A work in progress

I generally give a lot of thought to the topics I post here before sharing those thoughts with the world. Be forewarned, that's not necessarily the case today. I'm here in rawness but I hope it's something that might make you think as you read, and that will help cement my own thoughts a bit more.

First of all, if you have ever faced a long setback in your meditation practice, if you have feared that perhaps the ability to meditate and look inwards and see the truth has disappeared and left you floundering, I am here to say, don't give up!  If it's something you care about deeply, desire strongly even while unable to make it happen, don't give up! I've recently begun meditating again after over 3 years of frustration. I had a block -- a bad block. I know where and when it happened, could pinpoint it to the day and hour. I know what seems to have caused it, but I don't know why it put a stop to my interest in and ability to meditate. I just know it did. I tried and tried, to no avail. But now, finally, that block seems to be gone. I'm creeping back into sitting on the cushion for long periods of time. Everything I knew is coming back. Slowly. So please, don't give up!

But here's what I sat down to say today, and I'm going to probably say it wrong. Please forgive me for that, in advance.  Looking inside again, at least in the Buddhist way of doing so, really wakes up the sensitivities to what's going on in one's own mind and how one relates to other people. It's so easy to blame other people for perceived faults and that's something I'm guilty of and have been guilty of for undoubtedly my entire life. But I'm just concerned with today, the present. The past is beyond change and the future is beyond control, so I'm looking at what's happening in my mind in the present. As I've often found when I do that, what I see isn't pretty.

Oh, for the most part I'm content enough with what is there. I've spent a lot of intense years in this practice looking honestly at the workings of this mind and making diligent effort to eradicate the unwholesome aspects and encourage the wholesome, positive aspects. I've made a lot of progress and I'm grateful for that. But what I've found over and over across the span of those years is that there are always new issues, new nuances that rise to the surface because our minds never stop coming up with thoughts. What I've learned is that if we want to walk seriously along this path we have to understand the concept of letting most of those thoughts go as quickly as they arise, because they are just random thoughts, products of the mind and not who we are deep down inside. If negative issues from your past continue to come to mind, letting go is essential. The more attention we pay to these kinds of thoughts, the more we'll see of them. Ignoring them works best.  At other times, though, we have to look more deeply. We have to be honest with ourselves, whether we like what we see or not. Mostly in cases like this, we won't like what we see at all, but that's how we grow, how we take another step down the path.

Without going into detail I'll just say that when we find ourselves looking at another person's perceived personality flaws, even if you've had this viewpoint for years, it doesn't hurt to look inside to see if we are not also 'guilty' of whatever it is that we see in that other person that we don't like. Suffice it to say that I've done that over the past few days and let me tell you, it's something of a shock to realize that yes, I am guilty of the same thing (although, I believe, to a lesser degree in this instance).

Such honesty is not easy, it's not fun. We'd rather look at our positive traits, look at how we want to perceive ourselves, how our egos want to perceive ourselves. But it's the negative (unwholesome) traits that trip us up in life and if we really want to grow, we need to look at them in all their ugliness, with all honesty, and then make the very necessary effort to change that thing within our own heart-mind. I've found that the hardest thing is opening ourselves to seeing the ugliness. Once seen, it's hard to un-see. At that point change -- deep and lasting change -- comes fairly easily. The ego takes a blow, yes, but it recovers. And once the ugliness is seen and replaced with something wholesome (perhaps compassion for the other person's suffering as well as compassion for your own suffering), I find that a dark spot I never knew existed ends up being replaced by lightness and yes, even a happier outlook on life in general. Permanently. A burden is lifted, but you have to see and experience the ugliness before that can happen. So don't be afraid to look at what's there, to ask questions such as 'am I guilty of the same thing I'm blaming the other person for doing'. Be honest. Be brutal. Be happier in the end.

