Rowdy Abundance

new abstract "If Trees Were Mountains" 11"x14"

I am still gulping in this season of rowdy abundance that has thrown itself at my doorstep. The sun gets up early and stays up late and somehow I try to keep up.  The settling darkness laughs at my foolish tag along attempts as I fall into bed exhausted. I don't want to miss a minute.  I am full of energy for all that needs to be done, for sipping in the deliciousness of the greenness and the savouring the occasional tepid breeze. The grass is waist high in parts of the meadow. The tent caterpillars have consumed the leaves from entire trees giving them an eerie silvery glow. They are cocooned in in a tangle of emptiness. Soon their little moth selves will bump against my windows at night like little winged zombies.

The birds dart about in frenzied feeding. Even the tiny woodpecker comes to tap at the plastic feeder hoping to find something to his liking. The quail keep look out for each other as they eat, this seems so endearingly sweet, but of course it is merely a survival behaviour. The hot pink hawthorne tree who showed no sign of blooming last week is tosses it hot pinkness into the sky, even in the distance. In my human way I am constantly reading meaning into the natural world where there is none, or at least not my imagined stories of sweetness or worry or delight. They have their stories but not the ones I stitch together for them, charged with my own hope and fear.

And I  have been plunged into this radical abundance, feeling the energetic pull to be part of it. The lazy slow days of hibernation have disappeared into the drawer with the wool socks. The stack of books I am reading is as tall as the grass. There is "In Buddha's Kitchen" and "Gardening At Dragons Gate", both written by women Dharma practitioners.  Wendy Johnson gardens at Green Gulch Zen Centre in California, Kimberley Snow cooks at a Tibetan Centre in Northern California.  As I read these books at different times over the days the stories seem to merge together and I weave one book out of two. But as I travel deeper into the books  their roads of similarity diverge with the writing and story of the gardening book emerging stronger and more vivid. And so the stories separate and the reading of one increases and the other falls quietly into the background.

New Buddha 16"x20"  heading off to Norway this week

Also traveling  from bedside to coffee table are: "Long Life" and "Why I Wake Early" by Mary Oliver, "Pilgrim" by David Whyte, "Broken Open" by Elizabeth Lesser, "Journey In Ladakh" by Andrew Harvey, and "Collage Discovery Workshop" by Claudine Hellmuth. I am living in the waist tall grass of my reading list, sometimes feeling overwhelmed and sometimes simply picking up what I fancy and reading a bit. I imagine the birds and dear (ha, ha, good typo, deer), must feel this sense of lush madness each day as they make their way through the world.

And between reading list and my infatuation with the outdoor world there seems little time left for virtual living. I read the odd blog. I watch Jeane broadcast from the shed, check a few emails but this is the stuff of colder seasons or rainy days. I suspect many of us have the same inclination, torn from our screens by the the energy of growing things, of warm breezes, a world that offers us so much for so little.

How about you? How has the energy of the season tangled and mixed with your life creating a new you? I am reminded of a quote attributed to the Buddha that I have used on a painting: "Each day we are born again. What we do today is what matters most."

Muck Raking

Taken at the Japanese Garden in Seattle

I was muck raking yesterday.  No, really I was.  Not the gossipy, wrong speech kind of muck raking.  I had a big 3 pronged claw-like rake and I was pulling old snags (and young ones) from our pond.

The pond is ridiculously large and has been neglected for a long time.  One of our summer projects was to get out as much debris as we could while the water level of the pond was low.  But summer has morphed into fall and projects have stretched out like stale bubblegum and the rains have started.

This morning as I sat in meditation  thoughts bubbled up, some less pleasant than others .  This led the mind to snag onto thoughts about muck-raking.  As I dragged things out of the pond yesterday, the odour of all that rotting stuff was pretty pungent, (not unlike some of the thoughts that were bubbling up to the surface as I sat.)

I was reminded of a neighbour's comment when I suggested I might use some of the submerged leaves and muck on my garden beds.  As a master gardener with extensive gardening knowledge she said it might not be a good idea as the material was probably "anaerobic" (without oxygen).  I guess theory being, it might actually suffocate the soil.  Muck, lack of oxygen, I could feel my mind-pond gasping for air.  It reminded me that in this cerebral pond, instead of diving for cover and rejecting those thoughts I  categorize as unpleasant, I could simply provide some space and air, to simply let them bubble up and be.  I didn't need to do anything with them.  They could come to the surface of my mind-pond, let off their little stink and be gone (for now anyway).

After a number of days of muck-raking (down at the pond) yesterday I admired our work.  The shore, while still muddy was free from all the broken twigs and this year's fallen leaves.  Lots of the large, partially submerged branches had been pulled out so that the pond no longer looks like some crazy pot of dirty soup (at least at the south end).  The water suckers sprouting up from the alder trees were trimmed and some alders removed completely.  It was a pleasing, more orderly sight.

All this work reminded me of my own mind-pond.  It takes concerted effort to change the mental landscape.  It seems to me there are two kinds of mind-pond work.  We work with both inner and outer tributaries of the pond. We need to let those slightly stinky, submerged thoughts rise and pop like bubbles.   With this, we are injecting much needed oxygen, working with the outflow, cleaning the pond.  The there's the purification of the pond, the streaming in (or raining down) of clean mind-water, an important step that is often overlooked.  We can choose our thoughts.  We can choose to pour wholesome, helpful thoughts into our minds.  We can remind ourselves to be grateful for everything, to pour lovingkindess into ourselves to alkalize both our mind and bodies, instead of  continuing with our somewhat sour, acidic thoughts.

Both ponds, the one across the meadow and the one I carry with me are still in need of reparation.  There is still muck-raking to do, snags to snafoo, smelly stuff, prone to rot and suffocate the environment to be liberated.  So the process continues, the skillful, concerted effort of pond cleaning.

And like so many things in this life, (eating, washing the dishes) it's time to start all over again when we're done!  But we can do this muck-raking with joy and enthusiasm, knowing it is our work.  We are making this earthly environment better by our efforts.  And you will be glad that we are still at the point in our virtual life that there is no "sniff" function on blogger yet.  Now back to the muck raking

The Dharma Is Everywhere

The Dharma is everywhere, it infuses everything, just waiting for us to stumble upon it. Sometimes it is screaming in our face, "wake up" and sometimes it is peeking out, shyly, in it's humourous little incarnation giving us a nudge and a poke.

