arpita's

2011-04-15T22:29:00.000-07:00

new post

is there anything new to say?
so many versions of mind already speaking
it is unlikely there is anything original left.

mixing magic and myth - choosing it.
relationships with disembodied beings
and a few experiences not within many people mind boxes.

still - i am fed by spoons. others interpret my experience
and mostly i accept it - because then i can "know" something too.

which is more comforting than nakedly not "knowing" anything.

and the magic is more comforting than this life of decay
because maybe
something will be still there when i face death

maybe.

my mother's death hides behind the redbrick row houses that line street after street... and marble columns lie in ruins when she enters a room.

this is what she sees - her mind filling the blank spaces that her failing eyes leave wide open.

it is more comforting than not seeing anything at all.

publish post

salvation

2011-01-03T17:55:00.000-08:00

2011 and i sit with my contradictions.

my idealism these days is recorded on an old greasy paper - folded and tattered i carry it around everywhere... mostly private... and sometimes i will take it out its special hiding place in the midst of the everyday stream of thought, and i will pause within that moment's compromise and i die a little - the golden letters becoming a little more difficult to recall - their message becoming a little more obscured by the fold lines as the paper rubs against day to day living.

not brave to say - to hell with the job - instead - making my own hell - which is the place one lives when one has decided that the "best way" is not "the way it is".

i have sought to ease this discomfort and find justification for the breaths that i take, for the energy that i consume - so the story of me is not one of wasted skin and squandered time. and these days there is some refuge - back to the Vajrayana - and i understand better now - what refuge is and how i need it. and in the midst of it - of the sangha that i have done my best to avoid for ten years or more - stepping back into it last summer - and with it an experience of naked clarity seemingly independant of the ocean of stories of me and you and us.

although if it was not for me - i would not have recognized it;

and if it was not for us - there would have been no history of conditions to frame nor create the experience, no teaching, no practices, no prayer nor aspirations

and if it was not for you - i would not be writing right now.

a sangha of us - which now is broader and includes some women and girls in the Himalayan country called Bhutan... because while i was there - i was asked to take over a small charity in support of women seeking education within their own culture.

salvation - a nugget of worth to grasp onto - a way to see that perhaps, just maybe, the means of living in compromised idealism is at least partially justified by the end.... if i can just throw myself into it deeper...

in the meantime - making a wage through the suffering of many animals... via the hell holes of the "meat industries" ... taking the breast flesh of maybe one hundred chickens - skinned and deboned and wrapped in plastic and a waxed box - you open it and a raw scent wafts up - slimy white flesh is cut then breaded, or cut and fried or cooked with curry and cream...
and displayed with cut garnish - animals?? no animals here - just this beautified "meat". Look how nice it looks in the case.

Buy it and the store manager will be pleased and my hours won't be cut.

..... the paper with the gilded letters rips along the worn edges of the folds....

.... women in red robes recite prayers and eat simple meals of rice, barley and vegetables on the other side of the world...

not two, not one

2010-07-20T11:31:00.000-07:00

there is another perception... rather curious... the space in which there is perceiving ...... a vast and open container which contains one's own mind and all that is perceived by one's own mind... in which there is simply an unfolding.

and whatever is happening... a job to make money to pay rent or whatever - the actions of .... using my job .... cutting some raw meat or cooking or making meals where there is on one level - just me doing something ... and on another level - some things happening including me - relationships - where "I" cannot be separate from what "I" am doing and not separate to "what" I am doing or to the "thing" I am working on ...

a curious switching back and forth from a kind of awareness of this space in which all unfolds ... then like falling asleep back into a situation where all is seen only from the perspective of "I"...

but the times when that spacious awareness occurs there is a vibrancy and vividness and a falling away of internal trouble... and a kind of upwelling of empathy for all beings being self consumed with internal trouble... and a kind of awake noticing - the light in the eyes of others - that spark of wakefulness which they don't notice in themselves... and a kind of curious deep seated appreciation and surprised delight at all of the individual expressions - physically, mentally, culturally, emotionally - thousands of people who walk into the grocery store where i work - with such solidified notions of there own "I"ness - but at the same time - are contained in that same not separate vastness...

all of these forms - people and what they buy and what they eat and what they do and what they have and see and hear and touch and feel and all those relationships that occur where there is no conscious awareness - all interdependant - arising together... so interdependant that the sense of a separate "I" with my own money buying my own beef steak seems to be a stranger concept than conceiving of a oneness sort of concept...

separateness and nonseparateness... both concepts flawed... incomplete....

not two, not one.

moments from today

2010-04-08T18:04:00.001-07:00

in the course of an ordinary sort of day - there seems to be so many stories...
and here is one

just as it is - now - the old pear tree is blooming white clusters - mottled with sun, and shadow ... the wind is cold and blossoms cling to the haggared branchlets ... it was like that - the sun and the clouds and the cold wind ... walking down by the populars - you can smell the resin - do you know that smell? pungent and sweet it is carried on the air - more so on warmer days - but even on this cool one ... there is the witness of that sense of smell ... how remarkable that is ... anyway - the populars are budding out - the tender leaflets are greeny-golden ... and as they grow out toward the warming days - the resinous sheaths that protected them as they were buds fall away ... they are the source of the aroma of the populars... that resin... sticky and pungent - it absorbs into your skin when you touch it... in some other age and in some other place - they would make oil infusions with this kind of resin - and they would call it Balm of Gilead ... and here on the pacific coast in some other time - the natives would mix it with animal fat and use it on their skin for aches ...
these few days - when the scent of popular is on the air it is the time to collect the sheaths ... and i knelt down in the wet ground - grass still short - and the leaves from fall still decaying ... and there is the patch of wild strawberries i see every year - but by the time the berries are ripe, the grass is long and the brambles have wound their way through the chaos of the wild ground so it takes a long time to find them... but today - it is the resin i want. from the tiny sheaths that have fallen to the ground - i pick them up, one by one... plucking them out of the blades of grass and last year's leaves while the little black spiders skitter around... soaked knees - cold but not minding... fingers get numb from the wind and very sticky - with layers of resin building up on them ... like the way pollen clings to the legs of bees in June... then standing and so very carefully twisting off the sheaths from around the leaflets - leaving them intact to grow green in summer sun then age to golden yellow - as if they had captured the essence of the sun only to fall to the ground to rot brown .... home for spiders and food for the tiny creatures that live despite my ignorance of them...

