"The Eye As The Lens Of The Heart"

Last week as I nursed a fat ankle caused by some Samurai gardening,  I pulled out my copy of  "The Zen of Seeing" by Frederick Franck.  It doesn't get any better in my mind than when art and Dharma get mixed together, or should I say merged, because Franck joins the two in such a seamless way that you'd wonder why we ever thought they were two separate things.

His work always makes me think if you weren't inclined to draw but loved the Dharma, Franck could convince you that you must get your pencil out.  And if you love drawing, it is not much of a stretch to nod in agreement as  Franck turns it all into a spiritual experience.

I particularly like how he views Zen (or you can extrapolate his point of view to any spiritual practice, I think).  Listen to him: " This eye is the lens of the heart open to the world, My hand follows its seeing..... There is no split between a man's being, his art and what one might call his "religion" unless there is a split in the man"

And because he calls his book "The Zen of Seeing" Franck feels the need to clarify this thing he calls "Zen".  He starts by offering us a quote from, Dogen, the 13th century Sage who is regarded as the father of Soto Zen: "Whosoever speaks of Zen as if it were a Buddhist sect or school of thought is a devil."  hmmm..

Franck goes on to ask, "What is Zen?"

Here's his answer.
Zen is: being in touch with the inner workings of life.
Zen is: life that knows it is living.
Zen is: this moment speaking as time and as eternity
Zen is seeing into the nature of things, inside and outside of myself.
Zen is: when all living things of the Earth open their eyes wide and look me in the eye....

He goes on to talk about how this experiential approach to reality has been repressed, especially in the west, but that mystics and artists have always been in touch with it.

Oh, and by the way if the advertising world has convinced you in any way that Zen is a kind of soap, a perfume, a pair of jeans, an energy drink, or a style of baby furniture made by Fisher Price, you might want to reconsider that.

Looking back, Walking Forward

I have a little New Year's Eve ritual. I like to spend some time looking back on the old year, taking a broad sweeping look, like I'm flying overhead looking down at the landscape. And some years there are more clouds than others obscuring the view. I see quite a few stars this evening.

A lot happened in 2009. As the result of a "health opportunity" that generally goes by the name of cancer in late 2007, I realized in 2008 that, "news flash: I was mortal". It was time to wake up and do what I really wanted to do, instead of thinking about it, writing about it, imagining it, or being afraid of it. The penny finally dropped that I should get on with life, in a get out there and do things sort of way. Some of that self absorbed, self consciousness and fear dissolved with the surgeon's stitches. So 2009 was the year when I decided to get up everyday (well not everyday, but you know what I mean) and create some art. I needed to show and display my art and meet other artists. I needed to take risks and get uncomfortable. 2009 was the year I looked in the mirror and said who cares if I look stupid. Vanity and vulnerability travel in the same make-up bag.

It was also a year I did a lot of deep spiritual housekeeping. I worked earnestly and made peace and forged a heart connection with my 94 year old mother. I gave up blaming her and grumbling about her and said the hard things to her that needed to be said to move forward. To her credit she was open and ready for the healing to take place and our last months together were warmed by feelings of deep connection. I think the wanting and needing something from each other somehow dissolved. We had deep conversations about her impending death and it was the most peaceful experience I have ever had, to sit with her as she died on August 29th.

We finally decided to sell our house and move from the city to a smaller island than we live on now. We worked hard to get the house ready and put it up for sale. It was a spiritual experience to travel the road of big monetary transaction with integrity. But we negotiated it in a way that felt good and on Dec 16th we signed the final inky flourishes to the sale documents. House sold, time to move on. I have to say Mara made a big visit the night after we signed those papers. Every fear I've had about my health came to visit. Doubt and terror are not at all fun to share the pillow with. It felt pretty clear that the only way out was through the little burning, toxic pit. I found the where-with-all to sit with it and consider my options. Fear was feasting on speculation. Instead of pulling the covers over my head I worked to get a felt sense of what it would be like to throw the deal, stay put and be safe. Mara left empty handed.

I gained more confidence in my art this year by devoting more time and attention to it. "What we feed, grows stronger." I learned a little bit about hitting my stride. I learned not to throw myself into fits of despair when things didn't go my way ( a long standing habitual tendency of mine).

And so 2009 has been a time of great learning and looking forward. Things didn't always go my way but I learned to work with that. I worked to resist collapsing into a little heap of "I can'tness" at the first sign of trouble. Oh maybe a few times but who's counting? I worked with my tendency to obsess over things when they didn't go my way. This is such a strong, alluring tendency for me, one of those things I know in my head to be unwholesome but man, it can grab hold of me and take me on a big old chase.

And the Dharma has remained central and strong in my life. I didn't find a Sangha to sit with in 2009 but maintained my own practice and am connected to a number of "Buddhist" friends and my monk friend.

As I look forward to the new year I have new plans to address some health and stamina issues so that I might do more out in the world. We will move to Salt Spring Island in March after living in our wonderful urban home for the last 13 years. And of course based on impermanence and the fact that we are not in control of the big picture I can look forward to the adventures of another year. As my Zen teacher always says "we do our part and the eternal (or whatever you like to call it) looks after the rest."

May you experience happiness and health and the fruits of your good training in 2010. May we be good company to each other as we walk this path together. Bows to you.

The Four Immeasurables - Holiday Baking Without Cups

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being With The Body

This is a picture of the Mandala of Chenrezig or the Buddha of Com- passion, the day before it's completion, last Saturday. It is apparently the largest sand mandala ever done here in North America. It's hard to see in this photo but it was luminous under the gallery lights, bursting with detail and complexity. An amazing piece of art, taking 3 weeks to create with several monks working from 10-4 each day. (And never a crib note in sight!) It will remain on display at the AGGV until Dec 5th when a ceremony will be performed and it will be swept into the sea.