My partner took this picture at a garden centre and he said it reminded him of the last lines in the movie "I Heart Huckabees" where some folks are going to a protest gathering. One character says., "bring your own chains." The protagonist quips back, "we always do." I love that movie!

But I digress, before I even start. I must confess to the guilty pleasure of reading the 3 giant Steig Larson mysteries. Not something I would ever have imagined reading. They were given to me by dear friends, saying try it, you might like it. I have teased that they are a bit like crack, once I started I have a hard time staying away. Now these books base their attraction on creating polarized heroes and villains, some intrigue and mystery, sex, politics and lots of suspense. No great writing here just a cliffhanger that pulls you forward. The author has an uncanny knack of turning just about everyone who reads this stuff into a cheering section for an odd hero on her journey.

I have wondered why I am reading them, except for the delicious experience of kicking back and disappearing into another world. But last weekend when I went out into the garden I discovered the Dharma of "The Girl Who Played With Fire". I was faced with a garden gloriously responding to the sun and copious quantities of rain. It was a garden overflowing with weeds. Spritely yellow dandelion heads were everywhere. My habitual response to situations like this is to feel overwhelmed. I get overwhelmed and it sucks the energy out of me. I don't know where to start and the job seems too enormous. When this happens I work away in a despairing kind of way. I am not having fun and all manner of knowing how to approach a task seem to disappear. It is always a disheartening and grim experience with serious karmic overtones.

But suddenly I was grasped by the tenacious energy of a few of the characters in the "crack novels". Those characters reminded me of the will to keep going against all odds and somehow I was reminded to lighten up, enjoy the day and keep working, one weed at a time. It turned the whole situation around. So there is the surprising vote for reading things that might seem unlikely. The Dharma IS everywhere. Everything, everyone has something to offer if we only put on our Dharma headsets and tune in. Happy hunting.

Reading The Self

I am having a lovely quiet morning and noticing the 2 stacks of books I have lying on the very deep window sill of my bedroom. I have often thought it would be fun to write a novel that consisted only of people's shopping lists, to do lists and the stacks of books left lying around the house. It would work in terms of characterization, but I'm not sure how action packed it would be. I suppose the "to do" list for each day could provide the action and movement, the climax, denouement and final resolution? Perhaps the difference between the "to do" list and what actually got stroked off at the end of the day would move it forward?

But I digress, as the mind so willingly loves to play and dart about. Here are my 2 stacks of books, piled near the bed, for reference, as books I hope to pick up again, as books partly read, none of these completely abandoned as yet

.

One stack contains: "No Time To Loose" by Pema Chodron on the bottom, meant for revisitng. On top of this sits David Sedaris', "Holiday On Ice" lent to me by a friend and partly read while I had the flu, hilarious is all I can say. On top of that is "Pipi Longstockings" by Astrid Lindgren, an old favourite of mine, Pipi is kind of my patron saint, in a strange way and I mean to do a post about the dharma of Pipi. Next up is Thich Nhat Hanh's "Peace Is Every Step", an early Dharma book of mine and well thumbed. I used to read the part about how to eat an orange to my daughter when she was young. I think this book is out because there's quite a buzz on the west coast about his August visit to Vancouver. And topping off the pile is "Light Comes Through" by Dzigar Kontrul Rinpoche, a delicious little book read a while back and there for leafing through when the urge strikes. You can never have too many books by your bed!

Pile number two has Jack Kornfield's "A Wise Heart" , revisited not too long ago as the meditation group I am now sitting with is associated with Spirit Rock, which Kornfield is part of. Next up is "True Perception" by Chogyam Trungpa. It's about art, but while there are some gems in it, I have always found him a hard read, so this one has been read in fits and starts, as my mother would have said. Next up is "All About Colour", by Janice Lindsay, a fascinating book about the history and psychology of colour. I read it at intervals. I love it but it is a bit of a dense read for me. Next up is a very old Dharma book of mine, set out because a friend recently mentioned it as the first Dharma book he read (on my recommendation). It's "Open Heart, Clear Mind by Thubten Chodron. And topping the stack is "Creative Authenticity" by Ian Roberts, read once quite greedily when first received and now waiting for a more contemplative pass through.

What's in your reading stack? On your "to do" list, either stroked off or still waiting? Can we know ourselves or others through these tidbits? Is there a self to know, that ever moving changing creature? Perhaps our lists can tell us about our longings, our aspirations, our inclinations or our state of mind at some point in time, like a little snap shot?

Earth Martinis - Shaken & Stirred

I am generally not much of a news follower but this last while it seems unavoidable: trouble in the middle east, earthquake in New Zealand, earthquake and tsunami in Japan, weird political rumblings in the US. It's not just the news media trying to drum up another drama to keep the evening news ratings up. It seems to me we are truly being shaken and stirred. Ice storms in the north east, torrential downpours here overnight, not that I'm a martini drinker, but I'm thinkin the cosmic bartender is up to something.

And as much as we try and create our little cocoons of safety we can see from these events that there really is no ground to rest on, nothing we can wrap ourselves in, except perhaps the Dharma. And the Dharma tells us that everything is changing, moving all the time, everything is impermanent. The truth at least makes the landscape navigable. And in our tiny lines of vision we really have no way of seeing the big picture. Our ability to swallow the martini, comes from, as Joko Beck, says, (and I think I've quoted this recently), "being a bigger container."

We need to be a container big enough to hold all the ingredients for the earth martini and in this work, we are called upon not prefer the cranberry martini one over the mud or dictator flavoured version. "I didn't order this, bartender, take it back." Of course we experience grief when faced with destruction and the death of thousands but it is within our ability to experience the grief and as Trungpa Rinpoche used to say, "have a strong back and a soft heart". We need to take action if it is necessary, say some prayers, dedicate the merit of our meditation, send some money, or more, if appropriate, whatever we can do.

And we need to carry on with the other flavours of the day, rather than becoming a newsicle frozen in front of the TV. There is the joy of the Bufflehead swimming on the pond, the good humour of the guys tiling the bathroom, the intermittent shafts of sunlight flooding the dirty windows between downpours. There is our livelihood. The world is always moving and shaking but mostly we are too preoccupied to notice. Sometimes it takes a really big shake to wake us up, to remind us that this life is something to be grateful for, rather than grumble about.

