Ruminations from the Temple

Snapshot

2019-04-21T11:05:00.003-07:00

[This was written back in May of 2018 for a discussion posting for my master's program. I thought it was worthwhile to revisit. It is a good reminder how quickly things change and why it is important to maintain a committed mindfulness practice.]

"And what is the all that is burning?"

The only way to know if progress is being made is through trial. We show that we have the appropriate depth of knowledge through the fire of finals and we demonstrate our consistent, persistent practice and study through the flames of life. We move through a world that is burning.

I live far enough away from family that they don’t expect me to show up for every crisis. But yesterday, I needed to go, and everything was burning.

"Bhikkhus, all is burning. And what is the all that is burning?”

In 2010 my mother, of blessed memory, passed away. As it happened, my father and a close family friend, Connie, whose husband had died a year or so prior, got together. For the past years they have ‘lived it up,’ doing everything they wanted – they traveled, gambled, partied, camped, purchased, dined, and enjoyed what health they had left. And as everything passes, so did their time. Connie was diagnosed with an incurable cancer 1-1/2 years ago. At the time she was ‘given’ 3 months to live. Now the end is close and my father, well, he is in crisis. He needed his daughter to speak love, comfort, and reassurance to him in a voice so similar to that of his long-departed beloved. I went to be with him and sat at Connie’s bedside to give any comfort I could muster. Pulling on our inherent brahmaviharas, I tried to dampen the flames.

Upon leaving my father a little more uplifted, I met with my daughter. Nearing graduation for her bachelor’s, she is in the press with which we are all so familiar. Pressurized requirements, state assessments, personality friction, and so much cortisol. Too much. She feels terrible … and burning up. I sat with her and let her burn it out a bit. Frustration. Tears. Suffering. Coming alongside, again drawing deeply on equanimity and presence, I deeply listened. I didn’t feel compelled, as has been my custom, to fix, advise, and take on the burning. I sat in peace and knowledge that it will all pass. I shared that with her, as well … or at least tried.

As we watched my beauty drive away to join some schoolmates at a local coffee shop, I prepared myself to meet with my son. A newlywed and hard-working diesel mechanic, he hadn’t responded to my texts. Something was wrong. I finally called – he was stranded in the median amidst heavy traffic. He sounded dejected and resigned. The transmission in his newly purchased truck had just quit. Despite his even-tempered nature, everything in his world was burning. The lessons of life are challenging for the young in this environment we have created, and they suffer. Their whole existence is running, multitasking, striving, competing, and burning. There was nothing I could do. He was 45 minutes away, and his friend was already on his way to rescue. He was disappointed, not only because his new-to-him vehicle had crapped out, but that he couldn’t meet with me. The same calm, loving support bubbled up from my cultivated place of stillness, and I assured him that we could meet soon. Everything was going to work out – when he was safely back home, and things settled down, he would know what to do. And everything passes, everything changes, my dear son – this will, too.

As Chuck took the steering wheel and turned toward home, I was exhausted. But I felt very different, almost indescribable; my way has been to absorb the pain and suffering of others, to bear their burden and make it go away, seeking to give them ease. That lifetime of hypersensitivity has left me with scars of trauma, especially after a day like this one. But, I do believe my consistent practice and study of the Eightfold Path is affording me calm, peace, and ‘right view’ when I see that everything is burning. Equanimity in the presence of pain, suffering, and unfulfilled expectations means I don’t have to make a judgment … I don’t have to fix it … I cannot make the choices for others, even my family. What a relief to calmly extend loving understanding, support, and peace instead.

"The eye is burning, forms are burning, eye-consciousness is burning, eye-contact is burning, also whatever is felt as pleasant or painful or neither-painful-nor-pleasant that arises with eye-contact for its indispensable condition, that too is burning. Burning with what? Burning with the fire of lust, with the fire of hate, with the fire of delusion. I say it is burning with birth, aging and death, with sorrows, with lamentations, with pains, with griefs, with despairs.

"The ear is burning, sounds are burning...

"The nose is burning, odors are burning...

"The tongue is burning, flavors are burning...

"The body is burning, tangibles are burning...

"The mind is burning, ideas are burning, mind-consciousness is burning, mind-contact is burning, also whatever is felt as pleasant or painful or neither-painful-nor-pleasant that arises with mind-contact for its indispensable condition, that too is burning. Burning with what? Burning with the fire of lust, with the fire of hate, with the fire of delusion. I say it is burning with birth, aging and death, with sorrows, with lamentations, with pains, with griefs, with despairs.

"Bhikkhus, when a noble follower who has heard (the truth) sees thus, he finds estrangement in the eye, finds estrangement in forms, finds estrangement in eye-consciousness, finds estrangement in eye-contact, and whatever is felt as pleasant or painful or neither-painful- nor-pleasant that arises with eye-contact for its indispensable condition, in that too he finds estrangement.

"He finds estrangement in the ear... in sounds...

"He finds estrangement in the nose... in odors...

"He finds estrangement in the tongue... in flavors...

"He finds estrangement in the body... in tangibles...

"He finds estrangement in the mind, finds estrangement in ideas, finds estrangement in mind-consciousness, finds estrangement in mind-contact, and whatever is felt as pleasant or painful or neither-painful-nor-pleasant that arises with mind-contact for its indispensable condition, in that too he finds estrangement.

"When he finds estrangement, passion fades out. With the fading of passion, he is liberated. When liberated, there is knowledge that he is liberated. He understands: 'Birth is exhausted, the holy life has been lived out, what can be done is done, of this there is no more beyond.'"

“That is what the Blessed One said. The bhikkhus were glad, and they approved his words. Now during his utterance, the hearts of those thousand bhikkhus were liberated from taints through clinging no more.”

-Adittapariyaya Sutta: The Fire Sermon

Halfway

2018-10-12T14:06:00.000-07:00

The ground was still smoking. So many were gone. Those once considered close were no more than memories now – ghosts that haunted her. She kept walking. She didn’t want to. She wanted to turn around and try, one more time, to work for common ground. But she knew it was fruitless, so she set her face toward the horizon and kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Suddenly, it seemed, years had passed. She had found a refuge, a place to be until the pain subsided. In that refuge, she could forget and focus her attention on the tasks at hand. Curiosity had always been her most loyal companion, and she had let it guide her. She had worked through the training, and when she completed one level, she started another. She just wasn’t ready to integrate the past into her present quite yet. Now, halfway up the mountain, she was spent.

The past wasn’t going to be silent any longer. She had been pretty successful at keeping her eyes focused on the present, not letting the niggling melancholy get the upper-hand, at least not often enough to be a problem. But as she saw the finish line in sight, she began to sink. She could feel the years bearing down on her.

She sat down on a large rock. Surrounded by the trees, she felt their presence strong and steady. She didn’t think it would be like this … oh, there were so many words to describe how she felt. Challenged. Pressured and pushed. Inadequate. Overwhelmed. But really, she felt all those things because she didn’t want to fail. The ghosts wanted her to fail, and she was so tired of trying to prove herself. Bone-tired and weary. She didn’t feel strong anymore. Just spent.

She glanced down at her bag. She had some tools that could help, she was sure. And she wasn’t alone – she had support if she needed it. She was thankful for that. But, they couldn’t do the work for her. She would have to pull herself together. But sitting on this rock, she knew she was just surviving moment by moment, week by week. That just wasn’t the way she wanted it all to go. It would cost too much – she didn’t want to pay with her sanity.

So, she took stock. Time was not in her bag of tricks, so she would have to just keep moving. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” she scolded herself again. But, what would happen if she wasn’t perfect? If she didn’t get it all right? What if she didn’t go above and beyond? Was that even possible?

She sighed. She still had what she had came with – the trial hadn’t stripped her completely bare. Not yet, anyway. And, she could be late sometimes, she told herself. She didn’t have to be first, or best. She didn’t really think she was ‘best,’ not by a long shot, but at least she wanted to be in the ‘better’ category. Perhaps the time for that had passed, and now it was just a matter of perseverance. She could still write, and, if given enough time, she could parse out intentions and motivations fairly well. She could brainstorm, and she still had some creative thoughts arising from time to time, especially if she got quiet long enough. She still had her quick reflexes, but it really had to be a crisis before they were employed anymore – they, too, exacted a cost she was not always willing to pay. Sometimes, and probably more frequent than she was willing to admit, she had resorted to hiding in the quiet refuge of meditation.

But getting quiet had become a problem as of late. It seemed like those ghosts just wouldn’t slink off and disappear on their own. They had been stirred up and agitated. Yes, they were still there, even if they had been ignored due to the distractions. But, she realized she could no longer run fast enough to evade them and sitting quiet just allowed them to revel in the sound of their voices banging around in her head. She often emerged from what used to be a comforting refuge numb from the sharp-edged memories. Was it really them talking, or was it her own condemning voice? Ah … now, there was a question.

Perhaps she could rewrite the memories, since they were hers in the first place. Was that possible? And even if she could, which would take a great deal of effort it would seem, would it give respite enough to continue up the mountain? And, did she even dare to whisper the real question: was what was at the top worth what it would cost her?

From her perch on the rock, she couldn’t see any other options but to keep going. And, that made it even harder. She really hated not having viable options.

She gathered herself and stood. Taking a deep breath, she turned and allowed herself a long look at the path ahead. Then, with determination reminiscent of another lifetime, she put one foot in front of the other heading upwards.

