I'm a Buddhist - just not a practicing Buddhist
Excuse me?
I mean I don't really meditate, as a dedicated practice, but I really resonate with the teachings I've heard. I went on a Buddhist retreat, read a few books and I have a meditation CD set by … I just don't make the time to sit and get quiet, on a regular basis.
Hmm. I see. Well … I'm on this polo team, but I really don't swim; although, I've watched lots of games, many in person, I know all the best players and coaches, and I'm a regular subscriber of “WP Weekly”. I'm also in the pilot's union, although I don't actually fly. But I have heard several pilots talk in great detail about what it's like to do so and what they'd learned while doing it. And as soon as life settles down a bit I plan to ...
Oh, come on. That's not the same at all.
Because?
Because I'm talking about a religious conviction.
So, you profess a conviction to your religion – which, as it so happens, is built around fostering beneficent attitudes and ethics by means of Self exploration and discovery through the regular practice of meditation – and you don't meditate.
Look. I try to speak kindly to others. I recycle. I'm a regular donor to the “Save the Opossums” foundation. And I've even been thinking about knocking the cobwebs off of my bicycle to lesson my carbon footprint.
Excellent. Following the “rules of conduct” is a good place to start, but it's so easy to get mired in the rules, rites and protocols that you lose touch with the core intentions of the tradition.
Isn't meditating just another rite?
Yes. The same way that reading is an archaic ritual for those who subscribe to the news paper.
But you have to read if you want to learn from the paper. There's lots of ways to learn about Buddhism.
But learning about Buddhism's not the same as learning about your inner most nature, is it?
No. I suppose not.
And the intention of Buddhism is for one to do just that, is it not?
Well, primarily. But just look around. How many people profess an allegiance to other religions and only attend to the most superficial levels of their traditions? Aren't you applying higher standards here, than you would to them?
Not at all. Anyone who exhibits a shallow display of conviction is in the same boat. And, the “He was doing it, too.” argument didn't fly with your mom. What makes you think it'll work now?
Geeze! Why am I defending myself here?
My apologies. I really don't intend to be offensive. I'm just trying to make sense of your fist statement - “I'm alive, I just don't breath”.
(The evil eye is cast.)
OK. I admit it. That was a bit of a poke. I just couldn't resist.
Joining any religion should be about more than merging into a crowd and following the rules. Ideally, it should be about fostering a yearning to know the “mind of god” and diligently pursuing this ever evasive end.
But that kind of open ended pursuit sounds really extreme and grueling to me.
It does seem that way to one quadrant of the mind. But this is the same part that imagines stability everywhere, in a world where everything is always changing. Life is a mystery. The universe is unfathomable. So a major component in any religious quest is to come to terms with the constantly fluxing and ungraspable nature of reality.
Seeing the truth of universal interconnectedness and feeling compassion to every single being are two other major facets. These tend to come naturally to those who step behind the curtain of their constructed selves and free the divine spark that fuels their own being.
Why do I feel like you just dropped an anvil on my brain?
(Laughs) Because you're trying to take it all in through your intellect, which doesn't do unfathomable.
But that's how I process things. I mean, how else am I supposed to think?
Hmmm, I see. If you want the answer to that, perhaps you should consider practicing meditation.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Looking Up
I was sitting at a light, front of the line, left turn lane in my Falcon van. The light changed, I dropped it in gear, gave it a little gas and went to let out the clutch. As the clutch was sticking at the time, it held and then let go in a lurch, causing the engine to stall. Not the first time, so I wasn't surprised or upset, but did have a knee jerk “Doh!” moment.
Within seconds, I fired it up, put it back in gear and started pulling into the intersection ... just as a big white van came barreling through the red light, narrowly missing my nose.
Why, I wonder, do I thank the sky?
Within seconds, I fired it up, put it back in gear and started pulling into the intersection ... just as a big white van came barreling through the red light, narrowly missing my nose.
Why, I wonder, do I thank the sky?
Reploying
I know that many consider my words to be dry and exceedingly intellectual. In fact, I'm very passionate about what I say. I just choose my words and organize my thoughts carefully. Because, dealing with such ethereal and esoteric subjects, it's natural and easy for the reader to bend my meanings to conform to their own preconceptions. So, I endeavor to be as clear and concise as possible. But I fear that I fail to really connect with many of my readers, because my writing sounds overly heady.