forgive and remember

2010-02-26T19:44:00.000-08:00

i used to think that it was not possible to forgive without forgetting... that there would always be a subtle (or not so subtle) block to intimacy and open relational discovery because forgiveness seemed incomplete... so the relationship would be conditioned due to past transgressions - habits of thought, reaction, suspision etc established as the way of "seeing" in the relationship...
and the lording over of " i have forgiven you" as a form of positioning.

being in a relationship right now - where there has been plenty of forgiving without forgetting - i see how the relationship has developed...and certainly some of what i say in the first paragraph has indeed happened. yet - i find that over the course of time, as i choose to stay in this relationship, i see a different dynamic... where there has been the forgiveness without the forgetting - but the egoic charge of HOLDING ON to being higher/better/right has fallen away. so there is the very clear seeing of the act and the actors... and there is the opportunity to see quite clearly - the propensities/habits etc of my partner and of myself, both historically and in the present.

so, there is, a maturation... no rose colored glasses of "being only in the now" ... because remembering is part of discernment and gained wisdom... part of seeing how things actually are.

and in the process of active intimate relationship - often there arises action that is short sighted or self serving - and some of it warrants apology and forgiveness... and eventually sometimes relationships are changed dramatically... but each relationship provides experience - which is taken to other relationships... hopefully, there is a learning about oneself, a deepening awareness so that intimacy and fullness of experience can be accessed.

currents

2010-01-16T22:13:00.000-08:00

perhaps it is folly - but i like the cycles of the moon... and i mark changes with new moons and full moons. there was a new moon just the other day - one of those moons that eclipses the sun... and i could make some fluffy sounding statement of how i feel the moons... and the tides that mark them. yet, i know i do feel them in the most visceral ways - my woman's moon cycle always lining up with the full or new moon - switching from one to the other if there was some sort of event to trigger the change ... like a ceremony.
i guess my body has it's own sensitivity... like my three pregnancies - when i knew i was pregnant the moment the fertilized egg settled into the wall of my womb... i felt the cascade internally all three times - something i cannot describe - an internal whoooosshhhh...

this last new moon i felt some tugs and tensions... i read a post or two from a forum i belonged to - when quite suddenly it was time to lay it down. there was a particular post that triggered it... written by someone perhaps quite sweet and naive ... but i couldn't bare to engage it... so leaving it for others. i really like some folks on that forum - and maybe a few of them will read this.

and concurrently - that same day on the new moon - i found out that my buddhist teacher from Bhutan is coming to where i live... and i have not seen him for years... and that there is a retreat i could go to without losing weeks of work, without spending thousands of dollars travelling etc - something i can afford to do... it would be very challenging on many levels - but i need a challenge i think - to rattle this little life, shaking things loose, opening to surprise.

tentatively i will go to that retreat in late spring. it will be quite different from the last time i did a retreat with this teacher. that was about twelve years ago in the mountains of Colorado... and i was naive and hopeful and full of awe of this exotic Vajrayana path that surprisingly landed right in front of me... i think that is a strength of mine - engaging surprise... it took me to Bhutan after that - and oh my are there stories... then my mind cracked open and all my unresolved fears coming up to the surface where i could see them... one by one - for a decade... a process that still continues.

which brings me to tonight.

and looking in - i feel a tug... a sadness. in my living, and in my relating i want to dive as deep as i can... even with the fallout... with the changed relationships... shaking things up... diving deep shakes things up. this i know. and then there is the balance - of the relationships - blood and bone cording through me to my mother, through me to my daughters. those who, by virtue of their understanding of themselves and their worlds cannot plunge with me. so staying at the surface of things for them... and for me... for the depth that i remember from my own womb...

oh - it's a mishmash of thoughts - but they run in the currents - running through the generations of mothers and daughters that is deep in my psyche. i plunge for myself and i plunge for them as well.

resting

2009-06-05T11:17:00.000-07:00

i read a paper recently -
Avoiding the Void

the paper suggest the core fear is not the fear of death - but the fear that self already does not exist in this moment

… but really - i don't think that is the fear that drives most people through their live.
i think it is actually, the fear of death that drives people through many decisions, reactions etc.

every person, does indeed have a sense of self… even if that sense of self is framed in non-dualistic terms of arising from previous conditions (thereby having no independant existance) - it STILL is a sense of self… albeit, an evolving one… and that sense of self continues to have experience of struggle, suffering, joy, freedom … “you” or “i” have those personal experiences - we know what it feels like.

but most people don't talk or think in this way. they are simply them”selves”… separate and in relationship with all sorts of other “selves”. and so, always aware of their separateness - death is the “enemy”… the end-of-“me”.

as far as the samskaras etc - those shadows of habit, propensities, reactive tendancies that apparently exist as a “stream” independant and deeper than the living story of self that is remembered only in body - yet also individual in nature travelling through the bardos of existance, one body after another … i understand that conceptually and i find that the concept abates my own personal fear of death, and so therefore, the concept pleases me…

but i have no PERSONAL wisdom or knowing or the existance - in other words - i do not remember the inbetween bardos and i do not definitely remember other lives - although sometimes i can IMAGINE that i do… but - i doubt if that is the same thing…

really - all i know for sure is my “self” as “i am” in this body, with this conditioning … and when death comes… i have no idea.

what is the best that i can do?

i realize my “self” is evolving and changing in every moment - and therefore i am not so attached to what that “self” is.

and there is the animation, the livingness of life under that.

so, i can tune into that and not worry so much about my"self". It isn't a matter of avoiding my"self" or diminishing my"self" - because it is always integrally “me”.

but, in simple resting, the laying down of the constant struggle - my"self" does not evaporate or dissolve in oneness, but simply rests in “it's” natural place.

