"Just To Be Alive Is A Grand Thing"

an oldie hanging out in the sunroom

"I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable,

racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly 
that just to be alive is a grand thing."
-- Agatha Christie


These days I am feeling that it is a "grand thing to be alive", really it is. Think about it, it really is kind of miraculous.  How did you get here?  Where did you come from? And how does all this apparatus called a body know how to work? And yet I haven't always felt this way.  And I have no particular idea of why I feel this way now but I am grateful that I do. I hope I can remember this when at some time in the future I am "racked with sorrow". 


Perhaps we don't remember this because we are so self centred, focused in on the minutiae of our lives, things like I wish we could get the stairs sanded or how did that mouse get into the basement. But when somehow we take ourselves out of the centre of the snapshot our view changes. I think of the poster I have seen on facebook with man at the top and animals in their descending pyramid. Next to it is another poster with the human placed somewhere in this great web of life, that's where we belong, really.  Who put us in charge anyway? Modern man hasn't been the best steward. I think we should be fired and an ad put out for new custodians of this lovely blue planet. And yet in some strange way it is all just fine. We get what we need, not what we want.  Does that sound new agey? It's not meant at all in that woo woo sort of way. It's meant in the way that actions produce results and reactions which is simply karma. Everything reverberates out into the universe. No exceptions.


But I am filling both our heads with words when really all I wanted to say was this:


the tiny heart bird
inside me
pitches a small song
into the landscape
of life

view from the kitchen

Happy Friday! And here's a small tap with the "ain't it grand to be alive" stick.

Tuning In To The Dharma Channel

Here's a little picture of some scrabble tile pendants I've been working on.  I want to create little pieces of wearable art from my own work and this is the first step.  So far as a techno-dunce I'm having some difficulty shrinking my images and maintaining their clarity.  These ones pictured are bits of Asian stamps and collaged paper and they seem to be working out fine.  Patience, patience.  No banging your head on the corner of the table when things don't work out!  On another art note if you feel like taking an electronic wander over to Indienorth next week I am doing a little art give-away on Beth's site.  But on to the Dharma, the underpinning of it all.

Last night as a comment, someone asked, "you always write about the Dharma, what do you actually mean when you say Dharma?"  Good question, yes?

The simple answer for me is that the Dharma means the teachings  of the Buddha.  And in my constant reference to the Dharma I am talking about how to apply (if you want to call it theory or teachings) the words of the Buddha to my everyday life.  If the Dharma says "have faith", what does that mean to me, how do I take the idea of faith and actually make it mine and use it on a daily basis.  If I just read about faith and think about faith but never really let it move out into my actions I may "know" about this aspect of the Dharma in my head but I haven't really tasted it.  I haven't lived it.  I haven't covered it in tears or brushed the dust off it.  So while in simple terms I think of the teachings of the Buddha as "The Dharma" an integral part of it is, as the Buddha said "make it true for yourself".  He encouraged this working with the Dharma.  So for me the Dharma is the basis for how I live my life, it is always there in the background.  In a way it's a part of the "Self" with a capital S, as opposed to the little self or ego.  Maybe it's like if we all have "Buddha Nature", we all have "Dharma Nature".

If one of the eightfold path is Right Speech then how does this aspect of the Dharma work in my life?   If I say I'm practicing Buddhism but never think about the gossip I engage in over coffee or how I talk to my daughter or my mother or my spouse where is the Dharma for me?  And I think we get to these places in stages, gradually peeling that metaphorical Buddhist onion.  First we have a niggle that maybe what we just said wasn't so nice.  And then we see how we are somehow drawn to do this, how we repeat this unpleasant behaviour.  Until one day we catch ourselves before the words come out of our mouth.  It can be tricky and it takes time --- a lifetime.  But in my mind this is what the Dharma is.  It's a guideline, a little reference book, a little light that I hold my actions up to and examine.  Is that a good thing to do?  For me it cuts through the confusion.  I can always think about "where is the Dharma in this situation?"  Where is the opportunity in this difficulty?  It brings me sanity when my mind goes to the crazy channel, not that I don't spend some time shopping on the crazy channel.  But somehow the Dharma channel is always playing in the background and as I watch my environment, I pick up the cues and finally hear it loud enough so that it helps point me in the right direction.

So it is important to study the Dharma and know what it says.  Otherwise how can it guide us?  And as in any learning process there are various ways of studying the Dharma.  We can read about it, listen to talks, go to retreats, be involved with a Sangha (a group of like minded practitioners) meet with a teacher.  We start with the basics and then refine our practice I think.  We work with our own personal stuff.  We all have different learning styles so some ways work better for different individuals.  

In my mind there are some essential ingredients to working with the Dharma.  First you need to do some form of study.  Then you need to do some sitting meditation.  Some of my best insights into what I should do or what my little self is up to, come when I'm sitting.  We need to be willing, willing to be honest with ourselves, willing to be uncomfortable, willing to be humble, willing to be disturbed by the truth.  But willingness is a key ingredient.  And I think at some point it is good to have a teacher.  For me my teacher helped (helps) clarify the confusion, calls me on my stuff when it's easier to pussy foot around it.  "Oh my daughter would think I'm just her crazy old mom if I said that to her."  And teacher just raises her eyebrow.  Or when I think I've mined a Dharma gem all the way down to the bottom, my teacher will say,  "I didn't get that you really felt your mother's pain at a heart level."  I might initially reject one of her suggestions.  I might feel insulted and huffy, but if it is a true statement I always see  it's truth in the end.  I can see what I might be pushing away.

