Second Installment: It’s Not Love that is Blind…

emotion

emotion (Photo credit: Bonito Club)

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” —Carl Jung

This continues my meditation of the idea that coupling is caused by various,  and mysterious causes.  Still, as at age 65, I bid adieu to sexual relationships and  “all that,” I look back at the world of  young (and sometimes old) people forming relationships…I go back to the question, “Is it due to mysterious, romantic causes we mortals cannot be privy to?” as many say.  Or are there reasons based on the realities we constructed that we become intimate with some people and not others?

I hope to help my readers perhaps lessen the pain in relationships by seeing how they choose who to partner with.  Now, if you had a wonderful childhood with little pain inflicted by family or society, you probably don’t need to read this.  You probably chose someone with a happy “schema,”  and though, in the Buddhist sense you still believe you are a false self, yours is a happier round on this mortal coil.  Or if childhood was not easy, but somebody loved you enough that you picked another who would love you well, see you later.  However….if not….

This is not to say at all that you should look for Ms. or Mr. Perfect, since they don’t exist anyway!  Please do not misunderstand.  I am simply offering an antidote to illusions about why you are motivated, attracted, “mysteriously” drawn to someone.  You will still probably end up with that one person who can drive you crazy or pushes your buttons, because that is how the ego has it set up:  First you do things unconsciously based on your upbringing/culture/sex/education, then hopefully you do the same things but mindfully with compassion for yourself.  In this case compassion for the other comes secondary because you cannot have real compassion for another if you do not see your motivations clearly.  Indeed, focusing on the other may often simply be a way to avoid focusing on who you are and why you do what you do.  Many of us, in fact, hide behind “loving the other, understanding the other” so we look good, but at the same time can be blind to our false and real selves.

So, I offer descriptions of the most common “schemas” we build our identities upon, as described in Bennett-Goleman’s book,  I suggest you imagine with each what kind of partner would someone with that schema pick.  It’s no mystery.  In fact is is so clear that  we turn a blind eye and prefer the mystery.  However, that will not keep pain or confusion away, my dear friends.  By looking fearlessly we see.  By seeing we heal.

My theory is that our false selves (egos) are in charge of our “love” choices.  This doesn’t mean we are stupid or bad people; it simply means that, if  means that the ego is running things as usual.  By ego, I mean our usual societal illusions about who we are and what love is.  Ego construction of a false self begins in infancy and is either reinforced through mindless habit or challenged by mindful examination.  For example, “I must be perfect to be loved, or I will be abandoned if I am vulnerable etc.”  We form what is called “schemas” by Tara Bennet-Goleman in her book Emotional Alchemy, How the MInd can Heal the Heart.

It’s not a far jump from a world view that says “My needs won’t be met and I don’t trust people” to landing in a relationship with someone who will not meet your needs, will control you  and likely betray you.  If you grew up with a father who was passive, controlled by his wife, and unable to assert himself, you will probably choose a man who can be easily seduced and manipulated.  The problem is when you wonder why you are with that man.  The answer is as simple as your schema and his.

Subjugation:    This schema typically originates in a childhood dominated by parents who give the child no say. The assertion of absolute authority runs a continuum from outright violence and threats to a more subtle control via disapproving looks, frown, tone of voice.  These children can become  adults who are so used to having the other dictate to them that they are no longer in touch with what they actually want or needStrategies these adults use are not committing to things, surrendering in any disagreement. Their anger and resentment at being controlled can come out as missing deadlines, being chronically late, putting things off.

Perfectionism:  This distorting lens…focuses on what’s wrong with what you’ve done.
The failure schema leads us to expect too much or too little of
ourselves.  This critical lens can alight on any situation always
seeking out flaws.  People with this schema often blur the fine line
between a valid discernment and a judgmental opinion; they see their
criticism as correct and appropriate.  One sign…is that you feel you
have to keep pushing and pushing yourself to do more…The emotional root of this is a sense of failing no matter how hard you try.
To blunt the likelihood of criticism, these people drive themselves to
work much  harder than they have to, or give up dong things for fear
they won’t be perfect.

Vulnerability:  …can lead people to be overly conscientious
in order to ensure a feeling of safety–extra thrifty to the point of
denying themselves pleasure, or embracing extreme diet or health fads in
the hope of warding off some dreaded disease.  Loss of control lies at the core of the vulnerability pattern.
The distinctive emotional signature of vulnerability is an exaggerated
fear that some catastrophe is about to strike. The roots of
vulnerability can usually be traced back to a parent who had the same
tendency to catastrophize or to a time a person felt as if something bad
was about to happen. The child learns to worry too much, either by
following the parent’s model or because there are real problems in the family to worry about.

Unlovabiity: Shame and humiliation are the most prominent emotions in this schema.The
sense of being somehow flawed and unworthy of being loved is often
instilled by parents who were hypercritical, insulting or demeaning.
The message need not have be articulated in words; children pick up
nonverbal expressions of disgust or contempt. One way of coping with
such demeaning messages can be seen in the child who is so beaten down
that he accepts them. Such a child capitulates, building a definition of
himself that has a deeply felt inadequacy at its core. Another child
might erect a facade of bravado. The adults with this schema tend to
hide themselves, revealing little of their feelings, making themselves
hard to get to know. Others hide their sense of defectiveness behind an
arrogant bravado.They feel a deep sadness when they are alone with
thoughts that no one would want to be with you.

Deprivation:  My needs won’t be met” is the sentence that sums up the core belief of this schema.
One or both parents are so self-absorbed–whether in their work, in
their own misery, or an addiction like alcoholism, or in constant
preoccupation–that they simply did not notice or seem to care much
about their child’s emotional needs.  People with this schema may become demanding of attention, or
conversely do too much for everyone else, or feel others should know
their needs without being told.  They may become self-indulgent,
spending too much or overeating.  Others become “parents” for other
adults and feel they are never doing enough for another.