and so, to live like that - through life - then death will arise anyway, inevitably, and to meet death also in that same way … resting with my"self" in it's natural place… that's my plan.
- to rest with death… as i rest with life - not worrying about what will arise so much.

so many words to describe… therefore so many words to misunderstand.

do you know what i mean by rest? it does not mean to do nothing. it does not mean to not make choices. it does not mean that there will not be challenges and responsibilities.

it means a fuller settling into existance, not avoiding conditions that arise - including impending death…

mmm… a metaphor for rest
- is like a leaf - that, in its own natural place arises from the knowledge of the tree in winter rest - and then buds and sprouts and grows and carries out it's leafy purpose, it's greenness making food from sunlight …
then in the fall drops and falls to the ground and elegantly decomposes and becomes the earth that feeds the tree … and bugs … and fungus …

...that's what resting is… like the existance of the leaf - from it's apearing through to it's disappearing …

except with us - we have mind… and so we must learn to rest with that as well… mind being one of our tools AND integral aspect of our"self"

- like the greenness is both a tool AND integral aspect of the leaf.
the greenness is the leaf. the leaf and tree uses it... and is inseparable from the tree and from the earth that the tree arises from, and from the seed of origin and the seeds that arise yearly from the fertilized blossoms... and the leaves that arise year after year - and the even the sunlight and the water ... the bees that pollenate, the birds that perch, the ivy that grows up, the fungus that decomposes, the man that cuts and makes something out of wood, or eats the fruit...

and so it is, with us. with our"selves" intact - yet changing... yet mortal. self is mortal. mind is mortal - yet exists - different in every moment... until self does not exist. so that - is the key to our peace of mind... resting with death... and making that the centerpoint of life.

does a leaf struggle with it's inevitable death... i don't think so... but i don't know for sure...
and are we, with bodies of cells and structure... are we that different?

i don't know for sure, but i suspect that a life lived from the perspective of rest is full and deep ... and that death, when it arises, will just arise.........

weaving

2009-05-15T22:09:00.000-07:00

tonight i weave my myth - at the place where i live. with the dishes and the laundry. soaking in a tub of hot water and washing my hair with a bar of simple soap. i could have gone to the forest, where the sweat lodge is.. and i could have sat by the fire with some friends listening to their jokes, perhaps singing cree songs around a large drum...
but tonight - i chose to be still rather than in immerse myself in contrived versions of spirituality.

weary - of it.

of the minds as they collide with each other over points of attachment... weary of the songs and how they are sung - and the wishful thinking messages of love and light.

and here alone - not that still after all - with the whirring of the fridge compressor, the electric hot water and the internet connection and the food from all over place, the car and the gasoline, and all of the other cars with gasoline... and the clothes that must be washed in the washing machine... the uniform of the blue shirt and a tie for work, with black steel toed shoes ... and rows and rows of packaged goods that charade as food... all carefully marketed for maximum profit.

apparently there is a book - and the title of it is something like - wherever you are - there you are. and i was just in the middle of it - of here i am. just like i was last night - when i was at the sweat lodge site - in the lodge with other people, making a prayer and listening to prayers and feeling the heat and hearing the rush as the steam rises from th hot stones - there in the dark ...

all the thoughts - all of them that make up me. and in the tub - i immersed my ears under the water and after the fridge stopped its cycle - i could hear my heart beat... over and over and over. and with a towel, washed in the washing machine - drying myself and looking in the mirror at my face.
there i am. a rented house with pictures, and counters and some furniture. a lot of cups and things - all second hand - but still - it seems so excessive. the other day i spent hours scrubbing the kitchen cabinets - i have them open - no doors and i use glass mason jars to store food, and tea and herbs and things like that... a tv downstairs and a lot of stuff. old dusty stuff. and the alter i have - well, i have two... with little statues and crystals and malas and ceremonial articles which i have collected along with my thoughts of who i am. and there is sage i picked last summer, and rose petals i have dried, and a freezer that keeps last summers blackberries frozen... along with perogies and buffalo sausage and salmon and frozen pizzas...

and all of it seems excessive.

and who would i be if there was no power to run a washing machine, if there was no gasoline to power the car or the trucks of food that stock the shelves, if there was no electric heating... and if i must remain dirty and grimy for awhile with unlaundered clothes - if it is summer and water is scarce - then who would i be?

and rather than a couple, or a small family living in a house with a fridge and electric lights and base board heating - if i had to put aside my privacy and live with others in the same building - if i had to share resources, if i had to become accustomed to the changes in temperature without a working thermastat - if i had to physically work hard to grow and gather food, then who would i be?

a female person, with a sore back and a very weary mind... weary of the world. sad for my daughters... when they are not sad - but live with an undefined ill ease knowing at some level things are just not right. there in retail stores with merchandise marketted, or so carefully marketted for girls between the ages 14 and 20... they like it.

so, weaving my story tonight - i must because i cannot escape myself and my place in the story as it unfolds.

measure of worth

2009-03-29T21:55:00.000-07:00

what is the measure of your worth?

is it the number of friends that seek you out?
is your value measured in the words of admiration
mirroring back something you need to hear?
and when the mirror is shattered and the shards mix with the sand on the shore
then what of value then?
will the shards remain sharp
and cut the feet of children who walk barefoot?
or will they break into the tiniest pieces of sparkle
that play with the light as it shines through the water…
waves on shore that tumble and roll
churn the grains at the shore…
in comes the sea - and out…
in comes the sea - and out…
i am the shards in the sand,
tossed and worn to weathered speckles,
mixing with stone and shell
tumbling with the waves of the shore.
in comes the sea - and out…
let me float beyond the breakwater
where the waves are huge and lick the sky with salty tongues.
the air fills my lungs mixes with my salty blood
like the air mixes with the sea.
and perhaps that is all that i am.
and perhaps that is enough.

christine arpita 2009

death as...

