disturbing. Now before you scoff at this statement let me say that for the most part my drive is typical interstate driving. There is little traffic and we are all a healthy distance from one another. There are those who read the paper, there’s a guy who practices the trumpet. There are too many women to recall who put on their makeup and there are several folks who I believe are actors or actresses, all rehearsing for the same part. This is because I don’t believe these people could have any other reason to scream and rant on the phone every morning of their lives. At least I hope not.
I am including those points after I get off of the interstate when I am driving through town in morning or evening traffic. I find that I have a fairly short fuse when it comes to people merging into a line or slowing down for a turn. You see I think that these skills must be executed in a specific manner. And when you fail to get into the correct lane early enough then that’s just poor planning and for that error in judgment those folks must take their medicine and drive on past, turn around and try again.
If you need to turn, I prefer to see a blinker and maybe even have a reasonable distance between the blinker coming on and the turn occurring. Pedestrians, cyclists and motorcycles I watch with scrutiny because those folks can move very sporadically. I assure you I am not the same person in a car as I am outside the car. Even as a passenger anyone outside the car is a jerk, fool or just plain crazy. I mumble and curse and talk to myself as though I am testing all the other drivers around me and some unseen person is taking notes and issuing fines to anyone who attracts my wrath.
My kids and wife think I’m “funny” because I mumble and glare and occasionally ask them if they agree with my assessment. They often giggle and shake their heads.
But the worst part is that moment I step from my car –if you were to bump me I would say “pardon me, sorry” , I would let you in front of me in a long line and even start a conversation with you just to be friendly. I would smile at you if you ran by me in a huff. I would stop and help if you fell and I would fully understand if you were lost and needed to slow your pace or stop in front of me while I walked. I might even ask If I could help.
But put me behind the wheel and who knows who’s driving. So If Jesus is my copilot or Buddha’s in the back seat they must be giggling right along with my kids because they sure aren’t commenting on my driving.

IT’S FOOD for goodness sake

This issue has been on my mind this afternoon. I was at the closest grocery store to my office picking up some fruit and I was surprised. This big chain store had very little fruit from Florida. So -Once again I am in a dilemma about food. We are not vegan, though we appreciate the fruits of the earth that we grow. And we go to some effort to support local farmers and those markets that support our local first ideals. In it is such a joy to walk through the cramped and crowded isles our local and family owned food store. From the moment you approach the story you are presented with colors and odors that entice the senses. Fresh herb, and vegetable plants, flowering shrubs and edible plants cover the patio. As you enter you move from orchids and bromeliads to mangos, bananas and tomatoes and apples. The Locally grown section makes up almost half of the produce area and the rest is organic, fresh and well stocked. My kids like finding just the right fruit and veggies; not too ripe and not too hard - peaches or plums or bunch of Swiss chard. I am happy that we have these choices and I am aware that many do not. In the family owned market I am reminded of the bounty and variety of outdoor markets in other countries. I find it kind of sad that in the big box store I am looking for apples in today, with it’s perfect looking produce the ideals of fresh and nutritious foods have been corrupted. The American public has bought into a distorted view of fresh food. Big food companies have marketed happy cows, green giants, grove fresh and heart healthy foods like cell phones or erection medications. We are bombarded with the freshest looking fruits regardless of the taste and nutrition. These Marketing companies know that very few people have pulled an orange from a tree and eaten it, still warm and filled with juice. They know that you don’t want to wash your broccoli or leaf vegetables because of the grit and small insects that are very common in these foods from home grown plots. They know that If you saw how eggs are farmed or how Thanksgiving turkeys are fattened that you , sure as heck would think twice about why you are compromising your health for the low price.
To compete with the healthier community sustained farming movement the food corporations have coined phrases like “green”, farm raised, cage free and hormone free. These names do not live up to what they imply. Even” grass raised” cattle can be labeled grass fed because for the first year or so of their lives the cows do in fact roam a field. But because of the weight differential that occurs between them and their concrete pen raised brethren –the grass fed fellows are fed a high protein diet that includes proteins that are easily absorbed and enough carbs to ensure fast weight gain. Meanwhile as they stand in a community produces watery nastiness the Grass fed beginnings of their lives fade from memory as they are “finished” on the feed lot. The Marketing divisions of Gigantic corporations have patented and sold people on these catch words and phrases but have failed to improve the common growing practices. Worse yet these same patented phrases have been defined by these same companies and the FDA has accepted these definitions. Cage free? Do you really believe that? It’s just a bigger cage. Organic –well many of the pesticides are organic, so is the wax and the genetic modifications.
Food should be a ritual of awareness. Know how it grows, be aware of where it grows, be thankful for the growers, be mindful of its preparation and when preparing it have fun and taste often. I love to cook and if it takes a little longer to make a salad because I am cleaning veggies or cutting away bruised or damages parts or because i'm cutting radish florets or making curly accents out of the green onions or because I am in the yard gathering edible flowers –That’s OK because that little touch makes it more enjoyable to eat. It feeds body and soul. Next time you are at the grocery store identify one meal where you will think of where and how your produce was grown. For that one meal think of how it looks and question if it is grown for looks and resistance to shipping damage or if it’s grown for taste and nutrition – and for that one meal TRY something new –try something local. And involve the family in these choices –I think that you will be surprised when you explain how things are grown, where they come from, and what feelings your family has about food. Ask them what defines “goodness”, “freshness”, and “healthy”.
Once you define these things as a family or for yourself then “For goodness sake” should be at the top of your shopping list – , Because that my friends is what food is.
And you are worth it!