I have had lots of time for contemplation today as I lazed about after having an infected tooth extracted. The young dentist who performed the extraction looked more like he should be getting on a school bus and as he sunk in the needle he talked to his assistant about Archie and Veronica getting married. When I could speak without biting him, I commented that it seemed more like Archie and Veronica should be moving into a Senior's Home. In truth this chit chat was an exhibit of compassion, of his kind wish to put me at ease, to amuse, too uplift my spirits, to offer us all an opportunity to lighten up. He was willing to do that when in truth he could have worked away in silence.

The Tricycle Daily Dharma was about "Pain" today so it couldn't have been more apropos for me. It was a helpful reminder to just be with the pain, rather than reject it. As I sat waiting for the procedure and feeling a bit antsy and nervous I imagined the comfort that people who believe in a "God" get from thinking, "God will take care of me." And then I reminded myself of the Buddhist version of that, something my Zen teacher has said, "the Buddhas are always raining down help." It's about faith, really. And that quelled the panic somehow, the urge to get up and run out of the office. And the procedure was fine and as I laughed with the Dental Assistant afterward, it is the anticipation of most things that is the worst. You know the old Mark Twain saying, "I have had many terrible experiences in my life, some of which have actually happened."

What I did really become aware of today is the subtle, almost imperceptible way I hold myself against pain, against ideas that I don't want, against unpleasant scenarios that seem to play in my head. By having time to lie very still, I could watch how certain thoughts produced instant tension in my body. I could go from a little twinge in a tooth, to an unpleasant thought about what that might indicate, to a titanic version of a dental disaster, all in a flash. And I could feel the tension it produced in the body. And the light went on (and this time there was somebody home) that I spend most of my time with my body in this state of subtle tension. I experienced how soothing it was for the body to completely relax, to not be on guard against anything. I am not a hunter-gatherer roaming the Savannahs, yet that on-guard, ready for danger feeling, seems to rest (or should I say un-rest) just below the surface of every waking moment.

And though I am so far from Christian that I might be considered "Christianaphobic", an oddly Christian sounding phrase popped into my mind as I lay there quietly, enjoying total relaxation. "Thy will be done". Hmmm, where did that come from, I wondered? The Zen group I used to belong had some terminology that seemed uncomfortably "Christian" to me and I suspect I heard this phrase from a certain Abbot. And what it was really saying to me as I lay there was "why don't you just relax, you're not in charge here. This is not your show, your restaurant .... you don't need to direct the waiters and the cooks and the dish pit. Just know that things are somehow being looked after and you don't need to worry about them. Just experience them as they arrive." To continue with the restaurant analogy, taste what comes to you, drink deeply, don't be greedy for certain tastes and reject others. Somewhere the meal that is right for your karmic plate is getting cooked up (ingredients get adjusted along the way). Bon appetit! Okay I just have to throw in a one liner. I can't resist. It seems vaguely related. A good friend of mine has a signature on his email that I love. "At the feast of the ego, everyone leaves hungry."

Is That So?

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

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

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

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

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

Fire Puja & The Afflictive Emotions

Yesterday the art gallery monks did a fire puja. A monk from a local temple explained that it was a ceremony to purify our afflictive emotions such as greed, hate and delusion. In the ceremony we burn up these difficult emotions and they are carried away on the smoke. We each got a pinch of barley flour to throw into the air and imagine the release of these troubling emotions.

It was a beautiful warm day with no wind and no rain, amazing in that the previous day saw 50 ish mm of rain fall here. A small fire was built and while the monks chanted, a helper added juniper branches and incense and barley flour to create a thick opaque smoke that wafted politely upward without smothering onlookers.

Our weekend was mostly filled with peaceful, mindful activities with kindred spirits. Qi gong, a potluck with some Buddhist friends where we watched a documentary on Bhutan made by a woman from Quebec. The film was about Bhutan's (GNH) Gross National Happiness Project, a purposeful program where the government takes happiness in to account when making decisions as opposed to using the GNP that fuels the Western world. Inspiring little film about a mostly inspiring little country. And on Sunday we wrapped up the weekend with a little tai chi and the fire puja, washed down with a little latte at the Mocha House and a stroll through the "Dick & Jane" like streets of Fairfield.

Now goodness knows we needed that fire puja because this morning our real estate deal began it's unravelling and the afflictive emotions made a debut appearance. I got to watch a little brush fire of anger explode in the outback, or is that out in the inback? One minute you're walking along in the sunshine, then someone does something that seems "unethical" and you've got your own little fire ceremony going on. And there's nothing purifying about it. It has to do with pushing the boundaries of contracts, wanting more, not being available and twists and turns that make you wonder if the person you're dancing with isn't trying to break your foot.

And there you are left with it sitting in your lap. So where is the Dharma in it all, you ask after you've had a little rant, vented a little spleen. You listen to your own righteous indignation. And if I know anything, I know not to make any decision when I'm mad. So we give it a few hours and cool, to get some perspective, some distance, some sanity from the crazy making. It never ceases to amaze how quickly the story starts to spin, how quick a neutral face can become a demon. And so much mind chatter. But between my partner and I we manage to talk each other off the ledge a few times.

The truth is someone is behaving badly. We could let the contract expire, we could walk away. We have to choose a response. I see the inclination for payback and decide that Payback is not a destination we care to buy a ticket to. But in truth a large seed of doubt has been planted that this person will complete the transaction in good faith. I can ask myself "what do I know for sure?" And it's not that much. Lot's of assumptions, some uncomfortable signs in hindsight and our inclination to accommodate rather than take a hard line.

