Tis the season…
“Once you taste the living truth, you are never again fooled by the imitation drink in the carton.”
–Karen Maezen Miller
From My Backyard
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Category Archives: Buddhism
Pondering the Soul
Do souls exist before they are incarnated? What is a soul? I perceive soul as energy. When it is embodied, it expresses through the filter of a personality. Personality is shaped by genetics, temperament, and experiences. Does a soul retain the particular “flavor” of personality after the body dies? I would like to think so. I would like to believe that the infinite universe can hold the essences of all the soul-personalities that ever existed. Although I have no empirical evidence, the mystic in me is intuitively open to this possibility.
Where does Love exist? We exist in Love. We forget this, so we create suffering for ourselves and others. Love is the mystery of the universe; it exists in all forms as well as that which is formless. A body that dies loses its form. Yet the soul-personality remains with us in Love.
As to what these soul-personalities do, whether there is reward or punishment, I do not know. I do not believe there is a ruling God who decides on an eternal afterlife for each soul. I sense that when we leave our bodies and lives on earth, whatever that has separated us from complete union with Love is removed, and this is healing and redemption.
“Love is our liberation. There is no other place to go.” – Karen Maezen Miller
Mostly Nothing Much
“In the end, people don’t view their life as merely the average of all its moments — which, after all, is mostly nothing much plus some sleep. For human beings, life is meaningful because it is a story. A story has a sense of a whole, and its arc is determined by the significant moments, the ones where something happens. Measurements of people’s minute-by-minute levels of pleasure and pain miss this fundamental aspect of human existence. A seemingly happy life maybe empty. A seemingly difficult life may be devoted to a great cause. We have purposes larger than ourselves.”
-Atul Gawande, Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End
One of Those Days
I’m having one of those days — I am so grateful to be alive.
The act of walking, the taste of coffee, the coziness of a blanket.
The emotion stirred by music, the brain food from books, the hugs from my child.
Greeting the parent who shows up every school morning to be crossing guard.
My breath with its precious oxygen that feeds my blood which my heart pumps reliably and perpetually through my body according to instructions from my nervous system and brain.
That any of it IS remains a mystery and a miracle.
Got the Time?
Where is time’s home?
Where does time live in all its cosmic mystery of millions of years and billions of sunrises? Were does it reside? Where is it, shall we say, most comfortable?
The answer, I think, is within us. That’s because we are the unfolding place for time. We are saturated with time. Right now, as you read these words, it’s rolling out from you. It’s filling space with your awareness of this one precious present moment. That, after all, is all the time we ever know. The past is a memory and the future an idea. But this moment, this breath, this deep sigh of relief or exhaustion, of care or concern — that, really, is all there is to time. The rest is nothing but words on a page or equations on a blackboard.
-Adam Frank, NPR
Enlightenment Through a Cat
God has come into my life. Now, don’t click away. Don’t let that word shut you down. I might not mean what you think I mean. It’s not a word I’ve used in my life for years. Stay with me while I meander through my story.
This is Smokey. He’s been around a long time. He was in the neighborhood when we moved into the house five years ago. He belongs to no one and everyone. For years, I would scratch behind his ears and say hello, and then I’d go on with my life. Someone fed him. Someone gave him shelter in bad weather. But he was just around, and I did not seek him, nor did he seek me. (Of course, my Stella cat was still with us until January 2014.)
In January, Smokey began hanging out in our back yard. He would sleep in our garden. He liked to pop bubbles with Bean. He starting sitting on my lap. He allows me to trim his nails. Even though we didn’t feed him, he stuck around. Last month, I began feeding him. I did this after he brought me a live bird he’d caught and delivered to my feet. So now he gets two meals a day.
I made him a little shelter when rainstorms came. But mostly, he likes to sleep on me or the mulch.
He was injured in early April, so I took him to a vet. He didn’t want to go, but once there he chilled in the exam room waiting for the doctor. I’ve never seen a cat so mellow at a vet’s office.
