Mindfulness Yoga

The Shadow of Anusara?

2012-02-05T21:35:00.000-08:00

Whew! The following post has certainly caused a stir -- not just here but on Facebook! Considering that most of my posts garner no comments, and the most any ever did get were something like six, I got to kind of assuming no one was reading!

After reading through some comments on Christina Folosono Sell's Facebook page, I thought I would do a bit of a re-edit, both because I can see some further clarification may help, AND because I do agree that I used some terms that do not reflect "Right Speech." Worse, those terms seem to have derailed the more important point that I still heartily endorse: contemporary hatha-yoga, and Anusara in particular tend to foster a denial of duhkha and at times an almost aggressively "feel good" Pollyanna-like myopia.

For the record: I acknowledge John Friend as one of my teachers publicly, even mentioning him in the Acknowledgement section of my book, and indeed he has been an inspiring and influential teacher for me. I was a participant of one of his first Teacher Trainings as well as one of his first Yoga Therapy trainings. I attended workshops with him for several years after that and I've taken Immersions with Amy Ippolliti in New York, and with Darren Rhodes at Yoga Oasis in Tucson (where I also teach meditation).

Oh, and perhaps it is relevant to know that I am not a Buddhist.

Recently, the "exodus" of several senior Anusara Yoga teachers (including the two above-mentioned) has caused a bit of a ruffle among the wider yoga "community" (if one can even be said to exist). I am not interested in speculation nor in what it may or may not mean for John Friend or the "Anusara Kula."

What I would like to respond to is the following comments made by Elena Brower, one of those who have recently left the Anusara fold, ~~the "defectors,"~~ as it points to something I have long felt to be a "shadow" of the contemporary hatha-yoga world, and in particular of Anusara culture -- and perhaps one that merely reflects John Friend's own shadow. Elena writes:

"What I found is that I wanted more, I wanted to know how to feel as amazing in my house as I’d felt on my mat. As expansive, as calm, as beautiful, as connected, as real. I couldn’t link my behavior at home to my composure in my practice, and I needed other ways to learn how to be more remarkable as a Mama, an ex-wife, a girlfriend, and most importantly these days, a daughter. My practice was giving me feelings of fulfillment but they didn’t last, and I was still going home and acting out of alignment with my yoga, which was getting painful."

I recognize this pattern! That disconnect between "practice" and "daily life;" the lack of integration of practice and the rest of life. Here is what I wrote in my book, Mindfulness Yoga almost ten years ago, about something I experienced back in 1976:

"I began to notice that while I left the yoga class feeling the divine bliss of heaven, by the time I got off the train in Flushing, I was back in my own private hell. In fact, the bliss I was feeling in yoga class seemed ever more remote and alien to the rest of my life. Even after I had started to practice the postures and breathing exercises at home, I continued to find that whenever I wasn't "doing yoga," the peacefulness I felt while practicing continued to elude me."

What brought me to a deeper understanding was the following passage where the Buddha himself describes a similar experience he had with his yoga teachers:

"Though one may momentarily be secluded from the cycle of suffering, the watcher remains as a seed of rebirth. As soon as the situation changes, rebirth easily takes place again. This is just what happens now when I get up from meditating. No matter how profound my absorption, after a short time I get caught up again in the world of the senses. The basic causes and conditions for rebirth have not been extinguished. Complete liberation has not been achieved."

When I first read about the Buddha's dissatisfaction with the failure of his practice to fundamentally change his experience of daily life, I instantly recognized the similarity to my own experience -- how wonderfully calm and peaceful I felt after yoga practice, and yet how all too soon I fell back into the suffering of craving and aversion. And when I became a yoga teacher, I saw how many students seemed to have similar experiences. They would leave class blissed out, but as soon as they got "caught up in the world of their senses" they found themselves back amid their anxious lives -- from blissed out to stressed out. This is the "rebirth" the Buddha was talking about. The question became how do we stop this apparently ceaseless cycle, this endless emotional and psychological roller coaster? In our very lives generally, and in our own practice of yoga specifically, we can see the process of samsara, the cyclic process of "birth and death" over and over, moment by moment!

In my experience, contemporary hatha-yoga in general, and Anusara Yoga in particular, are permeated by a willful denial and ignor-ance of the reality of duhkha. I've had this "argument" with John Friend twice. Once, after I had lectured a group of Moksha-Yoga Teacher Trainees for over a week on mindfulness, buddhist meditation, and the philosophy and history of the Yoga Tradition, John Friend came to give a talk, and the very first thing he said was, "I know you've just had a Buddhist scholar here, and they are always talking about duhkha. But I come from a place of bliss." His talk degenerated from there! I was happy to hear one of the students respond to him, saying: "Frank spoke a lot about joy, but also made the point that the way to joy was through nobly facing and engaging with duhkha, not denying it or turning away from it."

Afterward, John actually did acknowledge to me that he had overstated his case, had gotten carried away, and had reduced Buddhism into a caricature. This did not stop him from, only a few years later, in my presence at one of his workshops, stooping to the same caricature.

And this is the shadow I have long seen in Anusara. Everyone is exhorted to aggressively "shine out with Shri" and it's all about bliss -- poorly understood as a super "feeling good" when the Tantric understanding of bliss is so much more subtle than that, and ultimately not reliant on feeling good at all! The bliss of the tantrika transcends the polarities of pleasure and pain. The Rainbow Body of Peace needn't be pain free. By definition, if it needs to be pain free, it is bound by those conditions and is therefore NOT freedom!

The "culture" of Anusara (echoing the culture of contemporary mainstream hatha-yoga) is fearful of the "noble truth of duhkha." A kind of hiding one's head in the sand is encouraged with lots of feel-good, empowerment/motivational speaker kind of new agey pablum designed to soothe and pamper egos so often desperate for validation. I've heard more applause at some Anusara workshops than I might hear at a concert! I've been invited to teach at ashrams where the brittleness of forced happiness, the plastered on smiles and the shying away of any discord is truly suffocating.

So, I am glad that Elena seems to have broken free ~~from the forced glee-club of Stepford Wife yogis~~ from a culture that seems to have demanded of her this kind of consensus myopia, and found a way to integrate the freedom and peace found in yoga into her life, learning, as she says, "that I can finally look at my behaviors head-on, and not flinch, but instead, HANDLE them. Talk about them. Apologize for them instead of being too proud to address them. And then – most importantly – SHIFT THEM."

It is noble and ennobling to face duhkha, to awaken from avidya (ignore-ance) and denial. A greater ease with life, the "full catastrophe," arises when one no longer HAS to feel all "shri" and happy-faced! The radical acceptance and unconditional regard we seek cannot come from denying such a fundamental aspect of life as duhkha! This is not to say that that is all there is to life! What I am saying is that in turning away from duhkha, one turns away from the path leading out of duhkha. To deny duhkha IS duhkha!

And, to rectify mis-understandings, duhkha is NOT "suffering" and the Buddha did not say "Life is suffering." He said "there is duhkha." Face it! Though mental anguish is duhkha, that is not all it is! Duhkha is the fact that sometimes you lose what you like; you get what you don't like. Duhkha is the simply fact that happiness is not to be found in circumstances!

Now, some Buddhists seem to forget that there are Four Realities for the Noble, and that acknowledging and facing duhkha is only the first. Kind of like the first step of the 12 Step Programs, it's merely the beginning! Joy and Happiness are two of the Seven Factors of Awakening. Make no mistake: the Buddha was no kill-joy! He just wanted us to understand where happiness was truly to be found.

metta
frank jude

"As Good As It Gets"

2011-11-20T16:33:00.000-08:00

The following is an adaptation of an essay I wrote in 1998 after seeing the film, As Good As It Gets the night before. It was written for the newsletter of the Community of Mindfulness/NY Metro.

What if this – this life, as it is – is as good as it gets? Does this thought, which can be understood to be a central insight, teaching and practice of (zen) buddhism, scare you? Depress you? Do you celebrate the idea with a hearty cheer? Or does it jolt you into sobriety?

There is an old story about a farmer who travels many miles to consult with the Buddha. Upon sitting at the Buddha’s feet, he tells the Buddha that he has 83 problems. The Buddha asks him about his problems. The farmer begins, “Well, I’m a farmer, and I love to farm. But last year we had a drought and we almost starved to death because of the meager harvest. This year, there was too much rain, and many of the crops were destroyed.”

The Buddha sat and sympathetically nodded his head. “Yes, go on.”

“Well, I love my wife very dearly, but I find myself growing bored and looking after other women.”

The Buddha continued to nod his head and encouraged the farmer to share his troubles.

“I have a son and a daughter. They’ve made me very proud. But they’re stubborn, and don’t take my advice,” the farmer continued.

After delivering his long litany of problems to the Buddha, he asked, “So can you help me? I hear you are a great teacher.”

The Buddha responds, “Well, it’s true you have 83 problems, and you haven’t even mentioned others like the fact that you are growing old and that you will die, and that everyone you know and love will also grow old and die.”

The farmer was aghast. Why wasn’t the Buddha helping him? Why was he loading on even more problems?

Then the Buddha said, “I cannot help you with any of those problems. But perhaps I can help you with the 84^th problem.”

Exasperated, the farmer asks, “What is the 84^th problem?”

“You want a life with no problems,” replied the Buddha.

We would like a life with no problems. Ideally, we would not grow old, infirm and die. We would not have to deal with such unpleasantness as losing our teeth, our eyesight growing dim, bad breath, wrinkles, graying and balding hair, let alone tumors, miscarriages, and the fact that, as the Golden Archies sing, “the number of ways to die is infinite.” We’d always be surrounded by the pleasant and beautiful. This is a true vision of heaven, and it is one traded on by religions, political ideologies, and advertisers. And because it’s not how our life actually is, we are led to feel discontentment and shame. We actually feel shame when our body does something innocuously natural like fart, or when our bellies make gurgling noises, let alone when our skin wrinkles or becomes diseased! And because of this conditioned shame, we spend huge amounts of money, time and energy trying to deny the fact that we are not “perfect,” distracting ourselves in myriad ways. Whole industries, anti-aging products and body enhancing surgery, are devoted to this vain pursuit. We put on a front for the world and attempt to hide from ourselves our “imperfections” and infirmities because we have been made to feel shame. The Buddha tells us that “imperfection” is real and we do not need to feel ashamed. It is “perfection” that is purely conceptual and unreal. And because we’ve fallen for this deluded conceptualization of “perfection,” we then conceptualize the real world we live in as “imperfect!” In fact, facing duhkha is noble and ennobling. Not turning away, and not exacerbating it, is the noble response taught by the Buddha. This noble response to existential reality is enlightenment itself. It is transcending the conceptual duality of “perfection” and “imperfection” and embracing just this, life as it is, perfectly imperfect!

Sitting on a cold stone wall on a cold grey afternoon in January, waiting for a dharma sister with whom I have planned to take a contemplative walk through Prospect Park. A dharma sister whom never arrives, so I sit and contemplate the film I saw last night, As Good As It Gets, as a kind of koan or hwadu.

There are many parents out with their children, walking through the park today as it is a legal holiday – Martin Luther King Day. They are pushing carriages of sleeping or crying children, many carrying bags filled with the myriad supplies required when on an outing with little diaper-wearing children. Many of these parents have older children tagging along or running ahead. There is a lot of chaos and mayhem.

Looking at all these universal and particular family street dramas, I see all the sheer effort that goes into being a parent. All the work, planning, and worry that goes into the seemingly simplest thing like a walk in the park with your kid(s). The stress that goes into bundling a squirming irritated little boy or girl to protect them from the winter cold. And many of these moms and dads will face several flights of stairs in their brownstone walkups when they get home, balancing children, supplies, and groceries, and the carriage up to their apartment. And, before they have a moment to catch their breath, the kids will be crying or pleading for something warm to eat or drink or they’ll need some other attending to. And on it goes.

This is as good as it gets.

This effort, all this drudgery, is absolutely inseparable from the incomparable joy of being a parent. Of being alive! It is all of a piece and all one. The “suffering” and the joy inter-are. The quality of mind you bring to one determines the depth of the other.

The problem is that we all too often remain blind to this truth, and thus add greatly to our suffering and discontent through our thinking that it can and should be otherwise. All these thoughts, expectations, and hopes; all these preconceptions we bring to our life as to how it should go, keep us from fully experiencing the luminosity of the present moment. Because we tend to think that if only we could “get it all together” things would be fine. And then what? We wouldn’t have to struggle to balance the carriage and the kid and the diaper bag as we make our way up the stairs? While not dropping the groceries?

In the movie, As Good As It Gets, Melvin (Jack Nicholson), fears and suspects that this life is indeed as good as it gets. So, Melvin spends much of his time and energy attempting to keep himself as separated from reality as he can. He locks each of the several locks on his door five times. He brings his own disposable plastic utensils to the same restaurant where he sits at the same table to be served by the same waitress everyday. He uses several bars of soap to wash his hands of the outside world, using each bar for only a few seconds before disposing of it in the garbage bin.

Melvin suffers from obsessive-compulsion disorder. But, except for degree, how different is he from many – if not all of us? Do we not all, to some degree or other, attempt to set up a world we can control, attempting to put as much distance as we can between us and change? Between us and the every-changing contingency of reality?

Impermanence is one of the deepest teachings of the buddha. And when we look deeply into impermanence, we see another of the deepest teachings: that of selflessness. Most of us, most of the time, are conditioned to view both change and selflessness with either fear or sadness or anxiety. But when Melvin is forced through circumstances to become the caretaker of his neighbor’s dog, the process that will lead to his opening of his fortress of solitude and his heart begins.

And here, I wish to point out a key tenet of zen buddhism (and verified by recent cognitive science research) that we needn’t have to change our thinking in order to change our behavior. In fact, we needn’t wait to change our mind, but by changing our behavior, we do indeed change our mind. Thus the phrase often heard in the zendo: “You don’t have to like it.” Melvin most certainly does not like the situation, and yet it brings about transformative, healing change!

Carol (Helen Hunt) lives, as a frustrated date tells her on his way out, “with too much reality.” Her son, Spencer, suffers from a severe respiratory and immune system malady, placing great demands on her, yet her love for him remains strong and bright.

Yet she too has her hopes, and dreams of the “normal boyfriend,” to come to her and it is up to her mother to interrupt her fantasy and tell her, “We all want that but it doesn’t exist.” This, she is telling us, is as good as it gets.

Simon (Gregg Kinnear), at the nadir of his life, ends up traveling with Melvin, the bane of his life! His quest is to return back home to Baltimore and his estranged parents in order to ask from money. When he calls from the hotel, and speaks to his mother, it is the day after an evening of re-connection to his art, inspired by Carol, and from a place of new-found strength, rethinking his situation, he refrains from asking his parents for the money. Instead, he forgives his parents, asks for forgiveness himself and just lets go. Holed up in a hotel with Melvin and Carol, it’s as good as it gets.

Early in the film, after Melvin is rebuffed by his psychiatrist, he spits out the line which gives the film its title, to a startled and bewildered waiting room filled with patients. I suspect that for Melvin, this vocalization of his deepest fear is a kind of turning point. Later, we discover that he has begun to take the pills that may help him, despite the fact, as he says to Carol, that he hates pills. “You don’t have to like it.”

When Melvin leaves his apartment to go to Carol’s house for the final sequence, he discovers (along with the audience) that he had forgotten to lock the front door. This strikes us all as powerfully meaningful. The Fortress is open and vulnerable. He is not defending himself from reality. He is about to step our into the “full catastrophe.”

When he tells Carol why he is there – because he alone can see how perfect she is in her mere being (dark circles around her eyes and all); in the way she loves and cares for her son; in the way she brings Melvin his eggs at the restaurant; how he is amazed that no one else can see this truth that shines so luminously to him, we hear the voice of prajna. This life, as it is lived in the mundane moment-to-moment flow is good. It is as good as it gets if we can only open our eyes and our hearts to this reality.

When Melvin suggests to Carol that they go out for a walk, it is Carol who fears that to go out walking at 4:30 in the morning is “insane.” She certainly doesn’t want to appear crazy! Melvin shows her how fluid reality and perception truly is – how indeed they are actually the same thing – and is we who give meaning to experience by suggesting a “legitimate” reason a couple might be out walking at 4:30 AM.

There is a bakery on the corner. By stopping off there as they open, they go from being a “crazy” couple walking at 4:30 AM to just a couple who appreciate “really fresh warm rolls” for breakfast!

Still, both have further lessons to learn this morning. Another insight needs to develop. As they walk, Carol becomes aware of Melvin’s avoidance of the cracks in the sidewalk. She stops abruptly and pulls away from him, declaring “this, whatever it is. It’s not going to work.” This is beyond her ability to accept. She is uncomfortable with the situation as it is. After another avowal of love from Melvin, he moves in for a kiss. But neither of them can completely let go into the moment. They are not fully present to the embrace. Melvin insists he knows he can do better, and then abandoning himself to the moment, surrenders to a truly passionate, fully embracing kiss that Carol herself melts into.

When they take each others hand and start walking again, the camera’s set-up leads us to believe there’s been a typical Hollywood “magic of romance” movement, because we see that they are walking along a cross-hatched sidewalk, side by side! But, as the camera pulls back, we see that while Carol is walking along the tiles, Melvin is walking on the inside of the sidewalk, where the cracks are more widely spaced! But, they are holding hands across the gulf. Is this a compromise? Or acceptance? Or is it both? Perhaps these two options are not in fact two different things. Perhaps they are one and the same, their love bridging all distinctions?

Yet, in the very last shot of the film, the bakery lights go on. As the door opens outward, and Melvin steps aside to let Carol in, he loses his balance and the toes of his left foot land on the cracks of the tiled part of the sidewalk. We see – and feel along with him – his surprise… and relief! Nothing happens. Nothing changes. And of course, everything changes! It’s okay. In the very moment that he has let go and allowed himself to be thrown off balance by thinking of someone else other than himself first, he most fully comes alive. He becomes himself, free of self-defensive compulsion and obsession.

When we are finally able to awaken to the present, with all its messiness, we can see how those things we may fear most – “things” like change and selflessness, uncertainty, and insubstantiality – are not only negative, but the very grist and foundation upon which life is lived. Change is the constant process of transformation without which there is no life. Selflessness is the fact of interdependence, of the contingent nature of reality. No-thing, and no-one, exists in isolation, no matter how much we may try to delude ourselves into believing otherwise.

In one way or another, each of the three main characters learns aspects of these lessons. Melvin’s transformation begins with his letting down his isolating tendencies – first with Verdell the dog, then with Simon and Carol. He learns interdependence as does Carol, when he offers her assistance and she overcomes her resistance to accepting his aid. In Simon and Melvin’s opening to each other, as well, the lessons of selflessness and interdependence allows change and transformation to happen; life flows and they discover deeper truths about themselves and their capacities to love.

This is how we all become more fully alive. And, it’s as good as it gets!

Some notes on "After.Life"

2011-10-24T15:35:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, Cinema Nirvana, an on-going film series I've been programming for close to two years, held at Tucson Yoga, presented After.life directed by Agnieszka Wojtowicz-Vosloo. If you've not seen it, you may want to check out the trailer.

As you might expect, the common dialogue around this film has run the "Is she or isn't she" thread to -- pardon the pun -- death! Those who are firmly convinced one way or the other seem to like the film, while those who are caught with not knowing, seem to hate it!

For a dharma talk, you'd be right to expect that some mention of the 'moral' of the tale -- which is stated baldly at least several times throughout the film -- that most of us live our lives as already dead. And dharma practice is there to help us "Wake Up!"