So we've had an opportunity to watch our afflictive emotions (apparently they were not completely purified at the puja!). We've hung out with doubt; doubt about the deal, about our actions. And I wished I had more equanimity to just ride it through, to shrug and not care. But there it is. Life with all it's warts. It's not a big deal really. No one will die or get injured. And we got to see how easy it is to get all stirred up. We can see where our work is. We can see how difficult it is to not take offense. Can we bear insult (real or imagined) with equanimity? We can see how not being attached to the outcome of things is truly freedom. We get to see as our qi gong teacher points out, that we should sit more each day, that there is always time, no matter how busy you are. I can see how this does build equanimity, how as Pema Chodron puts it, makes you a bigger container.

And we thank the real estate demons for the teaching! with bows to the mls.

Painting Your Life

I've been promising a new painting. So finally here it is. It is new territory for me in lots of ways. Stepping out into the unknown is always a good thing in the creative process. It shakes things up. And if you're lucky you might even be pleased with the results. But as my Zen teacher has said to me about life choices, just because you don't get the results you want, doesn't mean you did the wrong thing. You decide in your heart what you want to do and are guided by those well thought out intentions. The results are simply that, results, not a measuring stick that we beat ourselves up with.

It is my experience that many of the same rules apply to life that apply to painting. Playing it safe is easy. But eventually that gets boring, the process and the end product. It's easy to end up stifled and trapped in the same old pattern, without even being aware of it. And then maybe a light goes on. Or maybe as in this case, some comments, observations and suggestions led me to a try something new. Not to say repetition is bad. As in practice you often need to repeat things to refine them. But that doesn't negate exploring new territory.

And sometimes you paint something awful. That's life. Crappy stuff happens and eek there it is on canvas! Maybe we have the luxury of tossing it before anyone sees it or painting over it. But we need to have the courage to go to the kingdom of squirm and wriggle, to keep company with our discomfort. I read somewhere recently that a real measure of our practice is can we bear insult or feeling humiliated with some measure of grace or equanimity. Maybe that is the purpose of our bad art? To help us learn how to do this?

In the same way that we need to remind ourselves that we are not our thoughts, I think we need to remind ourselves that we are not our art. It has arrived in the world through us, it is not us. If I can understand this at a deep level I am truly free to create. I don't need to judge and be self conscious and measure and weigh what I create. Will people like this? Will they think I'm a talentless lout? Will they laugh behind my back? Ah the insecurities of the little self. But if we don't identify too strongly with what we create, if we're not too attached to it, it's not a problem. We can look at our work in a more objective way. We are freer to edit, modify, and learn from what we've done. If not we simply feel defensive and protective of ourselves and our work.

So while this painting is not wildly different it is a departure. If I am honest I will admit I feel a bit naked about the primitive quality of this painting. Maybe it will evolve into a new, personal style or maybe it's a dead end? Who knows. Time will tell. Instead of painting the usual painted, hand stamped squares I have collaged the entire canvas with different papers and then added paint. Green Tara is a new subject and I have added her mantra in various places. Can you see it? It's kind of like the "Where's Waldo?" of Buddhist painting. I often go back to a painting later and modify what I initially think is finished. So who knows what it will look like the next time you see it? I find that time gives more space and distance, a better position to edit from. So these are the places where art and life and practice intersect for me. Really we are all our own works of art any way. We just tend not to see ourselves that way. Are you a painting or a song or perhaps a novel?

Blog Action Day - Climate Change of the Inner Sort

I like a good metaphor. And if given the choice between facts and figures and a metaphor, I'd pick the metaphor every time. I might even pick a bad metaphor, you can be the judge of that. Rev Danny Fisher's morning post alerted me that it was Blog Action Day and the topic up for massive global chewing was climate change. I knew I wanted to join the tribe but I also knew I'd go narcoleptic and hit the zzzzzzzz key if I had to get all scientific about climate change.

So what might I contribute to the conversation on climate change, I wondered? Because I'm a big believer that you change the world one mind at a time, that change starts at a personal level, I started to wonder about our internal climate and the changes we could make there. It is true that some people like Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. affect huge numbers of people. But most of us, how are we likely to affect the climate of our planet? On a more personal scale, I suspect.

So what's your internal climate like? Is it filled with the heat of anger? Or do you feel the cold arctic winds of separation blowing all around you, keeping you from feeling connected to even those close to you? Perhaps the icy chill of judgement dusts you with a cool layer of frost ? And where does impatience register on the thermometer? Is it a close relative of anger, perhaps a few degrees cooler? Intolerance, hatred -- now those are the territory of wild fires scorching the internal and external landscape. The fallout is mostly devasting. Check the evening news. What's the climate there?

So while it's good to do our bit to turn lights off, drive less, consume less, buy local organic food; to shrink our ecological foot print, maybe it's good to do an internal audit as we go about our day. Sometimes the fallout on the environment comes not so much from what you do, but how you do it. If we shout at our kids to turn the lights off or insist that someone who is coughing on the bus should get off (this happened in Victoria) what climate have we contributed to? We may have contributed to climate change on some level, but is it what we were aiming for? Sometimes we forget that how we get somewhere is as important as where we get to. Have you met activists for good causes that were so strident that they turned you off, that they did a disservice to their cause? Did you empower someone today or make someone feel small? What were the ripple effects of some small action you took? Did it radiate warmth and caring that was passed on? Or when you cut someone off in traffic, did they go home and kick the cat?

So when we check the weather in the morning, maybe we don't need to turn on the weather channel or look out the window? Maybe we only need to look into our own heart to find the internal climate that we operate from. Now this is not to say we will always get it right. It's true Virginia, that floods and tornados happen, even in the inner landscape, maybe especially in that deep inner weather zone. News flash! We're human, kids, and we make lots of mistakes. But I believe it's about intention. It's about awareness. It's about working toward internal climate change that counts. So the good news is we are in control here, we can make a difference. We are omnipotent in the internal weather department.

So for me the internal climate change I'm working with these days is compassion. I'm working toward an internal warming trend. I'm thinking that the warmth of compassion will melt away those barriers and blocks and ice floes of the heart. Really we are all swimming in the same sea of tears. Compassion creates a climate where the needs of others become as important as our own.