2009-03-27T21:36:00.000-07:00

with mother for a day or two
and what did i learn? –
that death is still the enemy.

in my mother's house. big with a lot of stuff. clothes, dresses and flowered prints that are shoved in a walk-in closet so crammed that you walk-on the fashions of past decades... the well worn and seldom worn strewn together mixing the years of cotton and polyester... kept and held precious because death is still the enemy...
we don't talk about the clothes or the heaps of dust and dirt laden remnants of accumulation that are behind all cupboard doors, piled in corners of used and unused rooms....
not talking about any of that - instead – slowly getting in and out of the car to go to the store and buy more cookies and chocolate.to eat while reading the newspaper... and instead – slowly walk up the stairs, past the walk-on closet to the bathroom where an arsenal of pills await to treat the various pieces of the body... treating the stomach as something apart from the rest of her... and of course - the pain killers... so to live another day without the ache in the back from the years of choosing to live in the chair... reading the paper, eating some cookies ... just finding comfort in believing life is just like that... the news, the food in the grocery store, the "them" and the "us", the flowered prints and dresses no longer worn – but kept ... you must keep it all ... to forget about that ... you know ... the enemy....

all the rest... comings and goings of ideas... a lot of popular ideas about Obama, about a recession, about India and China and other places that "experts" tell out about in the news – to formulate an opinion that is not "yours" ... rather – a kind of spoon feeding... because that is what my mother does... eating in that way... eating what family and culture has fed her... food, buying food, too much food and stores with other merchandise and the ideas...

but when you are ninety – you know – you MUST know that it will all soon vanish... that you will soon vanish...
which is why death is still the enemy.

a few days with my mother at her house – and we went shopping together – and then i went shopping alone.... because i have been looking at what people where... looking around at the jeans... the uniform of the culture... and i just don't feel like wearing that.

so i went to a second hand clothes store and some of the proceeds – after paying staff and rent and business expenses... goes to the salvation army... so for a few dollars i can dress in a dress... or a flowered print. saying to the world "HELLO" this is ME in this dress or flowered print. because it pleases me... because... it's a little different and colorful and not the jeans... hello, hello, i am unique.... because i dress in loud colors! ... shall i instead dress in jeans and black pull-over sweaters and walk in various kinds of sneakers or black shoes? death doesn't care.

so i shall wave to death in my flowered print blouse and death shall sway in the folds of my dress as i walk each step... and i shall keep some things for awhile ... and let go of other things... flowing into change... changing clothes and thoughts ... keeping it light. mulch a new garden, walking through the seasons – in my dress, or sneakers and black sweater...

and i wonder , if i am ever ninety – if my daughter will visit me in my house, if i have one and what will she see of my life in the corners of the rooms? will she see death as my enemy? or will she see death as my teacher?

2009-03-27T18:55:00.000-07:00

this post originally in reply to Your "Enlightenment" is a Group Activity by Mike at The Peaceful Self.com

hey mike...such an interesting contrast in tone between this post and the last...separation being (in my view) the tone of the last post and no separation being the tone of this... the spiralling around and the seeking of finding words within the limitted ideas that we can express to express something that seems to be .... right there.

the awake sees the awake in all phenomenon... human or otherwise - but awake and asleep are simply in the natural abiding of arising phenomena... oh sheesh - that sounds ... so buddhist.... but that comes closest to me - in the seeking to describe what is just ... right there.

if one awakens - then the whole world is awake... whether that world is awake, or asleep, whether that world is peaceful or suffering. the world is never separate.

in Mike's words that i paraphrased "...in order to awaken, you must desire to see others awaken... what you give, is what you get. "

that is, i suppose, the transcedance of separate self. (transcending being INCLUSIVE of separate self as well as seeing "beyond" that perspective of separate self.)

sometimes it seems to me that we, as humans, are actually one being - all together. we, as cells of the collective human being. and the warring we have with each other seems like the cells of one organ attacking the cells of another... a being that stabs itself over and over...

and the entire being of the world - at least the surface of this earth - this tiny brittle mantle of life that floats of a molten bed of extreme heat and pressure ... on which our self invested dramas unfold in the minutest periods of time ... and meanwhile the continents continue to drift... tectonic plates change - ice ages come and go...oh... how odd, how odd.

anyway - embodied beings,be them human or not, they predate. one eats the other. in human terms - that means separate selves suffering. perhaps that is simply the nature of separate selving... as a lady bug eats an aphid.

perhaps it will always be so - until the eggshell thin earth mantle cracks and many or all of us are swallowed up.

...in the meantime...we may seem to be alone - but we are never never alone... we are quite practically inseparable from the environment, from other humans and from other forms of life... and i don't speak "spiritually" i speak very very pragmatically. we are life - already - collectively.

life, by it's nature is just life living in constantly changing forms. perhaps to "awaken" is to simply see that. what a strange ramble this turned out to be. strange enough to post. i think i'll post it on my blog and refer to your posts mike... ok?

deeply generous

2009-03-21T21:53:00.000-07:00

the deeply generous don't know anything about giving. energy simply flows through as a matter of course – because nothing stays the same – there is a birth and death of every thing. to be stingy is in opposition to this flow. to keep and horde and even to long for something is like trying to hold back the water as it responds to the pull of the moon.

a generous spirit holds on to nothing very tightly. even thoughts. there is always an opportunity to listen to another view, to have enough internal space that is not cluttered up with straight-jacket idealism open to all possibilities - including to be wrong or misinformed or to have incomplete understanding.

generosity is more like openness – the allowing of space. easy to smile. seeing the light in everything – just quite naturally – no need to make a spiritual scene – showing off generosity – wearing it like a loud suit... no need to think of yourself as generous. no need to even realize you are giving... that is the deepest kind of generosity we are capable of... because there is no sense of "me" giving "someone else" something. no – it is more like water flowing over stone – because that is the nature of water.

it is good to practice this. practicing kindness. practicing compassion. practicing generosity. these three ideas embody the same energy. this is beautiful, and also this is imperfect - because "I" have a notion of "you" and "my" knowing "you" is conditional. Our understandings may not be the same. Our fears and desires may not be the same. Our view of things may not be the same. so, for this imperfect generosity – when "I" give something to "you" it is important to release your attachment to the gift and to the giving... because what may be wonderful to you may be entirely the wrong thing for the other.

the deeply generous don't know anything about receiving either – but they do receive. Life flows to and through them – and to it all – they say "thankyou" : gratitude being a position of openness toward both giving and receiving.

