We Are The Stories

studio shot

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

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

two on the wall

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

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

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

tracings

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

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

in progress

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

Spiritual Path As Heros Journey

Orange Buddha wandered into the studio the other day looking for a facial. "I've been hanging out in the hallway feeling a little dark, a little flat, perhaps a little too tentative. Maybe I need a little paint Dharma," he said. I invited him to hop up on the easel and we'd spend a little time together, exploring the possibilities. And here he is, post facial, feeling a little lighter, more defined, no botox required. We shared some fine time together and parted company both in good spirits.

I have been reading a book by Lama Surya Das called "Letting Go of the Person You Used To Be". Does that sound too "self-helpy"? I am always drawn to Dharma books that offer specific ideas for working with your life and this is one of them. It is true that we are fine just the way we are but we could all do a little better. That's what I like about Buddhist thought, these 2 seeming contradictions don't stand against each other. I thought I'd share some tidbits from the book that seemed helpful and uplifting in contemplating daily life.

In a chapter called "You Are The Hero of Your Own Life," he says: "Walking the spiritual path is inevitably an heroic journey. ... Sometimes just getting out of bed in the morning and stumbling to the shower, requires a heros spirit. Trying to live a meaningful life requires a brave heart. Whenever we try to act in ways that correspond with our deepest beliefs and values, we will, by definition, face major challenges. ... How are we being called, and are we heeding our deeper call? In what ways are we being deceptive or truthful? How are we being brave or cowardly? As seekers we are climbing huge mountains, but we are climbing them step by step. ... We can rescue our heroic higher Self from our conflict-ridden and ego-driven self concepts. We can save ourselves from preoccupation, narcissism, indolence, hedonism and love of comfort."

Right now rain is lashing in, riding sideways on the wind from the south, from the ocean, just down the street. Winter in the Pacific Northwest: no snow, no below zero temperatures, just lots of grey and white sky, wetness and wind. Bone chilling, drenches you in minutes. Can you hear my comfort seeking behaviour! Perhaps I should try out the storm lovers stance? I have seen them out there, facing into the wind driven water, hanging out with the cleansing sea breezes and the powerful pounding waves. Where will your heros journey take you today?

Day 100 - A Ferry Ride With The Buddha

Well  this is it the 100th day of Dharma. How did that happen?  That might be my cue to talk about impermanence but I don't think I will.  A hundred days can pass and we hardly remember what happened between then and now, such is the fleeting nature of life. I love this quote attributed to the Buddha, "This life of separateness may be compared to a dream, a phantasm, a bubble, a shadow, a drop of dew, a flash of lightning."  So how important are all those little things that go on in between then and now.  I'm thinking about the things we fret about; mostly gone without a trace.  That's instructive for how to live our lives, don't you think?

But that's not really what I want to talk about right now.  My bedtime reading has been the Dhammapada for the last little while (I'm still on the intro!).  Last night I was reading about "Turning the Wheel of the Dharma" and it felt like it had some significance in terms of my 100 Days of Dharma.  That's what we're doing here aren't we, turning the wheel of the Dharma, thinking about our lives in terms of the Dharma, considering the teachings of the Buddha and then adjusting our daily course according to what we find and what it seems good to do.

After his enlightenment when the Buddha was questioned about who he was he answered "I am awake" (budh, from the sanskrit root, to wake up).  When he started teaching he said:  "I have found the deathless, the unconditioned: I have seen life as it is."  And really isn't that what we're aiming for, the truth, the end of suffering when we practice.  To see our lives like the movies or dramas they are and watch them, unattached, with joy and amusement and sometimes with a great big hanky.  That is the aim I think, to be passionately involved in life and at the same time know that it's all okay.  Haven't we simply been inspired by figures like the Buddha to believe that it is possible to attain this state.  They say that he was pictured as a ferryman asking the question, "Anyone for the other shore?"  Man I'm interested in one of those tickets! 

And what's the fare?  Well it's not cheap.  And the seats?  Best in the house.  The meditation cushion.  Such an important thing to remember, that the key to practice, to attainment is sitting, the foundation of all our work with the Dharma.  How did the Buddha attain Nirvana, not from talking or reading, or wandering, or thinking but through disciplined  sitting.  He sat through all the assaults of Mara, through desire and doubt.  Without the sitting we won't make much progress and even with the sitting it is a lifetime process.  So I am thinking about the important things today and sitting is one of them.  And I think part of why I decided to write 100 Days of Dharma is for the discipline, which is the same as getting to the cushion, doing what needs to be done, over and over and over.  Building that muscle to do it whether we feel like it or not, whether we are tired, or depressed, or grumpy, or sick, or ecstatically joyful, or filled with unrest.