Jake; my silent master

As I wake he is there having already awoken with each other family member. Having already greeted and provided smiles to them as they began their day. Jake greets me with smiling eyes and encouragement. He insists they day is glorious. He knows because he woke before the sunrise so that he could perform his morning rites; simple yoga routine, a brisk walk, deep breathing and calmly sitting listening to the morning. He judges today as glorious. He watches me with gentle eyes as I emerge from the bathroom, showered and shaved and in his eyes there is no question that I have the potential to rule the world, to champion a cause to vanquish any opposition. He fails to see what I see in the mirror or maybe I lack his perception of the truth. Jake joins me for breakfast reminding me that preparing food is exciting and joyful. He cares for me in every action; assisting me in my food choice from the fridge, ensuring I make the tea dark enough with his wise and insightful stare. Jake eats thoughtfully no conversation, no distraction, never eating more than is needed and only drinking after his meal. He is mindful.
He returns to his bed as I put my wallet in my pocket. His head is down before I pick up my keys. And his eyebrows rise in a simple roll as I cross the room to the door. He never says goodbye.
Jake is there after work, he is ecstatic to see me. He is overwhelmed with joy. He wiggles like a thousand mice under a rug as he sits on the end of the walkway watching me approach. His touch is so subtle, reassuring, comfortable, kind, and congratulatory. He doesn’t know what battles I had or care if I feel that I won or lost. He greets my like a hero of the day. That I am there is all that matters. Where I was or what I did may have left traces of evidence on my clothes, on my hands and face. But he never judges me by that evidence or even acknowledges it if he finds such traces. He and I pick up where we left off comfortable and understanding. We are companions in each other’s care. And I am home again.
That he is able to care for me again is all he strives to do.
I have seen how Jake greets each of us in turn; conquering heroes all. We are all unique and important to him and he treats us each a bit differently. He has an uncanny ability to change himself to be what each of us needs, at that moment. And I believe he knows how important that role is.
Sometimes he is aloof, others times he is overwhelming and smotheringly loving. Sometimes he is reserve and rigidly obedient. But these roles he adopts to become what the moment requires, what we need him to be.
Jake leads by example.
Jake speaks without words.
His silence is educational, his caring is saintly, his attitude is admirable and something we aspire to emulate.
Jake helps us prepare dinner. Jake oversees home work and board games and evening reading and Jake puts us all to bed. And after he walks through the dark house having spent time in every bedroom listening to the gentle changes in our breathing as we fall off to sleep. Jake sighs and wishes that he could be just like us. He dreams that he could be the champion of his day, bringing home food to share after defeating his foes and winning the battles of the hunt. Jake dreams that he could come with us on te days journey and that he might be better at protecting us.
I wish I could convince him that he has it backwards. I hope and dream of how I can be more like him.

My Darkest hours

My darkest moments arise in fits and starts. They begin to swell silently like a gently growing cloud on the horizon. My darkest moments begin to grey in the evening gloom and root themselves in my soul with fitful sleep if sleep it is. My darkest thoughts bloom from the decaying roots of long dead battles, overcome threats, and poorly lit fears. The storm breaks with a gust of anger, unattached to an event and unconnected to a solution. Loathing flashes like a strobe light. My semblance is that of a frightened cur, with gnashed teeth and reddened glares, quite undeserved and misunderstood by those who approach with loving hands. My mental vantage jumps from one point to another sliding from each grimy wall dirtier and more exhausted for the effort. Looking at a window at the end of this long dank hall, it is a bright spot in a sea of darkness and shadow. The bright light is painful repulsive. And that I don’t desire it hurts as well.
I close my eyes for the sweet flashes. Glimpses of times when I stood pressed to that opening. Forward staring, warm. There was no hallway. The window shows a far clearer and brighter world, and if had the strength I might drag myself to the sill. I might jump through. Back to where I so often reside. Back from this moldering and dank excursion.
My darkest moments feed and grow on fear of the light. They swell and bulge with the worry that there will be more pain. The fear that I will not be strong enough to keep swimming. I worry that they will feel more than pain, I fear that I cannot take that pain into myself that I cannot relieve what is theirs to bear. These darkest of moments grow and swell swallowing me for a time. This time. And even though I might entertain the thought that when I choose to I will close my eyes, and breathe slowly. I will step forward toward the window. I will feel the warmth; I will cast off this fear and live outside in the world of love and comfort. I must also admit this does not fit into the cycle of life. This notion of control does not fit the truth that all matter waxes and wanes in balance. In Bright days contain shadows and darkest nights have stars.
But for now I must continue on deeper into the darkness. And I must experience that which is only mine, I must feel and learn how to understand My darkest moments, though my understanding will mean nothing in the end. It is what it is. I will ride the current without struggling.
OM Mane Padme Hum

Retracting opposites

I find that there are people in the world that are my antagonist by nature. These people are destructively pessimistic. They find themselves in loathsome situations constantly and spread this fact to anyone around them verbally and physically like a virus. These are the people who murmur pleasantries as you greet them , like discarded cigarettes damp and reeking of foulness that robotically rolls out of their mouth as a scripted –“Fine” or “uh-huh”. These are the unique individuals who continue to insert themselves into teams or groups as an authority or out of some unaddressed need for companionship. I always admire the spouses of these people and wonder what or when they saw something different than I what we all see now.
I love these folks! They force me to look at myself and my actions with a bit more scrutiny, just to make sure I don’t sound that way when I am having a rough day. They remind me that things truly are what you make of them and that bad moods and attitudes spread like the flu. I love them because sometimes they are right, sometimes We all would like to rant and rave about how long a line is or how poor the service is at the DMV. I love them because they have such apparent lack of concert for those around them or those who they are raving at. These folks are exactly who I practice metta on –these people need someone to understand their frustrations and someone to absorb their abuse with a smile. They need someone who can listen and agree and then act as a mediator. I love these people who seem to be so much the opposite of myself because they make me a better person. And I have found that they also make very good friends.

The Dream state has a great academic program

I had the most vivid dream last night. It opened with me in a conversation with my wife and progressed to illuminate fears that I didn’t know I had. The most alarming part for me was that I repeatedly and very pointedly made efforts to convince myself that this couldn’t be happening –in my dream I was very sure I was dreaming. After I woke I sat in bed very lucidly replaying those fears that had just manifested themselves in my dream. The over whelming theme was loss of companionship. I didn’t dream my wife left me or had an accident, I dreamt that she had simply lost the desire and passion and joy she had felt for me. She made it evident that she had duties that she didn’t enjoy or find fulfilling. There was a dramatically degrading presence in her lack of partnership, friendship and connectedness to me. Secondly in this dream my children were indifferent and suspicious of my love, as though it was faked and acted out because of duty on my part. There was no antagonist or evil villain. There was no flying unicorns or surreal environment –I never dream that way. My dream felt and looked like any other day other than the situations and conversations.
I have had many realistic dreams in my lifetime. And I pay attention to these more than most because I feel that they are presented from some inner awareness. I have convinced myself that these dreams are the result of a subconscious analysis, kind of like an early warning system. In the past I have acted on the information I am presented in vivid dreams. I have not questioned what if I don’t, I have just presumed that I was supposed to do as I dreamed I did. So in this dream I realized that I have a fear of becoming disconnected from my family. I dreamt about my fear of being taken for granted. And I realize that being taken for granted in a relationship occurs because both parties become complacent and fail to feed and encourage the connectedness that brought them together.
I learn a lot from my dreams. I know that this may seem silly or sound absurd, but I think that we all tend to ignore our inner voice at times. I think that we all fail to allow our weaknesses to have a voice. This dream made me realize that I have more to give to my wife and kids. This dream made me see that I must keep nurturing the blooms of my everyday actions and reevaluate assumptive attitudes about companionship and duty. I now realize the danger of presumptive love. And perceive the erosion that can be caused by the smallest movements towards unrequited companionship and joy and passion for the people in my life. Buddhism has caused me to become less responsive and emotional yet Buddhism has made me see and feel the truth and deeper ties I have to those I love and other beings and life forms in general. The middle way impacts us all similarly and differently, it is a balanced tide ebbing and flowing over time. Zen mind , beginners mind rings true in my daily life and in my dreams. Life lessons are in everything. Life is an illusion.

