Standing

I have often heard that one of the jobs of the Zen teacher is to pull out the rug from under the student's feet,  help them up, and then pull it out again and again until the student  does not fall anymore.

The student learns to stand on their own two feet.  Stable and solid.

Lately I have become increasingly aware of those places where I am not standing on my own two feet.  Specifically, those times when I am deliberately trying to lean on others in order to stand.

I am not talking about the supports that an ordinary human being needs.  We are, by nature, social.  We work together and operate in various groups and achieve more than we could on our own.  What I am seeing are those places in which my sense of stability, success and authenticity are dependent on validation from other people.

For me, I notice it out of the corner of my mind.  At first awareness it seems like a subtle coating to moment.  When my attention turns to it, I can see the gateway into all of my fears and insecurities.

I have stood at this gate before.  Many times actually.  I generally find a quick reason to run the other way. A distraction or something big and pleasurable.

This time however, I think I will walk through that gate and stroll down its path.  It is lined with things that are uncomfortable.  But they aren't really scary.  How could they be?  They are familiar, like old friends.  They have been with me my entire life.

Putting Aside the Button.

Today was good.

Things did not necessarily go good.

Things were not really bad.

It was just... good.

I had a moment that really anchored the day, though it happened late.  I found myself in the presence of one of my greatest conditioned responses.  I felt "OMG! here we go again" arise.  I felt my body begin to move to leave.  Then I stopped.

A small voice "what is the big deal?  Do you really need to run away from this?".  So I settled in, tuned in , listened and engaged.

Nothing happened to changed the trigger mechanism.  The pushing element continued.  I just put aside the button.

The moment and reality that I thought I "knew" so well were transformed, from the only place that it could be.  It shifted, because I shifted.

The moment, in one sense was exactly what it had always been.  But in the sense that I experience it was transformed.  Simply, subtly, profoundly.

It was a good day.

Cold Hell

What stops you? Deep down, do you know your achilles heel? It might not be so obvious. When you see it, really see it, you recognize it right away. You might even feel foolish for not really recognizing its presence there all along. Maybe you saw it all along, but didn't know its name.

I have seen mine. To put it into word, it is expectations. Yours. Who you think I should be and what you think I should do. Depending on who you are, your expectations might be a big obstacle for me. You might be the person whose expectations of me are easy for me to get over.

When this comes up strong, it is a cold hell. I am frozen, unable to move. It passes, but the odds are I missed an important moment to act during that time.

I can tell myself that I am trying to avoid being rash. It's true, but it can also be a copout.

I can tell myself that I am trying to avoid being a jerk. It's true, but it can also be a copout.

Standing on the edge and desperately wanting to act.

Act.

act.

Helping Haiti

The Vlogbrothers are 2 of my favourite people on Youtube. They don't come from any religious direction and they are not an organization themselves per se, but they are made of awesome, and they do help to reduce world suck. In Dharma speak, they practice good and avoid evil.

TZC

March Break affords much freedom, and this week, Julie and I took some for ourselves.  While our parents each took one of the girls, we went to Toledo do do some shopping, spend sometime alone together, and visit the Toledo Zen Center.

This is my immediate sangha, 2 hours and one nation away.  Over the years that I have been going down to there, it has changed from a arduous adventure, to a quick little jaunt.  I attribute this partially to familiarity, but mostly to the increased importance of Sangha in my life.

Touching in with people who practice always has a nourishing affect on me.

I am still the one who needs to sit, work with anger and difficult people, be mindful of the precepts and practice compassion to all beings.  (No one can take my naps for me ;) )

Despite all of this, it remains important to me to connect with other practitioners.  It helps me keep my arrow pointing north.  It helps me to not get lost.  It helps me to not get overwhelmed.

It improves my practice.

In Kinhin, we take the focus cultivated in Zazen and put it into motion.  We endeavour to develop a working samadhi that functions in all actions.

In the Sangha we engage others with the mind of practice.  Others who also practice, and support us.  We endeavour to manifest the same compassion and fresh mind when we meet the rest of world.

When I can't be there, I still have other supports.  My wife, the TZC forum (toledozencenter.org) and the podcasts (thedrinkinggourd.org) are big helps.  But being able to maintain a sense of a larger community of practice feeds my spirit.

I take refuge in the sangha.