Abandonment:  The ongoing fear that people will leave us is at the core of this schema. Someone with this schema can become a worrywart about a relationship, fearing if she rocks the boat in the smallest way, her lover will abandon her for someone else.  Alternatively, she may adapt running away from a relationship before her partner can leave her.

Mistrust:  Core belief is people can’t be trusted. Along with this belief comes its emotional hallmark: quickness not just to anger but to rage.  People with this schema are constantly vigilant in relationships.  They tend to assume the worst of others. This schema derives from abuse–emotional, sexual or physical. This person may shy away from relationships or at first idealize a partner, then blow up at a seeming betrayal.  Another variation is to be in a string of abusive relationships.

It’s important to understand that  most people have some combination  of these, but certain ones dominate more than others.  For example, having been raised by two alchoholics, I win the dubious prize of identifying with nearly all of the schemas.  If you had abusive or addicted parents, I’m afraid that may be true for you as well.  Still, probably a couple will fit the role you took in the family more than others. People in the same family often experience different types and different levels of abuse. In some families one child is abused and another lavished with “love”

If we can see the story we carry, even when we inevitably gravitate to the “familiar” person who seems “somehow right” for us, we can use our knowledge of our schemas to temper our passions.  When we can see ourselves more clearly, we see the other more clearly and can build a less “mysterious” relationship.”  This is my hope for you.

May we be free from illusions that cause us to suffer.

My Body, My False Self

So-called “Lancelotti Discobolus”. Marble, Rom...

So-called “Lancelotti Discobolus”. Marble, Roman artwork, ca. 140 CE. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As I am bidding adieu to being desired for my body (not that so many were desiring it, ever), I take refuge in my buddhist practice.  I continue to investigate my “false self” and find that much of the story that creates that self is linked to my identification as  a body.  Consequently, aging is difficult since it affects the body and therefore much of  my identity.  Especially as a woman. As I age I am challenged to let go of this identity, this attachment, this obsession with and judgment of  my body.

As I look back on this phenomena of the importance society puts on the body, it becomes clear that most young people think they are bodies, at least I know I thought that.  People who look good partner with others who look good and create beautiful or handsome kids. The choice of partner is based on looks first and foremost.

From where I stand now in my aging body, I look back on a cruel, primitive  game.  This game began in the cave where the strongest man got the most fertile woman, judged so probably by body shape.  We continue to play this ancient game– even now when procreation is no longer essential, but a choice. We call this game “normal” and cause each other untold  pain. If we think we are bodies and that we will be loved because we are handsome or beautiful and young—and this not paranoia, dear friends, but our sad reality–then many of us are unloved or fear we will be unloved. A reasonable fear considering the world ego built.  Worse, our identities (our false selves) feel rejection after rejection.  “I” am rejected. Men experience this more as they age, probably, than they did when they were younger.  In age, men experience, possibly for the first time, what it is like to be rejected for your body type, your looks.

Age proves that ego has been in charge the whole time.  We simply don’t notice it when we are in young bodies.  When we think we are bodies we suffer.  We’ve all heard it before, but don’t really  listen to what we are saying: Even those who are beautiful or handsome suffer that they are loved for mostly for  their bodies.

Letting go of my identity as a young woman who might be desired is only hard when I identify with my body.  It’s difficult only when I give all power to sexuality to determine my loveability.  It’s  difficult only when I forget how painful it was to compete with other women to be “chosen,” or commiserate with them about the “shortcomings” of our looks.  It’s difficult only when I believe I am a body.

As my body is fading in importance, I feel some fear and grief, but also a freedom I never knew in my young body.

It’s Not Love that is Blind…

The Flirtation

The Flirtation (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m not one to generalize (haha!) but here’s a generalization that seems to hold true often:  Women like “bad boys” and men like women who are kinda mean and high maintenance.  Why do I think this is true more often than not?  Read on…

A friend of mine and I were talking about how people get into relationships.  He said he doesn’t know why people end up with each other, that it happens for various and mysterious reasons.  I was surprised by this. Is it really so mysterious?  Or is it easier to not think about why we get with someone.

 