What's my Name

I was taught that as Buddhist I must move towards unity with all things. I must resign myself to being inconsequential and not seeing myself as anything. I should not work to not become a non being of nothingness; I should merely be and allow all to consume what I am. But that’s pretty hard for me. I believe my name represents who and what I am.
In the US as in many modernized countries today people are inundated with numbers. We have an address, we have a phone number, we have a tax number, birth date, medical number, extension, locker code, gate code and on, and on. Why? Really ?–Why all the numbers? There was a time when people were known by their name alone. Think about that. You would have had all the information you needed about a person with just their name. And the interesting part was that most everyone was proud to give out their name. My great grandfather put his name on everything, his business, his home, his clothes, and even his sons. Everything he touched seemed to have his initials or full name associated with it. He believed that by placing his name on what he did or what he made, it showed that the item was reliable and trustworthy. “Like Sears” he would say, “we are as trusted as Sears”. But now we have numbers. If you call Sears you get connected to a number, an extension at Sears’s home office or in a branch store. You will actually get connected and reconnected to many numbers depending on the reason you called. Trust has nothing to do with it anymore. These days most company’s seem to see names as a liability. Most large companies are actually held or owned by someone you’ve never heard of. Smaller companies are mostly –“Doing business as…” or DBA. That means that Fred’s Fast Foods is actually Rinchopali Patel’s food delivery service. But Mr. Patel is just a subcontractor for a much larger food service that never deals with the person who’s found a toenail in their Chinese spring roll.
This doesn’t help me much when I am trying to instill a sense of pride and honor in my kids. When my daughter told a lie –I asked her if she minded if I called her Feebe the Liar. She said very emphatically “No!”. When I asked why not, she said she wasn’t a liar. I replied that when she lies or is dishonest those behaviors are forever attached to her name. So since she lied I was sure that some people may already be referring to her as Feebe the liar. I let her know that over time they will forget that she lied so long as she doesn’t do it again. Thankfully, the issue hasn’t come up again. But the idea still resounds with me every time I go out to dinner, read a news article, see a piece of art. I judge the person I am served by, reading, or viewing by my interaction with them.
Steve behind the counter at the pharmacy might have a degree and be an awesome individual but when he gets my order wrong three times in a row he is “Steve the idiot”. When he lies to me and tells me that the Dr. ordered it wrong (I know this to be a lie) he becomes “Steve the liar”. Maybe I’m old fashioned or maybe I’m just too demanding but I believe that truth and responsibility are chained to a person’s character. So as a Buddhist I give everyone one hundred chances. I could never call Steve an idiot or think badly of him for more than a second. But I admit, I will be mentally hoping that he doesn’t lie to me when we speak again. I will think-“Come on Steve, be honest, be sincere take responsibility.” I know he means well.
But others are vocal and unforgiving about such issues and I see this is Steve’s fault –he knows he doesn’t need to lie.
Beverly who serves my family’s breakfast once a week at the local café never covers for the cooks –“If it isn’t right- she says- it won’t come to the table”. And she’s right. Food has been late to arrive, foods’ been a little salty, or whatever –but what Bev controls is true and respectable. Bev goes out of her way to make us feel like customers who are paying her salary. To us her name means good, fast honest service, and her actions let us know that is important to her.
What’s important to many folks may not necessarily be the same as me, but My name carries humanity, compassion, reliability and responsibility with it and hopefully I am not the only one who cares.

flocking sumo phobic ax pole –what power in a word?

In opening I will tell you a short sad story about my son and his teacher and bad words.
At the age of 3 my son had already developed quite a reputation for self reliance at the day care. He was not unsocial but preferred to play alone or with one or maybe two other children only. He was reading and sounding words out and was also a very good listener even when you weren’t aware he was paying attention. So it was no surprise to my wife and I when we received a note that my son had said bad words to another child. It was however a surprise to us when the elderly woman who directed the day care told us what he had said, “He called the little girl a stupid head.” said the kindly mothering director. “Stupid head” –that’s what this is about?” I said. With a stern look the director leaned in and began to speak to us as thought we were children. And when it comes to speech as a multifunctional tool I think that we are all children. As I listened I relived many of the hateful things I had said over the years, especially as a teen, with painful clarity.
This was when I received my best transmission on what correct speech is all about. She explained to my wife and I the concept that words are merely the expression we vocalize. And I must say it opened our eyes. TO think that my little boy would explode with anger and lash out verbally with a hurtful and demeaning intention was very surprising and alarming. He was a little boy. Where had that come from? OH – his friends and relatives and TV and a hundred other overheard public scenes.
I must admit “Stupid” was not on my list of curse words but as we listened, it soon became one, as did butt head, retard, and pansy. So we had a conversation with my son. And then after another incident we asked him how he would like to be punished the next time –he chose hot sauce over soap. Sure enough there was a third time. Meanwhile my wife and I were teaching him words that were more fitting. Words and sentences that he agreed were much more meaningful than “You’re a stupid head!” In the end I think my wife and I learned far more than my son. We learned that right speech has far greater connotations than nice words and intelligent compassionate statements. As time went on I made sure than my children and nieces and nephews were raised with the understanding that words only have power that we imbue them with. Well at least that’s what I tried to teach them about “bad” words. To illustrate this I would make up some gibberish words and yell them in an angry tone. I would tell the kids that I was using curse words in another language. At which point they would look at me wide eyed. I would repeat the words in a soothing and silly voice. “See - I would say - those same words have little power to scare you if I say them nicely, so it isn’t the word that is bad but how you use it.”At which point the child I was giving this lesson to, would look at me like I was crazy. As do many of my friends when I bring up this topic.
There are no bad words only bad intentions. I repeat –There are no bad words only bad intentions. If I were to make a list of words that should be bad it surely would not include bodily functions, body parts –or acts that most of us cherish as the best way to share love. My bad words would be; war, hate, bigotry, torture, slavery and maybe a few more that thankfully don’t come to mind. I have worked on this issue with my kids (and myself) for years. Words carry information, intention, and emotion and color the world with our own self interest, that’s all. So when someone curses at you, the words they say are not the right words to present information; but rather, an intention of some emotion that they need to express. OR in most cases they are used to accentuate a statement which for some reason can’t be better accented with a more applicable word. Usually this is because of a poor vocabulary but sometimes because it fits the mood or social vernacular. I won’t get into the words or their origin although that is an interesting journey. I will just say that the connotations and connections that the use of these words have, is ingrained in our understanding from early childhood. Unfortunately most of us were never challenged to get creative. If we had been I am sure we could think up several more applicable and expressive colloquialisms and explicative words so that we could retire these overused and frankly outdated expressions.
And my son, well he is now in his late teens and has a real distaste for cursing –in movies and on TV –he is far more aware than my wife and I of the lack of creativeness and the regression of vocabulary in our country. In our society the power of words and their use is constantly challenged and I find that amazing, as well as the power of a little hot sauce.
Right speech begins with expressing intentions and emotions and truth. And honestly that’s really friggin hard sometimes.Speak well my friends and your intentions will require few words.