And why do we study the Dharma?  Why do I sit?  Well I think we always start with the wish to free ourselves from suffering.  And as time goes on, whether consciously or unconsciously we are adding to the compassion in the world, we are sending off little threads of wisdom and compassion without even knowing it, kind of like little human prayer flags.  We contribute to the world in a positive way.  Just by looking at what we do and making choices, active informed choices about how to live our lives.  And perhaps as time goes on our presence becomes a little calmer, more grounded and just our energy contributes in a positive way to the world.  This is what we are doing I think, one person at a time, one day at a time, one breath at a time.

So while 100 Days of Dharma have passed, I will continue to write about life and the Dharma as things come up that seem important to me.  It has been interesting to see that I was never really stumped for a topic, that something always presented itself, though I often wondered if it would.  Maybe I'd run dry like an old well and just cough and choke and sputter out some letters of the alphabet and embarrass myself in public (maybe I have and I am too dense to notice!)  So it has been a real privilege to share a 100 Days of Dharma with you and I expect we will continue to visit as we all have purchased a lifetime ticket to the other shore.  May your journey be a good one, filled with joy and sorrow and passion and gusto.

Bows to you all.

Painting The Buddha

This Buddha is part of a large piece (30x40") which has 3 Buddhas in it and is probably the largest piece I've done.  The piece starts with squares of colour and pattern, an abstract painting really, and then the outline of three Buddhas rest on the background.  It took a long time to complete with lots of staring at it and reworking and leaving it rest for periods of time.  At one point the colour was completely different and the Buddhas were simple coloured silhouettes.  It was in fact a totally different painting.  But it wasn't quite right.  It was flat and tentative.  In the end I am happy with the piece.  It is alway a feeling rather than any sense of logic that dictates what it is good to do next and when a piece is actually done.   My work in the studio teaches me a lot about how to live the rest of my life.  I learn about patience and perseverance and riding out difficult emotions. 

It's a bit of a puzzle sometimes in deciding what to do with a piece, like the experiment of life.  I often know something doesn't work but can't quite figure out then and there how to make it work.  It can feel frustrating, accompanied by the sense that maybe this time I might just have to chuck it in the end.  But somehow, if I pay attention and keep going  it always seems to come out the other end.  I like some end results better than others, but mostly  things are reworked until I have that sense of completion and a sense that they are as they should be.  It makes for a long process sometimes.  There are days when I am on a roll and things go well and there are days when nothing seems to work, things get glued on upside down and all the paint needs to be wiped off and reworked the following day!  I have learned to just be with the days that don't work, for the most part.  There are days when things move so slowly that my feet seem stuck in molasses.  I have learned that I am mostly slow and meticulous and my process is long and windy for the most part.  

Today it was dark and rainy and I wasn't feeling very motivated.  There was an unidentified darkness hanging around.  I didn't like the look of what I was working on and really didn't want to get started.  But I finally did anyway.  I suspended judgement and just worked, quietly and attentively.  And surprisingly by the end of the painting day I was pleased with what had emerged.  It was so interesting to watch the resistance.  Lunch took a long time, then I looked at a magazine.  I knew I was working in an "uninspired" sort of space but still I persevered and as the Dharma would have it, this feeling, this state passed and I felt the strength and energy of not giving in to my old friends "sloth and torpor"  

There is so much Dharma in anything we do, in the process, how we work, how we approach our work, how we use our minds, and the emotions that rise and fall, like tiny gusts of wind or huge tropical storms of angst and pain.  Just energy passing through really.  But there we are liking the energy that feels "good" and labeling as "undesirable" the darker energy.  In the end if we can suspend judgement it is all just energy.  From my painting I learn to just stick with it and not judge.  I get to see how I never really know where I'm going or how things will turn out.  It is not necessarily dependent on my state of mind or feelings at the beginning of the task.  I may start out feeling a little low and have a great studio day and vice versa.  It reminds me that my job is just to do what has to be done,  and not trouble myself with the rest, with thinking about or anticipating the results.

I am reminded of my friends comment, that as she looks for a job and a place to live, she moves between hope and fear, back and forth.  But it doesn't really matter.  If we can manage to stay detached from these states and not believe the little stories that swirl in our hearts and minds then it is all okay.  If we can remember not to prefer hope over fear, we are truly enlightened.  That is our work really.  And as my teacher would say, it is all good.