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.

Self Confidence And No Self?

I am taking an energy healing course and there is a meditation on the heart centre which lists the attributes of the heart: compassion, harmony, healing presence and unconditional love. The meditation feels a lot like metta or loving kindness practice. It feels nourishing, like filling up a well. I feel a bit like a sponge soaking up the feelings of compassion, harmony, healing and love. It feels like when the sponge is full, I can squeeze it and a wonderful warm liquid will trickle out like golden drops of elixir into the world.

Over at Peter's monkey mind today, he asks the question, why do we continue to tell ourselves stories that are unhelpful and unkind, stories that perhaps have been told to us or we have come to believe on our own.

In the west it seems our habit is to find ourselves lacking; never quite measuring up. It is the rare bird that appreciates their strengths and exudes a healthy self confidence (as opposed to a puffed up ego based confidence). When the Dalai Lama was once asked about how to deal with feelings of self loathing, he required a lengthy explanation of what that was. When he finally understood what was meant, he emphatically said something like, "No, this is wrong," quite forcefully. Such feelings apparently don't exist in Tibetan culture.

There are many teachers that remind us of how important a healthy self confidence is (Tarthang Tulku, Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche). But I hear you wondering out loud about this, "so if there is no self, (which is one of the tenets of Buddhism) what's this about becoming self confident? So in my understanding of the examination of self, it is not that "self" doesn't exist at all, but that it is not fixed and is always moving and changing, and so doesn't exist in any inherent or fixed way. And on the way to our personal discovery of this ethereal, flimsy, hole filled self, we need to have confidence in the little self, the every day person. We need to nourish this being that navigates the world, to give our being the courage and enthusiasm for this life and our practice, so that we can wake up and contribute to this world in helpful and meaningful ways.

Our job is to wake up and use our gifts fully because no one has the gifts you have and can offer to the world in your unique and interesting way. This is self confidence, the ability to see clearly, to keep on keeping on, and to have faith in our lives and those around us. We are here to join hands in this human journey and pull each other up when we need pulling and offer a hand to dance sometimes.

So, it is Spring, a time of new beginnings, a good time to nourish the seeds of new habits. This unruly mind needs weeding and then the planting of wholesome crops. So why not look inside and discover the riches there. Begin each day by telling yourself about them. Encourage yourself, offer uplifting words to yourself and you may find the well filling up and spilling out in to the world in ways that cultivate growth and nourish in weird and wonderful manners. And please, don't forget to put me on your dance card.

She Who Hears The Cries Of The World

I received a wonderful treat in the mail today, a White Tara With Deer" painting by friend and amazing artist, Lasha Mutual who is working her way toward 108 White Tara paintings. Sharing our Buddhist practice and art, we decided to do a little trade. The piece is exquisite, full of delicious detail. Someone has called her a modern, Canadian Thangka painter and I think this is quite apt. I even got a sneak preview of her beautiful paintings as a "Tara Deck", an amazing presentation for her paintings.

I have been turning this lovely Tara into Goldilocks, taking her around to try every room in the house. She has not complained once about the porridge or the chairs. I am like a kid with a new toy. I am reminded of my daughter as a small child, who loved some new running shoes so much, they needed to sit at the end of the bed at night! (Tara is a bit too delicate for that and I fear her fate in this case would be quite distressing!)

Thinking about this beauty I headed off to the great library in cyberspace to read about Tara and what I found seems strangely appropriate for the world these days, making me feel doubly grateful for her presence.

The word Tara itself is derived from the root 'tri' (to cross), hence the implied meaning:' the one who enables living beings to cross the Ocean of Existence and Suffering'. Her compassion for living beings, her desire to save them from suffering, is said to be even stronger than a mother's love for her children. Suffering seems to be in great abundance around the world these days so Tara's help is needed on so many fronts.

