It's Noisy In Here

Today was our third day on the small island we are staying on and it feels like I've slowed down to something approx-imating "island time".  Not that I consider myself a speedy person, but it's like when you go on retreat and at some point you just settle into it.  Here, there is less to be done, more sitting time, more walking time, time for an afternoon nap.

And in the quiet, more isolated island life it is interesting to see that less Dharma "tidbits" are served up to me, the hot flaming morsels of everyday life that burn as they go down.  It reminds me of the story of the monk who sat in a cave in meditation for 20 years and felt very calm and peaceful and then rejoins the world.  With the first nudging he pushes right back.  There is no one nudging me here.  The rubbing up against others than can seem so painful seems minimal here.  The opportunities for practicing with your jagged edges are less.  And in a way that is a good thing, a pause, a breath, a small reprieve.  I think we need this sometimes.  It's like an opportunity to digest, as if we're a snake who just swallowed some Dharma frog, all whole and wriggly.   

I am savouring it all:  the quiet, the breeze, the abundance of air, just spending most of the day outside.  Out here you get to sense the energy of the natural world when you slow down.  Today I took a nap on the grass, pressed up against the earth, soaking up its energy.  Such a healing thing.  How often do we do this when we live in the city?  We are getting to know the eagles we are feeding: the shy one that will watch the chicken leg we toss out but seldom come for it, and the other one that will swoop down almost instantly and scoop up the offering.  We can tell them apart because they always sit on different branches, the shy one always comes first and sits on the top branch, turning his head almost full circle, watching in all directions.  Today when we thought he was checking our menu offering, he glided to the ocean (an enormous distance) and scooped up a fish.  The eagles are spooked by us because we are not the usual folks that live here.  Would you think an eagle could distinguish between one of us humans and another.  Almost instantly it seems, by our movements, our habits, by who knows what.  We are different enough to make them wary.  Such are the wonders of the natural world when you have time to hang out there.

I have been thinking about noise, partly because it is quiet here but also because there is still noise, barking dogs, voices carrying across the water, a generator here, some music wafting in from a fish boat radio.  At home I have been feeling pressed by noise on either side of my house for a variety of reasons.  It has become my latest koan.  Partly it happens as people spend more time outside, partly because of changes in the rental house next door.  It is not my preferences that are a problem, it is my attachment to them.  The noise raises irritation in me and then I add on by wishing it didn't bother me.  As is always the case I create my own suffering.  First by pushing away the noise and then by pushing away, my pushing away, if you know what I mean.  I could suffer once, but apparently I prefer to supersize the suffering (would you like fries with that?)

When I looked at what bothered me about the noise in my neighbourhood last week I saw something interesting.  When the  dog was barking next door and the owners partying in the backyard I wasn't responding just to the noise as it was at that moment but my mind had done a fast frame to the future.  I was worrying that this noise would make our house hard to sell when the time comes.  Imagined situations, imagined outcomes, kind of like the Mark Twain quote that goes something like: "My life has been a series of tragedies, some of which have actually happened."  It's one thing to feel annoyed at a bark, it's another thing to turn it into a pack of rabid dogs ruining your life.  My mind is kind of like a ferrari, from present to future projection in 6 seconds or less.

And so when I came to this quiet rural setting and heard all kinds of sounds I realized that if you don't make peace in some way with your "noise" whatever it is, it will follow you around wherever you go.  This metaphorical noise will get louder and louder and more painful until you look it in the eye and address it in the form that it needs to be addressed in.  We all have these lovely bittersweet koans,  the ones that make us crazy but will give us great peace when we finally approach them and find that whatever it was we thought was snarling and drooling at us, really requires our attention and compassion.  It is different than we imagined and making friends with it in some way will set us free.  It is the most courageous thing we will ever do, look at what makes us crazy, really see it and make peace with it in some way.   I am talking to myself now.  I just hope I don't have my hands over my ears.

Zen Dust

This morning as I was sitting in meditation I got a little insight into the koan of stress I've been working with lately.  (I get some of my best ideas & insights when I'm sitting.  That certainly keeps me coming back to my cushion for more!)  A couple of things became clearer to me. I have been highly aware of a feeling of bodily stress lately, brought on by the thought that I have a lot of things to do.  This morning I could see clearly that what the mind was doing here was an intense (but subtle) form of grasping or clinging.  I had this sense that my whole body was somehow reaching forward, into the future, if that makes any sense.  

