Embers and Ash

Nature of Mind 24"x24"

As I write this I am sitting in front of a brilliant fire.  A garland of lights and pine branches still add sparkle to the hearth. It seems the perfect place on a dark night and it reminds me of the words "embers and ash" that crossed my path last week in two different places. That always makes me sit up and pay attention. This evening embers and ash whisper to me about the old year that has burned away as the new one catches fire?

Usually I am anxious to stow the festive bits away by now but for some reason this year I am savouring their brightness a little longer. Perhaps it is the unusual crispness of the outdoor air, with a promise of snow later this week that makes them seem seasonally appropriate or maybe the lovely newsletter from my homeopath, Seraphina Capranos where she describes her process of stretching the winter solstice period to envelop Dec 21- Jan 6th.  After a few weeks of mixing quiet reflection with visits and activities it feels restorative to retreat just a little longer to let the stillness of the season really sink in.

Field Work 12"x 9"

These dark days of winter feel like a time to turn inward and deeply nourish the inner self, to sit by the fire, to contemplate and write. Seraphina talks about dreaming ourselves into being. I like that. I think we are more ethereal than we take ourselves to be in this modern world, as much stardust as bone.

One of my favourite activities at the turning of the year is to gather up my journal and ponder the old year's path and the new one stretched out in front of me. The year that lies behind me was a fairly ordinary year in many ways. I didn't fall in any big holes or attach myself to any bright stars. It was a year of garden and paint and minor this and that's. One of the highlights was taking refuge with Geshe YongDong in the Tibetan Bon tradition. That simple act has had more power than I might have imagined. In 2016 I resolved to just let my art be, to paint, to let the work evolve without expectation, without looking to make the work support itself. There's a whole bunch of dharma in there!! There was evolution but of course not as much as the wanting mind would like. You can never please the ego.  And of course the inevitable comparisons and pangs of envy engendered by places like Instagram. Always ever more grist for the dharma mill :)

Tree's Innermost Thoughts 16"x 20"

I am much more of a look forward-er than a look back-er so that tends to be my focus as I contemplate. This year I found a curious theme emerge. As I wrote I found it was all about qualities of "BEING" rather than about intentions, aspirations or goals. I didn't want to "do" so much as "be". It's surprising what you find when you sit down to write. :)

 I found words emerge that would clearly lead the way. I woke up in the middle of the night and in response to a problem I'd been grappling with, the words "just SURRENDER" were waiting for me. And I mean surrender in the best sense of the word :). So that has clearly become a 2017 state of being I want to embrace.  I have been working a lot with "TRUST" in a number of circumstances: trusting what is, trusting what comes to me, trusting me, so trust is another key word for me in the year ahead. And I think it goes well with surrender. Another word that came to me via my Pilgrim Cards and seemed to resonate is "COURAGE".  Curiously each word arrived at a separate moment but they feel like they fit together perfectly. I mean you need courage and trust to surrender, otherwise you just give up instead :)

Storm Watch 10"x 10"

And what little seasonal tidbits do I have to offer as tiny treats? As a gift to our meditation practice we bought a fun little biofeedback gizmo called Muse that snoops on your brain to see if you are meditating or making your grocery list when you sit your cushion :) Muse tells all :)  This last week I have been enjoying Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche's short Facebook teachings. And a quote.  I can't exist long without something short and sweet to nourish me. Here's my most recent favourite: "You will see in the world, what you carry in your heart." Creig Crippen

And here's to your hearts dear friends, may they be filled with a passion and aliveness for this new year. May they awaken to the amazing, hidden potential inside you. May your creative spirit be nourished in surprising ways. May this year ahead bring you everything you need to make your heart sing.

Trust & Asking

If you haven't seen this TED talk by Amanda Palmer, you absolutely must. Okay, you don't have to but I swear, your missing something if you don't.  Especially if you're an artist because she plays with the concept of how an artist makes a living. By happenstance and personal awareness Amanda fell into a relationship of "trust" and "asking" with her audience.  She found that the people who loved her music were willing to support her in a monetary way, especially when her record label cut her for selling the small sum of 25,000 records.  So now she gives away her music and asks people to support her, 2 separate acts, instead of the one that we usually associate with making a living in the arts: you buy something and pay for it.  She's raised a million bucks this way!  Awesome, yes?