And the cooling trend magically happens when we can see the suffering of someone that has caused our anger to rise. Maybe someone speaks rudely to you because you're not wearing your bike helmet. Later you find out that their son was killed in a bike accident while not wearing a helmet. Instantly your heart melts and you get it. Maybe you just get tired of feeling the heat of anger one day and resolve to move toward a cooler state.

So there it is, the challenge to change the inner climate. We can work on it everyday without leaving home, without buying anything, without saying a word to anyone. We can make this world a more temperate place by warming up the frosty bits and cooling down those hot spots. We can work toward a planet that does not blow itself up or self destruct from it's own rage and hatred and greed, one feeling at a time. No accords necessary, no signatures required, only an open heart and willing mind. May the winds of change blow warmly on you.

What is Your Mind Drinking?

Well this is not the Green Tara as promised but it is green. It's an oldy (from the summer) that I realized I hadn't photographed. It has a high gloss resin finish that gives it a kind of glistening sheen that is quite pleasing. A little recycled prayer flags, some hand stamping combined with a little acrylic paint and some image transfer. The colours remind me of kool-aid or freshie, if anyone remembers that kool-aid tag along.

Today I have been working with patience, trust and surrender. I won't say too much but it has to do with real-estate goings-on. Who said "the doubting mind is hell". Seems like a quote I've heard. And in it's effort to grab onto something, you can watch the mind reach for a tumbler of single malt doubt. Strong, enticing stuff, doesn't take much to get you going. Somehow the mind prefers known intoxicants to standing on the edge of nothing, staring into the abyss of wait and see. It's not a bad abyss, it's just we're so unfamiliar with that whole experience that we don't really know how to balance there on the edge. The edge makes us nervous and twitchy.

The other thing I have been watching the mind do, is go over the details and the facts, combing them for some type of certainty, hoping to pull up some gleaming shard of reassurance that everything is just fine. But in truth we are standing on the edge. And that is fine. It's good to learn how to balance on one foot, not waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So as I go about my day I get to see how important it is to be aware of the little tricks my mind likes to play, the stories it likes to conjure, kind of like a tempestuous 10 year old that likes to tell stories that scare all the small children in the lunchroom. I can cast a stern eye on it and tell it to stop or I can simply give a little grin and remind it that I see what it's up to.

So there's kool-aid and stories even though summer's over. Maybe it's time to put them away and bring out the candy apples and pumpkins and get ready for the Hungry Ghosts.

Choosing Our Thoughts

If you are reader of Buddhadharma Magazine perhaps you have noticed this piece of artwork (or not!). It's one of my paintings but as an observant fellow blogger noted it had no credits. Problem rectified. Buddhadharma will kindly include the credits in their next issue.

Enough ego fluffing. This morning after I did my meditation the thought popped into my head, "if I'm energy having a human experience, why don't I make it a more balanced experience? I have a choice of where I turn my mind, don't I? Do I always need to head straight to supermarket of life aisle that stocks mainly suffering? Why don't I turn down the aisle filled with grateful, generous, & upbeat a little more often?"

Just a little reminder that I do have a choice. A reminder that the old habitual tendencies need a little attention sometimes, a little dusting, perhaps some serious scrubbing, maybe a little carpentry? Perhaps this thought was prompted by seeing a clip on BBC World News that it was the 4oth anniversary of Monty Python's Flying Circus. One of the clips showed Eric Idol nailed to a cross singing "Always Look On The Bright Side of Life". Nothing like a little craziness to get you to sit up and pay attention.

It's always an interesting question for me because suffering exists. Denial is more appropriately a river in Africa than something applied to our life situation. Suffering allows us to see what we do and change, if that's appropriate. And sometimes suffering just is (the first noble truth), no action required. There is a compassionate side of suffering as the Buddha pointed out. It is the suffering that leads to the end of suffering. Not to be confused with the suffering that leads to more suffering. Same product, different aisles. The second one definitely requires the clean-up in aisle 7 announcement.

But I find it so important to remember (in fact I forget this a lot) that the whole picture contains a lot of variation. Life is rich and full of many moments of wonder and joy and sheer delight (not to mention a few moments of equanimity). We can be prone (read that as I can be) to forget this, to not notice, and wrap the whole parcel up tightly with strands of suffering. The little tinselly, shiny bits of joy get buried. Simple choices of language can make a difference. In a course called "Awakening Joy" someone once suggested that the simple change of words from "I have to" to "I get to" made a big difference in her day. She replaced "I have to go the the grocery store" to "I get to go to the grocery store". Small children in their innocent wisdom often embrace daily tasks with that kind of gusto for life, a gusto that feeds our energy instead of depleting it.

And while some thoughts just arrive, fully formed in our pointy little heads, we do have the choice of whether we entertain them or set them loose. We can question, let go or redirect our thoughts. We can turn them upside down and inside out. We can plant new ones and have a whole new nursery of little thought seedlings. We are the head gardeners in our strange little minds (ridiculous pun intended).

So that's it for the shopping trip and gardening project today kids, we're clipping the "choice coupon" when it comes to thinking and we're getting coconut ice cream, not cod liver oil. When we're done we'll have a big bowlful while we watch those seeds of contentment sprout.

Generosity, Friends & Right Speech

In what seems like a former lifetime I made and sold handmade cards. As I finished up some things surrounding my mother's death I decided to give cards of thanks to the ladies my mother sat with in the dining room at the assisted living building where she lived. When I went to check my tray for cards I found the perfect ones. There were three cards that used old photos of my mother as a young woman. They were miraculously all "friendship cards". So they were perfect to give to the ladies as thanks for the friendship they offered my mother. One of these cards is badly photographed here! The quote on it says "Friends are those rare people who ask how we are and wait to hear the answer."

