You my son.

My morning raising, shown bright and clear

At dawns first touch I shed a tear, to show the joy your presence brought, and to release my doubts, and selfish thought.

My life that morn began anew, my duties reassigned to you.

I have provided as well I could, of hearth and home, of land and wood

I bore you son upon my back, and love and cared with words and acts.

I watched you thrive from babe to boy, I watched you grow and shine.

I proudly listened to the praise and prayed my thanks that you are mine.

I also prayed for slowing time, to give more time to you.

I wish I had more of life to give, as you come of age.

Yes- I see you looking past your this cage.

I see the man within my boy, who now lifts tools, instead of toys.

I see you adding to my wealth with arm and heart, with mind and health.

I know you do not see those things, the rounded arms and budding wings.

I know too well the thoughts you’ll have

I know too well the needs.

The strength and greatness are not mine to give,

I can only plant the seeds.

SO as you grow into a man, and add your life to mine.

When you look inside your heart to question what is there, waste no thoughtful time on what you are to me.

With an unyielding faith please know.

You are the light within my soul

 

 

 

 

The weather here is wonderful. A cool 72 with a lite breeze. It is hammock weather; at least here in Florida, elsewhere -hammocks are buried under snow and thoughts of warm weather are only day dreams.
So on this wonderful day I wanted to relax, and read my new raku book under the budding trees. I also wanted to throw a pot or two and smoke two small pots that I had made last year. There are so-many things that I want to do. That struck me as the theme of many conversations that I have had with people over the years. Conversations that lead towards bad endings, hurt feelings, broken engagements and even car accidents. What makes us take that spare day, 12 or more hours of unscheduled freedom, and section it into tangerine like morsels to be crowded full of a months worth of no-time-wants. I think it is a lot of things on the surface. But as I swung in the hammock earlier today, struggling to read the 5th page of my book, it struck me. We are afraid. The fear of accomplishing nothing of value is hardwired into us. We are born with tasks set out before us. Hold your head up, roll over, crawl, stand, say the first word and so forth. And as parents we rate our child like any other accomplishment. Did we see results on time, early or late. Teeth straight, speaks well, reads well -good breeding stock -

Wow that's a lot to deal with. And it sure as hell makes it hard to go through life, unpredictable, impermanent and chaotic life. Fear is the spring of many many issues that we have.  We all seem to be really afraid of accomplishing nothing. This desire to accomplish whatever pops to mind within our self imposed time frame is just one of the aspects of this root emotion and controllable spring of suffering. Today amidst my many thoughts and wishes and to-do's, I realized that there are some times when focus towards accomplishments is healthy. That's when there is little or no fear. I saw this as I was going through physical therapy. Many of the patients around me were recovering from strokes or head trauma. The Physical Therapists Start by saying "there is no goal, if you are able to move a little bit we will celebrate it." (This is a very Zen state of mind to me, celebrating the tiniest of movements of the immobile is truly warranted. But we are blind to this) Gradually, day by day, many people progress; some slowly, some quickly, but always there is reasons for celebration.  Remembering this brought me back to my present moment. My desire to accomplish so many things. So I started by reading.
I have had difficulty reading for many years now and for someone who used to be avidly reading several books at any given time whenever I can focus on and digest the written word I celebrate it. So this morning I sat outside and read. No deadlines, no expectations, had I read one sentence or the full chapter I was happy to be able to read. I did get to lay in the hammock, I did get to turn some clay. But there was no pot or even a semblance of a pot completed. As a matter of fact I  had so much fun trying to just get the clay centered on the wheel , that I did that for about an hour. And I feel like that was a great learning experience. So when my wife walks in the door and asks what I did today I will say I read 4 pages that I remember. I worked on centering clay on the wheel and turned some clay into oddly shaped cylinders and then tossed it back into the clay bag. And I wrote a short page on the problems that arise within all of us when we expect to accomplish anything, though we are in control of very little.
 How was your day?

