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.

The Other 1%: Make a Difference

Lotus window at Southern Dharma

Although the retreat at Southern Dharma from which I just returned was likely the best and most personally productive I've ever attended, and while I made many great personal gains in insight and clarity during those 5 days, that's all been somewhat overshadowed by the turbulent issues and events of the past week.

Ayya Sobhana's wisdom is far-reaching, beyond Buddhism and yet connected in that Buddhism teaches peace, non-anger, non-killing and similar moral values that are an integral part of the practice. During her Dhamma talk one evening -- I think this was the night before she broke the news to us about the bombs in Boston, but after she knew it had happened -- she talked about many things including some studies that indicate what percentage of any size group is enough to effect a change in the entire group. That she is able to rattle off these studies and statistics from the top of her head amazed all of us, and she did so seemingly every day.

I can't begin to quote the statistics, or who did the study, or anything else, but what did stick in my head was that a mere 1% of people who inhabit this planet is enough to make a change. Enough to sway away from anger and towards peace. Enough to stop the proliferation of war and violence. Enough to save the planet from environmental destruction, from disease destruction, from war destruction. Only one percent!

Are you part of that one percent? I like to think I am -- all Buddhists are, because all Buddhists practice peace, compassion, non-violence, non-greed, care for the earth and the beings (all living beings, not just humans) who inhabit it. Individually, we are just one voice. Together, we can make up that one percent and maybe grow it beyond one percent.

I'm not talking only to and about Buddhists here. I am well aware that there are many caring, peace-loving, non-violent people in this world who are not Buddhists. I know many personally. This is not a faith-based issue, or a red/blue state political issue. It's not only an American issue. It's a human issue. An earth issue. What kind of world do you want your kids or grandkids to inherit? Are you willing to sit by and watch anger, aggression and fear from far corners of the earth (including right here in Washington DC) lead to nuclear annihilation? Is that what you want for your kids and grandkids? It has to stop. And people who work from a place of love, rather than a place of fear and hate, will be the ones to stop it. Hatred and anger will never work. Hatred engenders more hatred. Love and acceptance engenders more love and acceptance.

Practice peace. Practice non-violence. Step away from greed. Make taking care of our earth's ecosystem part of your life. Give it some importance. Support groups who do all these things. It doesn't take much time or money -- it just takes an intention to make a difference. Practice compassion, as in these words Ayya Sobhana used to lead us in meditation after telling us about Boston. I've shortened it a bit to merely include all beings in one paragraph. She led us in far more detail, but this is really all you need to know. Are you willing to be part of this one percent?

May all beings be freed from anger

May all beings be freed from hatred

May all beings be freed from fear

May all beings take care of themselves, happily

or, another chant she taught us and used daily at lunch:

May the suffering be free from suffering

May the fear-struck be fear from fear

May the grieving be free from grief,

So too may all beings be.

Supporting our bhikkhunis

In Asian countries where Buddhism has existed as an integral part of culture and religion for centuries, a symbiotic relationship exists between lay people and monastics, and it's a system that benefits both. Monastics live under strict rules of renunciation -- not allowed to have or spend money, or accumulate or buy food, for example. Monastics in Asia rely upon lay people for their daily food and the people -- even the poorest of them -- are happy to share what food they have with the monastics. Similarly, other necessities of life are subject to donation from lay people, and the lay people are happy to share.

Buddhism is relatively new in this country, brought to the forefront primarily by a number of western young people who went to Asia to study Buddhism with great masters, in various countries. After years of study, these westerners returned to the USA, established for-profit meditation centers, wrote best-selling books and generally introduced Theravadan Buddhism to the masses. There's nothing wrong with any of that -- I'm personally grateful that they did so because this is how I was first introduced to the practice that changed my life. Without them, I would no doubt still be floundering in despair.