White Tara, specifically is often referred to as the Mother of all the Buddhas. She represents the motherly aspect of compassion. Her white colour indicates purity, but also indicates that she is Truth, complete and undifferentiated.

She has seven eyes: the two usual eyes, plus an eye in the centre of her forehead and eyes in each of her hands and feet. These indicate that she sees all suffering and all cries for help in the human world using both ordinary and psychic or extraordinary means of perception. They thus symbolize the vigilance of her compassion.

May her compassion emanate out to you and to all corners of the world. And now what room will I take her to next?

One at the Beginning, One at the End

After a lovely day of wandering the island and having a mini feast that we conjured up in the new kitchen ( a little red pepper homous, sun dried tomato tapenade, Moroccan lentil soup, some raw olives, a few dolmades ... you're getting the feasting picture!) we are preparing to join Peter in his alternative new year's celebration. We have lit the fire in the Zendo (first time), have some candles and my singing bowl waiting to ring 108 times (alas, no bell). And then a we will each write something we want to let go of and toss it into the fire and then for a few sips of something bubbly at midnight.

But as I sat down to write in my journal, I found something I wanted to share with you, a little new year's offering. It's a quote I'd copied in March from my daughter's copy of "Taking The Leap' by Pema Chodron, something that had impressed me enough to scrawl into my journal. Perhaps it's a good way to send off the old year and step over the threshold of the new one??

"In the Buddhist teachings on compassion there's a practice called "one at the beginning, and one at the end." When I wake up in the morning, I do this practice. I make an aspiration for the day... I try not to make it too grandiose ... I begin with a clear intention and then I go about the day with this in mind. In the evening I review what happened. This is the part that can be so loaded for Western people. We have an unfortunate tendency to emphasize our failure. But when Dzigar Kongrul teaches about this, he says that for him when he sees that he has connected with his aspiration even once briefly during the whole day he feels a sense of rejoicing. He also says that when he recognizes he lost it completely, he rejoices that he has the capacity to see that. This way of viewing ourselves has been very inspiring for me. He encourages us to ask what it is in us, after all, that sees that we lost it. Isn't it our own wisdom, our own insight, our own natural intelligence? "

"Can we just have the aspiration, then to identify with the wisdom that acknowledges that we hurt someone's feelings or that we smoked when we said we wouldn't? Can we have the aspiration to identify more and more with our ability to recognize what we're doing instead of always identifying with our mistakes? This is the spirit of delighting in what we see rather than despairing in what we see. It's the spirit of letting compassionate self-reflection build confidence rather than becoming a cause for depression." - Pema Chodron, from "Taking the Leap"

Here is my wish for us all for 2011, that we might "feel that sense of rejoicing when we connect even briefly with our aspirations, that we identify with our wisdom and natural intelligence and that we develop the "spirit of delighting in what we see." Bows to you all for your good company on this journey.

Enemies? Invite Them To Tea

Here's a photo of me building a little gate for some wee folk who make their home up on Mt Erskine. All manner of offering have been left by their door so I couldn't just walk by without making some contribution. Let's say I built them a peace arch. This is an offering so that they may live in harmony with all the little folk in their lives and all the creatures they encounter.

In fact this is an auspicious wish for any of us, large or small. Last week when I was in Victoria I had the great pleasure of having coffee with a group of folks who are part of a little Sangha I belong to. It's not a traditional Sangha but a delightful one. We have a fearless organizer and over the years we have attended all manner of Buddhist events together, gathered for potlucks and watched Buddhist movies. Conversation ranges all over the planet in an enthusiastic, harmonious sort of way.

Just before we flew off on our various errands the topic of politics came up. My answer was, "I don't do that anymore." We went back and forth a bit with someone pointing out that politics brings social change. My feelings were that it's too divisive, it's not where I choose to put my energy anymore. It creates us and other and somehow that never seems helpful. If our intention as we go out into the world is "to do no harm" , to be helpful, working from a place of opposition doesn't seem helpful to me. Go ahead, call me Pollyanna but I think that true change comes from people "walking a mile in someone's shoes (even if the fit isn't so great)", from getting to know the "other, from the "other" getting to know us and somehow over time, change can happen. Without that softening of positions and stories, it is hard to make any real headway, whatever your cause. If you win the battle and leave field full of bodies behind you, what have you won?

