The Buddhist View on Personality Types

tiny abstract 6"x6"

I've been listening to some Dharma talks from Noah Levine's site, Against The Stream. He's refreshing (even his 4 letter words seem to fit!), he's kind, he's crystal clear,  and he's honest. In a number of cases he adds a twist on the Dharma that I haven't heard before. Last night I listened to a talk on the personality types according to Buddhist thought. If you've ever wondered whether your dominant character was greed, hate or delusion, he makes it pretty clear. " Can't figure out which one you are?" he asks, "probably means you're a delusion type."

And he reminds us not to get down on ourselves (let's face it, none of these are desirable personality characteristics). You've just been waiting for someone to tell you your a greed type, right? But it's just how we came into this world, in one of these 3 little costumes, although we all have healthy doses of our non-dominant characteristics.  But it's about how we relate to our greed, hate or delusion.  We don't need to see them as who we are, they're simply thought patterns, preponderances to seeing things in a certain way. If we are a greed type we're apt to find ourselves "wanting" or "needing" what we see as desirable, that will be our immediate reaction to things. Want to go to every event that's on this weekend? That would be the greed calling. As an aversive (hate) type, I'm the one likely to walk into a room and not like the paint colour or find that the rug isn't what I'd pick. As I listened to Levine's talk I could see where I get into trouble with my painting; always judging, judging, never quite getting it right. Note to self: come back as a delusion type next time round.

Levine thinks we're not changing our dominant personality type in this lifetime  (as a hate type I'm wanting to get rid of mine and I'm doubting his position on this!) But it makes me wonder about the brain research around our ability to build new neural pathways and lessen the pull of old ones.  What do you think and which personality type am I hearing this from??

What's Love Got To Do With It?

Okay, I know I'm a bit late weighing in on this topic but I was inspired by the wonderful post over at 108 Zen Books. I have a slightly jaundiced view of holidays that have been hijacked as consumer opportunities, celebrations that have morphed in to shopping festivals. Note to self: this is a rant free post.

But I want to offer this little link to a piece Gil Fronsdal wrote on love.  He talks about the different kinds of love. Valentine's Day has become a celebration of romantic love, a complex subject but Gil reminds us of the richness and diversity of love.


"The Buddhist tradition encourages people to develop four different forms of love, called the four Brahmaviharas: loving-kindness (metta), compassion (karuna), sympathetic joy (mudita), and, finally, an emotion that we don’t generally equate with love, equanimity (upekkha). These are all forms of love because they all include a warm, tender, sympathetic attitude of the heart toward oneself or others.


Buddhism teaches that a variety of attitudes may be confused as love. One is sensual desire. Another is affection that is entangled with craving and the need for reciprocity. The Buddha never encouraged the cultivation of such affection; in fact, he often considered it a hindrance to spiritual maturity. However, if we abandon such affections too quickly, we may overlook situations when affection consists of a combination of craving and one of the four helpful forms of love. One of the joys of spiritual practice is learning to distinguish unhelpful grasping and neediness from an underlying love that needs nothing beyond itself. What should be abandoned is craving, not love. When letting go of craving is too difficult, then a person may practice developing one of the four forms of love to the point that any need to be loved naturally loses its power in the glow of love flowing from us."


 Wishing you a day where you take the time to bring love into awareness and recognize the many places it manifests in your life and the new ways you can bring it into being in this world. Tossing imaginary flowers and chocolate in your general direction!

Walking On Ice With the Dalai Lama & A Pee Wee Hockey Team

I don't live here anymore. In fact I don't live anywhere right now. I have read about "ground-lessness" but I had the first hand, slightly uncomfortable experience of it on moving day. As I drove to deliver my belongings to the garage where they will be stored for the month of March I realized, I don't live where I used to. I don't live where I will in the future. I have no idea whether I will like my future home and my previous home is no longer an option. There is no turning back. Openness stretches in front of me.

I have spent a lot of time getting ready for this move, thinking about it, planning it, working for it but now it is right here, right now. But there is a different quality to it when you are in the middle of it. You are no longer playing at it, imagining, hoping for it, or grumbling about why it isn't happening as you'd planned. You are it. It came as a tangy taste of having no ground beneath me, the bitter sweetness of true unknowing. An interesting sensation that required just breathing and not backing away from it. It is our state all the time, anyway, we just don't realize it. Mostly we trick ourselves into our feelings of control and security. We prefer them to the quivering state of groundlessness.

And it was all fine. I sensed the slight feeling of chaos and being unsettled as I went about the following weeks activities. I don't usually live in people's basements. I don't usually have no address, no phone. I don't usually have an abbreviated set of belongings stored in wicker baskets and a small travel bag. Who am I, anyway?

As I completed each errand and loose ends got tightened up I felt a little lighter, a sense of closure was moving toward me. I was ready to leave the lovely home we'd lived in for the last 12 years. I was ready to declutter and move on to a new part of my life. And each task, each appointment moved me further away from the past and launched me into my future. I am ready to be the agent of my own impermanence, to move into the shifting landscape of change.

Our daughter has been getting alot of mileage out of telling her friends that her parents are gypsies, and sending me text messages asking me when the caravan pulls out of town? And so today, all the campfires extinguished, the laundry lines taken down, the wine bottles drained, the garbage bagged and disposed of, the caravan folded its awning and wound its way across the Strait of Georgia and over a snowy mountain summit or two. Dinner this evening, came out of a crock pot in a little motel room in Clearwater, BC. The late night is producing a cool rain that may turn to snow overnight but the room is warm and cozy. We are thinking about an ice walk in Maligne Canyon tommorrow and Larry King is talking to a re-run of the Dalai Lama on the TV. The Pee Wee Hockey team sharing the motel with us is strangely quiet right now. Hopefully they will wake up early, make a lot of noise so we can curse them and get on the road early. Who knows what will happen, really.

Things Get Broken

Here are the 2 panels of a recent work. These paintings are definitely working for their keep; each has been posted separately and now here they are together. I guess I can't really say they are working for their keep as the real flesh and board paintings are on their way to New York right now. So no keeping.

Victoria has been treated to some well known Dharma teachers/visitors lately which is nice for this little, slightly off the track island. We saw Brad Warner in January and Reginald Ray several weeks ago and on Tuesday night we went to hear Susan Piver at the Shambhala Centre.

She was here talking about her new book, "The Wisdom of a Broken Heart". The broken heart she speaks of has to do with romantic love as you probably guessed. And while I listened to her talk I thought there are lots of things that can "break your heart". Illness can break your heart, the death of your child can break your heart, life can break your heart. There are many things that can break you open in this way, I suspect. She said that her book is really summed up by Pema Chodron when she says, "feel the feelings, drop the story".