But that got me thinking about visual art and if somehow her brilliant paradigm could translate into offering visual art to audiences in the same way?  So I'm tossing this question out into the stratosphere.  Is there a way this might work for visual art?  What are your thoughts on the subject?  Really, I want to know.  Because I love this idea.

First my little mind goes, well there's the material and the shipping.  But you know Amanda Palmer had to invest a huge wack of money to record her music, and then there's the hours of creation that went into it. It's a big leap, believing in yourself and trusting that others will also believe in you enough that you can continue to do your creative work.

I love the idea of doing something that goes against how our consumer culture is structured.  I love the idea of trusting people.  I love the idea of connection with our audience, whatever the medium.  I love the idea of feeling that people support each other.  Is that fairy tale stuff, people?  Am I related to Peter Pan or some other ethereal character with wings?? Or perhaps that's Polyanna leaning over my left shoulder?

Journey 6"x6" on etsy

There is  a lovely young man who does some heavier work for us around our property and when we first met him we asked what do you charge.  He said, well you pay what you think it's worth.  And you know, we probably always pay more than the going hourly rate.  And we think fondly of him, we think of him as generous and trustworthy.  We know that we are supporting him and his family and it makes us feel good at the end of the day when we hand over a little pile of bills!  We never imagine that he isn't working hard enough or that he's adding in a little time here and there, or that we aren't getting our money's worth.  It's weird, but then so is the way our minds work.  There is something about this "trust" that makes us all feel good and empowered.

oil, cold wax on paper, 8"x10" on etsy

So my mind is turning these things over, sifting through the ideas, following the threads of each loosely woven thought.  There is something about these ideas that carry the scent of the new economy on the breeze. The potential for change, for growth and evolution make me feel excited and hopeful. There is a spiritual aspect to this way of exchanging creative life for monetary support; one that embodies faith, trust and connection.  Am I crazy?  Is this possible?  And if so how do we express it?  Where do we pick up the thread?

I am working on it and if I wake up with any fully hatched brilliance I will let you know.  Last night I woke up from a dream where I'd been bitten by a small copper coloured reptile.  But that's another story.  I'll save it for next time.

Where Is Your Trust?

8"x10" acrylic on canvas board

“If I was asked to get rid of the Zen aesthetic and just keep one quality necessary to create art, I would say it’s trust. When you learn to trust yourself implicitly, you no longer need to prove something through your art. You simply allow it to come out, to be as it is. This is when creating art becomes effortless. It happens just as you grow your hair. It grows.”  -John Daido Loori from "The Zen of Creativity"


I have come across two pieces of writing on "trust" this morning and I don't believe in coincidence. I need to hear this.  I think our understanding is like some moveable puzzle and we always need certain pieces at certain times, to help us with our understanding of truth, the universe and our place in it. My puzzle needed the "trust" piece right now.  Lots of lovely pieces have been moving into place but there was a gaping whole where trust should be.


I think we need trust everywhere in our lives, even Loori"s reference is specifically to art. Trust, when we wear it well, can be like a shimmering veil that, flows over everything, making  us graceful, patient and wise.

studio bits (charcoal & newsprint on card)

Marcus over at Wake Up & Laugh wrote a lovely post about "entrusting" which was the second finger pointing toward "trust". He tells a story of a family's trip to Disneyland in which the little girl becomes so excited that she runs toward something and gets lost. On finding her the father says, "if you get lost again, remain calm and wait where you are. I will find you." Later she needs to call on these wise words and the father finds her calmly sitting in one place waiting for him.  This is his example of "entrusting".  The child trusted her father to find her.


We might use this story for a metaphor for how to conduct our own lives, keep calm and if you feel lost, wait where you are until you have an experience of being found. That experience may be an event or simply some internal sense of how to proceed, an inkling, a hunch, but it won't come from your thinking mind.