Next I could see that this grasping was definitely me wanting to be in the driver's seat, wanting to control what happened.  And then it was like a little set of dominoes.  I could see this as a form of fear, this wanting to be in control, this needing to get things done.  And as I write this I realize what is fear, but a lack of faith?  There it is my grasping, my needing things to be a certain way,  my fears are all really a lack of faith.  Because faith is really a trusting that everything is fine just the way it is.  We are always taken care of and what we need is always right there for us.  Our work is really just to be present, and make our choices from that quiet place of non grasping, if we can.  If not, well what we need will come to us as well.  When we don't get it, the lesson just keeps coming back to us until we do.

And while this came as understanding I was also reminded that the desire to understand is another form of wanting.  And that as much as anything when we are in a place of confusion we need to let go of our desire to understand.  Such a western mind thing, it seems to me.  We are so attached to figuring things out and having to understand  (says she who feels she had figured something out this morning! ah we are such funny creatures,  my teacher would say!)  Ah, to simply appreciate the world in it's complexity and mystery, there is a pleasure if and when we can do it.

So that was my further exploration of the koan of stress that I wrote about in "What is the sound of one broom sweeping"?  A proverbial shaking out of the dusty broom, for now.  And so I have posted this unfinished painting that makes me cringe a bit.  It reminds me to rededicate myself to that silent, what do I know approach, to creating my art.  An approach where I simply go into my studio and spend some time with a piece.  I am not grasping after "I want to finish this".  I am not grasping after "I'd like to get on to the next piece."  I am not judging it saying "I think you're ugly."  I will just spend some time with it, getting to know it, with no agenda.  And maybe it will whisper something to me about where it wants to go or what it wants to be.  Or maybe it will remain a complete mystery to me for a while longer.  I just need to have faith.  And perhaps a nice coffee to go with it.

What Is The Sound Of One Broom Sweeping?

You know what a koan is, right?  It's one of those Zen riddles that seems esoteric and difficult to solve.  They can't be solved with the thinking mind.  The answer comes from a deeper understanding within. For me these little riddles pop up in daily life.  One I've been working with for the last couple of weeks goes like this:  I feel this sense of stress (noticed especially when I sit in meditation).  It is always there and it comes from thinking about how many things I have to do.  I somehow feel chased around by my potential activities. I can see this little picture of me running with a broom chasing behind me!  Eek I've become my own cartoon!  

The activities are things I love (I even get a strange pleasure out of house work when I feel I have the time to attend to it with care).  But lately I find myself with this uncomfortable forward momentum that I sense as stress in my body.  I feel the tensing and tightening of muscles and sense that this tightness is always lurking in the background.  It doesn't feel good and it sucks the joy out of the individual activities.   So what to do???   That is the Koan.  Sheesh that's an awfully long koan.  Usually they're like "what's the sound of of one hand clapping?"  "What was your original face before you were born?"

Each morning as I sit I vow to be more present as I go about my work but somehow this intention quickly evaporates and I'm off to the races:  emails,  a chore or two or an errand,  computer stuff,  painting, lunch with friends ..... you get the gist of it .... I bet your life is like that too.  And yet it is the spirit or intention of how each thing is done that somehow feels a little off. 

On it's most basic level maybe it's about remembering to breathe.  The faster I'm hurtling myself into the future, the more I need to slow down.  Sometimes a little mantra that I say to myself like, "everything is fine just the way it is" can be a helpful way to reorient.  Maybe it's all just a little nudge to be more present, to practice awareness at a deeper level, become more committed to it.  While I sense that this tension starts in my mind where I really feel it is in my body so maybe it's a call to integration, to synchronize the two.  In one of the Asian languages they don't even separate the mind and body as we do in the west.  It's all just the heart/mind.   

If I think of it in terms of the story that I am telling myself about life, the subtle  background note is, the more you do the better your life will be. Is it about a mistaken conclusion about who really is in control here? And while the cause might remain unknown to me it never hurts to look at our stories and adjust the ones based on faulty logic and basic untruths.

So this is my koan.  As I told it to a friend who came to have a walk down by the ocean today she became quite animated confessing that she was struggling with exactly this same sense of uneasiness with all that needed to be done in a day.  When I told my partner about my koan this morning he suggested I read a small chapter in a book I'd bought him.  The book called "Zen Guitar" by Philip Toshio Sudo turns out to be quite excellent and the ideas can be extrapolated to any area of life.  But I will end with a quote from the book that seemed helpful to me and my koan  (sounds like that old song me and my shadow): "Do what has to be done, when it has to be done, as well as it can be done, and do it that way every time."