Deep Dive

2018-08-27T09:03:00.000-07:00

First having read the book of myths,

and loaded the camera,

and checked the edge of the knife-blade,

I put on

the body-armor of black rubber

the absurd flippers

the grave and awkward mask.

I am having to do this

not like Cousteau with his

assiduous team

aboard the sun-flooded schooner

but here alone.

There is a ladder.

The ladder is always there

hanging innocently

close to the side of the schooner.

We know what it is for,

we who have used it.

Otherwise

it is a piece of maritime floss

some sundry equipment.

I go down.

Rung after rung and still

the oxygen immerses me

the blue light

the clear atoms

of our human air.

I go down.

My flippers cripple me,

I crawl like an insect down the ladder

and there is no one

to tell me when the ocean

will begin.

First the air is blue and then

it is bluer and then green and then

black I am blacking out and yet

my mask is powerful

it pumps my blood with power

the sea is another story

the sea is not a question of power

I have to learn alone

to turn my body without force

in the deep element.

And now: it is easy to forget

what I came for

among so many who have always

lived here

swaying their crenellated fans

between the reefs

and besides

you breathe differently down here.

I came to explore the wreck.

The words are purposes.

The words are maps.

I came to see the damage that was done

and the treasures that prevail.

I stroke the beam of my lamp

slowly along the flank

of something more permanent

than fish or weed

the thing I came for:

the wreck and not the story of the wreck

the thing itself and not the myth

the drowned face always staring

toward the sun

the evidence of damage

worn by salt and sway into this threadbare beauty

the ribs of the disaster

curving their assertion

among the tentative haunters.

This is the place.

And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair

streams black, the merman in his armored body.

We circle silently

about the wreck

we dive into the hold.

I am she: I am he

whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes

whose breasts still bear the stress

whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies

obscurely inside barrels

half-wedged and left to rot

we are the half-destroyed instruments

that once held to a course

the water-eaten log

the fouled compass

We are, I am, you are

by cowardice or courage

the one who find our way

back to this scene

carrying a knife, a camera

a book of myths

in which

our names do not appear.

From Diving into the Wreck: Poems 1971-1972 by Adrienne Rich.

I left the book. It didn’t have my name in it anyway.

And, after all, who cares? I can’t even tell why I had it – why anyone has it. It is all a story, but created for what? What motivation could have possibly prompted such imagination? This collection of tales has determined life, death, love, and hatred for so many. Why would they do such a thing?

But how could they know who would take their story and make it into more than a myth?

Just to call it a myth gives it an identity – a label. Scripture. Sacred. Irrelevant. Misinterpreted. What would they say now about the story? Would they know how to respond to all the harm that has come from their musings? Would they be sorry they wrote anything at all? Would they cry “foul!” at the changes that have been made by those with another agenda, another motivation other than theirs? Would they claim innocence at the blood that has been spilled in the name of their myth, their story, their creation? Would they feel responsible… or used?

I left the book of myths on the sea floor in the dark, in the cold. I left it without a rope, like so much unwanted refuse that just gets thrown ‘away.’ And will my world be a better place without the book of myths that didn’t contain my name? Will I miss the book that gave me so much comfort despite the anguish, despite the lies? Will I think often of the book’s fate in the watery deep all alone?

But further, will someone else find and take it as a treasure? And what will become of them, what will be their fate living with the book of myths that is lacking their name? Will they show it to others and convince them of its value? Will they eventually leave it behind like I did? And what will be the residue?

[Postscript: I first heard this poem read aloud. Above is the response that flowed from my hand. But, as I contemplate the poem further, the images strike me again. What of those tools? A book of myths that doesn't contain my name because it was written in a different time to a different audience; a camera that records moments in time that only now exist in my memory; a sharpened knife to trim away what is no longer wanted or useful. Do I need more? If so, what? And then there is the wreck – what do we ‘do’ with that other than stare in amazement and a tinge of disbelief? What in the world are we to do with the wreck of our history, both personally and collectively? Turn away? Pretend it is something different, something more pleasant or desired? Can we make justifications or excuses, sidestepping our responsibility, negating the suffering? Or, are we supposed to face it squarely and let the anger, frustration, and pain wash over us again? So many questions to which I have no answers.]

stating the obvious

2018-08-23T11:59:00.000-07:00

A master's program is no walk in the park.

Clutter, both physical and mental, makes everything harder.

Having a tribe is a lesson in non-attachment.

Each experience causes change.

Authenticity brings peace of mind, but not usually applause or companions.

No one can do it for you. Not even God.

Gossip is like bamboo - the invasive kind, not the lucky kind.

Social media is a hindrance more than a help.

Fresh air is an amazing treasure taken for granted.

Sincerity is obvious. So is insincerity.

Everyone is ten-years-old on the inside.

Awareness is a good thing.

Thinking about silence.

2018-04-26T16:09:00.001-07:00

Speak only if it improves the silence.

~Mahatma Ghandi (and Zen saying)

"Silence soothes us and brings us back to present moment.

Today take time to be silent, just breathe and honor the here and now."

That is my practice.

2018-04-26T16:01:00.002-07:00

All beings are the owners of their intentions, actions, and results.

Their level of happiness depends upon their actions, not on my wishes for them.

May we all accept things as they are.

May we be undisturbed by the comings and goings of events.

I care for you but cannot keep you from suffering.

I wish you happiness but cannot make your choices for you.

No matter what I wish for, things are as they are.

It seems to me that there are two sides to the concept of equanimity: dealing with our own expectations and reactions to happenings, and holding a balanced view of happenings in the lives of others. I have a long history of suffering for others and have struggled to maintain balance. I have tried to help, advise, make way, bear their burden, ‘take the hit,’ and be available to all who are in need, often to my own detriment. It is my intention for the above mantras to become so familiar and practiced that they will become my go-to response to the pain, suffering, and seemingly unavoidable drama that arises.

Dealing with my own expectations and finding balance began with the startling realization that expectations cause suffering. I now strongly believe and observe this to be true and am continually practicing awareness of my own expectations. It is difficult to extinguish expectations and hopes, and to not attach to dreams. Keeping my focus on the present, along with moment-by-moment gratitude, is helping to prevent the inevitable suffering and narrative creation of dashed expectations. That all sounds nice, but the struggle is real and ongoing.

I regularly make use of a phrase that arose out of a need for acceptance. It was during a dark period of my journey that I hate to revisit … years ago now; in that time, everyday held ongoing trouble and hurt, so I started responding by saying, “it’s not a good thing or a bad thing, it’s just a thing.” This phrase enabled me to keep walking in those days. It became a mantra for me, a way to release myself from the burden of having to make a judgment. It’s an amazing thing to be free of the obligation of judgment. I didn’t know it at the time, nor have given it much thought in the hundreds of times I have repeated it since, but that is equanimity. That is my practice.

Springtime Meditation

2018-04-22T13:50:00.002-07:00

It is so pleasant to be able to get outside after, what seems like, such a lengthy winter. I have taken more time this last week to just sit outside. I have been enjoying meditation in different parts of my garden listening to the birds, hearing the wind chimes, and watching the ducks. I can’t imagine not being grateful for the moment – practicing metta for all that is around me is a natural response. May all the animals find what they need to nest, may the plants thrive in the sun, may the peace I feel now sustain me through times of stress and unrest. Just being in the garden, mindfully considering the springtime rebirth, is refreshingly healing after such a stretch of weather that takes your breath away and chases you back inside the house.

Chuck and I have been taking more walks in the fresh air and sunshine – we have naturally made them into more of walking meditation. Just quietly and mindfully walking allows time to note the sounds and sensations within as we stroll along - the changes in the trees and the budding flowers, the constant grazing of the deer, the arguing crows, and the scattered clouds shifting overhead. It is so pleasant and peaceful. I also enjoy the ‘summer-time’ sounds of the far-off lawn mower and snippets of music coming from inside homes with their doors open to let in fresh air. I know there is much hustle-bustle going on just a mere drive away. But for us, life is sweet and slow, with more than enough time to savor a home-cooked meal, a favorite piece of music, and a sit in the garden.

No, I never thought my life would be this way. I am savoring every moment.

Think Again.

2018-03-22T14:59:00.000-07:00

Think you can just delete your account from Facebook and escape data collection?

Think again.

I deleted my FB account quite a while ago. It was not easy, and took a couple of sessions of attempts prior to actually 'deleting,' including a waiting period (cooling off period?). When, in the course of my Masters study I was alerted to a private student group, I saw a definite need to jump back on Facebook. Yes, I have benefited from the group, but I also learned that Facebook had retained all my information. More than that, it reminds me regularly that I was another 'identity' at one time, and that I may want to meld the two. But wait...I thought I deleted. Think again.

Take a look at this from the NYT - I think you would need to have a post-grad degree in comp-sci to actually accomplish what so many think they are doing by deleting their account:

How disheartening. This is where we are now, watched and milked for demographic data like a herd of cows, but where are we going with all this?

I cannot help but to say that this is all in the name of capitalism. So much greed.

capitalism = unregulated accrual of wealth,
usually at the expense of the consumer

I really don't know what to do with my Facebook account now. I don't get that much benefit from the school group that much, but when there is drama, it can be helpful. It was in that group that I learned about certain courses and was able to change my course of study accordingly. But, do I still need that input? I am not sure. And, with the knowledge that Facebook has a line on me anyway (and all my contacts, by the way), from years ago to now, what is the use? Is there another option?