My husband is not open to having another pet, so for now, Smokey is not permitted in the house. He strides right in the front door some mornings, though, clearly telling us he wants to be ours. I usher him out.
The other day as I sat on my patio with Smokey on my lap, this thought arose: “Every afternoon, God takes a nap on my lap.”
Where did that come from? I don’t know, but it felt true and real. Last Saturday morning after I fed him, I reflected on the morning. And one sentence that came was, “I fed God breakfast, and now he has gone to stroll the neighborhood, looking after all the world.”
Oh my goodness. Yes. God sought me out. God has chosen me. God loves me, and I love God. This word — God — is loaded with so much history for me. It evokes vastly different meanings for people, and so I avoid using it. But this is what IS in my life. This cat. His arrival, his presence, is a call to sit and be quiet. An invitation to intimacy. I recognize God in my life. THIS is what it means to have a relationship with God!
Extending that metaphor, I experience God everywhere. In every person, animal, plant, and rock. God is everything and everywhere. God is found in acts of care, and God is found in simple being. My goodness! Now I get what namaste means! Yeah, yeah, I’d always known what it meant, but now I experience it in my being.
I have used many words to suggest what is divine in my life: Presence, the Mystery, Buddhamind, Spirit, Being, Ground of Being, Life, Chi, Love. They allude to what I mean; they can only suggest. Just as the a photo of the moon is not the moon, a word is not the thing it references. Something as multi-faceted as the Universe can be explored through science, math, literature, and art, but it cannot be totally integrated by the human mind. So we need shorthand, a word or a number, like X, to represent the holy mystery of All That Exists and our relationship with it. Lately, that “something” is the word God. So, God it is.
Easter
This captures the essence of spiritual life for me.
Haunting
This song by Hozier is gorgeous, poetic, and haunting to me. Take a listen (click here if the embed doesn’t work).
Reverence
What is real for me in this moment: life feels bittersweet. It’s October again. Soon it’s Christmas. It’s “Where did the time go?” Then it’s a new year, and the school year ends, and summer vacation evaporates, school begins again, and then: another new year. Life is like this, every year. I recognize this, every year. I remember this conversation with myself from last year. The older I get, the more time compresses.
I practice presence — living here and now — and I’ve gotten pretty adept. Compared to the me I was in my 20s, 30s, and 40s, I focus less on past rumination and future anxiety. But that doesn’t make the time pass more slowly. It doesn’t change the fact that this life is such a short stint.
Yes, there’s Presence. The intangible subtle Mystery to which we are connected, from which we arise and to which return. It is possible to notice and experience this daily. Sometimes I even live within and from it — from a knowing that defies description or understanding with the mind.
But lately I’ve been noticing: I like this current incarnation. I like being in this body, living this life. It is precious. Yet it all changes. And there is grief.
I found a photo of myself when I was seven months old. I look into that sweet baby’s face and feel such love for her. Her softness, her open expression. Her innocence. I look at my daughter, a lovely soul, and remember the delicious intimacy of holding her.
Life is doing what it does. I’m so grateful that I am, that I’ve gotten to be this person. It’s just passing so quickly.
How to Love
This video was played at church Sunday for the kids. While it seems sad, it provided a seed for discussion. We watched it again this morning. Bean’s thoughts about what the squid could do: “Stroke the boats, like a cat. Or find submarines to hang out with.” We talked about how you don’t have to possess someone to love her; if we hold too tight we hurt the person’s spirit and destroy the love. Being NEXT TO someone is not the same as being alone.
The Dark Path to Enlightenment
“We seldom go freely into the belly of the beast. Unless we face a major disaster like the death of a friend or spouse or loss of a marriage or job, we usually will not go there. As a culture, we have to be taught the language of descent. That is the great language of religion. It teaches us to enter willingly, trustingly into the dark periods of life. These dark periods are good teachers. Religious energy is in the dark questions, seldom in the answers. Answers are the way out, but that is not what we are here for. But when we look at the questions, we look for the opening to transformation. Fixing something doesn’t usually transform us. We try to change events in order to avoid changing ourselves. We must learn to stay with the pain of life, without answers, without conclusions, and some days without meaning. That is the path, the perilous dark path of true prayer.”
