We Are The Stories

studio shot

As I got ready for a visit with a friend I haven't seen in a while the thought crossed my mind that I was looking forward to hearing the story of how her life was right now. And I thought about how I would share the stories of my life, what was blooming and wilting, what I'd neglected or nourished. I looked forward to the walking and talking we were going to do.

And then I realized we humans have always told stories, to our friends, to our children, to our lovers. Really, we are all about the stories. We create them, we live in them, we anticipate them. It does something important for us, it connects us, it helps us understand, it comforts us.  Sitting around fires or wells or tables we have told and continue to tell the story of family, our work, our history, of love and betrayal, of amazing feats and failures. Depending on our inclination we peer into the past and tell those stories. Or we might be inclined to tell the stories of the future as we nurture our aspirations and intentions. We love to read a good story, to watch a good story but it is the interactive stories that build and sustain relationships and help us make sense of our lives.  These are the real meat and potatoes of life (we do offer a vegetarian substitution here, no extra charge).

two on the wall

My friend and I, as we covered the ups and downs of our 7 kilometer walk told each other the stories of now; what was going on what puzzled us, what troubled us, and where we were learning and growing, the funny bits, the awkward bits. We offered each other encouragement and insight as we are want to do, and shared bits of wisdom that had been gifted to us over the years that might be helpful to the other.

It can be in the hearing ourselves tell the story that we make sense of them because often that's what we're trying to do.  It's like EM Forster's comment "how do I know what I think until I see what I say", which is about writing but works equally well for the oral tradition. We connect through the sharing of our stories. We offer our vulnerability to another so that they may share theirs., so they feel less alone. We become visible to one another in all our confused imperfections and our shared humanness.

Though the content may be different, the eternal themes stitch us together. Here are a few we covered as we passed through patches of sun and shade on the road, walked up hill and down, paused to enquire about a neighbour's garden: It can be difficult for us and those around us to effect real change. Things don't always work out the way we expected. People don't do what we think they should.  We don't do what people think we should. People change. Feelings get hurt, soft spots get poked. Wasps sting us. Learning and growth make it all worth while. We are all works in progress.  Our shared stories connect us little human dots.  It warms our heart to know someone cares enough to want to hear our story. We recognize the generosity of our own heart (all of us) as we listen to the other person's story.

tracings

It's been so long since I've posted (I kind of feel like I'm writing a letter to a dear friend) There are so many tiny bits of story I want to share. Mostly it's the tidbits that have inspired me that I think might uplift someone else. I have read "The Brain That Changes Itself" and "The Brain's Way of Healing", both about the incredible power and weirdness of neuroplasticity. I love to hear about the science of the mind but always it feels incomplete if it leaves off there. We are so much more than science can ever comprehend. But the books inspired me to take a Feldenkrais class which accesses the some of the hidden potential of the brain. I was smitten by James Doty's "Into The Magic Shop" which is written like a page turner and offers a non Buddhist approach to Eastern practices.

Doubt has been up on my art radar with huge intensity and I've been reluctant to share for a few reasons but it's a worthwhile dissection I think. If I'm fortunate the patient will not survive dissection. It's been an interesting few months but that's another blog post.

in progress

And the last tidbit: On a long drive to the most westerly part of our coast we listened to a recorded retreat by Eckhart Tolle (sorry Lynette) and found such wise simplicity. One thing really resonated. It went something like this: A lot of the time when we complain and grumble about people and situations what we are really saying is "this shouldn't be happening" which is vaguely astounding when you think of it this way. One morning as I listened to my neighbour filling the airwaves with industrial park sounds from his woodworking shop I realized (as I grumbled) that I was saying just that. And it struck me as ridiculous because, it was happening. Tolle reminds us that we have a choice about how we are going to hold that situation.  We can allow it to disturb us and flavour our day with bitterness. We can brace ourselves against it or we can find a way to be with what is. And this has stuck with me as I recognize myself in big and small ways saying "this shouldn't be happening" and reorient myself.  So wishing you days filled with "this should be happening" or at least "this is happening". Be well.

Incidents, Intention and New Years

On the easel

Time with it's minutes and years is a  completely human construct. Like countries, where no line marks the passing from one to another, so it is with years. Did you see a curtain being drawn on the old year last night, a door closing, a trap door opening? Me neither and yet I love the idea of a new year. It gives us humans the opportunity to contemplate what has passed and in that light, set intentions for the part of our lives that lies ahead. It's kind of a gathering and sorting phase. We look back before we move forward and in some way reflect on what worked and didn't and set our intentions for the future. It's like a magical, internal decluttering process. "Let me give this part of my life to the thrift shop. I'll hang that idea in the back closet. And I'll put that practice in the top drawer."

In a way it really is all about taking time in a larger way to think about our intentions and then see how we might really act on them. Lately I have been working a lot with specific meditations that encourage me to see myself and the world in new ways, to trust in the greater intelligence that we are all part of.

Walking The Fields

As we step into this new year I wanted to share two things that seem important to me right now.  The first one is this quote from Joseph Campbell that a friend sent to me. It seems like such a good, overarching attitude to life:

“Nietzsche was the one who did the job for me. At a certain moment in his life, the idea came to him of what he called ‘the love of your fate.’ Whatever your fate is, whatever the hell happens, you say, ‘This is what I need.’ It may look like a wreck, but go at it as though it were an opportunity, a challenge. If you bring love to that moment—not discouragement—you will find the strength is there. Any disaster that you can survive is an improvement in your character, your stature, and your life. What a privilege! This is when the spontaneity of your own nature will have a chance to flow.

"Then, when looking back at your life, you will see that the moments which seemed to be great failures followed by wreckage were the incidents that shaped the life you have now. You’ll see that this is really true. Nothing can happen to you that is not positive. Even though it looks and feels at the moment like a negative crisis, it is not. The crisis throws you back, and when you are required to exhibit strength, it comes.”