Obviously, I can't force feed knowledge and/or understanding to anyone. Some may be seeking what I have to offer and benefit from hearing it, or re-hearing it in another way. And for most of them, I'd like to imagine that my traditional course of delivery would still work fairly well. But that's a pretty small segment of the population. Some have seen glimpses of the un-self within, but don't feel coaxed into pursuing its wonders; and, some simply have no idea that there's another way of seeing and being, at all. Both of these latter groups would most likely walk right by my teachings with out so much as a glance. (It should be understood that I don't expect the average Joe to absorb everything in my weightier writings immediately, or the first time through. And I hope that they're thought provoking enough to inspire re-readings to clarify and congeal their messages.)
Others verbal interpretations of their unspeakable experiences can be clarifying and reassuring, but if one's not familiar with such experiences, the words may confuse more than communicate. My recent thinking is that it's more important for me to convey inspiration than facts. After all, it's well known that learning is more effective when one discovers the lessons on their own. In fact, some things can't be taught - only experienced.
What I need to do is inspire whimsical curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. To make people want to connect to themselves, their lives and other beings. To entice them to feel more fully and to share of themselves more freely. To shift their focus out of their minds and into the world, out of their little lives and into the greater unfolding.
So, how to generate emotional inspiration in others? How to touch the right brain by communicating to the verbal left? How to express the expansive nature of being in the moment to those who only live inside of their heads? How to awaken, in others, what they've forgotten is their natural state? How to easily break the news, that the self who was tempted into the journey has to surrender its heavy handed command before the promised rewards will be received?
And, if I'm to be a hard core pitchman for self exploration and discovery: How do I maintain my sincerity and integrity as I fabricate lures designed to invite people into finding the genuine articles that the lures pretend to be? I've seen what this can lead to. Clearly, I'm treading along the rim of a steep precipice here. The more fanciful and enticing I make the lures, the more the intangibles appear to be a part of the ordinary world, and the greater the illusion that it's all for, and accessible to, the ordinary mind.
So, I'm stoking the fires under my creative juices, even as I write this. It's unlikely that I'll discard my old ways entirely; but please, do pardon my play as I experiment with other modes of delivery.
Obviously, I can't force feed knowledge and/or understanding to anyone. Some may be seeking what I have to offer and benefit from hearing it, or re-hearing it in another way. And for most of them, I'd like to imagine that my traditional course of delivery would still work fairly well. But that's a pretty small segment of the population. Some have seen glimpses of the un-self within, but don't feel coaxed into pursuing its wonders; and, some simply have no idea that there's another way of seeing and being, at all. Both of these latter groups would most likely walk right by my teachings with out so much as a glance. (It should be understood that I don't expect the average Joe to absorb everything in my weightier writings immediately, or the first time through. And I hope that they're thought provoking enough to inspire re-readings to clarify and congeal their messages.)
Others verbal interpretations of their unspeakable experiences can be clarifying and reassuring, but if one's not familiar with such experiences, the words may confuse more than communicate. My recent thinking is that it's more important for me to convey inspiration than facts. After all, it's well known that learning is more effective when one discovers the lessons on their own. In fact, some things can't be taught - only experienced.
What I need to do is inspire whimsical curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. To make people want to connect to themselves, their lives and other beings. To entice them to feel more fully and to share of themselves more freely. To shift their focus out of their minds and into the world, out of their little lives and into the greater unfolding.
So, how to generate emotional inspiration in others? How to touch the right brain by communicating to the verbal left? How to express the expansive nature of being in the moment to those who only live inside of their heads? How to awaken, in others, what they've forgotten is their natural state? How to easily break the news, that the self who was tempted into the journey has to surrender its heavy handed command before the promised rewards will be received?
And, if I'm to be a hard core pitchman for self exploration and discovery: How do I maintain my sincerity and integrity as I fabricate lures designed to invite people into finding the genuine articles that the lures pretend to be? I've seen what this can lead to. Clearly, I'm treading along the rim of a steep precipice here. The more fanciful and enticing I make the lures, the more the intangibles appear to be a part of the ordinary world, and the greater the illusion that it's all for, and accessible to, the ordinary mind.
So, I'm stoking the fires under my creative juices, even as I write this. It's unlikely that I'll discard my old ways entirely; but please, do pardon my play as I experiment with other modes of delivery.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
When
When thoughts get tangled, invite silence.
When the path is unclear, sharpen your vision.
When overwhelmed with worry, imagine success.
When feeling all alone, find someone that you can help.