I began to gravitate to pure monastic training and life quite some years ago -- at first this was probably because I could never afford to go to the for-profit centers, but now I prefer monastics for the purity of the teachings. Burmese, Sri Lankan, and some Thai monastics teach the purist form of the Buddha's words. Monasteries, in the ancient tradition of the Buddha, do not charge for teaching the words of the Buddha. As they've done for centuries, they rely upon dana, or generosity, for support. Most monasteries in this country, from what I can see, are part of some large Asian community that understands the symbiotic relationship, knows that without the help of the lay community the monasteries could not exist. The Bhavana Society in West Virginia, for example, was established over 30 years ago through the dana of a large Sri Lankan community in the Washington, DC and Baltimore areas. It's one of the oldest teaching monasteries in this country, and while students who attend retreats offer dana and support, I expect that it's still the Sri Lankan community that provides the largest ongoing support.

In recent years, other such places have been or are in the process of being established around the country.  Some that I'm aware of are located near and supported by specific Asian communities. There are certainly others whose support resources I know nothing about.

Establishing a monastic center staffed with western monastics and supported largely by western lay people is dicey, because we have not grown up with that symbiotic relationship -- the deep knowledge that without our ongoing support, the monastic community cannot exist. The nuns at Aranya Bodhi in California stay uppermost in my mind in this regard. They were blessed with many donations initially, but it was as if in the western mind one donation was enough. There are some who donate regularly, others who donate sporadically, but the need for support is ongoing, each and every month. Because they are developing a new location with new facilities, deep in the redwoods, expenses are greater than basic maintenance. You can read more about them and my visit with them last summer here.

The purpose of this post is to urge any of you who have benefited from Buddhist teachings to consider offering dana to these nuns -- or to any needy monastic community. Even if you haven't had Buddhist teachings and can afford to give money to good purposes, or simply want a tax write-off, I hope you'll consider donating. A regular monthly donation in whatever amount you can afford is best for their purposes -- but one-time donations are equally welcome. I want to see these nuns succeed in their goal, which is to provide a place for Theravadan Buddhist nuns to dwell, be ordained and teach, and for lay women to dwell and serve and learn. The abbess and prioress both have many years of excellent practice behind them, both are wise and gifted teachers with much to impart to the rest of  us. If you can help, please visit the Dhammadharini donations page and choose whatever method you prefer. I personally prefer not to use Network for Good because of the rather steep fees they charge. Other avenues ensure that every cent you donate goes directly to the Hermitage.

There's an extra, added benefit to such dana, too.  I know from personal experience that when you give to others from your heart, you also feel better. Everybody benefits.

May you have all good blessings for your generosity.

Letting go

The process of letting go is so difficult for most of us -- and yet so very necessary if we want to move forward. I'm often reminded of the Buddha's words on this.

Let go of the past, let go of the future, let go of the present, and cross over to the farther shore of existence.
With mind wholly liberated,
you shall come no more to birth and death.

Dhammapada 24.348

Simple words, but like so many of the Buddha's simple words, far from easy to do -- yet completely possible to do. The Buddha also said somewhere that he would never ask us to do what is not possible, to do what he himself had not done. The degree of difficulty in these things, I believe, has to do with one's own individual life circumstance -- karma, if you will.

Over the years I've let go of countless things -- mostly thoughts and perceptions and ideas that left me mired in mud, unable to move forward, and countless long-held emotions and sorrows and resentments. I do have a tendency to obsess over things from time to time -- perhaps regrets over past actions, or replaying/rewriting past conversations, for example. I give equal obsession time to future plans and conversations and worrying about whatever's going on in the present. Oddly enough, it seems that these are the things that most people think about when they're sitting in meditation and can't concentrate their minds. Somehow I found that fact to be comforting when I first heard it, years ago. It's always good to know that I'm not alone in my craziness.

Despite all the past practice, I keep needing to be reminded that letting go -- regardless of the situation -- is best and easiest in the long run. What we're letting go of, of course, is attachment to a person, place, thing, idea, emotions and feelings and so on. It's the attachment, the craving and desire for that person, place, thing, idea, emotion or feeling that makes letting go difficult and keeps us in the round of suffering.

I make good use of letting go daily in small situations, but lately, I've had good opportunity to put it into practice in more major situations once again. When I first let go of the fear of 'going forward' into intentional homelessness, I had a couple of specific ideas about where I'd go and what I'd do -- for me, that was necessary in order to feel a level of comfort with the process. Without realizing it, I became attached to those ideas, despite wanting to be free with the process -- to 'go with the flow', so to speak.