So to make a short question long (a task I apparently excel at) the Dharma is the teachings of the Buddha and how it relates to my life in a moment by moment way.  I could go to Wikipedia and get you the Pali definition and a more in the "head" description, but I know you can do that on your own.  For me the Dharma is alive, it lives, it breathes, it enlightens.  It is the bringer of sanity and truth.  I can't imagine living anywhere but steeping in the Dharma.

Treat or Retreat

I am doing a little retreat of sorts, giving more time over to meditation and contemplation for a week.  Timing and circumstances have offered me the opportunity.  It has coincided with a period where I have been reading less Dharma.  This has not been any conscious decision but just happened.  It is interesting because my observation is that I am learning my "Dharma" more deeply, directly from my life.  It feels like when I read other more advanced practitioners and teachers I get it in my head, in an oh-yeah-that makes-sense kind of way.  And  then that finished, I move on and the idea or Dharma lesson floats somewhere on the surface, like a lovely little bubble.  It feels akin to naming things, when we see the bird or tree or whatever and name it, we think we know it.  But the phrase "knowing something too soon prevents us from really knowing it" comes to mind.  Somehow when we "know too soon" we don't really "see"  with any depth.  But if we stop to look, without the intervention of words and labels, somehow we give ourselves the space to really "see" things.  

So when I actually find fear in my life or sloth and torpor and really explore these things I "get it" at a deeper level.  So that's what this week is about, a little more first hand Dharma, a little more depth.  

Last night was the beginning of my retreat.  The previous night some physical symptoms prompted me to go off on a little "worry fest" about my health.  I watched how quickly this can just flare up, a little brush fire in the spiritual forest.  Poof and we've burned half an acre.  What's that all about I asked?  The wise little Dharma gnome inside me said that it was about fear.  As most humans I am attached to my life so thoughts of death frighten me.  "And why is that?"  I inquire of the gnome?  "It's the self that fears it's disappearance, that values itself as "a thing", more important than all else."  Otherwise we are just energy, passing through this world, learning, watching, experiencing, no big deal.  Also Ms Gnome pointed out that it was all a little mind game, generated by that trickster, monkey mind, that I was imagining a situation and it's outcome, running little badly filmed home movies in my head.  Sheesh, someone turn that projector off, list it under free stuff on Craigslist!  So that was the fear episode, not nearly as entertaining as reruns of Seinfield but there it was.

Next I was visited by sloth and torpor.  Is this starting to sound like the "Ghosts of Christmas Past"?   Sorry no pudding for  you.  My close buddies S&T, look like some large lumpy cartoon characters, lumbering, slow and somewhat depressed.   They are so not spa like or good company at all.  I turned up the heat (it was damp and chilly here last night), got out some books and my computer, had a nap, read some and kind of sat like a zombie for a bit.  Sloth and Torpor snuggled up close. Maybe I should do something, na.  And so the evening passed.  I was just getting by.  You know that feeling.  Now I want to qualify that it's good to be with what is, and I also want to say that savouring some down time is a good thing too.  But only I can look deeply at what I am doing and know who I'm snuggling down with.  Is it joy and appreciation or S&T?  Truth is the important issue here.  What am I up to?  

This morning as I looked back at my evening the movie became a little clearer.  My fear had sent me running to my companions of Sloth & Torpor, comfortable, habitual friends for me in such situations.  I was wallowing.  I knew it at the time and yet...... I accused myself of it, said some unpleasant things about it which of course made me feel loads better HA!  So fear>>>>spawned laziness which really was a form of depression.  (Are we setting up the dominoes again?)  And then I noticed the propensity to engage in some unpleasant self talk about it all, nothing kind or comforting here.  I wouldn't talk to a friend like this, so why is it okay to grumble at myself like this??  So I could see where the work needs to be done.  Seeing all this is the compassionate side of suffering. It is the suffering that leads to the end of suffering, as opposed to more suffering.   I add this in case it all sounds a bit grim to you.  Man this woman's a downer, I think I'll change the channel.

So it seemed the first order for today was a little right effort, "grasping the will" my teacher calls it.   Some qi gong, some meditation.  Sometimes it is really hard work to get yourself to these things when your inclination is to stay and hang out with S&T.  And as I sat in meditation it all became clearer.  I could see the need for compassion toward the little self.  often I am barking out orders and criticisms (and eek using the Dharma as the grounds for this)  saying ridiculous things like "Self, don't be so fear based, don't be so lazy."  If I were in charge here I'd just up and fire me as guardian and motivator of this little Dharma Life.  Go get a job at Malwart!

So that's the first retreat installment.  More to come I'm sure.  I am off to paint, paint, paint and hopefully it's not myself into a corner. 

Zen Vacation

I am thinking about stress.  It is on my mind for a couple of reasons: one I am watching myself getting ready for two upcoming art shows.  On the good days I can say everything will get done and I can work away patiently doing what needs to be done.  On other days I notice the impatience and sense of hurry that I impose on myself.  It is definitely good training to watch me and adjust my course when I am blown against the rocks of fretting and rushing.  

The other thing that got me thinking about stress was a spot on the TV news the other night.  I'm not a big TV news watcher but happened to see a piece where a tour company declared bankruptcy, leaving travelers stranded.  The mother of a young woman commented that her daughter had taken a holiday to Mexico to get away from stress and now the holiday was causing stress.  

