I had some difficulties with his right arm because Brandon was naturally shifting with gravity - I couldn't quite understand the values in the shadows under his head.

A quick gesture drawing of Tyler.

I had a lot of difficulties with this pose. I started 4 drawings and eventually returned to the second attempt. I was feeling really off that night.

Share/Bookmark

No related posts.

Diana was so much fun to draw, full of form, folds, and flesh! This was an hour long study on cream colored 17x14 paper with an oil-based pencil. I couldn't scan the full drawing in one take.

A 20-minute sketch of Diana.

Semi-blind contour drawing of Bert.

Share/Bookmark

Related posts:

1. Figure Drawing Exhibit at the Rockridge Public Library, May 1-30

Grasping mind

Zazen image by Flickr member Taiyu57, used with Creative Commons license

By the third day of sesshin, the schedule, the silence of work practice, the energy of the other sitters in the Zendo, all lent itself to my mind turning inward.

At that point, my inward mind became strangely obsessed with swallowing. Yes, swallowing.

It’s one of those physical actions I never noticed until I sat for 3 days. When my mind finally became tired, it decided to focus on the inside of my mouth and the saliva that formed at the back of my throat. That saliva has to naturally go somewhere. So I found myself constantly swallowing and the more I focused on what seemed like my saliva endlessly collecting at the back of my throat, the more I needed to swallow. In a quiet Zendo, swallowing can be very loud.

I found myself becoming self-conscious, and then I began to hear other sitters swallow. What was going on? It was starting to drive me a bit batty.

Fortunately, daisan (interview with the teacher) was called after that sitting block, and I asked Diane, the teacher, about this strange fixation of mine. I wondered if other sitters encountered this problem. Maybe it was common. I didn’t know.

Diane responded that  what was at issue was not the object (the swallowing) but the grasping or obsessing that my mind was doing. After 3 days of my mind processing everything it possibly could about my life in the previous days before sesshin, it ran out of solid thoughts to hold on to. So it grasped for what was closest. And what occurred at that point was swallowing.

She instructed me to start labeling my thoughts. A fixation on swallowing was ‘grasping’, thoughts that had me feeling frustrated was ‘frustration’, etc. When I returned to the cushion after daisan, I may have swallowed as much as before, but I did not obsess about it.

Makyo

A doodle from an earlier journal; I shouldn't be surprised that makyo occurred given my predisposition to seeing faces in many inanimate objects

By the third evening, I found myself settling into a much quieter state. We faced each other with the final sitting block and my eyes gazed naturally at the sitters opposite me. As my eyes began to adjust to the evening candle light, the sitters became abstract shapes of form and color. It’s hard to describe: it was as though I lost the ability to describe in words what I saw – just that I was seeing shape, color, and form. Nothing more.

As the sit progressed, my eyes naturally lowered and I found myself looking at the rug. And then, faces appeared in the rug. Yes. Faces. Fantastical faces of creatures, of animals, of demons, and generic faces of eyes, nose, mouth, ears.  My eyes weren’t necessarily focused so I thought, let me just focus them, thinking that these faces would disappear. Hmmmm, interesting: the faces only became more clear.

When I talked to the teacher the following day, she told me that this was normal. That there was nothing to fear; that my mind was getting to a certain state and that I should just observe this phenomena. She even told me there was a name for it: makyo. I was not fearful and if anything, I was intrigued, curious as to what was happening in front of my very eyes.

Pain and my physical body

By the fourth day,  I hurt. My lower back was not conditioned to sitting many hours a day and I remember the pain being so great that at one point, I felt I was going to pass out. I told myself to breathe, just breathe, then I felt my heart beating almost too quickly to the point of hyperventilating.

And I thought, what can I do? Just five more minutes, breathe. Just one more minute, breathe. Just 30 more seconds, breathe. And then, the bell was struck to signal the end of the sitting block. I was so relieved! Kinhin (walking meditation) could not have come at a better time!

That evening, I sat in a chair to relieve the pain and as I sat, I waited for makyo to occur. But it didn’t come.

Mudra by Flickr member osbock, used with Creative Commons license

Instead, I began to sense that I couldn’t feel where I was in the space of the chair. My feet were firmly planted on the floor, but I could no longer feel where my feet stopped and where the floor started. The same was true for my mudra, the shape that my hands formed, upturned left palm on top of the open right palm, thumbs touching to form a circle. Where did one thumb start and another end?

I could not sense physical space nor where my body sat in relation to it.  I remember thinking that what I was feeling was probably a good thing, but once that thought entered my head, the sensation of no space, no body, disappeared. I felt the floor concretely beneath my feet, the chair solidly under me, and my hands distinctly touching each other.