However, when I first saw this film, the comment made by the mortician (played to creepily fine perfection by Liam Neeson) that Anna is a corpse ("no one cares about your opinions anymore") reminded me of the famous hwadu: Who carries this corpse?

Hsu Yun was a renowned Chinese Chan (Zen) master, and extremely influential. He lived from 1840 to 1959, dying at the age of 119. Here's a "poem" written by him, from which the famous hwadu comes:

Years Months Days Hours

One year and then another. 

Appearances gradually change. 

Bone marrow shrivels.

Eyebrows thin away.

This time-limited body is like a mound of slurry.

In the Triple World, earth, air, fire and water mingle and change. 

This is all our emotions allow us to notice. 

And their sight obstructs our view of Heaven.

One month and then another. 

The light and dark pass like melting snow. 

No part can be kept for long. 

Only the Dharma does not come or go.

The lacquer bowl suddenly breaks. 

You are like the Dragon of Heaven - born to be lively and free. 

A roc can't live in a crane's nest. 

A little jiaoliao bird needs to stay near mosquito ponds.

One day and then another. 

They never wear themselves out. 

Give up your judgments about everything. 

It's all insubstantial in the end.

All things under the sun come to an end and dissolve. 

Spend what time you have in honest simplicity. 

Just one breath of the Eternal 

Admits you to the Great Chamber.

One hour and then another. 

Inexorably march, step by step. 

Whenever I meet you, we each smile. 

But who is it who drags your corpse around?

Steadfast and unchangeable. 

Always mindful of this or that. 

You're young and strong. Exert yourself! 

Don't wait... oh please don't wait 

Until you're much too old and weak.

“Who drags this corpse around?" The hwadu (Korean; hua tou: Chinese) takes us right to the essence of Chan. Generally, most folk are more familiar with the koan, an apparently irrational or paradoxical story used in Zen Buddhism as a meditation technique. The hwadu is considered the true 'turning word' from the koan. For instance: "Does a dog have buddha-nature?" asks the student of Master Joshu, who replies, "Mu!" is the complete koan. Mu is the hwadu.

For many, practicing with a hwadu may seem too abstruse, difficult and bizarre. The very way to approach working with one seems alien or insurmountable. I mean, counting the breaths, working with a mantra or visualization can be challenging enough, but to struggle with "What am I?" or "What is it?" can be truly mind-boggling!

One issue is the belief that certain circumstances are necessary to practice such a demanding practice. Hsu Yun warned us about this point:

"There are cases of the enjoyable state of purity and cleanness realizable in stillness but not realizable in disturbance. For this reason many meditators avoid disturbing conditions and look for quiet places. They do not realize that they have already agreed to become servants of the demon of both stillness and disturbance."

Note how often we find ourselves struggling to find the right conditions for meditation and the cultivation of a "spiritual" mind amidst the chaos of our lives. We may feel that we need stillness and isolation to practice, withdrawal from the round of daily life. But a central teaching of the Zen tradition is that anyone can awaken to intimacy with life, and nobody can start from anywhere other than where they are at the moment. As Hsu Yun emphasized, to separate conditions of "stillness" from "disturbance" in order to find the ideal condition for meditation is to have already succumbed to error.

When working with a hwadu, it is like being told to open our eyes in a totally dark room and being told to look . In working with a hwadu (or koan) we use the same mind we use to explore the world of the senses; but we turn that faculty inwards instead of outwards, as the Korean Master Chinul said, "tracing the radiance back." And truly, at first all we see may be murky darkness, but before long that darkness becomes illuminated from within by a most brilliant light.

A hwadu is designed to take us beyond where our conditioned minds alone can take us. By forcing the mind to its very limits, we enter into a whole new way of perception – a more direct perception independent of the mind's more gross filtering machinery. The traditional Zen teachings is that we can go beyond all conditioning, but I believe that as neural beings, such unmediated "perception" is a fantasy. What we go beyond is the identification and attachment to social, cultural and some biological conditioning, but as all this 'going beyond' occurs in the body/brain, there is no going beyond all 'filters.' For instance, we can only see the colors and forms we see as conditioned by our optic systems, including the brain. What Zen practice can do for us is to allow us to see the colors free of conditioned association, and that's a lot!

The fact that work on the hwadu is expected to continue during times not set aside specifically for meditation provides us with the implication that the examination of a is not intended to be a merely rational, discursive part of the thinking process; it is rather about developing a "feeling" of doubt -- or as I prefer, questioning -- and slowly acquiring the skill to carry it with us at all times. We can argue with our spouse, change soiled diapers, be mindful of doing the washing-up after dinner, showering and shaving… all while being aware of the doubt, questioning just "who is performing this action?" There is nothing that can happen in our lives that we cannot use to give rise to this enquiring, doubting, mind. We can always ask ourselves "Who feels?," "Who thinks?", "Who is in pain?" "Who feels defensive?" "Who hears the train whistle?"

And as we practice, the easier it becomes to give rise to this feeling. When we least expect it, the breakthrough happens revealing the perfectly clear unambiguous answer to our hwadu. When that happens a blissful flowing energy -- what the early Buddhists called nibanna-dhatu -- is felt throughout the bodymind.

The hwadu "who drags the corpse" is a sword designed for cutting through to the heart of "who". The "corpse" referred to in the question does not simply refer to the physical body. In Buddhist teachings -- common to the wider Yoga Tradition, mind is also a part of this body, a part of this corpse. As all the six senses come together on this hwadu, a curious thing happens: we "see" the who and the corpse as the same thing - the duality vanished. The sense of an individual self vanished. It's this realization of anatta (not-self) that we are led to find by this practice.

An integral aspect of the essential reality of "not-self" is realizing that our form is not a unified and permanent whole, but a collection of interacting attributes that come together and move apart; a fluid but impermanent relationship of conditions. In Buddhism, these conditions are referred to as the five skandhas -- "heaps" or "aggregates". The "corpse" that we carry is the totality of these temporarily-bonded skandhas. Think of a pile of laundry: we call it "the laundry" as if it were a unified 'thing,' when in fact it is a heap of undies, socks, shirts, etc.

The five skandhas are physical form (rupa), which is the "meat body." Secondly, there are our feelings (vedana), the actual felt-sense of the body, including whether it is pleasant, unpleasant or neutral. Thirdly, there are our perceptions (samjna), our tendency to notice, to label, to describe, and to perceive. Fourthly, there are our mental formations (samskaras) which are more difficult to describe, but might be recognized as ideas, beliefs and emotions which are formations based on feelings and perceptions, which create attitudes and perspectives unique to us. Finally, there is consciousness itself (vijnana). It enlivens and animates the other four skandhas.

Together, these skandhas change, interact, coalesce and create the personal sense of "I." It is this manufactured "I," identifying with the corpse, that the evasive "who" of the hwadu hides behind.

Looked at this way, the skandhas are this corpse. There is no duality between body and mind in this hwadu. The deepening examination of "who" it is that enlivens this corpse reveals a nexus of awareness that seemingly both transcends and "indwells" this body, this mind, these perceptions and feelings, this limited personal consciousness. The duality is, like all dualities, apparent: a product of our perception (one of the skandhas). This "who" is not a part of the personal self. It is not anything. We use the word "who" as we look within, but we know we will not find anyone. How could we? Anything found would simply be another entity, another being limited by its own point of reference, its own beginning and end. But we ask "who" in order to pierce deeper into that emptiness that is at the core of our own personal self.

Another example here: we say, "It is raining," and forget that there is no "it" separate from the rain. In a similar way, we talk of "our feelings," or "our ideas" as if there is some entity behind, beyond, below or above the changing phenomena of feelings and ideas. But try to find it and "it" cannot be found!

Every moment of every day, and not simply in seated meditation, reality itself asks this hwadu. Who are we? Who is it that responds to each thought, each perception, each feeling? The answer cannot be any of the skandhas for we are not our bodies, ideas, perceptions, forms or changing energies. So what is this who?

As we ask "who drags this corpse" and as we look deeper into this space of unknowing, we find that as our focus deepens, our words, and the corpse, falls away. Finally we are left with just who? And what then?!

Putting aside our self-images, our hopes, fears (aren't they two sides of the same thing?) and memories (at least just for the purposes of pursuing the "not-knowing" necessary for working with the hwadu, ask, as full-heartedly as possible, as intimately as possible:

Who?

September 11th, 2001

2011-09-10T22:55:00.000-07:00

Like you, I'm sure, I've heard talk about 9/11 memorials for weeks, and this week a real ratcheting up of reminiscences -- some deeply moving and personal, and some typical so-called patriotic blathering.

I wish to mark the day by re-posting the following from my old blog: Karuna Notes, that I posted the day after September 11th. Sadly, the US took the reactive low road, and we are indeed a poorer nation for it. But for those of us living in NYC in those first few weeks after 9/11, we know -- we remember -- there was a shining luminosity of the heart shared by all of us. We had, however fleeting, a vision of the pure land.

in metta-karuna,

poep sa frank jude

Wednesday, September 12, 2001

September 11, 2001

Yesterday, very much more than the Manhattan skyline was altered. America's psyche itself was utterly changed by the horror we (no matter where we live) experienced. What could hardly be thought, actually happened. With no TV, my wife and I listened to the shock in the voice of a local NYC reporter describing the fire pluming from Tower 1. We heard the horror in his voice as it reached a shrieking peak as he witnessed the second plane bearing in on Tower 2 and hittng it in a fire ball that was felt over a mile away.

Other reports, later, spoke of the "strange" calm and orderliness of the crowds as they walked through the streets and across the Brooklyn Bridge. I suspected it was evidence of shock. And of course, there was shock, but when I finally saw pictures, I saw, along with the grief and anguish, a palpable strength, determination and resolve. I felt I was witnessing the deep source of what is best in humankind -- here in the midst of the consequences of the worst of that which we are capable. I was moved to tears by the reports of aid given to each other by "victims," by the quick response of "average" New Yorkers, along with the valiant efforts of the City's fire, police and rescue operations. And of the death of so many of them -- true bodhisattvas.

But I was also dismayed at some of the "news" commentators and politicians and their quick talk of war and retribution. Mayor Guilliani, in a news briefing, told New Yorkers not to lash out at New York's Arabic/Muslim community, for that would be coming from the same hatred and prejudice that was at the root of the terror itself. I am pretty sure he was unaware of it, but he was paraphrasing the Buddha who counseled, "Not by hatred is hatred dispersed, but by non-hatred." Those who call impulsively for retaliation suffer from both fear and a stunted imagination. Yes, I can understand the fear, but after millenia of trying to do away with violence and aggression with violence and aggression, haven't we yet learned that it just does not work?!

To give in to our most base instinct is to betray what makes us truly human. If we capitulate to our own anger and hatred, we lose the possibility of transforming this tragedy into what it could become -- a watershed in the evolution of the world and of society. If we give in to blind rage and fear, we learn and change nothing, but if we respond with awareness, compassion and understanding, we give meaning to what otherwise is the senseless death of too many.

"Look how he abused me and mistreated me.... Live with such thoughts and you live in hate," says the Buddha. And look how quick we are to point fingers and try to assign blame. We sure do want to pinpoint the blame, and yet we fail to even look at, let alone pinpoint the causes and conditions. For this would require some real thought and some deep "soul-searching." To point to "the other" as evil is to objectify and diminish in denial the inter-connectedness we live within. "How is it that we can be the object of such hatred?" might be a question that could spur some real creative thinking. What is our responsibility for the existence of such hatred in the world?

Please, I AM NOT saying that justice should not be served. Those who are "directly responsible" must not be allowed to get away with this heinous crime. But blindly acting out of rage and some mixture of righteousness and victimization will only fan the flames of hatred in the world -- and not serve to bring peace or safety to anyone. We can only have peace when we live from peace and when we have done all we can to insure that all beings can live in peace.

Recommendation

Promise me,

promise me this day,

promise me now,

while the sun is overhead

exactly at the zenith,

promise me:

Even as they

strike you down

with a mountain of hatred and violence;

even as they step on you and crush you

like a worm,

even as they dismember and disembowel you,

remember, brother,

remember:

man is not our enemy.

The only thing worthy of you is compassion --

invincible, limitless, unconditional.

Hatred will never let you face

the beast in man.

One day, when you face this beast alone,

with your courage intact, your eyes kind,

untroubled

(even as no one sees them),

out of your smile

will bloom a flower.

And those who love you will behold you

across ten thousand worlds of birth and dying.

Alone again,

I will go on with bent head,

knowing that love has become eternal.

On the long, rough road,

the sun and the moon

will continue to shine.

_--- Thich Nhat Hanh

September Daily Practice: Wisdom Practice -- Equanimity

2011-09-05T12:36:00.000-07:00

Well, with this posting, this blog marks it's first anniversary. I'm wondering if those who have signed on as followers could offer some feedback on what has been helpful, what hasn't been so helpful and what you'd like to see on this blog. In a nutshell, I'd like this blog to be of service to you and all those who wish to live more mindfully, and I'd also like it to be more 'interactive.' In looking over the past year, there's been less and less comments made, and I wonder what this signifies?

As for this month's Daily Practice, I'm sharing the fourth of the Four Immeasurables, the one that can be most challenging, and yet is ultimately the foundation and nourishment needed to expand the other three (friendliness, compassion and joy) 'immeasurably!'

A lot of people I know avoid reading the paper first thing in the morning—being confronted with all of the injustices and bad deeds in the world is an unsettling way to start the day. It’s difficult to read about the latest corporate finance scam or the obscenity of human trafficking and keep your peace of mind, and it’s even harder to know how to respond. The conflict feels even more immediate when you witness an unjust act firsthand, or are yourself the recipient of one, whether it’s having your wallet stolen, your car broken into, or any sort of hurtful behavior directed your way. The answer to this problem is upeksha, or equanimity, the fourth of the brahmaviharas. This state of mind allows us to respond to the nonvirtuous deeds of others, and indeed, to all of life’s fluctuations, in such a way that we are, as Buddhist scholar Peter Harvey describes it, the opposite of the way James Bond likes his martini: Stirred but not shaken. When we cultivate equanimity, we’re moved by injustice in the world and motivated to make things better, but our deep inner serenity is not disturbed.

Sometimes translated as indifference, upeksha is not a bland state of neutrality. In fact it means we care, and care deeply about all beings evenly! The Buddhist tradition’s understanding of upekkha or equanimity is one of balance. A balanced heart is not an unfeeling heart. The balanced heart feels pleasure without grasping and clinging at it, it feels pain without condemning or hating, and it stays open to neutral experiences with presence. Insight Meditation teacher Sharon Salzburg speaks of equanimity as a “spacious stillness of mind,” within which we can remain connected to others and all that is happening around us, while remaining free of our conditioned habit of grasping at what is pleasant and pushing away what is unpleasant.

One way to experience equanimity is to experiment with mindfulness meditation. Rather than fixing one-pointed attention on a single object such as the breath or a mantra, mindfulness meditation involves the moment-to-moment awareness of changing objects of perception. Mindfulness is like a flood light, shining awareness on the whole field of experience including sensations, emotions, and thoughts as they arise and pass away in the dynamic, ever-changing flux that characterizes the human experience of body and mind. Mindfulness allows you to see the nature of the unfolding process without getting caught in reactivity, or into being overly identified with it as ‘self,’ and this insight changes your relationship to the mind-body. The waves keep coming, but you don’t get swept away by them. Or as Swami Satchidanada often said, “you can’t stop the waves but you can learn to surf!” This ability to remain balanced amidst ever-changing conditions is the balance of equanimity.

There’s an old story that illustrates the wisdom of this state of mind. A farmer's most valuable asset is the one horse he owns. One day it runs away. All the townspeople commiserate with him, "Oh, what terrible luck! You've fallen into poverty now, with no way to pull the plow or move your goods!" The farmer merely responds, "I don't know if it's unfortunate or not; all I know is that my horse is gone."

A few days later, the horse returns, and following it are 6 more horses, both stallions and mares. The townspeople say "Oh! You've struck it rich! Now you have 7 horses to your name!" Again, the farmer says, "I don't know if I'm fortunate or not; all that I can say is that I now have 7 horses in my stable."

A few days later, while the farmer's son is trying to break in one of the wild stallions, he's thrown from the horse and breaks his leg and shoulder. All the townspeople bemoan his fate: "Oh, how terrible! Your son has been so badly injured, he'll not be able to help you with the harvest. What a misfortune!” The farmer responds, “I don't know if its a misfortune or not; what I know is that my son has been injured.”

Less than a week later, the army sweeps through town, conscripting all of the young men to fight in a war... all except for the farmer's son who is unable to fight because of his injury.

The fact is, you can’t know what changes your life will bring, or what the ultimate consequences will be. Equanimity allows for the mystery of things; the unknowable, uncontrollable nature of things to be just as they are. In this radical acceptance lies peace and freedom – right there in the midst of whatever pleasant or unpleasant circumstances we find ourselves in. When we open to the truth that there is actually very little we can control other than our own reactions to circumstances, we learn to let go.

Cultivating the qualities of kindness, compassion, and joy open your heart to others. Equanimity balances the giving of your heart’s love with the recognition and acceptance that things are the way they are. However much you may care for someone, however much you may do for others, however much you would like to control or wish that things were other than they are, equanimity reminds you that all beings everywhere are responsible for their own actions, and for the consequences of their actions.

Without this recognition, it’s easy to fall into compassion fatigue, helper-burnout, and even despair. Equanimity allows you to open your heart and offer as much love, kindness, compassion, and rejoicing as you can, while letting go of your expectations and attachment to results. Equanimity endows the other three Brahma-Viharas with kshanti – patience, persistence, and forbearance. So you can keep your heart open even if the kindness, compassion and appreciative joy you offer to others is not returned. It is equanimity that brings immeasurability or boundlessness to the other three Brahma-Viharas.

If you practice asana, your practice can offer a good opportunity to become better at recognizing where, when, and how you get caught in or swept away by reactivity, and to observe your attachment to results. You might even observe an attachment to results in your motivation to practice in the first place! The desire to feel good and avoid the unpleasant might very well condition your whole experience of practice. But fixating on the results can cause you to miss key aspects of the process. As you continue in your asana practice, at some point it’s likely that factors outside your control—anatomical realities, injury, aging or illness – will affect your practice. When they do, you have a chance to practice equanimity by letting go of your attachment to the results you had been seeking. Equanimity gives you the energy to persist, regardless of the outcome, because you are connected to the integrity of the effort itself. Equanimity allows me to feel inspired by the beauty of the backbends modeled by B.K.S. Iyengar in Light On Yoga, knowing my back will never be able to accomplish them, and enjoy practicing the backbend I can do today.

In The Bhagavad-Gita Krishna tells Arjuna that this attitude of focusing on the action without attachment to the outcome is yoga: “Self-possessed, resolute, act without any thought of results, open to success or failure. This equanimity is yoga.” Similarly, Patanjali tells us in Yoga Sutra I:12 - 16 that abhyasa, continuous applied effort, coupled with vairagya, the willingness to observe experience without getting caught in reactivity to it, will lead to freedom from suffering.

For a formal practice to cultivate equanimity, begin with some calming breaths, or a mantra meditation. Once you feel calm, reflect on your deepest desire for happiness and freedom from suffering, both for yourself and others. Contemplate your desire to serve the needs of others and to be compassionately engaged in the world. Acknowledge both the joy and the suffering that exist throughout the world; the good deeds and the evil ones. As you continue to breathe into your heart’s center, acknowledge the necessity of balancing your desire to make positive change in the world with the reality that you cannot control the actions of others.