most of us are not free beings. we have many relations and conditions to our lives. but the practice of generosity without attachment to the idea of it helps to loosen things... create space – points toward freedom – which is seen to be quite insane by most. crazy women and men no longer attached to security, no longer attached to accumulation of things and ideas, no longer attached to identity... they may or may not have those things – but it flows through them – like water flows over stone... because that is the nature of water.

inside admiration

2009-03-20T09:43:00.000-07:00

admiration, for me, is a word that gives a relative context to the state of openness.

when i feel that sense of openness in relation to another - defined as admiration - i look first, to see if there is any envy mixed with it…(which is a mental notion of comparison when ego looks to reinforce itself)

when admiration is free of envy and is simply infused with appreciation (another one of those words that gives relative context) - then that is, for me, that flowing pulsating life force energy that arises…

this energy, in it's naked state is not actually directly toward another person - it is a state that is simply being experienced … that has nothing to do with a sense of “me” or “other".

as relative beings we must attach words… and context. so admiration, appreciation, love, empathy, compassion, gratitude, wonderment, devotion, generosity… all of these words, for me, describe exactly the same feeling… - i am talking about the visceral feeling of the experience and NOT the definition of the word in relational context - an experience of rarified openness, innervation, aliveness... and using words, as i must to describe the experience that has no concept attached, i refer to that as a primary experience... (even "neutral" or "negative" feelings such as surprise, fear, grief - to look at the feeling of it before it is named and judged)

then as the experience is noticed, it is immediately defined and given context to relational experience - using one of those words i mention above - reinstating the sense of "me" and "you" which is secondary to the primary experience.

so in my experience, with admiration - the gift of it is not directing it toward another person, the gift is simply opening… being that open being.

sometimes (often) this openness is mixed with mental contractions of envy, thoughts of inadequacy… where there is a sense of comparing… that fosters a further sense of separation - of the "me" and the "you.

and sometimes there is so much mental contraction and simple mental distraction that the state of openness is covered over and not noticed…

for me, i see that all people have this same experience of openness, but is triggered and immediately defined according to relational context… so admirable qualities are conceptual agreements… and when there is a person that resonates with our personal ideals - then that energetic openness is experienced… so people are admired for different reasons by different people.

so the conceptual notions are fortified… and my ego and your ego are strengthened according to the agreements made about what an admiral quality is.

that's not a bad thing. that's the way it is.

but it is helpful, for me anyway, to be aware of those relational dynamics - to see how my own ego fortifies itself with relationships... and if there is a goal at all for my life - it would be to be open to this rarified openness of living life regardless of subjective contexts and relational conditionings and transient agreements- to live with this primary quality without covering it over with conditions that limit the view and opportunity to live a full life.

it's spring now... and the seeds in the ground know it... and they respond to the seasonal conditions with the potential of what they are. life unfolds. splendour.

the value of living

2009-03-13T19:28:00.000-07:00

– cut and paste from somewhere else in the magic world of the electronic jumble of metal and plastic in this little computer sitting on this little table... because the first time i wrote this – there was some sort of internet glitch – and ..."poof"... gone...
which fits in quite nicely really – with what i would like to say...
a little talk about the value of life.
which is not something much to do with thought – but thought is the only part of us that is the least bit interested in value.

so using a flowing sort of thought, still conditioned by my own life experiences – which is the only way i can talk about value (or anything else) i would say that value is subjective and relational... and therefore is subject to change as the flow of relations changes...as they inevitably do...

we have changing ideas of value – of "education" and "morality" or even the more nebulous "sense of self worth"... which is based on a loose set of more or less culturally acceptable agreements...

sometimes an idea of value has outlived it's day – yet is still perpetuated by generations who have been taught to become addicted to their own way of thinking... and sometimes an idea of value changes as the relational qualities of the culture changes...

but regardless – as long as the idea of value remains there is the "measuring up"... of one thing having more value than other – but the truth of that is always always subjective, conditional and relational... but as long as you know that – then living in the relational world, as we do – can become a dance in which we become active rather than passive participants ... we dance through our choices – rather than being herded by the group mind that has been accepted as "truth"... to the day we die – when these notions of value – whether than be the group's idea – or our own unique idea, along with all of these other etherial thoughts we call mind... just pops like a bubble ... or the connection between mind and body is cut and ...poof.... gone.

so were any of those thoughts real? were any of them true? and what happens to mind after death – i surely do not know... i have been taught some things – but that is not the same as knowing.

so what do i actually know about the value of living... is this. that living is simply living... but much grander than just you living. it is in the breathing – long draws of air and feeling the pleasure of that ... the feeling of a pebbled path on bare feet... take a drink of water – from a stream... or from the tap and you are the water as it makes it's chaotic journey around and around the world... eat something that grows in a garden or something from a plastic wrapped cardboard box and you are not just you eating... you are the earth itself nourishing the earth... you are the sun radiating energy to the sun... and you are that from which the sun arose... you are all the union of your mother and your father – and their mothers and fathers... you are all the sum of all relationships in this very moment... relationships of those you know – and those you do not know – like the men and children that pick the coffee beans... and those who cut the trees for the packaged foods... and all of the factors, of body and mind... of politics and educations and idealogies that led up to this very moment... that is what you are....
but all of that is so transient... even the sun and that from which the sun arose...

so how can we speak of value when we should all be gasping into total amazement and wonderment! treating each part of this rich living with the upmost respect and reverance! for we can be aware of all of this... and perhaps that is the value of living.