Final thoughts and Conclusion

Such is sesshin and sitting in general. Thoughts come and go, feelings and sensations appear and disappear. But what makes sesshin or any long retreat different from daily sitting is the concentrated effort allowed by the container of the center, the sangha, the schedule, and the members who are there for the same reasons.

In all the years of sitting on my own, and especially this last year of consistently sitting daily, I never experienced any of the breakthroughs of just listening, of makyo, of losing the physical sense of any boundaries. Although these phenomena did not last long, it gave me a glimpse of what is possible when just staying present in the moment. And most importantly, having a teacher to guide me through the process was immeasurable.

I remember a thought I had in the middle of sesshin. It went something like this:

I’ve been been sent on a journey. At the start of the journey, I was told: we don’t know where you’re going, what vehicle you’re taking, or how you’ll get there. But your job is to come home.

I feel like I’ve only begun but I am that much closer to coming home.

Share/Bookmark

Related posts:

1. Reflections on my first long sesshin (Zen meditation retreat), part 1

Satchel the day I found her. She weighed 3.7lbs, was full of burrs & fleas.

There is nothing worse than seeing a creature on the brink of starvation. So when I found Satchel on my hike in the Oakland hills, I knew I had no choice but to try to save her.

When I found Satchel, she was walking on the trail and not moving very quickly; even with my dog on the leash, she didn’t run.  Regardless, I couldn’t tell if she was feral so I approached her cautiously. Because of her size, I thought she was a kitten.

She was clearly hungry so I threw the dog treats at her. Then I tried to figure out the best way to grab her while handling a dog that wanted nothing more than the chance to chase a cat through the trees and poison oak.

Satchel supervising me while I blog

Hmmm. I decided to take the dog back to the car, leave the windows down for him, then head back to the spot where I left her to see if she would still be there. If she was, then I would take her.

No suspense here.

Satchel weighed in at 3.7 lbs and even though she is small, she is not a kitten. Two vets have determined that she is actually at least 1-year old and that a healthy weight for her should be 6lbs. She is currently 41/2 lbs.

After all that Satchel has been through, she remains incredibly loving, playful, and sweet; obviously not a feral cat. She is also very social and is happy to tell you all about her day, what her naps were like, how the sun felt on her back, how she needs more treats, and if you decide to leave, she’ll do her best to trip you up so you stay with her. For a little cat, her meows and noises are quite grunty and deep, very much like Marge Simpson’s sisters’ voices. It’s really funny.

Why can’t we keep her you ask?

Satchel always wants to know what's going on

I would love nothing more than to have her live with us.  The unfortunate part is that Satchel is FIV+, the feline version of HIV. This is not necessarily a death sentence; just like with humans, given the proper care and lots of TLC, cats with FIV can live long and healthy lives. In cats, the virus is spread through bites (often from cats fighting) or from mom to kittens.

Also, a cat that has been inoculated with the FIV vaccine will test positive. There is no way to screen out a false positive result. For this reason, may cat owners choose not to vaccinate their cats against FIV. It turns out our vets do not recommend the vaccine.

Satchel playing

We have two older cats who are brothers and are both 11 lbs. They are huge next to her and so far, they have not been happy with this new family member. We have kept Satchel isolated from the brothers but this arrangement does not provide for long-term quality of life for Satchel. She deserves more, especially after what she’s been through.

She needs to be an only cat or live with other FIV+ cats. She has also responded well to our cat-friendly dog. (It’s all about context for the dog: on the trail, it’s fair game. In the house, rules apply, and one of those rules is: no eating cats!) Given enough time for adjustment, I can see Satchel having a doggy companion.

If you are at all interested in giving Satchel a loving home, please contact me! And please forward this info to anyone you think might be interested in her.

napping

Life is good

Just hangin'

Share/Bookmark

No related posts.

Siddhartha Gautama image by Flickr member Siesja, used with a Creative Commons license

It’s been several days since the end of my first 5-day sesshin (Zen meditation retreat) and although it feels that the effects have worn off, my commitment to Zazen has not. As I’ve explained to friends and family, a meditation retreat is not about relaxing, but more an opportunity to deepen my meditation practice.  And that it did.

Some background

Before I elaborate on my retreat, I want to share my circuitous journey to finally committing to Dharma practice. I first became fascinated with Siddhartha Gautama’s story when I was in high school. After college, I moved to Santa Fe, NM where I met a friend who introduced me to Zazen. That’s when I immersed myself in books on Buddhism, Zen, the Buddha, and I began to sit regularly at the beautiful Upaya Zen Center on Cerro Gordo Road.  I also attended my first sesshin, a short 3-day retreat.  It was a simple and beautiful time in my life.