Barrel of Monkeys

In recent years I have heard people use the term monkey mind to describe all sorts of mental states, meditative thoughts or habits. “Monkey mind and horse will” is often used in Chinese literature to explain interwoven mental states and even some personalities. But my personal understanding comes from working with a powerful and energetic Japanese woman, 4 foot 6 and old as dirt. My first real experience with this term came about in 1981 when I was introduced to my friend Minimisu. She was in her late 70’s and often talked in a rhythmic manner when discussing her garden or cooking. You see I was fortunate enough to have been given a job as her gardener, by her husband. I was supposed to mow, weed, move rocks, build and maintain fences and so forth. But that work didn’t ever start until after lunch. What I really did was follow Minimisu around her many landscaped acres digging, planting and learning.

She would greet me by her garden gate every weekday morning at 6:30, rain or shine, hot weather or cold. She would sing and pull weeds, she would sing and rake and she would sing and pick vegetables, fruit and herbs, she would sing and make tea.

“Singing keeps me focused” she used to say. She never followed a schedule but always seemed to be on time to do everything. So I was surprised one day when I arrived at the garden gate at 6:40, to find her seated in a chair with her work gloves in her lap. I expected to hear her say “Your late.”, or “Did your watch break?” Instead she said nothing. She smiled and escorted right to the garden. “I’m sorry for being late.”I said, and began to explain that my old van didn’t start in the cold. I began to describe how I had to call a neighbor to jump start it when she looked me in the eye and said “Let go of that now, we have work to do.” All that day I kept replaying her statement “let go of that” Let go of what? What had I held onto that needed letting go of? I must have gone over it 15 times in my head. Did she mean I didn’t owe her an apology? Did she mean I had better get a new car? Maybe she was really talking to herself and meant that she needed to let me go. I was so wound up thinking about it that I finally had to ask; “let go of what?”

And then began a very long discussion about “Monkey mind”. To Minimisu I had spent my time that day wasting a lot of “healthy energy” on something that could not grow. My mind had grabbed onto something inside my head and held on for many hours.

She said that once in her childhood she had seen a monkey dragging around the skull of another monkey. It’s hand firmly holding onto something inside and its arm locked through the eye socket. “What was it holding onto?” I asked. “Shit” she said with a grin, maybe a pebble, maybe some rotted piece of fruit –something that had fallen inside the skull and was lost, lost and unimportant. But when the monkey’s fingers touched it, he was sure that he had found a most delicious prize. He instantly convinced himself it was worth all the effort he could muster.

“Monkeys are constantly sticking their fingers and hands into dark places. Just like you do with your attention.” She said. “I sing to keep my hands where I can see them, my monkey hands are spent on that song grabbing memories of my mother and aunts singing. I am remembering my days as a child –but always thinking of things that involved that song. This way my horse can keep working. “Your horse?” what horse? –“my mind horse.” Then she smacked my leg with the rake and pointed at the ground where I had stopped digging. I jumped right back to digging, head down. “There –there’s your horse!” she said with a smile.  I tried to stay focused on digging, but I had so many questions that I blurted out “Where the monkey go?”  “How can I have a horse mind and a monkey mind at the same time?” “The monkey is on your back,” she laughed. “He thinks he’s in control of the horse –that’s why we make him sing.”  “The horse knows where to go, what to do. The horse is strong and smart. Once he learns how, you just have to ask and he will do it.”

“But the monkey likes to pull on the horses ears. Go this way, let’s look at that, stop, go back, run fast… The monkey always wants something different from the horse. Unless…” “We have the monkey sing a song, we make him focus on remembering the song and all those things related to the song.” I said Minimisu grinned and smacked my leg with the rake again.

We talked for hours about the monkey and the horse and who’s in control. But in the end I decided that there is an ever evolving relationship between the two. On is constantly trying to learn and explore and dream, the other is focused and willful and able to carry the brunt of the load, especially the mundane and repetitive work.

Now I’ve read many books about the “monkey”, and I’ve studied some of the Chinese texts that mention these ideas, but to me nothing sums it up better that my singing mentor.

Worry and Fear

Today I woke to my son telling me something was wrong with his face. Sure enough as I looked at him one side of his face was swollen dramatically. It looked like he inflated his lips and cheek on the right side of his face. I had no idea what to make of it and I began to automatically go through the type of questions that would narrow the course of action and allow me to help as best as I was able. It turned out to be the beginning of an allergic reaction. This is something new for him and he will have to have tests and so forth.