Following right on the heels of that insight was yet another that concerns how I relate (or don't relate) to my neighbors in this building, this community, and indeed that spreads quickly to how I relate (or don't relate) to everyone I meet in this life. This one is still forming, still swirling around in the cesspool. But as unclear and dim as it is, I can clearly see that it's important. That this is yet another thing I have to face with truth and honesty and full understanding and that if I succeed in breaking through into the full truth of this one, something major is going to follow. I don't think it's going to be pretty and it certainly won't be fun, but the results should be worth the effort. I'll probably write more about this as it coalesces into something less subtle, more substantial.

The first insight, about being guilty of what I blame others for doing,  is still a work in process for me but I can see the picture clearly, know what has to be done, and know that it can be done. I've asked the question and seen the answer, have even accepted the answer as the truth. The healing will come.

The second is new territory, though I've faced many other 'new territories' in the past and know that they take longer to come together into something that can be worked with. I also know that it will come together and that it can be worked with. Right now, that's enough. Sea changes of this kind are bigger and deeper and cannot be rushed. There is much swirling around in this heart-mind today, and that's a good thing.

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.

Obstacle as Path, Obstacle as Goal

I learned many years ago to look at difficulties -- difficult situations, difficult people -- that arose in my life and see what I could learn from the situation or the person. There's always something to be learned in every situation, from every person. I made some of my greatest strides along this Path during two years I spent at one particular job, for example. I was fairly new to Buddhism then, but I knew enough to ask myself what I could learn, what the best response was to some difficult people in a difficult situation that I'd been asked to 'help heal' when I was hired.

How to do that? I'm not a healer, in any respect. But I'd been asked to help heal the pre-existing rifts within the business and I turned to metta, or lovingkindness, along with a strong awareness and intention away from making the situation worse through anger or hostility on my own part.  A deep awareness that I'd already begun fostering made this easier, brought the Path front and center in my own consciousness on a daily basis. I had to think before acting. I had to control my own actions and reactions. Merely doing that, and consciously sending thoughts of metta to others, helped the healing process for others and taught me a lot in the process. I had occasion to practice much of the same at a more recent job with different obstacles. Metta always works, although at times it may be difficult to sincerely offer metta to particularly difficult people! That makes it all the more important to practice.

This kind of response to difficult situations and difficult people has become automatic for me, refined by continued learning and experience.  I bring all this up because I've been facing a number of personal difficulties lately -- difficult situations and difficult relationships -- and have found that I need to dig a little deeper, remind myself what's important and what will move me further along this Path I'm following. I find that while it's easy for me to respond in a wholesome manner to one situation at a time, it's far less easy to do it when faced with a multitude!

But doesn't that make it all the more important? I think it does. And I think this is where and how I need to turn now -- have already done so, will continue to do so. Ayya Tathaaloka wrote a wonderful message this past summer on Obstacle as Path, Obstacle as Goal that really affected me at the time, and which I read again yesterday. I encourage you to do the same, as she says it so much better than I.  Much of her writing is so far above my head that I can't begin to grasp the full depths of her words, and that's the case with this one, but even though I don't grasp all of it, I grasp the central message. And that's enough for now.

What are the obstacles in your Path? How do you view them? If you find yourself viewing them as obstacles, try turning that around and viewing them as opportunities. Let go of the fear and stress or anger or whatever emotion may be accompanying the perceived obstacle, look at the obstacle clearly and see if there's a solution hiding within the chaos. Depersonalize whatever is happening. Know that the situation -- whatever it is -- is not permanent. It will change. I find that the kind of change I want to see will happen much more quickly if I simply change my perception -- from Obstacle to Path. Clarity arises. Peace and patience become more prevalent.

These things work for me. I hope they work for you.

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?

Back to square one

When I began this journey a few months back I wanted -- needed -- to be open to the process. Some doors would open, others would close, and the key was to accept whatever happened -- whether internal or external.

