The profundity of choice

One of the most profound, most defining, moments in my life came about 15 years ago when I was reading (for the umpteenth time) portions of Gary Zukav's book, The Seat of the Soul. I remember so clearly -- sitting in my car eating lunch in Eastsound, Orcas Island, WA.  I no longer have the book so I can't quote exactly, nor can I explain why this short passage resonated so strongly with me in that moment. But it did. I think that sometimes things simply enter our consciousness at the time we're ready to hear it, and when we most need it. I'm open to better explanations if anybody wants to offer one up.

What Gary said, paraphrased, is that we have a choice in every moment how we feel, how we react, what our outlook on life is for that moment. The proverbial light bulb lit up for me as the words sunk in. At the time, I was struggling with deep, deep, clinical depression and had been for about 20 years. My body didn't react well to most anti-depressants and their side effects, and most seemed to have little effect on the depression. I fought feelings about death being the best solution, although I never reached that suicidal moment where I actually tried to die. There was a really close moment in early 2000, not long before I moved to Orcas. A moment that scared me for its intensity. Had I been somewhere I could have done something, I think I would have. Fortunately for me, I was sitting in a theater watching some kind of ballet performance, with my housemate. By the time the performance was over, the intensity had passed and my inner strength was once again in control.

I mention all that merely to illustrate the depths of my state of mind at the moment the light bulb went off. What I took from those words in that moment was that I could make a choice in every moment to not be depressed. To let go of the overwhelm, the tension and sadness, for that moment. To feel the relief, find a little sunshine and change my outlook for that moment. I thought deeply about this while I finished lunch, then began putting the idea into action. I found that yes, I actually could make that choice. The relief from the overwhelm only lasted for that moment. There was no miraculous healing. But I was desperate, and thus driven to keep trying whatever I felt might work. I kept making the choice, as many moments of the day as I could manage. One moment at a time. Soon, one moment would become two moments. There were shorter time periods between the moments. They began to merge into longer moments.

Every small moment of success fed hope, and hope dislodges hopelessness. I was on the right track and I persevered until enough moments merged together, over and over again, until I felt that I, not the depression, was in control of my life. It was a powerful lesson. I was still depressed, but the intensity of the depression was considerably lighter.

Fast forward a few years and I attended my very first Buddhist meditation retreat, a grueling 10-day ordeal filled with exploding emotions and searing back pain. It wasn't until the 9th day of this retreat that I made a similar discovery about choice. I was sitting in the meditation hall in the morning, and realized that while the back pain was insignificant at that early hour, I was already creating suffering by thinking about how bad it would become as the day progressed. Another light bulb moment for me about making choices in any given moment. I could choose to focus on the pain that would be coming later in the day, or I could choose to go with what was happening in that very moment. I chose the latter, and it was a huge lesson for me that has had truly profound ramifications in my life over the past 10 years.

There's an adage around that says what you focus on increases and what you ignore decreases. I don't know the source of the adage -- pop psychology, real psychology? Doesn't matter, but it's something I've found to be true, certainly. If I sit around and whine, feel sorry for myself, about something or other that's happening in my life I end up being obsessed with it, keep the tapes playing around in my mind over and over, getting more and more miserable as a result. Even if it's something I perceive as a good thing, rather than a bad thing, the obsession eventually wears off and reality intrudes.

On a simplistic level, we all also have a choice in every moment whether or not to let something bother us. It's easy to get huffy, resentful, frustrated or any of a myriad other feelings when something doesn't go the way you want it to and is out of your control. Just as easy, but requiring a little effort until it becomes a habit, is shrugging it off. Choosing not to let it bother us, then going on with life.  I use that one a lot for things like noisy neighbors and yappy dogs.

It took me a few years of Buddhist study after that 2005 retreat to begin to really understand and use the Buddhist theory of impermanence, or anicca,  which can be seen as an underlying basis for making choices in the moment. I've referenced impermanence more than once on this blog, most thoroughly in the link that's highlighted. I urge you to read this if you want to understand the theory more thoroughly.