In my opinion there is no mystery at all.  People choose partners who resemble their parents–for good or ill.  Simple. If we had loving, healthy parents, we will have loving good relationships, if we had less than that, we will have less than that.  There is no magic, cosmic process by which you end up with someone. We form our ideas about who loves us and why in the first years of life and look for people who confirm those ideas even when we are forty, fifty or even older.  Some of us look for the “magic” until we die.  And if we don’t look mindfully at who we are and who we are attracted to, we will repeat the same patterns even when we think we know better.If we had a controlling mother  (and who hasn’t?) we will be drawn “mysteriously” to the same controlling nature of our partner.  If we have a passive, withdrawn father, we will a “strangely” strong pull towards the man who is passive and withdrawn.Why would we do this?  Because we go unconscious and fall into habit.  This feels comfortable and natural because it is our habitual way of thinking and feeling.We call it mystery when it is actually blindly following our story that we established as kids with our parents.  The woman whose father who approved of his pretty girl when she flirted with him will likely seek men who relate to her on a mostly sexual level  The  man whose mother dominated him will seek a woman like her and then be surprised when the woman is dominating.It’s not our fault. None of us are immune to solidifying our ‘stories” about who we are and then living out those stories unconsciously.  It would be lovely if all of us had been told we were worthy of unconditional love by parents who gave it to each other and their children.  In those cases we would seek partners who reflect the same wonderful stories. But the ego is running the show for most of us or we would have a much kinder, happier world overall.
I think what blinds us most to the mundane, yet challenging truth of why we choose a partner is sex. Sex lets us both hide from the fact that we are probably with a person like our parents (again) for a while. Sex allows us to identify most with our bodies where the need is simple and direct.  We lose ourselves in the physical sensations and focus on our body and our partner’s body as we do with no one else–as if that is all we are, bodies.  We feel that we mesh somehow, that we are like one person, one grand energy. We can even think we have surpassed ego, that now we are a new spiritual unit together.  We want sex to be  our easy spiritual answer.  It’s fun, and we think it is the kind of pleasure that we can return to again and again.  It is not the hard work of a spiritual practice.
The most powerful sexual attraction I ever had was with the man who most completely identified with  his body.  He’d been with a lot of women because he was physically attractive and driven by his sexuality. He used sex to escape his intense emotional pain and to control his lovers.  He was  the most emotionally damaged person I had ever known, other than my parents, whose only bond also was sexual.
So, I was thinking about what is it, other than sexual pleasure, that makes me wish I was in a couple sometimes even now at 65 and no longer have the compulsion to be coupled. I know that the ego now wants my attachments to shift to grandchildren who will “make me happy” as a man was supposed to do when I was younger. The proof that we are driven by our egos is that we relegate our lives according to bodies, their age, their desirability. The body is the ego’s prime identity.The problem, for women especially, is that an old body is de-valued in the extreme. Not that I’m immune to that sortof ego-thinking.  Would I want to be in a couple with a man in his 80′s? Unlikely.  Though much more likely if I was a man.What is different about being in a couple than what I have with my friends now?  My friends love me, care about my well-being, recognize my talents, will be there for me in times of trouble, think I am a good, interesting person.  What am I missing?  The answer is that with my friends I am not the most special person; they have other friends who are just as “special “ as I am.  With a partner, I am extra special because we have sex. Because of what I think is special intimacy, I want extra approval from a partner.  I don’t need as much approval like that from friends. Why?  We don’t have sex.  They don’t care what my body looks like. I know they love me for who I am, not because I am special. 
Really when we seek a partner it is either to have children (when we are in child-bearing years) or to find approval.  If we stay together, we spend the rest of our lives seeing how our partner resembles the still-resented parent and hopefully, now more awake again, healing that resentment. This is good. Mystery solved. We finally can gain consciousness. We can finally recognize our false selves, our habitual childhood longings. We can love at last.(If you see ads appearing with my blogs, they are not of my choosing.  WordPress allows ads to appear out of nowhere on my blogs now sometimes.  That is horrible.  But it would cost me $99 to get “ad-free.”  I will probably leave WordPress soon due to this terrible policy of theirs.)

Satsang with Sadhguru “Suffering”


http://www.youtube.com/user/sadhguru

New (for me to you) Metta

Buddha with the Elephant Nalagiri

Buddha with the Elephant Nalagiri (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Metta means loving-kindness. Buddhists use it to cultivate good will
towards everyone, including themselves. It is also used often when a
person has problems with another; you send them “metta” instead of
wanting them to change or apologize or whatever.

I’ve revised the usual metta “prayer” (we don’t acutally pray to
any diety in Buddhism, but it’s the best word I can think of at the
moment). The traditional prayer goes something like this:

“May you be happy, may you be well, may you be free from sickness, may you be safe, may you be peaceful.”

Those
did not feel like the best wishes to me. I don’t want to wish
“happiness” when it has such a broad meaning that it means nothing.
Also happiness does not last. Well-being and freedom illness is also
not lasting. I wanted to send someone loving wishes for things that
would last and bring true “happiness.” So here’s the metta I wrote and
now use:

May you be wise enough to recognize the illusions that make you suffer.
May you be brave enough to let go of them.
May you not fear change, being alone, illness, old age or death.
May you be free of attachements and fear of loss which results in the need to control life and other people.
May you live mindfully in the present moment.
May you awaken.

“And what Monks, is Ageing?”

Magnoliopsida

Magnoliopsida (Photo credit: *Grant*)

Watchfulness is the path to immortality and thoughtlessness the path to death. The watchful do not die, but the thoughtless are already like the dead.

[Dhammapada v21]

From the article, “And what Monks, is Ageing?”  by Sylvia Swain

….From birth to death, as Buddhists, we can trust that our lives are contained in a greater reality than anything we can contain, grasp and hold. Buddhism demonstrates that, as we are growing into that which is the greater, we personally become smaller.

…What we learn in the first half of life strengthens us, but it does not prepare us for the contraction of life and faculty which follows in old age. We have to continue that analogy of the sun at the stroke of noon. Jung went on to say, ‘After having lavished its light upon the world, the sun withdraws its rays in order to illuminate itself.’ He maintained that, for the ageing person, it is a duty and a necessity to devote serious attention to himself. ‘Otherwise,’ he continued, ‘many old people prefer to be hypochondriacs, niggards, pedants, applauders of the past, or else eternal adolescents—all lamentable substitutes for the illumination of the self . . . A human being would not grow to be 70 or 80 years old if this longevity has no meaning for the species.’ (8, par.785)

…By the time we reach the late stage of the ageing process, we come to experience for ourselves the practical truth underlying that first Noble Truth {“There is Suffering”}. We could not have survived thus far in a state of total escape from that knowledge. However, it depends on the mindfulness exerted during our life span so far, as to whether the causes of our suffering have been fully acknowledged for what they were. We can all know dukkha, but if, whilst we suffer, we still project the blame for our craving, clinging, hatred, and aversion, only onto outer causes, can we truly say that we know the underlying reality of the second Noble Truth {There Are Causes of Suffering}, of the causes of suffering? Or are we, even at a late stage, still unconscious of it? To achieve this purifying knowledge, we need to have directed our attention deeply within, to make it a personal investigation.

…All our energy in early life is needed to fulfil these early tasks and this is as it should be. Prince Siddhartha did the same and did not question these aims until his time came when he left home in response to, as Jung said, ‘At the stroke of noon, the descent begins, and the descent means the reversal of all the ideals and values that were cherished in the morning. The sun falls into contradiction with itself.’