My tiny bit is over at my etsy shop, 50% of sales will go to earthquake relief in Japan and I will support others locally in their work. Rawsome Living Foods is donating all of their profits from their Saturday (March 19th) craft fair sales at Mahon Hall. Another islander is having a vegan bake sale on April 2nd. What flavour is your martini?

Buddhist Pep Talks for January

Is it just me or is January a challenging month? After riding the updraft of the holiday season, visiting with family and friends, I always get a little melancholy in January. It's kind of classic, isn't it? There is the excitement of looking forward to the new year, writing about it in my journal and contemplating it and then it's here. And then comes the question what to do with it? The evenings are dark and quiet, the sweet treats have been put away in favour of a cleanse.

So I am thinking of what little Buddhist pep talk to give myself. So here are the things I have been reminding myself of: "Impermanence., I whisper, remember impermanence. It's the opposite of those little labels in the back of shirts that read "permanent press". While something may seem as solid as Arnold Schwarzenegger, they too shall pass. And observation moment to moment shows me the truth of this. I don't need to say to much else to little self on this subject, she seems to get this one.

Another thing I like to tell the little self is" self, you have a choice. You can spin a long strand of spidery thoughts or you can choose to see that cobweb as ethereal, spun silver, or you could just blow that cobweb away . You get to choose how you use your mind. Pop that tire out of the rut."

That melancholy that settles over me so snugly is simply the movement of the emotions. "Self, are you listening? You can be pulled down a long dark road by the chain of feelings or you can refuse to get on the bus. Just like at the department store of thought, you get to pick. Are you buying this one or not? " We are drawn to the arising of feelings, sometimes by a ferocious pull, perhaps from beyond this lifetime. Habit, karma? And yet one thing I remind the inward peeping little self, is that it can be a razor's edge, not pushing away what arises but not indulging it. We need to spend a little time on this tightrope to find our balance. "And did you throw out those rose tinted glasses, like I told you to?"

And so the feelings and thoughts about the time of year and how I feel come and go. I watch them like some personal little youtube video. There I am riding the horse. There I am falling off. There I am wishing I had a cup of coffee. And so it goes and it is really all just fine. I am grateful to be in the position to do this, to watch and learn and contemplate. And to keep company with my amazing companion, the Dharma.

Objects In The Rearview Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear

There has definitely been a samsaric quality to the last several weeks. And that's okay, as long as samsara proves to be an educational experience (ah, I have spent many years in Samsara Elementary). What's important is that the suffering you encounter is the suffering that leads to the end of suffering as opposed to the suffering that just leads to more suffering. There has been a quality to some of the days like the dark, foggy fumblings of a bad dream. As in a nightmare, unpleasant things happen and I wander aimlessly in search of solutions. Only on this occasion I am awake, well, sort of.

In this little personal nightmare I am suffering from the effects of stress and environmental toxins brought on by house renovations. There have been the usual host of surprise findings and expenses. We were warned, but like so many things you don't really pay attention until the tarantula lands in your lap. For some reason even though I chose no VOC paint, cork underlay for the wood floors I completely overlooked the issue of off gassing from new cabinetry. And while I chose lovely cement coloured porcelain tile I neglected to consider the chemicals in the grouts and glues used in plumbing sealants. And so what I left unconsidered came to haunt. Isn't that a good Dharma lesson? Doesn't that hold in so many of the arenas of our life? In this case chemical sensitivities stirred with a vengeance. My body offered yet another lesson.

So while my home normally feels like a place refuge, a place to recharge and regroup, I got to experience life with nowhere to take refuge. In a strange way I was homeless, ungrounded, as home became a place that made me feel ill. I had nowhere to hide. The inclination to spin stories of how this would end were enormous. The call of the sirens of depression were alluring. What now? Do I need to rip my kitchen out? Do I need to move? Thrown into all this were some social obligations that left me feeling like a wandering ghost, moving from place to place, going through the motions, feeling unwell, feeling sad that I was unwell, imagining all others as well. Samsara on the personal big screen.

I tried to muster the stations of faith, reminding myself to look up, rather than despair. One moment I could remember, the next I was lost in confusion. I imagined the worst. My physical symptoms seemed stuck. No matter how much wheatgrass juice I drank, how many salads I ate, how much oil of oregano I sucked back, my symptoms were stuck. I followed the little trail of breadcrumbs toward a solution. I even had a nightmare about being trapped in a cul de sac in a hillside neighbourhood! I inched along like a sad little, blind worm. I called a naturopath I have seen. I researched ways of dealing with off gassing. I wandered, disheartened in samsara, looking for an escape hatch. I asked for help. Sometimes I wallowed, sometimes I groped my way forward.

And while I am a rather staunch believer in the worst outcome, this time I was proven wrong. I followed a thread to a biological dentist (my cold symptoms had morphed into dental pain). Surprisingly this grey haired, Harry Potter glassed, wizard helped dislodge my stuck physical symptoms with his bag of holistic tricks. Another day as I sorted lethargically amongst some papers I found a pamphlet for a product from AFM that when painted on cabinetry, minimizes offgassing. Slowly I was making headway and revisiting the land of the living as I wobbled back and forth between hope and despair. Slowly I was cultivating a landscape of possibility.

I learned that the stories I had conjured were habitual delusions and that yes, Virginia sometimes there is a Santa Claus (no dental work required!). I learned how hard it is to rest in the unknown, how it is so uncomfortable that I often prefer a bad bedtime story to no story at all. I learned that some deeply entrenched fears habitually send me heading straight for the panic button. This time around I noticed there is another button on the dashboard. Faintly I read it's tiny letters, "equanimity".

It has been a long, tiring couple of weeks. And there it is, samsara receding in the rearview mirror. But I am reminded that vigilance is an important quality in this life of the Dharma. Sometimes you find your reminders in the strangest places: printed on the bottom of that rearview mirror I find the words: "Objects in the rearview mirror are closer than they appear."

What Does The World Need?

Here's a piece that's been waiting to be finished, hanging out in the dark orphanage of homeless Buddha paintings. It started its life as an abstract and seemed to call out for more, advising me at one point that it was merely the ground for something further. So it has followed in the footsteps of several other Buddha Brothers (or sisters) getting involved with some pattern pieces and a shiny tar gel enso.