In 2000, I left Santa Fe and moved to the San Francisco Bay Area. I felt the call to continue my Zen practice and found the Bay Zen Center, where I attended a couple of sittings. Just when I needed to sit the most, at a time when my life felt overwhelming, I stopped. Yes, life happened and through it all, I felt the tug to go back to the cushion.

But it wasn’t until 2009 that I finally returned to the cushion, and another year flew before I found my way back to the Bay Zen Center. (It takes me a long time to get some lessons but as the Spirit Rock Dharma teacher Anna Douglas said during my May retreat: Does the snail think it’s slow?)

The first days of sesshin

Zafu image by Flickr member Big Mind Zen Center used with Creative Commons license

The Bay Zen Center is located off of Martin Luther King Blvd. in a residential neighborhood near the Berkeley/Oakland border.  It is not necessarily the ideal location for a retreat. But it is a wonderful place to practice.

It can be loud: heavy glass and debris crashing on the sidewalk, neighbors speaking in French and English, sirens coming near then far, the squeal of a BART train passing every few minutes, the heavy bass of a car beating through my body as it drives down the road (only in I-hella-heart-Oakland!), an Amtrak whistle blowing in the far distance.

All the noises and sounds of urban living penetrating through the walls of a Zen center, reminding me that this is life, in all its grittiness. It is just as beautiful as birds singing in the morning sun and crickets chirping in the evening dusk. Listening Zazen.

This was how I spent the first couple of days sitting. In the midst of all the noise in my mind, I allowed myself to just listen to the noise outside the center.

Listening did not come easily. Thoughts of the previous days’ events came and went: finding a starving cat in the middle of my hike, the unfinished jobs waiting for me when I returned, the mess I left the house in, and what was that noise? and the plane overhead, hmm, where can we go next year? oh right, I should be sitting…

Even though I sit for 40 minutes every morning, my body and mind were not used to the concentrated effort that sesshin required.

I’ll post more on my reflections on sesshin in the next couple of days [Part 2 is here] but for now I need to get ready to cram a full week’s worth of work into the next 4 days, including finishing up some projects, determining what will happen to sweet Satchel, the starving cat I found in the Oakland hills (this will be a future post), and starting up my figure drawing class (excited!).

Share/Bookmark

Related posts:

1. Reflections on my first long sesshin, part 2

Holly with her son Alex weeks before passing away from cancer

It’s time for that annual event when I put a seemingly useless skill of mine to some good. Yes, I’m referring to my swimming, because quite frankly, I can only swim in very specific conditions.

If you really want to know more, you’ll just have to read it on my Swim a Mile Donation Page.

This is my fourth year swimming this event and since 2008, I’ve been swimming in memory of my husband’s sister, Holly Philipp, who passed away from cancer one month before turning 36. It happened so quickly: her diagnosis right around Thanksgiving, and then in the late spring, she was gone. Jon and the rest of his family were fortunate to spend some time with her before she passed away.

This year I will also swim in memory of my dog Siwa. I’m convinced she was a Bodhisattva, her tail constantly wagging, truly enjoying life until the very end. She was diagnosed with canine melanoma in late 2007 and with the latest treatment, she was able to fend off the cancer until her passing in late fall 2009.

My swim will benefit the local “I-hella-heart” Oakland Women’s Cancer Resource Center, an organization that provides a variety of support to women with cancer. The Swim a Mile event is their biggest fundraiser of the year.

I also want to thank my awesome family and friends for helping me to surpass  my goal of raising $500. I am blessed!

It’s not too late to donate though! My swim is scheduled for October 3, plenty of time for you to click that link and help me raise more money for women with cancer:

DONATE NOW

Share/Bookmark

No related posts.

It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our

real work, and that when we no longer know which way to go, we have

begun our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

The bodhisattva has to be a warrior - another page from the dharma journal

I perceive my biggest problem to be that I can’t seem to focus on just one thing – there’s the side of me that needs to work with my hands by playing with tangible objects through artistic endeavors.  Make paintings, drawings, jewelry, sculpture, prints, etc.

There’s another part that has the desire to learn everything I can to become a better web designer and WordPress gal. I want to learn to program PHP, not just manipulate the code. I want to get better and better at Photoshop, Illustrator, my Wacom graphics tablet, etc, etc.

I sometimes feel like I’m being torn in so many directions and I catch myself apologizing for feeling like a Jill of all trades but master of none.

My stream turns into rapids very quickly when I’m in this mode. So what to do?

Lately, I turn to sitting. Then I accept this is who I am. And I won’t apologize for that.

Share/Bookmark

No related posts.