Basically, impermanence means that nothing is permanent -- big surprise there! If we look at the world, our own lives, our own bodies with honesty we can see the truth easily. Nothing is permanent. Everything changes every day, moment-to-moment. Wanting things to be any different creates struggle and misery, because stopping change is impossible. Observing life with an open mind will show you the truth in this. For me back in 2005, it meant that depression wasn't permanent. In 2010 it meant that back pain wasn't permanent. And it meant that I could choose to not focus on these things, thus stopping the proliferation of the depression, or the back pain.

Once I actually began to really understand the Buddhist teachings on impermanence on a personal experiential level, rather than simply reading about it in a book, my life changed profoundly once again. No matter what is happening in my life, I can see it in the light of impermanence and its power over me disappears. Big things, little things. I simply choose to not focus on the negativity. Changes within the aging body (inevitable!) or frustrations with a living situation, other things that arise from day to day, are all impermanent and do not merit the waste of my energy that comes with focusing on them. Granted, some physical conditions are here to stay and more will probably come as I continue to age. I may not be able to cure or heal such afflictions, but I don't have to sink into misery by focusing on them, either. I can make other choices. The choice is all mine, free for the asking, and available in every moment.

What choices could you make in your life that could lessen your physical or emotional suffering? Look closely, openly and honestly. Ask yourself the question sincerely and if you see something, give it a try. What do you have to lose?

What you have to gain is wisdom.

Believe nothing

Many westerners seem to lump Buddhism in with other 'religions' and then reject it out of hand because of presumed dogma. I find frustration with this approach, because in conversations I find these people to be unwilling or unable to look at the subject in any way other than what they already believe. I'm hardly a spokesperson to say what Buddhism is, but one thing I can say unequivocally is that whatever it is, it's not dogma, or blind belief.

One of the first things I learned, in my first ever meditation retreat where I heard my first Buddhist teachings (a 10-day Goenka retreat many years ago), was that we should not accept the teachings blindly, that they were intended to be used experientially. They only asked that we try it with an open mind and see for ourselves whether or not the teachings and practice were beneficial to us.

Many years later when I lived in Georgia and attended a monthly half-day retreat at someone's home for about 3 years, the host always ended the retreat with the above words (from the book Beginning to See, by Sujata), which always stuck with me because of their beauty as much as because of their message. But the message is the basis of what I follow and what we are asked to follow, and the explanation far better than any words I could put together.

For most of us who approach our Buddhist practice with this philosophy, we find that the path indeed leads to good and happiness for all creatures, including ourselves first and foremost. There is no 'idol worship' involved. I've been accused of that, among other things, from a preconceived bias of another person. For most of us westerners who practice Buddhism, the draw is Buddhist psychology, which simply teaches us how to train our own mind for our own benefit, which ripples out to benefit others we encounter. It's not a religious practice.

For me, this simple bit of philosophy from the renowned Thai monk Ajahn Chah, says it all:

 The heart of the path is so simple. No need for long explanations. Give up clinging to love and hate, just rest with things as they are.

We learn to let go of unwholesome mental states such as anger, hatred, greed, attachment and judgment. We replace these with more wholesome mental states such as metta (loving-kindness), compassion, generosity, acceptance and goodwill. None of it happens overnight -- you can't simply decide to never be angry again, for example, and have that come to fruition. For most of us, it's a continual process, based in mindfulness and awareness (a relaxed, open state in which we can observe our thoughts, feelings, and behavior as they arise, without being overtaken by them), that releases the anger or other unwholesome state bit by bit until one day one becomes aware that yes, anger is gone! It comes from deep inside, not from a surface thought, and it's permanent. And it certainly does not come from believing that if we accept the principle as a dogma, the Buddha will then grant our wishes, or that some rite or ritual will be our salvation. WE are our salvation. The Buddha only taught the steps that lead us there. WE have to do the actual work to arrive at the destination, the goal, which is simply a state called true happiness.