When weary or depressed, ask your breath to buoy your spirit.
When outside forces foil your plans, reassess, regroup and carry on.
When motivation wanes, consider the tenacity that's inherent in all of life.
When emotions boil over, kill the heat, lift the lid, inhale the aroma and let it rest.
When ungrounded, feel the sun on your skin, play with water, walk barefoot in the grass ...
When an others flaw shows, share a loving smile and offer a compliment or some encouragement.
When death passes near, be grateful for life, embrace the past, then open arms and eyes to the future.
When you think you've got it all figured out, recall the tale of the 3 blind men and the elephant.
When you observe yourself thinking, acting or speaking harshly, fess up and apologize.
When victorious or successful, acknowledge all the others who made it possible.
When faith wears thin, let the fabric unravel and feel your source being.
When you don't know what you want, what you want is to know.
When an answer doesn't come, rephrase your question.
When conflict arises, step into the others' shoes.
When feeling rushed, pause and breathe.
When in err, rejoice being human.
When the path is unclear, sharpen your vision.
When overwhelmed with worry, imagine success.
When feeling all alone, find someone that you can help.
When weary or depressed, ask your breath to buoy your spirit.
When outside forces foil your plans, reassess, regroup and carry on.
When motivation wanes, consider the tenacity that's inherent in all of life.
When emotions boil over, kill the heat, lift the lid, inhale the aroma and let it rest.
When ungrounded, feel the sun on your skin, play with water, walk barefoot in the grass ...
When an others flaw shows, share a loving smile and offer a compliment or some encouragement.
When death passes near, be grateful for life, embrace the past, then open arms and eyes to the future.
When you think you've got it all figured out, recall the tale of the 3 blind men and the elephant.
When you observe yourself thinking, acting or speaking harshly, fess up and apologize.
When victorious or successful, acknowledge all the others who made it possible.
When faith wears thin, let the fabric unravel and feel your source being.
When you don't know what you want, what you want is to know.
When an answer doesn't come, rephrase your question.
When conflict arises, step into the others' shoes.
When feeling rushed, pause and breathe.
When in err, rejoice being human.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Listen Up
One of the most important times to be mindful is when talking to others.
Far too often, it seems as though people join in conversations, primarily, in order to speak. Some seek to build self esteem by making an impression on others, some feel deeply compelled to convey particular information, some strive to manipulate others - the reasons are many. Whatever the motivation, most people don't really tend to listen very well.
Minds wander or are too busy trying to figure out what thoughts to run through the mouth next, or are so impatient that they can't help but to blurt out their offerings in the middle of another's speech. Sometimes it's something completely unrelated and sometimes it's a response to the others thoughts before they've been fully delivered, which is kind of like watching the first half of a movie and then discussing its ending with imagined understanding. When I'm on the interrupted side in this scenario, it feels as dismissive as if the interrupter had just turned and walked away while I was in mid sentence, too impatient to allow me to finish or too uninterested in what I was saying.
Having practiced and taught exercises in active listening, I know that it can be a very illuminating and rewarding practice. Not only because one actually hears the others message, but because there's so much more to absorb about the other, when one decides to really tune in. And it's actually a functional method of meditation, too; in that, it requires prolonged focus and a selfless attitude in order to accept the flowing stream of words, feelings and ideas without judgment, evaluation or response.
The next time you find yourself in a conversation, try to give the other party's cause priority over your own. You'll find that it's far more challenging than it may sound. It'll probably take practice to get good at it. But I wager that, as you perfect the practice, your conversations will become more meaningful, you'll learn more about your self, world and friends and your relationships will grow much deeper.
It's a free and easily arranged experiment. You've got nothing to lose, so give it a try. Listen up and be there for the other side of the conversation. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at just how rewarding it can be.
Far too often, it seems as though people join in conversations, primarily, in order to speak. Some seek to build self esteem by making an impression on others, some feel deeply compelled to convey particular information, some strive to manipulate others - the reasons are many. Whatever the motivation, most people don't really tend to listen very well.
Minds wander or are too busy trying to figure out what thoughts to run through the mouth next, or are so impatient that they can't help but to blurt out their offerings in the middle of another's speech. Sometimes it's something completely unrelated and sometimes it's a response to the others thoughts before they've been fully delivered, which is kind of like watching the first half of a movie and then discussing its ending with imagined understanding. When I'm on the interrupted side in this scenario, it feels as dismissive as if the interrupter had just turned and walked away while I was in mid sentence, too impatient to allow me to finish or too uninterested in what I was saying.