But for me the story was instructive about how to use trust in our lives.  We don't throw out our thinking mind and just trust blindly or wildly, that can get us in a lot of trouble. There are situations that do not deserve our trust.  Often we have little "niggles" about who or what not to trust and sometimes we ignore them. Our desire can easily get in the way of clear seeing. Then we learn by hindsight. But as long as we learn we train ourselves in how to use trust next time.

 more studio bits (6"x6" acrylic & charcoal on canvas paper)

It comes back to the Zen idea of "we do our part."  The child used the rational part of her mind, remembering to stay where she was.  As a bonus she stayed calm!  But that wasn't hugely necessary. She just needed to stay put to be found. Weeping would have been fine, she'd still have been found.  But she did save herself a little suffering by remaining calm. Perhaps her calmness mirrored the depth of her trust?  Or perhaps pointed toward her temperament? But she knew where to use "trust".  If she hadn't believed she'd be found by staying put she might have done other things.  And so it is for us.  The hard part often comes in knowing when and what action to take and when to "trust".  I think we do the best we can and learn from that. After all what is life if not our own little experiment in living a human life?


Trust. I need to remind myself of this valuable quality over and over. How do you use trust in your life?
                                                       

Turning Our Ears Around & Getting Cling Free

I am doing two things these days. Eek it's Dharma multi tasking! To start with I have turned my ears around. I know, you'd like to see a picture but I'm afraid you're just going to have to take my word for it.

I have turned them around to facilitate listening to that sense of inner knowing. Okay, the gig's up. It's just a metaphorical turning of the ear. I am talking about listening to the body and the heart.

I am taking an energy healing course and last week saw an energy healer. Now if you think this is all crazy, new age stuff, you'd be..., well let's say that would be your belief. Let's get out the spiritual anti-static dryer sheet and all get cling free. If I were being product specific, I might say let's get some spiritual bounce going here.

As I study the energy of the body I am being reminded how much "information" and wisdom is inside of us, stored in the body in ways we don't know and don't address. The head is one way of knowing. And let me add, there is nothing wrong with what the noggin knows, it is just different from what the heart and the body know. And I am learning more about sensing this inner wisdom, about listening and trusting.

And that brings me to the second part of the equation. I am learning to trust, to trust what happens, to know that it makes sense in some larger version of the world, that it is wider than my small, personal vision. As my friend the Buddhist monk said this morning when we chatted, "something greater is at work here." This is the wonderful, sumptuous, mystery of life. Sometimes we feel exasperated by it, but if we can just appreciate the mystery, there is something quite delicious about the unseen, the unknown. It offers us surprise, amazement and gratitude as rewards. When we allow, interesting synchronistic events move into our line of vision.

So what is up on my Dharma radar is all about listening to the inner wisdom and having faith in what happens. In a way the faith is about acceptance. Byron Katie, in a book I'm reading called "A Thousand Names For Joy" talks about not arguing with what is. It doesn't mean we don't take appropriate action when necessary but we don't cling to "how we think things should be".

And of course in all this there is the good ol' Dharma practice of awareness. To listen to the body and the heart takes practice. You need to be quiet and attentive. So in the spirit of my current Dharma passion, I will be quiet now.

Painting Over Attachment: The Art of Sanity

For some time, a long time actually, I have been conscious of duking it out with some strange studio demons. It's hard to paint when you're wearing boxing gloves and this has become a serious issue for me. Perhaps roller derby collage would be a more practical option. Toss in a little Dharma, stir vigourously and presto we've got some pretty weird reality TV. But I digress in the effort to protect my dirty, little secret. Mara, that rude little apparition, has been shovelling heaps of frustration onto the canvas for months. I create, I judge, I don't like. I avoid. I don't know what to do. I add another layer of frustration. And so on and so on. Ah, a Sistine Chapel of Samsara. And yet I sense this is where I need to go, that there is something authentic and intensely me in the process. I am a slow learner. And yet there is hope. There is a special class for people like me in the basement of every spiritual high school, next to the lunchroom.

And then recently, as I prepare for another move, I unearthed an older copy (winter 2009) of Tricycle mag and what should pop off the cover but an article by Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche called "The Art of Awareness" or "art as a transformative practice". I don't know how I missed this article first time around. I must have been standing on my pointy little head in November or maybe it was all that packing and moving! Alice and I fell into a packing box and missed the tea party.