From mid-April until about a week ago, I was busily running hither and yon from one Buddhist location to another. As written previously, after the two extraordinary retreats in April I was left with a sense that everything inside had exploded and needed to resettle into some new pattern. Because of previous commitments in May and June, I never really had a chance to let that fully happen. The two scheduled monastery visits only compounded the confusion. I haven't written about either of these because nothing seemed willing or able to settle into anything coherent enough to write.  And truthfully, it still hasn't. Whether or not this post will be coherent remains to be seen, but I finally feel able to begin.

The Austin monastery was, as expected, extraordinary, even in the midst of construction noise and chaos. In a brief conversation with the contractor, he referred to it as a 'five-star monastery', and I have to agree. It's beautiful, and it's luxurious. My kuti was made of stone, with lots of windows, a walk-in closet with built-in drawers, a full bath with double shower, a big corner desk/shelving combo, a small refrigerator, a hot-water dispenser, plus electricity, wireless internet and heat/AC. None that I've ever had or seen elsewhere had any of these features, other than heat. The pagoda and meditation room are exquisite. Life could be good here and the door is open to me to return and stay if I wish. For reasons I haven't fully explored, I have a good bit of hesitancy and resistance to doing that.

Bhavana was as wonderful as always -- perhaps more so because I was there between retreats, as a visitor, and could envision and experience the life of a resident (and of course, that was the point). From past visits, and from speaking with a couple of people I know who have been long-term residents there in the past, I had doubts in the back of my mind going in that I would be physically able to handle the amount/kind of work required without exhaustion. One of these past residents told me 'the residents do all the work there', another told me 'after a day of work I was so tired I couldn't meditate in the evening'. So I was prepared for this -- and in that respect, not disappointed. Being me, I didn't really want to accept this -- thought that with time my body would adjust. On my last day I had a long talk with Bhante G and he said that we must always face reality in these things, and the reality is that they need 'strong, young bodies', particularly in the winter. He was open to me being a resident in the summer, but even then, my experience is that the work is tiring. So, while that door is not totally closed for me, it certainly is closed for any long-term residency. And I'm OK with that.

I found that I experienced similar reactions upon return from each visit -- fatigue (and I think, some deep inner disappointment/discouragement that I haven't fully explored) that was all-encompassing. In each case, I slept seemingly around the clock for a week or more, then emerged into whatever passes for normal.  Today is the first day of that emergence from the Bhavana visit.The good news in this is that even through the fatigue and laziness of these two experiences, my inner work continued (whether I wanted it to or not), and my long-established habit of inner awareness caught all the nuances of what was popping up in my mind. I've seen hints of things I don't necessarily want to -- but of course need to -- explore more deeply. Such explorations take more energy than I have yet, but eventually I will be driven to actually sit on my cushion and take a hard look. When my mind is ready for that, it'll happen.

The one thing I have learned is that my fantasy of being homeless, driving hither and yon across country, down into Mexico and back up here to spend time in various monasteries, is just not reality for me because I simply don't have the energy for it. I can drive long days (12 hours coming home from Bhavana), but even shorter days with overnight stops are tiring. I can't begin to envision doing this intentionally day after day, year-round. Even if there are periods of 6-months between trips. As Bhante G said, we must face reality in these things, and the reality for me is that my body is simply too old for such things. Not everyone at 70 is this 'old', and not everyone at 70 is this 'young', but this is clearly something I cannot do.

So -- back to square one. What do I do? Two monasteries are open to me, but I'm as yet not comfortable with long-term residency at either. There are compelling reasons to not stay where I am (as well as compelling reasons to do just that).

What I've decided for now is to just sit tight until all this settles down before making any decisions. I'm still open to any doors that open to me, but fortunately there's no need to rush into anything.