From "A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living"

Path To The Sky

The other piece that seems important to me as I look forward is that whatever wonderful thoughts and inspiring quotes we read, to make any real, positive changes in ourselves (and that's the only place we can effect change) we must "practice" whatever it is. It might be meditation or a gratitude practice but we must "do it" and we need to do it over a period of time for it to change us into who we want to become, whatever that is; kinder, more peaceful, more compassionate, happier, less anxious. So here's a lovely little interview between Rick Hanson and his son that offers us the encouragement to do something that contributes to our own well being.

https://fwb.rickhanson.net/RckIntvw-FrGf

Wishing you all a 2016 filled with lots of creative adventures, good health, and the practices that will fill your hearts with joy and peace. One of the things that has come up on my radar a lot in the last few days is gratitude practice. I plan to start and attempt to sustain 3 notes of gratitude each day.

Full Contact Sudoku & Other Family Games

36"x36" mixed media with cold wax

I'm not going to mention any names or anything but I really think someone should send me a tee shirt that says, "I survived sudoku".  I mean full contact sudoku, where I am pinned in a corner by a nonagenarian with a sharp pencil and hard pink eraser, annoyance cranking up to about  7 on my richter scale.  Now this is what I call good practice.  Not that I ever had any illusions about my proximity to enlightenment, but you know that saying, "if you think you're enlightened, go spend some time with your family" (blood related or otherwise). In this particular scenario I managed to dial down the richter scale and  have fun learning about sudoku which I had previously regarded as a close relative to arsenic.

I didn't just whip over the provinicial border into all-beef-Alberta to get some coconut bacon (though that is always a good excuse for a road trip).  I did it so I could find  the specific places where my practice needs some serious tweaking (oh, and spend some time with the fam)  I remember being at a retreat where a mother of 2 small children said something like, "I get up every morning with the best of intentions, but in a few minutes I hear myself saying things I feel bad about." Her comment came to mind this week,  because I arrived for a family visit all starry eyed with good intentions to take on the family pain and mishigas (which means craziness in Yiddish) with skill and compassion. It didn't take long to find myself wondering why I agreed to this trip and when can I leave.  I learned how quickly  good intentions can turn to ethereal puffs of dust and how short the lit fuse of patience can be.

12"x24" mixed media with cold wax

When I had a peek into the internal combustion engine of emotion I could see that my annoyance was really "wishing things were other than they were" It was me saying to myself, "I don't like this, it should stop." Apparently the perpetrators of sudoku and other petty crimes didn't see it quite that way.  They carried on without notice while I wondered, "do I have to listen to this story again?  How do I escape this relative's angry rant?  Why do I feel like an inconvenience because I prefer lunch that has never had a face?

I could see the urge to take things personally, rather than accept them at face value. "Are you insinuating I'm weird when you ask about my chia seed and hemp milk breakfast?" You might be, but I don't know that for sure and I only aggravate myself with this assumption.  It's a story of my own making, based on what I think you think, based on your tone of voice, the look on your face and our past history.  The petri dish of misunderstandings.  Everything in this pot is simmering below the surface. Why can't I simply process the question without an emotional charge?  Truth is, sometimes a question feels like just a question and sometimes it feels like an innuendo.  To see that was helpful.  To see that my irritation was based in my thoughts often formed at lightning speed, concocted out of my own defensiveness and self protection was humbling.

And so I learned that I needed breaks and walks to renew my intentions to be kind, compassionate and open hearted. I needed to toss some of that compassion  in my own general direction.  The stuff that felt annoying was simply a collision of their pain and my pain, of their habits and my differing ones. When our habits coincided we were all fine. What irritates me might not irritate you.  Sometimes I could quickly catch myself and reorient and renew my intention to be kind, maybe even curious. "What is that person really saying, what is that all about?  Why are they only interested in the past?  Why do strangers frighten them?  Why does my strange food bother them?  Can I just listen with an open heart without needing to respond?  Can I simply enjoy this person's company? Can I simply enjoy this moment?  Can I simply be with what is?

And so the teaching and the practice continued; in fits and starts, me rushing into the jousting ring in full armour or completely naked, getting poked and running for cover, sometimes laughing at the absurdity of the whole thing, sometimes grumbling to myself like a disgruntled 5 year old.  In the end I can say I learned that it's about renewing my intention each time I get pushed off course, of cutting myself some slack, of cutting others some slack and sometimes having a good laugh about the absurdity of the whole human predicament.  It is about remembering to look at the sky or listen to the raucous call of a magpie or simply appreciate the dharma practice of being in a family.

PS, I bought 2 sudoku books, and one of them is for me which is solid proof that if you are open, you never know what will happen.

The 84th Problem

Buddha House 16" 20" on display at The Naam

How many problems do you have? Do you have 83 or 84? Or perhaps you have more? No matter how many problems you have, the Buddha thinks that your real problem is the 84th problem?

Do you know the story of the 84th problem? I know you do, I mean in your everyday life. I'm guessing that if I know it well, you probably have had a little dust up with it yourself. In fact I spend a lot of time wrestling with the 84th problem and I never manage to get it into a figure 4 leg lock, or is that a head lock?  So much for my wrestling skills. Whenever things go "wrong" according to how I think they should be the 84th problem has got me down for the count.

Here's a short version of the 84th problem. A farmer goes to see the Buddha because his crops have failed. He's heard that the Buddha is very wise and the farmer is hoping for some help. He tells the Buddha his story and the Buddha tells him he can't help him with that problem. The farmer then complains a little about his wife. "Sorry," the Buddha says, "can't help you with that."  

My kids, they don't listen to me or respect me enough."

"Sorry, can't do anything about that."

 The farmer offers a few more problems and then laments about the Buddha being so unhelpful. Finally the Buddha offers a little help, "Everyone always has 83 problems, one goes away, another one appears. What I can help you with is your 84th problem."