And again this instruction can relate to all of life's circumstances but we are always challenged by the difficult ones, the ones that make us crazy and confused, the ones that make it hard to sit still. She reminded us that the story is all the add-ons we like to conjure up in our little mental wizard's bowl, the what ifs, and if onlys, we like to stir about.

She talked about the obsessiveness she experienced, how everything seemed to revolve around the loss of this loved one and the shame that accompanied it; how in her mind it confirmed her unworthiness. And she searched everywhere for either confirmation or denial of this, in the smallest acts of the day.

But Piver takes the Buddhist view on a broken heart. She sees it as an opportunity to grow and and work with life. She discovered that in our culture we are always wanting love, always trying to get love. All the relationship books are about finding love (and mostly aimed at women). She looked deeply into the eyes of this and found that wanting love in many ways is about wanting security, and comfort and protection. And she, interestingly, points out, that in the act of falling in love whole heartedly we actually give up control.

She talked about loving kindness and how she found that the path to finding love is to give it. This of course is an integral part to every buddhist practice, perhaps every practice of humanistic principles. Want to experience generosity, be generous, want to experience kindness, offer kindness.

She had a lovely genuine, grounded presence. She was funny and honest and gentle and her talk felt like a true offering. I suspect this book would be very helpful for anyone struggling with the challenge of a dissolving or dissolved relationship that is still tugging at the heart strings.

Buddhist Fashion: Naked, Direct & Fearless

A week later Reggie Ray's talk is still rolling around like a little patchinko ball in my head. I am drawn deeply to that aspect of practice that encourages us to look inside for our direction, to have faith and trust our own inner whisperings. Something inside us knows "what is it good to do now". We don't need to read another book or hear another Dharma talk or make a 5 year plan. We come equipped with everything we need for our training, the koans & the map for exploring them.

I am interested in tuning my ear to the "still, small voice within " which is most often shouted down and ridiculed by the rather loud and overbearing voice of logic and reason. Not that the "thinking mind" is bad but I love RM Jiyu Kennett's comment that "the mind makes a good servant but not a very good master." This goes against the mainstream western view of the world, the world of the expert, the material world of science and stuff.

And while I am drawn to this world of mystery and intuition, it is not my customary stomping ground. I am a stranger in this land, a new comer to these parts. I have cast a disparaging, raised eyebrow on this landscape in the past, dismissing it as the vacation land of new agers and airy fairy folk.

Ray also talked about how as hunter/gatherers, humans were deeply connected to the natural world and that with the advent of agriculture that relationship gradually weakened. It is also interesting to note that nutritional anthropologists mark the advent of agriculture as the starting point of chronic disease in humans. Disease of body and mind; are they connected? Today we not only find ourselves disconnected and disrespectful (my word) of the natural world but Ray comments that we are disembodied. We live mostly in our heads. He is not romanticizing or wishing for a return to the short and difficult life of hunter/gatherers but rather wondering if we might learn to relate to our inner and outer landscape in a more respectful and caring way.

These are the aspects of training that call to me strongly at this time, that make sense at a deep level. Last night I picked up my copy of Ray's book, "Touching Enlightenment: Finding Realization in the Body". I will leave you with this quote from it : "Buddhism, in its most subtle and sophisticated expression, is not a tradition that seeks to provide answers to life's questions or to dispense "wisdom" to allay our fundamental angst. Rather, it challenges us to look beyond any and all answers that we may have found along the way, to meet ourselves in a naked, direct, and fearless fashion."

Comfort Soup

I confess. I am a "feelings" junkie. I live in a thick bubbling soup of feelings. I am not so much a thinker but a feeler. This rich stew of feelings is like a pot of winter evening soup, roiling and boiling. Ingredients rise to the top and surface at random, a small fluffy dumpling of delight, one moment, the pungent scent of fear, next, perhaps, a hard lump of sadness later.

As the sun disappeared this evening, the soup sent up little tendrils of melancholy for no apparent reason. Sometimes there is a reason, as in someone turned up the heat on the pot, but sometimes feelings just arise. Is there some deep human sense of melancholy associated with the falling of night or the depth of winter? Or is it something more karmic, peculiar to this body/mind in this lifetime, or perhaps carried over from other lifetimes if you care to tug on that green bean.

I can remember my Zen teacher once saying to me "that feelings were not a good measure of things". If the soup gets too hot, it can burn your mouth. Like our thoughts, feelings are cycling through, ebbing and flowing and not a solid ground on which to rest our choices. They are impermanence manifest in the heart. A favourite bumper sticker of mine is "don't believe everything you think." Ditto for feelings too.

As I write theses words it seems important to distinguish "feelings" from that deeper sense of "knowing" that comes from inside, that may seem illogical or irrational but carries intuitive information that is a good basis for choices. I am learning to work with this. It can be very difficult to discern this "knowing" and only through experimenting with it, it seems to me, do we get an actual sense of it. I remember a number of us asking our teacher with such urgency, "how will I know the still small voice?" "how can I distinguish it from my imaginings and my longings?" Have faith and patience she would say and you will become acquainted with it.

And so as I sit here on this wintery, evening, the furnace has come on and there is a soft yellow glow to the light coming from the dining room. I think there is a tasty bowl of soup being created in the kitchen, filled with wonderful comforting things like cabbage and tomato and onion and potatoes. Comfort is bubbling to the top.

Looking back, Walking Forward

I have a little New Year's Eve ritual. I like to spend some time looking back on the old year, taking a broad sweeping look, like I'm flying overhead looking down at the landscape. And some years there are more clouds than others obscuring the view. I see quite a few stars this evening.

A lot happened in 2009. As the result of a "health opportunity" that generally goes by the name of cancer in late 2007, I realized in 2008 that, "news flash: I was mortal". It was time to wake up and do what I really wanted to do, instead of thinking about it, writing about it, imagining it, or being afraid of it. The penny finally dropped that I should get on with life, in a get out there and do things sort of way. Some of that self absorbed, self consciousness and fear dissolved with the surgeon's stitches. So 2009 was the year when I decided to get up everyday (well not everyday, but you know what I mean) and create some art. I needed to show and display my art and meet other artists. I needed to take risks and get uncomfortable. 2009 was the year I looked in the mirror and said who cares if I look stupid. Vanity and vulnerability travel in the same make-up bag.

It was also a year I did a lot of deep spiritual housekeeping. I worked earnestly and made peace and forged a heart connection with my 94 year old mother. I gave up blaming her and grumbling about her and said the hard things to her that needed to be said to move forward. To her credit she was open and ready for the healing to take place and our last months together were warmed by feelings of deep connection. I think the wanting and needing something from each other somehow dissolved. We had deep conversations about her impending death and it was the most peaceful experience I have ever had, to sit with her as she died on August 29th.

