When things get difficult in my life, my conditioned experience feels like a contraction. I can't even begin to get into how natural and seductive that conditioning feels. However, this past week, a practice resurfaced in my life that has really helped reverse that contraction.
Meta practice is a practice of directed intention. It is employed in different ways, but essentially, it takes a target and offers the intention that they may be safe, healthy, happy and at ease/peace. For all beings, it would look like this...
May all beings be safe.
May all beings be healthy.
May all beings be happy.
May all beings be at peace.
It is simple. It can be directed at anyone, although I will admit that it is often more difficult to do Meta for those who try my patience. Regardless, I find great nourishment in turning my desire toward the well being of others.
This is similar to the practice of praying for others. My tradition as a Catholic practices this informally and formally (in the prayers of the faithful / intercession). What I like about Meta practice is its progression from safety, to health, to happiness and finally on to peace.
Having taught History and Social Science for over a decade, I am big fan of Maslow's Heirarchy of Needs. In short it is a theory that states that human needs are prioritized in an order that begins with survival, moves on to safety, a few others, and finally ends with self-actualization. Although it is not always the case, I have found the heirachy to be true. It also suggests that in an aspect of our lives, a need must be met before we can consider the next need to be a priority. This can be seen in early industrial cities where workers would accept very unsafe working conditions because failure to do so, all but ensured starvation for them and their family.
Seeking and intending for all beings to be safe, healthy, happy and at ease is fundamentally identical to our own actualization. Seeing this brings a greater clarity to the impossible vows of the Bodhisattva.
Beings are numbers, I vow to free them.
Delusions are inexhautable, I vow to end them.
Dharma gates are endless, I vow to enter them.
The Buddha Way is unattainable, I vow to embody it.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Practicing My Body
Today, for the 22nd time in my life, I donated blood. I have been doing this for a number of years as a practice of gratitude for the blood that sustained my father through various open heart surgeries and other proceedures for the 20+ years he survived following the first of several heart attacks.
My pulse has always been good but over the last 15 years my blood pressure has slowly climbed into the pre-hypertension range. The fact that I am overweight does not help either. I am fairly active and I have lost weight in the past from both deliberate effort and as the byproduct of running for competition and health.
Today, like many adults in the West, I find myself knowing that I need to change something for the good of my own health and for the good of those who rely on me. And like many others, I know this would have been a wiser idea 10 years ago.
However, I don't intend to diet to that purpose nor exercise to that purpose.
What I am encountering today is an overwhelming feeling of the need to practice my body. The need to practice my health.
I don't know how explain why this is different, but it is. The physical things that need to be done are obvious, regardless of the motivation. I need to eat better and be more active. What I can identify as different is the source that this feeling comes from. It comes from practice.
There has been a notable shift in my practice since I took the precepts with the Toledo Zen Center last winter. The practice and my life are increasingly expressing as one continuous thing. Taking better care of myself is a natural extension of this.
Most of my poor dietary choices grow out of laziness and mindless reaction to situations. Social eating is a good example. The seeking of comfort food is another ingrained trap. The shift starts not with form, but with intent. It begins with the intention to manifest the mindfulness of practice more fully and skillfully to the way I use and care for my body.
When I last lost 30 pounds, I did it "to lose weight". When I took up running, it was for competition and general health. These are fine motivations, but what seems to be emerging for me now is more integrated. Rather than being something that I do, it is more "me".
There is research to be done and preparations to be made, but the work is in the moment to moment mindfullness that envelopes this life.
I am not sure how it will unfold, or the form it will take, but it is like a crying child in the corner of the room. It needs attention, effort and compassion.
My pulse has always been good but over the last 15 years my blood pressure has slowly climbed into the pre-hypertension range. The fact that I am overweight does not help either. I am fairly active and I have lost weight in the past from both deliberate effort and as the byproduct of running for competition and health.
Today, like many adults in the West, I find myself knowing that I need to change something for the good of my own health and for the good of those who rely on me. And like many others, I know this would have been a wiser idea 10 years ago.