It got me thinking.  It's the old story of looking outside of ourselves for the solution to our problems.  And there in her statement of the problem was the answer.  Studying the Dharma we learn that the  solutions to any problems aren't out there.  Don't get me wrong I am not saying bah, humbug, holidays are bad, stay in your cave and eat rice.  Sometimes a change of scenery can offer us the space we need to see more clearly.  And doing something fun and spending time in beautiful places is good for the soul.  But where are we coming from when we do that?  What is our intention?  I love the title of Jon Kabat-Zin's book "Wherever you go, there you are" which kind of sums it up for me.  If I go on vacation to "escape" my problems, to "escape"myself or my "situation" the fix is either temporary or illusive. 

Dealing with stress is about changing the landscape allright.  It does require some travel but we're talking about the internal landscape now, the hills and valleys of habitual tendencies, the patterns of behaviour that have carved the mountains and gullys of our stress.  To really deal with our stress we need to look at what causes it and how we respond to our perceived stressors.  Is it the boss, is it my financial situation, my too busy schedule, the noisy neighbours?  Whatever it is I need to look at it and evaluate.  The old AA  serenity prayer, "God give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the ones I can and the wisdom to know the difference."  That's a good starting place.  Is there action we need to take or reaction we need to desist from?  Are there things we just need to let go of?   I am reminded of the story of the man who is listing his troubles to the Zen master.  And the master just continues to say, "it isn't important," to each thing on the list.   How much of what stresses us is really important?  Now the tricky part here is to know that this doesn't stand against taking appropriate action when necessary.   We don't just say "it isn't important to everything as another form of escape.  Always after well considered contemplation and moving from that place in our heart, that says "this is good to do".  There are things in this world that are "good" to do.  They may be bringing up a difficult situation with a loved one, quitting a job, leaving a relationship.  You have all the answers somewhere inside you.

So by all means have a delightful vacation, now or in the summer or whenever, but don't mistake it as something that will alleviate "stress".   That work is best done from the inside out.  That will make your vacation even more joyful!    So take a vacation from stress by training in the Dharma, by reading some inspiring Dharma books, by sitting regularly in meditation, by contemplating the details of your life, by making changes in the small things you do that no longer work for you.  Start your holiday today.  Your life will thank you for it!    A bow and a bon voyage to you!

With A Little Help From My Friends

This little 6x6 is hot off the easel and just in time as I'm running out of art to post.  I am a slow creator and labour over things until I like them.  There is a matching half (another little 6x6) which I will post tomorrow that shows the other side of the Buddha!  Imagine that cutting the Buddha in half, eek!  The words on the painting (that look like they need a little touch up!) are attributed to the Buddha, via the Dhamapada, according to my google search!  It is a much longer poem (maybe I have to do a whole series of little paintings called the Dhamapada? to hold the entire piece because it is quite lovely)

I have to offer many bows to those who shared their personal wisdom with me after yesterday's writing about my mother.  I realize in many ways this is such an opportunity for both my mother and I to be differently in the world.  Today as impermanence would have it my mother actually sounded cheerful when I spoke with her on the phone.  Perhaps there is some relief in her deciding what she wants to do.

 She wanted to talk quite reasonably about her will.  And because my practice has shown me the value of contemplation (and I had engaged in some last night and this morning)  I could, without malice or judgement talk to her about some things she wanted to put in the will that were clearly aimed at people or that might create disharmony after her death.  I could ask her if that was what she wanted to leave behind (and given the opportunity to consider, she said no) and agreed that the bits of "stuff" were not important enough to leave behind hard feelings.

I could tell her that she needed to tell my brother and sister about her choice to discontinue meds.  She wasn't sure that she wanted to do that.  But I felt clear, given her normal modus operandi that this was important for her to do.  Not only would it be about her being clear with people, it would open up a window for heart to heart communication if my brother or sister wanted to go there.  I reminded her that they were her children and should be informed by her, just as I was.  She agreed to my surprise.  In the past my mother has used me (and I have allowed this) as a buffer between her and the world.  I am clear that I no longer wish to assume this role.  It creates hard feelings in the family, denies my mother the opportunity to connect with others, and places undue responsibility on me (which creates resentment in me).  I feel clear that my refusal to assume this long standing role helps both me and my mother.  If I make mistakes (life is always an ongoing experiment) I can adjust my course from my new vista in the landscape.  But a considered response from a non-reactive place is a good starting point.

So this is the Dharma of everyday life.  There it is all laid out before me: impermanence, contemplation, a little right understanding and right action, the fact that life is an experiment and that we are always adjusting our course.  And the fact that the joy and the suffering are always right there, intertwined in their yin & yang kind of way.  And the miracle is  that all this makes life rich and full, chunky and savoury, like some lovely hearty stew, instead of that thin watery broth that the TV and magazine adverts try to sell us. 

Getting Me to Move Over

Last night I was re-reading sections of Joko Beck's "Nothing Special" when something she said hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks.  In fact I woke up this morning still spitting shards of  brick.

Talking about practice Beck says, " ... the centre of our life is shifting from a preoccupation with ourselves to life itself.  Life includes us of course;  we haven't been eliminated, ...  But we're no longer the centre."

As I read this it made me think about my mother and the little tantrums (internal, thank goodness!) of anger  I have about her.  I felt this little shadow of shame creep over me.  There it was an instant flashbulb fuelled snapshot of ME square in the middle of the view finder.  It is me putting myself first with my wanting things to be my way that fuels this anger that rises up in me inconveniently, uncomfortably.   It felt like " a penny dropping" as my friend the monk likes to call it.  It wasn't just the of reading Beck's chapter called "The Talk No One Wants To Hear"  (which is about our comfort seeking and self centred behaviour).