You have to do your own work;

Enlightened Ones will only show the way.

Those who practice meditation

will free themselves from the chains of death.

Dhammapada 20.276

 
As opposed to situational happiness, which comes from circumstances in our life that bring joy for a short while, true happiness comes from releasing unwholesome states, from replacing them with wholesome states. And until you try it for yourself, you'll just have to take my word (and the word of thousands of others who've tried it) that true happiness is far, far better than any situational happiness could ever be because it's steady and lasting and always with us. We don't need outside influences to bring happiness, we only need what's inside ourselves.

As to the subject of whether or not Buddhism is a religion, I leave that to more learned folks than I. From my experience and observation, and from my earliest teaching (at the above-referenced Goenka retreat), it was impressed upon me that the teachings were non-denominational and were appropriate and non-conflicting for people from any or no religious background. It's not at all unusual to see a Catholic nun, for example, at these retreats. There was one at my first retreat. The Church does not see the teachings as conflicting with their own teachings.

A few years ago at a retreat at the Bhavana Society in West Virginia, Bhante Gunaratana was speaking in the meditation hall and brought up the question of whether Buddhism is or is not a religion. He (a Sri Lankan by birth) said that it is indeed a religion, an old and respected religion, but he also acknowledged that most westerners don't practice it as such. A friend of mine, Bhante Cintita Dinsmore of the Sitagu monastery in Austin, TX is a western monk who has written extensively on the subject from a western viewpoint. He wrote of what he called 'folk Buddhism', which came about as the Buddha's basic teachings traveled slowly from India into the various countries and cultures of southeast Asia. Here, he said, the teachings were blended with the already-existing religious cultures and became part of those religious cultures. If you are interested in his writings, visit his blog Through the Looking Glass.

A student of Buddhism will readily see that there are still differences between Burmese Buddhism, Thai Buddhism, the Buddhism of Laos and Vietnam and Sri Lanka, Malaysia and Indonesia and others, all home to Theravada Buddhism practices.  Most of southeast Asia practices Theravada Buddhism, as I do. Zen and Tibetan Buddhism have evolved into quite different and thus separate divisions of Buddhism, no longer under the Theravada umbrella. But as different as they may be, all of these follow the same core psychology and teachings of the Buddha. It's only the expression of these teachings that may vary from place to place. The Buddha himself said that he was not a god and that he was not to be worshiped. All he asked was that people follow the path to true happiness that he learned in his years of meditation and finally, his enlightenment. Meditation and a search for these things had been long-practiced in India even 2500 years ago, but he brought something new and profound to the picture and that's what made him The Buddha, as opposed to other buddha's or wise men who had come before him.

But, don't believe me, either. Try it for yourself, with an open mind and a willingness to trust that 2500 years and thousands of people who have benefited can't be all wrong. This much is required initially. A closed mind with immovable pre-conceived ideas will never budge. Give it time. Learn from people who know (don't make it up for yourself). If indeed you find that the path works, then and only then should you follow it, like the moon in the path of the stars.

Resistance

I don't know how your mind works, but I've known for a good long while that mine seems to automatically resist a lot of what it encounters on a daily basis. As with many things, that realization stayed totally in the background because I really didn't want to look at it.

But, as generally happens, eventually, lately I've begun to look at it -- be more aware of how often it happens, look at the situation, and realize how miserable I can make myself by such actions. I can resist anything -- a different way of doing things, something somebody else suggests (this was a real problem back when I was working!), or things that I might be considering in my own life, independent of anyone else.