This occurrence caused me to reflect on the evolution of fear and it’s more harmful brother – worry. I was thinking about why I cannot always prevent their growth in me. For many of us fear relates to the relationship between the unknown and wellbeing of ourselves or someone we care for. Fear may arise quickly and subside as quickly. Like when Dr. says “Oh , it’s nothing, this is very common, you’ll be fine.” What that statement says to us is “If this happens again don’t be afraid you’re not in danger.”

If you get a nose bleed as a kid –you are sure you’re gonna bleed to death. Or the first time you stub your little toe –OUCH –you’re sure it’s broken. As we get more informed and begin to understand our bodies more fears about ourselves and others begin to subside and become more infrequent. It starts all over again when you have your first child. By the third you’re a pro and it seems as though little fazes you.

Worry on the other hand isn’t so easy to fix. Worriers focus on the unknown and unknowable and manifest the worst possible scenario as predesigned occurrences. “I know these migraines are killing me!” is a fairly dramatic worry, but the slim chance that this is possible makes it very real at that time.

After 28 years of dealing with PTSD, and other issues (that I had no idea I was dealing with) without the care of a physician. I was happy to hear from my psychologist that I had great coping skills. What that meant to me was that I had done well diagnosing and treating myself. Buddhism taught me how to do that. Even those new to Buddhism learn that pain and suffering arise from within. We learn that we have the power to understand and eliminate the seeds of suffering inside our mind and we have the power to understand our bodies, in many instances, better than a physician. It is OUR body after all.

I used to have mental discussions like this often to calm myself and alleviate worry. My mental coping ladder goes something like this: I think I need to get to a Dr. (Why?) Something is wrong? (Why do I think that?) I feel dizzy and clammy. (Does my head hurt?)No. but I think my heart is racing (your nervous) So why am I feeling like this? (I’ve been drinking enough water.) Ya, so (When did I eat last?) About three hours ago. (a salad and fruit juice?) No, not fruit juice- water. (Get some fruit juice –your sugar is low.) But what if it isn’t that? (just get some juice and give it 10 minutes) After that I’m gonna get worried again (sure we can do this all over again in 10 minutes.)

This might seem silly, even childish. But after the medical history of my childhood, these little scenarios became common when I got into adulthood. The unfocused mind would settle on something trivial, the lack of reason for that focus would cause a physical auto-response and then I would have several minutes of 20 questions to get my mind to focus on the known and not the unknown. I learned the hard way how to live in the moment and be present in the known world. But for me this lesson saved my life. I had multiple open heart surgeries before I was 10 and have a history of heart issues. So I am very aware when my heart is doing something it shouldn’t. I had been to the ER 4 times in a 4 month period. So, when yet another ER Dr.’s said that my blood work and EKG were normal (for me), on the fourth trip to the ER,. I said No. I explained what I was feeling once again and asked for my Cardiologist. They put me in a room for the night and the following morning my Dr. and I had a discussion about what had been happening over the last several months. I had been following up with her after each ER visit and she had come to the same conclusions as the Er Docs, I was fine. SO I asked if there were any issues that the EKG and blood work could miss. Not really, she said. But we could do an Echocardiogram.

After that I was immediately scheduled for open heart surgery to repair one valve and a hole in my arterial wall. Apparently one of the leads from my pacemaker had gotten a little loose and every time my heart beat the lead rubbed on the arterial wall, eventually making a hole and then damaging a valve.

I have a lot of experience with fear and worry. Much of it was easily explained and calmed. But I believe the main reward for the practice of eliminating suffering by self reflection is that in training our minds to understand what is real and what is imagined we learn to know and trust our inner awareness, and that can save your life. And it also teaches us that Fear and worry also have a purpose, which is to help us learn what causes pain and why.

And understanding that is a very necessary part of being Buddhist.

A short story to live your life by. By: Scott McLeod

The pond was immense. Ten thousand generations of frogs had lived there. It was green and lush. The food was plentiful, the dangers were few and the climate changed little in an ever turning wheel of night and day. The Frog lived on his Lilly pad. His neighbors had similar pads some larger some smaller, as old frogs died new frogs moved in and as lily pads curled and sank a new one was there to take its place. As far as any frog alive knew, back into history the world had been like this.