I think it was combined with the fact that on Sunday I listened to part of the recording I made recently of my mother talking about her life as a child.  My brother was visiting and as we sat over the crumbs of our breakfast knishes and bagels, I played him a bit of the recording.  I could hear it as sadder and more heart wrenching, than I had when I first recorded it, perhaps it was filtering through his ears, reflecting in his eyes.   

This morning I woke up feeling just a little more mindful of the little things I say and do and the "me" focus of them.  I woke up feeling like I wanted to make the effort to be a little more patient and generous of spirit.  I could see the tiny twist of words I might normally fire out that denote impatience or judgement.  I could pause and resist the inclination to speak out of habit and hurry.  It was interesting to watch.  The spirit of generosity extended even to myself.  Instead of  reciting the list of a gazillion things I needed to do, I could say to me, "enjoy today, enjoy wrapping these paintings up to mail, enjoy adding a couple of treats to the package.  No need to run off in a thousand directions at once.  If one thing gets done well today, that's all that matters.

In the afternoon I spoke with a woman who is training to be a monk.  When I asked her how that was going for her, the response was interesting.  "Well, I'm learning to listen more."  And as she clarified what that meant for her, I heard her saying that what it really meant was being less "me" centred, learning to be open and hear what other people need and follow through on that.  Not from a self sacrificing place, not from a place of aren't I wonderful and giving, but from that place that Beck talks about of "shifting our preoccupation from ourselves to life itself."  A wonderful and freeing position, don't you think?

Zen Cleaning

This little collage reminds me of Spring.  I remember as a kid that a new skipping rope was one of the delights of Spring.  After a long Winnipeg winter you could take to the sidewalk with that cheery new length of blue or yellow plastic and skip ecstatically.

It must be Spring because (no I didn't get a new skipping rope!) today I had the urge to clean, not that let's get the dishes out of they way cleaning, but a sense that I wanted to go through the house and really clean.  Call me crazy but given the right mood I love to clean.  There is something satisfying in a cleaning job well done.  I love nothing better than to get rid of some collected winter clutter or to make something sparkle.

Where is the Dharma in this you ask?  I sense it is there, I know it is there.  Let's look.  For starters  it's about following what it feels good to do, today, right now in this moment.  Not what should I do or what can I do.  I  am talking about looking inside and sensing  what is it good to do, what wants to be done, sensing that urge to clean if it is there, learning to follow that inner sense.  This is a big part of the Dharma for me, being able to tune in to that inner sense of knowing, to actually hear that still small voice within.  Because where does the real Zen truth come from but deep inside.  So part of our training is on a daily basis to become familiar with getting in touch with what lies inside of us, that is living in harmony with the truth.  And it takes a lot of practice.  There are often a lot of competing voices vying for attention.  What a good proving ground , the small things of life, so that when bigger issues arise we are more acquainted with that inner voice. 

And cleaning away clutter is a very Zen idea to me, stripping things down to what is needed, doing away with the extraneous.  This is an important aspect of training.  As it is in the inner world, so it is in the outer world.  There is a symbolic aspect to this clearing, a ritual that reminds me of what we are aiming for inside, getting down to what really matters, the essence.  Strip away confusion, throw away that accumulation of papers.  Lessen our attachment by giving away a few things, some old clothes, perhaps something we cherish if we really want to loosen the grip of clinging.

And then there is the dusting and washing and cleaning.  Look in a Zen monastery, how things are clean and uncluttered , how cleaning and working is part of the daily training, done with mindful attention and loving care.  As well as an opportunity to train it is symbolic of what we aim to do on the inside.  The refining of life.  Each time we shine the light of our attention on a nook and cranny of the kitchen drawer or cupboard or the inside of the fridge we  finding something new that needs our attention.  So it is with our confusion, delusion or ideas that don't serve us well.  On all these fronts we can work with right effort to remove what clouds and obscures, whether it is a dusty piece of furniture exposed by the Spring sunshine or a thought or habitual pattern that we finally notice.

We can take pleasure and pride in our cleaning, getting satisfaction from the effort of our work and enjoying the fruits of our labour.  And we can move back and forth between the real and the symbolic, the inner and the outer, knowing they are all connected.  "When we pull on a single thread (in nature) we find it is connected to the rest of the world."  -John Muir.  And so it is with Sunday cleaning.  

Studio Dharma

I spent a long time in my studio today painting. So much of what I observe and learn there amongst the paints and canvas and bits of paper is transferable to the rest of my life.  

Here is what I learned  today sitting in the organized chaos, wearing an old sweater that could scare the cat:

1.  The longer I spend working, the more work I realize there is to do.  That's very Dharmaesque don't you think?  The more training we do, the more we see what needs to be done.  Like training, painting is endless.  We are only limited by the amount of canvas available to us.

2.  Sometimes less is more.  Oh what a Zen cliche, but even a cliche can be true!  Knowing when to stop, to leave well enough alone, to be quiet, is a valuable asset in creating a work of art or life, especially seeing as your life is your biggest work of art!  I've ruined many a painting by continuing when I should have stopped.  Where else have I done this in my life, I wonder.  eek I'm afraid to look!

3.  It is much nicer to just spend time with your canvas and paints and your family and friends (or anyone really) than to constantly be looking at them sideways and holding them up to the light.  Do I like this eye, no, maybe that line is too dark, what about that shade of blue.   Too much checking in, mind chatter and judgement is not really helpful to any process.  It's better, but oh so difficult, to just be there, open and listening, letting your response come from somewhere deep inside whether your holding a paint brush or looking someone in the eyes.