A few days ago this trait came to mind in a big way. I drove from Oregon to Santa Rosa, CA, and considered many route possibilities -- all of which are long familiar to me. I ended up taking what was probably the slowest route -- 11 hours door-to-door -- while thoroughly resisting the route that would have been easiest. Even more foolishly, I was aware all along that I was resisting that route, and why, and that my reasons were not valid. I simply did not want travel through the city of Sonoma, and that was based completely on past memories of heavy traffic on weekends during tourist season, none of which would apply in this case. Still, I resisted, and chose the long way. After I arrived here, I looked at the map and saw just how close this location is to Sonoma, how easy it would be to get from here to there, and from there to good freeways. Through resistance, through simply seeing a bottleneck that didn't exist, I bought myself two or three extra hours of driving. I'll certainly return through Sonoma!

But, this time I really felt the misery I caused myself by the mere act of resistance -- which has a root in aversion. Aversion is the opposite of craving, and between the two, they are the root of all human mental suffering. Aversion comes from having something you don't want, craving comes from wanting something you don't have. Both avoid accepting what actually does exist, and thus is born unhappiness.

Lately, I've been letting go of resistances when they arose and I noticed. This incident has taught the importance of such awareness, and even more, the importance of accepting what is, and letting go of resistance. Life is easier. I am  happier. There are many more important examples, of course, but this is the one that hit home.

What resistances do you see in your own daily life? Ask yourself, is this resistance merely a habit? Is it leading me to mental suffering and unhappiness? Is it easier in the long run to simply recognize resistance for what it is and cease resisting to these simple and often unimportant issues in life?

Solitude

Some of us are born to a solitary life, and I seem to be one of those. I have long been content with my own company, introspective and probing of my mind and its actions and reactions long before I found Buddhism. The older I get, with the constraints of work mostly in the past, the more I seem to sink happily into solitude, whether it's in a monastic setting or here in my little cottage in the garden.

I have had moments of seeing that much of my life seemed pre-designed to place me in solitude of one kind or another, with little family, little sense of home, many superficial friends and a few true friends scattered far and wide across the country. I've seen that perhaps the intention behind this design was to give me the time and place for introspection or, even more, for meditation.

I'm not sure I always saw this as a positive. There was for a good long time some amount of underlying resentment and sorrow that I never found the kind of life I wanted, that no matter what turn my life might take, it always took me in a direction that in the end promoted solitude rather than the close companionship I desired. I always worked, was always around people during the day and often into the evening, partying with co-workers or friends. But I also had lots of time for solitude, whether it was long hikes or bike rides alone, or just cocooned at home with good music and a good book.

Over the years I seem to have become totally comfortable with the solitude, although I admit that I find the heavy solitude of life at the hermitage in the redwoods to be more than even I am comfortable with! It seems strange, but I like my solitude punctuated by music I love, or the sounds of human voices on the radio or TV from time to time, although I prefer to read -- and of course, meditate -- in quiet surroundings.

My life is never without 'issues' that come to the forefront of my mind and need to be addressed. Life itself (actually, the human mind) seems to produce them in a never-ending parade and I've found that whether I'm watching/listening to media, reading a book, preparing food or cleaning house, my strong mindfulness works on these issues even in the midst of distraction. My teacher calls it moment-to-moment meditation, and it's a skill I've had for many years now. Solitude helps immensely, even if it's not silent solitude.  In fact, this subject and title came from a line in a book I'm reading. That line, some of us are born to a solitary life, struck me so deeply that I had to stop reading, had to contemplate this, then had to sit down to write this post. I'd never really seen my life in that light before, but it seemed so clear, the insights so strong.

The Buddha said that in order to attain enlightenment 'a monk' should live in solitude and contemplate the teachings and the workings of one's mind (paraphrased). Many take that literally, although finding true isolation is not so easy in this day and age as it was years ago in Asia where many hermit monks lived alone in primitive caves or forests, and where many probably still live that life deep in the mountains away from cities. It's something I've been drawn to, without the courage to follow it through.