…This seeing the other side of things in a different light is the culture shock for which that strong ego-consciousness is needed. There is sometimes confusion here, as to the difference in meaning between a strong egoic consciousness and egotism. They are complete opposites. A strong ego knows right from wrong, is confident and controlled. An egotist is immature, weak, and given to self-admiration, as in the myth of Narcissus.

…The reversal of values at the afternoon of life requires that a new centre for the process of relinquishment of the personality must be started and then followed through with the same assiduity as was given to the building of the ego-consciousness.

“Everything is Burning” An Essay

water-fire-abstract-black-background

Everything is Burning

“We are part fire, and part dream…” –-Fire Dog, Cheyenne

“Everything is burning!” said the Buddha almost 25 centuries ago. “Burning with what? Burning with the fires of greed, hatred and delusion.”(Samyutta Nikaya 35.28)

As I was writing the first draft of this essay in the summer of 2012, fires had consumed forests in 13 Western States, ” …8.6 million acres {burned}, an area larger than the state of Maryland” (Huffington Post).   Then in the Fall of 2012, floods drowned large parts of the New Jersey and New York coastline. Now in May 2013 an EF-5 tornado has destroyed Morse, Oklahoma.

It’s clear we are blown apart, burned and drowned together along with all things below the sky.  And yet, we think what happens to nature takes place outside of our houses, our bodies, our minds. The twisted, leafless trees are our very bones. The tornado is our congested lungs bursting. The swollen rivers are filled with our torrent of tears

A great many people have told us nature is not outside our bodies and minds: scientists, philosophers, mystics, poets, native Americans, Buddhists and Taoists, and even children have been telling us this for centuries. The ancient Greeks acknowledged “a great chain of being.” But all these old and new voices are unheard beneath the din of commerce and war.

“… all things share the same breath – the beast, the tree, the man … the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.” —-Chief Seattle, Dwamish – 1786-1866

*****

At 6:30 AM from my balcony, behind the palms and under the live-oaks, the sky is deep orange and pink. The trees are black silhouettes in this slowly lifting, soft darkness. Out here there are no problems– only trees, birds, breezes and flowers. This is true no matter what problem I was keeping alive indoors.

Once I step out into the world, letting go simply happens with no effort on my part. The air, the rising sun, the plants, and trees absorb my anxiety, coax me to breathe again, to open my heart and drop my mask.

The energy coursing through everything is silent.  The only sounds that come and go at this hour are mockingbird songs, doves cooing, parrots and crows squawking, an occasional car growling.

It’s cool for this time of year in Florida and an ideal time and place for meditation.  But I have my coffee cup in my hand, and still feel groggy.  It occurs to me that it’s not cheating to keep my eyes during mediation and use the sky as the focal point, the sky and my breath.

Thoughts tumble over and upon each other, as ever. I know by now to not follow them, so I look up—just the sky. Then it is easier to remember: I am alive. Easier to remember one of  Thich Nhat Hanh’s deceptively simple mantras:  “Breathing in, I’m aware I am breathing in.  Breathing out, I am aware I am breathing out.”

The sky is wide, open, endless space. Something in me is constantly yearning for this spaciousness, even when I am unaware of the yearning.

I watch my mind:  thinking, thinking, sky, thinking, thinking, sky…: planning, judging, sky…thinking, thinking.. cluttered mind… sky. Clamoring, crowded mind…simple sky… empty… circling sky. That peaceful spaciousness that the Buddha talks about is just outside my door. But only if I step outside.  Only if I acknowledge my breath.   Clear view, calm heart.  Is more necessary?

“…So to breathe in and be aware of your body and look deeply into it and realize you are the Earth and your consciousness is also the consciousness of the Earth…” –Thich Nhat Hanh (interview with The Guardian 2012)

Under threat of tornadoes, fires and floods, I seek safety.  Answers. Wisdom.   Did we once know nature is in our body’s blood, air, flesh? If we remembered that again would we survive?

There are striking similarities between traditions of unrelated and geographically separated peoples:  Buddhist and Native American.  The Lakota Oglala Sioux writer/actor/philosopher Luther Standing Bear, Black Elk also of the Lakota Oglala Sioux nation,  Chiysea (Charles Eastman) of the Santee Sioux, and Fire Dog, of the Cheyenne nation have much in common with Buddhist like Pema Chodron, Thich Nhat Hanh, Soko Moringa Roshi,  and John Daido Loori.

For example, the Buddhist practice is one of mindfulness and meditation, a belief in interdependence of all beings. In the same way, respect for the great mystery of creation and our illusions of separateness is also found in teachings of the Native American philosophers. Buddhists and these Native Americans tell us to engage in more silent observation—less labeling and more seeing.  Both remind us of the universal law of karma (cause and effect).   Both stress our oneness with all creation and warn us about the destruction of ourselves in the destruction of nature.

Buddha, meet Black Elk. You have a lot in common.

The first peace, which is the most important, is that which comes within the souls of people when they realize their relationship, their oneness with the universe and all its powers, and when they realize that at the center of the universe dwells the Great Spirit, and that this center is really everywhere, it is within each of us.”  —Black Elk – Oglala Sioux

Black Elk, meet Soko Morinaga Roshi. You will understand each other with barely a word spoken.

Buddha is revealed through mountains, valleys, trees, and grasses, through a multitude of phenomena. The heart that can be revered in whatever form we see, in whatever direction we look, this is the true heart of Buddhism, this is Buddha life. — Soko Morinaga Roshi

Since childhood, I have been drawn to nature for solace. Children, even now sometimes, have a natural physical and emotional affinity for nature. They abandon themselves and the limits of their human bodies to immerse themselves in nature as they roll in the grass, cover themselves in mud, climb into the laps of trees.  Perhaps they are still have an elemental knowing of what we are part of:  “Look mom, a dog!” They shout as if seeing a miracle. They greet the dogs and cats and birds with the recognition of long-lost siblings. Do they still see their own faces mirrored in the eyes of  dolphins and dogs?  We “grow out of that,” as if that is something to be proud of.  Or is it a tragedy, this “growing” away,  pulling ourselves away from the earth as far as possible? At last, “grown-up” we shun mud and no longer see the miracle of a dog.