4.  A happy, playful, attitude of exploration is the best approach.  You have more fun and will probably end up somewhere more interesting, than the grim and bear it school of life.  Some of the best end results come from happy accidents, whatever it is you're up to.  Things take on a life of their own when you step out of your own way, sometimes with results you never even dreamed of.

5.  Patience, patience, patience.  Maybe that painting will look different in the morning, just like that problem I've been stewing over, or the phone call I need to return, or the email that needs responding to.  Sometimes waiting and sleeping on things(as long as they're not too lumpy) is a miraculous transformer.  And maybe in the morning I wake up knowing just the colour or brush stroke to add here, or maybe it comes to me in the shower.  And maybe I just need to spend some time staring at that canvas (don't do this to friends, it makes them very uncomfortable!)

That's what I know for now.  I learned it from a paint stained table, a yogurt tub full of dirty brushes and boxes of scrap paper.  What secrets are lying around your humble abode???  Come on, share a few....

Exploring the Mental Landscape

Okay I finally did it.  I was inspired  enough by my qi gong classmates and our teacher's constant reminder, that if you keep taking the pot off the burner the water is never going to boil.  Even though somewhere in the night, an hour went missing, I managed to find 2 one hour periods to sit in meditation.

In the morning I was thinking about Alice, a woman in our class who is always up front about her experience.  Yesterday she expressed a lot of frustration at not "feeling the chi" when she sits. She is feeling pretty disappointed by this, really wanting to experience it, and wondering in the end if she has any chi.  I could see some of myself in Alice and started to wonder what separates those classmates who are getting the "big chi buzz" and those of us who are asking where is this illusive chi hiding.

As I did my first sit this morning, it came to me.  Besides the hours of practice that the chi filled students have put in over the years, I could see three fundamental difference.  These differences seemed, to me, to all involve mental attitude, if we can call it that.  First those chi-key guys believe when they sit down that they are going to feel the chi.  Past experience leads them to feel this way.  They have no doubt that the chi is there and that they will feel it.  The rest of us aren't so sure.  We think thoughts like: maybe this won't work for me, maybe I'll never feel the chi, maybe I'm the exception.  Doubt in Buddhism is one of the five hindrances.

The other mental attitude that stands in our way is that feeling of frustration and impatience.  Where is that darn chi, it should be here by now.  I told it to pick me up at 5 o'clock and I'm still standing on the corner waiting.  Our frustration and impatience tightens our bodies, closes our minds and natters away in our ears.  Man it is a pesky companion!

And then there is desire, attachment (the good 'ol cause of suffering in Buddhist lingo).  We want to experience that feeling of chi.  We want, we want, we want.  We are so full of wanting there is no place for the chi to sit.  It's like the old comment that the Zen master makes about the archer in competition.  "His need to win prevents him from hitting his mark."

So these were my discoveries.   If I could just sit with some openness and presence and believe that the chi was already there in my lower dan tien that would be step number one.  Give up doubt.  Number two: let go of frustration. Don't waste  your energy checking in on the chi and then winding yourself up into a chi seeking pretzel because what you find doesn't meet your expectations.  And these expectations are linked to the wanting, the desire, the attachment that we taste so strongly that it obscures the flavour of anything else.  ....  So my work was to just sit and know that the chi was present (just like our Buddha nature) but that I am not quite skilled enough to feel it strongly, that it takes time and patience and tending and trust.  And so I relaxed and experimented and explored.  And interestingly by leaving the pot on the burner a little longer and adjusting my mental fedora which was slightly askew I seemed to have a more focused meditation and a greater sense of the growing chi.

It is so interesting to watch the impact our sometimes subtle (sometimes not so subtle) mental attitude has on how things play out for us.  Our minds are powerful little pieces of equipment.  It's too bad they don't come with a better operator's manual.  But knowing me I would never read the instructions until something went wrong!

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.

Zen Bean Counting

I've been thinking about "comparisons" today.  I watched as I worked myself into a bit of a funk a couple of days ago and it was all the result of comparing myself to others.  It's a no win game (worse than a lottery ticket) and one we play all the time.  It's unpleasant little fingers start in one place and reach out quietly into all sort of mischievous places.

The trouble started after I visited a few artists websites whose work I love, one in particular, Martha Marshall whose work I find to have a wonderful sense of spontaneity, life and joy.  I love her use of colour and form.  Then comes the thought.  I wish my paintings looked like that.  I wish my work had more of a sense of freedom and spontaneity  and blah, blah, blah.

Comparison seemed to be the order of the day.  A conversation with a senior Zen student left me feeling not very wise.  He was filled with compassion and understanding and wisdom in a quiet non judgmental way.  His stories were wonderful and he always seemed to know the right thing to say. And then came the thought.  I wish I were more like that, I wish I were more wise.  And then an internal feeling that was less than pleasant.  Just that felt sense of you know.... yukiness, you've been there.

And then I went off to my studio to paint.  So guess what?  How do you think that little painting session went?  If you guessed , less than stellar, you'd be taking home some money.  Nothing seemed to go right.  I didn't like anything I did and things seemed to lurch from bad to worse.  I could see the lack of confidence in the way I applied the paint, the tenuous strokes, the way I mucked it about, then wiped it off, applied it again and wiped it off again.  And then the light went as the afternoon burned itself out and it was time to clean up

What did I learn?  Well I learned that I've been here before, down this well trod road of self comparison.  I could see that there is nothing wrong in admiring another persons work or spiritual training, its what you do with it.  Do I use it to beat myself up or as a source of inspiration?  How would my painting afternoon have gone if these encounters would have made me feel invigorated and inspired?  