Bring to mind the image someone for whom you have no strong feelings one way or the other. With this person in your mind’s eye, repeat the following phrases to yourself, coordinating with the out-breath if you like:

“All beings like yourself are responsible for their own actions.”

“Suffering or happiness is created through one’s relationship to experience, not by experience itself.”

“Although I wish only the best for you, I know that your happiness or unhappiness depends on your actions, not on my wishes for you.”

“May you not be caught in reactivity.”

Feel free to use similar, appropriate phrases of your own devising. After a few minutes, shift your attention to your benefactors, those who have offered you support and assistance throughout your life, including teachers, friends, family, as well as the unseen workers who keep the societal infrastructure working. Silently repeat the phrases to yourself as you contemplate these benefactors.

After several minutes, begin to reflect upon your loved ones, directing the phrases to them, followed by the difficult people in your life. While feeling kindness, compassion and joy for those we love comes more easily than it does for those with whom we have difficulty, it is often the opposite with equanimity. It’s a lot easier to accept that those we dislike are responsible for their own happiness than it is for those we care for deeply since we feel more attachment to them. Whatever your experience, simply note any reactivity and see if you can be equinanimous with your reactivity!

Broaden your reach after a few minutes to include all beings everywhere throughout the world, and then finally concentrate contemplating equanimity in regards to yourself, noticing how taking responsibility for your own happiness and unhappiness can feel the hardest of all.

“All beings, including myself, are responsible for their own actions.”

“Suffering or happiness is created through one’s relationship to experience, not by experience itself.”

“Although I wish only the best for myself, I know that my happiness or unhappiness depends upon my actions, not my wishes for myself.”

“May I not be caught in reactivity.”

When you cultivate metta, the friendly quality of kind regard, karuna, the compassionate response to the suffering of others, and mudita, the delight in the happiness and success of others, it is equanimity that ultimately allows you to truly expand your capacity to experience this kind of boundless love for those beyond your immediate circle of friends and family, opening to the infinite capacity of your heart to embrace all beings.

Upeksha Bhavana: Cultivating Equanimity

The meditation and cultivation of equanimity helps create and sustain a balanced mind that remains calm and at peace within all the changing circumstances of life; what Zorba, the Greek calls, “the full catastrophe.”

Preliminary Practice: Begin with some calming breath or mantra meditation. When you are experiencing some modicum of calm, begin the cultivation of equanimity.

Basic Practice: As with the previous meditations. Especially here, if there is any agitation or anxiety present, return to calming, stabilizing breath work.

The Phrases:

All beings are the owners or heirs of their karma.

Appropriate action leads to good results; inappropriate action leads to bad results.

Everyone must face his or her own situation.

Although I wish only the best for you, I know that your happiness or unhappiness depends upon your actions, not my wishes for you.

May I (you, he, she, they) not be caught in reactivity.

Use these and other appropriate phrases.

The Traditional Sequence of Upeksha Bhavana:

1. To a neutral person.

2. To benefactors.

3. To loved ones.

4. To difficult people.

5. To all beings.

6. To yourself.

Book Club: "The Body of Truth" by Ajahn Amaro Bhikkhu (Part 3)

2011-08-18T22:53:00.000-07:00

Whew! It's taken me some time to get back to this! There's much in this chapter worth speaking about, but I'm going to be brief, just jot down some notes, and see if there's any takers wishing to comment and dialogue. Otherwise, next post, I'll begin comments on the final chapter, Michael Stone's concluding essay.

First, the section "Responsiveness Rather Than Reactivity" pretty much sums it all up! I often talk about how practice takes us from the conditioned patterns of reactivity to more creative, wholesome, liberated responsiveness. To be able to respond is to also take responsibility. In the Zen ordination ceremony, the "Gatha of Atonement" (or "Repentance") is chanted three times to emphasize that when we take this path up, we are saying we are no longer viewing ourselves as "victims," and that from now on we take responsibility for our actions. Only in doing so can we ever live as free beings.

In "Mother Nature's Valium," Ajahn Amaro points out a basic physiological fact: when the body is tense, the mind will be tense and active; when the body is relaxed, the mind relaxes. Have you ever noticed, for instance, your hands clutching the steering wheel of your car while you are driving? Next time you do, quickly reflect on what's going on in your mind, and I can bet you will have been lost in thought, either planning or ruminating or fretting..... Conversely, the next time you find yourself lost in thought, do a quick scan of your body, and I can bet you'll find you are holding tension somewhere! The good news is that with this awareness, you can use either 'active mind' or 'tense body' as "Bells of Mindfulness," awaking you to "suchness," the topic of the last section of this chapter.

Ajahn Amaro, speaking of the word tathaagata) says: "is that Buddha quality completely transcendent -- utterly gone? Or is it immanent in the physical world -- completely here, present now? The term is perfect in that it carries both these meanings and indicates that the two, embodiment and transcendence, do not exclude each other in any way." I go further in saying that "transcendence" itself is a completely immanent, embodied experience and reality. As a "Zen Naturalist," I do not believe that there is some separate "transcendent realm" outside the physical world. What is transcended is our notions about what that physical world is.

I like how he adds: "This attribute of suchness then carries with it the spirit of inclusivity, being the point of intersection of the embodied and the transcendent, of time with timelessness. It directs us toward finding spiritual fulfillment in the suchness of the embodied mind, here and now, rather than in some abstracted, idealized 'me,' some other place and time, or in some special uber-heavenly state we might reach through withdrawal of senses." This is fabulous writing! And it's important to keep in mind just how tenacious the tendency to seek some such "uber-heavenly state" is in our culture! Religions of all types trade on such promise!

Boundless Joy: The Delight In Being

2011-08-02T21:45:00.000-07:00

“We hate it when our friends are successful,” sang Morrissey, the mope-rock, singer songwriter and former leader of The Smiths. And while “hate” may be overstating the issue, a quick Google search of that song finds hundreds of articles and blogs quoting Morrissey, with people sharing the dark, not-so-secret fact, that rather than celebrating others’ successes and happiness, we often react with envy and jealousy. And the flip side of this human quirk is the guilty delight, or schadenfreude, we feel when others fail, as evidenced by so much of the popular reaction to celebrities’ foibles and misfortunes.

It’s as if we had internalized the notion that there’s only so much happiness, joy, or good fortune to go around, and that if others are happy, there must be less available for us! This must be an age-old problem, and certainly not one limited to contemporary society, because already, over 2,000 years ago, both the Buddha and later, Patanjali, taught the practice of mudita, the third of the Brahma-Viharas, the yogic teachings on love, as an antidote to this notion that we need feel threatened or diminished by the happiness of others by cultivating the ability to take active delight in others’ good fortune.

The Classical Yoga tradition warns that feeling envy is painful and disrupting of our own mental well-being. The tradition singles out cultivating delight in virtuous people. “Don’t envy them; don’t try to pull them down. Appreciate the virtuous qualities in them and try to cultivate them in your own life,” Satchidananda writes in his commentary on Patanjali.

Speaking from the Buddhist yoga tradition, where the Brahma-Viharas are also known as the “Four Immeasurables,” or “Limitless Ones” the Dalai Lama speaks for a kind of ‘enlightened self interest.’ As he puts it, there are so many people in this world it simply makes sense to make their happiness as important as our own, because then our chances of delight are increased. If we are only happy for ourselves, there are many fewer chances for happiness. But if we can be happy when good things happen to others, then our chances for delight are increased “six billion to one!”

I try to remember this myself when I find myself on a long line, like at the bank. Rather than fall into impatience or envy of the folks toward the front of the line, I imagine their relief when they are called to the teller’s window and feel happy for them. By the time it’s my turn, I’m feeling pretty darn happy myself!

The root of the word mudita means “to be pleased, to have a sense of gladness.” The Buddha called mudita “the mind-deliverance of gladness” because this joyful delight actually liberates our hearts and minds. While the mainstream Buddhist tradition tends to translate mudita as “empathetic or altruistic joy” to emphasize our over-coming of envy and jealousy by taking delight in the happiness of others, as Thich Nhat Hanh points out, this is too limiting a definition because it discriminates between self and others. In Teachings On Love, he writes: “A deeper definition of mudita is a joy that is filled with peace and contentment. We rejoice when we see others happy, but we rejoice in our own well-being as well. How can we feel joy for another person when we do not feel joy for ourselves?”

So much of our unhappiness comes from the negativity we hold towards ourselves and toward others. Through our judgments, comparisons, and envy we suffer from a sense of aloneness and lack. Because there are so many constricting impediments to truly opening up to joy, mudita is often said to be the most difficult of the Brahma-Viharas to cultivate. Perhaps because of this very difficulty, mudita can be a powerful liberating force, freeing us from the sense of isolation and self-constriction. And, thankfully, there are many ways we can create the conditions for opening to joy, in asana practice, meditation, and throughout the day.

Whether in my own asana practice, or when teaching, when focusing on joy, I find it helpful to follow John Friend’s advice to “look for the good.” To counter-act the mind’s tendency to fixate on what’s “wrong” with a posture – or with any of life’s experiences – we can actively look for what is “right.” This is not a Pollyannaish denial of duhkha – the unsatisfactory and painful aspects of life. After all, mudita follows the first two Brahma-Viharas: metta, the friendly, non-judgmental accepting quality of what is, and karuna, the compassionate opening to whatever physical, emotional, energetic and mental ills you may be experiencing. We cannot open to real joy if we are caught in aversion or attachment. A psychotherapist I worked with once said that the most pain avoidant people have the least joy in their lives.

The Buddha said that all experiences can be categorized as being either pleasant, unpleasant or neutral. When we cultivate joy, we focus more on the pleasant, but the neutral too can help grow more joy. Thich Nhat Hanh offers the example of the “non-toothache.” When you last had a toothache, you knew for sure that it was unpleasant and that to not have a toothache would be pleasant. But now, you overlook the joy of the non-toothache because it is “neutral.” By bringing attention to the fact that your teeth do not hurt, you may feel a gentle smile of appreciation arise. The neutral quality of experience, through mindfulness, can be the nourishment for greater joy.

A deep, and long relaxation is a must when cultivating joy in our asana practice. While lying in shavasana, you can “touch” various parts of your body with your loving attention. For instance, bringing attention to your eyes as you inhale, send an “inner smile” to your eyes, full of gratitude and appreciation for them as you exhale. Spend a few breaths, smiling to each part of your body. As you move your attention through your body, you do this for your limbs, your inner organs – even, and especially for those parts of the body you may be less than satisfied with – developing greater joy and deeper appreciation for what is.

This practice of cultivating appreciation and gratitude can be taken off the mat and practiced throughout the day. A student shared with me that she felt that life had lost its “flavor” and had become rather empty. As part of her practice, I asked her to spend some time at the end of each day, reviewing her day and making a list of five things that brought her some joy. I emphasized that these need not be “big” things; that perhaps seeing a child laugh while a puppy licked its face could bring her some joy. At the end of one week, she asked if she had to limit her list to five things. She said she found that there were many joy-filled experiences, even on her darkest days. Without denying her sadness and heavy spirit, she was finding that all was not dark. As Leonard Cohen says, “the joy kept breaking through.”

Somewhat paradoxically, the contemplation on impermanence can also enhance our ability to touch joy. The Buddha thought the contemplation of impermanence so important he called it one of the three “Dharma Seals,” saying that without an understanding of impermanence, one could not fully penetrate the Dharma, meaning both his teachings and the real nature of things. I know for myself that the awareness of the impermanent nature of all phenomena – including myself – makes me more sensitive to the effervescent nature of experience. When awake to impermanence, I do not take any one or anything for granted. I stay in touch with what’s happening, and feel the joy of simply being awake to life.

As the mental obstacles to joy are so pernicious, it is important to stay alert to their presence as soon as they arise. When we are judgmental, the mind becomes rigidly attached to how it thinks things should be. If we are judgmental of ourselves, chances are we are also judgmental of others. Mudita, being nonjudgmental, accepts that others can find happiness in things that we would not. Can we accept that others may choose to live their lives differently from us and feel happy for them? Viveka, or discernment is still required, of course. Unfortunately, many people delude themselves as to what makes them happy, and in fact create unhappiness for themselves or others. But if people are genuinely happy and they are not harming themselves or others, mudita is the practice of sharing in their happiness.

Comparing mind is another major obstacle to feeling joy. Whether we compare ourselves to others as better, worse, or the same, we are falling into the trap of “conceit.” Comparing can never bring peace or joy because there is no end to the possibilities of things we can compare ourselves to! While it’s obvious that comparing ourselves as “better” or “worse” is painful, it may seem surprising that even comparing ourselves as “the same” or “equal” to others is considered “conceit.” The problem is, that all comparing is looking at others in order to define oneself. It is evaluating our self worth in reference to others, when the spirit of mudita and the other Brahma-Viharas affirms that we innately deserve to be happy. When we truly believe and understand that deep reality, we can take delight in the happiness of others instead of feeling threatened by it. Our relationship to the world becomes one of communion rather than competition.

The formal practice of mudita-bhavana (joy cultivation), celebrates the happiness of all beings – ourselves included! In fact, through the growing insight into the interdependent nature of the world, we see that the happiness of “others” is indeed our happiness.

To enter into the spirit of mudita-bhavana, it is helpful to recall your own innate goodness. Bring to mind a time when you said or did something that was kind, generous, caring or loving. If nothing comes to mind, turn your attention to a quality in yourself that you enjoy or like about yourself, some skill or talent perhaps that you can recognize and appreciate. If still nothing comes to mind, simply reflect on the basic “rightness” of your innate wish to be happy.

Then begin to offer yourself appreciative and encouraging phrases acknowledging the joy and happiness you’ve experienced in life.

“May I learn to appreciate the happiness and joy I experience.”

“May the joy I experience continue and grow.”

“May I be filled with joy and gratitude.”

Of course, you are free to create any phrases that have an appreciative intention, and as you send these wishes to yourself, open yourself to whatever feelings arise in your body and mind. Notice what – if any – reactivity is provoked by the practice. Don’t expect to instantly feel great joy and appreciation. As a “purification practice,” sometimes all we see is our lack of appreciation and the mind’s judging reactivity. Simply note whatever arises, and return to the phrases, with as much friendliness and compassion you can muster.

After directing these phrases to yourself for a while, the traditional sequence moves on to a benefactor, defined as someone who has inspired you or offered you aid in any way.

“May you experience joy and may your happiness continue.”

“May you be filled with appreciation for your happiness and success.”

“May your happiness and good fortune continue.”

“May you be successful and met with appreciation.”

Following a benefactor, the sequence moves on to a loved one or friend; then towards a neutral person, defined as someone you barely know – maybe even a stranger for whom you have no strong feelings one way or the other. Following the neutral person, we see if we can include sending these phrases and connecting to feeling joy and delight for the happiness and success of the “difficult” people in your life; perhaps someone you envy, but generally those whom you have shut out from your heart.

“May your happiness and joy increase.”

“May the joy in your life continue and grow.”

“May you be successful and met with appreciation.”

If it becomes too difficult to send to a difficult person, acknowledge this with non-judgmental acceptance, and return to sending these phrases to a loved one or yourself. Trust that in time, your heart will expand to include even those for whom you now feel resentment and envy.

Finally, with the understanding that all beings wish to be met with appreciation, we send these phrases to all beings throughout the world. Imagine radiating these positive thoughts from your immediate environment, out in all directions, sending appreciative joy-filled wishes to all beings in existence. When you feel ready to end the meditation, take some time to simply sit with your feelings, and your breath, honoring whatever you experience.

In the Buddhist yoga tradition, the practice of “sharing merit” is another antidote to the idea that the happiness of others means there’s less for us. When we feel that there is a fixed amount of happiness in the world, we fall into an embittered, resentful state of competition with others. Yet, happiness, like love, increases when it is shared. Sharon Salzberg, the Buddhist meditation teacher, describes merit as a power that is born in and grows through acts of goodness. Sharing this merit itself is a powerful, wholesome action that generates its own power. When you give away your merit to others, your own merit increases! Happiness does not diminish in our hearts when we share it. It isn’t a commodity limited in such a way that it has to be rationed.

When we share merit, happiness, or love with all sentient beings, by the very nature of our own sentience, we are included! There is no real separation between “us” and “them.”

In this spirit, I would like to offer the version of “sharing merit” that I like to end all my classes with:

“Whatever merit we may have generated through our practice together

We now dedicate and offer all of it

to all sentient beings throughout the world, equally.

May our thoughts, our words, and our actions

Bring benefit to the world.”

Mudita-Bhavana

The salient characteristic of joy is a gladness that celebrates the happiness of others. It is the opposite of envy and jealousy. Ultimately, through the insight of no-separation, the happiness of “others” is our happiness.

Preliminary Practice: Bring to mind the image of a benefactor whose happiness you share in. Begin with the following phrases:

May your happiness and good fortune continue.

May your success and prosperity continue.

Basic Practice: The same attitude as previous meditations (metta and karuna).

The Phrases: The two above and/or other appropriate statements.

The Traditional Sequence of Mudita Bhavana:

1. To a benefactor and then a loved one or friend.

2. To someone you envy.

3. To other individuals.

4. To groups of people.

5. All beings, known and unknown to you.

Book Club: "The Body of Truth" by Ajahn Amaro Bhikkhu (Continued)

2011-07-14T12:19:00.000-07:00

Whew! Long time between posts about this book, eh? There’s been a lot going on, what with becoming a granddad and heading off to Hong Kong, having a group of wonderful folks studying the Precepts for Taking Refuge and all!

I've also noticed that there's been not one comment on this month's Daily Practice of karuna-bhavana. I hope at least some of you are joining me in this practice this month! What's up?

Last we left off, we were making our way through Ajahn Amaro’s offering: “The Body of Truth.” As a forest-dwelling monastic, he speaks of “the body of the forest” teaching us. We may wonder what this has to say to us who live in the ‘concrete jungles’ or even just suburbia or the rural countryside. He says “there’s a profound physicality involved in living in a wild environment” and that is true indeed! Yet, living in Brooklyn, the sheer physicality of getting to the Laundromat, the post office and back home in one afternoon was pretty physically demanding!

“The forest,” he writes, “itself is recognized as our body, even the great earth itself,” and I would hope that no matter where we live, we come to recognize that! It’s not so much where we live, but how we live where we are that allows us to see the truth in that statement. The water than flows out of the faucets in our kitchens comes from rivers, mountain snow melt and deep wells. We drink it and it becomes this body here, reading these words. No separation.

Finally, the uncertainty of forest life is not really different from the uncertainty of any life, and we had best, as Ajahn says, “let go, recognizing that that uncertainty is part of the intrinsic nature of all things.” A practice I sometimes offer is “One-Way Practice.” Whenever you go to do something, even simply getting up from your desk to go to the rest room, take a ‘one-way ticket.’ After all, you’ve got absolutely no guarantee that you’ll be coming back to your desk! And yes, Cathy, life is that uncertain!

In the next section, “The Body of Truth and The Body of Fear,” Ajahn Amaro makes the important case that our routine identification with emotional states is a leading cause of duhkha. In the following section, “Embodying the Mind: The Case of Fear,” the practice he is advocating is pretty much what I suggest to those caught in strong emotional storms: drop out of the cognitive aspect of the experience and really turn to what it feels like in the body. Where is the sensation? What are its qualities? In effect, what we are doing is investigating the mental formations as they exist in the body. It can be rather difficult to ‘just see’ emotional states, but the energy of mindfulness can more easily be cultivated to contain the pre-cognitive state of feeling (vedana).