The Frog had seen many seasons come and go. He had seen storms tear at the pond. He had seen flocks of birds sift through his neighbors. But his pond was always the same. Every year he saw the emergence of lotus flowers. They rose slowly from beneath the dark water green, like raindrops by the thousands, lifting to the sun. Overnight they would open pale yellow with reddish glowing gems in each center. Insects swarmed the flowers and the frogs gorged themselves. Tiny little frogs emerged from the water at this same time every year to join their family and grow and thrive. And as the flowers faded the birds came to sift through the pond taking away the slow, infirmed and aged.
It was at this time that this frog found himself staring into the eye of a large stork. The frog closed his eyes tight and began to mutter. This stork turned his head and listened. He had never paused in his hunt to listen but today he was very curious. “What’s that you are saying frog?” said the stork. “I am asking to be returned to the world, I am glad to have been here and wish to return after you eat me.”

“Who are you asking?” said the stork. “Oh –I ask myself. I want my last thoughts to filled with pure gratitude and longing for life in this place and in this time. I ask myself to return”

“Humph –that’s silly.” scoffed the stork. “Return from my stomach, ya in a gooey mess!” he tittered.

The frog returned to his inward thoughts.

“Well let’s say you do come back.” said the stork.

“What will you come back as? another frog? “Oh maybe,” said the frog “maybe.”

“But the image I keep seeing in my mind just now was that of a beautiful lotus flower.” said the frog.

“A flower?” said the stork. “Why a lotus flower?”

“IS this not the most beautiful place in the world?” said the frog.

The stork shrugged

Is this pond not the most luxurious and accommodating pond.”

The stork shrugged again.

Well –If I were to be a part of this world I would choose to be a part of the beginning of the world, to look back in history and know that I reflect the light of the sun like a star filled gem on the water. I want to know that it was me that was the beauty that attracted and fed the flying insects and so the frogs and so the storks.

I would know that it was me who greeted the little ones as they emerged from the darkness and it was me that the elderly and infirmed saw as they passed into it. My roots would be joined to the entire world and my seeds would spread my likeness and my spark into eternity.”

“I admire your position.” said the stork. But I am hungry and I must eat.

“So you must.” said the frog and he bowed low.

The next day the stork was looking into the eye of a crocodile.

And as he stood frozen in terror, thoughts of fear and pain clouded his mind and soon nothing remained of the stork but a gooey mess.

Work to make this life a beautiful place that you would love to return to and your every moment will be heavenly and you will find it easier to be understanding of whatever comes along.

A good argument

I don’t think there is anything like a good old fashioned argument. I’m not talking about a debate; all formal and prepared where we point and counter point our way to two plausible solutions. And I am certainly not including the new age “disagreement” where people are verbally sparring ; “ I’m right and your right” but we are both grinning and the mood is still copacetic AND neither of us is really admitting to having a closed mind on the subject. I am talking about a quarrel , A butting of heads, a honest to goodness yelling match where neither of us gives up an inch that isn’t won where both of us have our experiences and education to use as exhibits and arguments. I’m talking about when we are both getting winded and our minds are flung wide open searching for evidence to prove our point .
I love a good argument because it allows two people to passionately express their inner most belief, or their sharp edged view and even their ignorance or intellect. To me there is something exhilarating and primal about a good argument. To me having a heated discourse allows us to absorb new ideas and really inspect our point of view, it allows us to pour out our perception into the air like a cloud so that everyone around us can breathe it, taste it and ruminate on it. I have always learned something valuable from an argument. I have had very memorable arguments and far more unmemorable ones. Sometimes in my close relationships I have had arguments about nothing –just because what was really bothering me had nowhere else to vent.
I am mentioning all this because I have met several people lately who insist that raising my voice in protest and argument is wrong, they have said- as Buddhists we should be reserve and acquiescent. We should be silent observers. Well I’ve read quite a lot of the Buddha’s teachings and the various Buddhist texts and they are filled with arguments, profound points of view that are debated in a lively, aggressive and challenging manner. But I will agree that there is reason to believe we Buddhists should be calm and collected. There is very little emotion expressed in the Buddhist texts, Pali cannon’s, and Sutra’s , they are written as lectures, discussions and educational some even as fables. But I know arguments were there –there had to be energetic, lively, and passionate arguments, otherwise who would have really paid attention. Sometimes –for me –right speech gets a little loud.

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.