The quote reminded me of the Buddhist idea of "right speech". It reminded me to be quiet when I delivered these cards and just listen a bit; not to jump in so quickly with a reply. I think generally we talk too much or maybe I should make that, generally I talk too much. The quote was a good reminder. Recently I read somewhere that any conversation about someone who is not present is gossip. This seemed a bit harsh but over the next few days I watched myself. I was a bit astounded at how often I mentioned other people in conversation (not maliciously). My daughter is doing this or how is so and so doing? And on and on. Hmmm maybe next on the agenda would be to try a day with no mention of anyone not present. I suspect my jaw will have a restful day!

Last night courtesy of my mother I spent a delightful hour with a woman I didn't know was a Buddhist. My mother left a little something to a woman who used to do some home care and cleaning for her. I looked her up, called her and then dropped by with the gift. My mother always felt a special connection to this woman. She was warm and kind and caring and cooked a mean Vietnamese noodle dish that we used to slurp up with gusto if we dropped by on the right day. When I visited her in her home she had a small altar in the kitchen and that started our conversation on Buddhism. When I told her I was interested in Buddhism she quickly went and retrieved some books she had from the Temple she has attended for the last 30 years, one of them called "A Rose For Your Pocket" by Thich Nhat Hanh which is all about mothers and their importance. Another one is called "The Buddhist Doctrine of Life After Death" . "This will help you not be so sad about your mother's death," she offered. It was a lovely visit filled with tea and Vietnamese cookies and a chat that felt like one between old friends. I left with 4 little books on Buddhism and an orchid which she insisted I take. "Think of your mother when you look at it," she said which seemed such a lovely generous offer. She told me briefly of her coming to Canada 30 years ago as a "boat person" and how hard her journey had been. I left feeling I was the recipient of more gifts than I had bestowed. It is interesting how even though my mother is gone, her presence is still strongly felt through the actions I am happy to carry out on her behalf; this little visit that was so heartwarming was courtesy of her. And on this occasion and in another instance I got to feel the delight of generosity in disbursing gifts that my mother had left to others. Even though she is gone from this world her presence still radiates through these gestures of generosity.

Surrender and Small Comforts

I am sitting on the couch in the dimming evening light, in the glow of the computer screen. I am happy to have no where to go, nothing to clean, no one who needs a phone call. I think I need some time to digest all that late August and early September have brought me. I feel a bit like a snake who has swallowed a cow. I need some time to lie here, inert, while the silent, invisible work of digestion takes place. Looking back, it has been a hard month and yet, when I say this, I am aware that not every moment was hard.

Yesterday I tried to practice surrender as 3 of us walked along the sun infused shore of China Beach, to just breathe in the energy of the giant trees in the forest and let the sound of the waves fill my ears. Nothing else. To let go of the subtle tentacles of wanting and needing, of planning and hoping, of thinking. Just to release the silent undercurrent and eddies of my habitual imaginings of how life should be. It was a fine warm day with good company.

Today after we delivered my good friend to the airport we stopped by to clean the last of my mother's things from her apartment. It felt good to have that taken care of. A few more faces of care workers and staff appeared to say good bye and I was able to offer them thanks for taking good care of my mother. Tomorrow I will deliver them some treats and a card, say a few final thank-yous and good byes. A closing and an opening woven seamlessly together, as so many things in life.

And so the trick as always is to be with what is, not to push away the sadness, but not to be swallowed by it. To take some time and rest and just be. To follow the call of what is needed, instead of rushing to fill up the space. To surrender, to let unfold what will. Sleeping in, being lazy, reading a book in bed these are the things that sound good to me right now. To just really sink into these small comforts.

"I don't like to be afraid, it scares me" -Woody Allen

I just got wacked upside the head last night by a large fear stick. It's interesting to me that my brush with the fear stick always causes the same reaction in me. I get terrified about something and have the same knee jerk reaction of not knowing what to do, of feeling overwhelmed, like I might drown in a pool of my own fear. No maybe this doesn't approach an accurate description of it. It's more like the spiritual temperature drops so far below freezing that I am immobilized. I become some inert brittle block of fear. I think I can identify with the catatonic.

The timing of some things was interesting. Tricycle's Daily Dharma proved to be whitling away on the fear stick this morning. It was a writing by Ezra Bayda, one of my favourite Zen teachers, called "The Three Things We Fear Most". How did he know this was what I needed to hear? It was interesting to be reminded of that neural groove that we all fall into, that our way of reacting to our fear is the result of deeply ingrained patterns in the brain. It was a good reminder that one of things that needed attention is this habitual reaction to my fear. He suggests breathing it into the heart, not running with the story; things I know it my head but are often difficult to do on the spot. He also suggests being curious about our fear, really exploring it, asking questions like how will it be this time? It's an entirely different way of relating to the fear that feels like it can break that habitual bond of terror.

Here's a section of his post that spoke to my particular brand of fear, one he calls the fear of helplessness: "We all dread the helplessness of losing control, and yet real freedom lies in recognizing the futility of demanding that life be within our control. Instead, we must learn the willingness to feel—to say yes to—the experience of helplessness itself. This is one of the hidden gifts of serious illness or loss. It pushes us right to our edge, where we may have the good fortune to realize that our only real option is to surrender to our experience and let it just be.