Someone in the group commented that they'd heard Buffy Ste. Marie at a rally and after someone gave a rather fierce political entreaty. She came on stage and said something like, "after all these years, I think the best idea is to invite them to dinner." It's not unlike Gandhi's comment about the British when told of some action they were about to engage in. "I would like to invite them for tea and biscuits," (and he did, offering them several rounds of biscuits).

It seems important to me that we follow through on our intentions to be compassionate and helpful. And yes it is difficult but I look to people like the Dalai Lama and his position toward China when I think of difficult situations. What better role model could we ask for?

Green Tara On Wisdom & Compassion

I have been inspired by Lynne Hoppe who has been creating these amazing faces on old book pages and sharing them on her blog. They are amazing. You really ought to pop over there and have a look. So although I find the format a little on the small side I just had to try one. Here's a little monk on a page of an old book called "Something Special".

We have been spending some time over at the Duck Creek Gallery where the Tibetan Lama Tenzin Tsundu is creating a Green Tara sand mandala. Each day he starts with a meditation, some chanting and a little Dharma talk. The room is filled with wonderful energy and smiling faces. Yesterday, Dorje the dog joined us and today 6 month old Sophia sat wide eyed for the chanting.

Today Lama asked "how will we use this precious life?" What will we devote our time and attention to? He reminded us that this is an important subject of contemplation. He showed us the lotus flowers that Tara was holding, one for compassion and one for wisdom. These are the two important ingredients that guide us in our lives. We need wisdom to see clearly, to help us cut through our delusion and attachments, to help us see the importance of compassion, to see how to be compassionate in our smallest action.

If we just sit on our mat, do a little meditation, say a few prayers, what is the value of that, Lama asked. Our practice needs to be out there in our lives. We develop wisdom through our meditation and then we take it out into the world in the form of compassion.

As an act of letting go, of manifesting impermanence, as well as dispersing blessings, Lama will take the sand from the mandala down to the ocean on Sunday. His work of exquisite detail and beauty, a weeks work will be swept into a pile of mixed sand and swept up in the ocean waves. Could you do this with something of great beauty that you had poured yourself into every day, all day long for a week?

If you live on Vancouver Island or nearby there are a couple of interesting opportunites to offer support for Tibetan Earthquake victims and in return receive teachings from a wide range of Tibetan teachers and feast on Tibetan treats. Momos and Dharma anyone?

Knitting The Giant Rumpled Sweater of Humanity

Everywhere you go these days there is talk and relief efforts being directed toward the situation in Haiti. Over at Full Contact Enlightenment I was touched by a quote posted a few days ago. "The misery of millions is not a cause for pity. Rather it is a cause for developing compassion." His Holiness the Dalaï Lama

It reminded me that this arising of compassion is so natural when we see suffering in the world. If we remember not to turn away, if we can step outside our own small worries, we cannot help but feel the tug to help. You can see this as people everywhere watch the news and respond by opening their hearts and wallets. In situations like this people go to amazing and creative places to offer food and supplies, and prayers.

It is interesting to watch because not only does it help those in need and trauma but it brings people together, it knits us into a tighter community with a common cause. We become a giant, slightly rumpled sweater of humanity offering warmth and comfort to those in need. And in our helping, our hearts open, our spirits are lifted and we experience our "Buddha nature". We feel generous and alive and connected to our human family. And as the Dalai Lama points out we experience compassion.

