One of the worst things about the internet, is anyone can put up anything. One of the best things about the internet is ANYBODY CAN PUT UP ANYTHING. This is the case with Project for awesome. It is not about any one thing. It is a collection of Youtuber's who make a special attempt, once a year to draw extra attention to causes and charities that make the world a better place.
This past week, I had an absolutely horrible time at work. Probably the most stressful week of my career. But, I got through it. I got through it largely because I was able to keep from completely turning inward and focussing only on myself. I reach out to help others who needed me and it made me very bouyant in difficult times.
That is basically what project for awesome is about. We connect with others who care to help others who need it. John Green of the Vlog Brotehrs put it wonderfully...
"As humans we have a bad habit of imagining that people who live far away from us or in different circumstances from us as fundamentally other. "
Things like P4a and Youtube (when harnessed appropriately) can help us make the connection to that far off strange person that makes them more my brother or sister, and less of a distant other.
Here is my contribution to p4a. Lord knows I am not an A1 Youtuber, but the hope is that it helps.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
The Whirlpool
One of the great challenges I find in this practice is maintaining a ceaseless willingness to encounter and address my own conditioning. This is coming up a lot lately, largely due to the amount of suffering I am encountering. It takes many forms: the death of a friend, the stresses of the holidays, difficult people, etc. In all of these there is a familiar and seductive layer of conditioning that I am trying to work with.
All encounters involve people with a particular story or agenda. When that comes to bear in an angry or painful way, it can be difficult to not to get pulled into the story and the drama. When that happens, being fully present and open to these moments seems impossible. (make the slightest distinction and heaven and earth are set infinitely apart).
The reaction might be anger, or gossip, but when the story is spun, we can get caught in the fabric, and make it our own. From within that fabric, we can see nothing but what we are weaving that moment. To take in the entire fabric and the environment is to see in context of the whole. As I develop the ability to realease the conditioned story (to which I may feel VERY entitled too), I believe I am starting to understand what it means to "forget the self".
All encounters involve people with a particular story or agenda. When that comes to bear in an angry or painful way, it can be difficult to not to get pulled into the story and the drama. When that happens, being fully present and open to these moments seems impossible. (make the slightest distinction and heaven and earth are set infinitely apart).
The reaction might be anger, or gossip, but when the story is spun, we can get caught in the fabric, and make it our own. From within that fabric, we can see nothing but what we are weaving that moment. To take in the entire fabric and the environment is to see in context of the whole. As I develop the ability to realease the conditioned story (to which I may feel VERY entitled too), I believe I am starting to understand what it means to "forget the self".
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Outward
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.
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 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.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Searching for Stillness in Activity
This fall is the busiest that I have had in a very long time. There a lot of exciting things going on. A Nidan test, a new season for card nights, starting up the meditation group, the kids starting a new school, and a last minute decision to coach tennis are added in to one of the more stressful school years I have encountered. And while I don't feel as thought I am exhausted or at the end of my rope, I do find things difficult.
Although the things that seem to make all of this difficult are external circumstances, what is really "making it difficult" is coming from within. At times I feel simultaneously pulled out of my center and extremely self-focused. After all aren't "I" the one who is experiencing this difficulty? Am I creating it?
I can feel myself tightening up and pulling in and even lashing out. In these moments I need to turn, very deliberately to my practice. I can sense the need to reach outward to those that I encounter, and in doing so, find my center.
Time to sit.
from the Pang family...
The Layman was sitting in his thatched cottage one day [studying the sūtras]. "Difficult, difficult," he said; "like trying to scatter ten measures of sesame seed all over a tree." "Easy, easy," Mrs. Pang said; "like touching your feet to the ground when you get out of bed." "Neither difficult nor easy," Ling Zhao said; "on the hundred grass tips, the great Masters' meaning."[1]
Although the things that seem to make all of this difficult are external circumstances, what is really "making it difficult" is coming from within. At times I feel simultaneously pulled out of my center and extremely self-focused. After all aren't "I" the one who is experiencing this difficulty? Am I creating it?
I can feel myself tightening up and pulling in and even lashing out. In these moments I need to turn, very deliberately to my practice. I can sense the need to reach outward to those that I encounter, and in doing so, find my center.
Time to sit.
from the Pang family...