During a three-year period in the early 1990s when I was seriously ill with no indication that I would ever get better, I watched my life as I had known it begin to fall apart. I not only lost my ability to work and engage in physical activities, I also experienced a dismantling of my basic identities. At first, it was disorienting and frightening not to have the props of seeing myself as a Zen practitioner, a carpenter and contractor (my livelihood), a husband and a father. But as I stayed with the fears, and particularly as I was able to bring the quality of lovingkindness to the experience, there came a dramatic shift.
As the illusory self-images were stripped away, I experienced the freedom of not needing to be anyone at all. By truly surrendering to the experience of helplessness, by letting everything I clung to just fall apart, I found that what remained was more than enough. As we learn to breathe fear into the center of the chest, the heart feels more and more spacious. I’m not talking about the heart as a muscle in our chest, but rather the heart that is our true nature. This heart is more spacious than the mind can ever imagine." Bayda

The other interesting bit of timing that seemed to be offering me some direction was that I awoke at some point during the late evening to hear music my partner had put on. The song that was playing was an instrumental version of "Let It Be". It too was just what I needed to hear. And so the adventure continues. Can I breath in my fear today? Can I be curious about it? And can I just let it be?

Paper Buddhas & Tennis Balls

Here's a paper Buddha. Somehow it called to me as I looked through iphoto this morning. You've heard of paper tigers? I feel a bit like a paper Buddha these days.

We have been scrambling to keep the house neat as a pin, refreshed with flowers, garden watered as the gazillion folks make their way through our house to see if they'd like to buy it. After having to be out of the house all day we return to feedback and requests for more showing times. We feel the need to take care of our tenant who lives downstairs and not subject her to too much stress and visits. This is life in a faster lane than I usually live it.

I get to see the inclination to run with stories the mind creates and how emotions easily take hold when I am tired and stressed. I see my Taurus nature to get a little "uppity" when negative information is directed at me.

It is a prime opportunity to hold my seat and just let it all wash over me like a play. I am watching a movie really, just seeing it all unfold and yet..... it is so easy to get caught up in this little scene or that, to cling to what seems good and true to me.

There I am bouncing back and forth between hope and fear like a little tennis ball. It is a tiring thing, living life as a neon green tennis ball. Sometimes I take time out and decide with mindfulness that I will spend some time on the side lines, just me in green furry-ness, sitting peacefully on the edge of the court.

So today I am reminding myself to hold my seat as offers are called for at noon and to not go with the stories, to just let things unfold. This is my aim for the day, to enjoy my adventure, the movie that is my life, to keep my wits and not be drawn down the river of great emotion, that swirls with muddy confusion. I wish the same for you as you go about your day.

Tasting Life: Sweet, Salty, Sour, Pungent Or Bitter?

I just received my complimentary copy of "Buddhadharma Magazine" and I will have to post my art that appeared there as the credits that often appear in the "gutter" (which is the inside edge along the fold of the magazine) got lost. I had so much fun with that one when they suggested I look in the gutter for the credits. No I couldn't find myself in the gutter, although I know I spend some time there on a regular basis! Anyway I will get credit in the next issue which is just fine.

But what I am getting around to is a piece by Ezra Bayda, a Zen teacher whose clear, pragmatic writing I like a lot. In his Buddhadharma commentary called "The False Promise" he talks about how we spend a lot of time, years in fact trying to "be free of the anxious quiver of being". What a great image, "the anxious quiver of being." It can be almost too much to bear sometime.

And I think if we're honest most of us go there, trying to escape the anxious quiver. We embrace and lean into the comfort and try and get the uncomfortable out of the way as quickly as possible. We're hoping through our practice that we'll become less angry, less fearful, less gripped by our emotions, more clear and wise, less greedy. Some look forward to some sort of "enlightenment". We might hope to be calm and tranquil or clear, maybe blissful. We all spend some time with our hopes.

But Bayda points out: "One of the hardest things to understand in practice is that we don't have to fulfill our idealized pictures of how we're supposed to be or what life is supposed to be. All we have to do is experience and work with what our life is right now. It doesn't matter what arises. Nor does it matter how we feel about it. This may be hard to accept, but all that matters is whether we can honestly acknowledge what is going on and then stay with the present-moment reality of the experience."

So if we're attentive we will see ourselves in our little games, wanting, hoping, expecting. We'll see ourselves trying to control our environment or trying always to figure things out. Why did this happen, what does it mean? As our house hit the market on Thursday I could see this. Until now we have just been working away, focused on the many hours of painting, sprucing and tidying that went into preparing the house for sale. What, the closets need to be neat as a pin, all the kitchen cabinets too, and the basement? But underlying all this work is some expectation that this will make the house sell. I even (for shame) snuck into the yard next door and tidied the pile of old barbecues and strollers that sat in clear view of one of our windows. Pragmatic yes? Am I trying to control outcomes? Yes. I did it out of frustration and longing after several friendly chats with the upstairs neighbours produced no tidying results.

But for me where I really get lost is in the "how I feel about it" part. I love working with what arises, that is my passion, seeing where I hope, seeing how I try to control or make sense of the unknowable. But I am easily lost in the "I wish that didn't make me so mad" or "I wish I was more compassionate", or "I shouldn't feel that way."

So Bayda's article really called out to me, reminding me that it's all okay, the passing clouds of the day. Yes I can do my practice and yes it may change me in the long run but it's really about just being here with "the anxious quiver of being"

There is lots of grist for the mill as our house hits the market, as I prepare to do my mother's paper work and settle her affairs. I will even confess to using a feng shui method to help with the sale of the house, (hoping in action??) that Erin from Dragon Horse told me about. It's a fun little tidbit that you want to know, right? She gave me a little red envelope. In it you put some dirt from your garden, something metal from your kitchen and a piece of wood from a baseboard. You throw all this into a fast running river! Have I resorted to magical thinking or am I just working with unseen energies?

So there it is. Our life as the path. Mostly we know this but it is so easy to loose our way. What comes to us is our practice, not our ideas of how practice or life should or shouldn't be. Each little morsel of our experience is as flavourful as the next if we just let the taste rest on our tongue, not preferring the sweet to the bitter.