And while I'm  pretty sure that my own style of solitude surrounded by a TV and music and a computer are not at all what the Buddha had in mind, I think it's worked fairly well for me. I've had years where I spent many hours on the cushion, in deep meditation. Nowadays, my cushion time is limited but the mind is always aware, and despite the TV, music, books and the computer, I live in happy solitude where my mind is always free to stop and contemplate whatever arises during those long hours alone. And, while the environment within these walls is something I can control, there is often noise (loud music, loud voices, barking dogs) right outside the walls, so I have constant, ample objects for contemplation! I contemplate the benefits of wholesome qualities such as compassion, kindness and generosity, while letting go of unwholesome qualities such as ill-will, resentment, anger and such as they arise. I see the inherent suffering that's connected to those unwholesome qualities. I am able to immediately see their passing impermanent nature and recognize that they are not 'mine', but merely products of the mind that will only harm me if I grasp at them. I live more and more in a calm state of equanimity with the many things that arise from within my mind or outside the walls.

And that, after all, IS what the Buddha had in mind.  Impermanence, suffering and non-self are the three marks of existence which the Buddha called the universal, fixed law of Dhamma. It is often said that full insight into the three marks of existence is the main condition for liberation leading to Nibbana. So, does it matter whether I live in a Himalayan cave in total solitude, or in a tiny cottage in a backyard garden with TV, music and books? It probably does, on some level, but this is what I have and this is a kind of solitude that seems to work for me. Most importantly, it is what is. It's what I've got at this moment in time. Rather than fight it, or long for something different, I'm happy to accept what is, with the full knowledge that no matter what I do or don't do, it will change due to impermanence. And there will be another reality to accept. And happiness comes from that acceptance.

Discipline

Since my return from California in September, my meditation has been all but non-existent, my ability to focus and concentrate and even my interest in attempting meditation has just not been there. As the cold weather has closed in I've gravitated more and more to my inner 'need' to bake and gobble up the final product in a way that can only be categorized as greed. There's no other way to look at it, whether one has Buddhist tendencies or not. Eating a whole small chocolate cake, for example, gobbling it all up in one sitting when one is not hungry and when one knows the body will react in a negative way afterwards, is greed. For me, it's definitely a craving that's always with me, one that I'm sometimes able to ignore, one that lately I've simply indulged. This is just one instance of late where craving around food has manifested itself in my life, and where I haven't had the discipline to say no.

This morning I logged on to the Bhavana web site and saw a link to an article by Bhante Gunaratana on the subject of Morality, in response to a question. Now, none of this is new to me. Morality is one of the basics of our practice and for the most part, I've developed what I think is pretty good morality, in the Buddhist sense.  The big exception for me is what he calls addictive behavior, when it comes to unnecessary food and I've long been aware of this. It's what we consider an unwholesome action.

In response to the question regarding Morality, Bhante G suggests substituting the word 'Discipline' for the word 'Morality', and somehow this helped me to put everything into a new and better perspective. Yes, I already knew I wasn't disciplined in this regard, and knew I wasn't even trying to be disciplined, but sometimes seeing or hearing the words at just the right time can make all the difference in how we react. Today must have been just the right time for me, because I got it.

I'm not going to reprint the entire article -- follow the link if you wish to read it -- but I will quote a few things that seemed to resonate with me.

"And, yes, it is correct to say that practicing sila—acting with discipline and restraint in daily life—lays an essential foundation for a good meditation practice.

"When we don’t have sufficient discipline, our practice will be difficult. Mindfulness may then be hard to attain or to sustain. We must have good discipline to be mindful."

He likens Sila (Morality) to sealing a house so the house has a good foundation that is firm and steady.  "Sila is like that when it comes to meditation. It’s the foundation. Through restraint, through wholesome actions and decisions made in our daily lives, we lay this foundation.

"If we don’t lay a good foundation for meditation, we can directly see the results in our practice. You may be meditating regularly, sitting a half-hour or an hour. All of a sudden one day, you can’t even sit for 10 minutes. Your mind is agitated, you’re constantly distracted, you simply can’t focus. Something you have done in your life—becoming enraged with someone, sexual misconduct, addictive behavior of all sorts or some other unwholesome action of body, speech or mind—has deeply registered in your subconscious mind. It keeps coming back up, making you feel remorseful, guilty, restless, full of worries. You just can’t sit!"  Boy, do I know this one well!