Cosmic explosions of the mind

Springtime at Southern Dharma, a few days ago

This is one of those times where I literally don't know where to begin. There is so much I want to say, but where to begin? It doesn't help that my mind is still reeling a bit from having attended two intense retreats with a week-long break between the two. In all honesty, I can't say that I had fully assimilated the first one before it was time to turn around and drive back to Southern Dharma. And I certainly haven't assimilated either at this point -- only a  couple of days after leaving Southern Dharma the second time. When the mind is so fully affected, it feels as if it's almost had a little cosmic explosion and the pieces are settling down again in a different pattern. I'm sure a neurologist could explain it, but that little description is the best I can do.

I can, however, say one thing with full certainty: I am even more fully drawn to living in a monastic setting where I can meditate and learn. The only question now is, which one?  And that answer will need to wait for a couple of months, until I've visited the two remaining locations, and explored options at each.

Ayya Sobhana on the land at Aranya Bodhi

I also know with the deepest part of my heart that I am truly blessed to know these two extraordinary women, to have them as teachers and even as friends.  The two couldn't be more different -- Ayya Sobhana is as American as the proverbial apple pie, outgoing and no-nonsense but kind and patient and certainly well-trained by Bhante Gunaratana at the Bhavana Society. She is filled with wisdom, an excellent teacher with a wonderful sense of humor. Sayalay Susila, on the other hand, is Asian through-and-through. More reserved, quieter, very much an inner person whose years of deep meditation in a Burmese forest monastery under the training of Pa Auk Sayadaw are reflected in her wisdom, her demeanor and bearing. Her knowledge of the Abhidhamma and higher absorptions seems limitless. She is a truly gifted teacher.

Sayalay Susila at Bhavana, August 2011

Between these two retreats and teachers, many of the questions I've posed in previous posts here have been answered. That's no doubt why my mind feels slightly discombobulated. It really has been tossed around and reassembled.

When I mentioned my realization of dissatisfaction and that I had begun accepting and being content with whatever happens (saying 'yes') to Sister Susila, she said that was falling away of ego -- something very much to be desired in Buddhism. It certainly continues to feel good. Much of the time we spent together was spent in catching up, more than discussing the current retreat, which was fine. I really didn't have any questions -- I just needed the time and perhaps her presence to let the mind settle down and attain concentration, which it did. I just wanted to talk to her, ask questions unrelated to the retreat. There was not enough time, of course, but hours and days would not have been enough time. I am overjoyed with the amount of time I did have, and overjoyed that I am able to continue to work with her, help her with transcriptions and editing, and am able to ask her a question anytime there is something I feel is important enough to bother her. She will always answer, although I rarely ask.

From a practice standpoint, I gained deeply from both retreats. However, there were more 'breakthroughs' at the one taught by Ayya Sobhana, the subject of which was handling emotions the Buddha's way. Through her teaching I finally, finally found that spot deep inside where the lack of love and caring for myself dwelt, and the door opened, the answer revealed with a big rush of love and acceptance.  On another evening in deep concentration of an unusual sort my entire body 'disappeared'. I've had several occasions over the past 2 or more years where the inside of the body changed into something entirely different. The first time it was masses of tiny bubbles, moving around and popping. The next two times were last fall at Goenka, with different manifestations. In all three of these cases, I still 'saw' the shape of the body, the form, the skin. Only the inside disappeared. On this recent occasion, however, it all disappeared. Kind of faded away bit by random bit until nothing was left. This sounds strange if you  haven't experienced it, but as Sister Susila has said, the concentrated mind does some very strange things and these experiences are not unusual for those who practice concentration. She wanted to know exactly what I was practicing when that happened, because it was truly relevant.

The third big event to happen at Ayya Sobhana's retreat was the arising of compassion. All at once, in a huge rush, at the moment she told us about the bombing in Boston. I recognized it in the moment for what it was, knowing fully that it was more profound than mere reaction to the news. It has lasted, and grown, and is clearly a double-edged sword. When I saw others at the last retreat through the eyes of compassion, at times I could feel their suffering, and feel it deeply. That really changed how I regarded these people, and made me wonder if I could even handle feeling that much suffering, if I even wanted to feel the suffering of others so deeply. I don't think I have much choice in that matter, so it simply has to be accepted.