2009-03-09T21:53:00.000-07:00

seven silences

silence of earthly silence
silence of chaos
silence of thought
silence of non-thought
silence of unearthly silence
silence of source
silence of no-thing

first there is quiet on earth... when no one speaks, when no cars speed past on busy streets, when the ocean is still at slack tide, when the air is breezeless...
then in the midst of this apparent silence maybe the subtler sounds can be heard... the sound of the heart pumping blood, the in and out of breathing – noticing and learning deeper about ourselves...

then there is busy city sounds, the crying child, the television commercial, the loud car stereo, of spiritual searching, the cheers at a game, a bomb exploding, a strong emotion, athletes competing, buying and selling, billions of different stories all played out simutaneously...
then, in the midst of all that activity there can be the opportunity to recognize the stillness of focused attention, and of the common-ness of embodied experience...

then there are the times when there is much thinking, about past and future things... about a problem or a possible scenario, or the dialogue when learning something in a school, or in a book, gabbing and gossip, and joking and planning to tell a joke...
then, in the midst there is the opportunity to be present with all the thoughts – seeing how they consume time and energy and how they shape our reality...

then there are times when there is no thinking, a moment of being startled, or confused, or short-circuited, or so exhausted that the usual dialogue is interupted,...
then in the midst there is an opportunity to see that you are not your thoughts or anyone else's thoughts.

then there is the silence beyond the gravitational pull of the world, beyond the four elements of earth and our earthen bodies... the space between the planets and galaxies, the space between electrons...
then in the midst there is the opportunity to experience space that infuses form

then there is the silence of source as the potential for all that arises through what is arisen in the moment, gone as soon as it has arisen... gone... gone....gone.... arising and arising and arising – the wellspring that is always there...
then in the midst of that there is the opportunity to know yourself and all you have as transient and inseparable from the source

then there is silence of no-thing – the cradle of all concepts, of form and emptiness of stillness and arising – of which no-thing, no-thing at all can be expressed.

2009-03-09T09:35:00.000-07:00

many of us are saying the same sort of things about ego, awakening etc.
yet make many choices out of habit - doing the same sort of things we have done for years.
sometimes there is nothing else to say...
no more clever parodies
no more enlightened or intelligent dialogues...
and the only thing that seems worth writing about
is the beauty of the leafless walnut tree
its dark intricate branchings covered in a layer
of soft white...
a late winter snow falls and quiets the landscape.

artistry

2009-03-04T15:39:00.001-08:00

artistry

there seems to be a lot of talk about the importance of creativity and art. and today i am wondering what is artistic, what is creativity.
it seems like people separate creativity from the rest of the living of their lives... and that is what i do not understand.
some people have natural talent – they have clear bell tone voices and the sensitivity to express themselves through a song.
and the way it is done is quite conditioned – a woman singer from a Lakota tradition singing the shrill high tones of a ceremonial devotional song... her heart expressing through her culture... and a trained operatic singer taught to develop a strong vibrato so that the notes she sings is an oscillating series of tones ... and both forms of singing so foreign to each other, both forms of singing requiring either a non-judging ear or a conditioned ear ... both forms considered artistry in their own cultural contexts. then a painting, a sculpture, a photograph, a garden, a bouquet, a carefully prepared meal – all the things artists do to - arranging forms into other forms... carving away, or building up, or combining into something unique, or at least different to what was there before... according to some inner plan, or simply according to what arises... creativity.
but isn't that just simply living – what is done in every moment?
perhaps it is because i am not particularly talented in any way – but i see artistry, not in something created, but in the attention to what has been created, or is being created in the moment... so there is the attention of the creative act of painting ...then, eventually perhaps, there is the painting – the creation. – which is almost secondary... and then there is the sharing of it – sometimes anyway – so when someone sees the creation – a relationship is formed. but the acting of seeing – the attention of regarding the creation is also artistry... the sensitivity of seeing, of hearing, of tasting, of touching, of relating... the creation – is simply the vessel by which attention is applied... the attention of the creator, the attention of the one who shares...
do you understand what i am saying?
the combining of these words – another form of artistry – but words themselves are not the artistry – it is the attention that is the artistry... the attention of the one writing – and the attention of the one reading... the words are simply the vessel...
as is a song.
or a book.
or a movie
or a dance
or working a simple job
or planting some seeds
every single action can be this vessel... it doesn't have to be flashy – it doesn't even have to be noticed or categorized as art. for everything is simply the movement of energy and form in time and space... just simply relationships... and whether art or not is not that relevant... and strangely, even if it not overtly shared – a solitary dance in your own house, a unique set of tones you choose to sing when no one is listening, the sweeping of the floor and folding of the clothes, the listening of someone else singing a unique set of tones... the artistry is in the attention... not in the act.
this is the art of whatever is living, whatever is dying, what whatever is being made or what is decaying, loud and brash, or silent ... the artistry of presence.

innocent eyes

2009-03-03T09:13:00.000-08:00

to see quite clearly – with these innocent eyes that will not make a judgment about you according to how you look, or what you say or believe, or even on what you have done. for this is a new moment and neither of us has seen this moment before.

but i also do not see what you may want me to... your carefully constructed sense of self means little to me... it is as transparent as my own - the game of "me" that encompasses our attention so.

i still see – but i have not made a personal investment in what i see... and so, my seeing is neutral and clear... no investment at all, not even to a notion of seeing clearly...

because maybe i don't and i just don't know that...

so don't believe me... don't make that investment in me... because my "me" is inconsistant and it flucuates and sometimes i say all sorts of crazy things... each moment the words come differently, depending on many circumstances...

and your understanding – your "you" – may not understand the words of my "me"... and that is the way it is with concepts...

which is why the seeing of you is innocent... quite impartial of "me" – or "you".

inspiring

2009-02-27T18:06:00.000-08:00

when a man with the shell of grunt and gruff
shows his softness and shares a precious tear
after his daily visit with his wife who has alzheimers…

when the uncommon soul
lives her words with such conviction
yet has no words of judgement for those who do not…

the poet spinning thoughts into textured yarns
then weaving them with an alchemist’s vision
to the experience inbetween the words...

to the natural world -
in it’s magnificent resilience and breath taking complexity -
does not judge any part of itself… including us.
it just is...

to the most the most simple things
a shaft of golden light
the currents in the sky
the first flower blooming in late winter
a smile
or a kind word said - without any particular motive...

even this body that breathes and breathes...
with a heart that beats and beats...
and a mind…
and opposing thumbs…

extra-ordinary

(arpita 2009)