He says we can't wait until we are moral saints to begin meditation. "Whatever our moral situation, we must begin. We make the commitment to root out unwholesome behavior and to encourage wholesome habits in our lives." If we fail, he says, "If you do, then learn from those consequences. Feel the heaviness in your mind and in your life. Our goal is to make the mind light, to make our life light. After all, we are seeking to attain en-light-enment, aren’t we?"

He stresses that these are not commandments.  Sila is something we undertake on our own, by choice.  "If you don’t make the effort, if you commit some unwholesome behavior, you reap the consequences and it affects your meditation practice. If you do make the effort, you’ll also see the positive consequences—it’s very cause and effect. We practice sila for own self-confidence and to overcome our weaknesses. So, sila is a way of behaving, that we ourselves choose. We undertake it by ourselves for the sake of a steady state of mind, for the sake of progress in our practice. Good sila strengthens our courage and ability. It gives support to our meditation practice and provides psychological strength. It is this foundation that is absolutely necessary to gain concentration."

Discipline is the word of the day for me. I've already begun, with breakfast. Delicious, sufficient in quantity, but about half what I'd normally prepare and eat ravenously, from pure pleasure at the taste, beyond what is needed for sustenance. Yes, as I sit here writing I could use another serving -- but only from desire, not from hunger. I had great discipline in the forest, partly because little was available and partly because the monastic life simply calls for discipline in all things.

Aside from discipline about excessive and unneeded food, I also need discipline around exercise and more importantly, around meditation. The latter will be taken care of in a few days as I begin a retreat, but I need to exercise that same discipline on a daily basis, right here at  home. This is how wisdom develops -- actually, all three of the basics taught by the Buddha (Morality, Wisdom and Concentration) rely upon one another for support and growth, but Morality is the foundation. And I need to get back to it.

Contentment

For most of this past year I have been learning, re-learning, practicing and yes, struggling with, the process of Letting Go.  As stated in the linked blogpost, I've been letting go in smaller ways for years. This year was time to tackle letting go in big ways, because my current life path simply requires doing so. I don't think it's possible to effect a major change in one's life without letting go of the outcome, the fears, worries and doubts. At least it isn't for me, although that may merely be a factor of age and meager finances since it wasn't an issue in my younger years, when I'd up and move or change careers at the drop of a hat.

That's not to say I haven't found success, because I have let go of countless attachments and fears and such. But, I'm finding that the process of letting go is very much akin to (even related to) the process of of finding and eliminating Greed. Both are insidious -- as that linked blogpost points out, I have clearly and fully let go of lots of greed, both of the major and minor type. The same can be said of letting go of attachments and emotions. And yet, every time I feel I've made wonderful progress with either, I'll discover new and different ways that greed is manifesting itself, or that I'm holding on to an attachment or outcome in perhaps a different way. Thankfully, for the most part these are minor, particularly with greed. Letting go is still harder and in more major ways, and keeps surfacing again and again. Clearly, I'm not there yet.

While fear is part of what I'm letting go, it's interesting to me in that fear has never been a real part of my life. I've never hesitated to make major changes and live with the consequences. Mostly, the consequences were of a pleasant nature. Often, they effected major life changes of a kind that needed to be made. For example, it's amazing what one can learn about oneself during a two-month solo bicycle trip in the Colorado Rockies. Camping out every night, often in severe thunderstorms, preparing meals over a tiny camp stove, flat tires, exhaustion, struggling up steep Continental Divide passes or up a trail to the top of a fourteener can really tell you what you're made of -- and what you want to be made of.

The absence of physical fear did not, however, alleviate the deep inner fears that created a painfully shy child, teenager and adult. Much of the shyness eased, at least on the surface, but many of those deep fears remain and that's what I'm struggling with as much as I'm struggling with letting go of attachment to outcome. With letting go of control, if you will.