—Richard Rohr, Everything Belongs: The Gift of Contemplative Prayer
Open Wide to Love
My OA sponsor wrote and asked me how I’m doing, and am I tracking my food intake as I’d intended. I wrote her back, but I’m putting it “out there” as well.
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I began tracking my food after we met using an app on my phone. Then I stopped when I realized it required entering meals right away — there’s no way to go back and do it later. I understand why — to induce awareness. So in short, no.
And then, on Monday, I went to Target in the evening to get toothpaste and hair ties. When I set foot in the store, I KNEW I was going to buy some Easter candy. I was keenly aware of this part of myself, and the aware part of myself was saying, “Really? Come on! Let’s not.” But the primal part carried out the acquisition. I sat in the car, eating two Reeses’ eggs and a 5 oz. chocolate bunny. And none of it even TASTED good. There was no enjoyment. There was just the impulse to finish. I didn’t reach out to you or Hub. I didn’t tell Hub. I threw away the trash. Note to self: maybe it would be good to avoid Target at night, though it didn’t used to be a problem. Then again, there’s more to this — it’s not just about Target.
So I was meeting with my friend Sofia (who is a spiritual facilitator) Tuesday and explored this. Here’s what I noticed: I go through life unconsciously with tight stomach muscles, as if I’m holding myself together. When I realize this and relax, I feel the expansion and pressure on my clothing. It feels a little bit freeing, and also out of control. So I’ve just practiced noticing and relaxing, being curious over how it feels to be “all out there.” Because the deeper wisdom in me sees that being obese is a form of protection. I am afraid of my power. I have the power, and it takes about 50 extra pounds to quell it.
Right now I’m not prodding myself with “why?” Why? What am I afraid of? Hell, as if knowing in my mind I could transform and fix it. Instead, I’m meeting that part of myself. Instead of power struggle, it feels like an invitation. “I see that you’re afraid. May I just keep you company?” And if Primal Me wants to eat something that Wisdom realizes my body doesn’t need, then Wisdom is connecting with Primal Me where she’s at. Wisdom isn’t completely silent. She says, “I see you’re pouring a bowl of Raisin Bran and adding walnuts. Are you hungry?” Primal Me says, “I just WANT it. And I WILL HAVE IT.” Wisdom says, “Okay, you take care of yourself. I’m here if you want or need me.”
On one hand this looks like a recipe (hah!) for condoning destructive behavior. But it FEELS different. There’s a very young part of me — Primal Me — that has urges, needs, wants, and doesn’t know how to get them met except by consuming. I’ve judged her, deprived her of love and attention, for decades. Gaining her trust and helping her heal will probably take more time than my ego would like. But Wisdom knows that’s how true healing occurs. And in fact, I have been healing for the past couple of years. It started with Honesty Salons, and Ecstatic Dance. In the past year I’ve lived increasingly through intuition, working with Sofia. Then I took the SoulCollage® facilitator training, and committed to a spiritual community at the Los Gatos UU Fellowship. I’m in therapy (since December), and have met you.
So it’s happening. And yes, I would like to weigh less and move more, with power and strength. My body hurts. I worry how the weight compromises my abilities and health; I worry about the message I’m giving my daughter. But apparently Ego can’t force this. It’s a process beyond “me” and yet I’m part of it. Does this make sense?
I am one who is small and frightened, who needs protection. I am one who wanted protection. I am one who wants an all-present Mother, who wants tenderness.
Baby Steps
You’d think that having support from my minister, my therapist, my Zen teacher, my OA sponsor, and my personal coach, I’d be pretty damn enlightened, but no. Spiritual awakening is a process of realizing how unconscious I am much of the time. Each of these people accompany me through different facets of evolution.