At any rate I have been reading this piece over and over and hoping it will sink into my bones, mineralize my artist's backbone. It meshes with the workshop I took with Nick Bantock who spent the weekend trying to pull us deeper into our art. I emerged frustrated and snarled in a lot of self doubt but recognizing some essential truth, treading water, coughing and sputtering. And then this morning Tricycle's Daily Dharma offered up another piece by Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche.

As I read this one I realized the deep sense of attachment I had to creating something I liked, something others would like (as imagined through my own eyes), something sellable, something that did not ruin a canvas. Attachment, attachment, attachment, the penny was dropping with a pronounced thud. Of course I have felt tied up in knots, when I spend so much time looking over my own shoulder, lurching between creator and judge in the twitch of a crossed eye. Recipe for a body and mind pretzel fest! Did I mention my sore back?

I read about DKR's fearlessness as embodied in his art teacher's (Matthieu Ricard's mother, Yahne Le Toumelin!) instruction: "She would say, “When you get attached to anything that emerges on the canvas, destroy it!” I would watch her create something beautiful and then paint over it or scrape off the paint. “Destroy, destroy, destroy.” This is not to say that beauty or attachment to beauty is a problem. Destroying them is not an aggressive act, an annihilation of self or a rejection of experience. It enhances creativity. It is a natural wearing away of attachment and becomes a part of the creative process itself—a way to engage a bigger mind. The more I do this, the greater the satisfaction. I am not fixated on creating something “good” or “pleasing.” My interest or focus is on the process of creating and connecting to my natural creativity. The main discipline is to let go." Yes, yes, yes, I have been looking for this roadmap.

Now I know this may seem odd, even shocking to artists out there who are not Dharma practitioners. "What is the point of this, destroying something beautiful that you have created?" And of course this is not necessary. No one needs to do this, if they don't feel drawn to. But for me there is a call to produce something that comes from past my attachment (maybe you go there already, through some natural process of your own, this is quite possible) For me DKR's following comment is what beckons: " Nevertheless, the artist continuously has to step out of the way and not obstruct the nature of mind that is in the work as it is being produced..... I can remove myself from the work and allow it to have its own life.... There is a deep feeling of satisfaction. The satisfaction comes in knowing that the evolution of the painting on the outside reflects how resolved I feel on the inside through the discipline of relinquishing all attachment. The moment I stop painting is when the outside and the inside conicide in this way. That is when the painting itself reflects a natural, uncontrived awareness."

And the one final aspect of DKR's articles that calls to me is about trust. I am working with attachment and trust these days in my work, wrestling and writhing and struggling around the studio floor. Some days I am down for the count with Mara flashing me the victory sign. It is not a pretty sight and yet it seems to be part of the process for me. I think I am coming to the point with DKR's help where I can just go in work (some days) and be okay with what happens (ah acceptance).

But back to trust, which is a deep and penetrating issue for me, one that is taking a long time to get through my thick, rhinoceros skin. Here's what he has to say about trust in the artistic and life process: "When we talk about creating art—or more importantly, the art of living a sane life—it means trusting our basic nature and its natural creativity. Natural creativity is something very large, the essence of everything. As artists we make such a big deal about creating something “good,” something “pleasing.” We want everyone to love our creations in order to confirm our existence. Our insecurities, hopes, and fears haunt us. Either we feel we lack the ability to create or we use art as a means to solidify ourselves: “Look here, my art is in the Guggenheim!” “Look at my résumé, I danced with the Russian Ballet!” Don’t let your insecurities rob you of your trust! Just remember, this natural energy created the entire universe—a humbling thought that puts our own artistic creations in perspective! Think: “The universe is here! Where did it come from?” Then have some trust and let this natural energy express itself."

You can watch him create a painting here and this will give you a little feeling for how the process works. After that I think it is just going in there and working away until it finally sinks into our blood and bones and the ah ha moment arrives. Happy creating!

From The Shadows

This little 8x10 was an experiment (isn't all art?). I love creating textured and layered backgrounds, scratching and rubbing and working the paint. So after the layers of brown and green and yellow had gone on and dried I sat down in front of the canvas and closed my eyes. When I opened them, images suggested themselves from the background: first the moon and then the reflected moon, then the Buddha in the foreground. I closed my eyes and looked back again. And so on and so on until I had a host of shadowy figures. I thought of how sculptors talk about looking at a piece of stone until the form makes itself known and then their work is to release it.