We finally decided to sell our house and move from the city to a smaller island than we live on now. We worked hard to get the house ready and put it up for sale. It was a spiritual experience to travel the road of big monetary transaction with integrity. But we negotiated it in a way that felt good and on Dec 16th we signed the final inky flourishes to the sale documents. House sold, time to move on. I have to say Mara made a big visit the night after we signed those papers. Every fear I've had about my health came to visit. Doubt and terror are not at all fun to share the pillow with. It felt pretty clear that the only way out was through the little burning, toxic pit. I found the where-with-all to sit with it and consider my options. Fear was feasting on speculation. Instead of pulling the covers over my head I worked to get a felt sense of what it would be like to throw the deal, stay put and be safe. Mara left empty handed.

I gained more confidence in my art this year by devoting more time and attention to it. "What we feed, grows stronger." I learned a little bit about hitting my stride. I learned not to throw myself into fits of despair when things didn't go my way ( a long standing habitual tendency of mine).

And so 2009 has been a time of great learning and looking forward. Things didn't always go my way but I learned to work with that. I worked to resist collapsing into a little heap of "I can'tness" at the first sign of trouble. Oh maybe a few times but who's counting? I worked with my tendency to obsess over things when they didn't go my way. This is such a strong, alluring tendency for me, one of those things I know in my head to be unwholesome but man, it can grab hold of me and take me on a big old chase.

And the Dharma has remained central and strong in my life. I didn't find a Sangha to sit with in 2009 but maintained my own practice and am connected to a number of "Buddhist" friends and my monk friend.

As I look forward to the new year I have new plans to address some health and stamina issues so that I might do more out in the world. We will move to Salt Spring Island in March after living in our wonderful urban home for the last 13 years. And of course based on impermanence and the fact that we are not in control of the big picture I can look forward to the adventures of another year. As my Zen teacher always says "we do our part and the eternal (or whatever you like to call it) looks after the rest."

May you experience happiness and health and the fruits of your good training in 2010. May we be good company to each other as we walk this path together. Bows to you.

Opening Presents & A Dart To The Heart

This little painting is a work in progress, as we all are. And like us, it feels like it is vulnerable and standing on the edge. Like us, it can go in a variety of directions. The moment always holds both danger and possibility. As my Zen teacher says, "we have more options than we think.

But I will pull back from the brink of the metaphorical. This mixed media piece is a continued exploration of a matte textured background in shades of grey combined with a shiny, drippy enso. This enso has a hint of ultramarine blue with some chartreuse and black. The line drawing of the Buddha still needs work, some refining (as do I, which is part of what always makes us a work in progress!). As I say this I am conscious of that Zen idea of holding 2 seemingly contradictory possibilities in our minds at once. We are fine just the way we are AND we can do better. Is that confusing? Only if we want to carve the world into opposites.

There is so much at play in creating a painting that parallels our everyday life. We are always exploring the background, don't you think? Feeling and creating and responding to the texture of life around us, to what life brings to us, to what we encounter. We move from dark to light and back again (like the little yin/yang amoebas). And like this line drawing of the Buddha we are continually inventing ourselves, drawing some aspects of our character with deeper and more definite lines, erasing and lightening the traces of what doesn't work for us, if we are attentive and skillful enough.

And the recycled pattern pieces in this work open a conversation as we might expect words to do. The dart to the heart... I liked that idea for a variety of reasons I don't need to explain, the piercing of the heart, that tender, vulnerable part of us. But the idea of the "dart" is used in Buddhist thought. The first dart is regarded as the event or instance of suffering. The second dart is the mental anguish we create or "add on" to what happens to us. The idea here being that pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. The other pattern pieces that found their way into this work are the little cutting line scissors that the Buddha holds and the words "back facing" which can speak to us in different ways.

So while life and art talk back and forth to each other, sometimes whispering, sometimes shouting, I never start a piece with an intention to "say" something. I become aware of some hinted at meaning as if I was an independent observer. Life imitates art. Who said that? And there is the natural synchronicity of things if we are willing to just look. It is happening all around us, all the time, the conversation between what goes on in our lives and the small things that pop up; our thoughts, our dreams, how the colour of our shoes matches the scarf of someone that we are drawn to, how a line in a poem that we read in the morning, somehow fits perfectly with something that happens to us later in the day.... It is about being open and aware and receptive to life with a capital L. It is after all the season of presents (presence). And as with all presents, they require opening.

What the Buddha Sewed

Here's a new bit of art (16x16" mixed media). It builds on the "Blue Enso Buddha" I did a while back. I've been working with texture, something I've always loved but never seemed to be able to execute to my satisfaction. Ah the distance between expectations and results! Often a very long car trip between the two. But the first step is to wake up at the wheel and realize we're stuck somewhere on that dark little stretch of road . Mostly we start honking & complaining or put our foot wildly to the floor and hope by some miracle we end up where we want to go. Or maybe our style is to put the car up for sale and say we're never going to get there anyway, what's the use?

But in reality it's not about the expectations or the results. We can waste a lot of time and energy getting hung up at those little detours. It's really about the process, the open road, (please no tickets for an over metaphor violation!)

It's about keeping our eyes on the here and now. By simply doing our work, focusing on the task, whatever it is, we not only enjoy the journey but we build patience and perseverance. These are the gifts of any continued work. And in time we'll get where we're supposed to be going. It might be a destination we never imagined. The principle of the spiritual life at work here is: ultimately we're not in control. We do our part and the rest takes care of itself. It takes most of us humans a life time or three to get this.

In addition to my work with texture, old sewing pattern pieces have been calling to me lately. I bought a few, ages ago, at Ruby Dog's in Vancouver, because I loved their transparency and the words and symbols on them. I knew they'd find their place someday. Recently they have surfaced on the top of the flotsam & jetsam pile and I am delighting in them. In fact I think I might have to get me down to a local thrift store and snag a few more!

The other element of this painting is the enso (Japanese for circle) which symbolizes enlightenment, strength and emptiness. Creating an enso is a whole meditative practice, a serious calligraphic art but my relationship to them is simply personal. I have no training in the traditional aspects of how to execute them. I have been mixing my "enso" paint with a gooey substance called tar gel and love the shiny, viscous quality that materializes. I like the juxtaposition of the shiny raised enso against the matte textured background. It's a strange pleasing tension, a slightly surprising combo, not intentional in any way but the result of messing about with materials. It is a following of an intuitive sense, I suppose. So much of what we do, we don't really understand.