A few weeks ago, after writing the previous post here, I began a 28-day experiment with the idea of simply trusting that the perfect place/situation for me is out there and that it will be revealed in the proper time. Doing this gradually took the pressure -- internal pressure -- off the whole process of figuring out what to do, where to go. The result? Contentment.

That's a big deal. Many times I've found myself sitting on my sofa reading, for example, and realized that I was totally and completely content with that perfect moment and life in general. It continues, and expands daily -- and certainly not because life is what we'd think of as particularly perfect. I'm living in a house with no hot water, so how perfect could it be? But it feels perfect because I've accepted the reality of the moment -- from the lack of hot water to letting go of fretting about 'where to go and what to do'.  This is what's happening and since I can't change it, let it go.  Like everything else, this reality will change, for better or worse, so why grasp at it? Why get stuck on it? Why let it bother you? That's what I'm told enlightenment -- full enlightenment -- is all about. Arahants (fully enlightened ones) have aches and pains and frustrations and everything the rest of us have -- the difference is that it doesn't bother them. That's the goal.

No decisions about my future, but then, none are required yet. I'm here until spring and have confidence that the answer will be revealed by then. I'm certainly seeing things more clearly about all of the previous options, and have sent a letter of inquiry into yet another possibility. In the meantime, I continue to watch thoughts and insights arise and become clear, and letting this contentment soak as fully and deeply into the heart/mind as possible.

 On the other hand, I'm finding a bit of greed around baked goodies -- something I fight every winter because baking simply seems like the thing to do in cold weather, so while life is good I am far from perfect.

Thoughts from the forest

My kuti -- the newest one, named Access

My experience here this summer is diametrically opposed to my experience here last summer. How can that be? I've asked myself that -- and come up with several possible or combination of answers. One is that my expectations this year were based on past knowledge of what I'd find, rather than whatever unknown expectations I had last year. Another (gained from a posting by our Abbess, Ayya Tathaaloka) is that my perceptions are different this year. I'm looking at the forest as home, seeing its value, its ability to heal, its beauty, its peace and silence and being surrounded by nature all as wonderful opportunities, not as an obstacle.

Once again, I packed the wrong clothing for the weather we are experiencing -- I brought warm things based on my cold experience last year. The few cool t-shirts I have see frequent washings, while the heavier things languish on the shelves. And that's never a complaint -- give me warm, sunny, breezy and totally beautiful days anytime, and I will adjust to meet the circumstances.

And that, as I type this, reminds me once again (and again, from reading Ayya Tathaaloka's words recently) that anything life presents us with can be viewed and perceived as an opportunity, rather than an obstacle, if you open your heart-mind to the possibilities. I see nothing here as an obstacle that can't be overcome.

Here on the land -- a fitting illustration.

Switching topics a bit, I want to quote something wonderful that I read a couple of days ago in a book called A Still Forest Pool, the Insight Meditation of Achaan (Ajahn) Chah.  I haven't finished the book because by evening, when I have time to read, my brain is tired and not much of it sticks. But this stuck: "The heart of the path is so simple. No need for long explanations. Give up clinging to love and hate, just rest with things as they are. That is all I do in my own practice."  Never have I read anything that cut so deeply, so quickly and simply to the heart of how we are meant to practice. Although I could never have stated it with such clarity as this, I can say with all honesty that this is where my practice is trending at the time, mostly off the cushion as I go through each day with this intention fully in my mind.

Being here has already developed this ability in me to a much greater degree, and continues to do so daily. Things change here with sometimes startling rapidity.  My options are to sit back by the wayside and grumble (clinging), resist the change in plans, or to just roll with it, which is what I do almost seamlessly now. I sometimes smile at an unexpected change, but don't cling to whatever it was that changed.

Walking down to the creek.