Sometimes I look at this calling out for more in my work. Sometimes it is really about the underlying feeling of not being good enough, of thinking I need to be more than I am which of course spills on to the canvas. Sometimes I am right and a piece needs more, I need to push a little further and sometimes it's simply a manifestation of that human delusion of "not good enough". The work is in knowing the difference. Sometimes I get it wrong.

I ran into a couple of Dharma friends today quite to my delight. Over egg salad sandwiches wrapped in sunshine, we sat outside and talked, what else?, Dharma. As the conversation meandered and rolled through the sun filled patio, one friend confessed to feeling guilty about time spent on long term, intensive practice. She found what came up as she sat were feelings that she wasn't contributing to the world and thoughts like "who are you to be doing this". Again it seemed there was this human delusion of "not being good enough", not doing enough. Different situation, no paintings involved, same delusion.

Her situation particularly reminded me of something I'd read the evening before in Jack Kornfield's book, "The Wise Heart" and I offered her my loose recollection of Kornfield's wise words which are: "The quieting of our mind is a political act. The world does not need more oil or energy or food. It needs less greed, less hatred, less ignorance. Even if we have inwardly taken on the political bitterness and cynicism that exists externally, we can stop and begin to heal our own suffering, our own fear, with compassion. Through meditation and inner transformation, we can learn to make our own hearts a place of peace and integrity. Each of us knows how to do this. Gandhi acknowledged, "I have nothing new to teach the world. Truth and non-violence are as old as the hills."

May you offer the world what it needs.

A Spiritually Unemployed Type Checks Out Reggie Ray

Tonight we had the great, good fortune and treat of seeing Reggie Ray speak in person. I have his book "Touching Enlightenment With the Body" and his teachings, which I first encountered in Tricycle Magazine, have always resonated with me.

But I was not prepared for how deeply I experienced what he said as true. Some of this may drive you crazy, but now you're warned, so if you read on, it's only because you want to be incited! (that's the disclaimer, kids, no karmic lawsuits allowed). He started by saying how much of Tibetan and Asian Buddhism is cultural, bringing with it the hierarchies, the sexism and other aspects that are not essential parts of practice. Yes, I wanted to stand up and shout, yes. That's what doesn't sit right with me. That's one of the things that causes me to say "I am between traditions" when people ask me where I sit these days. It's like that awkward pause when people ask you what you do and you confess that you are "between jobs". Ah so now I get it, I am spiritually unemployed!

Ray seemed so clear and present in a way you don't often see. He talked about how his initial relationship with his Buddhist practice was all in his head and his intention was slightly misplaced. He talked about a brush with a cancer diagnosis (that turned out to be false positive), but lead him to throw out all his academic writings on Buddhism and embrace a more earthy approach that was based on the importance of how we live our daily lives.

I loved his story about his cancer encounter, how he realized as he spent time in cancer clinic waiting rooms, that there are 2 world views. Most of us live in a dream world, he said, even if we say we know we will die some day, we don't really believe it. There is an unreality to it. It's out there in the great beyond of "some day, pass me another slice of pizza, please." The other world view is that of cancer patients, who finally get it on a visceral level that they will die. Once you have been touched by this, he said, it doesn't go away. Speaking as a member of this little club I can attest to what a shocking realization this is. And even though there is a waking up to reality, I don't recommend membership in this club (not that you get to choose)

Ray went on to candidly talk about how he is hated by 12,000 people, briefly touching on his split with the Shambhala community. He spoke of his teacher Chogyam Trungpa with nothing but the utmost reverence and respect.

He did a couple of short body meditations with the group so we could have a taste of his practice, and talked about how his Vajrayana style or pre-Vajrayana meditations bear more similarity to the spiritual practice of indigenous people than Buddhist practice as we know it. It can sound a little esoteric or perhaps heady when he talks about the ultimate reality being accessed through the relative reality but I think it is just the shortcoming of language. It is difficult to describe in words what must be experienced through the body. You need that direct encounter to actually "get it". All the words are really only pointing the way.

He talked about what is really important, is how we live our day to day lives, how we experience each person and circumstance as our path. He talked about how the body is each person's personal gateway to what he calls the "ultimate", what others might call awakening. He talked about how it is all a transformative experience that takes a life time and that it's really all about love; coming to that place where we can deeply appreciate everything we encounter. It's not about "idiot compassion" which has been a subject for discussion out here in Buddha's blogland or "being nice all the time". Just as we can love our children but let them know that some actions are inappropriate, we can use this same discernment but without judgement and unkindness. Not easy, but possible.

I was deeply moved by what I experienced as a deep expression of truth as I listened to Reggie Ray speak. I have seen videos of him and heard his audio tapes and while I often liked what he had to say I was never really touched by it in the same way as hearing him speak for 2 hours. Tonight I experienced the humility and clear vehicle that he is for the Dharma. And for that I am truly grateful.

Have A Soft Heart & A Strong Back

Here's a picture of my soon not -to-be entry way. It is a time of coming and going, of endings and new beginnings, a time of letting go of old stuff to make space for the new. It is a time of finding a new way of being in the world.

There is a lot to train with these days. And my friend living precariously in her non running camper van is head teacher. I am learning a lot about non attachment and patience as the days unfold. I am working to find a solution to get her off the public street but so far there's a lot of work and not much in the results department.

And I am learning how little our society provides for "the have nots" I am learning how those of us who have are so comfortable inside our warm little cocoons, how we don't want anything to come in and disturb us. We might offer a suggestion, forward on an email, throw $10 in a street person's hat but that's as far as we usually venture out of the cocoon. I am not pointing any fingers here. I live inside my own cozy little cocoon. "Be willing to be disturbed by the truth." I can't remember now who said this but it floated by on the flat screen of my mind today. It is an eye opener. I get a glimpse of how unwanted and unconnected and alone these folks must feel. It truly breaks your heart.

Another phrase that came up for me today was: "Have a soft heart and a strong back." These are words from Trungpa Rinpoche. It was a good reminder as I continued to let my friend's situation touch me . I needed to remember to not fill up on a diet of worry. I needed to remember not to flail about in a frenzy and waste my energy. I needed to remember to exercise my strong back. Part of this was to follow all the leads, to check in on her and do what needed to be done.