Now that I have a Buddhist practice I anchor it nature, and discover that the kids were on the right track.  Buddha, the Native American, the poet, the naturalist, the philosopher all direct me into the wide world right outside my door.  I need only follow my breath to find “it” as I move beneath the trees, along the shore.  What is “it”?  What we are. What else is more important?

Everything humans needed was once just outside their shelter. This memory is embedded in our collective consciousness. The existence of that memory gives me hope that, if we choose to, we can still remember who we are. Evidence of that memory shows up in the oddest ways.  For example, modern  humans cannot get enough of windows and big spaces:  French doors, bay windows, open floor plans, walk-in closets, “more room and more view” seems to be our battle-cry. We pay “for the view” in restaurants and real estate. Why do we so passionately long for more rooms, more views?  Maybe we long for home: outside– the space, the spaciousness of sky and earth and shoreline where life flows, with no effort on our part.

Maybe we are homesick.

Even now after we have carved up the land, depleted its soil, paved it over, built buildings that dwarf the tallest sequoia, we still “dream” of owning what land that remains. However, no matter how thick the bricks and mortar, we are desperate for windows.   We cannot live without the light coming in through the windows.  We say “Oh, this is a good room,” we say, “ lots of light..”  A room, no matter how luxurious without windows reminds us of a prison cell.  What is it out there that we must seeMaybe we are homesick for….

spaciousness

where breath was as deep and easy as the wind,  the open plains of grasses, the endless horizon above the water.

The abbot of the Zen Mountain Monastery in Mt. Temper, New York puts it this way,

It’s incomprehensible that each thing contains every other thing, that there’s a mutual identity and causality, that each thing contains the totality of the universe. But that’s the nature of reality…”—John Daido Loori

So, we pay to go home, but we don’t know that is what we are doing.  We call it a “vacation.”  We pay top dollar to see mountains or ocean, and think of them as objects to admire.  For a short while we “enjoy the scenery” before we return to concrete, controlled reality—what ego built.

Then, we wait again behind our closed doors in our locked buildings…

and long for what we call “vacation.”  We call it “recharging our batteries” —not such an exaggeration since we have forgotten the source of our energy.  Where do we go to “recharge”?  Outside.  Out to breathe again, to be quieted by mountains and lakes. We scramble….

to the beaches and forests  to bask in simplicity and non-doing.

We rush

to what is left of the wilderness to “get away from it all,” but not for long. We set aside so little time for our return home; we give it so little meaning. We “use” the earth and then “leave” it behind.   We think we can leave nature— until we visit it again.

We return to…

what we say is “full” of life:  commerce, chatter, control, capital and terror. Yet we are afraid of the “lonely” wilderness, afraid of the spaciousness that is not filled with our idea.  In our cars we head down the scenic drive, all but blindly. Seeing only objects we take camera shots of what are merely outlines of the truth.  This replaces any true, slow connection to the vibrant, pulsing life in the rocks and bugs and birds.

There are no such things as emptiness in the world.  Even in the sky there were no vacant places… The world teemed with life and wisdom; there was no complete solitude for the Lakota.  —Luther Standing Bear

Luther Standing Bear and Thich Nhat Hanh know our bodies consist of the soil, the water, the fire, the air.  The Buddhist Forest Monks in Thailand sit in the charnel grounds watching corpses disintegrate the gases and minerals and waters dissipate and fly into the air, float to the ground, settle back into the soil.  The monks sit on the ground meditating on how we dissolve into our various elements.  This practice allows them to challenge the fear of death and their attachment to the illusion of a solid body.

The man who sat on the ground in his tipi meditating on life and its meaning, accepting the kinship of all creatures and acknowledging unity with the universe of things, was infusing into his being the true essence of civilization.  —Luther Standing Bear

******

Except for environmentalists, most of us don’t think we have much in common with  a boulder, a cactus, a pine, or chipmunk. However, if we decide to be “good” citizens, we support the Sierra Club and the Wildlife Conservation.  Our good intentions all the while are for earth as the entity outside of us, “out there.”

Earth’s body and creature’s are harmed, and we are harmed.  Most of us, by now in 2012, know this intellectually, but we don’t really know.  Not in our hearts and bones.  We look at the earth as if we are viewing it from another planet.  From a distance we pity what we have done to the forests, the water, the air. So, we think we must fix it, repair it as if it was our car or our house—still believing in the illusion that we are the stewards of our “inferior” wildlife and its habitat. The “wilderness” is out there, a great distance from us, as anything wild, and therefore dangerous, ought to be.

 “Fear, separation, hate and anger come from the wrong view that you and the earth are two separate entities…“   Thich Nhat Hanh (interview with The Guardian 2/20/12)

Most of us still hold earth at arm’s length like anthropologists: earth as us, we are earth… hmm…an interesting idea held by indigenous folks and spiritual types.

Speaking for myself, aside from moments of reading poems by Mary Oliver (who knows what a snake wants upon waking), or essays by poetic naturalists like Chet Raymo (who knows what the stars say), or novelists like Louise Erdich (who knows what the green grass teaches), except for those time, I know that I have held this dual notion of earth being “out there” and not a part of me.

*********

The  East drowns and the West will burn again.  The Plains are blow apart, and will be again.

A lightning strike ignited the parched trees. The melting icecaps raise the ocean levels. Nature, we know, is responding to our hundreds of years of abuse.   The earth responds to cause and effect as do humans.  Buddha called this phenomena karma.   Native Americans knew our karma would result in nature’s pained response.  What then can we do?