Anti-Buddha

Sitting here today I have once again latched onto a thought that I have caught and released many times in the last year. In our world there is a very indefinable connection to the opposite of goodness, the epitome of badness, the Anti-Christ. This person would be very similar in many ways to Christ but with a contrary focus. Holding onto and developing this idea I realized that the Anti-Buddha, would follow a contrary path. It would work to increase suffering in the world and would condone a closed mind and a huge ego in all of us. An Anti-Buddha would blindly consume, despise compassionate interactions and attempt to build a single world view. This being would be thoughtless, aggressive, reactionary and selfish. As I imagine my version of the anti-Buddha I must first imagine the Buddha and all that the path to awakening represents. I must first see the noble truths and the eight spokes of the dharma. I must see the image of the Buddha in the light of compassion and understanding. And I found that when I did this I realized the true anti-Buddha is me. We all have Buddha nature within us, and we all have the contrary within us. We choose our path and our ability to control our interaction in the world makes the world in our image every moment of every day. So I realize that in my world there is no anti-Buddha, there is only me to take the right path and to follow the Way that has been laid out before me or not. And when I make mistakes they are my fault, though I will admit it is always easier to blame an angry ghost.

Finding life, Loosing worry and fear

Several years ago I had a scare. I was hiking on the remote Cumberland Island and I didn’t feel quite right. What could I do but trek on. When I returned home I called my cardiologist, see I have a history of cardiac issues stemming from a congenital defect. But I never let me, slow me down. So, two weeks after my hiking trip I had a routine cardiac check up. All looks good they said. And then the next day the cardiologist said something very different. A week later I was relieved from my worry and stress by the stark realization that life is what it is. Life is unpredictable and surprising and that is what makes it so awesome. At that moment I was laying there, about to go into open heart surgery. I was helpless, hooked up to machines and dripping bags, and “things that go ping”. And at that precarious position in my life I realized what worry and fear really are. They are doubt, they are uncontrolled reactions, and they are surprises and expressed unknowns that all feed worry and anxiety. But like most wonderful and frightening things in life they come unbidden and suddenly. Life is a chain of these ups and downs that make each day awesome, and for good or bad or better or worse we are tied to it. My Christian friends say I have faith and should praise Jesus for all my good fortunes. My Buddhist nature fully agrees but I prefer to spread compassion, giving or helping with little random acts of kindness and compassion as my personal responsibility. I know that worry and fear are very natural, passion and love, compassion and empathy are also natural. I see remorse for what was lost one moment is balanced in the next with happiness many times every day. But most of us take those happiness’s for granted and seek only to beg forgiveness for our sins in hopes that the awesome gift that is our daily lives will be somehow made richer, more shining and bright, better. I have gown into a different understanding. Life is movement and change. This is what I have faith in. I know that if I merely look and listen to the lives of others I will see the ebbs and flows of the tide of being alive. The same life of being that provides each of us the opportunity for understanding to evade poverty and addiction, to help others and dig within ourselves for strength. We are beings that auto-magically have the intellect and ability to be compassionate and control emotion, but not the will to make a habit of it. I know that I have the power to see the good in every moment or at least my lack of control of it. I believe that if everyone was to take life as it comes, living in the moment, that fear and worry would be reduced to passing thoughts. These two emotions would loose the power to erode our lives and perhaps prosperity of spirit and physical health would be improved.
Look around you at the people you presume are better off. Why do most of us see only the shell as a sign of health and fortune? I know a man paralyzed since his teens who’s biggest regret is that he can’t reassure strangers that he is fine. He can’t change their piteous glances into understanding because they automatically associate their form and function to his lack. I assure you he lacks very little. I know of people who exalt and praise the physically handicapped for dealing with daily life. They say “Look at them, how hard life must be?” “If they can do it, I can too!.” But People with cancer, lung or heart problems or psychological or neurological differences are more prevalent that those with an outward deformity. Why then do we not show similar pity and comparison for them? Because we don’t presume to know of their life as they don’t know of ours. So why then don’t we allow ourselves a moment of pity for ourselves? Why don’t we use our own accomplishments as reminders of how strong we are? I believe we should. We should each see the good and the bad as one thing – LIFE. This view makes fear and worry become just more feelings akin to nervousness, anticipation, and excitement which we all know come on too fast and leave us none the worse for wear. If we are able to allow these two hungry demons to pass unfed then the nourishment for Anxiety and Depression are in short supply.
If you don’t want a monkey on your back, quit feeding it.

The seasons of life.