Many phone calls filled up the day and furniture and trinkets left the house as our downsizing continued. There was even a bowl of Thai green curry at a local noodle shop and a good laugh to be had amongst it all. We posted a single bed for free on a local site and a lovely young couple with 3 kids came to claim it. When they had left my partner went to sweep up the dust bunnies that have natural homes under all beds. These bunnies looked like the jack rabbits of dust bunnies looming largely in the far corner. Well it turned out that the dust bunnies were in fact a dead bird,probably a sparrow brought in by the long gone, Bunny the cat (who left here in May)! We laughed at the thought that the young couple may have seen the bird. "Did you see that Susan, those people had a dead bird under there bed, eeww! And they didn't even have a cat!"

And so life goes on, with dead birds, and hopes for a place for my friend, and a scouting trip tomorrow for a new place for us to live; the varied tapestry that makes up a day and weaves together a life. And always the Dharma is there working behind the scene, delivering perspective and sanity to a sometimes crazy world.

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.

Blue Cake With Sprinkles At Zendotstudio

I felt I couldn't pass up posting today. How self absorbed is this? I just realized it's my blog's birthday! I posted for the first time last year on December 3oth. So here it is this toddler blog with a mouth full of pablum, smooshing pureed peas into its metaphorical little scalp and shrieking with delight.

And like any good toddler I've fallen down, had a tantrum or two (usually about my mother), gurgled and cooed when things went my way, put a pot on my head and acted the fool more than once. I have gotten into the crayons and paints. And I've messed around with the language spewing out all kinds of babble and unintelligible sounds. What do you expect from a toddler? Gosh, it's freeing to have low expectations. Takes that self imposed, prideful pressure off.

It's interesting to think back. Taking stock is a good Buddhist practice, I think. ...Looking at what we have done, what worked, what we might like to alter. How else can we grow and change and learn? How do we adjust our course? Become wiser? Honest reflection is the answer I think. And while it is human nature to have blind spots, things that we just don't see, if we look at our past actions they can help clarify what is important to us and help us decide how to move forward.

Interestingly, I think I applied much more care when I began blogging, spending more time composing and working on each piece of writing. I had lots of Dharma topics rolling around in my head that I wanted to write about. After a few days I started to write 100 days of Dharma which was a real exercise in discipline. There were many days I wondered "will I have anything to write about?" Surly the well is dry by now. But always something came to mind. It was an exercise in faith as well as discipline.

In the summer I did 30 days of small art projects which was again an exercise in discipline, this time in the visual department, rather than word sculpting. This was much more difficult for me. I found (and not to my surprise) how much time I would spend creating something that pleased me. There was much more critical judgement of the little pieces on my part. No dashing off a little work in 10 minutes (occasionally perhaps). I learned that acts of spontaneous creation were not my forte. But it is interesting to learn how we work, where we cling and get stuck, where our strongest expectations lie.

And in the great tradition of "how do I know what I think, until I see what I say" I learned a lot about my own human experience through blogging. I mined the depths of the every day. I got to be a little less self conscious by spilling the contents of my spleen and other internal organs onto the page.

And I have connected with lots of kindred spirits out here in the blog bog. I am awed by the vastness of the blogosphere and feel like I live in some tiny constellation in the vast dark universe of blogs. I am constantly discovering new blogs and from the very beginning (and much to my surprise) I was blown away by the creativity and imagination I had somehow discovered. I travelled oceans and continents to arrive at amazing and inspiring sites. This has been heartening to me, discovering these unknown treasures, a thriving counter culture of creativity and awareness. It exists slightly apart from the mundane world I live out on the street, that can often seemed filled with consumer consciousness and disregard for the things that seem deeply important.

In some ways I think the focus of my blog has shifted toward my visual art. I blog less than I did when I started. I had to look at the fact that I didn't want to just blog because I wanted to post everyday. I got to examine my motives. I got to look inside and see if I truly had something to share that day. And I found a balance between the real world and that of the deep blue computer screen.

So come and share a slice of cake with me. If I was all grown up I'd choose a cake that was a sumptuous dark chocolate with a middle layer of cheesecake and preserved cherries. But I'm a one year old and I want a blue cake with sprinkles and gummy bears. And I'm going to lean over and take a big bite out of the middle of the cake and then I'll probably try and stuff some ofthat ungodly blue icing up your nose. I will be giggling and sporting a blue icing mustache. What, where are you going?

Sukkha, Dukkha & Cranberry Sauce

I have fallen down the rabbit hole of family and holiday events and become only an apparition in the kingdom of blog. It has been a happy kind of falling. And where is the Dharma in that? Things are flowing smoothly along. I have less grist for the Dharma mill, less to blog about.

I remember my Zen teachers saying, when things are going well, we just go about our lives. We don't give it a lot of thought. It's when things are difficult that we really look to the Dharma to help us out, to light the way, to make us feel less crazy. Is that selfish or bad or just human nature?

I am savouring this time of things going well. Perhaps that is the Dharma of it. When we know that things don't have to be this way, that things don't always go well, it allows us to appreciate the preciousness of those times when all seems right in the world. And we've all been served our helpings of Dukkha in large or small dishes at some point.

It is a real joy to have our daughter, who lives several thousand miles away, home for several weeks. It warms my heart that the little girl who grumbled that her mother wouldn't buy jelly dinasour fruit snacks like all the other "normal" moms, way back when, is now studying to be a nutritionist. Cancel sugar, flour, animal products of any sort. Mom can now learn a few tricks from her. Tables turn, their contents get shaken up.

So when she suggested we have a "raw" Christmas dinner I extracted the dehydrator from the cupboard and we got to work. Here's a picture of dinner. We dressed it up in a suit and took it to see Santa Claus! Okay so no Santa Claus but it's cute anyway, complete with raw cranberry sauce, a version of mashed potatoes (made from raw parsnips), a raw stuffing made with mushrooms and a cashew cream and a dehydrated burger impersonating a turkey created from the loins of some shitake mushrooms, a few nuts and lots of herbs that smell like Christmas (sage, rosemary & thyme). Simon and Garfunkel did not drop by. Probably the no turkey thing kept them away.