Of course, this requires the persistent, diligent practice of mindfulness so that we ‘build a bigger container,’ or else even the feelings – if they are intense – will seem to overwhelm us. I like that he uses the phrase I first heard from Tara Brach: “radical acceptance.” Such a mental stance strikes directly at the ‘picking and choosing’ that keeps us from true intimacy with life as it is.

metta

July Daily Practice: Karuna-Bhavana

2011-07-03T16:30:00.000-07:00

How would you like to be unconditionally loved and accepted, just as you are, without having to be or do anything special? What would it be like to feel truly, completely, radically accepted, without feeling that you had to hide or deny or apologize for any aspect of yourself? We all crave this kind of love and acceptance, but fewer of us can honestly say we offer ourselves such unconditional regard. The trouble is, if we cannot love and accept ourselves just as we are, we will find it difficult to love anyone else in such a limitless, unconditional way, let alone all beings. And perhaps even more unsettling to contemplate, if we are fortunate enough to find someone who accepts and loves us unconditionally, how can we receive that love if we haven’t fully accepted ourselves?

Karuna is related to the word “karma,” and it is the intention and capacity to relieve and transform suffering, to lighten sorrow. While karuna is generally translated as “compassion,” which literally means “to suffer with,” Thich Nhat Hanh, the Buddhist monk and teacher, has pointed out that we don’t need to suffer ourselves in order to alleviate the suffering of another person. Doctors, for instance, do not have to suffer illness in order to relieve their patients’ pain. The Buddha described karuna as the “quivering of the heart” we experience when we are open and able to truly see suffering and are moved to do something about it.

After expressing metta karuna to yourself as the essential foundation for being able to offer genuine love to others, the next step is to direct these phrases to benefactors—those who have been good to you and for whom you feel respect and gratitude, such as your parents, friends, teachers, or anyone else who has helped you in any way. After benefactors come beloved friends, a category that emphasizes family members, lovers, friends, and animal companions. These are beings whom you already hold dear in your heart.

The next step is to direct the phrases toward a neutral person, someone you have no strong feelings for one way or the other. Perhaps it’s someone you see around your neighborhood but do not know. The tricky thing is to find someone you are truly neutral about—as you do this practice, you’ll become more aware of how quickly we tend to size up strangers and get a feeling about them. When I first began to practice metta karuna, I was living in Brooklyn, and there was an older man who walked his dog down my street several times a day. I knew nothing of this man, and realized I had no strong feelings about him, so I chose him as my neutral person. And then a funny thing happened. After several months I realized I could no longer send him love as a neutral person. While I still did not know anything about him, I found that I had come to really care for him! When I brought up his image, I felt the familiar warmth of concern and kindness. He had moved into the “beloved friend” category.

After the neutral person, this practice challenges us to send metta karuna to a difficult person. This is someone toward whom you feel anger, fear, or a lack of forgiveness, someone you perceive as having hurt you in some way. It is important to be patient with yourself when sending love to a difficult person. Begin with the less challenging difficult people in your life; over time, you can work your way up to the really challenging difficult people. While practicing, if strong emotions arise, you may need to honor the limits of your present capacity and simply go back to directing love and compassion toward yourself. Go back and forth between yourself and the difficult person, reflecting on how much pain holding on to these feelings is causing you.

The final step in the practice is to direct metta karuna toward all beings. If you like, before this you can choose to send metta karuna to more specific groups of beings such as those in prisons or hospitals, or those who are hungry, abused, or homeless. Don’t forget other species, as all beings wish to be happy and free from suffering just as you do. And that’s just where this Buddhist practice ultimately takes us: to wishing that all beings everywhere, seen and unseen, great and small, are happy and free from suffering.

Off the mat and throughout the day, we can cultivate metta karuna by simply paying attention to all of the opportunities to do so. As we wait in line at the grocery store, we can send metta karuna to the others in line, the stock clerks, and the cashier. Walking down the street, we can send karuna to the homeless woman sitting beside her shopping cart containing her belongings. And if we notice that aversion arises when we see that homeless woman, we can send some to ourselves as well.

I’d like to share a practice that I, and many students, have found invaluable for transforming our relationships with all of the people and situations that life presents, and which I first presented here as a short daily practice. The first thing every morning, we set the intention to cultivate metta karuna throughout the day by reciting the following gatha:

Waking this morning, I smile,
A brand-new day is before me.
I aspire to live each moment mindfully,
And to look upon all beings
With the eyes of kindness and compassion.

Karuna Bhavana: The Practice of Compassion

Compassion desires all beings to be free from suffering. The word karuna, etymologically related to karma and kriya suggests that it is ultimately not just a feeling of empathy, but the motivation to do something to relieve the suffering of the world.

Preliminary Practice: Contemplate the aspects of difficulty in your life, whether physical or emotional. Be willing to love yourself even as you struggle and suffer.

Basic Practice: As above.

The Phrases:

May I be free from suffering.

May I hold myself with softness and care.

May I be free from the suffering caused by greed, anger, fear and confusion.

May I experience ease of body and mind.

The Traditional Sequence of Karuna Bhavana: As above. You may wish to conclude with the following:

May the hungry be fed; may the unloved be loved; may the imprisoned be freed. May all beings everywhere be free from suffering.

First Stage Metta Bhavana: Remembering The Good Within You

2011-06-02T23:46:00.000-07:00

After sitting with your breath for several minutes, calming the body/mind, call to mind something you have said or done that you feel was a kind or 'good' action. It could be a time you were generous, caring, or contributed to someone's well-being. Perhaps you offered a bowl of fresh, cool water to a stray dog near your home. Perhaps you helped a child-laden mother gather up some fallen groceries. It most certainly need not be anything "big."

If something comes to mind, note if a feeling of happiness arises at the recollection. The Buddha encouraged us to water happiness by remembering it. In fact, this practice is part of the "Four Supreme Efforts" listed under "Right Effort," the sixth limb of the Noble Eightfold Path.

If a feeling of happiness does indeed arise at the remembrance of your kind action or words, simply allow yourself to 'bask' in the tender warm glow. If nothing comes to mind, then gently turn your attention to a quality you like about yourself. It can be a skill, ability, or strength within yourself that you can recognize. Again, it needn't be anything big and 'special.' Perhaps you bake a really good apple pie, and maybe you like to share it with friends.

What is beautiful about this practice is how the tradition seems to 'bend over backward' to make it available to all of us, because if you cannot recall a time you acted or spoke generously, and if you cannot think of a skill, ability or quality you like about yourself, you can simply reflect on the primal desire you have -- like ALL beings -- to be happy! The desire to be happy is good, natural, beautiful and has a sense of 'rightness' about it.

If in any of the above reflections, impatience, irritation, anxiety or fear should arise, please don't fall into negative self-talk. See if you can return to your breath, stabilize your body/mind, and then return to the contemplation free of judgment. The real heart of any meditative practice is to let go and begin again and again and again....

It doesn't matter if the mind wanders countless times in any session of practice; in the moment you recollect it, you are already 'beginning anew!' There is nowhere your attention can go to, and no length of time it can be distracted, from which you cannot simply let go, and in that very moment, begin anew!

metta
poep sa frank jude

June Daily Practice: Maitri/Metta Bhavana

2011-06-01T22:56:00.000-07:00

The Buddha taught that cultivating a kind and loving heart with a love for all creation is the most important dimension of our spiritual practice. The Pali word metta (Sanskrit: maitri) has two root meanings. The first is “gentle” as in a gentle misty rain that in falling, does not pick and choose where it falls. It simply falls with no discrimination. The second root is “friend.” A good and true friend is one who is constant in good times and bad. The culmination of metta is to become a good friend to all of life.

While many folk believe they can love others unconditionally, I have found that if you cannot open and accept yourself unconditionally, it is truly not possible to do so for others. Sadly, it is not even possible to receive such love from another if you do not first have it for yourself. The Buddha said there is no one more deserving of your love than yourself. In befriending yourself, you open the door to your heart so that others can abide within.

Preliminary Practice: Take some time to recall your own goodness; calling to mind a time we did or said something that was kind, generous, caring or loving. If nothing comes to mind, reflect on some skill or talent that you possess. It could be something as apparently insignificant as making a great pasta sauce! If still nothing comes to mind, simply reflect on the basic “rightness” of our innate wish to be happy. The fact is, this practice is truly accessible and available to all of us!

Basic Practice: After settling in on the breath and having completed several minutes of preliminary practice, begin to repeat the following phrases, or others of your own choosing, that express what you most deeply wish for yourself. You can coordinate the phrases with your breath or not, as you prefer. Let the pacing and tone be gentle. When the mind wanders, or if difficult feelings arise, simply notice in a spirit of kind acceptance, and gently come back to repeating the phrases.

The Phrases:

May I be happy.

May I be peaceful.

May I be safe from harm.

May I be free from suffering.

May I have the ease and joy of well-being.

The Traditional Sequence of Metta Bhavana:

1. To Ourselves. This is the essential foundation for being able to offer genuine love to others.

2. A Benefactor. This is someone who has been very good to us, for whom we feel respect and gratitude. I had a blind student who would send metta to her guide-dog, so truly any being who has benefited or supported you can be included here.

3. A Beloved Friend. This can include family members as well and also companion animals.

4. A Neutral Person. This is someone we have no strong feelings for one way or the other. Perhaps someone we see in the neighborhood but do not know. It can be hard to find someone we truly feel neutral toward, as we so quickly assess and judge others when we meet them, so try to find someone truly neutral!

5. A Difficult Person.* This is someone with whom we have experienced conflict; someone toward whom we feel anger, fear, or a lack of forgiveness. Someone we perceive as having hurt us in some way. It's advised not to begin with the most difficult or abusive person in your life. Start with the small irritating folk! Some students find that they themselves are the difficult person, or some aspect of their personality fits the bill.

6. Groups or Categories of Beings including animals, those in prison, those who are hungry, people with AIDS etc.

7. All Beings Everywhere

* Be very patient and gentle when working with a difficult person. If difficult feelings arise, you may need to return to directing metta to yourself. Go back and forth between yourself and the difficult person, reflecting upon how much pain holding onto these feelings is causing you.

Please take up this practice this month, and share whatever effects you find coming up. Don't be alarmed if it feels like you cannot access this feeling. Sending love to a closed or defended heart is also part of the practice. Also, as a purifying practice, be aware that unpleasant feelings and thoughts may arise. Simply continue with the phrases, and if you ever feel like you are growing overwhelmed, return to the calming breath awareness practice.

When you finish practicing, sit quietly for a few minutes, simply opening yourself to your experience, without analyzing or judging it.

This practice is done as a formal meditation, but you can also do 'on-the-spot metta,' sending it to anyone around you as you walk down the street, sit in a bus or on a train etc.

metta

poep sa frank jude

Book Club: "The Body of Truth" by Ajahn Amaro Bhikkhu

2011-05-23T21:22:00.000-07:00

It’s with the sequencing of this essay, following mine and Jill Satterfield’s, that I believe Michael Stone’s editorial expertise shines. With Jill, we read a personal account of mindfulness practice directed to the body. With my chapter, there’s the explicit tying in of the Buddha’s teachings to the larger Yoga Tradition and the explication of the Four Foundations of Mindfulness. Here, in Chapter 12, Ajahn Amaro emphasizes the body as the path of truth – Dharma itself.

First, the Ajahn emphasizes how the body and mind in the Buddha’s teachings are not seen as two radically different phenomena. While they are not generally seen as “identical,” they are seen as completely interdependent (for the most part; traditional Buddhism posits a form of consciousness that can indeed exist independently of the body, and which links one life to another).

In the section “Dimensions of Nature,” Ajahn Amaor explains the concept of namarupa, and its five component khandhas (also known in Sanskrit at skandhas). He then goes on to introduce the other “patterns” or “models” that are used in the Buddhist tradition to describe the human condition: the six senses (ayatana) and the elements (dhatu).

His second section, “Mindfulness of the Body” for the most part, reiterates some of the salient points I make in my essay. What I especially appreciate in Ajahn Amaro’s section is his distinction of the Buddhist emphasis on the body and the ‘mundane’ aspects of life for liberation, in contradistinction to the typically ‘transcendent’ and ‘withdrawal’ understandings of ‘enlightenment.’

In “The Present – Full of Useful Possibilities,” Ajahn Amaro points out how the body is always experienced as ‘present’ while the mind can appear to be caught up in the past and future. It is this very ‘present-oriented’ nature of the body that Buddhist meditation takes as it’s opening to limitless potential for freedom. As he writes, “…since the body is always in the present, the simple recollection of its presence is a surefire method to key the attention into the reality of the way things actually are.” And it is too often forgotten by students seeking some ‘other-worldly’ experience that seeing things as they really are is the door to the wisdom of liberation!

His section on “Walking Meditation,” though short, explains the importance of this practice for the cultivation of mindfulness. By extension, other forms of conscious movement – such as hatha-yoga, Tai Chi and various forms of martial arts and even weight-lifting -- can be developed as forms of mindfulness meditation. This is still something I find many students not fully grasping! They seem to fixate on sitting meditation as the be-all and end-all of meditation practice! Apparently, as the Buddha himself aged, and suffered from various physical ailments, walking meditation became his preferred method of practice.

Finally, for this post, I’ll end with a few words about sila, the ethical teachings of the Buddhist tradition. Ajahn Amaro says about sila that it is the “basis of practice.” I would go as far as saying that sila is the whole of the Dharma. Currently, a group of students I am working with are going through intensive sila study and practice with the ‘goal’ of taking refuge. They are beginning to see sila as real, on-the-ground mindfulness training. They are also seeing sila as more guidelines to freedom than restrictions or prohibitions. As one student said, “When I practice sila, I find myself free of many anxieties, concerns and sufferings I thought were simply part and parcel of life!” Ajahn Amaro refers to the precepts as “rules,” but I think that term misses the living spirit of sila.

I’ll post a concluding post on this chapter later this week, but for now, I’d be happy to hear any comments from those of you who have been reading along. OR, even from those of you who have not read the book, but have been following this blog ‘book club.’

May Daily Practice: Walking Meditation

2011-05-01T22:17:00.000-07:00

Walking Meditation is not simply preparation for sitting, and not merely something to do between the "important" work of sitting meditation while on retreat. No, walking meditation is a full-on mindfulness practice in its own right; one that the Buddha seemed to favor as he grew older and apparently experienced the pain of rheumatism. It is also one of Thich Nhat Hanh's favorite forms of practice; one he emphasizes often, even offering up a book and dvd on the practice.

When ordaining into the Tien Hiep Order (Order of Interbeing), established by Thich Nhat Hanh, one even vows to make all of one's walking, 'walking meditation.' One image Thay uses when presenting this practice is to recall the legend of the Buddha's first steps after being born: under each footfall, a lotus blossomed. Thay points out that often while walking, we are lost in thought, anxieties about the future, thoughts of the past, 'imprinting' our worries into the earth. With walking meditation, we can feel at home where we are, each step a kind of embrace or kiss of the earth.

There is the practice of formal walking meditation, where we walk slowly, sometimes as slowly as a full cycle of inhalation and exhalation with each half-step. OR, you can take a half-step as you inhale, and another half-step as you exhale for a more 'moderate' pace. If you wish to take up this formal practice, mark off a path (best to be at least 25 feet or so) that you will walk back and forth on at this slow pace.

However, it would be inappropriate to walk this slowly throughout most of your daily activities, but that doesn't mean you can't do walking meditation! I've even done it on Fifth Ave off 42nd street in Manhattan at lunch hour and no one would have known from just watching! Simply bring your attention to your feet, lifting, moving and being placed back on the ground while feeling your breath. Avoid manipulating the breath. You may find that you take 5 half-steps on an inhalation and 8 half-steps on your exhalation. That's fine. Some folk even count: "In-in-in-in-in; out-out-out-out-out-out" as they walk. If you find such noting or labeling is helpful, then by all means try it. If you find it gets in your way, let it go!

One way to work this into you life is to choose to do this as you walk to your train or bus. If you work in an office, you can do it every time you walk from and to your desk (on the way to the restroom for instance). When I walk to the cafe with my daughter in the sling, I often practice this way -- especially once she's fallen asleep as she often does almost immediately when carried in the sling.

I'd really love to hear from any of you who choose to take up this month's practice. Where are you doing walking meditation? How are you finding it? You can begin at any time and comment here whenever you'd like.

And remember, as Lin Chi, the Chinese Zen Master, is reported to have said: "To walk on water is not the miracle; to walk upon the earth is a miracle."

Walking Meditation Gatha:

The mind can go in a thousand directions.

But, on this beautiful path, I walk in peace.

With each step, a gentle wind blows.

With each step, a flower blooms.

metta,
poep sa frank jude

Mindfulness Yoga: The Four Foundations of Mindfulness

2011-04-25T12:01:00.000-07:00

Well, there have been no other comments or questions regarding my chapter in Freeing the Body, Freeing the Mind, so I won't be posting anything more about this chapter unless I hear from any of you.

Look for a post on the next chapter, "The Body of Truth," by Ajahn Amaro Bhikkhu later this week.

in metta,
frank jude

Book Club: "Mindfulness Yoga" by Frank Jude Boccio

2011-04-02T11:09:00.000-07:00

Well, it had to happen sooner or later! We’re up to Chapter 11 in Freeing the Body, Freeing the Mind and that means we’re up to my contribution to the anthology. Rather than any comment I make now being merely a reiteration of what I’ve written in the essay, I thought I’d fill in a bit of the ‘back-story’ here and leave it to you, my dear readers (there are some of you, yes?) to respond with any comments or questions. I’d be especially interested in hearing from any of you who have practiced the Four Foundations of Mindfulness through your asana practice. How has it been for you? Do you feel it has made a difference in your practice? Have you had any insights you’d like to share?

Opening Introduction:

It should be obvious that I take the position of Georg Feuerstein, that Buddhism sits firmly within the wider Yoga Tradition he speaks of in his tome entitled, simply enough, The Yoga Tradition. To my mind, it is obvious. But what you may want to know is that I came to this understanding through my own ‘self-study’ of both texts (practice-oriented, history and philosophy texts as well as my own practice and experience) before I had come across Georg’s work. In fact, it was reading his work and finding a wonderfully clear enunciation of my understanding that drew me to study with him at the first and only YREC (Yoga Research and Education Center) Yoga Teacher Training.

It should also be obvious that perhaps it’s a bit of a bête noir of mine, but it really irks me when people talk about “yoga and meditation” as if they were two things, or even “Buddhism and yoga” as if they were two completely different things! To my mind, it only makes sense to differentiate between “Buddhism and Classical Yoga” which is to say, the specific darshana or philosophical viewpoint espoused by Patanjali in the Yoga-Sutra. But buddhadharma, the teachings and practiced taught by the Buddha is nothing if not a fully realized, comprehensive, coherent model of yoga. His Nobel Eightfold Path is as much a yogic path as the Eightfold Path or the Kriya Yoga model found in the Yoga-Sutra.

This is essentially the jist of my opening paragraphs. The other main point I make there is that one of the fundamental principles of all forms of yoga shared by all is the concept of duhkha. Sadly, this concept is badly mis-understood by many in the hatha-yoga camp and has led to much confusion and straw-man parrying. All yoga arises as a response to the existential human situation – impermanence and the mortality that implies. And, all yoga postulates that we – and all phenomena – are not what we, or they, appear to be. Through this mis-perception of how things really are, we fall into duhkha.

I’ve even had a bit of a discussion with John Friend over this, as he has a tendency to put-down Buddhism’s emphasis on duhkha, saying how his path celebrates life and is about sri and “bliss.” To me, he has admitted to over-stating this, and in fact distorting the truth, because he does understand that duhkha is the First Noble Truth. If you stop at that, you are NOT talking buddhadharma, which is nirodha, the cessation of duhkha (the Third Noble Truth).