2009-02-27T11:37:00.000-08:00

i pluck at the wanting of something else
other than what is -
the making of time...
this present moment of discontent
and the projection of "something better" in the future.
that is the root of my suffering, my debt and my sin.
(arpita 2008)
________________________________________

while spending time in Hawaii someone told me that in the very old culture... before the whites, even before the arrival of the tahitians - that in their teachings there was only one sin... and that was "regret". now, mind you - the person who told me that was not native hawaiian so this statement could be quite untrue - and even if it is true, the cultural context of this statement, which could be very different from our current cultural context - is unknown... regardless - there seems to be some wisdom there... to me, anyway.
i am thinking that the "regret" referred to is of the lingering kind. if one makes a mistake, regrets it in the moment, learns from it, makes energetic ammends, then it is finished - and there is no more need to use valuable energy in feeling "regret". however, if one plays the scene over and over... for years, for decades even - then awareness is habitually pulled into those thought patterns - leaving no mental space for other thoughts, and drawing attention away from what else is happening, missing opportunities... and using energy that could be used to create any number of new situations.

one may feel "regret" (actually, it isn't a feeling - it is a thought process, although feelings and emotions could be closely associated with it) because of something one has done, but also one may feel "regret" because of some action done to one... becoming and staying the victim. in both situations, energy becomes stuck in a mental pattern which is basically extremely narcissistic... both patterns bolster the egoic position of "being wrong" or "being wronged"... placing one's own view of things as central, and reinforcing a "reality" that has already been long gone way back in some other past moment... a "reality" that is no longer real at all, except in the mind - but still has enormous power over one's actions, reactions and relationships of all sorts. "regret", as i have used the term, then keeps one fast asleep in their own wheel of suffering... and by example, indoctrinates further generations into adopting similar practices of living and relating.

it's a tough one to shift... because it is confused with "love". as guilt is as well. but regret and guilt, to me anyway, have nothing to do with what i call love... but maybe i'll leave that for another post some other day

spiritual real estate

2009-02-26T21:21:00.000-08:00

spiritual real estate

oh the games we play... and the rules change depending on our transient ideas about ourselves. the game i want to talk about now – is the game called "Spirituality".... also called "The Divine" and "Sacred". These are words that we latch on to... identifying the little self with the ideas of them... and even, sometimes there is experience – but is interpreted by the little self – labelled, categorized as "special"... it is like buying real estate.... something the little self can "own"... something the little self can consider "mine". dropping ideas and picking up others – like buying and selling houses... oh- this one is humble, or this one is zen, or this one is native motif... then inviting others in to see you living in the house you own... calling yourself Buddhist, or Christian, or Pagan, or a light worker, or "indigo", an "old soul" ... or even attributes... silently calling yourself generous, compassionate, evolved etc...

all these things are fine .... but watch to see how attached you are to the label – whatever it is.

i'll tell you straight. most people use these labels, this spiritual real estate as a form of entertainment.... to entertain the ego.... going to workshops, buying book after book, seeking out teachers, going to ceremonies, using drugs – natural or synthetic for "sacred experience".... getting the warm and fuzzies... glimpsing spirits, hearing voices, having visions... oh – it is all so incredibly important and spiritual and special!!! but really – what is it? another mask? another way to modulate fear? another alley to hide in?
... i know this. i've done this.

what would you be if you just dropped it... like a stone. right now. if your ego had NO THING to hang on to, to be identified as.... then what is that nakedness? no "loving idea" to hide and find solace in... just– completely naked, unaltered, undressed ... that is not spiritual – no there is nothing spiritual about it... it is simply the natural unadorned state – empty and clear and bright!!

i'll tell you straight – most people will not give up the spiritual real estate. most people do not want to be free of it.. what most people want is their personal version of what they think freedom is – whether it is national indoctrination, a religious belief, or broad cultural belief... i am not saying that is good or bad – just the way it is.

the problem is with wanting your personal version of freedom – everyone has their own idea of what freedom is... and in the process of trying to acquire this mental idea... egos will continue to create conflict with each other.

people say they want to be free – but they actually do not want to be truly free – to be that alone, to break all unconscious agreements and live in the natural state... without finding their own little self to be particularly important or special.

i still use some spiritual real estate myself.... but at least i know it's there... as a framework that i choose to use – but i am not so attached that i own it – for example - my name... christine arpita – i use the name here in the relative world and i like the meanings of the words (christine related to Christ consciousness and arpita is sanskrit for "surrender to God") – but it is not "what" or "who" i am ... i am simply visiting this body and mind... engaged in all kinds of transient relationships... i use concepts – but i am not the concepts.

we come into this world with no thing and we leave this world with no thing... and in between while in this world we pretend to "own" things... structured forms... structured concepts – clinging to them, investing our energy... that's mine – or that's me.
is it?

life as chaos

2009-02-23T09:28:00.001-08:00

it is so. look into any forest or wild place to see the way that the dance of life goes… and even in the microspaces of carefully positioned zen gardens and flower arrangements… there is under the order - the constant decay of life that MUST change… with predators and the preyed so small that we do not see it… but it is there. everywhere is a wild place by the very nature of having form… so would your mind be any different? why not see the chaos of your own thought - seeing it as it is - wild and everchanging… by it’s nature it so… even when we have designed careful gardens of purpose and identity, everything lined up neatly exactly in it’s place like a minimalist modern design home - or like the stock of packaged foods neatly lined up on shelves in grocery stores… surface order feels safe and comfortable - but maybe we get too much of that and start to believe that life is order, our thoughts are ordered….but order can be a cage… and the wildness that you are may be pacing back and forth like a wild cat in the zoo….maybe the amount of energy it takes to maintain all this order could be used to scream and dance and leap - releasing the pent up steam of ” i must do this, i should do that”…oh… there is chaos everywhere… what is born arises out of some other decay … even in our minds - this is so… yet whatever arises there it is surface order of language… and it is all subject to change… mind isn’t meant to contain the truth… so why believe it? why believe the created order of your own thoughts? … stalk your thoughts to the source like a jaguar stalks it’s prey… to the source of chaos laid bare and open… to the creative silent source of this whole entire scene of relationships in form and time…