The Ego As Swiss Cheese, Full of holes and a bit stinky

It seems life is so full and busy right now that all I have time for is "to do what needs to be done", if that makes any sense. It seems akin to the experience Zen masters confer upon us when they have us sit a retreat with such intense schedule that somehow the ego doesn't have time for it's usual tricks. At some point in the process the ego begins to look like a bit of swiss cheese, full of holes and a bit stinky. Gruyere ego, that's what I am dining on these days.

It is all good, an opportunity for transformation. For the most part the experience of my mother's death has been a good one, one of deep peace and gratitude. Gratitude for her presence in my life, for all I have learned from her and with her and for her peaceful passing. I have encountered such loving and kind and comforting souls along these final steps of her journey, including the delightful, young funeral director who seemed to have such a direct understanding of the simple nature of our needs and dignified caring presence, a true kindred spirit. Of course there is sadness and a sense of an empty spot at moments when I might have called my mother or as I start on the project of cleaning out her apartment.

Thrown in with all this our house goes on the market this week so there is the busyness of last minute painting and prep which seems endless at this point. Throw in some phone calls and emails re: my mother and a little of this and that and all you can do really is attend to the details which is really what the Buddha suggested we do. Rumination and worry and anger are so clearly too much of energy suckers at this point. It seems so obvious from where I stand. And yet I got to look at what I habitually do and have a bit of a power struggle with the swiss cheese part of myself.

As we prepare we look at the house next door which has exploded into a rental property of vast busyness, 8 cars or more. I can no longer keep track of the number of people who actually live there. I had to spend a little grumble time to see the futility of my anger over this. I got to see the feature movie on clinging and fear as I worry over the impact of the this house on our property. And then I looked at my mother's death and how it had been so peaceful, why would I want to get all stirred up over the house next door? In the grand scheme of things how did this make any sense? Mother's death fine, house next door makes me crazy? I ask myself what's this all about. Why has it come to me? And the answer that seems most apparent is that there will always be people around us doing things that we (our little selves) don't like. At some point we need to make peace with that, find a way to hold it, that doesn't generate anger and torment for us. If I don't do it now, when will I do it, I ask myself? And so I work at being less egocentric. I work at letting go. It doesn't mean some appropriate action isn't taken. Maybe I will ask the woman upstairs if I can help her put some of her things in the storage room so the yard doesn't look so full of stuff. Or maybe I won't. I will wait and see what seems appropriate. And I feel thankful that my mother has provided me with this lovely parting gift of peace.

We attended my mother's cremation on Wednesday. It's not that usual for families to do but something in me wanted to do it. We helped the body in and started the cremation process, said a few prayers and a final good-bye. It seemed good to do, an act of respect and completion, a final act of keeping her company through the difficult. I have been saying a prayer for her each night before I fall into my work induced sleep.

And as always there is much to learn. It seems these days life is bringing me the simple reminder to do what needs to be done and let the rest go. To do my part, that's all I am asked really, and the universe handles the rest. No energy to waste on the fruitless trappings of worry and anger and speculation. No time for art, little time for blogging. But that is life right now, why argue with it? So I need to hurry off to buy more paint, paint the living room. I am truly thankful for all of this and the lovely souls I meet along the way each day. May your day bring you what you need.

Thinking Mind, Grumbling Mind, Embrace Them All

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

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

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

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

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

Strong Back, Soft Heart

Here's a second study of the "rainbow buddha". I did an earlier one that sold and then because I am always exploring the face of the Buddha and I love these colours I did another one, using more shading and detailing, especially around the eyes. George Littlechild is a painter I love and in a strange way I feel a connection through my colourful Buddhas . This Buddha has a very "female" look as do a number of my Buddha's. Maybe it's time do do a Tara as one friend keeps urging me or a Quan Yin as another suggests.

Yesterday as I sat in meditation I heard some words that I remember hearing 20 years ago at the Shambhala Centre I attended then. I believe they are attributed to Chogyam Trungpa: "Have a strong back and a soft heart" I may be off in the exact words and the trusty, know-it-all "google" couldn't find them for me. But they seem important to me in my practice lately.

If all we have is a soft heart (which is kind of my inclination) we tend to be weighted down by the troubles of the world, our own and that of others. The sadness and the suffering pile up and we feel overwhelmed. I remember when I first went to the Dharma talks of my teacher it seemed all I could see was the suffering around me. I felt like an open wound, oozing and raw. But a soft heart is an important part of the practice, to be open to the suffering and pain of others (and ourselves) to be willing to walk into it, to be with it, not pushing it away and saying everything is copacetic.

And yet this is not the whole picture (as I sensed in my overwhelmed state) As a senior teacher at the Shambhala Centre suggested, yes we need to have a soft heart, to let the world in, to let it touch us but we need to have a strong back to bear it all. We need to find a way to hold that suffering and not collapse or push it away. It is about this balance, this blend of soft and strong, and I like that it is described with the body. I see this picture of me with my soft heart being pulled forward and rolling up into a tiny ball. That's too much soft heart. And if you only have a strong back, perhaps your body is pulled so straight up, so tightly, that things simply bounce off your heart and can't enter there?

And for those of us with soft hearts, how do we develop the strong back? I am not sure about that? I am working on it. Our training helps us develop wisdom and clarity that allows us to see the truth of situations. To me that means that it is not always the "soft, kind, fuzzy" action that is helpful in a particular instance. As in the story I told of my friend repeating her problem over and over I have come to realize it is not helpful for either of us to let this go on. I need to have a strong back and in as kind and skillful way as possible not indulge delusion.

I need to have the strength to do the hard thing. I need to trust that the universe is unfolding as it should. If something seems horrific to me I can remember as my friend the monk says, "that something greater is working itself out" that is beyond my understanding. It doesn't mean I give up action and caring, it means using my strong back allows me to lift and hold a weight that would otherwise oppress my soft heart and render me "unhelpful" to myself and others.

And my wish for you is, may you go out into the world with your strong back and your soft heart and embrace what the world has to offer you.