There has been much visiting and chatting and just quiet sitting around. No rushing about, no packing in of thousands of events and activities, no dreaded or difficult visits with family and friends. We had a heart warming visit with family just before Christmas when we gathered to scatter my mother's ashes. It wasn't a sad event at all. We scattered ashes, we visited, we had dinner together and then we looked at old pictures of mom/grandma and listened to some recordings of my mother talking about her life that I had made a month or two before she died. Everyone wanted to hear what she had to say. It felt like sharing a very deep experience of getting to know my mother.

The lovely gift of the season has been this simple sense of easy togetherness, a few gifts, some tasty treats. And what does a budding nutritionist give their parents for Christmas? How about "Dr. Jensen's Guide to Diet and Detoxification" & "Dr Jensen's Guide to Better Bowel Care" (some interesting photos here, not recommended for the squeamish and a section that qualifies for the comment, kid's you might not want to try this at home). And I haven't even got to the "Encyclopedia of Natural Healing". I might even get healthy yet! " It is both a hoot to get these, an expression of caring and an invitation to better health.

I will end with a quote from Bernard Jensen from his "Guide to Diet & Detoxification": "Nature's creative power exceeds man's inclination to destroy." This seems like an optimistic world view, perhaps a vision for planetary detoxification?

Buddhist Cowboy Songs

Last night just before the howling winds started and in the middle of a torrential downpour, in the dark of night (7pm eek) we went to hear Brad Warner's public talk at UVic's Interfaith Chapel. After all the vitriolic commentary that swirls around him in the blog world I was too curious not to go. I will confess that I don't read his blog on a regular basis and that I did read his book "Hard Core Zen" when it came out. I bought the book for my daughter who was seriously into the "Punk" music at the time, thinking it might appeal to her. In last nights talk, someone asked about his books and he said he originally thought of "Hardcore Zen" as something he was writing for his 14 year old nephew and never really expected to get it published.

It was an interesting evening. Warner presented as a very youngish looking (my friend asked if he'd written the book when he was 12!), reasonably at ease looking guy. He looked like he needed a shot of sunshine or geritol. Some of my meat eating friends might have suggested he looked like he needed a good steak! My preconceived ideas about him from "Hardcore Zen" and the second hand commentary I'd heard in the blog world, had me thinking he was a bit of a provocateur and a little cocky. I watched my own reaction as the talk opened and I thought to myself, "I can feel myself getting ready to bristle and be all fault findy. I can look at him through the jaundice tinted glasses of preconceived opinion. I can let other people make up my mind for me OR I can just take him at face value. I chose face value, instead of value loaded. I could feel the shift. I was just listening now. I was not searching for things to prop up any "ideas" I might already be holding about him. It was a much more pleasant way to receive his words.

He was low key and pretty soft spoken. He is irreverant, but frankly that's a quality I like. And he was not the least bit confrontational or provocative. He described himself as a pretty conservative Soto Zen kinda guy. I could see that perhaps his inclination to be a little flippant could get him into trouble, but it didn't last night. I cannot refer to any of the content in his latest book which some find offensive, because I haven't read it.

My agreement with myself was I would take him as I found him. He was not a particularly engaging speaker. He was not an orator that fired you up and inspired even the unconverted. He chose to simply answer audience questions rather than deliver a talk which is a responsive point of view. I didn't disagree or find fault with any of the answers he gave. He seemed to know his Dharma. He didn't seem full of himself or impressed with himself. He seemed very human, sometimes mumbling or loosing his train of thought. He didn't appear to "need" to be anyone in particular. He didn't appear to need to be a punk rock guy (he actually reminded me of my electrician, a t-shirt, jeans a hoody, slightly messy hair and some facial hair). He didn't appear to "need" to be a good speaker or be overly concerned that we like him, no fabulous stories, no name dropping. Just honest answers to the questions posed.

He talked about the need for some form in practice and that he had tried it with none and that it didn't feel right. He pointed out that different practitioners opt for observing different aspects of form. Someone asked him about transmission but not as a personal affront and he answered in a very non defensive way. He said his teacher described transmission as a recognition by the teacher that the student has understood the teachings in some deep and essential way and is therefore qualified to teach.

Someone asked about enlightenment and he gave the good Zen answer, that you may have an experience that matches your idea of an enlightenment experience but that doesn't make you enlightened. He told a story of how he had described such an experience to his teacher and the teacher said something to him like " you're a comic book kinda guy, you have a pretty active imagination." He talked about how there are references that show that even the Buddha continued to meet Mara after he was enlightened.

Initially, Eshu and Warner shared a little banter and conversation over the on-line Sangha thing verses the real life Sangha experience. They had a little fun with this, comparing it to internet sex with Eshu asking well isn't some better than none? Eshu even pulled a local paper out of his robe and showed the write up about Warner on the page opposite adds for "consenting adults". Everyone had a little giggle over that one. Zen for consenting adults... In the end Warner's comments were that virtual Sangha is not a replacement for the real life experience but that it can augment practice.

I asked Warner about all the who-ha that goes on out in the blog world about him and if he is intentionally provocative. His answer was that people get all fired up over things that he doesn't intend as provocative and then seem not to bite when he is intentionally provocative. And perhaps this all ties in with the virtual/ real life based meeting of teachers and students and Dharma practitioners. Maybe the people who froth and fume over Warner might feel differently if they were sitting in the same room with him. Maybe that face to face interaction would diffuse some of the reactions that seem to arise in response to Warner's on-line presence. Or maybe a Zen punch or two might be delivered. You may love him or hate him or perhaps you couldn't care less. But if he makes you think deeply about how you view the Dharma, well then he's done his job.

Zendots To Zen Squares

If I'm Zen Dot Studio then what happens when I paint squares? Is that a koan? Are these Zen Squares? And what is Zen Squared? Is that a math-ematical equation? Would Einstein know the answer?

We've all said "shit happens" or am I leaping into the realm of giant assumptions? But sometimes fun things happen too! This little painting happened the other day in the studio. I say this because in truth that's how it is sometimes. Things emerge from somewhere and you recognize them as something to work with rather than something to line the bin with. When work goes well I never really feel like " I did it". I am often as surprised as anyone at the end result! Look what fell off the easel. Where'd that come from?