One other point I express in the essay, I wish to emphasize here, is that “yoga” means “yoking” as much as it does “union.” Those yogis who only talk about yoga as “union,” I believe both distort and miss an essential aspect of yoga as practice, for much of actual practice is the yoking, the restraining or containing of our conditioned reactivity. It is this restraint (a form of tapas) that allows for the freedom to choose a more skillful way to respond to life’s challenging situations.

In fact, neuro-science shows us that the impulse to act precedes our consciousness of the impulse to act by around 0.3 seconds! That means, action is conditioned, and we are unaware of our first beginnings of the impulse to act. There is no absolute, acausal free-will! However, with mindfulness, we create a bit more ‘temporal space,’ about a half second, and in that ‘gap,’ we can inhibit our action. Thus, our free-will is the ability to restrain our conditioned reactivity. This is the yoking of yoga.

I look forward to hearing from you!

Metta

Poep sa frank jude

April Daily Practice: Enlighten Up!

2011-03-31T23:06:00.000-07:00

April.... it's Spring in the Northern Hemisphere, but if you're in the Southern Hemisphere, it's a good time to "enlighten up" as well!

What do I mean by "enlighten up?" Primarily, it's not taking ourselves all that seriously all the time. It's learning to smile at our 'foibles' and 'follies.' One of my favorite "Dalai Lama Stories," is told by Sharon Salzberg. Apparently, the Dalai Lama was interested in having a tour of Gethsemene Monastery to see how they managed to be self-sufficient. As usual, he was accompanied by a retinue of other Buddhist teachers (including Sharon) as well as the ever-present media.

During the tour, the Dalai Lama learned that the monastery makes both cakes and pastries as well as cheese. At the conclusion of the tour, the abbot presented the Dalai Lama with a big wheel of cheese. The Dalai Lama took the wheel of cheese in his hand, looked at it, then looked up with that marvelous twinkle in his eyes and said, "But I was hoping for a cake!" And then he burst out in his famous belly-laugh! When I heard Sharon tell this story, she remarked that in that moment, she realized that if she had been in the Dalai Lama's position, she too would have preferred the cake, but would have played the "Spiritual Person" part and accepted the cheese with a smile (while feeling disappointment inside).

The Dalai Lama, however, showed that he could not take his role, his identity, or his preferences so seriously that he couldn't laugh at himself!

So, this month, perhaps we can remember (sati, usually translated as "mindfulness" actually refers to remembering) to 'enlighten up' when we catch ourselves taking ourselves overly seriously. We can set the stage by sitting up at the side of the bed when we awake in the morning and placing our hands in anjali, (palms pressed together at the heart) and smiling while taking three breaths. Then, throughout the day -- whenver we find ourselves lost in that serious drama in our heads -- we can pause, practice smiling anjali, and take three breaths. If we are in mixed company, we can skip the anjali, but please, don't skip the smile and three breaths! :-)

AND, really.... I would LOVE to hear from more of you! There are 124 "Followers" of the blog, and I would really like to hear from you! Please offer any ideas for future "Daily Practices" as well as sharing how these practices are for you.

in metta, and with a big smile,
poep sa

Book Club: A Twisted Story by Jill Satterfield

2011-03-10T14:34:00.000-08:00

Obviously, as the nature of this chapter is so personal, and simply put, one person’s story of her yogic path, I am not about to address it as I have the other chapters. There is no ‘agreement’ or ‘disagreement,’ no real comments possible, other than the following.

I had the pleasure and honor of finally meeting Jill (I had had some brief e-mail exchanges back when I lived in NY) during the first Spirit Rock Mindfulness Yoga Teacher Training, where she shared her story with the group. I was moved then, and I was moved once again while reading her story.

I think it should be manifestly clear from her story just how non-dual the body and mind are. My teacher, Samu Sunim, always spoke of mindbody (which more or less translates the Sanskrit term namarupa). Rupa is form, and in particular refers to the body, and nama, from which we get the word, “name,” refers to what in Buddhism would be called the other four aggregates (skandhas): feelings, perceptions, mental formations and consciousness.

Even before I met Jill, we bonded over an e-mail exchange where she wrote me to offer her agreement and gratitude in response to a letter to the editor I had had published in Shambhala Sun. My letter spoke to the point that in the Buddha’s teaching of the First Foundation of Mindfulness, it is eminently clear that all activities of the body, from walking, bending, reaching, and twisting or turning to the side to defecating, urinating, eating and bathing can – and should become – expressions of practice. Jill says the same thing in the section entitled “Sitting Straight” when she writes: “…practicing a Yoga posture became just another shape in which to meditate.” My only comment would be to say, make that ‘hatha-yoga posture’ as Yoga itself is meditation – or perhaps more precisely, the meditative ‘stance’ or attitude of mind.

As she states in the section “Straight To The Heart,” with the awareness a master teacher such as Jill brings to her teaching, the postures of hatha-yoga can indeed become a “doorway into the mind,” and one that may often be more accessible to many folk who would find sitting meditation much too difficult to engage in. Mindfulness of the body “in the body” is the meditative approach to cultivating greater intimacy with the body – and seemingly paradoxical – just what allows one to come to the realization that body is not-Self! In order to touch the water of the ocean, one must penetrate the wave. The wave is the ocean; form is emptiness. Yet, we cannot touch the water without touching the wave; emptiness is form!

March Daily Practice: Mindful Eating

2011-03-02T11:31:00.000-08:00

Ah, March is here and Spring is in the air. Here in Tucson, our windows and doors are open, the birds are singing, the chickens are laying, and the hiking is lovely!

For this month, I thought we’d take up the practice of “Mindful Eating.” Now, before any of you grumble and complain, I am not necessarily suggesting what you should eat, nor how, other than suggesting chewing your food a bit more than you most likely do now. There’s no need to count your chews or anything, but notice when the urge to swallow arises, and simply chew a few more times, savoring and noticing any changes. What have you been avoiding by swallowing when you normally do?

I remember the first time I participated in an “Apple Meditation,” eating one apple mindfully. I found that my conditioned tendency was to swallow as soon as the intense sweet taste started to fade. By continuing to chew, I found that the taste became a bit ‘sour’ or tart, then bitter, until eventually, the skin was just about all that was left and it had a definite ‘astringent’ quality. This amazed me!

In Ayurvedic teaching, there are six ‘tastes’ (rasa): sweet, sour, salt, pungent, bitter, astringent. These can be thought of as forms of prana or even ‘intelligence.’ When we eat the apple just for its sweetness, we only assimilate one ‘code of intelligence.’ No wonder one apple is rarely ‘fulfilling.’ I found that when I chew the apple, and experience the other tastes (four of the six!), I actually feel more satiated from the apple. It’s like I assimilate more of the energy/intelligence the apple has to offer.

In any event, we can practice a very simple form of Mindful Eating, by first sitting down to eat; turn off the radio or tv; and refrain from reading while eating. If you have the opportunity to eat an occasional meal in silence, that’s great!

The following “Contemplation” and “Meal Gatha” are simply ‘bells of mindfulness’ allowing us to take a few moments to really look at, and acknowledge, the food we are about to consume. As Thich Nhat Hanh has said, if we do not pay attention to the food, it is not real to us, and we cease to be ‘real.’ "If the broccoli is real, we are real."

At Plum Village, the following Five Contemplations are said before meals. As you will see, they are a specific form of the traditional Meal Gatha:

1. This food is a gift of the whole universe – the earth, the sky, and much hard work.

2. May we live in a way that makes us worthy to receive it.

3. May we transform our unskillful states of mind, especially our greed, and learn to eat in moderation.

4. May we take only foods that nourish us and prevent illness.

5. We accept this food so that we may realize the path of practice.

Meal Gatha

First, seventy-two labors broght us this food; we should know how it comes to us.

Second, as we receive this offering, we should consider whether our virtue and practice deserve it.

Third, as we desire the natural order of mind to be free from clinging, we must be free from greed.

Fourth, to support our life, we take this food.

Fifth, to attain our way, we take this food.

First, this food is for the Three Treasures.

Second, it is for our teachers, parents, nation, and all sentient beings.

Third, it is for all beings in the six worlds.

Thus we eat this food with everyone.

We eat to stop all evil,

To practice good,

To save all beings

And to accomplish our

Buddha Way.

Please, enjoy your food, and do please share your practice here at the Mindfulness Yoga Blog. What kind of reaction or response arises when you read and contemplate the above verses? What is your experience of slowing down (a wee bit) and really savoring what is on your plate?

in metta,

poep sa frank jude

Book Club: The Buddha and The Yogi: Paradigms of Restraint and Renunciation by Mu Soeng

2011-02-11T17:22:00.000-08:00

I was looking forward to Mu Soeng’s chapter, and for the most part, was not disappointed! In fact, personally, along with Chip Hartranft’s, Goldfield and Taylor’s and Powers’ chapters, this one by Mu Soeng is one of my favorites.

His opening paragraph makes his the first to really address the “commodification” of Yoga and Mindfulness found in this book (Freeing the Body, Freeing the Mind). And ironically, there’s been a lot of words shared in the blogosphere around the argument as to whether this is a good thing or a bad thing! For some reason, those with the most vested interest in the popularity of Yoga (in particular) seem to take offense with anyone speaking up and saying – as Mu Soeng puts it – “something seems to be missing; something fundamental to the raison d’etre of both traditions.” I don’t see anything controversial about such an assertion, and yet, there seems to be many who take offense at such an observation.

I am delighted that more and more people are becoming aware of the liberating power of mindfulness. Yet, without articulating it, many remain unaware of the ‘ultimate’ liberating nature of mindfulness in regard to our culture’s consumerist worldview. Even at the time of the Buddha, he said that mindfulness goes against the grain in it’s vision of “individuals and society grounded in restraint and renunciation, in simplicity, in doing away with the clutter of possessions, and so on.”

When Lululemon tights go for $100.00 and more, I think it safe to say we may have lost sight of the deeper truths Yoga and Mindfulness offer. The three major sources of suffering, according to the Yoga Tradition (including Buddhism) are greed (craving), hatred (aversion) and delusion (ignore-ance). The Yogic way of life is one that seeks to counter-balance these three ‘poisons,’ through the “yoking” involved in meditation (as well as pranayama and asana practice).

Where things get a bit hairy is when the Yoga Tradition creates a cosmological and ontological “samsara” that one seeks to liberate oneself from. This makes not being ‘reborn’ into the best thing you can do with this life. IF one takes this in a purely metaphorical, psychological way, as does the modernist Buddhadasa Bhikhu, then I have no problem with this. But when we reify this understanding into a cosmological worldview, then this life tends to be devalued. In fact, this devaluation is addressed by Mu Soeng as a "positive hermeneutic." This is something, as a naturalist, I wish to avoid.

When we remember that “samsara” is not a place but a process; “the process of craving and clinging; of greed, hatred, and delusion,” as Mu Soeng writes, then we can utilize this humanistic, psychological understanding. In fact, other scholars have also pointed out that to think in terms of “entering nirvana” is also inappropriate as nirvana is also not a place but it too is a process! As ugly as it may sound to our ears in English, the Pali can best be translated – according to these scholars – as “nirvanizing.”

I really appreciate Mu Soeng’s speculation regarding the two competing ‘value systems’ with that which adopted Shiva (the god of asceticism) and that which adopted Vishnu (the householder’s god). Certainly, I don’t think it can be argued otherwise than that the Buddha clearly preferred the way of the renunciant over that of the ‘dusty house-holder.’ However, to his credit, he did teach householders, and recognized many as becoming fully awakened arahants.

As Mu Soeng points out, we “moderns” wish to have our cake and eat it too. I think that to at least some degree, this is what lies behind the huge popularity of so-called “tantric” based forms of hatha-yoga. “Everything is divine” goes the party line, so why hold back from enjoying all life has to offer. Why indeed? But is enjoyment really what one seeks? And if so, is it the enjoyment of a string of ephemeral experiences, possessions and relationships?

Bikram poses with his 50 Rolls Royces, and the obscenity of this seems to escape all too many students and practitioners of yoga! One may say, it’s fine if one is not attached to the cars. But I would argue that there is more than one’s level of ‘attachment’ that is at issue here.

Now, Mu Soeng’s conclusion is where I part company with him! He seems to feel that the only alternative to living a mainstream, consumerist life is “to align oneself with the worldviews of these traditions if one is to go beyond the habits of consuming desires…”

If he means we need to align ourselves with the ideas of going against the stream of our craving and grasping, our aversion and delusion, than I’ve no argument there. But that is – to my mind – a far cry from aligning with the worldview that life, in particular the householder life, is something to escape from!

As I think I have done in my Zen Naturalism blog, one can and perhaps ‘should,’ contextualize one’s contemporary spiritual views and intentions based upon modern, even secular, humanist, naturalist worldviews. We needed take on tradition supernatural, dualistic, transcendentalist worldviews to avoid commodification of the teachings and practices. As I tell my students, while I am old enough to have protested the Vietnam War, hung out at C.B.G.B.s and make ‘punk’ movies, there is nothing as counter-cultural and radical as attempting to live mindfully and simply.

FEBRUARY DAILY PRACTICE: Right Communication

2011-01-30T07:42:00.000-08:00

For this month’s Daily Practice, I thought I’d share a practice with you that I have been doing for close to 20 years: Telephone Meditation. Then I thought that rather than limit it to just the telephone, I’d expand it to include e-mail and texting (which, though done on a phone, is still a different medium for communication).

First, let’s review Telephone Meditation. For many of us, the phone is at times a distraction, at times a task-master and oppressor. When the phone rings, many of us have been conditioned to jump and answer on the first ring. Yet, we often find ourselves distracted during the phone conversation when we do so, because we haven’t stopped or turned away from what we had been doing when the phone rang, and we aren’t really fully present to the person on the other end of the line. We are caught in a kind of in-between place, and whenever we have called someone who is in a similar situation, we can find ourselves irritated with the half-hearted attention we are getting from the person we called.

So, next time the phone rings, stop what you are doing, and take a breath or two or three, depending on how slowly you breathe. Just stop, breathe in, breathe out, mindfully pick up the phone and answer. You will be offering your full presence to whomever has called. You will have stopped being a slave to the phone.

The practice is similar whenever we hear our phone signal that we’ve received a text message, or when our computer ‘pings’ the arrival of an e-mail. Stop what you’re doing, take three breaths and then read the message or e-mail. Again, you will be more fully present, undistracted, and free.

If you wish, before answering any of these “invitations” to communication, you can recite the following gatha, a variation on the “Listening to the Mindfulness Bell Gatha:”

Listen, listen.

This sound brings me back to my true home.

In the here; in the now.

This is the ultimate in which I dwell.

AND, when it comes time to make a phone call, send a message or e-mail, take a few breaths, and recite to yourself the following gatha before making the call or hitting “Send:”

Words can travel across thousands of miles.

May my words create mutual understanding and love.

May they be as beautiful as gems,

As lovely as flowers.

And please, share how – if at all – your communication is effected by this simple practice this month.

metta,
poep sa

January Round-Up

2011-01-29T20:52:00.000-08:00

There's just two more days of this month and the "sitting challenge," before we move on to a whole new Daily Practice. I'd love to hear from those of you who had committed to sitting every day as to how it went. What kind of resistances did you find? Were you able to begin again if you missed a day or two or three? What keeps you from sitting when it's something you want to do?

I'll be posting a new practice for February tomorrow morning, but I do hope that you will continue to sit every day. And remember, consistency is perhaps more important than the quantity of time you put in. While it seems that for most of us, a good solid 15 - 20 minutes is a good minimum for touching the stillness that is possible to touch in sitting practice, it is still better to sit every day for five minutes than for one or two or three times a week for an hour.

Thank you for practicing!

frank jude

Book Club: Brahma Viharas, Emptiness and Ethics: Conclusion by Christopher Key Chapple

2011-01-25T21:35:00.000-08:00

Practice

In a way, this penultimate section, being the most personal, is one I feel less inclined to comment upon. After all, each person’s yoga is ultimately uniquely their own. And after all is said, I am moved by the examples Chapple is willing to share in this section.

Interestingly, the first example he gives as an example of the Brahma Viharas, from the more Classical Yoga approach of categorizing questioners leads to a similar response I would tend toward having from the broader understanding of compassion, empathetic joy, friendliness and equanimity. When I find myself confronted with an aggressive questioner (thankfully, relatively infrequently), I remind myself that perhaps the person is venting anger or criticism because they are suffering, perhaps the teaching is hitting them in a tender spot and they are resistant; I try to connect with my wish that the person be happy; I am happy if they are comfortable with their own understanding and/or practice; and finally, I remind myself that whether they are happy or suffering, that ultimately they alone are the heirs of their karma and only they can make themselves happy or unhappy.

Chapple’s example of “emptiness” practice takes it from the rarified heights of philosophy into a very down-to-earth understanding. I appreciate this, but also think it may overly simplify the radical liberating power of this teaching. Seeing emptiness of oneself is an important step; we must then go on to see all beings as empty of self, for it is this that opens the heart to unconditional compassion.

And finally, the ethical teachings are truly best understood as lived experience. This is why I appreciate Thich Nhat Hanh referring to the Five Precepts as “Mindfulness Trainings.” Through keeping them in mind throughout the daily activities we join in, we grow in mindfulness, understanding and compassion. As mindfulness, understanding and compassion grows, our lives become more exemplary of the trainings.

Suffering And The End Of Suffering

2011-01-24T21:37:00.000-08:00

The title of today's post is a quote attributed to the Buddha, said to have often repeated, "I teach only one thing: suffering and the end of suffering." Some smarty-pants once said, "Isn't that two things?" But obviously, if you understand -- truly understand -- suffering, you understand its causes and thus its ending.

Susan wrote asking: "Help me here with this idea of the end of suffering being the goal. I have turned that around over and over and can't seem to grasp what that would mean. The human condition is so completely tied up with suffering and the idea of suffering. Bearing suffering well is a virtue in our culture. Heroic...." I can't imagine a being free from suffering. Can you? So it struck me this morning on the cushion reciting "May I be happy. May I be peaceful. May I be safe. May I be free from suffering." What am I saying? I look around and I think that really I don't suffer from much. Relatively, my sufferings are really nothing. But the conditions still exist for great suffering. I am not grieving the loss of loved one. I have my health. I have a home. I have a job. But any of these things could change instantly and I would suffer. But I suppose that sort of suffering is temporary. It is certainly to be expected and to bear it well is the most that I can hope for. So is the freedom from suffering on some other level? Is it an attainable goal? Is it the "holy grail"?

So again - back to 'What would freedom of suffering be like'?"

GOOD QUESTION!

Now, part of my response hinges on what exactly do you/we/the tradition mean by "suffering?" The word generally translated as "suffering," duhkha, literally means "wrong" or "bad hole." It would be used to describe a wheel misaligned on its axle. Others have tried to avoid the histrionic and dramatic sounding "suffering" by translating duhkha as "discontent," "dis-ease," "dis-satisfaction," "painful" and "stress." The Yoga Tradition -- including Buddhism -- asserts that life, the human condition is duhkha. And when we turn away from the 'over-the-top' sounding "suffering," and think of it as stressful, painful or unsatisfying, who can argue?

Now, in the earliest Buddhist understanding, a yogi can transcend and end duhkha by completely eradicating the causes of duhkha: craving, aversion and ignorance. An arhat is a being who has 'gone all the way' and 'done what must be done' to purify his or her mind of these 'taints' and thus is free from duhkha. Traditionally, as birth itself is understood as duhkha, this was also taken to mean that the arhat would never be reborn into samsara again.