I hate it when I don't have a choice. We are told we have freedom of choice and a voice at the ballot box, too. But, the truth is that we are manipulated in ways we don't even know and as consumers we are exploited and used at every turn, while only the elites get the privileges we thought we had.

I am hoping that some bright millennial comes up with a way to confound the whole thing, and give Zuckerberg a run for his money.

Much Needed Wisdom

2018-03-05T09:47:00.000-08:00

There are times that, while in the midst of struggle, wisdom appears. This is one of those times.

Every morning we start our day by reading a small book called Everyday Tao, by Deng Ming-Dao (1996). Taoism is credited with being, by far, the oldest of human religions, with its sacred text attributed to Lao Tzu, a person who may have been real or simply legend. The name Lao Tzu simply means old wise one, so basically the Daodejing could be thought of as the oldest recording of human wisdom on the planet, or at least to our current and limited knowledge. So, why is all this important?

Because I need wisdom. We all need wisdom. Because we all suffer, either by pain inflicted outside our control, or by reliving and ruminating (yes, ruminating) over the pain that has been inflicted. We cause our own pain and suffering. And, heaven help us, we just can't seem to get out of our own stupid way. Sound familiar?

My beloved read the following excerpt to me this morning. I have been slogging through a Master's degree program, which would be hard enough on its own. But add unexpected criticisms, online tech platforms, and time zone difficulties, and this endeavor has culminated into much pain and suffering. I really needed to hear this today. Perhaps you do, as well.

"No matter what happens in life, believe in yourself. Don't give up that for a god. Don't give that up for a master. Don't give that up for a parent. Don't give that up for a spouse. Don't give that up for a child. No matter what, believe in yourself.

Not one of these people can live in your place. Not one of these people knows you like you know yourself.

No god knows you. No master knows you. No fortune-teller knows you. No one can know you if you don't want to be known. Why? Because the future is not yet made. How can they know what you will do next?

Too many people let others dominate them. For what? For the good of the other only. If you let society dominate you, who wins? Society. If you let your parents dominate you, who benefits? Your parents. If you let a master dominate you, who is empowered? The master. If you let gods dominate you, who is enriched? The gods.

And where does that leave you?

The master says, "study with me, or be relegated to ignorant sorrow." The gods say, "worship me, or I will punish you in this life and in lives to come." Tell me, what good are associations built on dirty threats?

Tao does not threaten. Worship it and it will not be augmented. Ignore it and it will not be diminished. Follow it and you will be preserved. Oppose it and you will be destroyed. But, if you do choose to follow it, you become independent. That is liberation."

(Ming-Dao, p. 206)

I set my intention to believe in myself. I set my intention not to succumb to domination and self-degradation due to the threats of a master (or anyone). I set my intention to be kind, compassionate, and wise to myself, about myself, in my thoughts, words, and actions. And finally, I intend to be inspired daily by the words of the Dalai Lama. When he was asked about his critics, he wisely answered thus:

"I have been called many things for many years, a 'wolf in sheep's clothing,' a 'counter-revolutionary,' and so on. When I hear such criticisms, I look carefully at my intentions. If my intentions are good and I know them clearly as such, then ultimately I just don't care about these criticisms" (Rothberg, The Engaged Spiritual Life, 2006, p. 55).

I, too, look carefully and honestly at my intentions. My intentions are to do the best I can, and then rest knowing that my work may not have been perfect, but that I did the very best I could. I work hard, I diligently try to fulfill expectations as a student, mother, partner, and friend. I don't always succeed. But in the face of criticism, I must say that when I carefully examine my intentions, I know they are good. And that is good enough.

Goodbye

2018-02-15T16:14:00.002-08:00

I didn’t meditate as usual this morning. Solomon died suddenly and tragically (perhaps from an illness or an internal condition). So very sad.

I rode the waves of grief and trauma and just let them come. I did my best to not attach to the emotions but acknowledged them. I diligently tried not to create stories along the way, but I am not sure I was successful. I struggled with feeling responsible somehow, and guilty for not being able to help him in his distress. I felt helpless in the face of his anguish … and mine.

I sat with him for an hour or more – probably 2. I think he went into a deep shock and was slowly slipping away. I thought I heard faint purring and sporadic shallow respiration. At one point I could hear a faint heartbeat, but after a while even that went away. I was just heartsick.

I sought to PAUSE and feel what was happening in my body. At one point I had a major sugar-crash and grabbed for glucose-tab. At another check-in with my body, I wondered why I didn’t feel aversion to touching what I rationally knew was a dead body. While he laid on my bed, he was warm, and I comforted him. Or at least I want to believe I was. I think I was comforting us both.

I wanted to RELAX. I am not sure I was relaxed at all, but I was not anxious other than hoping that he would somehow bounce back after the shock. But eventually I had to admit his respirations and heartbeat were gone. We moved him to the living room, wrapped him in a towel, laid him on his favorite paper bag. We started to change our environment to fit the new circumstances. It was therapeutic to gather his things and store them in the garage. We decided where we were going to bury him, stepping outside to breathe the fresh, cold air. I felt it rush into my lungs, the hot tears still stinging my eyes, while the tension flowed out of my body just like in practice. My vision was filled with our beautiful surroundings and I let it soothe my aching heart.

I allowed myself OPEN to the immense sadness and grief of losing my beloved ‘Kitty.’ I grieved for Morgan and for Taylor, as they both would be immensely sad of his passing. So unexpected. I let myself feel the deep sadness with curiosity and kindness. I was sorry for Chuck, as I was afraid he would think I was weak or silly for being so torn up about losing our cat. But Solomon was more than just a pet – he was a link between the past and the present, a small piece of Morgan living in our home (since he was her cat), and a remembrance of times and people past. He embodied a piece of my history. Solomon was my companion during the day, and my sleeping buddy at night. He meditated with me from the beginning, curling up on a meditation cushion beside me while I struggled through those early days of committed practice. He was verbal and talked to us all the time, reporting about the things he would see in his catio while we were having our morning coffee. I opened myself up to all those memories and felt deeply how much I would miss him.

The house is so different without him this afternoon. I am giving myself much compassion and space to grieve fully the loss of my friend. Somehow the loss triggered all the other memories of death I have experienced, and Chuck’s, too. We sat and talked in the quiet. We remembered his son and I talked about my mother. We cried some more. We supported each other, listened deeply, spoke our truth, and let the silences just be. This loving interchange I can only call unconditional dialogue.

Love manifests and then it goes. And somewhere in between, life happens.

Goodbye, Kitty. I love you. We will miss you.

Taking a Stand: Right Speech

2018-02-06T11:03:00.003-08:00

“Thus, more than an ethical principle, devotion to truthful speech is a matter of taking our stand on reality rather than illusion, on the truth grasped by wisdom rather than the fantasies woven by desire.”

Bhikkhu Bodhi’s perspective is from that of a monk. When I read his words, I am reminded that he is a renunciant. He has chosen to live without many of the comforts, desires, and pleasures that those of us non-renunciants enjoy. But he does have one thing that many of us do not – undistracted vision. The above profundity that flows from his observation, most certainly, is a nugget worth further exploration.

He also has the luxury of speaking the truth. I know that may sound strange, but for those of us living out in the fray of society, we don’t often have the space or privilege to speak the truth. For example, have you ever answered the cashier’s scripted inquiry by stating the truth: “no, I actually didn’t find everything I was looking for.” I have responded in this way, and my experience has been that they don’t know how to answer. Speaking the truth is socially awkward. There is not really another option without feeling awkward – only yes. Likewise, how do we answer the superficial question, “how is your day going?” If we had the space to speak the truth, perhaps we wouldn’t feel confined to say “fine, and yours?” When we are out in society, we are conditioned to function within the constructed illusion of reality (the truth is that the cashier is required ask you if you found everything alright even if they cannot help you, and that not everyone is having a day that is fine). Further, we are so conditioned to live in this superficial reality that it leaks into even our most intimate relationships, especially with ourselves.

These are silly examples of constructed illusion, most certainly. But how about the illusion we maintain to sustain our self-identity or self-worth? The mind creates narratives to uphold our identities; for example, I have taken quite a few courses on medieval Christianity, so I perceive myself to have a ‘voice of authority’ when the conversation turns in that direction; it is a personal area of expertise beyond the average person, and showing my knowledge makes me feel smarter than others. While I may know more than some, this is an illusion that feeds my sense of self-worth and identity. It can also fuel competition, especially if my conclusions are challenged by another. If challenged, I am forced to take a stand to defend my understanding of the subject matter, my self-worth, and self-identity. This type of speech habit, while it may make me feel good about myself temporarily, has the potential to make me appear as a know-it-all, or make my companions feel less than adequate or ignorant. The truth of it is that I may, unknowingly, be speaking with someone who has studied far more than myself. Or it is possible that the information and study I have done has brought me to an erroneous conclusion, or perhaps a partial truth.