This morning Bean got angry at herself and a toy she was playing with, a teeny dish cupboard with even teenier dishes and utensils that wouldn’t stay put. It happened yesterday too. Her anger feels intense and out of proportion to the problem (and it’s been this way for a number of days). In my very sleepy morning state I said to her, “Why don’t you choose something else to play with?” She replied plaintively and angrily, “Why do you always want me to QUIT?”
Yikes! I took a breath, and then another. And then I replied, “I don’t want you to quit but I can see how it sounds like that. I was feeling triggered by your response to the situation and it made me feel anxious. Lately you’ve had a lot of anger. My self-talk is that I must be doing something wrong with you and I get uncomfortable. I try to take away that discomfort by redirecting you.”
She was quiet awhile and played. Then she said, “I figured out a different way to use the dishes.” Then I announced breakfast, and she came willingly and cheerfully. The energy within and between us had shifted, and then we had peace.
As a result of this interaction, I’m a smidge more aware of my story about how Bean shouldn’t be angry, how ungrateful she is to be angry (because she has such a wonderful life), about how her intense angry responses suggest something wrong with her or me, and how I’m leaving both of us when I live in that story. And THAT is enlightenment.
Clarity
“There are moments when a kind of clarity comes over you, and suddenly you can see through walls to another dimension that you’d forgotten or chosen to ignore in order to continue living with the various illusions that make life, particularly life with other people, possible.”
– Nicole Krauss
Which?
Keiji, a long-time Zen student, approached his master and said: “I don’t see how there can be any enlightenment that sets you free once and for all. I think we just get ever greater glimpses of Buddha-nature, the vastness that is our true Reality. It’s an ever-expanding process.”
The master replied, “That may be what you think. But what is your experience, your experience right now?”
Keiji was confused, “My experience right now, Master?”
“Yes. Do you know yourself as Keiji, having ever-expanding experiences of Buddha-nature? Or do you know yourself as Buddha-nature, having the experience of Keiji?
Flow
A whole month passed without a post, though I’d thought about it. I’ve been immersed in some personal work and stepping out into new areas that feel exciting. The depression has abated. I feel a need to write but am doing so with interruptions by my little girl and husband every so many minutes, so this post will be less polished.
We’ve been camping twice and will go again soon for the last summer trip. In June we went to Pfeiffer Big Sur, and in July we camped at Prairie Creek Redwoods. Our next trip is to Calaveras Big Trees. We like big trees and rivers a lot, and we like the ocean some. Camping is uncomfortable and requires more work, but it’s also relaxing and restful. My body aches in the morning from the less-than-ideal sleeping arrangement, but the peace I feel compensates. I am bathed in Being, in nature, in the Mystery; living outdoors brings complete contact with the world that creates itself.
After exploring the Quaker Society of Friends, I talked with Hub about where I’m at and what Bean wants. She wants to go to church. Hub was raised Unitarian Universalist and I attended as one years ago. It’s the best fit as far as spiritual community goes. Bean loved it the first time we visited two years ago. The Quaker group only had children’s program once a month, and unfortunately the one time I brought her no one else with children came, and there was no program. I realized, too, that I need and enjoy the ritual of a service. The Quaker service was traditional silent meeting with socializing after. The UU service includes the usual ingredients of a service: hymns, readings, sharing of joys and concerns, a sermon. Hub isn’t a seeker and doesn’t have the same community needs, but we came to the conclusion that the UU church is good for me and Bean. I attended the UU Fellowship in Los Gatos the past two weeks; both Bean and I enjoyed it, and the members are very welcoming.
I had a pilot zazen session on the first Saturday in July. I got cold feet and cancelled on the one person who’d signed up; then another friend last minute showed up. As I set up the small altar on my coffee table, it felt right, like putting on a perfectly fitting outfit. I also reached agreement with Hub that I will go to Hazy Moon Zen Center a couple times a year to attend sesshin and meet with my teacher.
