Behind You With A Knife

What is the colour of half a Buddha painting? Why green, of course if he/she's gone into the forest (and if I get to choose the colours!) He will of course, be offering a small blessing in the right hand corner which translates as "May all beings everywhere be happy and free". The Om Mani Padme Hum mantra is tucked away in small letters on the Buddha's robes and bordering the blue panel on the right. It has been fun doing this special request as it's kind of a collaboration between the buyer and painter. I added elements that I might not have thought of myself but I got to contemplate and interpret. I actually like the panels separated rather than pushed against each other. Is that some strange subliminal comment on the self??

The koan of daily life has been interesting this past month. If I was living in a little Zen parable it might go something like this: Someone very hungry asks me for food. Something in me immediately responds to the request and begins to prepare a meal. I'm not thinking. I'm just cooking. It seems this is what needs to be done. I ask the hungry person what they need to eat and get an idea, not really clear, but I think I know. I bring them the food. It is not right and they explain why. It makes sense to me and I go off to prepare another meal. I work hard. They are really hungry. It seems urgent. I feel the need, the pressure. I prepare meal number two. When I bring it to them, they have changed their mind again about what they need to quench their hunger. We go through this scenario 2 more times.

As the protagonist in this Zen parable I am a bit dense. The diner keeps moving the plate and I keep spilling the meal on the ground. I start to wonder if the diner is really hungry. And by meal number 4 I feel the anger rise. The diner has showed me the limits of my tolerance (good or bad). I see my expectations and attachment to them. I prepared them a meal, why don't they just eat? And even if they don't want it or like it, couldn't they express some gratitude or appreciation. And finally I think somehow I will save them from their hunger, help them put some deep seated need to rest by feeding them. I want to solve this problem, scratch some culinary itch.

By the end of our little chef and diner dance it is becoming clear, that I cannot satiate another's hunger. Perhaps the need goes deeper? Perhaps the diner is not asking for what is really needed? Perhaps the diner is really thirsty but expresses their need as hunger? Perhaps their request is beyond my ability? I am not a skilled enough chef. Perhaps I should offer the ingredients and leave them to put them together in a way that really works for them? In many ways there are more questions than answers flying around the kitchen.

At the same time I have learned that I still care about their hunger, that it is important to keep my heart open to them. I have learned about my expectations, not that they (the diner or the expectations) are bad, but that I experience suffering because I have expectations. I have learned that I need to keep my heart open to other hungry folks too, and not close the door to similar requests in the future because this one did not go the way I expected. Each diner and meal deserves to be considered on its own merit.

And the world is a hungry place, full of ingredients and ways to put them together, different foods & tastes, diners and cooks. It is not always as simple as we initially imagine. Sometimes it takes a lot of patience and experimentation. Sometimes it will work out deliciously and other times I might get something hot spattered in my eye. And in some cases I just need to order them take out and have it delivered.

To make a long story different, but equally long, I can tell you that I have experimented with some recipes that didn't exactly work out. And I have discovered it is always good to be on the learning end of the cutting board. Now as my daughter would say as she deftly moves around the kitchen: "behind you with a knife."

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.

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!