Bodhi says that to enact right or wise speech we must take a stand on reality. To take that stand, we must be aware of the habit of speaking for personal or selfish motives, rather than sharing truth. And that truth is “not just a verbal proposition but the nature of things as they are” (Bodhi, 1999). To speak the truth of reality is an acknowledgement of impermanence, that we are all interconnected (non-self), and that we all are grasping and craving for satisfaction and contentedness in some way. When we speak truth in a way that is compassionate and edifying to our companions, we will be inching ever closer to taking a stand on reality instead of illusion and “fantasies woven by desire.”

Reference:

Bodhi, B. (1999). The noble eightfold path: The way to the end of suffering. Retrieved January 16, 2018, from https://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/authors/bodhi/waytoend.html

The Gap

2018-01-30T15:25:00.000-08:00

I'll see you in the gap.

That place between our out-breath and our in.

That pause between what is said and what is understood,
between one thought and the next.

Between the night and the dawn,
and between the last rays of sunshine and the gathering dusk.

The gap lies between the solid platform of obligation
and the moving train of what-if.

It is the space between sleeping and waking,
and the transition between what is expected and the exceptional.

The gap is that terrain between what we believe and what we are afraid to say,
and that moment when our life flashes before our eyes.

The gap is silent.
Lao Tzu said that in silence there is strength,
and who can argue?
For it is in the silence of the gap
that human potential eternally resides.

Push a little farther into the gap.
Breathe in, breathe out, and notice the pause.
There it is, the silent, pregnant gap.
Close your eyes and know that it is real and alive,
full of promise and empty of judgement.
It embodies the potential of growth, expansion,
and enlightenment.

Fearlessly seek the gap.
Push the known boundaries to that place that is familiar, yet unexplored.
What can you find when your breath stops?
What will you see? What do you feel?

Between the striving and the arriving, there is a space.
In the pause there is all of what could be.
It is the gap.

I'll see you there.

A Confession and a Promise

2018-01-21T14:26:00.000-08:00

happily RESISTing!

I am ashamed to say that I am responsible, at least in part, for the mess our country is now in.

Yes, it is true that I am not in politics, nor do I have a weighty voice of authority. But I still have to take some of the responsibility for where we find ourselves. I am sure we could, without reservation, call the present political situation a dumpster fire.

My family was and is blue - forever blue. And so was I until I entered religious life. As a Christian, and then as a Messianic Jew, I was compelled to vote red. Why, you ask? Because Family Values. Because conservatism. Because all my friends did. I am ashamed to say that I voted red usually, but I didn't always vote red, I did vote for Obama's second term...but I didn't tell anyone. Still, those red votes gave place and validity to some of the politicians that are in office presently.

I am chagrined to think that I was pushed along with the peer tide of religious conservatism. I have always hated peer pressure, but sure enough, I gave in. If it was blessed by the Almighty, perhaps I was wrong to vote blue, I was told. Maybe the liberals were all about a scary one-world government, ID chips inserted in people's hands as Revelation predicted, and ushering in the Tribulation. How was I to know? The sad fact is that I believed what I was told, either overtly or implied, instead of reasoning things out for myself. I caved.

I admit I watched Fox News, much to my shame. Well, actually, I am glad I did in a way because now I know what it truly is - propaganda. I listened to the hate speech of Hannity, Limbaugh, and Coulter, and carefully considered the arguments of O'Reilly (I didn't know at the time he was a sexual harasser, although I am not surprised, frankly). I convinced myself I was still rational - I often disagreed with their stand, but I could see where they were coming from. But the problem is that they were and are not completely forthcoming with their agenda - they ultimately fuel a political machine of elites. They are on the front lines convincing the masses what to believe. And they succeed most of the time...at least with their listeners, who usually don't listen to anything else. Perhaps anyone with a steady diet of Christian radio, Fox News, conservative talk radio, and Sunday sermons would end up voting red, as well. I guess that is how you get people to vote against their best interests and be happy about it...even defend it - convince them that it is God's will.

I am not positive about how all my religious friends voted, and sometimes one would admit that they grew up blue. Who is to say that they weren't manipulated or felt pressured to vote red like the rest of us? But, come on...what Christian is gonna vote blue - they are pro-choice!

And there is the problem. Religion and politics need to stay separate. Yes, I have heard the argument: we want God to run our affairs. Sounds good, but it is all wrong. Why not keep the two separate in order for them both to do their jobs effectively? Religion can speak to individual and community morality, while politics can concern itself with the protection and well-being of the entire population, whether religious or not. Once the two are combined, all hell breaks loose and rampant manipulation ensues. Thank you Jerry Falwell.

But I digress. I am sorry to say that I listened to and allowed myself to be persuaded by the Religious Right. As it turns out, it is so wrong. And this is how we have ended up here in the dumpster fire we call the Trump Administration of lies, sexism, bigotry, racism, elitism, and white/male privilege. So much garbage to burn.

I look very happy in the picture above. I am happy, ecstatically so. I am happy because I am no longer supporting the misguided social harm of the supposedly Grand Old Party with their legislation of hatred and restrictions. And now they can't even keep the government running. They can't even manage to pay the military on which they rely so heavily to get them elected.

I am happy even though I feel as though we are drowning in the storm. I hate to think about what will happen when all the Trump supporters and Christians who voted for him against their better judgement realize their healthcare is taken away, or their disability checks don't arrive, or when that lovely tax break isn't as great as it was touted. What then? I guess I will tell them I am sorry because I was, in a small way, a part of it. I did not vote for Trump, and you can be sure of this: I will never again be manipulated to vote a certain way to win favor in a specific group, and I will NEVER vote red again. Full Stop.

I'm not so sure about that.

2018-01-18T13:02:00.000-08:00

The title of this post is a phrase I have said often, usually as a reply to praise. I say it because it is true - I am not so sure about whatever praise is being given. I am doubtful of its validity. Not that the person is trying to mislead me, but that I just have my doubts that it is really true. Because I know me, and I know my failings. Further, I have been close to people who have expressed appreciation and care, but then caused hurt with mis-perceptions, gossip, and slander. Those experiences have cast a long shadow of doubt upon my abilities and on the perceptions of others.

I believe we all have doubts, some more than others. Doubts about ourselves, our relationships, our beliefs, and our security and safety. Everything is forever in flux, so how can we not have doubts that what we understand and rely upon today will not be upended tomorrow? But, in our current societal environment, we need to exhibit confidence in our own abilities and understanding to succeed. Those who are considered shy, quiet, or lacking self-confidence are considered weak and ineffective. Doubts, both personal and professional, can be huge obstacles to successful relationships, both personal and professional. So what are we supposed to do with these nagging and hidden doubts?

I recently read something about doubt that, at least for me, could really be a game-changer.

"When one has doubts, it is usually because there have been attempts to mislead." (*)

First of all, doubt is not a personal flaw or weakness, but a result of past experiences. Perhaps you can agree that the older we get, the more skeptical (full of doubt) we become. And no wonder - we are marketed to, manipulated, truly pressured from all sides to do and act in ways that society dictates. We are told that we are lacking somehow, and are in need of whatever they are selling. Businesses want our dollars, politicians want our votes, and employers want as much as they can get for as little as they can get by paying for. All that would make for some skepticism and doubt, if not downright cynicism. Yes, I must admit that I doubt many things because there have been many attempts to mislead.

"When a religious leader urges you to be spiritual for the sake of a place in heaven, ask yourself: are you a child who needs to be bribed to do the right thing?

When a teacher says that you should enter Tao [or any religion] so that you can become immortal, ask yourself: why search far afield when the glory of Tao [or God] is always at hand?

When a master exhorts you to be pure and avoid divine punishment, ask yourself: who needs threats in order to know purity?

When an authority tells you that to be religious is to be better than everyone else, ask yourself: who needs the illusion of superiority?

Spiritual leaders are supposed to be leading us to truth and instead they use exaggerations to gain converts.

Or do they believe these things themselves?" (*)

These are powerful words from the author, and are quite an indictment of leadership of all flavors. And only each individual can answer - do I need to be bribed or threatened? These kind of tactics imply that one wouldn't choose to do the right thing(s) on their own - an implied doubt of character or ability.

When we doubt our own abilities, it could be because someone has implied we are unable or has insincerely flattered for personal gain. When we doubt our own beliefs, it could be because spiritual leaders have manipulated with exaggeration and fear-tactics. When we doubt the claims of others, it could be because we have been lied to or misled before. And when we doubt the loyalty or sincerity of relationship, it could be because we have been taken for granted, used, or abandoned. Again, I ask the question: how can we not doubt when we have been misled?

The word doubt is defined as a feeling of uncertainty or a lack of conviction, both of which could be interpreted as undesirable character traits. But, it seems to me that doubt born of past events could be a survival mechanism, and further, even a way to consider what is heard and experienced with more wisdom and awareness.

The Chinese character for the word translated doubt contains representations of the heart, the mouth, and a weapon - a very insightful combination. When we purposely mislead, we are fostering doubt in another, thus making trust difficult to maintain. When we are misled, we learn to doubt the sincerity of others. We do not have to discount or hide doubts or dis-beliefs; it is beneficial to acknowledge them with curious awareness. If we were to look deeply into our doubts, we may gain insight, understanding, and even compassion toward ourselves and others. And, in the end, it is compassion, rather than self-confidence, that is truly needed for authentic human success.

(*) Ming-Dao, D. (1996). Everyday Tao: Living with balance and harmony. San Francisco, CA: HarperSanFrancisco.

Why Study Religion?