 But when I see something I love and start the mental bean counting I am in trouble.  If I assign the most beans to them I feel bad and my work (or day) responds accordingly.  If I win the pile of beans this time,  I feel the dry tickle of mean spiritedness and  lack of generosity stick in my throat.  So comparison is like a buttered crazy carpet, it heads downhill fast.  But we do it all the time, slip into it, like a comfortable old sweater.  It may be torn at the elbow, covered in pills but it is what we reach for.

And when I looked deeper and said "what's this all about?"  I could see it was just another manifestation of the human predicament of  "I am not good enough,"   one of the five hindrances in Buddhism, self doubt.  We all spend our time with this one if we're willing to be truthful with ourselves.  And what is the antidote?  Well I guess first it is to see with clear eyes what I'm getting up to and feel its destructive power. And then I think there are creative options. Maybe I can remind  myself that I could compose a different ending to the same story, or  I could just let go of the story altogether.  See the paintings, beautiful, hear  the Zen stories, wonderful, do my painting, wash the brushes.  

Swimming in Karma

Things seemed to point me in the direction of writing about karma today.  Both a chat I had with someone today and  a comment by Peter of the Monkey mind.  It's a big topic and one I approach with some trepidation.  So please, if you find me in way over my head, call the paramedics.  I'm going there anyway.  What's that about fools, you say? Picture me with one of those little plastic swim rings we wore as kids.  Mine has a little seahorse on it and I am going to have fun!

I have heard it said that no one fully understands karma, so I start the conversation with that in mind.  One of the definitions of  karma that I am familiar with, is that it simply means action. We take an action, we think a thought.  It has consequences. We may either feel the results of our action right away, later in this life time or in subsequent lives.  And some may not  share the belief in future or past lives.  (That's another conversation!)  

The karma that takes place in this life seems somewhat straight forward .  I say some angry words to my neighbour.  She says some back to me.  Instant karma.  (Tastes as bad as most instant things I've had.)  But then the karma gets more complex and harder to trace.  My neighbour now harbours a grudge against me.  She says something unpleasant about me to a new neighbour.  Now that person regards me with suspicion.  And so my single angry sentence has carried itself into the future having more unpleasant "karmic " consequences.  I feel bad now.  My experience of my neighbourhood feels a little less friendly and on and on, in ripples that I may not even see.

The comment about karma I made to Peter was in regard to his experience of his inner critic that seemed so strong.  My understanding was that he could see that he reacted strongly to a reasonably innocent comment by someone.   And yet there it was.... I always remember my Zen teacher saying, "when you have a reaction to something or someone that seems beyond logical explanation (it could be good or bad), it is probably karmic." .... In other words when something rouses us in this way , we have probably been dealing with this "issue" (or person) for more than this lifetime.  Hence it's industrial sized strength.  It's fairly accepted that we carry around things that we have been dealing with since we were children.  We can see the strength of that.  So it is an easy leap for me to make, to feel that those things that make me really crazy, come from even farther back than this lifetime.  While I have no logical proof of this, it feels true.  One of my irrational trigger points revolves around feeling left out.  Someone will do something that brings on this feeling or no one will do anything and the feeling will arise.   The same event might not even register on your radar but for me it create anguish.   I have a friend who, if you are the least bit late, begins to think you are not coming.  She knows it's irrational and yet there it is.  It's what comes up for her.  

I can't deny those strong feelings when they are stirred , nor can I explain them fully.  Sometimes they linger for days, like someone's unwanted cigarette smoke, clinging to my coat (quick, call in the karmic dry cleaner).  Somehow in the middle of the pain, I take solace in the fact that it is something old arising, that I have no control over.  I have also heard it said that you never know when old karma will come to greet you.

And with our willingness to just be with this karma, it is my understanding that something is happening.  It is discharging for lack of a better word, burning up like a flares in the oil patch.  We spend time with the pain and it passes.  We don't run off and create new karma by saying something unpleasant (although that's a possibility too!).  And it's not on our terms as to when the pain subsides.  Of course we do our part to let it go and not add to the suffering.  We don't drown or wallow but as Peter so wonderfully described we get on with life.  We do the next thing that needs to be done.

There are so many aspects of karma.  My partner and I were talking about the good karma that has allowed us to find and participate in a life of practice.  This is truly good fortune.  To have a human life, as the Dalai Lama points out in his poem, "This Precious Human Life,"  this too is good fortune.  .... an opportunity to study the Dharma and work with our karma.  (Please ignore the fact that this rhymes.  We are not going there. I may be guilty of many things but, No bad Zen poetry here.)

And finally just a comment from Uchiyama's book called "Opening the Hand of Thought" that I am reading these days.  He is talking about choice and how he chose in this life time to be a monk.  Even though it is my choice, he asks, where does that choice come from?  What makes one of us become a murderer,  another a human rights advocate, someone else a doctor.  Is that our karma playing itself out??  And our thoughts.  I always find this a scary one... that even what we think somehow gets accounted for in the karmic scheme of things.  Nothing is without consequence, which is the good news and the bad news all rolled into one!

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!  

Kindness and Connection

First a little house keeping ....  Someone mentioned to me today that they were unable to post a comment here and when I sniffed around my blogger site I found that the default settings were a bit off.  I have freshened them up and anyone can post now and comments are always welcome!