"What's that?" asks the farmer.

 "That you don't want to have any problems."

Now if we could just get over the 84th problem, we'd be fine with things as they are, whatever that happens to be. To just give up our wrestling match with life, that's the simple task. The simple task that's so hard to remember when things don't go "our way". It doesn't mean we never take action or that  we don't work for change. It just means we don't argue with what is. We don't need to reject this moment. And we don't even need to reject our rejection of this moment (a particular favourite of mine). We can just feel what it's like to reject, to wish for something else. "Oh, that's how it feels."

This instruction "to just feel what it feels like" was part of our work from the retreat with Howie Cohn on "calming the restless mind" and is a good antidote to the 84th problem. And I had opportunity to to do a little of this work yesterday. 

We're building a gate like structure to cover the entry to our open carport. The gate will hide our winter fire wood and other messy bits. I started the morning innocently enough, drinking my coffee and browsing through a design book for ideas. Before I knew it I was admiring all the beautiful homes and wishing mine looked like that, or that I lived in this one, and so on and so on. (I am a recovering design junkie).

This simple pleasant task of sitting in the sun looking at a book morphed into "wanting" and spilled over into an agitation, leaving a subtle unrest and dissatisfaction as I went about my day. In the past I might not even have noticed this domino effect but just felt vaguely unhappy. But now I could clearly see it's origins in the craving for a magazine house, one staged and crafted for a picture in a book. And yet the hangover of craving lingered. And I got to notice, "this is what craving and unrest feels like". I followed it's trail, as it had me looking for a snack, long before I was hungry, had me looking through a slightly darkened lense as I headed to my studio. But I digress from the 84th problem.  Or do I?

A Malpractice Suit

Here's the beginning of my Japanese style garden

"We can make the light of mindfulness a searchlight for encroaching evil that we imagine dwells within us; this is what the habit-mind often does.  Or we can make this mindfulness the light of lovingkindness, gentle and hospitable.  Experience can be known and met warmly.  Dwelling in the glow of relaxed, loving acceptance, the chill is warmed, the strain unwrenched, the grasping released." -  from Insight Dialogue by Gregory Kramer

When I read this the other night it reminded me of something I've been doing a lot of lately.  "Mindfulness", just being aware of what is, has been getting tangled up with judgment.  Now judgment being a strong contender in the ring, it tends to go quite a few rounds and bashes me upside the head good many times before I stop wobbling around. So instead of dispassionately seeing what my mind habitually gets up to, I have been holding what I observe, against myself.  "Oh, there's fear, (not again, I'm so tired of this) and there's timidity (I need to stop being like that.) and the commentary continues.  Instead of using practice to grow wisdom, my practice can easily become just another measuring stick that I hold up for myself.  "Officer, arrest that woman for malpractice."

A little close up ( you need a break from all that reading)

The mind is a crafty conniver.  It can rework anything into it's favourite flavour, even if the flavour is nasty, and chewy and bitter.  The Dalai Lama was surprised to hear that Westerners often feel "not good enough".  And apparently we will use just about anything, including our Dharma practice, to fulfill this prophecy.  But noticing what we're up to is the point at which we kick judgment out of the ring on a technicality.  He was never invited to this event in the first place.  Maybe we don't actually kick him out, he just slinks away like a monster in a nightmare, when we turn to look at him.

And so this is  where my practice has been lately.  It's a strange little macrame hanger that I've been using to tighten the noose.

Here's me wondering if I should have bought a houseboat instead

And the antidote is to lighten up a little, to back off on the intensity, to relax the body and remember that the point of practice is not to "fix" anything.  The point of practice is to learn how to just be, to grow in wisdom and compassion and kindness and that starts with our inner life.  Maybe we need to ask ourselves first, "am I kinder to myself than I was 5 years ago, more compassionate, less angry?  Because if we can't offer that to ourselves, chances are we can't offer it to anyone else.  "Self, are you listening?"  "I knew you were."

Working With Body Tension & Karmic Stuff

This is a close up shot of a piece I am slowly working on (perhaps I am inspired to slowness by the slugs that have all but decimated our garden).  It seems there are never enough hours in the day for both gardening and artwork, but I've said that before, haven't I?  I am not whining, really.  I promise.  Although occasionally I do have a little wine.

But I must confess I always turn a little green when I see the concerted efforts of those working away in their studios everyday.  Ah... (she gives a wistful sigh which goes well with her green complexion). An osteopath told me sighing is good for releasing tension.  Try it.

But I have made my choices about how to spend my time.  I was talking about "choices" in terms of money with a friend the other day, but it is the same for time.  If we attempt to live with awareness we choose where we spend our time and our $$.  There is only so much of both to go around.  I keep telling myself this is the year of the house and next year I will have more art time.  I may be deluded, time will confirm or make a fool of me.  How do you deal with this?

But there is always lots of Dharma up on the radar, no matter what I do, even if I'm not here writing about it.  I have been sitting twice a day in preparation for a week long retreat in August.  I'm in training, like a marathon runner (well maybe a slightly slacker marathon runner, the bald guy at the back of the pack).  My body needs this extra sitting, my mind needs this.

As I sit a little longer and more often I have been noticing all the subtle ways and places I hold tension and how good it feels to find those spots and let them go.  I am seeing strongly, how the mind doesn't settle with ease if there is no ease in the body, how the body tenses when the mind starts reciting the list of things to do.  I think this can't be repeated too often. The mind/ body, which practice shows us, are really a single unit, has somehow in our modern world been divided  into two separate things (did I miss a divorce in People magazine?). Where did this separation come from?  "I think therefore I am?"  Did this leave the body out of the equation of being?

This relaxing of the body has become a big part of my sitting.  I have been doing a form of qi gong meditation for part of the time when I sit, which is really just concentrating or focusing on the hara (the area just below the navel).  In doing this I am reminded so much of how we don't make anything happen.  We focus and then when the qi or energy becomes strong enough it moves.  WE are not doing.  We are simply being.