This is a darker, more ethereal work than usual and in a strange way it painted itself. The process was a further exploration of trust and faith that I talked about several posts back; trusting that if we wait and listen something will come. It might not be what we expected, but something authentic will make itself known. ( Trust is also a focus for August over at Donna Iona Drozda's blog).

In our (my) usual rush to fill up the uncomfortable void where we don't know what's next, I generally trod over this delicate part of myself, me of skeptical self, of unexplored trust. So there was a slightly uncomfortable relationship with both the creating and with this dark, shadowy image that emerged, but there it is. I suspended judgment and called it done.

I have been enjoying the post retreat posts (does that make sense?) over at 108zenbooks, ones asking us to dig a little deeper, asking questions like what life sentences have we given ourselves. How do we hold ourselves hostage by the stories we tell ourselves or the ones we have accepted that were told to us by others? We create the self as a solid entity, almost by accident. For the most part we forget to tell ourselves the story of our Buddha nature, of our kind, generous, talented and wise inclinations.

And so this little painting reminds me that the shadow is the necessary accompaniment to light. It is always there even when we don't notice it. If we pay enough attention and suspend denial we might learn something.

All this talk of darkness and light makes me think of The Sandokai by Sekito Kisen recited in Zen monasteries. Here is a small portion of the poem relating to light & dark: May it shed some light.

Within light there is darkness, but do not try to understand that darkness;

Within darkness there is light, but do not look for that light.

Light and darkness are a pair, like the foot before

and the foot behind, in walking. Each thing has its own intrinsic value

and is related to everything else in function and position.

About helping and attachment

Here is the continuing saga... In my head I knew I shouldn't be attached to how the story of my friend without a home played out. I meet with a group of friends every Wednesday morning and I had great hopes that someone there would have something to offer that might help this woman, a place to park her vehicle off the street, a temporary shelter where she could exchange work or care for housing, some sort of lead. But at the end of the morning it seemed no one could think of an option that might work. Maybe someone might even have a lead on the little chinook camper that she was determined was the only replacement for her wrecked camper. I felt my heart sink and saw all the signs of disappointment and attachment to results when the morning ended. A common scenario I think, we know some spiritual truth in our heads, but it plays out differently in our lives. Theory and practice sit at different ends of the highway. There it is reminding us of our work, the suffering we cause ourselves through our wanting, even if what we want is wholesome and/or altruistic.

I made some phone calls to people in the helping professions that I know and followed a few threads. I could still feel that agitation of wanting, the wanting to resolve the problem, of wanting to get it taken care of. None of my leads produced a definitive answer but each one seemed to lead in the direction of a solution. I could see the inclination to impatience. Where are those return phone calls?!

In the afternoon I went to visit my friend in her motorhome. She wasn't there. And for some reason that made me feel like she was okay, that life was going on for her, that I didn't need to rescue her. I left her a note and later she called back to thank me for my concern and offers and to remind me that I had already done some things for her, that all she really needed was for me to be there for her, that I didn't need to rescue her.

And so I relaxed into what else had to be done in my life right now which consists of finding homes for the pieces of furniture and other "stuff" that I don't need or want to take with me when I move and finding a place to move to when March 1st rolls around. I no longer felt the stress of one more thing that needed to be done.

And so tomorrow will open with a few options that I can follow up for her, now without that insistent attachment to the outcome. Because she has trust and faith in the universe that she was able to convey to me I can relax into whatever comes up. It doesn't mean I won't follow all the leads that come up. It just means I won't be stressed out or feel need tugging on my coat sleeve. What a gift she has offered me. Who is helping who?

Pink Buddha Peels An Onion

I was thinking that the lattice grid in this mixed media piece I recently finished was bamboo fencing.  It was pointed out to me that in fact it looks more like the Buddha in jail.  I agreed and symbolically and metaphorically it is kind of appropriate.  Really we are all Buddhas imprisoned by our attachments, our habitual tendencies and whatever else obscures our Buddha nature.  So maybe this image came from somewhere deeper than my conscious awareness.