Life is a collection of changes, impermanent changes. In a single life we can actually have many "lives". We have a life as a child, a teen, an adult. We have lives as single, married or divorced. We have no control of the changes that transition us from one life to another but we must make the best of every day.
I look back at my marriage and see how many different relationships that represents. I see clearly how many husbands I have been and how many wives I have had in our single and only marriage. Looking back, the first person I was in the beginning of the marriage was a lust filled and enamored young man, head over heels in adoration and fully committed to our friendship and partnership. For me at that time spontaneity, career aspirations, travel and freedom were the bonding agents of our relationship. Everything was exciting and new and it seemed that I was energized through the simple friction of a full schedule and physical contact.
When my wife became pregnant my life changed again- I became NEW-daddy, refocused in heart and mind and duty. I was a reassigned and dedicated version of my previous self. And I quickly found that my late night restless and playful hours could be spent on more quiet and rewarding demands. I learned what it meant to be tired and in love. I learned what the miracle of birth looks like and what it feels like (views which are in my opinion, apposed). I learned what it means to be responsible and unquestionably in love. And I learned that that all my creativity and mastery, and passion of art will only be like a match to the sun when compared to the beauty and emotion created by my wife. I learned what it meant to adore, to cherish, to share and both my wife and new son opened a well within me that lay beyond comprehension until it began to pour meaning into my life. We were blessed with this same occurrence when my daughter joined us several years later. Before my second child I became devout in the religion of my family’s wellbeing. This happened gradually over several years until it just was. Thoughts of me, mine and self faded to us, and ours.
At some point about three years later I changed again. I found myself content to just sit silently holding hands with my wife at dinner. I realized the pleasure of a quiet house or a day alone. I began to touch the deeper meanings of meditation and consciousness and awareness of “the moment”. I saw very clearly the importance of teaching my children about the world, nature and what respect and awareness are. I realized painfully that I can not protect their bodies and minds from the world. And more importantly I remembered all those things I enjoyed learning the hard way so in some situations I found I didn’t want to protect them. I realized what it is to share space and time with that which you created. I learned to feed and nurture, to communicate and conform and I began to learn to comfort, them, myself and others by sitting silently and being close.
I found the importance of my parents every stance and made some of my own. I watched the world grow in gasps and fits like weeds that appear overnight –and I began to hate shaving and mowing –these seem to waste so much time for so little a reward. Now, both get done every month or so. But most importantly in that phase I learned that Change comes unbidden and regardless. Change consumes and builds anew in an instant or a lifetime. I learned to celebrate change.
As my children are now sprouting into a teen ager and an adult, and fledgling wings are shedding pin feathers and flapping at the edge of the nest. I am learning to let go, to find a cool deep drink in a hug, a smile, a cuddle –but this comes to me too late. I am learning to enjoy myself and some of my own freedoms though they seem kind of boring without the family. And I wonder If I will some day soon begin to see the tail end of my circle. I wonder if I will become lust filled and playful, wanting travel and a care free existence filled with spontaneity and unscheduled days. But I guess that’s what every day really is; we lust for things, we are passionate and playful, we travel either in books and fairy tales, movies and family trips, and we are spontaneous with colds, and spills, and school projects and sleepovers. I think maybe I have always had hold of the tail end of my circle –it’s just the point I was looking at it from that changed.
We all work changes in the world, for good or bad we create change. So, Go! Work changes and enjoy the impermanence of your life.

She's so artsy...

I was recently at an art show where the artist had painted some very interesting and vibrant images. She painted busy images of cows wearing hats, and dogs in dresses and such. It was all colorful and visually appealing but not my taste of art. I found the images a little disturbing. I found myself grinning despite myself, not because the art gave me a silly or whimsical feeling, but because the artist looked very much like one of her subjects. She had on a huge Silly hat and what appeared to be her entire collection of jewelry, though I doubt it. Through the evening she repeatedly blurted out unrelated statements, lost her train of thought in the middle of conversations, and made a general mess of each area she landed in.
My encounter with this artist’s personification of what an artist is, or what she represents got me thinking of how untrue that eclectic, messy, unorganized, and generally discombobulated image of a professional artist is. In my experience it is quite the opposite of the perception.
It offended me that many people might see her and affirm their pigeon hole view of the typical artist. I could almost hear folks making the excuse “she’s so artsy…” when trying to bring some rationality to her appearance. Her stage show seemed to represent all that is rare in the qualities of an artist.
Art is no less a process of detailed dedication and standard method than any engineer must employ. I know this because I make my living as a Quality engineer, I get paid to design and develop mechanical and automated processes. And I am an Artist, I was born that way and like artists everywhere I must understand the basic requirements of my medium, physics and chemistry and composition. I must also understand how to design and develop an idea. These are all traits that are required in any other technical field of study. So why is the quintessential artist seen as a flake?
An artist must be more than just creative, to be successful he or she must also be able to develop mentally and emotionally to the point where they can “feel” the world. Like the mechanic who listens to a car to diagnose it or an machinist who can put his hand on a machine and tell if it is working properly an artist must understand his tools well enough to use them only when needed. An artist must be able to methodically mix paint, prepare a surface, mold or carve a material and envision the next step or an end result. An artist must learn to act on this internal feeling. An artist must be organized so that they have the right tool when they need it. They must be systematic so that they can automatically perform tasks that might draw their attention from the moment of creation.
I have been fortunate enough to have two very artistic parents. At an early age I was steeped in the arts. Museums, art shows, performances and art classes were more common than baseball to me as I grew up. We camped our way up the east coast visiting outdoor arts festivals and craft shows and always found our way into some of the greatest museums and galleries of the US. I rarely met or read about a professional artist or craftsman that was a babbling, disorganized person in a ramshackle wardrobe, though I am sure that Picasso may have been close to this at times.
Writing this I can call to mind many friends and acquaintances who meet my description.
I think my friend David Greenbaum expresses this well. He is a potter of some renown and has been a professional potter for 37 years. David has his silly side, he is a joker. He often has clay residue on many of his daily wear clothes and under his nails but away from his studio you would not know he was such a successful artist if you were to meet him at a party. His studio is well organized, straight and tidy and maintained for folks to drop by. My friend Linda is a professional painter who’s studio and style are equally businesslike and structured. She keeps detailed notes on each painting and her colors and materials so that her students can benefit from those hurdles or experiments that she takes on. I have many artist friends who for one reason or another are not full time artists; these folks too are structured and methodical in their job. I work with a Quality analyst who is also our technical writer but as a musician he comes alive, he teaches and judges competitions all over the US and has been collecting and cataloging early American music for 30 years. He is meticulous and scrutinizes every action with the precision of a surgeon. He wears the casual business clothes of a corporate employee, but he is an artist.
I know and respect Perry Yung as a musician, actor, and craftsman. He plays and makes the Shakuhachi flute and in learning to do so he had to learn to recognize the bamboo that will make a good flute. He had to learn to see and feel the possibility in a living stalk. And he had to develop his awareness of the mechanics and a method of a shakuhachi’s construction so that he could understand how it will work before it is completed. Like a machinist Perry must build a flute in a methodic and precise way. He must have the ability to overcome the unexpected with the awareness of a master machinist. When he plays in the process of making or repairing a flute, he must be able to “feel” the music and in doing so he must have his tools and work space clean and organized. His abilities are articulate and his manner must be that of a perfectionist. And in playing a flute that Perry has made or repaired, his patrons know him to be a master craftsman.
The artists of the 60’s and 70’s are stereotypes that need to be changed. In our hearts all artists are free spirits but in reality we are creatures of habit and organized existence.
So I did some research into what the term artist refers to exactly. What I found is that artists are classified very differently depending on who is performing the research. A “population” of artists is classified most commonly in the following ways.
Here’s what I found. Princeton University has done some interesting studies of artists, The percentages here are from one such study. All can be found here: http://www.princeton.edu/~artspol
Identifying artists by population in percentage of most common to least common (This might truly surprise you.)
Membership in a Professional Artist Group or Association (32 percent)
The Amount of Paid Time Devoted to Artistic Work (24 percent)
Professional Qualifications (14 percent)
Reputation and Recognition (10.5 percent)
Self-identification (10.5 percent)
Directories (9 percent)
Donnell Butler, Working Paper #12, summer 2000
So when identifying who is an artist we have way to many points of reference. Is it based on time producing art? Is it based on education? Or is it based on the groups you belong to or the awards you’ve won? Personally –I was born this way.