Last week, I found myself all wrapped up in fear about this. Full of what if's. What if the monastery in Austin doesn't invite me to visit at all, and even if they invite me to visit, what if they don't invite me to spend time as a resident there? Oh dear, oh dear. What will I do then? I can't live in Mexico year-round! What if I end up not being accepted at any monastery as a resident? What if none of them wants me? You get the picture. A whole roiling wave of 'what ifs' that stayed with me for a few days.

Fortunately, through meditation I realized that I needed to simply let go of trying to control what the monasteries will or will not do. I also opted to look more closely at monasteries other than the one in Austin, and that flowed into simply letting go completely.  Instead of worrying and trying to control the situation, I'll wait and see what doors open -- and close -- first, and go from there. That left me in a good state of peace about the process once again.

The letting go of material things is a different process, yet related. I lost all difficulty with that about two years ago during a deep meditative experience which I'll write about someday. At that point, I stopped buying things that weren't necessary -- dropped the 'I wants' forever. More recently, I've begun the process of decluttering my house as I prepare to move on to a new life. Most books are gone (or waiting to be sent to friends). Bags of paper from files have gone to recycling, five boxes of general 'stuff' has gone to Goodwill. More has simply gone into the trash. Some things -- particularly some books -- were harder to let go of than others, but with every bag and box and book that's left the house, I've felt more and more free. It's a wonderful feeling and I look forward to letting go of more and more 'stuff'. Emotional stuff as well as material stuff.

And who knows -- maybe none of the monasteries will invite me to become a resident. In that case, I'll look to other options, other possibilities. Six months in Baja would be a good start. In the meantime, I'll rest in comfort with the knowledge that at least I have a confirmed visit to Austin in May. After that -- well, I'll worry about that then.

Opening to life

Greetings, friends. Yes, I have been quiet. Nothing has coalesced into the need to be expressed, but that will happen. Be patient.

In the meantime, I want to point you to something I just discovered a few days ago, and urge you to read it. Cultivating Self-Affection During Tricky Times, by Dr. Cara Barker.

For me, it was a great follow-up on my last post, as I struggle for self-acceptance, affection, love and compassion.

Cara's writing -- with its sense of true caring and love being imparted to the reader as an individual -- is magical. See if you don't agree.

Are you kind to yourself? If so, how? If not, why?

This question arose for me yesterday. I don't remember what started it, but at some point early in the day I decided I was going to spend the day being kind to myself and that opened up a really big, ugly hornet's nest that's still swarming.

Some of the ways I've liked to be kind to myself in the past included long, lazy stretches in the steam room at the DAC in Eugene, or a nice massage at a nearby spa (usually preceded by a lazy stretch in the steam room at the DAC). Or a drive to the coast for some good fish & chips (or even some good fish & chips in town, for that matter) and a walk on a beach -- any beach, even if it was cold and wet. Maybe a drive into the mountains for some hiking, or waterfall watching, or just being.

None of that is available to me here, even if I had the money for a massage, for example. Especially on a Sunday. I couldn't think of one thing to do for myself that would be a kindness, a small bit of pampering. That realization brought on the hornet's nest. And saddened me. How could that be? My mind kept trying to draw me in to give this some serious consideration, but I carefully and intentionally avoided the whole idea. No meditation, no time without music or other sound, no time not reading, or doing crosswords, or wasting time on the internet. I just couldn't look at this. Didn't want to look at it.

By this morning I was willing to sit with it for awhile in meditation -- with no answers. Then I walked to the library -- walking is one of the best times for me to think. I began seeing ways that I was hard on myself, unkind to myself. I tried writing down a list of the ways I'm unkind to myself, but only came up with general categories that I know are filled with countless specific examples. I have a list of 'shoulds' and 'shouldn'ts' a mile long. I criticize myself (anytime I'm not perfect, which is all the time), I deny myself foods I like (but I don't want to gain weight, so how do I work with that one?). Is it any wonder I don't know how to be kind to myself?