Others, who reject the teaching of rebirth, offer that duhkha is only present when there is grasping in the mind. For instance, the traditional understanding seems to say that birth, aging and death are inherently duhkha. Thus, the practitioner wants to end having to be reborn again and again. A more modernist understanding is that birth, aging and death are only duhkha when the mind is grasping and resisting. If the mind is not grasping, then these phenomena are not duhkha.

Finally, there is a radical, naturalist understanding that says duhkha is inherent in life. All life is afflicted. Thus duhkha can never end or be escaped from. However, how we relate to it will determine whether we live a free, unbound life or if we 'suffer' through life's unavoidable challenges.

This is a short, perhaps simplistic response. If you are interested in a more developed review of the concept of duhkha and some various interpretations, please check out my essay on duhkha and the Four Noble Truths at my other blog: Zen Naturalism.

Thank you!

frank jude

Brahma-Vihara, Emptiness and Ethics by Christopher Key Chapple (Part Three)

2011-01-18T20:42:00.000-08:00

In this third section of his essay, Chapple examines the similarities between the Buddhist and Classical Yoga traditions – and points out how these ethical principles are shared with the Jain tradition as well. He argues that the intent of ethical practice is constant across these three yogic cultures: release from suffering. I think this is an important, and often over-looked point. The ethical teachings and practice across the board of all yogic traditions is not about simply being a “good” person; it’s not about following some external code. Rather, all yogic ethical teaching has moksha, freedom as its purpose. In this sense, yogic ethics are ‘transcendental’ and purpose driven; in a sense ‘teleological’ or ‘soteriological.’

An interesting point of distinction between Buddhist Yoga and Classical Yoga and Jainism is the emphasis in Buddhism on “non-intoxication” rather than “nonpossession” or, as I prefer, “non-grasping.” Of course one can “stretch” the implications of “non-intoxication” to include “non-grasping:” in intoxication, we grasp after another way of perceiving, experiencing and being. However, the purpose of including “non-intoxication” as an ethical principle both high-lights the emphasis on maintaining clarity of mind that is paramount in the Buddhist tradition, as well as the understanding that the other ethical principles are more likely to be broken while in an intoxicated state, so by maintaining sobriety, we are more likely to successfully practice non-harm, non-stealing, sexual responsibility and truthfulness. A final point that is necessary to understand is that we should not fall into the trap of thinking of intoxication as being only about drugs. We can easily – all too easily! – intoxicate ourselves with television, gossip, Facebook, novels, exercise, yoga-practice, and even meditation! As Thich Nhat Hanh says, if we meditate to avoid our suffering, then we are using it like a drug.

I am less interested in Chapple’s attempt to parallel the six paramitas with the niyama. Overall, it seems like a bit of a forced stretch, though I can understand how some might find it interesting.

One of our correspondents commented on her wish for more practical applications of the concepts Chapple writes about in this chapter. The next section of Chapple’s essay is entitled “Practice,” and I will save comment about it till tomorrow.

Book Club: Emptiness: Shunya and Shunyata by Christopher Key Chapple

2011-01-14T11:57:00.000-08:00

Forgive me for not getting this out the next day; things got a bit 'hairy' here in Tucson on January 8th.

This is a fairly short section, but we mustn’t take that as indicative of the importance of this subject! The teaching on ‘emptiness’ is arguably the most important among the teachings of the Buddha. Chapple draws the similarities with Patanjali well, though other scholars argue that Patanjali’s use of “empty” is not the same as the Buddha’s meaning.

That aside, I think it important to keep in mind that the word most often used by the Buddha in the Pali Canon is “empty,” and that in time we find the use of the word “emptiness” growing in importance. However, when a word goes from adjective to noun, we can all too easily fall into the error of reification, and indeed this has happened repeatedly in the history of Buddhism.

So, here I’ll take a page from Thich Nhat Hanh. In his commentary on the Heart Sutra, which Chapple quotes in this section, Thay says we should not take the bodhisattva Avolokiteshvara at his word without asking first, “Empty of what?” All phenomena are empty of self-nature is the response. That is, no phenomena exists from it’s own side, independent, autonomous, persistent, unchanging. There is no ‘essence’ behind, above or below phenomena. However, many Mahayana and Vajrayana Buddhists have reified this description of phenomena as empty into the ‘emptiness’ of phenomena being their essence. So it is important to remember that not only form is empty, but also emptiness is empty!

As Chapple points out toward the end of this section, ultimately there is a major distinction between Patanjali and the Buddha, despite all their similarities. Chapple says Patanjali suggests that the realization of the empty nature of phenomena delivers one to a higher state of awareness, which the Buddha denies. I think this is both unclear and perhaps not fully accurate. The Buddha of the Pali Canon, at least seems to posit some kind of awareness that is present in the state of nibbana, but the Buddha strongly asserts that even nibbana is empty of ‘self.’ That is, while all phenomena are seen as impermanent, unsatisfactory and not-self, nibanna is permanent and ultimate satisfaction, but remains ‘not-self.’ The state of liberation for Patanjali, kaivalya is said to be that which occurs when Purusha realizes its ‘self-nature.’

And though this is a small quibble, I do want to make clear that the Buddha did not proclaim that suffering results from desire. The word he used, tanha, meaning ‘thirst’ is more accurately understood to refer to the more urgent grasping and clinging to objects of desire than desire itself. In fact, the Buddha said desire for liberation was necessary for anyone to even consider yoga practice!

Book Club: Brahma Viharas, Emptiness and Ethics by Christopher Key Chapple

2011-01-07T18:05:00.000-08:00

“Brahma-Vihara, Emptiness, and Ethics”

by Christopher Key Chapple

Well, the holidays have passed, and I hope those of you who have been reading Michael Stone’s Freeing the Body, Freeing The Mind with me as part of this ‘virtual book club’ are still sticking with me in this new year!

Christopher Key Chapple is a professor of Indic and Comparative Theology and one who has done much wonderful work on Patanjali and other Yogic texts, so again I was looking forward to reading his contribution, especially as just last year I had written over 7,000 words on the Brahma-Viharas for Yoga Journal. As Chapple begins his chapter, he points out that along with the Viharas, emptiness and ethics are “three points of contact between Buddhism and classical Yoga.”

However, I was much surprised – and a bit dismayed – to find that Chapple takes the Classical Yoga approach to the Brahma-Viharas and implies that this is the same understanding in the Buddhist Yoga tradition. The translation from Yoga-Sutra I.33 he uses reads:

Be friendly with the happy, compassionate toward those who suffer. Celebrate the success of the virtuous, be even-minded toward those who lack virtue.

While I was happy to see how he translates upeksha as “even-minded” instead of the (to my mind) awful “disinterest” and “disregard” favored by many other yogis from the (Hindu) Classical Yoga tradition such as B.K.S. Iyengar and Swami Satchidananda, I felt dismay that he takes that tradition’s contextual conditions as crucial and central to the practice of the Four Brahma-Viharas!

In fact, in the Buddhist Yoga tradition, these four qualities are also often referred to as the Four Immeasurables, and are to be practiced toward all beings, as we see in the translations of people like Georg Feurstein and Chip Hartranft who translate this same sutra thus:

The projection of friendliness, compassion, gladness and equanimity towards all objects -- <be they> joyful, sorrowful, meritorious or demeritorious -- <bring about> the pacification of consciousness. – Feuerstein

Consciousness settles as one radiates friendliness, compassion, delight, and equanimity toward all things, whether pleasant, or painful, good or bad. – Hartranft

I hasten to say that I am not saying the classical tradition is ‘wrong.’ For the Classical Yoga emphasis on one’s own ‘inner peace,’ cultivating these states of mind is a way of restraining or reversing what Patanjali calls vikshepa, the tendency of the mind to be distracted and outwardly directed. Patanjali tells us that when we react haphazardly or callously to what people do around us, inner disturbance is the result. These four attitudes combat that disturbance and bring us closer to a state of balanced equilibrium.

When we see happy people, cultivating a friendly attitude toward them will help forestall feelings of jealousy and envy. When we encounter those who are suffering, we should compassionately do what we can to help—for our own sake as much as for the person who is suffering. "Our goal is to keep the serenity of our minds. Whether our mercy will help that person or not, by our own feeling of mercy, at least we are helped," Satchidananda says.

Appreciating and delighting in the qualities of virtuous people will inspire us to cultivate such virtues ourselves. And finally, when we are faced with those we deem nonvirtuous, the classical yoga tradition teaches that we should strive to have an indifferent attitude toward them. Often, we indulge in judging and criticizing those who we feel are misguided. This hardly helps us maintain a serene state of mind! Commentators in the classical yoga tradition point out that the yogi should not divert attention from his or her own practice in order to try to reform those who are unlikely to heed advice. As Satchidananda points out, "If you try to advise them, you will lose your peace."

However, the broader view is the one emphasized in the Buddhist tradition, where the brahmaviharas, as I mentioned above, are also known as "the Four Limitless Ones" and "the Four Immeasurables," reflecting Buddhist yoga's emphasis on social relationships and the interdependent nature of all beings. Both of these perspectives are valuable; reflecting on the intention and purpose behind each gives greater depth to our own practice. I only wish that in the desire to emphasize the similarities between the two Yoga traditions of Classical Yoga and Buddhist Yoga, we don’t blur, bury or soft-pedal the real differences.

Other than this, I do find Chapple’s emphasis on the significance that the terms for each of these qualities have a feminine ending very interesting! Patanjali is often criticized (most often correctly, in my view) as being male-centric, so it is helpful to see a way in which the importance of the feminine principle can be found in the practices Patanjali offers.

Tomorrow I will post on the section on “emptiness,” but for now, I’d love to hear from those of you who have been reading along any thoughts you have about the Four Brahma-Viharas. For those of you who are interested in reading my articles on them from Yoga Journal, here are the links:

Maitri/Karuna: “Love In Full Bloom”

Mudita: “I’m So Happy For You”

Upeksha: “Calm Within”

JANUARY DAILY PRACTICE: Some words of encouragement

2011-01-02T22:13:00.000-08:00

If you are relatively new to sitting meditation practice, it may help to consider the following: Create a comfortable, private space to sit. It could be a corner of your bedroom, a walk-in closet or wherever you can have privacy. After even only a few days, the consistency of sitting in the same place will lead to a greater ease in letting go of other concerns and settling into 'just sitting.' The same thing goes with time: it's best, if possible, to sit at the same time(s) each day.

Sit so that your knees are lower than the top of your pelvis (the iliac crest). If you are sitting on a cushion, sit toward the front of it so that your pelvis tilts slightly so that your lumbar spine maintains its natural curve. If you are sitting on the floor, and your knees do not come to the ground, bring the ground up to your knees by supporting your outer thighs with rolled blankets or yoga blocks. You want to feel completely supported. As Patanjali describes asana, your posture should be stable and easeful.

Let your jaw be relaxed; perhaps your lips are even slightly parted. Eyes can be closed or partially open, but in either event, have your eyes rolled downward, as this helps stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system responsible for the relaxation response.

Rest your hands on your thighs, palms up or down, whichever you prefer OR use a traditional meditation mudra.

Decide before you sit how long you plan to sit and then sit there that long! Don't cut it short 'because it's not working' or because you're bored or think of something better to do! If at the end of the time, you'd like to sit longer, that's fine.

Sitting quietly, feel what is sitting. Feel the body 'in the body.'
Observe the ever-changing sensations and see if you can stay at the level of sensation and not rush to judge or mentally describe them.

Go into the sensation and see if you can realize the subtle presence of that which senses. Feel the sensation within the sensation.
Rest in just sitting.

Can you locate that which senses? Is there a defined boundary of that which is aware?

Let this be simple. Don't try to be 'spiritual.' Just sit free of any inner seeking for attainment. Let go of strategizing and simply be present to your life breath by breath. Practice radical acceptance.

Remember, there's room for all of it on your cushion (or chair).

metta
frank jude

JANURAY DAILY PRACTICE: Just Sit

2011-01-01T11:45:00.000-08:00

For the beginning of a new year (and new decade at that) I think it could benefit all of us to get back to basics. A daily practice of sitting meditation has been shown to offer numerable benefits – most recently, a study shows that meditators age slower than the general public, most likely because of higher levels of telomerase, an enzyme that has to do with longevity.

And yet, though we know sitting is “good” for us, we find resistance to actually doing it! But the other day I read the following from Cheri Huber to my Mindfulness Yoga class:

Sitting in meditation opens our hearts. What wants to sit? Who we really are. What wants to be still? Stillness. The quiet, the peace, the well-being wants to be with itself, wants to experience itself. So when we sit, even if it’s a fidgeting, wiggling, hate-every-moment-of-it sit, what is sitting is that deepest part of us.

Continuing to sit reinforces that part of us who wants to sit. It also reveals the nature of the ego onslaught. Seeing that, our hearts open a little bit, and as our hearts open, there is more kindness. There is more ability to be present, to be open to and aware of something other than the conditioned structure that is maintaining itself against the inherent goodness of life.

It can certainly seem as if the person who wants to sit disappears as soon as we hit the cushion. We are bombarded with everything in the world, all our conditioned patterns, all our resistance, all our suffering. But that is all right, because there is room on that cushion for all that to be there, along with who we really are.

I love this passage because it reminds me of what Dogen Zengi says: that our sitting is already the expression of our inherent buddha-nature. We do not sit to become buddha, but express our awakening nature by and through sitting – even if a storm of emotion and thought is also happening!

So, if you have been thinking of starting a sitting practice; or if you have one that feels ‘stalled’; or if you sit regularly, let January be the month you really commit to ‘just sit.’ Don’t even think of it as something special: “I’m meditating now.” You don’t have to sit on the floor. Sit on a chair if your uncomfortable sitting on the floor. Don’t make a big deal of it. Just sit.

Take the next 30 days as a “Sitting Challenge.” You can commit to whatever you wish, but stick to it. Your commitment might be to sit one hour a day, either in one 60-minute block or two 30-minute sits or even three 20-minute sits. You can commit to sitting for ten minutes or even five minutes. At the very least, you can commit, as Jack Kornfield suggests, to ‘get your ass on the cushion.’ You will most likely find that getting your ass on the cushion is the hardest part, but once you do get onto the cushion (or chair) you’ll find you can indeed sit still for at least five minutes!

Please share your experiences, insights and questions.

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meaness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

-- Rumi

Water Works.....

2010-12-12T20:19:00.000-08:00

Today in my neighborhood, there was a tour of homes that have been involved in making 'rain jars.' I LOVE that I live in a community of folk who are this creative and devoted. This is as 'grassroots' as you can get!

I hope you enjoy -- and perhaps are inspired by -- this website.

metta
poep sa frank jude

BOOK CLUB: "Mind and Body at Ease" by Sarah Powers

2010-12-08T21:27:00.000-08:00

I’ve long been a fan of Sarah Powers’ work, so I was looking forward to reading her contribution to Michael Stone’s anthology, Freeing the Body, Freeing the Mind. Sarah’s essay is Chapter 7 of this book, and she begins right out of the gate, so to speak, asserting, “Hatha Yoga is an introspective path.” Of course she’ll have no argument from me on this point, but I wonder still how many practitioners understand it as such?

The next part of her opening sentence strikes me a bit strangely though, when she seems to place the “introspective path of self-transformation” that is Hatha-Yoga purely in terms of using “the body as a vehicle for harmonizing and strengthening one’s energy” that allows one to then – with this ‘balanced energy’ – be in a place of better understanding for freeing our minds with the “meditative awareness practice” that is mindfulness. She goes on to speak of “braiding” Hatha Yoga and mindfulness together as our practice life.

I say this strikes me strangely because I think that in our practice life, these are not at all two ‘things’ we braid together as much as one fully integrated, comprehensive practice. In cultivating a mindfulness of body, for instance, while practicing the postures and movements of Hatha Yoga, the practice jointly balances energy and cultivates understanding and freedom of mind. In my own practice, I cannot sense them as two when we approach Hatha Yoga as an introspective path.

I don’t wish to belabor the point here, but I do want to clarify that what may seem like two practices that complement each other can indeed be approached as one single, comprehensive practice. And honestly, this is how it feels when I’ve taken class with Sarah: seamless!

Her distinction between “active attention” and “receptive attention” is an interesting one. Of course, various mindfulness meditations emphasize these different forms of attention regardless of the posture one is in. For instance, the body scan most often used as either First or Second Foundation practice requires much active attention as one directs one’s attention throughout the body in a systematic way. While doing so, one is encouraged to maintain an ‘equanimous mind’ which is a non-reactive receptive state.

That she sees these two forms of attention as related to yang and yin approaches to yogasana is telling, and again makes sense. Whenever I am offering equanimity practice, I emphasize yin-yoga practice, though of course, again, this kind of receptive, non-manipulating kind of attention is also needed in more vigorous vinyasa as well – as Sarah also mentions. It is always, ultimately, a matter of emphasis. Almost always, distinctions made for didactic purposes over-emphasize the differences and make it sound like they are truly separate, while in practice, we find a more fluid relationship to these approaches.

One thing I really appreciated about Sarah’s contribution is her examples from her own life. It is important for practitioners to understand that this ‘practice’ is, as she writes, a ‘life-practice,’ so her use of her hot flashes as an example of working with mindfulness is very pertinent. One caveat: ‘awareness of sensations’ is more accurately associated with the Second Foundation of Mindfulness, and I suspect her referring to is as the First Foundation on page 92 is a typo or simply a slip of the pen, so to speak, which I think becomes obvious when she refers to the First Foundation of Mindfulness as “mindfulness of the body” on the very next page.

I completely feel at resonance with Sarah, especially when she writes about what I call ‘building a bigger container.’ When we rest in a more receptive mode of attention in the face of discomfort, we are doing so not to become more stoic, but to cultivate the ability and capacity to meet the unavoidable afflictions, disappointments and difficulties of everyday life “without adding suffering to our suffering,” as she puts it. This is a real freedom that is truly available to any of us, if we simply give ourselves the time and permission to stay in that receptive state.

I also appreciate her drawing attention to ‘self-talk’ as part of our mindfulness practice. So much of this self-talk can be so unkind and self-lacerating. Most people would be appalled at the idea of saying such things to others, but their minds lash out at them with such vitriol. And then there is all the under-mining self-talk that she speaks about.

In the chain of causation, there is what she refers to as the first and second ‘beats’ of stimulus and assessment, and the third and fourth beats as reaction and action. Mindfulness is a form of nirodha, or containment. We feel a reaction of grasping or aversion to a sensation that is assessed as pleasant or unpleasant and we consciously inhibit any action based upon the conditioning so that we can choose a more creative way to respond.

Sarah strongly makes the point that mindfulness allows us to see the choices our life experience make available to us. Without mindfulness, we live in an almost automatic mode of conditioned reactivity and end up feeling ‘victimized’ by ‘fate.’

Along with Chip Hartranft’s opening chapter, “Awakening to Prana” and chapter five, “Joining With Naturalness” by Ari Goldfield and Rose Taylor, I find Sarah’s contribution to be my favorites so far. All of them offer solid, sound understandings and approaches that I hope are making the relationship between Yoga and Buddhism more clear among readers. What do you think?

December Daily Practice (Health Practice): Hydration

2010-11-30T23:10:00.000-08:00

Really, it’s not only because I live in a desert that I’ve thought to share this practice! In winter, we tend to spend more time indoors, with windows closed and the heat on (unless we live in the tropics or in the southern hemisphere, where it’s getting on summer now but then you need to hydrate there just as well). If you are finding yourself in such a situation, you know that your sinuses can dry out, and this in turn can lead to sinus infections. Dehydration can also lead to headaches, fatigue, constipation and many other imbalances.