Panhandling for Dharma

I am the little bear doing somersaults on the easel, or at least that's me goofing off.  I'm doing a little big city living in a downtown condo in Vancouver high above the city on the 11th floor of a very swanky condo.  We're doing another home exchange and it's always interesting to move into someone else's living space for a little while.  There is always this period of transition at first, the feeling of being unsettled and not knowing quite what to do, a strange restlessness, a discomfort, but not quite.

It's interesting to see that I felt much more at home in the 2 island exchanges.  There is a constant din of traffic and sirens and car alarms and horns and while I always think I love the light, these floor to ceiling windows make me feel like a goldfish in a bowl.  There is no respite from the visual and auditory stimulation.  And while up front I don't feel overtly bothered by it, I sense a background, subliminal feeling of overload, if that makes any sense.  I couldn't imagine passing all my days here.  And while I know that quiet comes from within, I have a sense that until you are a very advanced practitioner, you need that outer silence as well, to help you connect with the inner silence.

What I love about the big city is the people watching.  There is such diversity, so many different, interesting sorts.  Today I saw an older woman pushing a baby stroller and instead of having a baby in the seat, she had a tame white duck or goose sitting on the canopy of the stroller.  A live goose in downtown Vancouver, I swear.  Standing on the corner waiting for the light to change as if this was quite common place.  As if she might meet another person coming down the street with say a small fox perched on a wagon.  Who am I to say what is normal or odd or how reality should unfold?  And as we strolled down Commercial Street, we notice a rather cool looking guy dressed all in black sitting in front of a closed shop.  Placed about 6 feet in front of him was a small table with some flowers in a pop bottle and a little sign that said: "Last Chance Counseling Service"  If I had a little more nerve I might have gone and asked for some.  He looked a little wise, like he'd been around the block once or twice.  And what was he doing there?  Was he offering a service?  Was he trying to make some money?  

And then there are all the homeless folk, asking for money, trying to sell you a bookmark, or a poem or just lying on the sidewalk with a newspaper for a pillow.  My heart goes out to them.  And I wonder, "what is it good to do?"  I know some people very firmly believe that you shouldn't give them money.  They just spend it on their "habits".  I have such mixed feelings about it.  Sometimes I give.  Sometimes I don't.  But one thing I try and do is offer them something, a smile, a word, a look that says yes I see you.  You exist for me.    A couple of years ago I attended a talk by a young man who had done the street Dharma practice where you go out and live on the street for a couple of days.  He talked about his panhandling experience and how he felt invisible and less than human because people turn away.  We turn away because we're uncomfortable, embarrassed, not interested.  But we forget that there is another human being on the other end of the turning away.  For us, the entitled, it may seem hard to understand how someone can be diminished when we look away.  After that I realized that it is very small offering, but it is always available for me to give, a bit of dignity offered in the willingness to look  you in the eye.

So that's my big city Dharma.  The noise reminds me of how important silence is to me.   And I get to experience a huge range of human diversity here where the sites and sounds are multiplied and magnified.   I can watch us strange and miraculous human entities, each with our own karma playing itself out.  I can offer what small thing I have, a bit of myself.  And I can live for a short time up in the sky, behind glass,  with the city lights twinkling all around me like stars, remembering all the strange things I have seen, which include a small package in an apartment window that contained jasmine scented angel snot (I am not kidding, I saw it with my own eyes) and I'd only had a single glass of wine!

Rest Your Life On The Dharma

Ah, it's a slippery slope and I'm already at the bottom.  You don't want to hear about it.  Another piece of photo art instead of studio art.  As my friend the Buddhist monk and I sometimes chuckle we are "delinquent" types often ready to bend and play with the rules.  And yes I have excuses.  We delinquent types always do.  But I won't bore you with them.  

This delicious rock is from the beautiful Quadra Island and reminded me of an abstract painting lying there on the beach.  How could I not bring it home?  How could I not share it with you?  I could say something like "the Dharma rocks" but you won't catch me saying anything so foolish and age inappropriate as that, even if it does.  

And if I were to use this photo as a jumping off point for writing about the Dharma I would refer back the solid nature of that rock,  how it is such a good solid foundation to rest things on.  And from my earliest encounters with my Zen teacher I found that practice and the Dharma brought sanity to my life and gave me a foundation on which to make wiser, more wholesome choices in my daily life.  Not that I could always do it, not that I could always get it right, but the Dharma helped me point myself in that direction.  Dharma as bow, me as arrow.  As time went on I came to have a first hand understanding  about the suffering that leads to the end of suffering, instead of the suffering that leads to more suffering.  I could work with my life, now that was exciting stuff.

In my previous incarnation as a Dharma dabbler I felt battered about by life, the winds and waves of human interaction and emotions.  It made me crazy sometimes and I didn't understand why.  Why does this happen to me?  What am I doing wrong?  Trekking  the peaks and valleys of daily life just tired me out and puzzled me.  But the Dharma made the crazy, broken puzzle I lived in make sense.  It was a place to rest my longings and frustrations, a place of great logic and wisdom.  Suddenly the fuzzy bits started coming into focus.

I can no longer imagine how I lived my life without the Dharma to help me through the narrow spots, over the rapids, around the sharp broken bottles of life.  How do you work with your anger without the Dharma?  How do you understand the strange things (sometimes unkind things) that people do?  How do you have cancer without the Dharma?  How do you become kinder without the Dharma?  How do you learn to plunge in and savour fleeting chats with strangers without the Dharma?

And here is a wonderful quote from the Dhammapada that reminds me that the Dharma is like a sumptuous piece of cheesecake or chocolate cake, meant to be shared:
The gift of Dharma excels all other gifts.

The flavor of Dharma excels all other flavors

The pleasure of the Dharma excels all other pleasures.

One who has destroyed craving overcomes all sorrow. 
Pass it on.