Transitions

I am thinking about "trans itions" tonight as I head into the last few days as a pro fessional wanderer. It seems there is always an edginess to these times of change, moving from one activity to another. The transition can be as simple as turning off the television or getting up from the dinner table. There is that feeling of "what next". Or our transition might be as final as our last breath in this life. In truth we are always moving into the next unknown moment.

And if we pause we will find the space between one activity and the next. Do we notice it? Do we contemplate it? Do we approach it with awareness? Or are we drawn by discomfort and fear into some habitual reaction or self comforting behaviour? Do we slide into the next moment without noticing? Whoops how did I get here?

These times of subtle or major changes are opportunities. We can make our choices with awareness and care or we can slide or grab or float into the next phase of the day, of our life. Transitions can be fraught with danger and are always filled with possibility. And one time we notice, the next time we don't.

So the me of the sense world is cramming in every last drop of Portlandian goodness before I return to a quieter life. I have had coffee and a treat at Sweet Pea's vegan bakery and checked out the shelves of "Food Fight" the vegan grocery store next door. I have discovered the delicious Townshends Kombucha and visited the brimming shelves of Powell's Bookstore and been tickled by the eclectic art supplies at "Collage" on Alberta St. I have admired Portland's ability to mix wonderful modern architecture with an eclectic mix of old. I love the little neighbourhoods with high streets of shops and restaurants that thrive here. There is a creative, vibrant heart to this city. I imagine that everybody here has their finger in some creative pot, owns a mac and never eats at home.

And as I plan the last list of things to see and do I also look forward to unpacking the car, moving into a new place to live and a life that doesn't consist of getting in the car every few days and driving for hours. And I know that with the transition there will be some sense of antsyness when the movement stops, that feeling of being a bit lost, of trying to figure out what to do next. There will be the urge to comfort myself with some habitual behaviour rather than to feel the discomfort of the transition. At least that is what I imagine as I get ready to move into the next part of my life.

Another Zen Dance Lesson, Ouch My Toes Hurt!

"The Japanese word for crisis, kiki, translates two ways: as "danger occasion," but also "danger oppor-tunity."  Look for the opportunity in the chance occurrence.  How you react to the unexpected reveals your true spirit.  In this dojo, learn to fall like a cat -- on your feet."  Philip Toshio Sudo, "Zen Guitar"

Well it was hardly a crisis situation but it was the unexpected and rather than land like a cat, I did the stunned bird slides down the window routine.  And we won't go into what my true spirit looked like when it was revealed.  I don't think I am quite up to that sight.  If you'd seen it, you'd probably have called 911.

You've heard me call my mother my great teacher if you've stopped by here before and yesterday, class was in.  We were doing our tango of pain.  She doing a little manipulation, me feeling angry and trapped.  (I thought we were done with that one!)  Just when you think you're out of the woods, another tree falls on you.  And yet, and yet .... I know this is what practice is about.  Life does not exist to make me happy.  And sometimes we are just not that skillful ....  That was yesterday and today I have the misery hangover.

 And if I didn't already feel bad and mad, my Zen teacher reminded me that I can do better, I can come up with some creative solutions to the problem.  She reminds me how I walk right into these things and that my view of my mother is coloured by seeing her as a manipulator.  And she reminds me that my aim is really to respond with compassion to my mother.  She acknowledges that this is all difficult but that she knows I can do it and that's what training is all about.  If I'm looking for sympathy (which I am, just a small slice, please, with a little ice cream) I won't find any here.  Do you know the old joke  about if you're looking for sympathy (one of my personal favourites and a bit too rude to repeat here) you'll find it in the dictionary between 2 words that begin with S.  I'll give you a hint, one is a venereal disease and the other is the impolite term for excrement.

So I'm feeling kinda low.  It's March, it's snowing and the pace of my day has felt like I'm walking in molasses.  But as I feel sorry for myself I am jolted awake as I read a piece on the  situation in Tibet over at Chaplain Danny's blog and I think to myself, man what are you complaining about?  It snaps me into a new reality.  As Humphrey Bogart said in Casablanca "my problems don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world..."  And I lighten up a little, not a lot, but a little.  There's a full moon hanging around outside the bedroom window right now, ginger tea and cookies are on the way and life is pretty good by any standards. We'll try the kiki thing again tomorrow.

bows to you all and good night.