Another part of my practice, as always, involves chipping away at my "karmic" or habitual stuff, the stuff we come here with, the personal stuff that we each have.  This is such an important part of practice for me, to work with your personal stuff in a way that helps loosen it and if we're lucky release.  Sometimes we have to go about this in different ways.  And mostly it is hard even to see our own patterns and foibles; easy to see that of others. And the karmic stuff of others is their business, not ours.  But that's another topic entirely.

I have been chipping away at  my mountain of stuff (can I sell this stuff anywhere, maybe on ebay?)  I have got the loader and the backhoe out and I am surveying "my stuff" from a totally different angle, using some Shamanic journeying, (okay so no bulldozers were involved).  It's the same stuff (sigh), just seeing it from a different angle.  It lends new perspectives and new tools for the chipping away process.  It is this chipping away and releasing of our karmic patterns that will ultimately help us to see more clearly and release us from suffering.

Many monks when they have their "kenshos" or awakening experiences have past life rememberings.  Shamanic journeying can help us relate to some of what is unseen in a similar way.  Although again we must be careful not to "want" too much, or delude ourselves.  As always on the path, we must proceed with caution and attend to what niggles.

And so I have been working away at those inclinations to retreat, working with fear, approaching it in different ways (like training a wild animal?), by doing some body work, by being willing to see what catches me, in a non judgmental way.  I am learning to be comfortable in my own skin.  In my Shamanic work it has been expressed as "hiding" which is just another way to say we feel uncomfortable exposing and being who we are.  While some might see this as navel gazing, I believe it is an essential part of the inner journey.  I don't think we can blast through it all by our will and simply extended sitting.  What are your practices for working with your "personal" stuff?  And have you had any success selling it on ebay?

The Samsara Of Home Renovations

Where do you find the Dharma when you discover hidden mold on the wall during your kitchen reno and you don't know what to do? How does the Dharma fit into a house bustling with 2 plumbers, 2 tilers, a carpenter and fallers arriving to remove some trees? Well for starters, you do the best you can. You get to see your habitual tendencies in full bloom and then you dance with them as you negotiate the chaos. You feel your way along like a blind person, carefully. You look for openings and light shining through from some other place. You try to find the opportunity in the problem. And as much as you can, you let go of what you "want". And occasionally you remember to breathe. Never helpful to pass out from lack of oxygen.

So that has been the work of the last week. Phone calls and following the thread to make sure that what we were dealing with was not toxic mold and a health hazard. And I got to see a strong panic reaction in myself that relates to anything that feels like a threat to my health. I was learning to be prudent but not alarmist, to weigh and measure the information I collected. I could see the inclination to feed off the panic of someone else who was present. And of course all the time the new kitchen I wanted was barking at my heels. And so by the third day we had figured out what to do, found someone to test the mold, found it wasn't any of the seriously dangerous types and then proceeded to remove it safely. It was an exhausting experience and everyone had several opinions on it. The trick was to weigh it all in a balanced manner, to put strong emotions out of the decision making loop.

I was stressed but with awareness! I did the best I could to work with it. I remembered to practice kindness to those that were part of the process and be thankful that I was in the position to be doing all of this. There was a serious samsaric quality to the whole experience. Life is like that sometimes! And so the house is deliciously quiet tonight as I nurse a sore throat. In the thick of it all lies opportunity, opportunity to get to know ourselves (and thus others) opportunity to take a stab at right speech and right action. Opportunity to not succumb to despair and doubt and panic. Opportunity to dig deep inside and find what Jiyu Kennett called "our iron being". Add a little faith and stir vigorously.

And did I mention that the sweetest 2 tilers broke the washing machine moving it back into place? The tests continue!

Groundlessness Hog Day

You've heard of ground hog's day? Well it's ground lessness hog day out here on the prairie. That's me out there in the wide expanses of dry brown grass, quivering nervously. Today I awoke to a deep sense of discomfort. Eek I am burrowless. No where to pop my head back into when I do or don't see my shadow.

My first inclination was to look for a cause. Sort of like looking for the shadow? How much longer is wintery discomfort going to last? And then instead of going shadow hunting I decided I would just be the furry little creature without the burrow. I stood up on my hind legs and sniffed the air, in a prairie dog sort of way. What's up out here?

And what was on the wind was a sense of vulnerability, of openness to the energy of anything that might come my way. No burrow to dive into for respite, no home to retreat to, no living room, no bedroom of safety and sanctuary. Terror, fear struck my quivering little nose.

I remembered my homeless friend and sniffed the sense of what it must be like to always be available to others in this way. I could see that we weren't that different, me hugging the walls of my home, her clinging to her camper van.

And so that was the experience of the day, of wanting to hide and not being able to, of simply staying with the discomfort and not trying to rationalize, explain it, or make it better. Today is groundlessness hog day for me I will just burrow a little deeper into my practice. And there is always tomorrow.

String For Your Finger & Gold Mining in Tibet

I am just unravelling a little metaphorical string for your finger, if you live in the Victoria area. Zendotstudio is warming the apple cider and setting out the treats for Sunday's Open House & Art Sale. Hope to see you there!

Some new work is on display, and some great studio clear-out treats, as are some custom Buddha Boxes for a happy customer that bought 4 last year and wanted some more for this Christmas. It was her great idea last year to use 4 similar 6x6 paintings and give one to each friend. This year she has requested 6 for her sisters and friends.

It's an interesting way of joining and connecting people together with small hand made treasures. I thought it was a brilliant idea. Two good friends and myself have bought the same scarves (different colours) when shopping together but I haven't done it as an intentional way of joining friends together through gift giving. Kind of like each person has a piece of the puzzle. I love it because it expresses the sentiments of generosity, kindness and acknowledges the connection that we have to each other.