First, we must face ourselves and our terrified, lonely minds who tells us lies about who we are.  Then we will see ourselves mixed with rain and ocean waters, built of calcium and minerals from the rocks, wearing the same flesh and hair that a deer or a bear wears, our life- blood circulating just like a tree’s life- blood.  Then we might recognize our real selves, our real home.

“We are the physical mirroring of Miaheyyum, the Total Universe, upon this earth our Mother...”   —Fire Dog, Cheyenne

Lasting Well-Being

MP900448103

Thanissaro Bhikkhu is abbot of Metta Forest Monastery, outside of San Diego. This article was excerpted from his latest book, With Each & Every Breath, available free from the monastery or at http://www.dhammatalks.org.

The values of human society, for the most part, fly right in the face of a meditative life. Either they make fun of the idea of a true, unchanging happiness, or they avoid the topic entirely, or else they say that you can’t reach an unchanging happiness through your own efforts. This is true even in societies that have traditionally been Buddhist, and it’s especially so in modern society, where the media exert pressure to look for happiness in things that will change.
The practice of meditation for the sake of an unconditioned happiness is always counter-cultural. No one else is going to protect your belief in the possibility of true happiness. You have to protect it yourself. So learn how to skillfully shelter your practice from the conflicting values of society at large. There are three basic ways in which you can do this: choosing admirable friends, learning to live frugally, and finding seclusion as much as you can.
Choosing Admirable Friends

When you associate with a person, you unconsciously pick up that person’s habits and views. This is why the most important principle in shaping the environment around your daily meditation tion is to associate with admirable people.
Admirable people have four qualities: They’re virtuous, generous, wise, and believe in the principle that skillful qualities should be developed and unskillful qualities abandoned. If you can find people like this, try to associate with them. Notice their good qualities, try to emulate them, and ask them how you might develop more virtue, generosity, wisdom, and conviction yourself.
So look around you. If you don’t see any people like this, search them out.
The problem is what to do with the people around you who aren’t admirable but with whom you have to spend time at home, at work, or on social occasions. This issue is especially difficult if they’re people for whom you’re responsible, or to whom you owe debts of gratitude, such as your parents. You have to spend time with these people; you have to help them. So learn what it means to spend time with people without associating with them—i.e., without picking up their habits and values. The primary principle is that you don’t go to them for advice on moral or spiritual issues.
Also, try to excuse yourself every time they try to pull you into activities that go against your precepts or principles. If the activities are unavoidable—as when there’s a party at work—take the attitude of being an anthropologist from outer space, observing the strange habits of earthlings in this society at this point in time.
If there are people or situations that tend to bring out the worst in you, and you can’t avoid them, sit down and devote a meditation session to planning how you can survive the encounter without getting your buttons pushed and with a minimum of unnecessary conflict. Learning how to prevent unskillful qualities from arising in the mind is an important part of the path, but all too often it’s overlooked. Not every meditation has to focus on the present. Just make sure that planning doesn’t take over your meditation and go beyond the bounds of what’s really helpful.
In some cases, if a friendship is centered on unskillful activities, you might consider putting it on hold. Even though the other person’s feelings might be hurt, you have to ask yourself which is more precious: that person’s feelings or the state of your mind. (And remember: Simply hurting another person’s feelings is not the same thing as causing that person harm.) You’ll eventually have more to offer that person—if you practice seriously, you can become that person’s admirable friend—so don’t think of your pulling away as an unkind act. If your friends are concerned that you’re becoming less social, talk the issue over with someone you trust.
The principle of being selective with your friends applies not only to people in the flesh but also to the media: newspapers, magazines, television, radio, and the Internet. Here it’s easier to turn things off without compunction. If you do feel the need to spend time with the media, ask yourself each time: Why am I doing this? What kind of people will I be associating with when I do? When they say something, why do they want me to believe it? Can I trust them? Who are their sponsors?
Even reading or watching the news has its dangers for someone training the mind. There’s nothing wrong with trying to stay informed of current events, but you have to be sensitive to the effect that too much attention to the news can have on your mind. The basic message of the news is that your time is unimportant, that the important things in the world are what other people are doing in other places. This is the opposite of the message of meditation: that the most important thing happening in your world is what you’re doing right here, right now.
So exercise moderation even in the amount of news you watch. Instead, watch the news being made right at your breath. And when you have news of this sort to report, report it only to people who have earned your trust.

Living Frugally

Buddhist monks are encouraged every day to reflect on why they use the four requisites of life: food, clothing, shelter, and medicine. The purpose of this reflection is to see if they’ve been using these things to excess or in ways that will develop unskillful states of mind. They’re also advised to reflect on the fact that each of the requisites has come about through the sacrifices of many, many people and other living beings. This reflection encourages the monks to live simply and to aim ultimately at a truly noble form of happiness that places no burdens on anyone at all.
Lay meditators benefit from reflecting daily in this way as well, to counteract the way society at large encourages you to focus your attention on consumption and acquisition with no thought for the consequences. So stop to think, for example, when you eat: Is it just to keep yourself strong enough to fulfill your duties? Or are you, in the words of the Buddhist text, searching out the tip-top tastes with the tip of your tongue? Are you bulking up just to look good? If so, you’re fostering unskillful states of mind. Are you too picky about what kinds of food you will and won’t eat? If so, you’re spending too much time and money on your eating—time and money that could be used to develop generosity or other skillful mental states.
You have to realize that in eating—even if it’s vegetarian food—you’re placing a burden on the world around you, so you want to give some thought to the purposes served by the strength you gain from your food. Don’t eat just for the fun of it, because the beings—human and animal—who provided the food didn’t provide it in fun. Make sure the energy gets put to good use.
This doesn’t mean, however, that you should starve yourself. Starving yourself to look good is also unskillful, in that it drains away the energy you need to practice and keeps you inordinately fastened on the appearance of the body. The traditional term for wise eating is moderation in eating: having a sense of just right, of exactly how much is needed to keep you healthy and strong enough to stick with the training of the mind.
The same principle holds true for the other requisites. You don’t want to be a miser, but at the same time you don’t want to waste the resources that you or someone you depend on worked so hard to acquire. Don’t be a slave to style. Don’t take more from the world than you’re willing to give back. And learn to undo the perceptions—so heavily promoted by the media—that shopping is a form of therapy and that a purchase is nothing but a victory or a gain. Every purchase also entails loss. To begin with, there’s the loss of money that could be used to develop skillful qualities of mind—such as generosity—rather than unskillful qualities, like greed. Then there’s a loss of freedom. All too often, the things you own begin to own you. The more things you own, the more you have to fear in the dangers that can come to things, such as theft, fire, and flood. So learn to restrict your purchases to things that really are useful, and use the money you save to help advance the higher qualities of life, both for yourself and for those around you. Think of frugality as a gift to both yourself and the world.