So here I am thinking about the woman I met. She was unusual, that’s true- but I have rarely met or read about a professional artist or craftsman that was a babbling, disorganized person in a ramshackle wardrobe.
My encounter with this artist’s personification of what an artist is, or what she represents got me thinking of how untrue that eclectic, messy, unorganized, and generally discombobulated image of a professional artist is. This understanding has been rising in me for some time and a funky smelling lady in a huge hat wearing a patchwork dress clinched the perception for me.
So as I sat down to start writing about how inaccurate the image of an “artist” is in our society.
I began to realize that the image and personification is kept well fed by some very talented folks. The entertainment industry occupies the other side of the arts, the performing arts. The likes of which include the band Kiss, Marilyn Manson, Lady Ga Ga, and many of my favorites The Red Hot Chili Peppers, Ministry, various Jamaican bands, the list goes on and on. Mainstream media helps feed these freakish personifications by exploiting every action and incident and I am sure that the PR manager for most performers orchestrates a good deal of the publicity negative or otherwise. Then there is the culinary arts, martial arts, and even architecture and mechanical arts. In the end I think I will just give up. We are all artists in some degree. Those who make it as a professional artist are organized and well planned –but not always. And who is classified or pegged as an artist could be anyone. We are all artists in many ways. Some write, some build, some design, some act, joke, teach… the list goes on and on. To me an artist is a person who creates, and we all create something. We are all passionate about something. But in my eyes a professional artist combines passion with perseverance and skill, and structure and mastery. So the sky’s the limit when it comes to artists. We are what we are, weird to some, artsy to others. But whatever the stereotype I am sure that most of us will never fit into that mold, but in time maybe some of us will become it.

Depths of my reason

The depths of my reason.I believe that I am a physical being. I believe this because my senses tell me that I am interacting with physical things. I touch the ground, the chair, a tree, my family. I am also eating, breathing, smelling, seeing, hearing. I smell my clothes warmed by the sun and feel the sun on my skin. The sun is real right? This is just one of many types of deep chains of thought that I will only wade into. I say wade because diving into them seems to be so dangerous. I recently had a conversation with someone who assured me that the consciousness resides within our brain. After I cited numerous articles on cellular memory and small muscle memory and organ implants that carried memories and emotions to the recipient, my friend proceeded to draw a line in the sand with a statement of “It can’t be because it’s just silly to think that way”. Well my friends it is something that has been observed in the medical community and by yours truly. I have also had similarly shallow discussions about dreams, the phenomenon of precognition and telepathy. The brain controls all our basis for reality and if it controls these things than does it also have some influence in what is real? One of my early masters stated that deep thought is wasted thought because it takes us away from the present moment and focuses us on God. “What does any of that have to do with God?” I said. “Everything and nothing –God is by definition unknowable, beyond contemplation and imagination and so are these deep thoughts.” He said. So was instructed to develop a foundation on that which I know and have experienced. That foundation is built in a spiral, up and up I have built over the years and when I have built my tower of knowledge Anyone will be able to enter at the bottom and climb on stable footing. I have to wonder if this is different from many of the deep contemplative teachings that we examine today. Aren’t we merely looking down into the tower of knowledge that was build over the last several thousand years? So I have been taught and I believe that when we dive off into deep layers of thought and begin to build a chain that carries us link by link further into the dark unknown the more dangerous it is.

Arming yourself for the future

Being laid off will have lingering effects on your life. One of which is the decision you make next. “What now?” is assuredly most common reaction. What now in deed.
For many of us the scenario is fraught with feelings akin to the loss of a loved one, grief, anger, blame, denial and acceptance. But during that cycle you are forced to address the question “What now?”.
For me it happened like this. I was a successful manager of a department that was well under control. I had been managing the department for several years and wanted a challenge. I was offered another Management position with far more employees and far more challenges. Challenges that I was sure I could handle despite the fact that this position was in a different division and a field entirely. But I believed that managing people and processes would be basically the same, and I had managed large groups in the past in a previous line of work.
Within the year, I had the employees trust, I had provided training and career paths where they were needed and in doing so the department had lost some of those folks who were better suited for different work. The illustrious numbers were great and all was well except we (the company) had been implicated in a recall and some related litigation. Stock prices fell –and middle management got cut. 5 out of 11 managers found ourselves holding a box. And as I was walking out like an escorted guest I remember thinking how pleasant the trial and conviction had been; all positive and professional with apologies and handshakes and wishes of good luck. Like at a funeral. And then I wondered “What did I sign?”. Sitting in my car after shaking the Security guards hand I thought with a tear in my eye “What now?”.
After sulking for a few days with the gears of my mind spinning like they were lubed with molasses I began to paint, garden, read cook, clean and pick the kids up from school. I thought that if we cut back on groceries and gas and we ate out less and a hundred other things happened that I could stay home do some freelance work and supplement my income with the sales of my paintings. Well, in reality what I thought we could do was misaligned with what we needed to do to cover my medical bills, insurance, food, utilities and so forth. After crunching the numbers it wasn’t gonna save us much if I stayed home. SO There I was again “what now?”
Looking back I realized that this next decision was very counter culture. What I choose to do goes against the US dream and the primary edict of our government. What I choose to do was downsize myself. I chose to find a job that was not management; I wanted less money and less responsibility, less damn prosperity. I decided that I would look for less stress, for less demands, less hours, just less of those things that had driven me for the past 25 years. I was ready to begin focusing on what drove me instead of the economy.
Well that’s easier said than done. Overqualified people are often distrusted like that free horse whose teeth no one is supposed to look at.
“So Mr. McLeod, tell us again why you left your last company?”
“You do realize this is not a salaried position.”
One man even said “So are you sure you won’t mind if we perform a background check?”
Seriously why is it so hard to understand why someone would want to look at their life from a position of living rather than earning?
Every day we are bombarded with get rich quick schemes, ways to work less and get paid more and even ways to get paid for doing things that don’t seem like work. But the fact of the matter is these jobs are marketed to people who want more. Our whole society is built on desire and ambition and the prize at the end. “Mo-money, Mo-money, Mo-money –Yah!” Not this man. I don’t like the view that that type of lens provides. That road seems endless. And frankly when I began to look at what I had and what I wanted to have when I first began working as a kid, I was there. That realization made me content. I began to see how comfortable I was and I began to realize the stability I had by working less and living more.
So now I have time to grow a small garden that provides more memories with my family than food. I have time to meditate and play the flute. I have time to take professional courses and get training in areas I never thought would interest me, like programming and bookbinding. And when I look over my finances the funny thing is we are able to save more because those things that drove me to make more money also drove me to spend more money, needlessly.
I believe that at least once in everyone’s life they are given a chance to arm themselves for their future. We are given a chance to pause on our journey and look at what we think we need to do next. Most of us seem to go for the gold. But for some of us paper plates are just fine.