2009-02-21T19:14:00.001-08:00

ok... i gotta talk about Mr Crookshank. A real guy... i met him last week. To give some background - I have a couple of young idealist friends... and they write spiritual poetry - and they think they have quite a lot figured out about spiritual matters... and they want to help to save the world - spreading their "message of love"... it's very sweet... anyway... so one of them organizes a poetry circle in our community... so i went to their first circle.. or maybe it was the second... and everyone is supposed to read their poems and listen to other poems and offer gentle positive affirming feedback if appropriate... well we introduced ourselves first - and we all have different kinds of things to say - all putting on our various masks - wanting to be seen in a particular way... anyway - Mr Crookshank was the eldest in the room... british... and when it was his turn he launched into a diatribe about the definition of poetry and what the purpose of poetry was... like some stuffy english professor locked inside his own little version of "coloring in the lines" view of things... just naturally assuming that we all would agree and take his word as "THE TRUTH"... it was kind of hilarious really... like a characture out of a bad story... After his introduction he then would interupt other speakers with his encyclopedic inventory of "witty" and "intelligent" quotations... - whether they were in context of what was being said or not....
Finally, two hours into the gathering - both my idealist non-dualist wannabe friends lost their state of "spiritual equinimity"... and engaged the Mighty Mr. Crookshank ... throwing at him all of their "holier than thou" phrases that they have learned in their young lives... pontificating the virtues of oneness etc... and of course - there was no way - no way at all that they could even think of defeating The Great Mr Crookshank... because in his older, more practiced mind - he had it all "figured" out already!! and these young whippersnappers were obviously too immature to understand his superior position... so - there were two camps of "superior postions" Mr Crookshanks, and my two friends... The end of the evening came after much huffing and puffing... and Mr. Crookshank announced that this group "was going nowhere" and that he would not return... so - when my young friends were cleaning up the space - I offered them the gift of the teaching of the evening... to see if they could see the mirroring that occured so splendidly that night. Could my young friends see that they were as attached to their view as Mr. Crookshank was to his? ... no... they couldn't. Try as i might, it appeared that they couldn't hear what i was trying to say. So i let it go, and took the lesson to heart personally... thanking Mr. Crookshank for this reminder about how views of things become solidified in our thoughts...
As it turns out, Mr. Crookshank is actually good with words - and has written some things that i quite enjoy... and he saw me where i worked the other day - and recognized me - and he returned some hours later with a collection of his poems for me... bestowing his "blessing" upon my fortuneate soul... hahaha..... but you know - i appreciate him... i appreciate his playing "the devil's avdocate" ... forcing my friends and practically everyone else in the room that night out of their polite spiritually correct mental fluff - into something charged and lively! perhaps he did it all intentionally - perhaps Mr. Crookshank is a Buddha!! saying Wake up, Wake up!! .... maybe.

2009-02-20T10:33:00.000-08:00

you know...
thinking is the most addictive activity there is... and the unresolvable quality of the chatterbox mind is what leads to all other addictions - in an attempt to shut it up or at least modulate to something "better".
these days - i do not believe in mental stability. that is a cultural ruse to keep the status quo... to keep all the individuals in a line... and most buy into it - and follow the rules quite well with varying individual characteristics... and some do not buy into it or cannot buy into it - so they are seen to be unstable... but when each of us looks into our mind and closely linked emotions then it will be obvious that the whole situation - in this web of relationships that we are always in - that none of it is stable... none of it is "truth".
mind is addicted to itself. and that is the single most difficult addiction to stop. it cannot be stopped by thinking or by trying to cease thinking.
when i was shovelling soil and horse poo yesterday - in the visceral experience of lifting the shovel it dawned in me that in every moment there is only just this. oh... it sounds like spiritual horse shit... but really - it was real horse shit on my shovel - for the garden... and i cannot translate the experience into words... into thought... the experience is lost in the translation. so, if someone else reads this- they may or may not get what i am saying. and that is the way it is with concepts and language.
but in relating it is useful... although, personally it may be more useful if you came over and helped me shovel poo.

living an imperfect life

2009-02-19T13:37:00.000-08:00

living an imperfect life.
i cannot do much these days. my little life is not that effectual – no big schemes and likely i will simply fade into the mists of the masses upon my death – remembered by a few for a generation or two at most. still, i do my own small part to shape things here – and the results of my being here on earth with this particular body/mind will make a tiny impact perhaps in small unknown ways.
so, i do what i can. making decisions one after another. sometimes i do my best and other times i am not sure what my best is.. my mind tells all sorts of stories about that – but i find these days that my best is better reflected on the actions of the day – whatever that might be. for mysterious reasons – but likely largely out of sheer laziness, i have been not taking very good care of my physical body – so my back is very weak and i have very limitted flexibility – barely being able to put on a pair of socks. choosing an easier way in the short term , sitting a lot – writing like this for example... not playing a judge – just noticing.but today my best was to do some writing and sitting, yes – but also to go out and work slowly and carefully digging out sod for a small vegetable garden and then on hands and knees picking young nettle shoots to dry for infusions to use next fall and winter... slowly slowy. but gardens are made one moment at a time... and this garden's time will come. and the nettles grow without any work at all... right now they soak in the sink and i carefully pick out bits of fir needles and grass which takes longer than the picking. but the tea that will be made 9 months from now will be deeply nourishing. a phone call to my mother, another to my daughter – both of them seeing the world from their perspectives... and the best i can do for them is to just allow them to be as they are, perhaps reminding them through my actions and relating that we all shape things by our actions and relating – but not on purpose... my purpose is just to live as i live. driving the car, buying groceries from far away places, working a little job to pay for those things that we regard as necessities – like the phone and internet, like hot running water and central heating, electrical cooking appliances, laundry appliances, even a building to live in, – sometimes that is best i can do... and sometimes i am just too lazy or unwilling to do something else. it is good in a way, because of my own imperfections that i see, i rarely judge others. so that is the story today of my imperfect life... which is only imperfect in relation to my relating to everything and everyone – that is my individual self bumping against other individual selves. often i see the living of this little life of mine in quite a different perspective which is harder to write about ... and that seems to be quite perfect indeed.