Finding Seclusion

Seclusion enables you to look directly at the issues created by your own mind without the distraction of issues created by other people. It’s a chance to get in touch with yourself and to reaffirm your true values. This is why the Buddha advised monks to go into the wilderness, and to create a wilderness state of mind even when living in society.
There are several ways you can create that state of mind in your life. One way is through chanting. To foster a sense of seclusion around your daily meditation session, you might find it helpful to chant before you meditate. This is especially helpful if you notice that your mind is carrying a lot of issues from the day. The sound of the chanting is calming, and the words of the chanting help to put you in a new frame of mind. There are many chanting texts available online, and many sound files showing how to pronounce the words. It’s possible to chant in any of the Asian Buddhist languages, in your own language, or a combination of both. Experiment to see which style of chanting is most effective for putting you in the best frame of mind to meditate.
Another way to create the wilderness state of mind is through retreats. In addition to your daily meditation session, it’s helpful, at regular intervals, to set aside longer periods of time for meditation practice. This allows you to go deeper into your mind and to recharge your practice in general. There are two ways you can do this, and it’s useful to try both. The first is to find time every week or two to devote a larger part of the day than you normally do, to the practice. The second is to go on an extended retreat once or twice a year.
Traditionally, Buddhists set aside four days of the month— the full-moon day, the new-moon day, and the two half-moon days—for more earnest practice. This is called observing the uposatha (oo-PO-sa-ta). The most common way of observing the uposatha involves taking the eight precepts, listening to the dhamma (the Buddha’s teachings), and meditating.
The eight precepts build on the five precepts—the basic training rules observed by practicing lay Buddhists: I undertake the precept to refrain from destroying living creatures; I undertake the precept to refrain from taking that which is not given; I undertake the precept to refrain from sexual misconduct; I undertake the precept to refrain from incorrect speech; I undertake the precept to refrain from intoxicating drinks and drugs which lead to carelessness. In the eight precepts, the third precept is changed from no sexual misconduct to no sex at all. In the additional three precepts you promise yourself that for the duration of the day you’ll refrain from the following:

The sixth precept: Eating food during the period from noon until the following dawn
The seventh precept: Watching shows, listening to music, using jewelry, cosmetics, and scents
The eighth precept: Sitting on high, luxurious seats or lying on high, luxurious beds

These precepts essentially add the principle of restraint of the senses to the five precepts. Because they place limits on the pleasure you try to take from each of the five physical senses, they encourage you to examine your attachment to the body and to sensual pleasures, and to look for pleasure in training your mind instead.
Of course, you can adjust these observances to fit your schedule. For instance, you can vary the number of times you attempt them in one month. You can schedule them for days you’re normally off work. If you can’t eat before noon, you can simply promise yourself that you won’t eat food after the midday meal.
If you have friends who are meditators, you might try scheduling an uposatha day together to see if the energy of the group helps or hinders your practice. Although it may seem strange to seek seclusion in the company of others, you may find that it makes the practice feel less lonely, for you can see that you’re not the only person bucking the values of society at large. To help foster an atmosphere of seclusion in the group, agree on the amount of conversation you want to engage in. Avoid discussions of politics. Generally, the more silence, the better. You’re not meeting to teach one another through words. You’re meeting to teach and support one another through example.
As for extended retreats, there are many meditation centers offering retreats throughout the year. The advantage of centers like these is that they tend to enforce a set group schedule, which helps to structure your day. This can be important if you’re just getting started with meditation and have trouble being a self starter. Also, the work schedule tends to be minimal. Your food will be cooked for you, so you’ll have more time for formal meditation.
However, you have to be careful in choosing a good center. Many are run as businesses with sizable staffs. This drives the fees up and drives the dhamma away from what the Buddha taught and in the direction of what pleases a large clientele. Some centers will apply subtle pressure at the end of the retreat for you to give a donation to the center or the teacher(s) of the retreat, claiming that this is an ancient Buddhist custom. The tradition of giving donations is a Buddhist custom; the tradition of applying pressure for donations is not.
If the dhamma taught on the retreat goes against what you know is true, avoid the dhamma talks and meditate someplace else in the center. If you’re not sure, meditate during the dhamma talks, giving all your attention to your meditation theme. If anything in the talk is relevant or helpful to what you’re doing, it will come right to your attention. As for everything else, you can let it pass.
Even the centers run on a donation basis can teach very strange versions of the dhamma. If you sense anything of a cultish atmosphere at a center, leave immediately. If they refuse to let you leave, make a scene. Remember, you have to protect your mind.
Meditation monasteries are another alternative. They charge no fees, as everything is run on a donation basis. But because you will be expected to help with the daily chores you may have less time for formal meditation. Also meditation monasteries often don’t have set group schedules, so you’ll have to be more of a self-starter. And even here, you have to be discriminating in how you listen to the dhamma.
Choosing admirable friends, living frugally, and finding seclusion require a fair amount of renunciation, and renunciation is easiest when you regard it not as deprivation, but as a trade. In trading the pleasures of an ordinary life for a meditative life, you’re trading candy for gold. Or you may think of yourself as an athlete in training. The game of outwitting your unskillful habits is far more worthwhile than any sport. Just as athletes are willing to live under certain restrictions for the sake of their performance, you should be willing to live under certain restrictions for the sake of true happiness. And just as an athlete restricted to a healthy diet comes to prefer healthy food to junk food, you often find that the restrictions you place on the way you interact with your surroundings actually become your preferred mode of being.