2018-01-17T13:31:00.002-08:00

A former professor of mine sent out an all-call to alumni asking the question - why study religion? It makes me a little uncomfortable because this is how the demise of the Classics department began, with a simple question. I can hardly think about eliminating Classics as a department (since it was a favorite subject matter and a minor of mine), but I truly cannot even fathom Pacific Lutheran University not having a Religion department. Unthinkable.

So, why study religion?

I am in a graduate program in Mindfulness Studies. While it is understood as a secular endeavor, there is no way to untangle the practice of mindfulness from its Buddhist roots and wisdom. I wasn’t aware of it, but I was continuing my undergraduate studies in religion with my choice of post-graduate study. But this time instead of the ancient religions of Sumer, Egypt, the Levant, and Europe, I am studying the religions of the ancient Far East.

Religion has shaped my life, both personally and academically. And it has also shaped everyone else’s, whether they participate or not. Religion is not only part of human culture, it IS human culture. It is the very heart of Humanities – the important questions of philosophy are given voice through religion, our language is shaped according to our etiological stories of creation and our environment, and our history is motivated by our religious mythology. Those who study human artifacts and past societies – anthropologists and archaeologists – are greatly benefited by knowing about the trace of religious beliefs throughout the ages to understand the actions and reactions of ancient peoples. And, of course, those who study humans – psychologists and sociologists, including educators – will affirm that religion drives the very laws and precepts that maintain order and safety, but also control individual behaviors such as food practices, clothing choices, parenting, and morality.

Religion is considered the moral compass of any land, even if no one can really determine whose morality is best to enforce. It is personal, interpersonal and alienating – all at the same time. Religion has this amazing ability to reveal human strengths, weaknesses, fears, and motivations. It is my opinion that to better understand any subject that involves humans, one must have some knowledge and understanding of human religion. And, if one chooses to study religion outside of a liberal academic context (as in theology or apologetics), they are only receiving one facet of this multi-dimensional, all-encompassing subject. No student receiving a degree from university should be without at least one, if not more, courses in religious study on their transcript. The study of philosophy, history, language, archaeology, psychology, or sociology is incomplete without some understanding of the human endeavor of religion.

As a side note, in our household we are reading the latest from Reza Aslan, God – A Human History (2017). I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Inviting the Bell

2018-01-08T14:04:00.001-08:00

This morning I took a few minutes to listen to everyone's favorite teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh. It was a fascinating teaching about 'inviting' the sound of the bell, sometimes called a singing bowl.

Bells grab our attention, and are quite common in spiritual practices the world over. When we were in Greece, we stayed across the street from a beautiful Orthodox church. Anyone who is familiar with this religious practice is well aware of the many times throughout the day that those bells ring out, calling the faithful to pray, remember, and even come to acknowledge those enshrined in iconography. Some bells are recorded, but some are still rung by the attendants of the particular church. I never tired of them. In the Catholic tradition, not only are bells still rung from some of the churches, but also during Mass to announce special moments. In Judaism, it is not so much bells, but horns. The shofar is a distinct sound and acts like a bell to call, gather, and focus on the divine.

Thich Nhat Hahn, in this short teaching, explained how to prepare to hear, or as he said, "invite," the bell. He gave a poem to memorize, and instructed breathing in and out while reciting the lines of the poem. This is wonderful, but not what I found intriguing. What caught my attention was that he said that we hear half the bell the first time, and after we focus, we can then hear the full sound of the bell.

The teaching continued with explanation of hearing the half bell with our ears. But the other half of the bell is heard deep within - that intuitive center of us that beckons us to focus and come home to the present moment. We then can hear the bell with our ears and our being, making the sound of the bell whole and complete. If we only hear the bell with our ears, it is only half of its potential.

As I contemplated this half sound and full sound of the bell, I considered the thousands of times I have enacted a small practice of my own creation. I usually practice this when alone, when I need comfort, and especially when heading into stormy relational waters or difficult situations. It is very simple: I pause to acknowledge the power deep within me - the center of my being. This pause is accompanied by a rather involuntary deep breath in that fills my lungs and whole body with fresh air. I am always refreshed, empowered, and restored by the presence of this power as it fills my awareness. During various times of my life I have attributed this power to God, or the indwelling Holy Spirit, but always originating from the very center of my being. Though simple, this practice continues to be a great source of strength and peace for me, and is often a place of refuge - my true home. And from this place, I can fully embrace, with my senses and my being, the present moment.

When we come home to the present moment, we can experience everything at its fullest potential. Listening and experiencing our life with our senses and our whole being is truly living - living fully. Just like hearing the bell. We hear the half sound, then we follow the sound of the bell with our awareness. We pause with attention to the breath and focus as we hear, and invite, the sound of the bell again. But this time, we hear it in full. We hear the bell with our ear and our entire being.

Somehow these two concepts, the inviting of the bell, and my personal practice of centering awareness of my own potential, are one and the same. It is easy to take in sensations through our eyes, ears, touch, taste, and smell, but how much more can be experienced and understood when we pause, center, draw on our internal source, and then fully embrace the sensation? In truth, it is an 'inviting' of the fullness of what is present.

Body, speech and mind in perfect oneness,

I send my heart along with the sound of this bell.

May all hearers awaken from forgetfulness,

and transcend the path of anxiety and sorrow.

I listen to this wonderful sound,

and it brings me back to my true home.
~Thich Nhat Hanh

9 Steps to a Happier 2018

2018-01-01T14:03:00.000-08:00

our view of the world

It has been 7 months since I graduated and we moved to the coast. It is idyllic, really, as you can imagine. It is quiet, and it rains quite a bit, which often keeps visitors to our little resort town away. Living in a little town you are forced to make your own lifestyle - the town will not provide it for you. This is very unlike where we moved from.

We made the two-hour trek to our old stomping grounds yesterday. But, as we sped closer to more populated areas, I started to feel the tension creep into my shoulders and down my back. My now-accustomed relaxed state of mind was slipping away to make room for the overstimulated state I experienced the majority of my life. It used to be so normal, but now it feels like such a uncomfortable blanket being draped across my shoulders sucking away what peace and equanimity I have worked to build.

In the South-Sound area, the traffic is always an issue - so competitive and crowded. There is just not enough room for everyone, truly. And then there is the advertising on every flat space available. It is this way not only in my hometown, but in hub of humanity across the country. But there was something else I realized, and it has been eating at me. Let me explain.

I sincerely believe that mindfulness - the purposeful presence in the present moment - is the most sure way of finding happiness, and ultimately peace. And I am not talking about shallow happiness that comes when you get what you want for Christmas. I am talking about the deep joy of living. The practice of mindfulness is a way to de-stress and take control of anxiety, depression, anger, even feelings of helplessness. A mindful way of life is taking control and responsibility in a way that fosters compassion, empathy, and peace.

At our house, we practice mindful living. We are not perfect - not by a long-shot. But we have a peaceful, respectful home. We also do not watch television, consume mainstream news, and actively limit our time and exposure on social media. We have made a diligent effort to step out of the stream of consumerism. We immerse ourselves in reading, learning, and discussing ways to build our practice of mindfulness. All of this does not make us better or smarter. But, it does make us more aware and available to each other. And, I must admit, our lifestyle is very much helped by where we live.

Infamous Meridian on South Hill, Puyallup

And there is the problem I see - how can anyone practice mindfulness in the heavily populated, stressful, competitive cities and suburbs? How can we make good, mindful decisions as consumers when we are manipulated and marketed to constantly? How can anyone keep what is most important - living in the present moment - at the forefront when everyone is being pulled and pushed in so many different directions? Even driving from home to the grocery store would be enough to lose a mindful intent.

It is the norm to be regretting the past or fearing the future, screaming along with the speed of our own thoughts. Yet the reality is that we can only live here and now - the present moment. We so often fritter the present moment away consumed with the past and the future. I am convinced that mindfulness is a valid solution for serious, deep cultural issues such as anxiety (fear of what may come), depression (regret over what has happened), anger (unfulfilled expectations), and addiction (mistaking temporary reward for deep happiness), but how can it even get a foothold in our high-stress, competitive, and self-centered lifestyle?

It is my observation that most are mindlessly going along with the flow, just trying to survive, yet suffering immensely. We are overfed, overstimulated, and distracted, yet still searching for meaning. We suffer because we cannot find long-lasting peace, comfort, acceptance, and love ... mostly because we do not know where to look.

These are the questions that haunt me as a student of mindfulness. I know the answer to those questions lies within ourselves, and there is only one way to access it - awareness, stillness, and silence. There is so much need for it, but there are so many obstacles.

Meditation is only now gaining a truthful, non-hippy reputation after its introduction in the 60s and 70s. Meditation retreats can be intimidating and expensive, while teachers are difficult to find. Yoga is popular, but more due to the physical benefits and relaxation, not so much for mindfulness. But the real obstacle has been religious leaders who have actively discouraged meditation and awareness as contrary to monotheistic religion, which is simply not true. Meditation can, and is, practiced by Christians, Jews, and Muslims - it is typically called devotions, contemplation, and prayer.

In the face of these obstacles, the benefits of meditation and mindfulness has only just begun to be validated by scientific research, most remarkably neuroscience that shows the amazing plasticity of the human brain. Yes, we truly can make changes for our betterment!