So that's been the studio fun lately, following this thread of texture and pattern bits and tar gel. It feels personal and authentic which Leslie Avon Miller talks about on her blog when describing her "mark making" process. It's as if after some time, things start to come out of you, that are you. They are not repetitions of things you have seen or art work you admire, but your own unique voice. It takes time to get there. Lots of just mucking about, lots of false starts, frustration and exploration and garbage cans full of stuff. And we can't make it happen, force our will on it. It's like anything we do in life really, perhaps all of life, for that matter. It takes time for things to brew and steep, to percolate and mature, like any good life sustaining drink worth it's sipping power.

It's also about developing an inner confidence. Not in a prideful way, but in a way that we come to believe in ourselves, in a way that we trust and have faith in what is happening inside and around us. Our friend, the Tibetan teacher, talks about this inner confidence in relationship to our attitude toward life; how we need this to develop our practice. We become the little zen "engine that could". It is not enough to get caught up in the suffering. We need to apply this antidote of inner confidence. And the close room-mate of this inner confidence is faith, I think; faith in the fact that life is not out to get us and that life unfolds as it should, bringing us what we need.

How is your unfolding process going? Things coming out crumpled? Still tumbling around in the dryer? Or perhaps you're holding up something lovely that you never imagined you owned and are as surprised as if you were looking at the laundry of a complete stranger?

Double Tall Eggnog Latte with a Slice of Dharma

Custom Buddha Boxes Created for a Customer to share with friends & family

Last night we attended the final talk of a 4 part series by a Tibetan teacher. The talks were based on the teachings of Dodrupchen Jikme Tenpe Nyima. We started by going around the room and each reading a portion of the text. There was something simple and lovely about this. Then Kalzang gave a little talk based on the text. He told a wonderful teaching story about a Tibetan lama, who was confronted by a thief. The thief asked the lama his name which turned out to translate as "golden leg". The thief poked him in the leg with a needle and the lama cried out and winced in pain. "You don't have a gold leg. You are the same as me. You wear a sheepskin coat, you ride a horse, you eat meat," the thief chided him.

At that point, the lama realized the truth of what the thief was saying and bowed to him. In an instant he saw his pride in his position, his belief that he was somehow better and different than others and he saw that his behaviour did not always correspond with the Dharma. After that, as the story goes, when reciting the names of his teachers he added the thief in as his root teacher because he had helped him see the truth.

It was a great tale and posed the question to us, when someone tosses an uncomfortable truth in our face, are we willing to look or do we just feel righteously indignated? Do we criticize their behaviour (how rude of that person to say that to me!) or do we lob an insult of equal weight back in their direction (your mother wears army boots!) Can we, are we willing to learn from these encounters? Or do we simply want to protect our vulnerable little self, build a larger protective shell around our delicate coating of ego? Can we accept that tapping on our shell, do we let it crack open and grow and expand to become our true self?

It is pretty humbling to face the truth in this way. An encounter with a neighbour years ago showed me that I had a lot of anger inside. Her "poking of me" offered insight into the depth of that anger and how close to the surface it was actually riding. I liked to think of myself as kind and quiet, reasonable and gentle. But I got to see the unforgiving, prideful, vengeful side of me, how I clung with great self righteousness to my position. It was a very painful picture to behold! Yet it was the beginning of my sincere dedication to the Dharma.

I see these events as some of the most difficult teachings. Teachings that are really thrown in our face, most often by people we find difficult. Our habitual way is to grumble about these people and justify our own behaviour but if we really are dedicated to the work of the spirit (in whatever tradition that might be) we will sit up, pull out the thorn, mop up the little pool of our own blood, and have a good look at our bruised egoic self. What made me so angry, so defensive? What truth am I avoiding about myself? It is really the work of going deeper, the work of purifying the heart. It is one of the most difficult things for us to do, to bow down and say thank-you to those who have criticized or offered us the bitter taste of humiliation. It is one step on the journey toward loosening the grip of the self; a step toward true freedom. We can use these painful experiences to help us see who we really are (or who we are not).

So where will we find our teaching today; when we get cut off in traffic, when a shop keeper treats us with indifference or rudeness, when our mother-in-law offers us unwanted advice? Where are the frayed edges of our tolerance? I suspect we will all meet this teaching out in the world today, in big or small ways. Are we willing to mix the bitter taste of this offering with our double tall eggnog latte?

The Four Immeasurables - Holiday Baking Without Cups

On Thursday night I went to hear a talk by a Tibetan teacher. It was part of a series of 4 talks on "Trans- forming Suffering". It was easily accessible and I was curious to hear the Dharma from a Tibetan point of view, as the direct teachings I am most familiar with come from a Soto Zen perspective.

The talk was on the 4 Immeasurables which are Love or Lovingkindness, Joy or Sympathetic Joy, Compassion and Equanimity. It was interesting to me that he started his talks here, rather than the 4 Noble Truths (life is suffering, attachment is the cause of suffering, there is an end to suffering, and the 8 fold path is the way to this end.)

If you're not familiar with Buddhism, you will probably twig onto the fact that (as the joke goes) Buddhism is a religion of lists. I always think this is because Buddhism is so logical and things are organized in a way for people to examine and study the ideas that form it's basis. So if you're a list maker, this may be the practice for you!

In my understanding of Zen, you do your practice and these qualities arise. They are not cultivated, per se. At least there were no practices associated with these states of mind in the Sangha in which I practiced. This belief is based on the fact that you can't make these things happen. They take time to develop. They arise naturally as a result of practice. Let me say that I am by far no expert on the subject, this is just my understanding of it. And also, I am not offering criticism but exploring the path. Allan Wallace, in a book called "Buddhism With An Attitude" says: "The treasure is really within your own mind and heart. Teachers, traditions, techniques, all have the single purpose of helping unveil that which is already within you." This is the spirit of my exploration here.

The 4 Immeasurables are based on the fact that we are all connected and the Buddhist belief that in past and future lives we have been and will be closely connected with those who now seem to be our enemies or those to whom we are indifferent. And even if this is an idea you need to put on the back burner or reject completely, it is easy to understand that embracing feelings of love, joy, equanimity and compassion in this life are indeed more pleasant and generally helpful to the world than their opposites.

The love that forms part of the 4 immeasurables is not our traditional idea of romantic love, but the type of love or loving kindness you might feel to your child or someone dear to you. The aim is to extend this outward to others. This is done through a loving kindness meditation in which you first generate love toward yourself and as you become more skilled you radiate it out into the world, working from friends and family, to neutral people and then toward people we have difficulty with, and finally to all beings.