However, I don't intend to diet to that purpose nor exercise to that purpose.
What I am encountering today is an overwhelming feeling of the need to practice my body. The need to practice my health.
I don't know how explain why this is different, but it is. The physical things that need to be done are obvious, regardless of the motivation. I need to eat better and be more active. What I can identify as different is the source that this feeling comes from. It comes from practice.
There has been a notable shift in my practice since I took the precepts with the Toledo Zen Center last winter. The practice and my life are increasingly expressing as one continuous thing. Taking better care of myself is a natural extension of this.
Most of my poor dietary choices grow out of laziness and mindless reaction to situations. Social eating is a good example. The seeking of comfort food is another ingrained trap. The shift starts not with form, but with intent. It begins with the intention to manifest the mindfulness of practice more fully and skillfully to the way I use and care for my body.
When I last lost 30 pounds, I did it "to lose weight". When I took up running, it was for competition and general health. These are fine motivations, but what seems to be emerging for me now is more integrated. Rather than being something that I do, it is more "me".
There is research to be done and preparations to be made, but the work is in the moment to moment mindfullness that envelopes this life.
I am not sure how it will unfold, or the form it will take, but it is like a crying child in the corner of the room. It needs attention, effort and compassion.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Strength in Number
No, the title is not a typo.
There are times when I catch myself thinking far too much about this practice. Not in an obsessive way, but rather, I catch myself thinking too much about an experience, trying to make something of it. Sure enough I catch myself eventually, and these days I seem to be striking a more natural balance between the work the mind needs to do in daily life, and the ability to be present to the raw, unfiltered experience of life.
Late last week, I had an experience that was very lightening to my spirit. I refrained from focussing on it too much at first, because I did not want to crush it with the weight of the story. However, I would like to share it. It is short and seemingly unspectacular.
Driving home from Aikido last week I was listening to a podcast about the 4 Noble Truths. I had been under a lot of stress lately. There were things that were happening at work, an impending test at Aikido, and concerns that I needed to be doing more at home. Again, nothing spectacular, but I had developed a heavy feeling, wondering when it was going to end. Then at some point, a forgotten line about the noble truth of suffering triggered it.
"No one is going to release me from this. I am on my own". Yup, that's it. It was not so much an articulated thought but an experience. As a thought, the words seem a bit depressing, but the experience did not feel that way. In the experience, there was a release of tension. With no one to "get me out of this", there was the simultaneous realization that I was not helpless. Instantly the light of ridiculousness was shone on any expectation I had that others were supposed to swoop in and make it okay. Again, what happened did not emerge so much as an articulated thought, but an experience. Putting it into words is making it dead and lifeless, but the experience was lively and freeing.
There are times when I catch myself thinking far too much about this practice. Not in an obsessive way, but rather, I catch myself thinking too much about an experience, trying to make something of it. Sure enough I catch myself eventually, and these days I seem to be striking a more natural balance between the work the mind needs to do in daily life, and the ability to be present to the raw, unfiltered experience of life.
Late last week, I had an experience that was very lightening to my spirit. I refrained from focussing on it too much at first, because I did not want to crush it with the weight of the story. However, I would like to share it. It is short and seemingly unspectacular.
Driving home from Aikido last week I was listening to a podcast about the 4 Noble Truths. I had been under a lot of stress lately. There were things that were happening at work, an impending test at Aikido, and concerns that I needed to be doing more at home. Again, nothing spectacular, but I had developed a heavy feeling, wondering when it was going to end. Then at some point, a forgotten line about the noble truth of suffering triggered it.
"No one is going to release me from this. I am on my own". Yup, that's it. It was not so much an articulated thought but an experience. As a thought, the words seem a bit depressing, but the experience did not feel that way. In the experience, there was a release of tension. With no one to "get me out of this", there was the simultaneous realization that I was not helpless. Instantly the light of ridiculousness was shone on any expectation I had that others were supposed to swoop in and make it okay. Again, what happened did not emerge so much as an articulated thought, but an experience. Putting it into words is making it dead and lifeless, but the experience was lively and freeing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)