Having practiced and taught exercises in active listening, I know that it can be a very illuminating and rewarding practice. Not only because one actually hears the others message, but because there's so much more to absorb about the other, when one decides to really tune in. And it's actually a functional method of meditation, too; in that, it requires prolonged focus and a selfless attitude in order to accept the flowing stream of words, feelings and ideas without judgment, evaluation or response.
The next time you find yourself in a conversation, try to give the other party's cause priority over your own. You'll find that it's far more challenging than it may sound. It'll probably take practice to get good at it. But I wager that, as you perfect the practice, your conversations will become more meaningful, you'll learn more about your self, world and friends and your relationships will grow much deeper.
It's a free and easily arranged experiment. You've got nothing to lose, so give it a try. Listen up and be there for the other side of the conversation. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at just how rewarding it can be.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Get Lost
Being present, in the moment, now. It's a very simple idea. But it can't be realized as long as one remains fixated in thought. It seems perfectly practical to the thinking mind. “The present is a thing (or a place or a state) that I am to remain affixed to.” But it isn't like that. By the time you've registered something occurring, it's already in the past – let alone after thinking about it. Being present is being on the leading edge of creation. It's more a state of anticipation than recognition.
You could take a snap shot of a sunset and have a perfectly nice memory. But it's merely a petrified footprint of a sunset that existed only momentarily, just for that spot on the planet and lived a lifetime of shapes and shades and shines, in a splash. When living within a world of thought, life is seen as a series of footprints, in the wake of the world that just happened.
It's no different than as seen reflected in listening to music. It can be a visceral experience when lost in it's unfolding – rather than lost in thought. In fact, “lost” is a prerequisite to full presence. Becoming one with the moment isn't just a catchy slogan. It's an accurate description. There can be no “one” when there's a “me”. Me, requires “other than me”.
So being present isn't so much about being just the right way. When you're there, it's more like “not-being”. Learning to hold space, maintain open presence and acute awareness, without claiming ownership of, or feeling compelled to articulate, anything. Without expectations, or need for experiences to mesh with preconceptions. Not seeing how it is in relation to one's self and story, but how it flows as an awe inspiring, ever emerging, spring of infinite creation.
There's an awareness that's always present, which seems to be us, but is clearly not the us we think of when considering who we are. Whether you interpret it as your higher self, God's presence within, or one of many facets of self doesn't matter. What does matter is that we learn to invite its untainted presence into our experiences and hear its council as much as we possibly can. The thinker won't care much for this idea. Promises of rewards can entice the thinker into cooperation, but it's like talking to a fish about mountain climbing. It just doesn't compute.
It's not that the thinker is necessarily wrong, it's just not as right as it thinks it is. It can't see beyond the confines of it's own view point, which will never reveal more than a fraction of life's unfolding from one small perspective. So we learn to accept that quiet presence as a life long companion and partner. Not because the book said to or because there's some reward in doing so; but rather, because it's the most accurate, honest and natural way to see and be.
Our job is not to manufacture and maintain our personal truth, but to be open to witnessing everything, as it appears, with full understanding that it's only appearances. We simply can't capture the truth, or even see it in its entirety. And that's OK.
We aren't here to serve our egos. They're here to serve us. So lose your little self and awaken to living your life, to seeing and feeling and hearing, to connecting on an intimate level with those around you, and to being as receptive as you can be, in all ways and to all things. Life is far too amazing/wondrous/awesome/remarkable/miraculous/astonishing/spectacular and marvelous to let it pass you by, while living out your days inside of your head. Go ahead, get lost, and be alive.
Isn't that the whole point?
You could take a snap shot of a sunset and have a perfectly nice memory. But it's merely a petrified footprint of a sunset that existed only momentarily, just for that spot on the planet and lived a lifetime of shapes and shades and shines, in a splash. When living within a world of thought, life is seen as a series of footprints, in the wake of the world that just happened.
It's no different than as seen reflected in listening to music. It can be a visceral experience when lost in it's unfolding – rather than lost in thought. In fact, “lost” is a prerequisite to full presence. Becoming one with the moment isn't just a catchy slogan. It's an accurate description. There can be no “one” when there's a “me”. Me, requires “other than me”.