This practice is repeated for the cultivation of compassion in which we generate the wish that beings be free from suffering. Joy or sympathetic joy, which I think is more descriptive, (I have also heard it called appreciative joy) is taking pleasure or finding joy in the good fortune and success of others. It is an extending out of feelings of happiness when things go well for others. It helps in loosening the grip of our habitually self centred feelings. In my mind it expresses the true sentiment of generosity of spirit.

And the last of the 4 immeasurables is equanimity which I think we all long for. Equanimity in my mind is that steady feeling of everything is fine just the way it is, right now. We are neither pushing away what we don't want or chasing after what we desire. We are not overly excited or discouraged. It expresses true peace with what is.

I know that amongst old Zen friends the question would sometimes come up, well if these things don't arise or don't arise for a long time, wouldn't it be good to cultivate them in some way? For me, right now I feel that I would like to spend some time cultivating the weedy parts of my mind, that I would like to explore working with habitual mind sets that don't lean naturally toward joy, love, compassion and equanimity. Maybe you'll have to give me a little poke and see how I'm doing with it.

Thinking About Art, Meditation & Science

Here is a new painting. I have been spending a lot of time at the Art Gallery here in Victoria, watching the monks who created the sand mandala and wandering the galleries of old Thangka paintings and statues, attending the curator's wonderful talks and tours. We watched a film about an American woman who makes applique thangkas, regarded as the highest art form in Tibet. Truly amazing to watch the meditative detail as she winds threads around horse hair that outlines the pieces of silk brocade.

A couple who came to look at our house even brought me a book on Buddhist art and architecture from the Met! So I feel like I have been immersed in the ancient world of Buddhist art. And so it wasn't too surprising to find myself being drawn to do something that had an old world look. It's very different from what I usually do, based, in fact, on an old fresco of a Buddha. The colours are mine but the style is much more detailed and delicate.

On the Dharma front, we have been working our way through a series of 5 or 6 DVD's on the Dalai Lama's 2005 Mind Life Meetings lent to us by a friend. Each disc is around 2 hours worth of talks and presentations by scientists on brain research and how it relates to meditation. Some of it is pretty, dry, and sciencey for my taste and yet it all relates. Jon Kabbat-Zinn and Richard Davidson talk about their research on meditation and mindfulness. The work that Kabbat-Zinn has done with his "Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction" makes you wonder why the medical community and schools haven't embraced it more whole heartedly. It's cheap (you just need space and an instructor) and it's effect in influencing the body seems amazing. One piece of research shows the effectiveness of meditation on healing psoriasis, a very tricky skin condition. We get to see what a powerful tool the mind is if used skillfully.

Ajahn Amaro, a monk in the Thai Forest tradition, uses the term "adventitious suffering" to describe the suffering that we conjure up in our minds. He distinguishes it from the suffering of real pain that is part of the human condition. The pain that we create and have control over is this "add on" pain where we worry and fret and imagine possible outcomes.

Some of the most interesting information came from Robert Sapolsky's research that explores the activity of our limbic systems as they relate to stress, the old fight or flight syndrome. Super system when being chased by tigers. Digestion shuts down, detoxification shuts down, blood pressure and heart rate go up, all dedicated to giving us the best chance to mobilize and escape danger. Trouble is in modern society most of our perceived danger is psychological and prolonged and this has serious implications for our health. What protected us and served us well when being persued by tigers on the savannhas doesn't serve us well in cube city or wherever we hang out.

He talks at length about the old 'shock the rat experiments'. Interesting, even though perversely unkind. If poor Ratty (remember him from "The Wind In the Willows"?) has no outlet after being shocked, he develops ulcers. Interestingly if there is another rat in the cage, guess what Ratty gets up to after he receives a shock? If you guessed that he runs over and bites the other rat, you'd be right. And that, apparently, prevents him from getting ulcers. Interesting if extrapolated to human behaviour. Got rats at the office? Oh, footnote. The rat can also bite a piece of wood for the same results. Note to foot: Hurry out and buy large box of wood and distribute to all angry human/rat associates. Also ulcers are avoided if the rat knows when to expect the shock.

We haven't finished our Dalai Lama video marathon but I have to say these DVD's have been great for reinvigorating my dedication to sit. It's great to be reminded of the health benefits of meditation. So excuse me for a moment I'm off to either gnaw on a piece of wood, bite someone or sit on a cushion for a bit. I haven't quite decided.

Opportunities For Generosity

I can't remember specifically why but yesterday I started thinking about generosity. And then I did that very human thing. I started thinking of all the ways I am not very generous. Then I realized how this made me feel. Next thought went something twisted like "well how ungenerous you are to yourself to point out how ungenerous you are. Sheesh! In seconds I was tangled up like some mutant pretzel, all I needed was a little salt for the wounds.

As I watched my little pretzel self I remembered an article I'd read on creativity. It said when they'd done research on what separated the creative folks from the non creative ones, it was, simply, that creative people believed they were creative. Non creative people believed they were not creative. Hmmm. So maybe if I believe I'm generous, I will be more generous. So I tried this on, like a size 10 pair of shoes. I thought about all the occasions I have been generous, instead of the other way around. That felt better but still had an oddness about it. It felt so I, me, my, if you know what I mean.

So as I sat this morning it came to me. Generosity. It doesn't need a subject. It doesn't need a verb. It doesn't need to be "I " am generous". There doesn't need to be a me doing it. If I am going to focus my attention on it, it simply needs to be "generosity". I can immerse myself in a sense of generosity. It really is all around us, all the time, in many and varied forms.

And a funny thing happened as I contemplated generosity. The door bell rang and the post person had a package I needed to sign for. "It's even for you" she said (usually the packages are for the downstairs neighbour). "It's from Thailand and they only opened it once," she teased. I sort of knew then what the package contained. Colin from Spaces & Lines had sent me a beautiful pencil sketch of a Buddha (as a thank-you, he had said, for inspiring him to start his own art blog) and friend, Marcus had added a beautiful sacred Buddha textile from Waht Suthat as a treat. So it was like Christmas morning as I opened the package with all it's little additions and cards and even the beautiful Thai lettering on the envelope and the exotic postage stamp. So how's that for an experience of generosity! I hung my Red Cloth Buddha on my studio door and propped the gorgeous Buddha sketch on my cutting table and happily got down to work. Thanks guys for the Treasures! Bows to you both. What shear delight to get snail mail filled with Buddhist goodies.

The air filled with the smell of incense and generosity as I worked away on a new painting. As I contemplated it some more it seemed to me that kindness and compassion and generosity are all really one. And it struck me that rather than thinking of the ways we are ungenerous we might think of them as new opportunities to practice generosity. That seemed much more generous.