I’ve continued attending salons called Intimacy With Truth, led by a dear friend. They occur in a format similar to Honesty Salons but move into deeper exploration within and between ourselves. I’m learning to listen to, trust, and speak from my intuition and truth. I’m also sitting with the idea of becoming trained to facilitate Honesty Salons or becoming a Getting Real Coach with Dr. Campbell.
I’m re-reading and incorporating the practice that Eckhart Tolle’s books explore. One thing I appreciate about his work is that he echoes my favorite quote, a koan I have cherished for years:
The secret is within your self. – Hui-Neng
Tolle claims that he’s not teaching anything that we don’t already have within us. His work is guidance to excavating it.
In conjunction, I’ve started to explore the process of healing offered by Al-Anon meetings.
After years of thinking about it, I attended a mixed-media collage Meetup at Lori Krein Studios. I immersed myself in the process and enjoyed it, as well as enjoyed the other people who attended. I’ll be going back.
This encounter with collage at the studio prompted me to rearrange my art supplies so they are stored in the same room as my work desk. Proximity will probably inspire more play!
I gathered my many small pieces of art into a binder, and I was astonished at the variety and amount. Seeing them all together gave me a surge of excitement to make more. A friend has suggested I have my own art show at home; I’m not ready to do that yet, but I’m ready to show and share from the binder.
I enrolled in a November training to learn a process called SoulCollage and to facilitate in groups. SoulCollage is a creative, meditative process of exploring one’s inner wisdom in all the ways it manifests. It’s rooted in Jungian psychology.
I’ve emphasized boundaries in certain relationships by limiting what I can listen to and discuss. The immersion in repeated stories about the problems of people I love when I cannot do anything to help was contributing to the depression.
Lastly, I’m contemplating becoming a volunteer at a hospice. For many years (since the mid-1990s) I’ve felt a pull toward it, and in 2004 I took steps in a parallel direction by training to provide grief support to survivors. It was the Centre for Living With Dying. However, my father-in-law was dying of cancer at the time, and I just didn’t have the energy to serve. Since that time the Centre was bought by another social service provider, and it seems they don’t use volunteers any more. But hospice does.
The call to hospice coincides with the sad news that a friend — Jen Bulik-Lang — who is only 35 is dying of stage-IV lung cancer. She began feeling ill in October 2012, and it took awhile for professionals to come to the correct diagnosis at the end of January 2013. She’d been shopping in December for engagement rings with her boyfriend, Jeffrey Lang. She got aggressive treatment, and there was hope they eradicated it, but in mid-June she received news it had metastasized to her spinal fluid. My insides quicken with grief and love as I watch her live with this news. She chose to celebrate life, and she and Jeff got married in a marvelous wedding. I admire Jen for embracing what is and fully experiencing it as a transformation with the faith, as she says, “that [it] will benefit the highest good for all those concerned.”
So in all, the shift in my life is toward community and participating in healing myself, others, and the world. As I wrote that last sentence my self-talk was, “Boy, that sounds lofty and new-Agey, and grandiose.” And yet… The world is broken and insane and aches for love.
Sometimes a Retreat is an Advance
I’d sunk into a swamp of depression. Why bother going? It was only overnight. I cancelled, one day too late to get a refund. So I went.
Nearly there, I found the road blocked. The tunnel said “Under construction.” What next? Go back home? Try to find another way and arrive late? No and no.
So I broke rules. I drove around the barricade and through the tunnel. There was no ditch to fall into, no rubble to hit. I arrived. I showed up.
Teacher saw me and leaped with joy – literally! She hugged me, and I began to cry. Twenty of us sat in slience; we walked in silence. Zazen is painful drudgery. But the tears subsided.
I sat. I counted my breaths. I walked. I ate. I slept. I met privately with my teacher.
Sick of being mom, managing my child? Then be an easy mother!
Lonely? Get out of the Internet echo chamber. Talk to a person.
Bored? Reflect on what resonates; listen for my voice.
Scared about new responsibility? Just show up. Do the next task.
Stop hiding in the house. The world is right here and now.