As well, December can be a pretty stressful time, with the holidays and family gatherings, so I thought I’d offer a simple practice, that won’t take much time, but may help you weather the season in better health and spirits.

The Practice: After waking in the morning, before your morning shower, or brushing your teeth, or coffee, or asana or mediation practice -- before just about anything else other than peeing – drink a glass of water (about 6 – 10 ounces). THEN, after showering, or whatever else your morning ‘get-me-up’ routine is, drink another glass of water.

That’s it. Simple.

If you’d like, you can write this gatha in your own handwriting and past it above your sink, or memorize it so that you can say it to yourself as you take that first glass of water:

Water flows from high in the mountains.

Water runs deep in the Earth.

Amazingly, water comes to us,

And sustains all life.

Some folk believe the big wars to come are not going to be over oil as much as water. Already thousands of people throughout the world lack access to fresh water. And yet, our bodies are about two-thirds water. This water is not separate from the water that falls as rain and snow, that runs in our rivers and streams. As our waterways become more and more polluted and overdrawn, what will this mean for our bodies? Are not the waterways of the Earth our external arteries?

To be mindful of our water, our need for water, and to celebrate the gift of water is to cultivate awareness and help preserve and conserve this precious source of life for all beings.

Seriously? Some further comments in response to Michael Stone

2010-11-26T23:15:00.000-08:00

Michael Stone, yogi, psycho-therapist, activist, writer, and friend, wrote a comment in response to my last post (Why take life so seriously? It’s impermanent.) on FaceBook, prompting me to take this opportunity to delve again into what I was attempting to get at in that post.

Michael wrote: Isn't "peace the path" because our actions matter, not in a future life awaiting us, but in the real social, political, emotional, familial life of ours now? frank the title of your blog makes me uneasy as it comes close to the passivity that a (mis)understanding of non-attachment connotes. yes, the asset of joy means everything. and so does action! mindfulness happens in action, whether joyful or serious or upset and neutral. if we focus too much on not taking life so seriously, we can become indifferent, or worse, we tend not to study our actions and their consequences.

Michael specifically says that it is the title of my blog that made him uneasy. I don’t know (and I should have asked) if he had read the post before commenting. And if he did read the post, I should have asked if the rest of the post left him uneasy as well, or if it indeed were just the title.

After all, the title is simply from a bumper-sticker I found humorous, and yes, a bit provocative. And that was exactly why I chose to use this to title this particular post. As I responded to Michael, it was meant to be both humorous and provocative. I think perhaps the humor may have been lost on Micheal, and it simply 'provoked' his response.

The response I posted to Michael’s comment on Facebook was the following: Michael, I agree that "if we focus too much on not taking life so seriously, we can become indifferent" but my experience with students (and most people I know) is that we don't focus on taking life less seriously at all. The point of this post is that through self-absorbtion, most of us take things too seriously (personally) etc. Thay himself offers the practice of stopping and considering what you (and the person or persons you are caught in drama with) will look like in 100 years.

Our actions DO matter. AND I do believe we'd be better off not taking ourselves so seriously at the same time. Or as Pema Chodron puts it, "Enlighten up!" I've often experienced that when a group of practitioners can feel easeful enough to laugh at themselves and their 'craziness,' a deeper sense of authenticity and intimacy is the result.

I hope by this you’ll see that I am not saying that life is meaningless or that we should adopt a frivolous attitude to it. Everyday, as part of my prostration practice, I chant the following gatha:

Great is the matter of birth and death!

Impermanence surrounds us!

Be awake each moment!

Do not waste your life!

This is a pretty 'serious' verse. But to approach our actions and their consequences seriously is still not necessarily the same as taking ourselves seriously, and it was this that I was particularly addressing in my post. This is why I specifically talked about “drama queens” (and we all harbor an inner drama queen to some extent or another).

Sally’s comment directly addressed this when she wrote: Thank you!... this resonates so much with my current family drama that pulls me into thinking and getting so serious. I'd much rather be light, forgiving, loving, and letting go. I will always remember how easily you said there is nothing to forgive when I was so sorry to have forgotton to show up on a class that I was suppose to sub. That response is still with me as a reminder to extend it foward. so much gratitude.

I wrote that post after I had just returned from a Yoga Teacher Training in Costa Rica, where many of the students were oppressed by the suffering of taking themselves and their ‘little dramas’ so terribly seriously. It was this tendency we all share that I was addressing in my post. This is not to minimize the difficulty of life, of family and relationships in general. But again, as Thay reminds us, impermanence should wake us from this daze of taking every 'insult' to our ego so seriously. Many times when I have found myself getting upset and building a Gone With The Wind narrative around a perceived slight, I have used Thay's practice of imagining myself and my loved on in 100 years and the drama completely deflates, as does my anger and self-defensiveness!

Michael responded to my comment saying: thanks frank. sometimes i get charged with being serious (for those who don't know me) and i only mention this because social change that arises from compassion still requires confrontation. we need to confront, with metta, what's in us, but also what is around us. that's serious business!

And I totally agree with Michael that social change is indeed ‘serious business.’ And that compassion sometimes requires we confront injustice. But I still hold that we should work for social change in the same spirit as we work for personal change (or transformation) and that is by not taking ourselves so seriously! I believe this is part of the message we should take from the Diamond Sutra where the Buddha says that the bodhisattva works for the liberation of countless beings, and when countless beings have been liberated does not for one instant believe that any beings have been liberated. Why? Because if we think "I" have saved "others" we are falling into self-cherishment.

One of the Buddha’s core teachings is the teaching of anatta or not-self. That we take every thought that goes through our head ‘personally’ is part of the problem of duhkha. As Joseph Goldstein says, "thoughts, feelings and emotions are all conditioned by impersonal forces." As hard as it may be to accept, there is nothing ‘personal’ about any of it! That we take things ‘personally’ is what I mean by taking things too seriously. Perhaps I should have been clearer, and so I thank Michael for his comments, prodding me to re-state my intention here.

As Karen Maezen Miller writes in Momma Zen, “Yes, we all have a load on our hands, but the heavy is in our heads. Set the heavy down and sweep aside the useless mental clutter.” As her teacher, Maezumi Roshi told her, “You make everything work.” Don’t we all do so when we take ourselves overly seriously? Life is more fun that we sometimes make it. When a child asked Thich Nhat Hanh what he did for fun, Thay responded with a smile, “Everything I do is for fun.” As I titled an earlier essay, I think of it (life, practice, commitment) as all of it being “Important Fun.”

In metta

poep sa frank jude

Why take life so seriously? It's impermanent!

2010-11-24T08:01:00.000-08:00

I was driving today, listening to the first cd from a woman I believe to be one of America’s great song-writers and a scarily moving performer – who yes, also happens to be a friend of mine. You’ve most likely never heard of her, though her 80s band, Slow Children, did have some success on college radio and in the dance club scene. Pal Shazar’s first cd, released in 1991, is called Cowbeat Of My Heart, and several of the songs do indeed have a bit of a country twang, but her lyrics are always deeply thoughtful and often of a narrative bent.

Well, today, as I was driving, her song “Mon Cher Violette” was playing, seemingly echoing something I said to the Moksha Yoga teachers in Costa Rica last week; a statement I had read on a bumper-sticker back in Tucson, that perhaps we shouldn’t always take life so seriously, being that it is impermanent! Pal sings:

You’re so dramatic Violette,

You take life so serious

When life’s not serious at all

You’re like a missionary with that weight you haul

It’s a tragedy

So apologetic Violette

I find that curious

When your slate is super clean

Just like a visionary shocked by what she’s seen

It’s a comedy

In the Zen tradition, we are taught that all beings are without blame; that they (we) are perfect, whole, lacking nothing just as we are. So many difficulties and sufferings arise because we fail to see that. Practice isn’t about making it so, but more about leading us to realize that it is so!

All of us know drama queens (and perhaps have one living within us) who seem not to be happy unless they are embroiled in some complex, confused drama, all facets of which seem to be nothing short than a matter of life and death! I sometimes take a mildly sardonic pleasure in pointing out to such drama fiends that all stories end in death!

In another of her songs from this cd, “Go Jackie,” Pal exhorts a friend to “let it go,” and stop attempting to hold on to what he no longer has:

Oh let it go Jackie, nobody’s born to be

A prisoner of his fate

How long you gonna wait?

Many students misunderstand the teachings of karma in a fatalistic kind of way, yet it was the Buddha’s understanding of karma that points to the only possibility we have for freedom! Whatever hand we may have been dealt, how we choose to play it is what determines the outcome; it is not pre-determined how the game will go. And as Thich Nhat Hanh often emphasizes, if you wait for external conditions to be a certain way before you have peace and joy, then you are waiting for a future that can never come. There is no path to peace; peace is the path! If you do not claim and step into your freedom now, when else do you think you can?

So perhaps next time you’re feeling that the situation you find yourself in is so terribly, pressingly important, take a breath and remind yourself of what you’ll be looking like in 100 years. How will what you are fretting over be seen from that perspective?

And may you enjoy now!

Book Club: Zen Body by Eido Shimano Roshi

2010-11-22T21:06:00.000-08:00

Chapter Six, the entry from Eido Shimano Roshi, is rather short and, in my opinion, rather slight, so my comments will also be short – and most likely slight as well.

In his opening sentence, it’s rather clear that by joining “Yoga” and “sports” as things the Buddha was trained in, along with the presumption that having studied yoga and sport, the Buddha was “very fit,” that Eido is thinking of Yoga as physical training. If I could, I’d tell Eido that everytime he trains a student in zazen, he is teaching Yoga!

Where I have complete agreement with Eido Roshi, is in his assertion that “the body is indispensable as the mind for finding ultimate liberation.” In fact, I often quote Georg Feuerstein, who said that enlightenment is a full-body experience.

As a long-time student of Zen, I appreciate Eido Roshi’s discussion of soji (cleaning). Since the baby’s arrival, I’ve found that I’ve more opportunity to practice while cleaning (laundry, dishes, diapers etc) and it has been truly a very nourishing practice. When fully immersed in this practice of cleaning, mind becomes still, at one with action. Action seems still, even in movement, as mind has ceased to run commentary.

As I teach in Body of Peace, when body, breath and mind are fully and completely aligned and relaxed into action, the true body is seen to be the 10,000 things. As Eido, quoting Dogen puts it:

"The entire world in the ten directions is nothing but the true human body."

For those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving Day, I hope yours is truly a time of reflection on the myriad gifts we receive daily. As the November Daily Practice of Naikan allows us to see, we benefit from countless, innumerable beings constantly. And to all of you, I wish to take this opportunity to thank you for your practice, for your desire and commitment to awaken for the sake of a more loving and joy-filled world.

Joining With Naturalness Part Three

2010-11-13T10:02:00.000-08:00

Picking up with the section entitled “Buddhist Yoga Exercise,” reminding ourselves, as the authors do in their first paragraph, that there are many varied “Buddhist Yogas” and thus many different ‘exercises,’ let’s explore what Goldfield and Taylor have to say regarding the practices taught by Khenpo Tsultrim Gyamtso.

They make the important point, I believe common to all Buddhist Yogas, that movement practices are essential for developing the ‘practice mind’ in and throughout our daily activities. While walking meditation is a common practice (especially in the Theravada tradition) for instance, in Zen ‘work practice’ is strongly emphasized. In fact, it was during my Zen training that I learned to hang sheet-rock, as well as use several different power tools!

Goldfield and Taylor remind us of the three qualities of mind guiding the intention behind practice and specify that while exercise has many physical benefits for the body, our mental attitude must be one of ‘renunciation,’ in that we renounce clinging to body as ‘truly existent.’ I might prefer to phrase it as “renounce clinging to body as self.” This is an important piece often ignored in contemporary yoga (asana) practice. In fact, I find that some approaches to practice actually encourage and strengthen identification with the body as self, which will ultimately prove futile, as the body ages and becomes less able to perform the more challenging asanas. This is not, however, merely a contemporary issue, as texts as old as the hatha-yoga tradition (roughly 1,000 years old) already warn that the practice of asana, outside the context of raja-yoga (here meaning meditation) become ‘obstacles to liberation!’

Remembering the second quality, I encourage students to re-affirm their bodhicitta by reminding themselves that they practice for the benefit of all beings. And finally, that our practice is to cultivate the realization of the true nature of ‘things as it is,’ as Suzuki Roshi would often say.

In the following section, “The Key Points of Yogic Exercise,” the authors say that the most profound way to apply the mind during activity is to focus on the true empty nature of phenomena. Their description of maintaining the ‘nondual awareness, the union of luminosity-emptiness’ recalls the practice I teach of “Big Sky Mind.”

They suggest focusing attention at the point four fingers width below the navel, which in Zen is the hara. Sometimes I too ask my students to focus here, especially during vinyasa practice, as in going from plank to upward-facing dog to downward-facing dog moving from this point. They all express a distinct difference in the energy and fluidity of movement.

Most of the rest of this section speaks of the body as impermanent, in the fact of its constant changing nature. In “Body of Peace,” I emphasize that in fact, nowhere in the universe is there absolute stillness. There is constant vibration, what Tantra calls spandha. What we call ‘stillness’ in meditation is actually a kind of calm-activity, vibrant, yet easeful, vigorous yet at rest.

I especially like the following phrase: “Experience is much softer than when we are clinging to ourselves, objects, and ideas with heavy conceptuality.” This is the “body of peace,” which is boundless and all-pervasive, not limited to the outline of the ‘skin-bag.’

The section entitled “How To Use Sickness To Enhance The Practice Of Buddhist Yoga” is another aspect of Buddhist Yoga that is both often mis-understood and/or ignored. The second of the Five Remembrances is “I am of the nature to have ill-health; there is no way to avoid having ill-health.” Frequently, when I offer this teaching, it brings up a lot of resistance among many students. They think it is ‘negative thinking’ and would rather ignore such realities. They may even be working under the delusion – encouraged by some ‘new age’ thought – that if they are ill they ‘brought it on themselves’ and that if their practice were ‘good’ they could avoid all illness!

What the authors here remind us of is that illness can be worked with skillfully to attain deeper realization of our true nature. And indeed, isn’t it true that when things go well for us, it is kind of easy to let practice slip away? Then the shit hits the fan and we rush back to the mat or the meditation cushion! Many people come to my “Body of Peace” retreat with the notion that a body of peace never feels pain. One of the first things I tell them is that in fact, a body of peace is beyond pleasure and pain; that in going beyond circumstances, there is a peace that can contain pain, that is undisturbed, as Patanjali puts it, “by the pairs of opposites.”

No Gaps

I have a tee-shirt from Zen Mountain Monastery that features an enso and brush calligraphy saying, “No Gaps.” That’s how we are expected to practice: with no gaps, seamlessly throughout the varied activities of daily life. My teacher, Samu Sunim would often exhort us that “there is no way of the Buddha outside everyday life.” Thinking that practice is one thing, and our life is another is one of the most pernicious beliefs a practitioner can fall victim to.

In this penultimate section, the authors are telling us that our training is to be engaged, to act without attachment, with compassion and the energy of bodhicitta. There is ultimately nothing separate from the naturalness we seek to join with. Thus, ultimately, we come to see that therefore there is nothing that truly needs to be ‘joined.’ We have never really been separate!

As they conclude, at first all this takes effort. Our conditioning keeps pulling back into delusion. But, over time we experience glimmers of emptiness and the relaxed ease of naturalness and as practice and life become not-two, life – including pain, illness, aging and death – becomes more joyous, spacious, natural.

I enjoyed this chapter quite a bit, and hope to hear from you, dear readers, what you have received from this reading.

Second Week Naikan Part Three

2010-11-10T23:12:00.000-08:00

Well, this third question can really create some turbulence, eh? Generally, I'd like to think I don't cause any troubles and difficulties for any being, but the fact of the matter is that just by living I do cause some 'upset.' After all, when I boiled my water for tea, countless organisms were killed!

Anyway, in reviewing my day, I came up with a few specifics below. I wonder if you found this question as difficult as I?

1. I must have shooed away my cats from my seat at least half a dozen times today.
2. While driving, Giovanna began crying in her car seat, and I couldn't do anything to calm her (she wanted to be picked up and held).
3. I inadvertently forwarded an email along to someone who should not have been sent this particular email.

That's it! At least -- and here's the real 'kicker" -- as far as I know! There's always the chance that I caused someone some difficulties or troubles and I don't know that I have! Perhaps someone read something I've written and was upset by it. I may never know. AND perhaps that's one of the purposes of this question?

What do you think?

Book Club: Joining With Naturalness by Goldfield and Taylor (Part Two)

2010-11-09T22:42:00.000-08:00

The ‘heart’ of this chapter is the section entitled “Foundations of Buddhist Yoga.” Goldfield and Taylor say that, at least for their school or lineage of Tibetan Buddhism, these foundations are: renunciation, bodhicitta, and the view of the true nature of reality.

I have found it quite true that the term renunciation can bring up a lot of misunderstanding, confusion and resistance among many practitioners of contemporary yoga. I usually describe it as the letting go or renouncing of our habitual, conditioned ways of finding solace, and instead taking refuge in awakening. Ultimately, I think Goldfield and Taylor are pretty much saying the same thing.

There is one aspect of their teaching that I think can be problematic, but I’d love to hear from others of you as perhaps I am just sensitive to the term, but when I hear (usually it’s from Tibetan Buddhists) talk about phenomena as not ‘truly existing,’ I think the term has too many connotations that can mislead students.

For instance, there are forms of Yoga (and at least one school of Buddhist philosophy) that does assert that all perceivable phenomena are merely illusory – that they in fact simply do not exist; that all things are mental creations. Patanjali refutes this form of idealism, as does the Buddha, from most accounts we have.

And in western philosophy, the distinction is often made between ‘being’ and ‘existence’ with ‘being’ understood as ‘ultimate, true reality, eternal and unchanging’ and existence as the impermanent, ever-changing flux of phenomena.

I attempt to side-track any confusion by speaking of things 'not existing as we think they do,' rather than ‘not truly existing.’ For instance, I might say that a rainbow is a ‘real’ rainbow. What it isn’t, however, is a solid, colored bridge from one part of the horizon to another. It appears solid and self-existent, but it arises upon myriad conditions. But it isn’t an ‘illusion’ or ‘delusion’ in the sense that there is no real phenomana.

I don’t think we have to deny that our body exists. What we have to see clearly is that the body is not-Self. It has no independent, autonomous, persistent nature. So we renounce our mis-perception and clinging.

So, we end up with the same understanding Goldfield and Taylor write about, and perhaps it doesn’t matter what terms we use. Maybe it’s just my ‘hang-up!’

The second foundation, bodhicitta, is an important concept for all Mahayana Buddhist traditions. In my book, I share this concept as one of four practices associated with the second limb of the Noble Eightfold Path of the Buddha: 'right intention' (sometimes also called ‘right thinking’). Simply put, it is the thought and intention to practice and awaken for the sake of all beings. It can be a really strong energy that can keep you practicing when personal tendencies of resistance arise. On the mat, when practicing challenging postures, I sometimes encourage students to think of others in discomfort and practice tonglen, breathing in the discomfort while contemplating all the beings in the world who are feeling similar discomfort, and breathing out relief for all beings.