A fellow Vancouver Islander and Etsian, Sarah over at Kooandpoppet, donated 50% of her sales for a period, from her cute and quirky little handmade creatures, to Haiti. Great idea! So this coming week I will do the same over at my Etsy shop. Also locally, in Victoria, there will be Multi faith prayers and donations at Christ Church Cathedral on Monday at 4:30 pm. And an email arrived today from a friend about a group called Shelter Box. Check this out. 11 plastic tubs make a temporary hospital. One box provides shelter for 10 people.

And so again the question arises for me, do we have the strength to open our hearts and be touched deeply by what comes to us. Can we look inside and ask "what is it good to do", rather than flip the channel or turn away and feel overwhelmed. I think this is what it means to live the Dharma.

The Four Immeasurables - Holiday Baking Without Cups

On Thursday night I went to hear a talk by a Tibetan teacher. It was part of a series of 4 talks on "Trans- forming Suffering". It was easily accessible and I was curious to hear the Dharma from a Tibetan point of view, as the direct teachings I am most familiar with come from a Soto Zen perspective.

The talk was on the 4 Immeasurables which are Love or Lovingkindness, Joy or Sympathetic Joy, Compassion and Equanimity. It was interesting to me that he started his talks here, rather than the 4 Noble Truths (life is suffering, attachment is the cause of suffering, there is an end to suffering, and the 8 fold path is the way to this end.)

If you're not familiar with Buddhism, you will probably twig onto the fact that (as the joke goes) Buddhism is a religion of lists. I always think this is because Buddhism is so logical and things are organized in a way for people to examine and study the ideas that form it's basis. So if you're a list maker, this may be the practice for you!

In my understanding of Zen, you do your practice and these qualities arise. They are not cultivated, per se. At least there were no practices associated with these states of mind in the Sangha in which I practiced. This belief is based on the fact that you can't make these things happen. They take time to develop. They arise naturally as a result of practice. Let me say that I am by far no expert on the subject, this is just my understanding of it. And also, I am not offering criticism but exploring the path. Allan Wallace, in a book called "Buddhism With An Attitude" says: "The treasure is really within your own mind and heart. Teachers, traditions, techniques, all have the single purpose of helping unveil that which is already within you." This is the spirit of my exploration here.

The 4 Immeasurables are based on the fact that we are all connected and the Buddhist belief that in past and future lives we have been and will be closely connected with those who now seem to be our enemies or those to whom we are indifferent. And even if this is an idea you need to put on the back burner or reject completely, it is easy to understand that embracing feelings of love, joy, equanimity and compassion in this life are indeed more pleasant and generally helpful to the world than their opposites.

The love that forms part of the 4 immeasurables is not our traditional idea of romantic love, but the type of love or loving kindness you might feel to your child or someone dear to you. The aim is to extend this outward to others. This is done through a loving kindness meditation in which you first generate love toward yourself and as you become more skilled you radiate it out into the world, working from friends and family, to neutral people and then toward people we have difficulty with, and finally to all beings.

This practice is repeated for the cultivation of compassion in which we generate the wish that beings be free from suffering. Joy or sympathetic joy, which I think is more descriptive, (I have also heard it called appreciative joy) is taking pleasure or finding joy in the good fortune and success of others. It is an extending out of feelings of happiness when things go well for others. It helps in loosening the grip of our habitually self centred feelings. In my mind it expresses the true sentiment of generosity of spirit.

And the last of the 4 immeasurables is equanimity which I think we all long for. Equanimity in my mind is that steady feeling of everything is fine just the way it is, right now. We are neither pushing away what we don't want or chasing after what we desire. We are not overly excited or discouraged. It expresses true peace with what is.

I know that amongst old Zen friends the question would sometimes come up, well if these things don't arise or don't arise for a long time, wouldn't it be good to cultivate them in some way? For me, right now I feel that I would like to spend some time cultivating the weedy parts of my mind, that I would like to explore working with habitual mind sets that don't lean naturally toward joy, love, compassion and equanimity. Maybe you'll have to give me a little poke and see how I'm doing with it.