I don't know if you can see but I cut little squares of words out to add in. Come on in for a closer look. Little words like meditation and happiness, and self and faith and see and kindness and few more. Something about it made me think "encaustic" and because I don't work in that medium I decided to do a little kamikaze encaustic. I melted some beeswax and applied it to the surface. I used an embossing heat gun to smooth out the wax and called it done! For me there's a retro feel about it all but also a feel of film stock and pixels. These little squares are just jumping around. Also there is a sense of the ethereal, of mystery and foreigness too, maybe French. Someone on one of the art blogs was talking about getting sound or taste relating to colour, for me it's just feeling.

And where is the Dharma for me in all of this? I am really relishing taking back my studio from the clean state of ever preparedness for the real estate market. And two observations come to mind. After a long period of not much studio time I seem to have more creative energy. It's like it was a dormant, underground period that was helpful. It wasn't like, oh I haven't been working, now I'm stiff and arthritic and I need time to limber up. Quite the opposite.

And that is the mystery I think. We never know what will happen. It is about relinquishing expectations and control and just being with what is. And well tomorrow who knows what? Maybe everything will come up black smears and brown lumps. Where I do have choice is in how I view it. Barry over at the Ox Herding Blog once said something that really struck me, "we're always saying things like "expect the best but be prepared for the worst." Why don't we prepare for the best?" he suggested. Something about that reminded me of a saying my Zen teacher has:"look up".

From a lot of the reading I've done on the human mind, it seems we're a hard wired to "look down" or at least behind us to see what's chasing us. It takes a conscious effort, a turning of the mind (at least for me) to expect the best and look up. It's subtle and it's something I find I need to be constantly vigilant about. That old monkey mind is a busy little customer, that often likes to fling you-know-what at anyone who might decide to enter the temple. And if we know that's what monkeys do, well then we don't have to get too excited about it. We just use whatever skillful means we know to send them on their way. Or maybe we just enter by a different door? Happy monkey hunting. And be careful, I hear they have been known to bite.

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!)

Refining Our Lives

I have reinvented "Bubblegum Buddha". In her first incarnation she had no face or detailing. She was simply an ethereal emanation of a Buddha. I liked her then and I like her now. She has been a resident in my studio for a while and lately I have been reinventing, retouching, adding to some older paintings.

Isn't this a lot like what we do to ourselves? Isn't that the refining our practice, taking the base metal of ourselves and turning it to something precious that shines? As time goes on things call out for attention and/or change and we attend to them as seems appropriate. Not that we are always wiser, but if we pay attention and do the best we can, that's all life really asks for I think. The older faceless Buddha seemed clumsier, this one more delicate and detailed.

So it feels like some stage of life, some point on the path where I am pausing to look back and adjust the work I had previously done. I feel a little more skillful in adding the detail to my paintings. And this seems to be the result that "confidence comes with doing, with practice." The more I paint, the clearer it becomes what needs some tweeking in previous work. So in life. Perhaps the eye becomes clearer, the hand more skillful?

I think I can carry over this lesson into other parts of my life. It reminds me that in Malcolm Gladwell's most recent book, "Outliers" he talks about the 10,000 hour rule. Basically that's how long it takes to develop competency at any craft or activity.

The Dharma lesson that has been arriving at my doorstep recently has to do with my relation to others, mainly friends and neighbours. I have noticed myself becoming irritated in several instances lately and wondering "why can't I be more understanding, more compassionate". As we get ready to put our house on the market I feel irritated at the new tenant next door who has filled the front yard with large plastic toys and hangs towels and mats up and down the stair railing close to our windows. A friend tells me a story that's troubling her over and over again, in great detail. In my mind I know it is my self centred view that makes me feel irritated in these situations. I am thinking about me and mine. I am not thinking about them. I see myself as the centre of the universe and it causes me to suffer.

I am clear that it is not helpful for me or my friend to hear the same story of her problem over and over. I recognize her agitated telling of her story as a fine example of what our minds do. I listen and empathize for a bit and offer the suggestions that most of where we go is speculation and not so helpful. We move on to other subjects. I also realize that I need to hold the neighbours in some space in my heart other than "annoyance" and so I work with this. Only then will I be open to a possible solution to the problem.

So while these things may seem small and petty they are the heart of the Dharma practice for me. ....Working with what comes to you. Working with these small things I chip away at my habitual tendencies and work to free myself from another layer of greed, hate and delusion. The following quote by Chogyam Trungpa seems particularly apt for me this week: "Compassion automatically invites you to relate with people because you no longer regard people as a drain on your energy."

nger regard people as a drain on your energy.”

Rest Your Life On The Dharma

Ah, it's a slippery slope and I'm already at the bottom.  You don't want to hear about it.  Another piece of photo art instead of studio art.  As my friend the Buddhist monk and I sometimes chuckle we are "delinquent" types often ready to bend and play with the rules.  And yes I have excuses.  We delinquent types always do.  But I won't bore you with them.  

This delicious rock is from the beautiful Quadra Island and reminded me of an abstract painting lying there on the beach.  How could I not bring it home?  How could I not share it with you?  I could say something like "the Dharma rocks" but you won't catch me saying anything so foolish and age inappropriate as that, even if it does.  

And if I were to use this photo as a jumping off point for writing about the Dharma I would refer back the solid nature of that rock,  how it is such a good solid foundation to rest things on.  And from my earliest encounters with my Zen teacher I found that practice and the Dharma brought sanity to my life and gave me a foundation on which to make wiser, more wholesome choices in my daily life.  Not that I could always do it, not that I could always get it right, but the Dharma helped me point myself in that direction.  Dharma as bow, me as arrow.  As time went on I came to have a first hand understanding  about the suffering that leads to the end of suffering, instead of the suffering that leads to more suffering.  I could work with my life, now that was exciting stuff.

In my previous incarnation as a Dharma dabbler I felt battered about by life, the winds and waves of human interaction and emotions.  It made me crazy sometimes and I didn't understand why.  Why does this happen to me?  What am I doing wrong?  Trekking  the peaks and valleys of daily life just tired me out and puzzled me.  But the Dharma made the crazy, broken puzzle I lived in make sense.  It was a place to rest my longings and frustrations, a place of great logic and wisdom.  Suddenly the fuzzy bits started coming into focus.