On that note we went to hear the second talk by a young Buddhist teacher last night. He spoke about loosening the grip of self centredness that we have and practicing generosity and loving kindness. He also talked about working with our habit of choosing comfort. His talks are based on a text by Dodrupchen Jikme Tenpe Nyima. The written handout exhibits the depth and breadth of the teaching. We get to experience first hand the courage and equanimity of this young man who has only been speaking English for 5 years and often consults us listeners for help with words.

We have heard some interesting and heart tugging stories of his life in Tibet and his ongoing commitment in working for the Tibetan cause. We have learned a little about the history and geography of Tibet: all the stories you might expect to learn from the news outlets but don't. Last night he spoke briefly about how several Canadian companies are working with the Chinese to extract gold from Tibet. He talked about how the villagers have been displaced and now have no place to grow food and means to look after themselves. We never hear these stories on the evening news. He used the story as an example of how when business and self centred interests are used as the bottom line, we can cause harm to others, either wittingly or unwittingly.

And even though you could feel the deep sadness that he felt for Tibet's plight, you never once sensed animosity. He said he approaches protests not in the spirit of hating the Chinese but in the spirit of wanting the Chinese Government to recognized the Tibetan's as human beings. It was interesting to see how he balanced his political activism with the Dharma.

We will hear his last talk next Thursday before he heads off to Nepal to visit his teacher who is 90 and unwell.

Something To Sink My Teeth Into

Here's the latest addition to my sporadic painting efforts. Done in watery blues. I can never resist adding in a little green and then blue goes so well with yellow, why not a little "Indian yellow" which I love. And of course drips. It's hard to know if I love drips (the watery, runny painty kind) or the addition of some form or text more. Things seem so naked without one or the other. I had even been thinking of adding in a little bit of Buddhist scripture somewhere and maybe I still will but for now the painting is at rest.

I noticed, as I read one of my favourite blogs (Marcus' Journal), that where my name appeared in the blogroll it showed I hadn't posted for 5 days. Has it been that long, I thought? Doesn't seem like it. I do notice in myself, less of a draw to post. In a way it seems like right speech. If I don't have anything to say it's good to not say anything at all. (I believe it was Thumper in Bambi, who used a version of this, as in "if you don't have anything nice to say....) Marcus was also commenting on finding the balance in our lives between writing and reading about the Dharma and actually sitting. It was a good reminder that we can mistake "talking" about something for actually "doing" it, whatever that "it" may be. The words occupy us, fills some hole in us, use up our energy and then we forget we haven't actually done "it".

Another blog I love is Meg Hitchcock's and she's been doing some serious ego wrestling lately, down in the ego wrestling pit. I love her art and identify deeply with her darkly humourous relationship to life. Hey, it's all grist for the humour mill in my book (as long as it's not at anyone else's expense.) And her ego wrestling reminded me of my last couple of days. I've been having a serious non transcendant dental experience (there's a joke about that somewhere isn't there?). A tooth has been brewing up a little storm which produced a lot of pain and subsequently an abscess. Where does my mind want to go? It wants to crawl all over, "what's it all about? In the middle of some house sale happenings. Why now? What does this mean? What should I do with it?" Oh and I forgot to mention the "I don't want this, why me, why now" part of the muddy stream of consciousness (looks alot like Rudyard Kiplings "great, grey, green, greasy Limpopo River").

What I learned was, that all I could do was carry on as best I could amid the pain. The ego got a rest. That ego is an energy sucker, man. Yes, go see the monks, yes go to tai chi, yes go home and lie down. And the rest just falls away. And I could see how the rejecting of the whole experience just intensified the suffering; the asking of the questions that can't be answered. Things just are. "The universe is not answerable to our wishes," my Zen teacher used to say. I could see how much of what I've been labouring over lately doesn't really matter, doesn't really require the energy and attention of that busy, yappy, little self. It's just that I am used to "stewing" over the juicy or tough little bits of life and wondering how things will turn out and trying to anticipate what will happen and what to do.

And so here is my message wrapped up in abscessed little package. Things happen, you're not in charge and oh yeah, don't forget your practice. If you're old like me you will remember all those old British "Carry On" movies. Tons of different topics (Carry on Doctor, Carry on Spying) but they all started with "Carry On". What else is there to do really?

Fire Puja & The Afflictive Emotions

Yesterday the art gallery monks did a fire puja. A monk from a local temple explained that it was a ceremony to purify our afflictive emotions such as greed, hate and delusion. In the ceremony we burn up these difficult emotions and they are carried away on the smoke. We each got a pinch of barley flour to throw into the air and imagine the release of these troubling emotions.

It was a beautiful warm day with no wind and no rain, amazing in that the previous day saw 50 ish mm of rain fall here. A small fire was built and while the monks chanted, a helper added juniper branches and incense and barley flour to create a thick opaque smoke that wafted politely upward without smothering onlookers.

Our weekend was mostly filled with peaceful, mindful activities with kindred spirits. Qi gong, a potluck with some Buddhist friends where we watched a documentary on Bhutan made by a woman from Quebec. The film was about Bhutan's (GNH) Gross National Happiness Project, a purposeful program where the government takes happiness in to account when making decisions as opposed to using the GNP that fuels the Western world. Inspiring little film about a mostly inspiring little country. And on Sunday we wrapped up the weekend with a little tai chi and the fire puja, washed down with a little latte at the Mocha House and a stroll through the "Dick & Jane" like streets of Fairfield.

Now goodness knows we needed that fire puja because this morning our real estate deal began it's unravelling and the afflictive emotions made a debut appearance. I got to watch a little brush fire of anger explode in the outback, or is that out in the inback? One minute you're walking along in the sunshine, then someone does something that seems "unethical" and you've got your own little fire ceremony going on. And there's nothing purifying about it. It has to do with pushing the boundaries of contracts, wanting more, not being available and twists and turns that make you wonder if the person you're dancing with isn't trying to break your foot.