So, at the beginning of a new year, why not try something new and make some small changes toward a more aware and mindful lifestyle? Even if you don't have the circumstance of a peaceful place to live, there are some steps you can take toward more peace, comfort, and happiness. Here are some suggestions:

1. Limit social media - or at the very least cull your friends list. Come on ... not all the people in your friends list are actual friends, so take the opportunity to see more of who you actually know by slimming down and cleaning up your feeds. And, there is good research that says that we are addicted to social media. Moreover, there are some who say that social media is ripping apart the fabric of our society - read it HERE. By paying attention to our habits, we can take control of how much time we are spending scrolling and liking, what motivates us to stay online, and how it makes us feel both mentally and physically.

2. Turn off the television. Take up reading, a hobby or craft, or take up physical activity as a de-stressor. Mindless television consumption only increases feelings of stress, helplessness, irritation, and unhealthy cravings. Television influences us far more than we realize - take back control.

3. Meditate. Try the free Insight Timer app for your smartphone and start small, like 5 minutes. This is not a religious activity, but one that can gain back some sanity. Silence and stillness are good for the soul. Give it a try. Then investigate different types of meditation such as walking meditation, reclining meditation and body scans, and loving-kindness meditation. A quick google search will yield much wonderful information from teachers such as Jack Kornfield, Sharon Salzberg, Joseph Goldstein, Tara Brach, Mark Epstein, and just for fun, check out Dan Harris. This is not joining a religion - mindfulness practice can be a secular activity that is good for human thriving and happiness, I promise. It will not compromise your chosen faith. (As a matter of fact, many are enjoying Christian meditations and prayer On the Insight Timer app.)

4. Give up retail-therapy. Buying material goods does not constitute happiness, at least not deep, lasting happiness. Happiness comes from within, not from the mall. Challenge yourself to not purchase anything for three days or even a week. Can you do it? (Perhaps with the money you save, you can find a good retreat center to attend.)

I personally struggle with this one, but am making progress!

5. Practice doing nothing. In our culture, we have all succumbed to the erroneous thought that we must always be doing something to prove our worth. Don't believe me? Just count the number of times you tell others how busy you are, and then you tell me. We all know we make time for what we truly want to do, so the claim of busyness is either an excuse to get out of something or a way to build up how important we are. Let go of all that. It is okay to be content doing nothing - this does not constitute laziness - it is taking time for yourself so you can be more available to others.

6. Lighten the load. Check out Marie Kondo and her method of tidying to get rid of extra baggage, both material and mental. Mindfully consider and retain only that which brings you joy. Besides, the less you have, the less you have to take care of.

7. Try eating mindfully. Dr. Chozen Bays has a terrific book that talks all about eating mindfully, and I just wrote an article about how eating mindfully can give you back control of your health and well-being (your destiny). So, slow down, enjoy what you are eating, don't multi-task, and you, too, can take back control of your mindless eating. You may even drop a couple of pounds.

8. Quit trying to control everything. Just let it be. No, not the Beatles' song, but let whatever happens happen. Just let it be just what it is. Someone cuts you off in traffic? Let it go; your getting angry won't change things, anyway. That co-worker that is a pain in the backside? Practice acceptance and empathy (there is a reason why they act the way they do). The weather is crappy? Focus on what is good about it. Let all that attachment to reactive, mindless emotions go. Yes, this takes practice, but life will be so much more peaceful if you are not trying to control everything. Truly. You have heard it, I am sure, and it is good advice:

9. Give up the judgment. When we judge others constantly, we think we are being judged equally. Put an end to the incessant judging and competitive thought-stream, and accept others as they are. We are all suffering, so practice kindness and acceptance (the opposite of judgement). Again, this takes practice, but a simple start is to catch yourself mid-thought and just pause. Give yourself some space to think about that person or situation in a different way. It is a practice worth cultivating.

These are some simple, non-threatening ways to move toward a more mindful lifestyle. Or, if you are so inclined, you could be more radical and actually move to a more peaceful circumstance, quit a job that is draining away your life, or enact self-respect by removing yourself from toxic relationships. But whatever you choose to do, or not do, the trajectory of your life depends upon you, and you alone.

The contrast was stark when we visited the competitive environment of our former town of residence. It made me realize that the longer we are immersed in the crowded, stressful competition, the more we are blind to the impact and influence that type of environment can have - anxiety, depression, and negative stress. But, there are steps we can take that don't cost anything and have priceless benefit. All it takes is intention and action. It is my wish that more will slow down, take the opportunity to become more aware, and live in the present moment.

May 2018 be peaceful and happy for us all!

Is blogging dead? Not for me.

2017-12-28T14:08:00.003-08:00

I have had this blog since 2007. At one time I had a handful of blogs, each with a different focus, and gave them all quite a bit of love and attention for years. Contrary to rumor, I never had much readership, and frankly, I was OK with that. I was getting to write and self-publish about what was important to me. I wasn't seeking to influence great swaths of the population. But, as my writing time was diverted from pithy blog posts to essays and research papers with deadlines, my posting fell. Last year, I actually deleted a couple of my blogs that were no longer useful to me, and have really let the dust collect on several others.

All of that history is fine, really. I was never seeking an income from my blogging activities - I really just wanted a place to say what I felt needed to be said, to record life, and to write. And, from my perspective, wasn't that what blogging was all about in the first place? The answer to that question is yes, as the actual word blog is short for web-log. A blog was a cyber-place to call your own, a place to tap out a brief journal-type entry written for personal edification and public consumption, mainly friends. Those personal and heartfelt blog posts spurred conversation and social interaction.

Blogging was a beginning of social media for the mainstream, as is evidenced by this history of blogging, "the early 2000s were a period of growth for blogs. In 1999, according to a list compiled by Jesse James Garrett, there were 23 blogs on the internet. By the middle of 2006, there were 50 million blogs ..." That is a lot of social interaction! As all things go, social media was on the fast-track to change, and Facebook, Twitter, and other social platforms quickly overshadowed the blogosphere. But, has it been so overshadowed that it is now dead?

Well, some may think blogging is dead or at least dying, but I think it is evolving for those who use it for income. There is still a space and place for focused blogs that generate income from clicks, links, and affiliate posts. As long as there is full disclosure, more power to 'em. Honestly, I am done reading blogs that are for the purpose of income - it makes me just feel like a target for marketing. I do think that perhaps so much focus on having a blog as an income generator may have sucked some of the life out of what blogs were initially about. For example, I followed three fashion blogs for a bit that are pretty much similar and formulaic: young women featuring rather upscale clothing, often in a capsule-type format, accompanied by shallow, kinda plastic commentary with lots of sponsored posts and affiliate links. I know blogs of this type have many followers, so really, who am I to judge? I am just saying that blogs with more genuine content and less marketing makes them feel more alive.

For me, that kind of authentic, personal blogging is not dead. I will always feel strongly that sharing our human experience is worthy of consideration and respect. I plan on keeping this blog alive as long as the Blogger platform is workable and available. I still greatly enjoy writing whatever is on my heart, playing with words, sharing photos, and commenting on issues and subjects that are worthy of discussion, despite posting sporadically. I wish more would share in this way, and perhaps they will again. Things change, and social media like Facebook and Twitter can be very divisive, unsatisfying, and shallow. I know I have lost more friends due to social media (as we experience it today) than I have gained, which seems at odds with its intent. Maybe there will come a time when we can leave cyber-competition, criticism, and name-calling aside in order to slow down and actually think about what we are saying and sharing. Perhaps blogging can be a way to do just that.

Thanks for reading.

A Christmas Complaint.

2017-12-25T17:51:00.000-08:00

[Warning: Christmas Day Rant]

I really try not to hate Christmas. Really, I do.

I would never want to begrudge another's festivities, especially if it is a meaningful and purposeful religious holiday. Or even if it is just a nice tradition for a family get-together. Whatever. I truly want to live and let live, to not judge another's choices, and to embody sympathetic joy for their happiness. BUT, I cannot help hating this holiday. Not because it is a Christian holiday, but because it seeps into absolutely everything. It is not a day, or even two - it is at least a two month slog where every restaurant, business, and office building has to have its own Christmas tree and repetitive holiday music.

Further, it bothers me that the religious festival that celebrates the birth of Christ has been co-opted for other purposes, namely marketing. Now, church attendance is just another thing to check off the do-list alongside the long list of presents to buy and wrap, pictures with Santa, and special decorations inside and out. The holiday has been overshadowed by activities that require money.

So, I am not here to meddle in the business of others, or point a finger at those just trying to have a nice celebration with their family. I guess what I really want to complain about is the incessant Christmas marketing. It is like someone just flips a switch in late fall that suddenly makes everything - food, clothing, household items, even cars - about 'preparing' for Christmas. I have been asked multiple times this 'season' if I am 'ready for Christmas' or if I have completed all my holiday shopping. My answer always depends on my mood - either yes, if I don't want to engage, or no, just to see their reaction. Perhaps it doesn't bother most, but my email also has been flooded with 'seasons greetings.' These messages are not for the purpose of sincerely wishing me well, but to get in front of my face and sell me their more of their product. What really grinds is the assumption that everyone celebrates Christmas.

FACT: Not everyone celebrates Christmas. And while it is nice to say 'happy holidays' as a nod toward tolerance to the different holidays celebrated around the world, and in different religions, it still makes a broad assumption that everyone is celebrating something this time of year. This is just not true.