Wild flowers and kudzus

As human beings we have been given the power of choice. We can choose our surroundings, we can choose our interactions, we can choose how we look and in so doing we can choose how we are perceived.
But I have found that in most cases people in general fail to choose the way they grow in the world. As humans it seems ingrained in us to struggle for control of things we can’t possibly get control of and to ignore those things that we could. I recently spent about 20 hours in a car driving through the south east. As I drove along my wonderful and scenic route I noticed that there were dramatic similarities to how people and nature coexist. There are of course stark lines demarking corn fields and pastures and wooded tracts. These are tended by men sitting alone in a tractor, constantly vigilant of the borders of their control. There are those segments of land that were once clear-cut and decimated, that lie feral. These lush places are littered with dead wood, dense undergrowth, and many animals all balled together in a chaotic biomass waiting for time to dictate their place in the scenery. There are fields and prairies, lakes and swamps each melding into one another with splattered edges and fingers of encroachment. These places are well established and their boundaries’ have been shared for hundreds of years as the weather permitted.
But as I look beyond what man or evolution has placed upon the land I see two stridently apposed attitudes.
There are huge tracts of land engulfed in the invasive kudzu. These areas are much worse in my opinion than those fence tracts reined by the tiller. Kudzu sees only its desire and its dominance. It slowly moves to cover its neighbors with its needs and its will. Its fruit and roots expand it without check heedless of its destruction as it chokes its neighbors.
This virulent plant spreads its attitude in all directions like a gale on a calm lake. It is senseless, reckless and unchallenged. We all know a kudzu.
In stark contrast are the wild flowers they are everywhere; in dump sites, on dilapidated roof tops, reclaiming abandoned strip malls, and especially intertwined with those other areas. They even stand stately and revered alongside and within those stark boundaries of farms and fence lines. They happily poke their smiling faces from under the Kudzu that fights the fenceline, rock ledge or roadside.
I see these two types of people growing along the route of my life. I make a choice many times a day which one I will be at home, at work, and in my surroundings. I hope that the bright colors and shiny attitude that I feel in my mind is expressed in the way people see me. And I hope that we can all keep the kudzus at bay.

Cool water, life giver, life taker - Respect for life's blood.

I love old movies. I especially like old movies about treasure hunters and gangsters. And I have always been a little intrigued with the fascination of bathing in gold or cash. This has always seemed weird to me. I understand that it must fulfill some people’s desire to have enough money to bathe in but I never understood it. Never that is until recently. I am looking at things much differently since my neighbors well ran dry. I think I understand the desire to bathe in something rare and precious.
Have you ever realized that water is a very crucial and well mixed ingredient in the cake of our lives? I mean besides the fact that we can’t live without it and we are mostly comprised of it.
We are surrounded by it. We are literally baptized in it. Water is not the root of life; it is the stuff that that root feeds on and yet most modernized people don’t seem to have any respect for it. Well that’s sad. I believe the saying that: “Water unused returns in rain, water shared returns in grain, water wasted causes pain, and when waters poisoned we all are slain”.
This seems to be a silly saying from the old west, but we are all involved in this interesting yet simple prophesy. The best action to take is the simplest - be mindful. If we live in the moment then conservation becomes mandatory and waste becomes illogical. If I am brushing my teeth –Then the water doesn’t need to be turned on –when I rinse the toothbrush –I turn on the water. Logical
When we bottle it, it’s poisoned by plastics, when we defecate in it it’s poisoned by bacteria, when we mix it with chemicals like the common things we use to preserve food –it’s poisoned. When we mix it with chemical fertilizers -it’s poisoned. And now even rain is poisoned. I don’t like to think of my children’s future when I see some dumbass washing down the parking lot of the local Gas station. I can’t stand that water restrictions are only placed on residences –not on golf courses or huge factories that dump pollution as steam or drainage.
Water and air, we are mostly water and air and yet we continue to have such little respect for these things. My antagonists in this argument claim that I am just as much to blame as they are. In some ways I agree. But we live on a shallow well –that has forced us to look at everything we use water for as a drain on a quickly depleted resource. I collect rainwater, a lot of it, that we use for anything that doesn’t require it to be clean. I don’t fertilize with anything but compost. Quick showers, no washing the cars, Water efficient clothes and dish washing and when I can afford the expense we will have a grey water collection and filtration system.
There are many people who say I’m weird to go to this extreme. To them I say one day maybe they’ll change their mind. I can only hope that in the future kids won’t watch old movies about treasure hunters and gangsters, and wonder why the heck those people would want to bathe in that dirty stuff. After three days without it, clean water becomes the most valuable thing we could ever want. Where will you hide your treasure?