A couple of things are up on my radar today.  Yesterday an event of sheer delight came my way.  I received a surprise package in the mail.  It turned out to be the most lovely green merino wool cowl (is that some sort of farm animal making a bad noise, you ask?) knit for me by a good friend of my daughter.  I had been mooning over a similar item on Etsy during the Christmas holidays and not only had Sarah remembered but she had put her nimble fingers to work and created this beautiful  scarfy thing for me and mailed it out.  I was truly touched and delighted and like a small child I immediately put it on and wore it for the rest of the evening!  Kindness pure and simple such a wonderful human offering. The Dalai Lama often says, "my religion is kindness."

 

But how often do we take the time out of our busy day to actually go through all the steps to complete a simple act of kindness or generosity.  Sometimes I think of something I might do, imagine it fondly and then get busy and forget.  So I was reminded in a very first hand way what a wonderful aspect of human connection these little treats are, maybe it's just a long distance phone call to a friend, or a real card that goes in the mailbox, just a friendly word to a stranger that looks like they could use cheering up....  I was reminded to pass it on  ....  tag you're it.

When I called to tell Sarah how tickled I was, she commented on my blog and we got to talking about how we humans are so similar in many ways, how we all share  many of the same issues and insecurities (check out Peter's Monkeymind post "trouble in paradise"  to read a powerful piece on the inner critic we all share).  Suffering is universal yet somehow we think we have some individual license on it. We wander around feeling isolated and thinking everyone else looks pretty great and has it all together .... except us.  A teacher whose name I can't remember expressed it this way, "If you've seen one mango, you've seen them all."  We're really just a bunch of pretty crazy mangoes dealing with the same little fruit flies.

Coffee today with a new Dharma friend  ended with the same conclusion Sarah and I had come to, such an important tenet of Buddhist practice.  We are all connected.  It is so easy to forget and so helpful to remember.  Because we often don't talk about the deeper issues of life with friends and family we don't know that inside we all are in the same boat together working with the same stuff, (in slightly different contexts sometimes).... but there it is once we're willing to be brave and share.  It is such a joy and relief to share and connect.

How often do we really connect with other people?  How often do we take the time and muster the courage?  Are we willing to feel awkward and exposed?  Or is it easier, safer, and more comfortable  to stay in our crusty little shells?  My new Dharma friend and I could talk about how we hardly know our mothers or other family members, that in our culture we have never really learned and practiced how to connect with people at a heart level.  And so we feel lonely in a room full of relatives, and we feel lonely when we are by ourselves.  We could remind each other that really there is nothing more important than that feeling of connection and community, something that can seem so absent in this modern world.

So that's what I've been thinking about today, kindness and connection, both of which I feel blessed to have been the recipient of.

Playing With the Dharma

A couple of nights ago we saw a fabulous Tom Stoppard play called "The Real Thing" at the Belfry Theatre.  I can't say enough good things about it.  The actors were fabulous and the play was intelligent, witty and thought provoking.  It was about love but not just the frothy stuff that skims the top, but  the depth and complexity of romantic love, what it means to really love someone.  Not the "I'll love you if you're nice to me and do what I want" kind of love .... but the love that sees the beloved at it's worst and loves anyway.  A love that can embrace betrayal and forgiveness all at once.  .....that cares enough to stay, to have patience and faith, that perceives the truth and goodness in that other human that the beloved hardly sees themselves.  You felt somehow that Stoppard understood the nature of loving another deeply and had amazingly been able to convey it in all it's painful and joyful essence.  He got it.  You got it.

When it was over, my partner said he had read that it was somewhat autobiographical for Stoppard.    I said "that makes sense and that's just like the Dharma!"  You could feel that Stoppard understood the terrain intimately.  And likewise you don't really get the principles of the Dharma until you live them.  I not only know this for myself  but have heard so many practitioners say this.  As did the Buddha when he said "Don't believe me, make it true for yourself."  It seems to me as humans we need to experience things at some blood and bones level to really understand.  How do you know  impermanence, letting go, having faith, attachment ?  You can read about them and hear about them for years without ever really getting them and then one day..... it happens .... in your life and you understand,  ... ah now I get it.  

And in art, like the Dharma,  you can only write or paint or create with depth what you really understand.  Every writer's workshop starts out with the advice "write what you know".  This is where art and the Dharma intersect, at this heart level of experience and understanding.  In art we go on to try and express it and in the Dharma we may express it or simply reflect it back in how we live our lives.

The piece of art for today is called "Moonlighting Monks".  For me there is both a feeling of community and chaos in this mixed media piece.  There is a sense of samsara in the dimmed light but also a sense that we are  all  on this journey together.  Sometimes it's hard to remember that the person rubbing up against you in some way that feels annoying is your brother and just like you he wants to be happy.  But there is our work, walking together, under the moon, experiencing the mystery of it all.

What Is The Sound Of One Broom Sweeping?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Little Things We Do

In this 10x10 mixed media piece  the words "Even tiny drops of water will in time fill a huge vessel" form the ground that the bowl rests on.  These words are attributed to the Buddha and speak to our actions and thoughts, both positive and negative.  The painting incorporates lots of texture, some Asian script paper and stamped text with hot  and soft shades of magenta and some watery blacks.