Lent and Ango

Today is very important day for Roman Catholics around the world.  We are on the eve of Lent, the period of preparation for Easter.  For most of my life in the Church, I never gave Lent more than passing attention.  Most of what I gave up was for dietary and life style reasons, and WHAT I gave up was fairly insignificant (such as chocolate).  On top of that, I had never been able to keep these tiny sacrifices.  I never really understood why.

In the end, I realized that I what I tried to do in Lent was for myself, and in the grand scheme of the universe, that motivation didn't cut it.

A number of years ago, largely out of frustration with a lifetime of failed Lenten sacrifices, I decided to give up something that would be hard to casually forget.  I gave up all meat and alcohol.  This was made more difficult by the fact that there was no one around me sharing in this particular package of self denial.  However, something shifted during that lent.

The extent of the inconvenience continuously brought me back to the question of why I was doing it.  It drew my mind back to the purpose of Lent as a time to prepare yourself to receive, accept and embrace the redemption that was brought to humanity in Christ's death and resurrection.  Now that particular spiritual message may not be what floats your boat, but it helped me better understand the experience of spiritual preparation or seasonal training.  All traditions have it, whether it is Lent, Ramadan or Ango.

Ango is a period of intensified practice in Zen Buddhism that dates back to much earlier times.  Ancient monks would spend much of their time on pilgrimage, but in the rainy seasons they would gather together and practice.  Various groups practice this in North America, albeit in a modified form.  Since I don't live close to a community that engages in Ango, I have had a hard time paralleling the experience.

So this year, I am making a vow to a personal Lenten / Ango schedule.  In addition to my Lenten observances this year, I am making a vow to sit more regularly.  The primary form of this is to begin each weekday with Zazen.  I have set out to increase the frequency of my sitting at different times in the last 12 years, with varying degrees of success.  However, these past years of Lenten practice have helped me to clarify my understanding of this time of seasonal preparatory training.

The Lenten portion will take me to the last weekend of April, but my vow is to maintain this practice for 90 days, which will take me into June.  I won't explain what I plan for the traditional Catholic Lenten practice.  A priest who used to be in my parish always emphasized the value of keeping such things close to the chest, and that it was more important to DO something, as most motivations for giving up things in Lent tend to be self serving.

The goal is to deepen my practice, and in doing so, become more skilled in seeing each moment of my life as practice. 

Zazen, prayer, art practice, sesshin, cooking, bedtime stories, helping with homework, patience when it is called for, directness when it is called for.  As I continue to ask myself what the practices of this period are, my entire life comes up in answer.  

As the dark of winter begins to show the hints of the rising spring, I wish upon all that they find the renewal and growth of the season to be mirrored in their own lives.

Bows.

The Texture of Life

It seems that through most of my life I have looked at this existence as a journey of joy and "meh".  The tragedies that came along, though not really avoidable we things that derailed that path.  They brought sadness and gloom, and generally made life feel like it had slowed down or stopped for a time.

I imagine that it would be just as easy to see life as a journey of pain and disappointment, from which joyful moments occasionally provide distraction.  This sounds like the outlook of the pessimist, or the clinically depressed.  The problem I find with these models, is that they both focus intently on one aspect of life, while pushing away the other as though it was extra, or flawed.

 But what about a perspective or sense of a life that does not see these things as "other"?

The pattern of unhappy events is not constant, and it seems to be on the up-swing lately in my life.  Friends have died of cancer and of their own hand.  Some young children I know have been very ill.  Divorce and separation have shook the lives of people I care for in just about any direction I look.  Family members are confronted with the limitations of diseases and conditions that will end their lives sooner than expected.

In all of this I can feel different conditioned responses vying for my attention.

Life sucks dude.  The only things you can rely on are death and taxes


or

you just have keep your chin up and look at the silver lining.


These reactions fit the world very well.  Just about anyone I might turn to in these moments would offer me some version of this.  But what if there was a different way to see?

What if a heart could be so big as to hold the moment in which I read to my daughter before bed AND the sorrow I feel at the loss my friends Keith and Dale?

What would it be like to have an awareness that could perceive the suffering, joy, and "meh" of each moment, meeting it fully, accepting it all, turning away from nothing?

I still must be very mindful to avoid letting the condition responses rule the day.  However, when I approach this seeing, I am struck dumb by the fullness of life's texture and the magnitude of it's beauty.