What the inside of my head looked like (more or less) on day one of sitting

I did not invent this description; it came from one of my numerous Zen books (unfortunately, I can’t remember which one). You know this state of mind though.

We’ve all experienced it: the one in which you lie awake at night, sleepless, because your mind is racing a mile a minute from all the thoughts flooding your head.

Well, that was me on day one, only add on top of that a throbbing headache.

So, rather than fight monkey mind, I allowed it to be. Then I exploded in my journal and took 2 aspirins.

Share/Bookmark

No related posts.

I feel the need to explain the change of my blog’s tagline from “Winning the War of Art” to the current “Creating & Living in the Space Between Thoughts”.

Even though my “Facebook Which Firefly Character Are You?” turned out to be Zoe, the reality is that I’ve never been a very good warrior.   I may have a fighting spirit, but when it comes down to it, I really don’t like to fight.

Facing my creativity with the mindset that I started with for this blog and as described by Steven Pressfield’s War of Art was both tiring and uninspiring.

And it’s not that I don’t have discipline either. I do.  I hike everyday. I swim 3 days a week. I sit on the cushion daily.

I did try.

When I faced the canvas, the paper, the journal,  the clay, and the brushes as a battle that needing winning,  ALL THE FUN SIMPLY DIED. I lost not only the war, but my desire to create. And it showed in the works I produced.

So I stopped creating and hence, my absence from my blog in the month of April.

My New Dharma Practice of Creating

Some background

Spirit Rock Meditation Center, photo by Flickr member Jodene, used with Creative Commons license

I spent last week at Spirit Rock Meditation Center doing a week-long retreat that had a focus on creativity.

But before I get into the details of the week, I’d like to share some of my background with meditation/sitting.

First off, I often refer to ‘sitting’ rather than meditation because meditation implies that I am trying to accomplish something when in fact, the goal is to just SIT.

I was first introduced to zazen (the Zen term for just sitting) when I lived in Santa Fe in the mid to late nineties. I would often sit at the Upaya Zen Center in the evenings after work. When I moved to the Bay Area in 2000, life became overwhelming, and just when I needed it most, I stopped sitting.

However, I never stopped thinking about sitting – just like creating – and in 2009, I decided to pull out my zafu and zabuton (sitting cushions). I created a little space in our spare bedroom for my sitting corner.  I’ve been sitting mostly on my own for the past year and occasionally with a group at the Bay Zen Center.

The Retreat

Stone buddha at Spirit Rock, image by Flickr member Everydaybalance, used with Creative Commons License

Last week’s meditation retreat was the first retreat I attended in over 10 years. My very first retreat was a three-day sesshin (Zen retreat) in New Mexico, and from what I recall, my experience was like boot camp compared to what felt like summer camp at  Spirit Rock  last week.

This center is based in the Vipassana form of meditation and has less formalities than Zen so of course, anything compared to a Zen retreat would be like summer camp.

In a word, my recent retreat was wonderful. I could not have asked for a better re-introduction to sitting for extended periods of time. And given my recent block with art-making, creativity as the focus of the retreat was the cherry on top.

We sat for approximately 3 hours, did yoga meditation for an hour, and worked on art journals for 4 hours everyday.  All in contemplative silence.

And each evening our teacher, Anna Douglas, would enlighten us with her wisdom on the dharma and how it related to creativity. Many of us in the retreat (we later learned) were artists who felt blocked by our inner judges and critics, including me. Listening to Anna’s talks reminded us of why we create in the first place.

Quite simply, she reminded us that it is always about the process. She said and it resonated in my core: “We are more like verbs, and less like nouns.”

It is the act of creating and not the creation that I ultimately find joy in. It is the act of sitting here and writing, the act of cooking,  hiking,  swimming,  walking, sharing,  breathing (insert the verb) that ultimately makes me feel whole.

The Space Between Thoughts

The effects of the retreat are a bit difficult to quantify.  I’ve been back for five days and am in the full swing of my daily routines. I have tried to carry the peace and equanimity that I felt during the week. I have made the effort to extend mindfulness beyond the retreat into my everyday life. And yes, that was my ulterior motive: to make everyday life more meaningful.

I have returned to my 30-minute morning sits; the evenings are still challenging but I am making the effort to find time.

The more I sit, the more I readily experience the space between thoughts; that fleeting second when everything is still. And in that stillness, when there is no judgment, no critic, no expectation, no goals, that is when I create.

Share/Bookmark

No related posts.

The Artists’ Reception will be Saturday, May 8, 3-5 PM.  The Library’s address is 5366 College Ave in Oakland, phone: 510-597-5017. Hope to see you there!!

I submitted two drawings and am hoping that they’re both up. The drawings are below:

Share/Bookmark

Related posts:

1. New portrait sketches