Later, walking on the beach alone, I found rusty rose starfish washed ashore. It fit the palm of my hand. It was alive! Waiting for a return ride on the tide.
Hello, friend.
I looked up. Saw a man. Decided this discovery was too good to keep to myself. So I went up to him and shared. And he smiled and marveled. And then I did it again, with a woman jogging. And again, with another woman!
Their eyes widened, awakened. They smiled with the joy of the encounter.
Hello, friend.
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Words swept from my mind
Scatter like moths in the wind
Wave meets rock meets wave
The Merit of Practice
One of my teachers in Zen is Karen Maezen Miller, whom I have known for seven years; I have visited her, and she guided me through my first sesshin. However, her sangha is located in Los Angeles, which is over 300 miles away. So it hasn’t been entirely practical to attempt to join or practice there. I visited two sanghas locally and they did not resonate with me, nor did the senseis. This is not a comment about them, just about the fact that the connection between student and teacher is important and I did not feel the aliveness that signals it for me. There is one sangha I had not visited. I allowed my practice to languish for over a year instead.
For a long time I’ve lurked on the Floating Zendo‘s website, read their blog, learned about their teacher, Enji Angie Boissevain, and listened to her talks. I have used the excuse that getting to the weekly zazen at 6:30 p.m. on Tuesdays is just too hard to arrange (childcare, Hub’s work). This morning I went to the half-day sit they have monthly.
It’s located at the Quaker Friends House in San Jose. I was greeted warmly, and while there was an altar, the arrangement was very simple. The rituals and service were simple. The three sessions of zazen (40 minutes each) were simple but hard for me to do. After zazen, the teacher gave a short talk.
She told about a story Hui-neng wrote about Bodhidharma visiting Emperor Wu. Before I go on, I feel it significant to mention that many years ago — back in 1998– I came across a quote by Hui-neng that landed in my heart and set up home, so much so that it has become my standard “email signature quote” and the “about me” quote I use when joining social media sites. It became a mantra and koan to me even before I knew what those words meant, and it has been a touchstone for me. That quote:
The secret is within your self.
–Hui-neng
Back to the teacher’s talk (which I am writing from memory and may have paraphrased a bit, but the dharma is there). Emperor Wu had worked hard to help spread Buddhism, having temples and monasteries built, ordaining monks and copying sutras. He asked Bodhidharma how much merit he had earned. Bodhidharma replied, “No merit.”
Enji Roshi reflected that what Wu had done had generated blessings, both received and given, but merit is entirely different.
I was puzzled. Isn’t it misguided to care about merit? Isn’t that motivated by ego? So I asked, “What is merit? And why would a person want to accrue merit if the point of practice is to become free of the ego?”
Her reply: “But that isn’t the point of practice. There is no ego. And merit is the connection that practice creates, the connection with others and life.” Her answer felt like a splash of water in the face; she had pointed out an assumption I’d made about merit and practice. She asked me if I understood, and I replied that I did, but that I understood it more in my heart than mind. I said it made me feel emotional and thanked her for answering my question. Then as I sat there, listening to her answer someone else’s question, tears welled up and over. I understood the connection because it radiated through her — into and through me. This felt like home.
Maezen is still my teacher, yet Maezen has stressed the critical importance of face-to-face encounters with one’s teacher. For my practice to thrive, I understand that I need a local teacher. Roshi and I talked awhile after people departed, and I experienced the sense that I have met my teacher. I will be returning to Floating Zendo.
Here the viewer does not see the sky but sees the reflection which can lead the viewer to it. A teacher is not enlightenment but a signpost pointing the way toward it.
Zazen
Zazen
On the black cushion
a stone sinking and floating
into the dark light.
–Kathryn Harper
Where You Stand
Accept indeterminacy as a principle, and you see your life in a new light, as a series of seemingly unrelated jewel-like stories within a dazzling setting of change and transformation. Recognize that you don’t know where you stand, and you will begin to watch where you put your feet. That’s when the path appears.
-John Cage