In Buddhism they often use the analogy of peeling the layers of an onion for the work we do in practice.  And I am working away at another layer, tugging way at it like some little sharp toothed creature in the compost bin.  It looks a lot like some previous layers (onions are like that).  (They also make you cry sometimes.)  I am seeing how deeply my "wanting" of things colours my vision.  I am seeing it in an "Oh yeah, I'm getting that now," bang-yourself-on-the side- of the- head kind of way.  

In this specific instance (booking back to back weekends with art shows)  (and my Zen teacher always says it's individual situations that count, generalizations just don't work for practice)  I came to see the domino effect of "wanting": wanting to generate some activity, wanting to make something happen, wanting to sell some art, wanting to take control.  Was I trying to escape boredom?  Was I trying to create the life I imagined others to be living?  Did I belief that some success or outcome in the world would make me happy?  Yes, yes, and yes.  Also let me qualify here that this action that was not right for me might be fine for someone else.  For me it fed into an deeply ingrained habitual tendency.

This wanting tipped a domino that rippled perfectly down the line, as dominoes do, and caused some suffering(ouch those dominoes are harder than you think!).  As I looked back at what I'd done (hindsight can be a wonderful teacher when we're willing to sit in his class) I could see not only what I'd done on this occasion (not choose carefully, not think about timing, imagine how things should go) but see the pattern stretching back in other situations in my life.  It was sobering and instructive.  

What I was really reminded of was the best way to live my life.  It seems a little clearer, a little less confusing from this side of the domino pile.  It consists of living from my true self, my inner knowing.  How do I do this?  Well it requires some patience which is not always a strong point of mine.  It requires me to really contemplate the question "what is it good to do?"  and then not act until I feel clear about it.  As I thought about the whole process what life was really asking of me was that I go into my studio and paint, not worry so much about results and sales, just trust a little.  

In a way it is about being true to who you are, instead of listening to all the clamouring that goes on out in the world.  A phrase that has often come to me is "what is yours will come to you."  I hope that doesn't sound like magical thinking or new agey or "secretey" because it isn't meant to.  It's about letting go.  And ultimately letting go is about faith and trust.  It's about doing what needs to be done.  It's about acknowledging that ultimately this little me is not in control.  I've probably said all this before.  So if it seems like I'm repeating myself it's because I need to hear it again.  And of course it never stands against appropriate action.  It doesn't mean we should hide ourselves away in our studios and never do any marketing and promotion.  It means we should contemplate these activities as deeply as we would other aspects of our lives.  And here I use the word contemplate as opposed to "think" because it implies that deep inner knowing, the "sitting with" the question until it becomes clear.  It is not something generated by pure logic but comes from a deeper place and is a deeper way of knowing.  When we can truly connect with this place then we don't act out of desperation or wanting or fear.

I will end with a quote from John Daido Loori that appeared in the most recent issue of Shambhala Sun:  "None of the antidotes to stress -- numbing ourselves, running away, the various therapies -- will ever really get to the root of it.  We actually hold on to our stress.  It is a way of holding on to our positons, our beliefs, our sense of being right -- our self.    In that tightness and rigidity, the body cannot deal with it and the mind cannot deal with it.  We suffer because we will not let go."

Faith, Trust And Children

Quite a while ago and at the urging of my Zen teacher I gave up "wanting" certain things for my daughter.  She is grown (a whole 26 and has been living at the other end of the country for the last 4 years).  Her mother thinks she is underemployed and has scads of potential that she isn't using.  But in truth this isn't any of her mother's business.  I only get one life to live for myself and that's my own.  The news flash is everyone else gets to live their own life as they see it.

In the past this wanting has created a kind of unspoken tension.  All my questions and suggestions imply that she is somehow not doing the right thing or that she is broken and needs fixing.  Not a particularly helpful or supportive message to be sending out to someone you love.  Yet that's what we do sometimes in the name of love, in wanting to help, in thinking we know best.  We get confused and have a hard time seeing these close personal relationships very clearly.   It often takes a little bit (or a lot) of pain before the picture comes into focus in the view finder.  Confusion and attachment can make a bitter brew that choke our relationships and cause suffering all round.