If we're not kind to ourselves, how can we accept kindness from others? How can we be kind to others? It's like loving yourself, or holding yourself in compassion. It has to come from the inside first -- but for so many of us it's the hardest thing to do. I've found that I don't even know how to do it, especially when I live in isolation in a place that doesn't offer much in the way of opportunities for pampering. It shouldn't (there's that word again!) be all about pampering anyway, should it? There's something deeper -- I just haven't quite dug it out yet.

Open up your awareness. Listen to your own inner voice, self-talk, and listen closely. How often is it filled with shoulds and shouldn'ts, criticism, judging, and other negativities aimed at yourself? If it is -- rebel!  Consciously do the opposite. Indulge the whim. Ignore the criticism. When you hear 'I shouldn't' do this or that -- do it anyway! You want that piece of chocolate? Eat it! Your body doesn't feel like a hard workout today? Let it rest! And above all -- don't feel guilty for any of it. Try this for a week or so, see if you feel any better.

That's what I'm going to do.

What is compassion, and how do we get it

What is compassion? I think we probably all have an intellectual understanding of the word, a dictionary definition along the lines of 'Deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it,' or words to that effect.  Some of us seem to have it, others not so much. I've been one of the latter, and that in itself has been the subject of much meditation, much effort to correct, much concern, much questioning. A good Buddhist is compassionate, after all. Why was this so lacking in me? I had a major breakthrough on this subject this morning in meditation. But before I get into that, I want to explore the subject a little more.

First of all, I've learned over the years that you can't just decide to be compassionate, or beg and plead for compassion to arise. For most of us, it's inherently either there or not there. Some people seem born with great amounts of compassion. Many of these seem to gravitate to helping professions of one kind or another. Others use their innate compassion within their families or friends. I know many people who have great compassion. The rest of us struggle with it (even if we don't know we are doing so).

In my case, I've always had great compassion for animals of all kinds, and have had moments and times of great compassion for the suffering of those humans that I loved. I'm capable of generalized compassion for people around the world suffering from one weather phenomenon or another, or starving because of corrupt governments. But most of the time, I've learned that I was so wrapped up in my own struggles and sufferings that I simply didn't see the struggles and sufferings of others for what they were.

One thing that seems to be consistently taught in Buddhism and other spiritual practices concerns love: without love for oneself, how can one love another? Some teachers that I respect say that compassion springs from love -- including the idea that compassion for oneself springs from love for oneself. That's something else I lack, although I've had some cracks in that armor in recent months. And that probably explains the dearth of compassion for others that I've come to see so clearly. It's also said that compassion ripens over the course of our practice, as wisdom grows and we see things more clearly.

In A Path With Heart, Jack Kornfield talks about an exercise he often uses with groups. First, he asks them to reflect upon death, to imagine themselves at the end of their lives. Then, he asks them to look back over their lives and bring to mind two good deeds that they have done. Most people, he says, come up with small things. He says 'the things that matter most in our lives are not fantastic or grand. They are the moments when we touch one another, when we are there in the most attentive or caring way'.  Some people, he says, find this exercise very difficult. No good deeds come to mind, or if something does arise, it's immediately rejected. We judge ourselves too harshly.  I fall into that category -- although deep in my heart I know I've done many good deeds, I've never had any arise when I try that exercise. I am my worst enemy, my harshest judge, my strongest critic.

A couple of years ago I was listening to Sayalay Susila in an online recording where she talked about how shocked she was when she first began teaching in the West to see how few of us actually love ourselves. She said that in Malaysia, where she's from, and other Asian countries, everybody loves themselves.  In my mind, there must be some crucial sense of self or nurturing that children in those countries receive, compared to the way children are raised in the West.  To help us learn to love ourselves, she offered some metta phrases that I've used often over the last couple of years, although I'm not really sure how much they've helped. Part of the problem has been that I've simply been unable to wish these kind thoughts upon myself. I could mouth the words, or think the words, but there wasn't much sincerity behind them. Still, I keep them taped to my computer monitor and I use them lots in meditation:

May I love myself just as I am,

May I sense my worthiness and well-being,

May I trust this world,

May I hold myself in compassion,

May I meet the suffering and ignorance of others with compassion.