So being present isn't so much about being just the right way. When you're there, it's more like “not-being”. Learning to hold space, maintain open presence and acute awareness, without claiming ownership of, or feeling compelled to articulate, anything. Without expectations, or need for experiences to mesh with preconceptions. Not seeing how it is in relation to one's self and story, but how it flows as an awe inspiring, ever emerging, spring of infinite creation.
There's an awareness that's always present, which seems to be us, but is clearly not the us we think of when considering who we are. Whether you interpret it as your higher self, God's presence within, or one of many facets of self doesn't matter. What does matter is that we learn to invite its untainted presence into our experiences and hear its council as much as we possibly can. The thinker won't care much for this idea. Promises of rewards can entice the thinker into cooperation, but it's like talking to a fish about mountain climbing. It just doesn't compute.
It's not that the thinker is necessarily wrong, it's just not as right as it thinks it is. It can't see beyond the confines of it's own view point, which will never reveal more than a fraction of life's unfolding from one small perspective. So we learn to accept that quiet presence as a life long companion and partner. Not because the book said to or because there's some reward in doing so; but rather, because it's the most accurate, honest and natural way to see and be.
Our job is not to manufacture and maintain our personal truth, but to be open to witnessing everything, as it appears, with full understanding that it's only appearances. We simply can't capture the truth, or even see it in its entirety. And that's OK.
We aren't here to serve our egos. They're here to serve us. So lose your little self and awaken to living your life, to seeing and feeling and hearing, to connecting on an intimate level with those around you, and to being as receptive as you can be, in all ways and to all things. Life is far too amazing/wondrous/awesome/remarkable/miraculous/astonishing/spectacular and marvelous to let it pass you by, while living out your days inside of your head. Go ahead, get lost, and be alive.
Isn't that the whole point?
Friday, June 4, 2010
The Thrifty Life
People tend to take life personally. Fantasies don't come true, jobs turn out to be 5 times bigger once commitments are made, the weather doesn't cooperate and other's attempts to fulfill their fantasies often interfere with our own schemes and dreams. When such events transpire, we feel frustration and disappointment, resentment and anger, all manner of negative responses spring to life as a result of our reactions to life's events.
Those of us who frequent thrift shops and garage sales learn to adopt a particular attitude when “thrifting”. Wants are clearly differentiated from needs, and hopes for specific presents are carried lightly. We enter with eyes wide, scanning shelves and racks for the slightest glint of special. Evaluation proceeds without attachments. When a zipper is found broken, the matching plate has a chip, the lamp doesn't light or the shoe doesn't fit, there's little sense of loss, because we don't own any of it. No time is spent mourning any absence. Focus clings to undiscovered possibilities. The eyes are back on the prowl, fingers feel for finery, feet seek virgin aisles and imagination invents new uses for curiosities – and all of this, usually, with thoughts of friends and family swirling through the racks, to broaden the scope of potential discoveries.
Whatever the spoils of our conquests, at the end of the day, surprise prizes are cherished every bit as much as that rare reward of a wish granted. And this mindset can be propagated.
It's probably not the most practical way to exercise this attitude (unless you happen to own a chain of self storage complexes) but clearly, there are some lessons, imparted through thrifting, worthy of being integrated into daily life. Take things as they come, be happy with what you have, keep your focus on the positive, look for the special in the ordinary, …
Better living through “thrifty” thinking.
Those of us who frequent thrift shops and garage sales learn to adopt a particular attitude when “thrifting”. Wants are clearly differentiated from needs, and hopes for specific presents are carried lightly. We enter with eyes wide, scanning shelves and racks for the slightest glint of special. Evaluation proceeds without attachments. When a zipper is found broken, the matching plate has a chip, the lamp doesn't light or the shoe doesn't fit, there's little sense of loss, because we don't own any of it. No time is spent mourning any absence. Focus clings to undiscovered possibilities. The eyes are back on the prowl, fingers feel for finery, feet seek virgin aisles and imagination invents new uses for curiosities – and all of this, usually, with thoughts of friends and family swirling through the racks, to broaden the scope of potential discoveries.
Whatever the spoils of our conquests, at the end of the day, surprise prizes are cherished every bit as much as that rare reward of a wish granted. And this mindset can be propagated.
It's probably not the most practical way to exercise this attitude (unless you happen to own a chain of self storage complexes) but clearly, there are some lessons, imparted through thrifting, worthy of being integrated into daily life. Take things as they come, be happy with what you have, keep your focus on the positive, look for the special in the ordinary, …
Better living through “thrifty” thinking.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