And there you are left with it sitting in your lap. So where is the Dharma in it all, you ask after you've had a little rant, vented a little spleen. You listen to your own righteous indignation. And if I know anything, I know not to make any decision when I'm mad. So we give it a few hours and cool, to get some perspective, some distance, some sanity from the crazy making. It never ceases to amaze how quickly the story starts to spin, how quick a neutral face can become a demon. And so much mind chatter. But between my partner and I we manage to talk each other off the ledge a few times.

The truth is someone is behaving badly. We could let the contract expire, we could walk away. We have to choose a response. I see the inclination for payback and decide that Payback is not a destination we care to buy a ticket to. But in truth a large seed of doubt has been planted that this person will complete the transaction in good faith. I can ask myself "what do I know for sure?" And it's not that much. Lot's of assumptions, some uncomfortable signs in hindsight and our inclination to accommodate rather than take a hard line.

So we've had an opportunity to watch our afflictive emotions (apparently they were not completely purified at the puja!). We've hung out with doubt; doubt about the deal, about our actions. And I wished I had more equanimity to just ride it through, to shrug and not care. But there it is. Life with all it's warts. It's not a big deal really. No one will die or get injured. And we got to see how easy it is to get all stirred up. We can see where our work is. We can see how difficult it is to not take offense. Can we bear insult (real or imagined) with equanimity? We can see how not being attached to the outcome of things is truly freedom. We get to see as our qi gong teacher points out, that we should sit more each day, that there is always time, no matter how busy you are. I can see how this does build equanimity, how as Pema Chodron puts it, makes you a bigger container.

And we thank the real estate demons for the teaching! with bows to the mls.

Painting Your Life

I've been promising a new painting. So finally here it is. It is new territory for me in lots of ways. Stepping out into the unknown is always a good thing in the creative process. It shakes things up. And if you're lucky you might even be pleased with the results. But as my Zen teacher has said to me about life choices, just because you don't get the results you want, doesn't mean you did the wrong thing. You decide in your heart what you want to do and are guided by those well thought out intentions. The results are simply that, results, not a measuring stick that we beat ourselves up with.

It is my experience that many of the same rules apply to life that apply to painting. Playing it safe is easy. But eventually that gets boring, the process and the end product. It's easy to end up stifled and trapped in the same old pattern, without even being aware of it. And then maybe a light goes on. Or maybe as in this case, some comments, observations and suggestions led me to a try something new. Not to say repetition is bad. As in practice you often need to repeat things to refine them. But that doesn't negate exploring new territory.

And sometimes you paint something awful. That's life. Crappy stuff happens and eek there it is on canvas! Maybe we have the luxury of tossing it before anyone sees it or painting over it. But we need to have the courage to go to the kingdom of squirm and wriggle, to keep company with our discomfort. I read somewhere recently that a real measure of our practice is can we bear insult or feeling humiliated with some measure of grace or equanimity. Maybe that is the purpose of our bad art? To help us learn how to do this?

In the same way that we need to remind ourselves that we are not our thoughts, I think we need to remind ourselves that we are not our art. It has arrived in the world through us, it is not us. If I can understand this at a deep level I am truly free to create. I don't need to judge and be self conscious and measure and weigh what I create. Will people like this? Will they think I'm a talentless lout? Will they laugh behind my back? Ah the insecurities of the little self. But if we don't identify too strongly with what we create, if we're not too attached to it, it's not a problem. We can look at our work in a more objective way. We are freer to edit, modify, and learn from what we've done. If not we simply feel defensive and protective of ourselves and our work.

So while this painting is not wildly different it is a departure. If I am honest I will admit I feel a bit naked about the primitive quality of this painting. Maybe it will evolve into a new, personal style or maybe it's a dead end? Who knows. Time will tell. Instead of painting the usual painted, hand stamped squares I have collaged the entire canvas with different papers and then added paint. Green Tara is a new subject and I have added her mantra in various places. Can you see it? It's kind of like the "Where's Waldo?" of Buddhist painting. I often go back to a painting later and modify what I initially think is finished. So who knows what it will look like the next time you see it? I find that time gives more space and distance, a better position to edit from. So these are the places where art and life and practice intersect for me. Really we are all our own works of art any way. We just tend not to see ourselves that way. Are you a painting or a song or perhaps a novel?

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.

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."

Do Relationships Make Us Happy?

The moment has arrived.  I have written 67 blog posts since I started in December and I have finally run out of words.  Can you believe it?  No, I didn't think you would.  Okay let's get out the dousing rod and search for some juicy alphabits.

It was a sunny Friday in Victoria today and I had a spicy, coconut infused lunch with a friend at a favourite Sri Lankan restaurant.  We roamed happily over many meadows of conversation until we settled on the one that interests her a lot these days, a fairly new love interest.  They are both delightful people, but very different, one an introvert and Dharma practitioner, the other an outgoing, gregarious, grab life by the tail, spend a bunch of cash, kind of extrovert.  (their identities have been disguised with moustaches and dark glasses to protect the not so innocent, namely me!)

I know that they love each other deeply but the bumpy ground that stands between each of their wants and needs, likes and dislikes is a vast rock strewn tundra.  "One of us is very stubborn ," she says.  "Only one of you?" I ask teasingly.  She has a good sense of humour.  I can say this to her.  But I hear in her voice that she wants him to change, to do things differently.  Her requests seem reasonable to me.  She wants him to spend less cash, go out for dinner less.  She doesn't want to watch a couple of hours of TV in the evenings when he's at her place, she would rather go off with a book.  These are a few of their points of contention.  I remind her that in Buddhist practice the only one we get to change is ourself. She doesn't bite on that one but goes on to talk about the possibility of "seeing someone" to help them with their differences. 