Is That So?

I am going to get a reputation as an art recycler! Here is Green Tara again, a slightly zoomed in view. No wrinkles or skin imperfections like us humans, just a complexion of papers: Chinese newspaper, and rice paper with Korean lettering, a little bit of map, some florist paper that I liked from a bouquet. Tara comes from everywhere, she is part of all things, including florist paper and polka dot tissue. And of course her mantra is tucked away in all the script: Om Tara, Tuttare, Ture Svaha.

I am still pondering those "afflictive emotions" as the monk referred to them at the Fire Puja. I woke up this morning thinking about the story of the old monk who is accused of fathering a young woman's baby. "Is that so?" he says as they deliver the child to him to care for. When they return years later to collect the child, after the mother confesses that he was not the father, again he says "is that so?" I wished I could have been more like this monk as I listened to the twists and turns of yesterday's real estate story. It would have felt very powerful to say to the realtor, "is that so?" But then I am not a monk, in case you haven't noticed!

As we headed to the art gallery this morning for our sit with the sand mandala monks I reminded myself of the irony that each morning I go and sit in the presence of the mandala of compassion but that I was having an awfully hard time feeling one iota of compassion for the woman yanking on our real estate chain. Imagined compassion and real compassion are two different things! This was being played out for me in full colour.

So today the whole ball of real estate yarn unravelled into a wet lump of slightly stinky wool. We suspected it was heading in that direction. And after you're finished feeling angry and betrayed as we were yesterday, today you feel the melancholy of disappointment. And you watch it all rise and fall and blow over, a little storm of afflictive emotion, complete with wind and rain and dark skies. It feels grey for a bit and then as the afternoon wears on the sun pokes it's head out.

It's good to work, to carry on, to not collapse into a little pool of despair or get too tangled in the stories and drama and trying to make sense of it all. So I went off to paint. (I think I might even have something new to post tomorrow!) I went to do an errand. The cool fall air and the coloured leaves on the sidewalk were somehow comforting. Exchanging pleasant words with the folks working in the bank and the grocery store was vaguely uplifting. As I drove home I reminded myself that this is a friendly universe and I simply need to have faith.... faith in the fact that life unfolds as it should, and as I read somewhere, the Buddhas are always raining down help on us; it's just that somehow we don't notice.

Considering Compassion

I think I need to paint a little faster! You must be tired by now of seeing different shots of the same Buddha, but here he is again just a little more up close and personal. But I am working on a Green Tara painting that should be ready to photo tomorrow. It's quite different from my usual Buddhas. With any luck you will see tomorrow.

Life is strangely disjointed around here with our house for sale, as we are constantly in a state of cleaning up and leaving for an hour here, an hour there. The constant transition from one activity to another makes it more difficult to paint. I find I need time to just mooch and muck about and sit and stare, that an hour here or there just accounts for a lick or two of paint. Starting and stopping doesn't seem too productive. I get to see how I am attached to a certain way of working. Perhaps if I worked this way for a long time I might learn to slip more easily in and out of the painting state? Or is it like meditation? Our qi gong teacher always says if you sit for too short a time, even if you sit 3 or 4 times a day, you are like a pot that is constantly taken on and off the heat. You never get enough heat going to come up to a boil!

We went again to sit with the monks at the art gallery this morning. They were joined by an additional monk today. It is fun to notice that their hair is growing and the new monk sported a hint of a moustache. Ah, the impermanence of hair! One monk put on some sun glasses this morning to cut the glare that reflects off the sparkly coloured sand under the strong gallery lights. He looked quite movie starish. He is the monk who looks slightly grumpy or bored to me but he is always the first to sit down to work on the mandala. The youngest monk who looks so at ease, wandered the gallery this morning with a small digital camera, taking photos of his fellow monks and some of the art work. The hand-out that tells a bit about the monks said he entered the monastery when he was 7. It is fun to look at the monks and observe their very human traits, the physical and perceived personality differences. And yet (as all of us humans) there is that impenetrable aspect to them, the inner part of another human being that we can never know; the complex mix of karma, past experience, inclinations, health, longings, habitual tendencies. We humans are complex little packages.