I know it is strange, but my household doesn't celebrate any holidays. We are under no obligation, nor do we have a desire, to celebrate any religious festival. No, we are not Jehovah's Witness, or atheist, either. We claim no religious labels, and do not find festivals satisfying or needed in our lives. When we want to have a celebration or special meal, we just do it. When we want to give a gift, we give. We are so weird that we don't even do much for birthdays. And the world doesn't end. Go figure.

[Full disclosure: this year, I thought it would be fun to light our menorah and make latkes one night of Hanukkah. It was an interesting exercise of revisiting of old memories - some good, some not so much. Was it fun? Sure, but in this kind of weird, empty, eating-holiday type of way. Will we do it again? Probably not. We are no longer observant, and the festival holds little meaning beyond an interesting Bronze Age story. Besides, I had one heck of a time getting the cooking oil smell out of the house.]

Finally, I know my complaints of Christmas are not new, nor am I the only one complaining. Like I said, I don't hate Christmas as a religious holiday, just like I don't hold any animosity towards any other religious holiday. It's just that in its secularized form, it has been stripped of the depth and richness of a religious holiday. And then it gets shoved down our collective throats by marketers for a full two months. How can anyone not hate that?

Grateful Friday, 2017 edition.

2017-12-22T16:22:00.000-08:00

And....it's raining. Not so surprising for late December in the Pacific Northwest. But, it is grey and a little difficult to keep the spirits and energy up without a little push. Sounds like I need some gratitude.

To turn this around, I am grateful for rain. There, that's a good way to start. Without rain we couldn't have the oceans, lakes, and rivers that are so beautiful and healing for the soul. Without rain, none of us, including the animals and plants, wouldn't be here. So, I am most grateful. I especially like to be in our cozy little house by the ocean when it is stormy. Yes, I like that quite a lot.

I am grateful for our little town of Ocean Shores. I love not having to leave. I really enjoy living in a resort town, and that we are so close to a number of beaches and natural areas - most especially the one right out my office window. The wildlife is amazing to watch, and I am grateful for the seasonal migratory ducks, the songbirds, the river otters, the fish, and herons. I love to watch the seagulls and sandpipers, the pelicans diving at Damon Point, and the Canada Geese making the golf course their gathering place. And even though we have way too many, I am always interested to watch the deer, especially when the little ones are born. I am so thankful for the local flavor- the shop owners and neighbors - it is a friendly place to live, for the most part. Yes, there are a few down-sides, but I don't want to talk about politics.

I am grateful for teachers, young and old, good and not-so. I am grateful for those who have taken the time to share what they know, and for those who teach lessons without even knowing. I am grateful for all that I have learned from teachers, male and female, happy and less-than. I am grateful for teachers that have never seen my face or know my name, and for those that never want to hear my name again. I have learned so much for which I am grateful.

I am grateful for technology that allows me to study online, both free (edX) and not (Lesley University). I am grateful for wiki and google, and for apps, like Insight Timer and Recipe Gallery, that make my life easier and more diverse. I am thankful that I can still afford a mini-computer (aka my phone) that I can put into my pocket, and for all the information I can access at the sound of my voice.

I am grateful for the retreat 'sleeping bag' Chuck created for me from a cheap Walmart comforter. Now I feel like Linus.

I am thankful for products that actually deliver what they promise. I especially am thankful for Function of Beauty for the best shampoo on the planet, Lush's Olive Branch body soap (the only one I have found that doesn't cause me skin problems), and for our coffee percolator that recalls a more innocent time.

I am grateful for good books that keep my mind alive and active. We are reading Yuval Harari, Reza Aslan, Peter Frankopan, Joseph Campbell, Judson Brewer, Gregory Kramer, Jon Kabat-Zinn, and Deng Ming-Dao. Also, thankful for Lama Surya Das (my favorite teacher), Daniel Siegel, and Jan Chozen Bays for taking the time to write what they know. It is invaluable. I will never be the same.

I am grateful for my beautiful children who, as adults, are responsible, kind, and ethical. I am so proud of them and so thankful that they are all well, happy, loved, and safe.

I am grateful for Ryder Carroll and his bullet journal idea that has been an absolute lifesaver. I wish I had it when I was at PLU. How in the world did I do it? Oh yes...lots and lots of stickie notes!

Every Wednesday I get to have a heart-felt phone call with my dear friend, Kevin. I am so very grateful for these special times when she doesn't feel quite so far away.

I am grateful for Lisa, my ever-loyal and best girlfriend. We are still at it, trying to make a difference. I don't regret a minute.

But I wouldn't be breathing today if it weren't for Chuck. He absolutely rescued me, and for that I will never be able to express my thanks enough. He holds my hand, engages my mind, and is the lover of my soul. He is my best play-mate and pal. I never tire of his company - I am so very fortunate. I never take him for granted.

I am thankful for people who seek the truth, and for those who are not afraid to speak it.

I am grateful for music. For, without it, I would most surely die.

I am thankful that the new Star Wars movie was more than good.

I am thankful for friendly cashiers and a purring cat that curls up against my legs in the bed.

On top of all that, so many good things happened this year for which I am very grateful:

Alex and Mady got married!
I graduated summa cum laude!
Taylor graduated from HS and got a job!
I made it through my first semester of a Master's program!
Lisa got a much better class than last year!
We got to see the Terracotta Warriors!

But then comes the question: how is it that I have so much to be grateful for when there are so many that are desperately unhappy, anxious, lonely, depressed, and oppressed?
It doesn't seem fair.

But, here is what I know.
I didn't do much to get where I am right now...I just floated here.
Just like everyone else floating down the river of survival.

We get the tools and training we get.
Some get more than others.
We make a decision, and then the next,
all based on the information, resources, and desires we have at the time.
And we cannot possibly know where any of it will lead.
Sometimes it leads to freedom, sometimes it leads to chaos.
Sometimes it leads to fleeting pleasure that becomes a nightmare.
Ultimately, we get where we are because we were surviving.

We cannot disparage ourselves for our choices, because we did the best we could.
We can only be aware and learn the lessons those choices provide.
None of it is fair, but true happiness doesn't rest on fairness.
It rests on our perspective.

We can be grateful or resentful. Our choice.
We can be negative or hopeful. Again, up to us.

We can be open to new ideas and thoughts. Or not.
The world can be large and inviting, or a place full of people to fear.

We can label and divide, or see similarity and share in humanity.
We can hate and call it something else, but it is still hate.

We can believe that holy motives can justify cruelty.
We can choose to be complicit to the suffering of others,
and pretend it is their fault, or that they deserve it.
Or we can listen deeply and seek to understand and facilitate healing.

It is all about our perspective - about what we believe.
That perspective fuels our choices - either helpful or harmful.
And those choices determine where we find ourselves.
By changing our perspective, we can change where we are headed.

I am grateful for where I am today, even though many things have happened this past year that were divisive, scary, and challenging. It is a bit intimidating to look forward to 2018 and all that could come, but for now, I choose to be grateful.

Whatever comes ... let it come.

Whatever stays ... let it stay.

Whatever goes ... let it go.

If Things Had Happened Differently

2017-11-06T13:34:00.000-08:00

If things had happened differently, I would still be stuck in my craft room on South Hill. I would still be dealing with struggling, broken people, hearing the same old tired stories, and thinking the same old tired thoughts.

If things had happened differently, I would have gone to Barb’s funeral, I would have never sent that resignation letter, I would…might…still be sitting in the front row, still coordinating the festivals, and definitely be unutterably bored and stagnant.

If things had happened differently, I would not have grown. Or possibly, something more mundane could have happened…I could have never gone to school, never met some amazing professors, and never racked up so much school debt. I would have never realized I could achieve summa cum laude, learn great things, and think great thoughts. I might have never dreamed of working towards a masters, or dreamed of attaining a Ph.D. All of that would have never happened, if all that happened never did.

If things would have happened differently, I may still have been mired in clinical depression. If I had continued anti-depressants, my brain wouldn’t be as functional as it is now. I may have never lost those extra pounds or grown my hair long. I would have never traveled to Greece, walked in amazing places, or challenged myself to learning new languages. If I hadn’t made the choices I did, I would have never known love as deeply as I know now, or known the potential that was deep within me.

If things had happened differently, I wouldn’t be sitting looking at a beautiful sunny sky over a glorious Grand Canal. I wouldn’t have a sweet, sun-bathed office where all my needs are met. I wouldn’t be able to breathe. I wouldn’t be living - only surviving.

I am glad things happened differently than what was expected for me. I am glad that I took a chance, dreamed big dreams, stepped outside the rules, built a costume, did crazy things, and met fantastic and talented people. I am a better person because of it all. Honestly, if things had happened differently, I cannot really predict what would have happened, but I don’t anticipate it to be good, at least as good as it is now.

Now I get to breathe.

Now I have the privilege to learn, grow, and explore.

To laugh, and love, without judgement.

Now I am really living.

Kindness, A Poem

2017-10-18T13:13:00.000-07:00

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.

--Naomi Shihab Nye, from The Words Under the Words

Building a Committed Practice - A Reflection

2017-10-13T13:18:00.000-07:00

I am in week 6 of my first semester of a master's degree program in Mindfulness Studies. As part of the Theory class, the professor assigned reflection and analysis of our practice, as it stands now. This is my reflection.