I tell her about a great piece I read by Norman Fischer in the March issue 0f Shambhala Sun called "Applied Dharma".  In the piece Fischer talks about mediation and says the problem is never about what it appears to be, like the toothpaste lid, or the toilet seat or the TV watching.  (I wrote about this in a previous blog post)  but it seemed so relevant to what my friend was talking about.  I don't know what their real issues are, but undoubtedly they are deeper.  Are they about," you always insist on having your own way, I feel unconsidered?"  Are they about,"you're not listening to me, you don't even know what's important to me?"   And as Fischer points out, until we deal with the deeper issues, the problem will continue to exist.  I have found in my own life, if I don't deal with a problem in one form, it just pops up somewhere else, maybe in a bigger uglier form.  It's kind of like that old carney game of "wack a mole", it's just keeps jumping up all over the place until you put it to rest or your quarter runs out.

Relationships are our biggest opportunity and often the most difficult place to practice.  Many people find this intense point of practice with a partner, some with parents or children.  My mother is my great teacher.  And if we are honest with ourselves there is always work with partners and children.  I remember reading about a man who was trying to decide whether to take on a new love relationship and the wise Dharma counsel to him was, "yes go ahead, as long as you don't expect the relationship to make you happy."   So there it is, loving someone is not about having them make you happy.  This expectation is what creates some of the biggest disappointments and dissatisfaction in relationships. It is not why you love someone and not what the relationship is about.  It's the same as looking for gratification in a piece of cheesecake (but perhaps a little more complicated)  "Dear, could I trade you for that mango and kiwi cheesecake over there?"   Satisfaction, happiness, joy, is never out there.  It always comes from deep inside.  And a relationship is a complicated thing that sometimes makes you coo with joy and sometimes makes you want to relocate to a far away country.  In our beloved we are sensing the divine, the eternal in our human of choice.  We are often drawn in ways that are beyond our rational understanding.  Love is a strange cocktail in a tall glass of magic and mystery, stirred (not shaken) with a swirl of the pragmatic.

I could hear  in my friend's voice, how she wanted her man to change to suit her imagined desires, how it would all be perfect then.  They could live happily ever after.  We left the restaurant filled with spicy treats and delicious conversation.  We wandered down the sunny shopping street, me stopping to buy 4 stalks of pussy willows, us browsing in a gourmet food shop and the used bookstore.  We were having fun, recharging our solar batteries.  No moles in sight.

We Are Artists Of Our Own Lives

I woke up this morning with a line in my head that goes, "Sometimes I have breakfast with Mara and I use a long spoon."  I love this line.  It conjures this fabulous picture in my mind of a large bowl and the diner with an extremely long handled spoon gingerly dipping it, while suspiciously eyeing  Mara (the emanation of darkness and temptress of the passions who tested Buddha on the night of his enlightenment) from across the bowl.  The quote belongs to RM Jiyu Kennett, founder of the Soto Zen Order of Buddhist Contemplatives.

What I understand of this quote is that sometimes old karma arises and we have senses or feelings that come to us that leave us scratching our head.  What's that all about, where did that come from. .... especially  if you wake up with some unexplainable feelings that linger, as in the breakfast with Mara scenario.  The practice is of course not to indulge these feelings, nor suppress them. ... easier said than done, but that is the razor's edge we aim for.

One of the interesting things I have heard about karma is that once you stop creating new karma, (by our unskillful actions) old karma can then come up to be cleansed.  As The Humble Yogini mentioned yesterday in a comment on my post,  "Cracked Pots, Mustard Seeds And Suffering", that is one of our functions here on this earthly realm, to cleanse karma.  If you find that a bit far fetched you can always do what my teacher suggests, and put it on the back burner for now.

This morning Mara visited me more as a physical sensation, a slightly churning stomach.  And as I resisted the urge to go with the old "I'm sick" story I could feel the turning.  I could feel strangely cheerful and yet not completely physically well.  I could see the fruits of my training, as it is sometimes called.  I have been a glass half empty kinda gal for most of my life.  My understanding is that's partly karmic package and partly the inclination for all human beings according to brain researcher, Rick Hanson of Wisebrain.org.  But this morning I could see the turning, a feeling that I don't have to do things this way any more.  I can choose to look up instead of down.  It was a blood and bones sensing, not just an understanding it in my head kind of thing.  

And then in this optimistic (egads, Batman!) kind of way I could see some of the other fruits of my training laid out before me like a little tropical feast: my improved relationship with my mother, my partner and daughter, from a willingness to do the necessary work.  A lot of contemplation and courage to say the hard thing  (always in the most helpful way possible and not coming from anger) went into this.  I could see how working with anger (I talk about this in my post "the doorway in") has changed how I relate to the world in general.  And the practice of letting go has helped me see how much of what we cling to is, in the grand scheme, not particularly important.  And the work is on going; as someone once pointed out that's why they call it practice.  We are continually working away on it, refining our lives, like cooks, like alchemists, like artists of our own lives.

Instant Mashed Wisdom, Add Water and Stir

What is the point of having a Zen (or any spiritual) practice?  Why do we devote hours of our life to sitting on a cushion?  It isn't about blissing out as a neighbour once suggested to me.  In my mind the whole point of practice is to live in a way that creates less suffering for myself and others.  My aim is to loosen the grips of greed, hate and delusion in a very real way, a way that makes a difference in my life and the lives of those I touch. ....In short I want to learn to be in the world in a different way, a way that leans in the direction of wisdom, love and compassion.  As my daughter would say I want to be part of the solution, not part of the problem.  In a blood and bones, right here on the spot, kind of way, I want to alter some of my less enlightened behaviour and make more wholesome choices.  I want to be able to live with what is, not how I want things to be.