Now, on to fun! We had a wonderful young woman visit for a bit over a day, filled with questions about life here, about the mechanics of ordaining and such. Yesterday before she left Ayya took us for a creek walk (our creek, fittingly named DharmaCreek) that led us to a lovely waterfall -- shown in the above photo. And I mean literally a creek walk -- not walking alongside the creek, but for the most part walking in the creek, scrambling over and around huge boulders, along narrow bits of land alongside a really huge rock, through and around trees and branches, whatever it took to pick a path to the waterfall. To be clear: I love creekwalks! Have enjoyed them in the past -- the long ago past. I expect that the last one was maybe 1993-1995, and I was pleased and surprised that this body would still do it.

The pool again, and the rocks. All so beautiful. The air was warm, the cool water felt so wonderful on my feet. Not only am I a nature girl, I'm also a water girl.

Once here, we talked for awhile then sat in meditation for 20 minutes or so before reversing our course back to the cars. This is just a tiny taste of what is available here, if we (I) but only take advantage of it.

Not a fascinating photo, taken from the waterfall looking back, but it does show the beauty of the creek, the forest, all that surrounds us as we dwell here happily and peacefully. How can this be perceived as unpleasant?

Wisdom 2.0

I recently spent a fascinating and enlightening weekend watching a live-stream from something called the Wisdom 2.0 summit , from Silicon Valley. Personally, I never gave much thought to the idea of mindfulness/wisdom/spirituality connected with the tech industry. I'm overwhelmed by my ignorance. The industry is crawling with people who care about the world, and about other people, and who do something about it. Who knew?

I don't know how long they'll leave the various videos up on the above-referenced page, but they do say that all of them, plus the ones from last year's conference, will continue to be available online. To find them, start with their home page, then from the drop down menus on the upper right, select media/video.

It's hard to choose one speaker or panel to highlight, because each and every one had much to offer, much to make me think, much to raise my own awareness and already-existing drive to do something with whatever remains of my life to make this world a better place. Still, I can point out some highlights for me personally. You might connect more with the veterans, or the inner-city kids, or any one of the others.

For me, the most powerful talk was that given by Marianne Williamson. In fact, I just watched it again while working out. I don't know who she is -- never heard of her before -- but I sure like what she had to say. She talked largely about addressing the poverty and suffering in the world -- and she issued a challenge to the tech industry that I think will not go unheard (since a whole lot of tech execs were in the room). Powerful. Her talk was Sunday before the lunch break, so you won't have to scroll down too far on the page to find it.

Perhaps the most fascinating, for me, was an interview of Bill Ford (as in Ford Motors) by Jack Kornfield, one of the best meditation teachers this country has known. Turns out they've been friends and teacher/student for 20 years or so, which in and of itself isn't surprising. What's surprising to me is Bill's humanity, his compassion and caring and how he uses that love, compassion, caring and such that he's learned from Jack in his life, and in the way he runs FMC. That's what it's all about, people. Meditating, being spiritual (whether Buddhist, Christian, Jewish, Islamic or secular), sending loving kindness into the world -- all great stuff to do for yourself. But what makes magic out of it is when you take it into your workplace, into your relationships with others, into the world at large, and not in a proselytizing way where you try to convince others that your way is the right way, the only way, but in a way of shining your own love and compassion and caring into the life of every sentient being you encounter, without judgment. Bill Ford is doing that, and the simple knowledge that the CEO of a major corporation in this country is running that corporation from that viewpoint gave me more hope and inspiration for the future of the country than I can say. He battled the board of directors over environmental issues at their plants. He says we need to end our dependence on fossil fuels. An auto manufacturing exec? It's a lengthy talk, but worth the time. It was the final event on Saturday, so you'll have to scroll down a bit to find it.

Another was a young woman named Leah Pearlman. Her talk is short, and sweet, and personal -- expressed with drawings she calls Dharma Comics. It's all about loving yourself -- all parts of yourself, even the mean and ugly parts.  You'll have to scroll past the Bill Ford interview to find it -- I think it was Saturday morning.

So -- have a look, and have a listen. There's something there for everyone.