I started setting time aside for a committed practice prior to the term starting. I knew it would be required, so I figured that I should just get a start on it as soon as possible. So, after our move, getting settled, and recovering from graduation, I got serious about meditation. I picked up my yoga practice again in earnest, since it had fell by the wayside in my sprint towards graduation. But, it wasn’t until we started class that it really sunk in that I was building something consistent and enduring, as opposed to a hit-and-miss hobby or comfort measure in times of crisis.

As I reflect on these past 6 weeks of meditative practice, I realize I have become comfortably addicted to what has become a morning ritual. Upon awakening, instead of lying in bed letting my mind wander toward panic, I embrace the dark quiet of my meditation area, light a candle, get settled, and breathe. Sometimes guided, sometimes not – it doesn’t really matter. What I am after is the stillness that comes over my body first, then my mind. The deeper the stillness, the more aware I become. Focused awareness, for me, is beautiful. I really am home in the present.

I have always been an aware person. Being highly sensitive and empathic, I have had to learn to tamp the receptors down – there is little benefit from sponging everyone’s emotions and motivations, especially while trying to figure out which are my own. Undisciplined awareness is like many radio stations all playing at the same time – absolute chaos. This is something I am still, and always will be, dealing with and working on. I have realized that meditation was the life ring I had been needing all this time. Yoga is wonderful, especially if it is practiced as a meditation, however sitting in stillness gives me a glimpse of the balance and equanimity that I struggle to maintain throughout the day.

No, it is not always easy. I have fallen asleep during body scans (sloth, perhaps). I have struggled with keeping awareness on my breath (or on my toe!) that may be attributed to restlessness. I have dealt with feelings of failure and other unsolicited emotions that have arisen. But, I am determined to “aware them lightly,” as Lama Surya Das encourages, and not attach to them or judge myself. The compassion I desperately want to give to others I am finally giving to myself. And not just when I am on the cushion, but in all areas of my life.

This is a process I am happy and willing to continue. I have no expectations of greatness, accomplishment, or accolades. I will just continue to sit and be grateful for the great pleasure and privilege it is to explore the inner secret garden of which I now have the key.

Over earth wind blows,

within the body breath flows;

cleansing timelessness.

Spirits, Deities, and Magic - A Conversation

2017-05-31T10:28:00.000-07:00

“You have to hear what I learned in history class yesterday.”

Lisa, my best friend and roommate, is always eager to hear what I learn in class. And sometimes she can take what I have learned to her 6^th grade classroom of screw-beanies. My four years of classes at PLU have given us much to discuss, to be sure.

Today, as we headed from the coast inland to the outlet mall for a little retail therapy, I was eager to narrate the lecture and discussion about animism, totemism, and shamanism, as it is a completely different perspective on religion than I had heard in my various former lives. Combined, Lisa and I have clocked multiple decades of religious experience, and this was definitely worth an animated conversation.

So, I started with stage 1, which is the best place to start. I explained that throughout history many peoples have believed that everything has a spirit – from teddy bears to volcanoes. We laughed as I recounted the classroom discussion – we are endlessly fascinated and informed of the culture by the perspective revealed by my younger classmates. It has been many years since I was twenty-something, and that is all I am going to say about that. Anyway, I continued, we all easily believe that all the things in the universe have a spirit, and noted how it is an easy way to explain natural phenomenon, as well as unexplainable events, such as earthquakes and such. Animism, such as that displayed by just about every living human, is the personification of objects, imposing human likes, dislikes, and emotions onto the breathing and non-breathing alike (such as cars, phones, stuffed toys, animals – even rocks can ‘cry out’). Further, all items in our environment, even the entire universe, possess a sentient spirit.

After commenting about how animism has often been discussed as so much unacceptable paganism in our past lives, I moved on to stage 2. Totemism, I enjoyed explaining, was picking one spirit or divine personage out of the entire universe to focus on, since no one could do justice to honoring the entirety of surrounding spirits. And then, I dropped the bombshell – Abraham of Old Testament fame, (as well as Akhenaten, the heathen Egyptian New Kingdom pharaoh), was simply picking one of a plethora of supernatural divinities to revere, in hopes of good fortune and prosperity. My sweet friend responded with the appropriate gasp of revelation. Could that be? Could it simply be totemism that prompted Abram to choose YHWH rather than Ba’al? And further, what if he would have chosen Ba’al? We both laughed at the thought of all the interpretation and homilies we have heard and studied over the years and marveled at the indignant outrage of disbelief those leaders would exhibit if they were presented with that information!

So, if animism is the concept that everything has a spirit, and totemism is choosing one out of many to honor (such as a spirit animal for the individual or group), then the final stage (3) is shamanism, I continued. The word alone causes immense repulsion by any good monotheist. As I explained that a shaman isn’t just one who performs magic (as we had been led to belief), but a mediator between individuals and their chosen divine, I was very aware that we were enjoying this way too much. To think of a priest, pastor, rabbi, or leader of any religion for that matter, as a shaman tickled us in a way that I almost felt guilty! The religious folk of my past would be turning inside-out at the thought, I am sure. I shared the class discussion prompted by my fellow classmate who self-identified as Sunni Muslim; he was a very good example of how the blood would quickly run out of the collective face of my former congregation at the thought of them sitting under a shaman. But, technically they are – they all are. There is no difference, in my view, between the voodoo Mambos (female priest) and the LDS Bishop – they are both assumed to possess a position closer to the supernatural and are sought for counsel, prayer, healing, and other assorted rituals specific to their belief system. So, would that be considered magic? Depends upon who you ask, I suppose.

Lisa and I freely pondered these things together while driving through the lush, leafy trees dotted with the golden sunshine that lined the 2-lane country road that cuts through several small towns on the way to our favorite shopping-mecca. Somehow, being out of organized religion has given us the freedom to contemplate history in ways often warned about, even forbidden, by most religious leadership and dogma. Their loss.

First Stickies of the New Year...Brrr!

2017-01-10T15:40:00.001-08:00

Yes, that poor baby is standing on what is usually liquid. It has been so cold this winter! The canal at our beloved beach house froze so much that we could throw medium sized rocks on the top and they would bounce!

Along with these cold temps, I started my last J-Term at PLU, and my last official religion course. Gosh, I have taken so many religion courses, but there are so many more I would love to take! But, alas, it is time to wind up this chapter of my life by intently studying medieval Christianity (a favorite of mine, really).

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Speaking of Star Wars, (and who isn't!), check out those sticky note pads! Cool, eh?

We went to see Rogue One: A Star Wars Story for the second time - love it! What a great back story to take you right into A New Hope (Ep. IV). I really resonated with the Jyn Erso character, and the blind martial artist/monk, Chirrut Imwe. I won't say anymore, and won't give spoilers, but I think if you like Star Wars at all, you would enjoy this one.

a sweet little Jyn to live in my speeder...

So much techy-love:

The app Bloglovin' - what, you haven't heard of it?? You really need to jump on that iPhone and grab this one. Then load it up with your favorite blogs. Pure technological love!

Another app I really love is Quartz - but, I have mentioned this one before. Check it out for a more 'controlled' news source. And, it will make you smile, too.

And, one more: Gaia online; this is not a freebie, but at $10/month, it is a good way to stay fresh with your yoga practice, and guided meditations, if you are into that. I just gave Cameron Gilley and some Yin Yoga a test-drive - pure love! You may love it, too.

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So, since it is so cold, and we are fighting the sniffles around here, how about some yummy soup? I found this tasty recipe (that is not labor intensive) called Detox Immune-Boosting Chicken Soup. It will be great cozied up with a blanket and a video...how about Ben Hur? That is our choice for tonite. Or perhaps something a little more medieval...like Cadfael? OK, tell me you love Derek Jacobi! I know, right? Loved him in I, Claudius, too. Highly recommend both.

Both Brother Cadfael and Claudius had it pretty easy when it came to clothing choices, to be sure. However, unless you wear a toga regularly or don a monk's tunic, that is not our lot. I am currently reading The Curated Closet, by Anuschka Rees - this woman is a genius. I firmly believe that every woman, and even some men, would benefit from this book filled with fashion wisdom. She won't be telling you what to buy, or what your 'capsule wardrobe' should consist of, but it is more of a workbook-type affair that leads you to your own personalized style and direction for dressing that is fun and stress-free. It builds wonderfully upon Marie Kondo's Magic of Tidying book, too. Another high recommend!

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OOOOOooooh, looky!

Isn't it great??

My honey has been working so hard on this display quilt for my graduation.

It is even better in person...

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And, one more sticky for my dear friend Kevin, who just was gifted a Vitamix:

Salsa Mexicano, the Liz-version

1/4 to 1/2 medium yellow onion (dependent on your taste)

2 cans stewed tomatoes (Mexican style, if available)

jalapeno peppers (optional, amount to your taste)

1 small can diced green chilies with juice

2 T white vinegar

2 T tomato paste

1 T dried cilantro

1 T chili powder

1/2 tsp kosher salt

black pepper, to taste

Place onions in food processor (I use a Vitamix) and pulse until just shy of puree. Add remaining ingredients and pulse until well mixed but still chunky. You may need to scrapes sides to integrate ingredients halfway through mixing. Do not over mix.

Bust out the chips.

And now, off to study.

Until next time...