Shortcomings of Loving Kindness, or Metta Revised

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Image: by egonots at Micanopy Retreat Center

In Buddhism there is something called the Loving Kindness Meditation or Metta.  It is used to feel more love and compassion towards others, especially yourself and those you have trouble with.  The meditation starts with picturing a loved one (person or animal), feeling how the warmth and joy that brings to you, then moving on to yourself “sending” that feeling to yourself, then a person you are “neutral” about, then your “difficult” person, then to all beings everywhere.

It is suggested one do this meditation often when you have a resentment or feel hurt by someone.  The idea is that instead of plotting revenge or shutting them out of your life, you wish for them all good things you wish for yourself.  It’s a tall order, but garners  powerful results, if only to get better at letting go of resentments or anger–even sadness when someone leaves you or changes.

The language used is like “May you be happy.  May you be safe. May you be well.  May you be peaceful.”  But I have been thinking about the shortcomings of the traditional metta meditation.

How can such loving kindness have shortcomings?  Because it is wishing for yourself and others feelings and states of being that are not stable.  Of course traditional metta is definitely better than chanting, “May you rot in hell”  when somebody hurts you.  But,  take “may you be happy,” for instance.  First, what kind of happiness do you mean?  Seeking happiness can lead us to chase an illusory state that is more like being drugged–”oh, I will be blissful all the time if I am happy.”  I don’t want to wish that on anyone.  Why?  That is not true well-being, the kind that lasts.  What about your “happiness” when loss and pain occurs?  It vanishes and becomes sorrow.

The same is true for the wish for safety, health and peacefulness; all are changeable, none are stable.  Wishes for all that is what got us into trouble in the first place.

I understand it is nice to feel warmth and love for ourselves and others, and that is one of the purposes of metta, but I would rather wish us all more lasting states of being.

Here is my new metta “prayer” for both loved ones and those who seemed to have wronged me

in some way:

May you see clearly.

May you have courage.

May you not fear change.

May you not fear sickness,  old age or being alone.

May you feel your oneness with all beings.

May you awaken from the illusions that cause you to suffer.

Stopping to Get Somewhere

Meditation by the Sea (oil on canvas)

Meditation by the Sea (oil on canvas) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Most of us, consciously or unconsciously, would like meditation to be a

chill-out session where we don’t have to relate to unpleasantness.

Actually, a lot of people have the misunderstanding that this is what

meditation is about. They believe meditation includes everything except

that which feels bad.”  ~~Pema Chodron

When I first started meditating I liked how I became calmer and more mindful.  What was happening is that mindfulness was new to me, as was sitting still without some distraction for my mind ( TV, reading, talking, eating popcorn or cookies). I had only experienced the “normal” state of being run by my thoughts.  I spent my life reacting to and racing with my thoughts.  But I seldom Stopped.

Gangaji tells the story that after reading self-help books, going to various therapies, workshops of every stripe, she arrived to meet  Papaji, her guru, pleading for  The Answer,  He told her to just STOP.  This he said is what she most needed to “do.”

Meditating is a way to  Stop acting/reacting/pleasing/fighting/striving.  Naturally, it feels peaceful.  At least until we start judging our experience and thinking we cannot allow “bad” feelings into our meditation.

“Buddhanature and the natural state are not just made up of happy, sweet emotions; buddhanature includes everything. It’s the calm, and the disturbed, and the roiled up, and the still; it’s the bitter and the sweet, the comfortable and the uncomfortable. Buddhanature includes opening to all of these things, and it’s found in the midst of all of them.

- Pema Chödrön, “Meditating with Emotions”

Now that I meditate on a fairly regular basis for 30 minutes at a time, I still become naturally mindful and still, but I also especially  use meditation when I am troubled.  When all I know is my old ways of thinking and doing,  at least now I have the wisdom to mostly disregard those.  My advice to myself was at best unhelpful and at worst utterly wrong.

When I can stop and sit with the negative emotions I am actually being a revolutionary.  I am revolting against the ego and my cultural conditioning by turning towards it and looking at it squarely, mindfully and with curiosity.  The ego prefers I judge and run—that could well be its motto.  Sitting I invite the pain, so I can get to know what it is.  What is it? Only thoughts.  Thoughts  triggered by a person or event that touched an old, old  inner wound. The wound hurts, but who I really am does not hurt because   I am the witness of the pain.  My false self/ego what  fears most of all to be seen; it hides and lurks in our subconscious from where it can run the show. It clings to old stories and wounds because that is all it know, all it is.  Sitting still mindfully and watching the self in pain gives the ego nowhere to hide, nothing to do. This is good, it diminishes ego’s power and frees me from being dragged around by thoughts.

So, now when I am frustrated or angry or hurt, I head for wherever I can sit quietly.  I watch my thoughts, feel the tensions in my body without judgment  and either answers come or I know I need to practice another day, and another until the answers arrive at their own time, in their own way.

I don’t need to run from fear and pain.  I need to stop.

Quote by Pema Chödrön

Quote by Pema Chödrön (Photo credit: On Being)

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