Note how that pesky word 'compassion' sneaks in there. I guess you really can't have one without the other. But how do you get them?

Many years ago I remember reading in one of Jack Kornfield's books a method of doing this. He suggested that you close your eyes and imagine that your adult self is holding your child self in a deep, loving embrace. I could do that -- envision an old photograph of myself as a child and hold that child closely cuddled in my lap, see her suffering, and offer her love and compassion, but it was pretty limited and certainly not lasting. It's much easier to find compassion for a suffering child than it is to have compassion for -- or even see -- the suffering of the adult who 'ought to be able to handle such things'. The sad truth is that most of us can't handle our suffering on our own, other than by ignoring, covering up, self-medicating or perhaps going off into the darkness of depression. And make no mistake, we are all suffering in one way or another. Back to Jack Kornfield's method, I tried it for awhile but eventually stopped because it didn't seem to be making any difference.

Fast forward a lot of years. Since listening to Sayalay's talk I've used  her metta phrases countless times, in and out of meditation. I've used other metta phrases in the same way. Trying hard to find even small glimpses of love for myself, compassion for myself. Last March I attended a metta retreat at Southern Dharma taught by Ayya Sobhana, of Aranya Bodhi in California. I've studied and used metta for years, but this was my first actual metta retreat. Following the usual format she had us choose various people in our lives as examples of the various categories of people we wished to send metta to during the week. A respected teacher or mentor, a good friend, a loved one, a neutral person, and an enemy -- and oneself. What I learned the most during that week -- and it brought great sorrow to me at the time -- was that I could not find love for myself at all, nor could I even choose one person in my life who stood out as a 'loved one'.  It was a sobering week for me and frankly, not a great deal has changed.

There have, however, been small steps. I have great compassion for the nuns at Aranya Bodhi, for example. I see and feel the struggles of their daily lives in rather primitive surroundings (they don't see it as such -- in fact they are thriving and happy), and I have a strong wish to alleviate and ease some of their struggles and suffering (as seen through my eyes). Last fall, driving home after 3 weeks at the Southeast Vipassana Center in south Georgia, my mind and body were suddenly overwhelmed with a glowing sense of well-being, happiness and something new that was unmistakably love for myself. That deep realization, the glow, the wonderment of it all, stayed with me most of the way home. So this is what it feels like!

Eventually the glow wore off, as these moments inevitably do, but there was a crack in the wall. A big one. In recent weeks of meditation I've begun each morning meditation with lots of metta -- aimed mostly at myself in an effort to widen the crack. I began speaking the words aloud, softly, in an effort to better sense their meaning, and to keep my mind from wandering. There have been days when I've felt the walls go down -- but in time they always go back up, although I do believe they become weaker with each incident and will eventually be swept away completely. Part of these recent meditations included something else I recently learned somewhere -- probably from Jack Kornfield again, perhaps others -- which is to envision myself wrapped in love and compassion as I spoke these metta phrases. Not surprisingly, I had some difficulties with that, but there were enough small successes to keep me trying.

This morning I went back to Jack's original advice -- the adult me and the child me. After the years of study and effort, I was indeed able to see and feel the suffering of this small child I was holding. I remembered how she suffered, how unhappy she was, and I was filled with compassion for her suffering, could wrap myself in that compassion, deeply. I stayed with that for awhile, then one of those magical moments/insights we look for in our practice arose and I suddenly saw very clearly the connection that exists between that young, suffering 'me' and all others. I saw that all children suffer in one way or another, just as all children take that suffering with them into their adult lives in one way or another. The deep compassion I was feeling for the child 'me' spread instantly and naturally outward to all others around the world and my mind and body were filled with a wonderful, indeed physical, glow that encompassed peace, equanimity, love, compassion and all sorts of other feelings. I literally felt this glow moving outward to others, wrapping them just as it wrapped myself. It was such an extraordinary moment that I just stayed with it for the balance of the hour, knowing its value and importance, wanting to absorb as much of it as I could.

It wasn't the most important insight/experience I've had in my practice, but it ranks right up there -- especially if it actually makes a noticeable, lasting change. I can only hope that this was powerful enough to shatter barriers forever. Only time will tell, but today feels really, really good.