Sound pretty fancy schmancy, airy fairy?  For me it's not.  I live right down here in the mud where the beautiful lotus flower starts and it's good nourishing mud!  But how do I make those changes to my live?  One of the practices I learned when I started studying with my Zen teacher was a process she calls "daily investigation".  At the end of the day, you spend some time (maybe as little as 10-15 minutes, maybe more) looking back at your day.  Were there things that "niggled", things that were troubling or leave a slightly bad taste in your mouth?   As you sit with them, you turn the investigative light on those incidents.  My teacher would say "be like Sherlock Holmes".  You look in detail at an event.  What happened?  How were you feeling before hand?  Were you tired, rushed, had a headache?  And as you examine instances you can find your own trigger points.  When someone looks a certain way, I loose it, when I'm tired it's not a good time to talk about a problem.  In short we get to know ourselves.  We can find, sometimes to our surprise, where a problem really started and it informs our behaviour next time.  How can we ever make a change if we don't know where the suffering begins?

I can remember a specific instance where a friend came to stay with her teenage daughter.  The whole visit went a bit sideways.  They were unhappy, my family was unhappy, people acted kind of grumpy and in the end no one had a good time.  It was a little banquet of suffering for us all.  And when  I looked back it turned out I had a "niggle" about the visit but felt I couldn't possibly say no.  I had a feeling that we couldn't quite handle the company of this troubled teen, but still I felt I "should" say yes to the visit.  Mom was a good friend.  We would try and accommodate. And the domino effect that ensued was not pleasant but a wonderful teaching.  I learned as I said in an earlier writing that "I am not the Buddha" and it doesn't do any good to pretend that I am more compassionate and understanding than I really am.  Big lesson.  Guided a lot of future behaviour.  Sometimes we have to look far back in the chain of events to find the origin of the suffering.  Sometime it takes a little help from someone wiser than ourselves (my teacher helped me trace this one to it's little source in the river of suffering).

Another time in looking at the little misery tango that my mother and I were locked into I found (again through the help of my teacher) that I couldn't find the source because I wasn't paying enough attention.  She'd ask me, what did your mother say, what was she doing, how did she look?  And at that point I realized I was so entrenched in my position of "oh she's just always complaining", that the details did not even register.  She might even say something nice or say thank-you and I hardly noticed!  I was fixated on my "point of view".  It turned out when I really looked, I felt guilty, responsible in some way, when my mother got out of my car looking all bent over and sad and walking very slowly.  I felt she wanted me to fix her, make her life better and happier and that made me angry.   It was based on some assumptions of my own, a lack of communication and a certain body language of my mother.  Only when I was aware of what pushed my proverbial button could I breathe and just be, instead of getting so caught up.

And unlike Alice who can take a pill that instantly makes herself small, there are no pills that instantly make us wise, compassionate and loving.  There is no instant mashed wisdom, add hot water and stir.  It is a process, one that takes time and effort.  It adds depth and richness to life, to look at it deeply and work with all its messy ingredients.  But in the end we are like  great chefs, always tasting the dish and adjusting the recipe.  Perhaps a pinch more generosity here, a little more sweetness there, and that bitter stuff, maybe I could leave it out next time.  So I encourage you to join this little cooking club, tasting and adjusting what you serve to your esteemed guests (that includes you!)  And one day down the road you may look out at the table and be amazed at the wholesome feast you have created   Or perhaps it will simply feel good to know that you've just stopped burning the metaphorical toast!  

Falling In a Hole

There is a poem by Portia Nelson called "There's A Hole In My Sidewalk".  I bet you've heard it.  It's been around for a while.  It could well be the description of Zen training or any  other spiritual or humanistic practice that causes us to look at what we do with honesty, and adjust our behaviour accordingly.  It is such a succinct picture of how we move from blame and unconsciousness to awareness and then to making conscious choices about what we do.  And it's funny too!

 

Here it is:

"I walk down the street.  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.  I fall in.  I am helpless.  It isn't my fault.  It takes forever to find a way out.

I walk down the street.  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.  I pretend that I don't see it.  I fall in again.  I can't believe I am in this same place.   It still takes a long time to get out.

I walk down the same street.  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.  I see it is there.  I still fall in... it's a habit... It is my fault.  I get out immediately.

I walk down the same street.  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.  I walk around it.

I walk down another street."

Ah ... the path of training ....  We start from the place of blame and defensiveness to deal with our difficulties.  That's just how it is before we start to look deeply at what we do.  We use this position to protect our poor, little vulnerable selves. Mostly we look outward into the environment (for our satisfaction or the source of our woes).   It took me a long time to be honest enough to see my part in painful situations so there I was falling into holes.  Finally the light went on and I  learned that the only person I get to change is me.  The only stuff I get to work with is mine!   That's when the real work started!  I have found that I excel at multiple hole tumbles.  And finally the dim little light reluctantly flickers on. 

 I can remember watching the process.   First I'd see (whatever it was I'd done, perhaps an angry response)  after I'd done it  and then maybe I'd catch myself in the middle and then finally I'd catch myself before I got started.  Even then I might still be drawn to do it.  And finally I would catch myself before hand and make the choice to do it differently.  There I was on a different street and feeling pretty good about it.    Man the view was nicer, the air was better and when  turned the corner there was no dust and scrapes on my behind.  

And always there is something to train with.  Some days the holes in the sidewalk are big and treacherous and you really have to pay attention and grasp your will and sometimes they are just a little nicks in the pavement.  But as we travel along the path of practice I think we get better at spotting the holes and perhaps quicker to choose an alternate route.  But hey, if you see me in a hole and I am hollering, maybe you could lend me a hand out?

I chose this little black Buddha  (dark like the hole!)  for this piece because it took a lot of time and effort.  I kept working and reworking it, looking at it and feeling frustrated with it, taking sand paper to it and in a final act of frustration painting it black.  But for some reason I refused to give up on it (I think I 'm too cheap to throw a canvas out!) and finally it was transformed into something I liked.  Maybe it's that process of transformation that it speaks to that is really the essence of this little poem.