Closer to the Truth

I am artless, as in without art, new art that is. Due to the last month's activities art has been pre-empted by other parts of life, the parts where people die and you have to find new homes for their stuff or other people get ready to sell their houses and have to clean and paint and declutter.

The last week has been particularly weird. I am not unacquainted with the suffering in the world and yet it seems so in my face lately. In my human-trying-to figure -it-out-way, I ask what's this all about, why is this coming to me? A fruitless, even foolish question, with no answer. It just is. One day there is an email from a new friend who has just received a cancer diagnosis. On the same day a note about another friend who has had a serious cancer reoccurance. Another day some not so good news about a family member's cancer surgery.

I clean out my mother's apartment and though I have managed her passing fairly well I am struck by how sad I feel as I take the last few pieces of clothing out of the closet and put them in a box for the Hospice Thrift Shop. My brother and I ponder the original birth certificates of my parents that we find in a locked metal box my mother kept. There is a finality to it all that can't help but be sad. And yet not every moment is sad. My brother tells stories about jumping on the bed as a kid and breaking it. We enjoy potato latkes and challah sandwiches in the sunshine at a little cafe our mother liked. Impermanance washes over us like the sunshine. We swish it around in our mouths with the coffee.

Yesterday I chipped a tooth and was ready to go down the avenue of, "man things are crazy and weird and bad. Who let the demons out? And I was going to slump into a heap of overwhelm on the chesterfield when a young friend called to tell me his mother had been seriously injured trying to commit suicide. All of a sudden my sad day and my chipped tooth didn't seem that important. Someone elses's troubles eclipsed mine and I offered an ear and some empathy.

I don't mean to sound like a downer but there it is, the truth of suffering all around us, sometimes closer to the top of the pond than others. So many people to keep in my prayers these days. It reminds me of the story of the mustard seed where the Buddha tells a woman whose son has just died to bring a mustard seed from a house that had not been touched by death. She canvases the village but can't find one. It is just one of the ways we are all connected. It is one of the things that helps compassion arise in us.

So as I drove along in the sunshine today I had to remind myself to really see that sunshine, to enjoy the cool fall air, not to get caught up in the story of how I am being overwhelmed by suffering. I can conjure up a whole big story that focuses on the suffering, making it big and everything else small. But that is not the whole truth, everything is moving and shifting. If I can move and shift with it from moment to moment my reality moves closer to the truth. I am freed from the big solid ball of suffering that threatens to suffocate me. It is more like a lacey tapestry with light shining through the openings. My wish for you is that you too, can breath in some joy through the openings.

Paper Buddhas & Tennis Balls

Here's a paper Buddha. Somehow it called to me as I looked through iphoto this morning. You've heard of paper tigers? I feel a bit like a paper Buddha these days.

We have been scrambling to keep the house neat as a pin, refreshed with flowers, garden watered as the gazillion folks make their way through our house to see if they'd like to buy it. After having to be out of the house all day we return to feedback and requests for more showing times. We feel the need to take care of our tenant who lives downstairs and not subject her to too much stress and visits. This is life in a faster lane than I usually live it.

I get to see the inclination to run with stories the mind creates and how emotions easily take hold when I am tired and stressed. I see my Taurus nature to get a little "uppity" when negative information is directed at me.

It is a prime opportunity to hold my seat and just let it all wash over me like a play. I am watching a movie really, just seeing it all unfold and yet..... it is so easy to get caught up in this little scene or that, to cling to what seems good and true to me.

There I am bouncing back and forth between hope and fear like a little tennis ball. It is a tiring thing, living life as a neon green tennis ball. Sometimes I take time out and decide with mindfulness that I will spend some time on the side lines, just me in green furry-ness, sitting peacefully on the edge of the court.

So today I am reminding myself to hold my seat as offers are called for at noon and to not go with the stories, to just let things unfold. This is my aim for the day, to enjoy my adventure, the movie that is my life, to keep my wits and not be drawn down the river of great emotion, that swirls with muddy confusion. I wish the same for you as you go about your day.

Tasting Life: Sweet, Salty, Sour, Pungent Or Bitter?

I just received my complimentary copy of "Buddhadharma Magazine" and I will have to post my art that appeared there as the credits that often appear in the "gutter" (which is the inside edge along the fold of the magazine) got lost. I had so much fun with that one when they suggested I look in the gutter for the credits. No I couldn't find myself in the gutter, although I know I spend some time there on a regular basis! Anyway I will get credit in the next issue which is just fine.

But what I am getting around to is a piece by Ezra Bayda, a Zen teacher whose clear, pragmatic writing I like a lot. In his Buddhadharma commentary called "The False Promise" he talks about how we spend a lot of time, years in fact trying to "be free of the anxious quiver of being". What a great image, "the anxious quiver of being." It can be almost too much to bear sometime.

And I think if we're honest most of us go there, trying to escape the anxious quiver. We embrace and lean into the comfort and try and get the uncomfortable out of the way as quickly as possible. We're hoping through our practice that we'll become less angry, less fearful, less gripped by our emotions, more clear and wise, less greedy. Some look forward to some sort of "enlightenment". We might hope to be calm and tranquil or clear, maybe blissful. We all spend some time with our hopes.

But Bayda points out: "One of the hardest things to understand in practice is that we don't have to fulfill our idealized pictures of how we're supposed to be or what life is supposed to be. All we have to do is experience and work with what our life is right now. It doesn't matter what arises. Nor does it matter how we feel about it. This may be hard to accept, but all that matters is whether we can honestly acknowledge what is going on and then stay with the present-moment reality of the experience."

So if we're attentive we will see ourselves in our little games, wanting, hoping, expecting. We'll see ourselves trying to control our environment or trying always to figure things out. Why did this happen, what does it mean? As our house hit the market on Thursday I could see this. Until now we have just been working away, focused on the many hours of painting, sprucing and tidying that went into preparing the house for sale. What, the closets need to be neat as a pin, all the kitchen cabinets too, and the basement? But underlying all this work is some expectation that this will make the house sell. I even (for shame) snuck into the yard next door and tidied the pile of old barbecues and strollers that sat in clear view of one of our windows. Pragmatic yes? Am I trying to control outcomes? Yes. I did it out of frustration and longing after several friendly chats with the upstairs neighbours produced no tidying results.

But for me where I really get lost is in the "how I feel about it" part. I love working with what arises, that is my passion, seeing where I hope, seeing how I try to control or make sense of the unknowable. But I am easily lost in the "I wish that didn't make me so mad" or "I wish I was more compassionate", or "I shouldn't feel that way."