I can no longer imagine how I lived my life without the Dharma to help me through the narrow spots, over the rapids, around the sharp broken bottles of life.  How do you work with your anger without the Dharma?  How do you understand the strange things (sometimes unkind things) that people do?  How do you have cancer without the Dharma?  How do you become kinder without the Dharma?  How do you learn to plunge in and savour fleeting chats with strangers without the Dharma?

And here is a wonderful quote from the Dhammapada that reminds me that the Dharma is like a sumptuous piece of cheesecake or chocolate cake, meant to be shared:
The gift of Dharma excels all other gifts.

The flavor of Dharma excels all other flavors

The pleasure of the Dharma excels all other pleasures.

One who has destroyed craving overcomes all sorrow. 
Pass it on.

Off To Dreamland Barking Furiously

Off To Dreamland Barking Furiously

Mixed Media on Matte Board

8" x 8' matte, image size 3.75" x 4.5"

$25 including shipping in North America

Okay I write foolish stuff, I might as well have some foolish art to go with it.  I would love to be thought of and remembered as a Zen fool but I think I might have a lot of work to do to get the Zen part right.  I love polka dots - just look at that word - how can you not like it, dots doing what?   Why the polka of course - all over the page.  And then there is the strange little animal ripped and born from bits of brightly coloured paper.  And of course like a cherry on top, just a few random words cut from a vintage Children's story book.  I love nothing better than creating crazy bits of ransom note text.  Maybe I should write a whole blog in this way?  Pure and utter nonsense.  What?  What's that you say?  "I already have a license on the pure and utter nonsense part."  Why thank-you.  Just what I was aiming for.  Oh, oh.  We're on a slippery slope, kids.  I think I better get off the crazy carpet quick.

I found this quote today in an old journal and I loved it, among many others I'd copied down from Ryokan,

 "If you don't write of things deep inside

   Your own heart

 What's the use of churning out so many words?"  

Did he read my blog???  Do his words stand in contrast to what I've written above?  I don't think so.  There is foolishness and lightness and playfulness inside my own heart.  There is in truth nothing I like better than a big, juicy chunk of foolishness.  And it always goes with the Dharma in my mind.  They can sit quite comfortably on the same plate.  Stir fried crazy Dharma hash with tofu.  I think sometimes some practitioners get too serious for their own good, or maybe that's for my good.  They take themselves and their practice too seriously.  Can get a little boring and lifeless.  And of course there is a balance here.  It would never be my intention to be disrespectful.  Some of the most sincere practitioners I know have a great sense of humour.  And watch the Dalai Lama, a lot of laughter goes on there.

And while I might be accused of churning out a lot of words I think a good lot of them come from deep inside my own heart as Ryokan says.  I write about my life because that is the only way I know how to practice.  I wake up with the Dharma peeking at me as I open one sleep smudged eye.  It follows me around, it falls on me, jumps out at me from behind  doors, peers back at me in the mirror.  Sometimes I can accept it with grace and sometimes it stings when it squirts me in the eye .  And so I churn out some words here in my blog, like butter or ice cream and flavour it with tiny sprinkles of heart, and of course on a good day I put a reindeer on top.

Creator & Critic Find Their Seats

Tatami Dream

Mixed media on matte board

8" x 8"  matte, image size 3.75" x 4.5"

$25 includes shipping in North America

This little abstract piece is done in neutral, serene shades I don't often work in.  I love the feel of these subdued colours of nature but find myself most often working in vibrant colours for reasons I don't really understand.  Art is like that.  A lot of the time you are doing things that are really beyond your understanding, working from somewhere deeper and more ethereal and intuitive.  The really difficult thing  is to not stand in judgement of what you have done.  I find my mind so often wants to rush to "I like, I don't like" and as we all know,  judgement it is not a very helpful companion.  In fact it's downright paralyzing and counter productive.  And yet it is such an habitual response, done in the blink of an eye, without a breath or a conscious thought.  It is not malicious, simply reflexive and lacking in wisdom. 

 The funny thing is you'd think I'd learn because some of the things I've wanted to fling out the window at some point, later become the things I like the best.  These are pieces that I often regard as beyond recovery at some point and yet when I keep on working they are transformed.  I push past the chaos and the ennui and come out the other end.  It is such good practice but always feels so hard at the time.  There I am with my little time manager hat on, wondering if I've wasted hours, wanting the problem resolved.  The sense of discomfort at walking into the unknown is palpable.  And there is no guarantee that it will always work out just because I persevere.  There is no formula, no equation that goes (many hours + perseverance + agitation = success). (This is as close as I get to math.)

What I do know about writing and art making is that there is a creative, intuitive aspect that needs to just be let loose, given free reign.  Sometimes it takes a long time for the creative furnace to warm up and sometimes you produce a lot of smoke and a little fizzle.  But you have to have faith and work without question.  Sometimes that furnace heats up and a spark ignites from somewhere beyond.  And that is when you truly connect with some special energy.  It's where all really great art comes from, the place where the spark catches and flames transmute the ordinary into something flaming and miraculous.  Sometimes (and you've heard artists say this) it hardly seems to have anything to do with them.  You can look at what you've created and be as surprised as a stranger and wonder "where did that come from?'

And there is a second part of the process, the evaluative part, where you do stand back and consider and edit the work.  "No it needs something else, no it looks a bit flat or yes it's good, just the way it is."  It might be the honesty to see that the first 5 (or 50)  pages of writing need to be chucked.   So the evaluator self has value and a place in creation but it seems that it's not good to get it mixed up with the creator, who just needs to move and flow and muck about.  This creator is interrupted by the evaluator, editor self.  They are two different parts of the process.  And I find sometimes there needs to be a good deal of space between the two.  There needs to be some distance before you change hats from creator to editor, otherwise the hats get tangled and you start to feel like the two headed monster from Sesame Street.  It's kind of like when your eyes need to adjust after being in the bright light.  If your inner eye is still in creator mode, the focus of the editor's eye is a bit blurry and unreliable.

Art is such good practice in many ways, so much of what operates as the truth in other parts of our life is there is small bite sized pieces waiting for us as we step through the studio door or sit down at the computer.  It is training in its own way, just waiting patiently for us to wake up.  As my Zen teacher always says, "the eternal can wait forever, how long can we wait?"