After a painful kind of visit last summer and a lot of work I began to let  go of my expectations and desires for her.  She has a full and busy life and we came to accept that it is okay to talk to her every two weeks.  We could accept that she is not a big phone chatter and doesn't feel the need to check in and talk about all the details of her life.   And there seems to be  less implied pressure in the new improved phone conversations.  I like to think that the lack of grasping, of needing her to be a certain way can be felt across the miles and makes for pleasanter conversation. 

The really interesting thing to me is that she called this morning to ask me to read a covering letter and resume she is using to apply for a new job.  Finally time and circumstances have taken their course (that all my prodding could not make happen) and she has had enough of her current job as a cook.  I am not  promoting magical thinking but it is interesting how when we let go of some attachment, the energy can change and circumstances may change in surprising ways.  And through all the hard work I've put in around this issue, I am truly okay with whatever happens.  

So I could tell her that it was a really good resume and cover letter that she'd written and that I'd hire her even if she wasn't my daughter!  She then pointed out a couple of things that might be good to add and I agreed and offered a little input.  Then she went on her way to put in her 11th hour application.

As my friend the monk pointed out my daughter is employed, looks after herself, has lots of friends and is happily making a life for herself.  Sure she has her own karmic little package, but we all do.  And that is up to her.  So I offered my input when asked for it and wished her luck with her application.  I look forward to hearing the next chapter and know whatever it is that happens, the universe is as it should be, and something greater is always working itself out.  The ability to rest in that place is the true meaning of faith and trust.

Tuning in to the Dharma on TV

It was a cold and wintery night here and we took the opportunity to make some comfort food and snug up in front of ye old telly.  I was reminded that you can find the Dharma anywhere (even on the boob tube!) as we watched a show on the food channel where contestants vie for the title of top chef and a bit of spare change.  I have watched it off and on over the months and tonight was the grande finale.  There was a woman in it who has always appeared graceful and kind.  This is not always the case in the heat of kitchen combat.  

And tonight I saw pure Dharma unfold, and it was a cautionary tale for me.  This woman like all of us has produced some things of great beauty with personality and passion but she has also produced some of the biggest flops on the show.  But somehow she has always managed to regain her composure and shine again.  

So the pressure was on tonight and each contestant got a sous chef to help them cook the best 3 course meal they could.  Their helpers were former contestants.  At one point in the meal preparation, Karla, this delightful chef that I was rooting for, took a suggestion from her helper that altered the preparation of her main course in a big way.  We watched her take this suggestion quickly, as in yeah okay, lets do that.  Later she did it again and in the turn of a spoon changed her final course to a little souffle (not in her original plan) which subsequently flopped and was unservable.

Now the clear Dharma message for me was: we come undone when we don't follow our heart, our intuition, our true self, our inner knowing; however you want to express that.   The judges commented on how "not her" the meat course was and that it was a flop.  And interestingly the souffle that met the bin rather than the judges table was also not her idea.  How often do we do that?  Not trust our instincts, not trust our inner menu plan?  Why did Karla do it?  Was she trying to be accommodating, trying to be liked (a big motivator for many of us), did she truly think Casey's ideas were better, or was she just a little frazzled under all the pressure?

I don't know the answer but I can use this information next time I want to second guess what feels right to d0.  Sometimes it's not easy to stick to your original plan.   It's about faith and trust in ourselves.  Sometimes we get a sense that, maybe I should call so and so, or I think I should pass on this seemingly wonderful job opportunity.  Logic can kick in and tell us that this seems goofy, but somewhere deep inside we have an inner knowing of what is the right thing to do.  It is a skill to simply be aware of those blood and bones feelings.  It can be tricky  to distinguish between those voices vying for attention in our head.  But as we practice we become more acquainted with the true authentic voice of the inner self, sometimes it is just a whisper and sometimes it's a ear splitting shout.  

The second part of the puzzle is to actually have faith and follow through with execution of the plans of the heart.   Karla started out with a plan that was a true expression of Karla but allowed it to be altered and that became her final undoing.   For her it  was a hard way to learn the lesson of  "listen to your deepest self"  but we don't forget those difficult lessons quickly.  Me, I was just an observer  in the 3 ring cooking circus of life but the message seemed clear and instructive.  No matter what's on the menu, make sure that you're reading from that  inner recipe sheet.  Second guessing leads to burnt offerings at best.  And hold the salt, it doesn't go well with wounds.