So Bayda's article really called out to me, reminding me that it's all okay, the passing clouds of the day. Yes I can do my practice and yes it may change me in the long run but it's really about just being here with "the anxious quiver of being"

There is lots of grist for the mill as our house hits the market, as I prepare to do my mother's paper work and settle her affairs. I will even confess to using a feng shui method to help with the sale of the house, (hoping in action??) that Erin from Dragon Horse told me about. It's a fun little tidbit that you want to know, right? She gave me a little red envelope. In it you put some dirt from your garden, something metal from your kitchen and a piece of wood from a baseboard. You throw all this into a fast running river! Have I resorted to magical thinking or am I just working with unseen energies?

So there it is. Our life as the path. Mostly we know this but it is so easy to loose our way. What comes to us is our practice, not our ideas of how practice or life should or shouldn't be. Each little morsel of our experience is as flavourful as the next if we just let the taste rest on our tongue, not preferring the sweet to the bitter.

The Ego As Swiss Cheese, Full of holes and a bit stinky

It seems life is so full and busy right now that all I have time for is "to do what needs to be done", if that makes any sense. It seems akin to the experience Zen masters confer upon us when they have us sit a retreat with such intense schedule that somehow the ego doesn't have time for it's usual tricks. At some point in the process the ego begins to look like a bit of swiss cheese, full of holes and a bit stinky. Gruyere ego, that's what I am dining on these days.

It is all good, an opportunity for transformation. For the most part the experience of my mother's death has been a good one, one of deep peace and gratitude. Gratitude for her presence in my life, for all I have learned from her and with her and for her peaceful passing. I have encountered such loving and kind and comforting souls along these final steps of her journey, including the delightful, young funeral director who seemed to have such a direct understanding of the simple nature of our needs and dignified caring presence, a true kindred spirit. Of course there is sadness and a sense of an empty spot at moments when I might have called my mother or as I start on the project of cleaning out her apartment.

Thrown in with all this our house goes on the market this week so there is the busyness of last minute painting and prep which seems endless at this point. Throw in some phone calls and emails re: my mother and a little of this and that and all you can do really is attend to the details which is really what the Buddha suggested we do. Rumination and worry and anger are so clearly too much of energy suckers at this point. It seems so obvious from where I stand. And yet I got to look at what I habitually do and have a bit of a power struggle with the swiss cheese part of myself.

As we prepare we look at the house next door which has exploded into a rental property of vast busyness, 8 cars or more. I can no longer keep track of the number of people who actually live there. I had to spend a little grumble time to see the futility of my anger over this. I got to see the feature movie on clinging and fear as I worry over the impact of the this house on our property. And then I looked at my mother's death and how it had been so peaceful, why would I want to get all stirred up over the house next door? In the grand scheme of things how did this make any sense? Mother's death fine, house next door makes me crazy? I ask myself what's this all about. Why has it come to me? And the answer that seems most apparent is that there will always be people around us doing things that we (our little selves) don't like. At some point we need to make peace with that, find a way to hold it, that doesn't generate anger and torment for us. If I don't do it now, when will I do it, I ask myself? And so I work at being less egocentric. I work at letting go. It doesn't mean some appropriate action isn't taken. Maybe I will ask the woman upstairs if I can help her put some of her things in the storage room so the yard doesn't look so full of stuff. Or maybe I won't. I will wait and see what seems appropriate. And I feel thankful that my mother has provided me with this lovely parting gift of peace.

We attended my mother's cremation on Wednesday. It's not that usual for families to do but something in me wanted to do it. We helped the body in and started the cremation process, said a few prayers and a final good-bye. It seemed good to do, an act of respect and completion, a final act of keeping her company through the difficult. I have been saying a prayer for her each night before I fall into my work induced sleep.

And as always there is much to learn. It seems these days life is bringing me the simple reminder to do what needs to be done and let the rest go. To do my part, that's all I am asked really, and the universe handles the rest. No energy to waste on the fruitless trappings of worry and anger and speculation. No time for art, little time for blogging. But that is life right now, why argue with it? So I need to hurry off to buy more paint, paint the living room. I am truly thankful for all of this and the lovely souls I meet along the way each day. May your day bring you what you need.

The Spiritual Toolbox

This piece is another variation on a an image transfer of a Buddha photo taken in a garden on Vancouver Island and some recycled prayer flags with a little hand stamped text tossed in for good measure.

I have spent a lovely weekend at the home of friends on Gabriola Island in the company of my friend the monk. Yesterday we were treated to some fabulous art at an outdoor venue, a favourite artist of mine, Sheila Norgate was there and someone whose work is new to me and struck a chord was that of Ann Gaze.

We enjoyed coffee and sun and were treated to a late afternoon show down at Sunset Point put on by some passing killer whales. Today we were awash in the Dharma. Our monk gave a talk to a local meditation group and then few people joined us for more Dharma and afternoon tea.

What was so apparent as I watched people was their hunger for spiritual teaching, for a spiritual solution or approach to their problems. The questions reflected the need for a "spiritual toolbox" to assist with those broken, slightly rickety spots in our lives. One woman asked about how to deal with the angry people around her in a loving way. Another woman wondered how she might know what was the right thing to do, should she move, should she change jobs?

And our friend the monk offered her always helpful advice. First, there are no generalizations. We must always work on the specifics of here and now. We must look at every situation individually to determine "what is it good to do?"

Next she suggested we use the 3 pure precepts to guide us. 1. Do no harm. 2. Do only good. 3. Purify your heart.

To use this as guidanceshe suggested we need to examine our intentions. We don't want to come from anger in any case. And this can be especially tricky if we are dealing with angry people. We don't want to give up reason and logic but we do need to look into our own hearts. If we are feeling angry, now is not the best time to act. We may need to take some time for contemplation and for the heat of our own anger to pass before we decide the best course of action. And as always it is a slightly experimental process. We come with good intentions and as skillful means as we can muster. We decide on course of action and move from there, adjusting our course as necessary.

And when we are wondering about life paths to take she pointed out that we can never know for sure what is the best choice but that again we need to examine our actions. Do we have some habitual pattern? Are we changing jobs or moving on a regular basis? What's that all about? We want to look at our lives with the curiosity of a stranger to see what we are getting up to. We are in essence trying to get to know ourselves. Are we avoiding something? Are we choosing the devil we know? We need to be honest with ourselves and willing to look. After we have examined our motivation we take action but truly we can never know how things will turn out. We are not in control. And she pointed out that we are acting on faith, faith in something greater. When we have listened to the still small voice within we then trust that we will get what we need. (Didn't The Rolling Stones sing about that?) That doesn't always mean we will get what we want, that things will work out as we imagined. But she pointed out that her teacher said "everything that happens is for my good".