And as I sat at the Mandala of Compassion I hoped that compassion was being absorbed into my pores, that some invisible, mysterious action was taking place, that a thin layer of compassion dust was settling on me, that I was breathing it into my lungs and heart. Compassion by osmosis ... I imagined something happening that would cause compassion to arise more naturally, more easily in me. I have had this experience in other aspects of my spiritual life, where after months or perhaps years of wanting and trying to accomplish some aspect of spirit (not feel so much anger, or attain more focus) that the strived after quality or desired outcome arrived much later, of its own accord. My teacher has always said this is "the fruits of training" and that the timing is not up to us.

As I sat with the monks I reminded myself to focus some conscious awareness on compassion for myself and others, to bring it to mind during the day. It reminded me to ask the question as I go about my day "how can I be helpful here?" Not in any do-gooder kind of way but in a way that supports people and situations. Sometimes compassion is something that just oozes out of you so that you can empathize deeply with others, someone or some circumstance opens a little compassion gate inside you. Somehow your self protective skin becomes invisible for a time and the deep needs of another are as important to you as your own. Unexplainable, effortless even. No striving. No me, I'm being compassionate, just compassion.

As I watched the monks start work on the mandala I noticed the focus, the attention they devote to the tiny lines of sand they are shaking, with such care, out of the little metal funnels. Just a moments lapse could ruin a line, create an unsightly lump. I don't see any in all their work. I watch as they go over the lines again. It's like practice I think. We go over the same thing again and again, building it up, making it more solid and visible, stronger. Their hands are so steady. They work slowly, with intent. Sometimes I get antsy when I work and have a hard time settling down. Does that ever happen for them, I wonder?

Later in the day, as I leave a shop where I am getting some photo copies of the Green Tara mantra, to use on my painting, I see 2 of the monks, finished work for the day, walking down the street with the office workers. They don't look happy or sad. They are not talking. They are just walking toward downtown, just fully engaged in the act of walking I imagine. No stories, at least not ones I know. Just the swish of saffron and maroon robes and the cool fall air on their bare arms

Thinking Mind, Grumbling Mind, Embrace Them All

Here is another refining. I have touched up Buddha, adding some more subtle detail, somewhat in the same way that by doing my practice I am refining myself. It is true that we all have Buddha nature and depending on how you like to look at it we can see ourselves as scraping the "gunk" of our karma off our lovely personal self portraits to reveal the our true nature. Here we are energy, having a human experience. And the teaching reminds us that this is a rare and precious occasion. But how often do we (I) really remember that my human life is a rare and precious treat to be savoured and held with reverence?

I have been watching my grumbling mind again (still?). So what else is new? The little faults I find in daily things and people. I see the grumbling and my first inclination is "I don't like it". I resist this aspect of my humaness, my karma. I have a difficult time making friends with it, seeing it as just thoughts. I go immediately to the place of feeling "bad" that I am petty. I heard a talk in an online course called "Awakening Joy", I believe the woman's name was Catherine Ingram, where she talked about standing on the tube platform in London's underground and thinking: "I could just push that person over there onto the rail line." She said that doesn't make me a bad person. It is just a thought.

And my Zen teacher has pointed out, it is what we do with that thought that is important. If we have an angry thought, do we act on it? Or do we simply feel the internal power of that anger, its energy and watch it pass (however long that takes). It is our response that we are working with. Thoughts and emotions arise. Do we react (without care) or respond (by considering the bigger picture)?

Our future karma depends on this. Do we strengthen those inclinations of anger and me, me, me? Do we build the neural pathways that lead to similar future reactions? Or do we work to resist and restrain ourselves from following "unwholesome" paths of action? These are the questions of the day, of the weekend for me? This is the cutting edge of practice.