Super Buddha -up, up and away

In several conversations, written down in Sutras The Buddha speaks of a superman. Buddha himself makes the statement that he is a superman and says that such a man can be recognized by “32 marks” or traits. He says that such a man has only two paths in life. These supermen can either live a life of a world liberator ie; Buddha, or that of a Leader of men in politics and worldly power. I have read these 32 marks or traits and found them to be so bizarre as to suggest that in fact the Buddha was suggesting that anyone can be a king of men or a Buddha. These 32 traits seem so fanciful that they are almost sarcastic. But yet I’m not sure. In the Diamond Sutras these traits are said to be –“…thirty two are really… no-marks” when Buddha is speaking to Subhuti: “The Lord asked: What do you think, Subhuti, can the Tathagata be seen by means of the thirty-two marks of the superman? Subhuti replied: No indeed, O Lord. And why? Because those thirty-two marks of the superman which were taught by the Tathagata, they are really no-marks. Therefore are they called 'the thirty-two marks of the superman.”.
I think that each of us may be born with the potential to become so destined. I think that it is akin to winning the Spiritual lottery. If you have enough Karma in one life you can get many more tickets and improve your chance of winning, but just like a lottery, many drawings might be held until someone gets just the right combination of numbers. So perhaps the Spiritual Lottery has thirty two distinct number slots or factors. This means that if we presume that there are only say 200 distinct marks or traits of the human body and psyche (e-harmony only uses 29). Then we must calculate 1X as 32/200. 2X as 31/199, 3X as 30/198 and so forth down to 1/169 Then we must represent these as decimals and multiply them together. 1X * 2X * 3X * 4X and so forth. This presents us with a probability that any of us might be able to be a Buddha or a King of men. But we must also factor in all those who were born and died since the last Buddha, unless we would like to expand our chances and include folks like Gandhi, and Hitler, Churchill, and Jesus –then perhaps our chances are improved. But what if we also except that some beings will evolve and others will regress. Wow the number I reached before putting all these constraints into the equation was already 32 decimal points below zero. Well my point is that I think The Buddha was making a point. He was essentially saying we are all Buddhas and there are no Buddhas, We are all kings and there are no kings. Life is based on a point of view and we all have one.
Personally I like to think of Leaders of men as Superman –it makes them more human. And I love the idea that when Buddha put on his working robes and some glasses, No one know who he was.
What do you think Superman or sarcasm?

What's normal

Today I was chatting with someone who has MS and someone who has Fibromyalgia. They were telling me about good days and bad days. I said a don't have bad days I just have days that frustrate and challenge me, but thats not a bad day. I mentioned that there are little reversals of focus that have really helped me over the years. The first and foremost is my definition of health. Many people in our position envy other folks, "healthy" folks. We see vitality as something akin to the energizer bunny. We judge the book by its cover –even when we are the book. I have learned to see health and define healthy as something very different than most. Just as we should not measure intelligence based on what you can be taught. But instead by your capability to see and envision and use your mind uniquely and beyond convention, so then health should not be based on a state of normalcy or ability but on how we manage the states of stress and live without disability. I have seen disabled people who live happily in conditions that would cause most “normal” people to breakdown, give up, or become frozen with despair. As a primary example are many artists, academics and athletes with disabilities. Some were congenital some were contracted but these folks are not defined by their lack of… but rather by their achievements and by their "normalcy".
Redefining healthy is the first step. The second step is redefining what makes up a good day.
For me, I like to say that any day above ground is a good day. Waking up is my cake and everything else is icing. I know that sounds fluffy and cliché but I live that statement.
- In this moment I am writing to new friends, people who have a voice and honesty and are paying attention to what I have to say and are responding. That is awesome. I can speak, I can see, my list of I can’s goes on and on.
I meditate with an inner focus so that when pain arises I understand it, I don’t fear it, and (although sometimes this is tough) I don’t let it engulf me. When I am meditating If there is pain I look at it –I address it and then I mentally turn my back on it and change my attention. IF it keeps calling to me I treat my pain like a crying child, soothing thought, soothing words, listen to it, understand what is causing it and if it’s in my power to fix by adjusting my leg or adjusting my back, I do that. But when its deeper, and or is related to the unique situations that my illness causes –then I make a decision to keep meditating or not –IF I choose to keep meditating then the pain comes along with me on the journey –it is after all part of me and sometimes ignoring it or pretending it isn’t there is just another way of seeing myself as less than whole. I used to teach art to children. The first thing I would do is explain to the parents that art is meerly a physical embodyment of the emotions and visions of the creator. I worked for about an hour with the parents and only the parents of my new students to help them redefine art in their minds. Then I would help the kids overcome their doubts and to eliminate tha need to compare themselves to others. You see we are all artists in our own way. A stick figure is art, a blue tree and purple mountain with a smily face sun is art. We are all in our own unique way a wonderful and powerful work of art, but most of us have never had someone teach us how not to compare.

Most of us have never seen ourself and all we do as normal. Normal is a unique definition, are you using someone elses or do you have your own?

Listen to the mustn'ts, child.Listen to the don'ts.

Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts.

Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me...

Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.

I have been working hard to eliminate the stereotypes I have. This is a very difficult practice when it comes to robes. I think we all have issues with robes.
When we see a person wearing a robe we instantly presume we are acquainted with the intent or profession of that person. And we often have a stereotypical lifestyle of the wearer comes to mind as well. Why? What is it about the robe that has appealed to the learned, the wise, the scholarly, and more pointedly those persons dedicated to religious pursuits for so many years that every continent in the world has its well known robed figures?
Over the years the robe has come to mean very different things to various people. Many social, religious and educational systems around the world use robes to denote achievement and status such as the Catholic Church, The Ku Klux Klan, and the legal and collegiate systems. But what is it about the robe that becomes ingrained in the psyche more than any other uniforms? A Catholic or Jesuit priest stands out in his robes as does a Klansman, a professor and a Judge and of course the Buddhist or Christian Orthodox monks. The idea of a portly “Friar” presents an image of peaceful reserve and kindness. The Image of a Klan’s man presents quite the opposite image. Lately eastern clerics have begun to mold a stereotypical image with a robe and turban. But I couldn’t even begin to describe the Iraqi or Iranian military uniforms. Historically this raiment has represented the poor and humble, but that’s been changed over the centuries. The lack of tailoring and accoutrements is what ancient peoples associated with the poor and lower class; wanderers, beggars, unclean and untouchable. As time progressed these garments began to represent the scholarly, wise and religious and pious persons in many countries and cultures. So why in this modern world are these garments so dramatically ingrained in our minds in association with the stereotypical wearer? I believe that has to do with history, the vast and almost unchanged history. A robe is a robe is a robe. This simple garment in its many forms is the oldest article of clothing still in use today. After centuries of seeing certain groups and sects, factions and fraternities wearing the same colored robes, stereotypes have become well rooted in all cultures of the world. Whether woven, tied, tanned, or sewn together robes signify the wearer’s position and station and what they stand for. Whether they do or not is another issue entirely.