In a way I am adding to the topic of "creating peace in our world"  that I wrote yesterday.  In that piece I talked about starting on the inside with our own internal state of peace.  But where does it go then?  A number of years ago I was surprised to read (I believe in was in Ezra Bayda's "Being Zen") that being in a hurry, being impatient was a form of aggression.  When I stopped to think about it it made perfect sense.  These things can be so subtle.  So creating enough time, eliminating some activities if necessary contributes toward making our world more peaceful.  For starters it is a kindness to ourselves, decreasing our stress levels.  And when you think about things such as feeling impatient in the long line at the grocery check-out, for example,  you can see the subtle self centredness to the impatience, the slight disregard for the needs of others, the cherishing of self above others.  And then there's the energy of our impatience that radiates out into the space.  How likely are we to strike up a pleasant conversation with the shopper in front of us or feel compassion for the person working the cash when we feel the irritation of impatience?  I remember the first time I noticed this in myself.  I was rushing to the check-out , grocery in hand.  The irony of it was, as I ungraciously raced someone for the next spot in line I was on my way to make lunch for my friend and teacher, a Buddhist monk and was worried about being late.  I felt both embarassed and amused when I realized what I had just done.  As my teacher commented, "at least you noticed."

And so peace begins in the grocery line, at the coffee shop, when we are driving.  Do we let that driver in who wants to make a lane change?  Do we ride the bumper of someone going too slow?  There are so many radical acts of peace that we can make during a day.  I know when I take my friend the Zen monk out on errands it is so instructive to watch how she interacts with people, engaging them on a personal level, asking their name.  It is amazing to watch people melt into this attention and love that is often missing in our modern world.  When the Dalai Lama stays in big hotels he often chats with the chamber maids and staff, engaging them on a personal level.  "My religion is kindness" he says.  "I am just a simple monk"  And so if we can remember this stance when we go out into the world we can become an emissary of peace, doing something that is possible for us to do in the here and now, difficult because sometimes we don't feel like it or remember.  So where can I do this today?  That is the question I will try to keep in mind as I go about the small tasks of my life.  So peace evolves not just one person at a time but one action at a time.

The Living Dharma

In this 16x20 mixed media piece the clothes were cut from little pieces of canvas and applied to the larger canvas.  Layers of  medium and grey and white paint were applied and then some charcoal was added.  I was intrigued by a challenge a local gallery owner gave asking artists to do a painting  using only blacks, whites and greys.  I found it so much fun I did a number of them.  The words on this painting say: "How great and wondrous are these clothes of enlightenment.  I vow to unfold the Buddha's teaching so that I may help all living things."  This quote is from a verse recited by monks as they put on their "kesa" (a part of their robes)  each morning.

This small recitation is a helpful reminder of why we are doing our practice.  If  we only accumulate knowledge  in our head we could be filled with it but  how will our everyday lives unfold?  We might be able to wax eloquently on the differences between Theravaden  Buddhism and Zen or recite the many lists of Zen (the 4 noble truths, the 5 skandas, the 3 marks of existence....someone once said to me Buddhism is a religion of lists!  I found this amusing.)  But if  our practice doesn't penetrate our lives what good is it?  

Zen is full of stories, wisely showing, rather than telling.  In one case a father is doing his meditation and his teenage daughter interrupts.  He shouts at her "can't you see I'm doing my loving kindness meditation?"  Pema Chodron, the American Buddhist nun tells a wonderful story of how she is sitting on a crowded bus weeping as she reads about loving kindness but then realizes that she is feeling annoyed by the jostling of the passenger, the real flesh and bones body, next to her.  So why are we studying or practicing Zen or any other spiritual tradition for that matter?  If it doesn't alter our actions, ultimately making us kinder and more compassionate what are we doing?  Are we putting in hours, days, months, years on the cushion and still the same angry person that started on the path?

One of the really important aspects of training I have found, is to be patient, to remember we are not going to change our deeply ingrained habits overnight.  It took a lifetime (perhaps many lifetimes) for these tendencies to take root.  To expect instant change is not realistic.  (If you're looking for instant you might just have to go to aisle 6 and pick up a jar of coffee, and you know what that stuff tastes like?)  You might have moments of insight (aha moments as they have come to be called) but really it is the ongoing work that carries us over the long haul.

I find I only really understand some tenet of practice by deeply experiencing it myself.  I can hear talks and read books on some aspect of practice but until it becomes real for me in my life I don't really get it.  My teacher and her teacher before her, talk about "understanding something in your blood and bones," understanding things in the deepest fiber of your being.

I have learned a lot through the relationship I have with my mother which could be described as a difficult dance.  It wasn't until I was in the middle of the gazillionth bout of anger, complaining to someone about something my mother had done, that I realized, it wasn't my mother that made me angry, it was ME that was making me angry.   It was my reaction to what my mother was doing that was the problem.  She didn't have any great power over me.  I was making myself crazy and it was only at that moment when as my teacher would say "the penny dropped".  I finally got it and found I could pause in the middle of some situation and make the choice to react or not.  Annoyance still arises but I can watch it arise and with varying levels of success choose to act compassionately.  The repeated experience of sitting on my cushion allows me to find the millisecond of space that's needed to pause and make that choice, to see my mother as trapped in her own little prison of unhappiness, to see that she is really doing the best she can.  And that allows compassion to arise, for the poor, tiny, stuck being in front of me and for myself.

So this is where I find the dharma, in the small instances of everyday life.  This is where I work, in the messy trenches of life.  And it fills my life with richness, finding the small gems of dharma amongst the dust bunnies of life.  And while I may not notice it on a daily basis I can look back and see a different me than the one who started out on this path 4 years ago.  The changes may be so small and subtle that no one notices but me.  It's like any exercise, the muscle builds slowly, yet in a real way as we use it.  There are many sayings in Buddhism that would make a fitting quote for this work of the heart that we are doing.  Going, going, going, always going beyond, always becoming Buddha" is really what we're doing, don't you think?"  So here's to your Buddha Nature.  I see it shining through, always there, waiting patiently for you to discover it.