So if I am mindful I remember to be compassionate toward myself, instead of judgmental. I can look at the suffering that this little scenario has caused for me and see that it is the suffering that leads to the end of suffering. If I had acted on every little negative thought, this would be the suffering that leads to more suffering! And experience tells me that this is not the way to go. So here I am finding polishing the family heirlooms (the human family!).

Refining Our Lives

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

nger regard people as a drain on your energy.”

Do You React or Respond?

Today  I needed  a couple of photocopies to experiment on some image transfer techniques so I walked over to a nearby repro-graphics centre.  The young man at the counter looked very hip.  He had a purple shirt on with grey pinstripe pants and white shoes and a white belt.  He clearly had disdain for the minimum wage job he was working.  He was, shall we say indifferent to me and my requests, not so much rude, as bored and uninterested.

In the past I might have responded in kind, feeling somewhat insulted by his attitude but it has become part of my practice to notice such behaviour and rather than to react to it, to try to respond with kindness and caring.  I had asked for copies  on tracing paper which  a coworker promptly told him he couldn't  do.  When I said I had specifically called  a few days earlier and was told they would do it, so they proceeded with my request.  After he'd tried a few copies, came back for more tracing paper, gotten mixed up about how many copies of what he needed to do, I asked off handedly if it was an aggravating process.  For some reason this seemed to diffuse the situation and he completed the job, almost in good cheer, gave me a gazillion copies for 92 cents and offered an invoice and smiled.

It was an interesting exchange.  We both left the situation in a good frame of mind (no new unpleasant residue or karma created) and carried on with our respective days.  I find this scenario is repeated often in shops and restaurants where people are not particularly happy with their work situations.  Sometimes they respond with kindness and perk up when I make a little chit chat and sometimes not.  But always I know I have tried to meet them as a human being, not a server, not an object, and I have made an attempt to add a smidge of brightness to the day.

I did not come by this skill naturally.  I would regard myself as a polite Canuck but if a server was surly or rude, in the past I might have taken it personally and reacted by not being friendly back.  Isn't that what most of us do?  But taking my friend the Buddhist monk out on errands was especially instructive at first.  She always makes chit chat and even asks people's names and about their lives.  She is genuinely interested and goes out of her way to connect with them.  And it has been such an education to watch the grumpiest restaurant server warm to this treatment.  It is amazing to watch the transformation.  And kind of fun.  Now I am not her  and don't do the name or family question thing as it doesn't feel comfortable to me.  We need to make these things our own.  I am more likely to make a silly comment or tell about something related I have heard or seen, if it seems appropriate.  I adapt it my quieter, less outgoing self, still stretching further than has been my habit.

What you learn is that really the surly or indifferent behaviour is not personal and on some level people are suffering when they are grumpy or rude.  If we can spread a little good will by our simple choice to respond with compassion and kindness in the smallest situation then we have added something to the world.  We have made it a slightly friendlier place.  And we feel better for it.  We have not fallen victim to our own self centred "reacting", our self cherishing stance of "how dare you not treat me as the centre of the universe."  We are in control  and we are free when we respond with conscious choice rather than react with habitual tendencies.  We are not dragged around by our emotions.  And it gets to be a fun game or a new habit.  

We let someone in the traffic line, pop a coin in the expired parking meter .  We choose to express our sense of community, our recognition that we are all in the same leaky boat together, in small ways everyday.  We don't need to wait to do works of great philanthropy, we can start with grumpy Mrs. Smith down the street.  Maybe no one has spoken a pleasant word to her in 50 years because she grumbles at everyone.   Sometimes it's the little things that count.  A small gesture of kindness can brighten someone's day.  So perhaps it seems obvious, or not like the Dharma at all, but really that's how we aim ourselves in the direction of  enlightenment, one action at a time.