As she offered the spiritual screw drivers and pliers and hammers and nails I could see people's faces light up. I could imagine them rolling up their sleeves to tackle those personal projects that had been languishing on the puzzling to-do-list. Maybe there is a way to relate to my ex-husband. Maybe I can find a way to speak with my mother. Maybe I have a new way to think about my work.

At the end of the day all the little tool boxes were packed up and carried off by new Dharma carpenters, many smiling faces and no banged thumbs (so far!)

Strong Back, Soft Heart

Here's a second study of the "rainbow buddha". I did an earlier one that sold and then because I am always exploring the face of the Buddha and I love these colours I did another one, using more shading and detailing, especially around the eyes. George Littlechild is a painter I love and in a strange way I feel a connection through my colourful Buddhas . This Buddha has a very "female" look as do a number of my Buddha's. Maybe it's time do do a Tara as one friend keeps urging me or a Quan Yin as another suggests.

Yesterday as I sat in meditation I heard some words that I remember hearing 20 years ago at the Shambhala Centre I attended then. I believe they are attributed to Chogyam Trungpa: "Have a strong back and a soft heart" I may be off in the exact words and the trusty, know-it-all "google" couldn't find them for me. But they seem important to me in my practice lately.

If all we have is a soft heart (which is kind of my inclination) we tend to be weighted down by the troubles of the world, our own and that of others. The sadness and the suffering pile up and we feel overwhelmed. I remember when I first went to the Dharma talks of my teacher it seemed all I could see was the suffering around me. I felt like an open wound, oozing and raw. But a soft heart is an important part of the practice, to be open to the suffering and pain of others (and ourselves) to be willing to walk into it, to be with it, not pushing it away and saying everything is copacetic.

And yet this is not the whole picture (as I sensed in my overwhelmed state) As a senior teacher at the Shambhala Centre suggested, yes we need to have a soft heart, to let the world in, to let it touch us but we need to have a strong back to bear it all. We need to find a way to hold that suffering and not collapse or push it away. It is about this balance, this blend of soft and strong, and I like that it is described with the body. I see this picture of me with my soft heart being pulled forward and rolling up into a tiny ball. That's too much soft heart. And if you only have a strong back, perhaps your body is pulled so straight up, so tightly, that things simply bounce off your heart and can't enter there?

And for those of us with soft hearts, how do we develop the strong back? I am not sure about that? I am working on it. Our training helps us develop wisdom and clarity that allows us to see the truth of situations. To me that means that it is not always the "soft, kind, fuzzy" action that is helpful in a particular instance. As in the story I told of my friend repeating her problem over and over I have come to realize it is not helpful for either of us to let this go on. I need to have a strong back and in as kind and skillful way as possible not indulge delusion.

I need to have the strength to do the hard thing. I need to trust that the universe is unfolding as it should. If something seems horrific to me I can remember as my friend the monk says, "that something greater is working itself out" that is beyond my understanding. It doesn't mean I give up action and caring, it means using my strong back allows me to lift and hold a weight that would otherwise oppress my soft heart and render me "unhelpful" to myself and others.

And my wish for you is, may you go out into the world with your strong back and your soft heart and embrace what the world has to offer you.

How Not To Be A Buddhist

A friend sent me this email (which I will include in case you want to read the details). Basically 200 religious leaders chose Buddhism as the world's best religion. It's a very cute little piece. It was interesting to me because the word religion always sticks in my throat like that sharp little bit on popcorn. I am uncomfortable with labels and I am uncomfortable with religion. I love the teachings of the Buddha and the writings of many who call themselves Buddhists. But isms and ists make me squirm.

Maybe that's just my problem. Maybe I'm a fence sitter who just can't commit. Maybe I am destined forever to be a "stream enterer" always swimming around at the mouth of some religious tradition.

For me Buddhist practice is bigger than religion. It is a way of life. To call it a religion seems limiting. And from where I stand religion comes with a lot of hierarchy and sexism that seem contradictory to the essence of the spiritual practice. The Buddha wasn't a Buddhist. He was just a guy searching for the truth. And when you look at a lot of Zen stories and koans, they are killing the Buddha and burning the texts. They are asking us to get to the heart of the matter.

Training is good, sitting is good, studying is good and teachers I think are necessary. But after a stint as a Bookstore Buddhist, followed by some serious dabbling and 4 years inside the Zendo I think I am more comfortable peering into the temple from the fresh air on the outside, circumambulating the perimeter of the property ... out here with the stray cats.

15 Jul 2009, Tribune de Geneve

The Geneva-based International Coalition for the Advancement of Religious and Spirituality (ICARUS) has bestowed "The Best Religion In the World" award this year on the Buddhist Community.

This special award was voted on by an international round table of more than 200 religious leaders from every part of the spiritual spectrum. It was fascinating to note that many religious leaders voted for Buddhism rather than their own religion although Buddhists actually make up a tiny minority of ICARUS membership. Here are the comments by four voting

members:

Jonna Hult, Director of Research for ICARUS said "It wasn't a surprise to me that Buddhism won Best Religion in the World, because we could find literally not one single instance of a war fought in the name of Buddhism, in contrast to every other religion that seems to keep a gunin the closet just in case God makes a mistake. We were hard pressed to even find a Buddhist that had ever been in an army. These people practice what they preach to an extent we simply could not document with any other spiritual tradition."

A Catholic Priest, Father Ted O'Shaughnessy said from Belfast , "As much as I love the Catholic Church, it has always bothered me to no end that we preach love in our scripture yet then claim to know God's will when it comes to killing other humans. For that reason, I did have to cast my vote for the Buddhists."

A Muslim Cleric Tal Bin Wassad agreed from Pakistan via his translator.

"While I am a devout Muslim, I can see

how much anger and bloodshed is channeled into religious expression rather than dealt with on a personal level.

The Buddhists have that figured out." Bin Wassad, the ICARUS voting member for Pakistan's Muslim community continued, "In fact, some of my best friends are Buddhist."

And Rabbi Shmuel Wasserstein said from Jerusalem, "Of course, I love Judaism, and I think it's the greatest religion in the world. But to be honest, I've been practicing Vipassana meditation every day before minyan (daily Jewish prayer) since 1993. So I get it."

However, there was one snag - ICARUS couldn't find anyone to give the award to. All the Buddhists they called kept saying they didn't want the award.

When asked why the Burmese Buddhist community refused the award, Buddhist monk Bhante Ghurata Hanta said from Burma, "We are grateful for the acknowledgement, but we give this award to all humanity, for Buddha nature lies within each of us." Groehlichen went on to say "We're going to keep calling around until we find a Buddhist who will accept it. We'll let you know when we do."