The Layman was sitting in his thatched cottage one day [studying the sūtras]. "Difficult, difficult," he said; "like trying to scatter ten measures of sesame seed all over a tree." "Easy, easy," Mrs. Pang said; "like touching your feet to the ground when you get out of bed." "Neither difficult nor easy," Ling Zhao said; "on the hundred grass tips, the great Masters' meaning."[1]
Thursday, October 7, 2010
A Face Full of Ch'an
From Master Seng Ts'an:
The Great Way is not difficult
for those who have no preferences.
When love and hate are both absent
everything becomes clear and undisguised.
Make the smallest distinction, however,
and heaven and earth are set infinitely apart.
There is an enormous difference between hearing about a thing, and experiencing it. Although I have heard this passage from the "Faith Mind Poem" of Master Seng Ts'an before, this past week I experienced it in a powerful way.
There is more depth and texture to this short passage (of a much larger poem) than I understand. However, the aspect I encountered was how far apart strong practice and poisoned practice can feel. In Zen, we hear about the three poisons; greed, anger and ignorance. These are the sources of suffering. This past week, I ran into all three.
Coming into this past week, I felt very good. Challenges were met, things were perfect in their imperfections, and life unfolded in its own way. And then I had a "bad" day. The day itself was pretty stressful. Not the worst I have ever had, but it was rough. What made it "bad" was how I tightened up. I internalized the difficulties of the moment, and began to weave stories. The story of how I was a schmuck. The story of how others had failed me. The story of how I was hard done-by. In some form, we all know this story. At that moment I wrapped myself in the stories and as Seng Ts'an warned, perfection and reality seemed to be thousands of miles apart.
The hooks of the ego were in very deep. At first, when I saw this, I just created a new story. "WOW, I can see it but I keep on weaving the story, my practice is very weak.". The I remembered something my teachers told me. Even when we can't seem to step back, just taking note of our delusion is a big step, and it makes a difference. When we allow ourselves to be patient with ourselves, we fan the embers of compassion.
In time, I settled. To be more accurate, I relaxed. I allowed things to be; without resentment; despite discomfort. There were still things to be done and problems to be solved. But in the moment that I realized this, I came home to my life (even with its hard days). Heaven and Earth were one. Imperfections were perfect, and once again I could feel it.
What the mind knows is realized only through living. This was my lesson for the first week of October.
The Great Way is not difficult
for those who have no preferences.
When love and hate are both absent
everything becomes clear and undisguised.
Make the smallest distinction, however,
and heaven and earth are set infinitely apart.
There is an enormous difference between hearing about a thing, and experiencing it. Although I have heard this passage from the "Faith Mind Poem" of Master Seng Ts'an before, this past week I experienced it in a powerful way.
There is more depth and texture to this short passage (of a much larger poem) than I understand. However, the aspect I encountered was how far apart strong practice and poisoned practice can feel. In Zen, we hear about the three poisons; greed, anger and ignorance. These are the sources of suffering. This past week, I ran into all three.
Coming into this past week, I felt very good. Challenges were met, things were perfect in their imperfections, and life unfolded in its own way. And then I had a "bad" day. The day itself was pretty stressful. Not the worst I have ever had, but it was rough. What made it "bad" was how I tightened up. I internalized the difficulties of the moment, and began to weave stories. The story of how I was a schmuck. The story of how others had failed me. The story of how I was hard done-by. In some form, we all know this story. At that moment I wrapped myself in the stories and as Seng Ts'an warned, perfection and reality seemed to be thousands of miles apart.
The hooks of the ego were in very deep. At first, when I saw this, I just created a new story. "WOW, I can see it but I keep on weaving the story, my practice is very weak.". The I remembered something my teachers told me. Even when we can't seem to step back, just taking note of our delusion is a big step, and it makes a difference. When we allow ourselves to be patient with ourselves, we fan the embers of compassion.
In time, I settled. To be more accurate, I relaxed. I allowed things to be; without resentment; despite discomfort. There were still things to be done and problems to be solved. But in the moment that I realized this, I came home to my life (even with its hard days). Heaven and Earth were one. Imperfections were perfect, and once again I could feel it.
What the mind knows is realized only through living. This was my lesson for the first week of October.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)