Two different teachers. Two different retreat subjects. Mind-boggling results for me in both cases.

Just say 'Yes'

I had an interesting -- and not generally pleasant -- year last year, from a Dhamma practice standpoint. I think these downturns are normal enough and even to be expected, especially when we run up against something we don't want to see.  I ran into that 'something' during the year-end retreat at Bhavana in December of 2011, and lived in a bit of turmoil until just recently. Things are beginning to come together again now, thankfully.

It's so hard to pinpoint exactly when something happens that sends the mind off in some irrevocable direction, but I think last year it happened to me at Aranya Bodhi when another lay resident came in a couple of days after my arrival. Her name was Geri, and she made a real impression on me. She'd quit her job, left her life, at the beginning of the year after some spiritual experience the previous summer. She had 'gone forth' much as monastics do, but without actually becoming a monastic. She was following her own path aimed at helping short-term at various meditation centers or monastic sites. (Sound familiar?) Last I heard, she was traveling with a Buddhist nun to perhaps Nepal. Not surprisingly, her influence was strong when I began thinking of also 'going forth' in my own manner. But what I think made the biggest difference in me was that she said she wanted to spend a year or two or however long just saying yes to everything. Yes to helping however she could. Yes to everything she encountered along the way. Even then, I wondered how that would feel, and her words were never far from my thoughts then or over the ensuing months.

Fast forward a few months and after thinking about Geri's words and much more, I began to realize just how often I said no in my life. How dissatisfied I was with everything I encountered along my way. I don't think I've always been that way -- or, at least not as completely so -- but I've certainly done my share of whining and complaining about things I didn't like in life, from time to time. During the past year or so that's been particularly the case, I found, and particularly (though far from exclusively) at meditation retreats. I didn't like the room, or the roommate. It was too hot, or too cold. Too many stairs to climb. I didn't like the bathroom arrangements. Or the food. Or whatever. And I didn't like much around here either, for that matter.

So, I sat with that realization for awhile, ugly as it was and as much as I didn't like facing the truth, then decided that I, like Geri, would start saying yes to everything. Every tiny little thing that came up in daily life. At first, old habit patterns continued to arise, but I was on the lookout for them and quickly turned dissatisfaction (no) to satisfaction (yes). Soon, the new patterns were firmly in place and now it's become automatic. And I can't tell you how much happier I am in general as a result.

The real test came last week, with the driving, the retreat center, the retreat itself. All of these are things that in the past would have bristled with opportunities for dissatisfaction, but with the new change in attitude, those same opportunities consciously became opportunities for satisfaction. I saw it daily, multiple times daily, and was always glad to see the yes reaction come up, each and every time. It was a form of acceptance for whatever was happening in that moment.

I'm not a Buddhist scholar, certainly, but it seems to me that dissatisfaction is a subtle form of greed -- wanting something to be different from what it is. Every time I think I've conquered greed, I find a new and different nuance, such as this dissatisfaction. I'm pretty sure this particular one is cured -- I like saying yes, and it makes the lives of people I encounter much better, too.

I have a feeling that this new acceptance has blossomed in 'woo-woo' (karmic) spiritual ways, too. When I returned, I found that doors have opened -- in Austin for May, at Bhavana for June, and at of course always (and with much gratitude) at Aranya Bodhi anytime I wish to join them. For now, that's enough. I'll go through the first two doors, then see what happens next. The pull to Aranya Bodhi is stronger than ever, but....only time will tell. As Ayya Sobhana so wisely counseled, I need to decide where I can best learn and grow in the Dhamma, and that may not necessarily be the fanciest, or the one with the most famous teacher. But that's all for the future. For now, I'm getting ready to return to Southern Dharma in a couple of days for a retreat with Sayalay Susila.  And very much looking forward to seeing her again.