Compassion is the second of the Four Immeasurables (also called the Four Brahma-Viharas) and the idea is to cultivate the intention to really do something about the suffering in the world. 'The Dedication of Merit' is another practice that all practitioners can take up, at least as a bell of mindfulness that our practice cannot be seen as self-centric. If we are happier, we want others to be happy. If we are happy, our actions do indeed create conditions for others to be happy.

The following is the version of the 'Dedication of Merit' I use to end all my classes and practice sessions:

Whatever merit we may have generated through our practice together,

We now dedicate and offer all of it

To all sentient beings throughout the world, equally.

May our thoughts, our words, and our deeds

Bring benefit to the world.

The third foundation of Buddhist Yoga Goldfield and Taylor share is the ‘view of the profound true nature of reality – nondual awareness.’ Now, as I already wrote about in my post on Victoria Austin not all forms of Buddhist Yoga adhere to a non-dual perspective, so I won’t go into that here again.

However, their teachings on the two stages: “The Selflessness of Body and Mind” and “The Emptiness of Body and Mind” are well written and clear. Of course, while we have this discussion often in sangha, many practitioners still find the Buddha’s teaching on ‘not-Self’ and ‘emptiness’ challenging. I would like to know if any of you reading along have any particular questions about this topic, rather than just ranting on and on about it here.

What I will say here is something in regard to the passage on page 75, where they write: “whatever phenomenon appears to our senses or thoughts, it does not truly exist as what it appears to be… and its true nature is beyond duality, beyond concept and expression.” Take the example of a candle flame. We see it as a single phenomenon. Yes it is changing, but behind the idea that ‘the flame is changing’ is this implicit understanding that there is a ‘thing’ that exists called ‘the flame’ and something of its nature persists while changing shape in the currents of the wind.

Yet, from one moment to the next, what actually persists? And can we not see that without the candle wax, oxygen and the wick, there would be no flame? The flame arises upon these conditions, thus it is empty of an independent, autonomous self-nature. So, is the flame of this moment the same as, different than, both the same and different, or neither the same nor different than the flame of two minutes ago? Can you see this is the point Goldfield and Taylor are making in the above passage. For the truth is we cannot really say any of these possibilities are accurate and yet there is a candle flame! Words are concepts, and the true reality of what is cannot be captured in concept.

This is not to say we should jettison all concepts and that conceptual thinking is ‘bad.’ It is to say that we would do well to remember this truth about the nature of reality and concepts, so that we can use conceptual thinking without getting ensnared and led away from reality by concepts. What I’ve just said about a candle flame is not dis-similar to what we can say about ourselves. Take a photo of you from five years ago. Are you the same as that person? Different? Both same and different? Neither the same nor different? Where would you look to find any ‘self’ that has persisted unchanged, independently of conditions?

When we see this reality – and not merely intellectually – the clinging quality of attachment dissolves.

Second Week Naikan Part Two

2010-11-09T21:49:00.000-08:00

Well, today's reflection is on "What Have I Given Today?"

I must say, that while I did not and cannot give as much as I receive (after all, there is only one of me and myriads of beings I receive from!) I was pleasantly surprised to find that I gave quite freely -- at least today!

1. I fed the chickens, the cats, and the baby today.
2. I taught a class at Tucson Yoga.
3. I tipped the barista at Epic.
4. I gave $1.00 to a homeless man on 4th Ave.
5. I did my parents' laundry.
6. I bought a pizza for two friends who came over our house for a spontaneous 'hang-out.'
7. I bought Giovanna a little swing-chair.
8. I sent a check to one of my favorite charities.

Remember, in contemplating and reviewing what we give, the motivation is irrelevant. Of course the barista is expected to be tipped in our society. That doesn't change the fact that I gave it to her, and that's all that's necessary to qualify as "something I gave today."

How'd you all do?

metta
poep sa frank jude

Second Week Naikan

2010-11-08T21:23:00.000-08:00

Dear Ones,

I thought I'd post a bit about my own experience of working with this practice, in the hopes that some of you may wish to share your experience.

Tonight I wish to share about just some of the things I have received today. I suspect that while there are many particular things unique to each of us, we may also find that -- due to our shared humanity -- we will find that we all receive many of the same things or at least the same kinds of things throughout the day. Also, in sharing about what we have received, we may remind others that they too received these benefits, but perhaps overlooked them.

For those of you wishing to take part in this 'experiment,' perhaps limiting ourselves to listing between five and ten things would be enough.

1. My wife, Monica made a delicious breakfast for me this morning.
2. My baby daughter, Giovanna, made me laugh today with her facial expressions.
3. Our two dear chickens, Daisy and Violet gifted us with two beautiful eggs this morning.
4. A man at the bank let me ahead of him when he saw me wearing Giovanna in the sling.
5. The barista at Scott's 47 made me a 'perfect' cappuccino this morning.
6. Our friends, Didar and Zirkan, brought over a generous sharing of the birthday cake Didar made for Zirkan.
7. Monica made a wonderful apple crisp and served me a nice heaping portion.
8. The plumber came to our house and fixed the leak in our bathroom tub.
9. I was served a delicious slice of pizza and glass of wine at Time Market this evening.
10. People I don't know have worked to create this technology allowing me to write up and publish this blog.

Tomorrow, I'll share my experience of contemplating the second question: What have I given today?

in metta,
poep sa frank jude

Book Club: Joining With Naturalness by Ari Goldfield and Rose Taylor

2010-11-07T12:15:00.000-08:00

I was looking forward to reading this chapter as it deals with Tibetan Buddhist Yoga, which is one Buddhist tradition I know relatively little about, and I was not disappointed at all! I was glad to see how in their opening paragraphs, Goldfield and Taylor acknowledge that there is indeed a wide variety of “Buddhist Yogas,” and so they take some time to define the terms as they will be using them! This is an important step that I also attempt whenever I teach, but one that many others do not take, and which leads to needless confusion and debate among practitioners.

What Does ‘Buddhist Yoga’ Mean?

I was very much taken by their explication of the Tibetan terms for Buddhist and Yoga. I like the idea of the “insider” as someone who looks and explores ‘inside’ one’s experience. This reminds me of Georg Feuerstein’s referring to yogis as being “psychonauts.” I also found it interesting that sang jeh, the Tibetan term for “Buddha” literally means “awaken” and “expand,” pointing to the fact that the qualities we associate with being a buddha are inherent within us, and that awakening is a kind of expansion of that innate nature. The understanding of nal-jor for “Yoga,” meaning “to join with naturalness” adds an interesting take to the oft-said definition as simply “to join.” It reminds us that ultimately, we are not joining two things that have separated but joining with what is always ‘naturally’ present!

In their discussion of what it means to “join with naturalness,” I like their emphasis on the non-separability of mind and body: the importance of involving mind when working with body and involving body when we work with mind. I think this is an important point, which when forgotten, leads to the mistaken notion that meditation is about the mind and hatha-yogasana is about the body. As I often remind students, when you are sitting in meditation, much of the experience is dealing with bodily issues: tickling, aches, numbness, tightness etc. and how to relate to them. And when practicing hatha, often we are taken up with recognizing the constant commentary the mind produces as we move through our sequence of postures: “I can’t stay here another moment!” “Darn, this side is soooo tight! I can’t get as deep into the posture as the guy next to me and this is his first class!” etc.

I don’t want this to go on too long, so I’ll comment on their main points regarding the Foundations of Buddhist Yoga tomorrow or the next day. Meanwhile, I’d love to hear from any of you who are following along your thoughts about this piece so far.

NOVEMBER DAILY PRACTICE: Naikan

2010-11-01T00:26:00.000-07:00

Okay, the following is an article I wrote for Yoga Journal a couple of years ago, about the practice of Naikan, which comes out of the Pure Land Buddhist tradition. As you'll see, it's a bit more involved than either the September or October Daily Practices, but I think you'll find it potentially one of the most life-affirming experiences you can have through practice.

If it seems like too much to do the whole practice every evening, may I suggest that you take just ten (10) minutes each evening to contemplate just one of the three questions, instead of all three.

SO, for instance, on Monday you can contemplate question one. On Tuesday, question two. On Wednesday, question three. Then repeat, question one on Thursday, question two on Friday and question three on Saturday. Take Sunday off!

I really hope you'll join me this month in this fascinating practice, and share your insights and experiences throughout the month.

yours in metta,

Poep Sa Frank Jude

Giving Thanks....

Standing in line at the grocery store, a friend was bowled over by the simplest act of kindness: a stranger let her step ahead of him in line with her quart of milk. Such a little thing and yet, as such "little things" sometimes do, it momentarily swelled her heart with joy and overwhelmed her with a rush of gratitude that lasted the whole day. What she experienced, and what she ultimately realized as the source of the gratitude, was more than the chance to checkout faster—it was the affirmation of her connection to a stranger and therefore to everyone.

Gratitude seems, on the surface, to be an emotion that arises from a sense of indebtedness to another person or object for taking care of you in some way, but looking deeper, you'll see that the feeling itself is actually a heightened awareness of your connection to everything. It’s a moment when you break out of the small self-centered point of view—with its ferocious expectations and demands for a romantic partner, a boss who sees all of your talents and none of your weaknesses, a gourmet dinner on the table—and appreciate that through the labors and intentions, and even the simple being of an inconceivably large number of people, weather patterns, chemical reactions and the like, you have been gifted with the miracle of your life, with all the goodness in it today.

Much of the time, you may be inclined, as Roger L’Estrange, the 17^th century author and pamphleteer said, “to mistake the gratuitous blessings of heaven for the fruits of our own industry,” while the truth is you are supported in countless ways all day long. You awaken on schedule when your alarm clock beeps—thanks to the engineers, designers, assembly workers, salespeople and others who brought you the clock; by the power company workers who manage your electricity supply; and many others. Your morning yoga practice is the gift of generations of yogis who observed the truth and shared what they knew, of your local teacher and her teacher and his teacher, of the authors of books or videos you use to practice; of your supervisor who lets you come in a little late; of your body (for which you could thank your parents, your doctor, your friend who helped you through the flu, the food that helps you maintain your good health, and the "you" who cares for that body day after day)—the list goes on.

When we awaken to the truth of this incredible interconnectedness, we are spontaneously filled with joy and appreciation. It is for this reason that one of the most transformative practices in which we can engage is the cultivation of gratitude. Patanjali wrote that samtosha (contentment, or appreciation for what you have) leads to unexcelled joy, while other yogic texts say that this sense of appreciation is the “supreme joy” that naturally leads to the realization of the Absolute. Yet how often do you actually feel and connect with gratitude?

Thankfully, gratitude can be cultivated. It simply takes practice. But if you're like most people, your practice is often focused more on noticing what goes wrong rather than all that's right. And, chances are, you’ve gotten really good at it! Human beings seem hard-wired to notice how reality fails to meet some conceptual ideal they have of how things should be. How many times a day do you sink into disappointment, frustration, and sadness, because others have fallen short of your expectations? If you limit your attention to how life lets you down, you blind yourself to the myriad gifts you are receiving all the time.

You may, for example, have ideas about the “ideal” holiday visit with your family: Where it will take place, who will be there, how everyone will act, what you'll eat, what kinds of presents you'll give and receive. But the actual visit surely won't match your ideas. And that's when you're likely to act like a child who has a certain Birthday gift in mind: As he unwraps one present after another, looking for that one toy his heart is set upon, he grows ever more upset and disappointed. Utterly dejected, the presents he has received lie unattended.

This will likely be your situation until you begin to consciously, mindfully, shift your attention from the mental formations you cling to, and begin paying attention to the reality of what is. For the fact of the matter is, regardless of how dissimilar your holiday gathering (or any other moment in life) might be from what you had imagined, there is much to be grateful for.

A short survey might include recognition and appreciation of the effort it took for our family members to get together in the first place, of the vehicles that brought you together, and all those who have constructed and helped maintain them; the clothes we wear, the utensils we use, the furniture and the house itself. We receive nourishment from what had once lived, whether vegetable or animal. And that food did not just magically appear. Before it was cooked, it required the energy of the sun, the minerals of the earth, the rain, the work of farmers, food processors, truckers and retailers to bring it to our table. It is, as Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh says, the gift of the whole universe. When we stop and really look, we see that we are supported continuously in literally countless ways. This is the highest wisdom of yoga -- the truth of interbeing, no separation.

To begin to pay attention to how fully and completely we are supported, we must break out of our constricted cage of self. With a more balanced view of reality, we are less preoccupied with what’s not meeting our expectations, and more present to what is given. We grow more appreciative of what we have, and seeing how dependent we are on others, we grow in generosity, wishing in some small way to repay at least a part of our debt.

Thank Your Mom!

To begin cultivating gratitude, it helps to be aware of some of the most pernicious obstacles to doing so; often it is these very obstacles that provide the opportunities for practice. One of the most obvious obstacles is the failure to notice what you have—a working alarm clock, a roof over your head, a family with which to share the holidays. As the song says, “we never miss what we’ve got till it’s gone.” So, first thing you need to do is to start paying attention to what you have!

And here’s where expectations can prove to be an obstacle. We expect our alarm clock or our car to work, our loved ones to be there for us. Once we come to expect something, we tend not to pay it attention. We take it for granted. So, use expectations as reminders to cultivate gratitude.

Another big obstacle, and therefore another opportunity to cultivate gratitude, is the trap of thinking you are entitled. Gratitude may not spontaneously arise when the garbage man takes away your trash, since he's "just doing his job. " But the fact is regardless of his motivation, you are benefiting from his efforts and can meet them with an expression of gratitude.

So far, I’ve been talking about the formless practice of cultivating gratitude through simple mindfulness. A formal practice, developed in Japan by a practitioner of Pure Land Buddhism, is known as Naikan, which means “looking inside.” It’s a structured method of self-reflection that encourages a more objective survey of ourselves and our relationship to the world. At its most profound, Naikan is practiced on retreat with trained counselors. From dawn to night, every day for a week, retreatants sit and reflect on their mother—what they received from her, what they gave to her, and what troubles they caused her. They generally spend 90 – 120 minutes reflecting on their life, first from birth to age six, and then for each three-year period of their life, meeting with a counselor after each session, until their whole life has been examined in relation to their mother. They then move on to their father, siblings, lovers, friends, etc. Retreatants are free to honestly look, perhaps for the first time, at how they have lived their lives. Despite the emotional and physical difficulties of such retreats, participants typically end retreat feeling deeply loved and supported, experiencing a rich vibrancy of life, and a sense of oneness with the world and others. They also often feel a strong desire to generously give to others as they have received.

Naikan can also be done as a daily practice -- the rewards will become immediately evident in the blossoming of a natural, deeply felt sense of gratitude and appreciation for your life, and for all the gifts you receive daily. Gifts that we realize were always there, but went unnoticed and therefore unappreciated. The practice of Naikan can lead you to the realization that you are rich indeed, and that not only are you not alone, you are truly supported by the universe! You may even come to see the truth in the exhortation of the 13^th century mystic Meister Eckhart: “If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, ‘thank you,’ that would suffice.”

A Question of Gratitude

By becoming aware of all that we've received, we find gratitude for all that happens in our days. Make Naikan your evening practice for this month and see what happens!

Question One: Sitting comfortably, with eyes closed, take a few moments to bring attention to your breath, mantra or any technique that you normally use to center yourself. When you feel settled, ask yourself: What have I received today?

Be specific and reflect on as many things as you can remember. It can be something as simple as the smile your partner gifted you with as you awoke, the cup of coffee s/he brought you, or the sound of birdsong at dawn; the driver who let you merge into the crowded freeway; your car that you used to run your errands. Remember, the motivation or attitude of those who gave you something is not the issue. Maybe you were offered lunch because you showed up at lunchtime rather than because your friend made some personal effort to make you lunch. The fact is, you were fed, and you can cultivate gratitude for that. The mere fact that you benefited from something or someone’s actions is all that is required to cultivate a heart of gratitude.

Notice how many of these things you didn’t appreciate as they happened. Can you recall what was taking your attention when one of these acts of grace occurred? Were you stuck in problem-solving mode, thinking of your “to do” list, or in making judgments? Reflecting like this, we may be surprised at just how many things we receive throughout any given day.

Question Two: After you’ve replayed the whole day in your mind, contemplate the question: What have I given today?

Go through the day’s events in the same way, but this time noticing what you have given to others during the day. Be as specific and concrete as possible. As above, your motivation is irrelevant. What did you actually do? It may be something as simple as feeding your cats, washing the breakfast dishes, or sending a friend a birthday card. We often live as if the world owes us. As you reflect on what you have given today, you will likely see that, if anything, each of us owes the world an insurmountable debt. This insight is more than merely humbling; you may find yourself not only feeling a deeper sense of gratitude, but a natural desire to be as generous as you can in serving others.

Question Three: For the final ten minutes, contemplate the question: What troubles and difficulties did I cause today?

Again, be specific. Don’t overlook the seemingly “insignificant.” Your list may include things like, “I backed-up traffic while looking for a place to park,” or “I chased the cats off the lounge chair so I could sit there.” This question is often the hardest, but its importance cannot be overstated. It may bring up feelings of remorse, but its primary purpose is to provide a more realistic view of our life. Mostly, we are all too aware of how others cause us inconvenience or difficulty, but rarely do we notice when we are the source of inconvenience. And if we do, we usually brush it aside as “an accident,” “not that big a deal,” or “I didn’t mean it.” We cut ourselves a huge length of slack! But seeing how we cause others difficulty can deflate our ego, while reminding us again of the grace by which we live.

These questions provide the framework for reflecting on all relationships, including with family, friends, work associates, partners, pets and even objects. You can reflect on a specific person over the course of your relationship, on the events of one day, or a holiday visit to your family.

The practice of Daily Naikan is best done toward the end of the day, allowing about 30 minutes, though you could take less time if necessary. Remember, what makes this a meditative practice is that we are not analyzing our underlying motivations or intentions; we are not interpreting or judging. We are simply shifting our attention from self-centered thinking to seeing things as they are, and as all Yoga traditions point out, in seeing, there is wisdom and liberation.

Book Club: Zen or Yoga? by Victoria Austin (Part Three)

2010-10-30T23:19:00.000-07:00

Taking up where I left off in the last post, Austin answers the question, “What is an ongoing student’s experience like in Zen? And in Yoga?” I think she captures the truth of such students’ experiences – especially in the context of contemporary practice where hatha practices of asana and to a lesser extent, pranayama are just about all that is practiced!

Her response to the following question could have benefited from more depth, I think. First, as phrased, the question “Is there a problem particular to an ongoing student of both Zen and Yoga” reifies the very distinction Victoria argues against in her opening introduction! Zen is a form of Yoga! However, if it is phrased, “Is there a problem particular to an ongoing student of both Zen and Hatha-Yoga (or Zen and Classical-Yoga)” then I do agree that such a student can become confused, but such confusion would arise more from the language and ‘metaphysical’ differences between the two.

For instance, let me offer an example from my own experience. In the mid-90s, I was invited to begin offering Mindfulness Yoga sessions during Ango at Zen Mountain Monastery, as well as weekend retreats there twice a year as part of their ‘body practice’ training. I was told at the time that they had tried bringing in a hatha-yoga teacher several years earlier, but the students became confused and sometimes put-off by the teacher’s use of terms such as “True Self” and “devotion to the divine,” which are terms that can cause cognitive dissonance with students learning about the Buddha’s teachings on “not-Self” and “emptiness.” As someone who has practiced and trained in Zen, they felt that my instruction was in harmony with the Zen Dharma teachings offered and in fact were a helpful adjunct to their other practices.

So as for Victoria’s suggestion that students take up one discipline as a main practice and any other disciplines as support for at least five years, I would say I agree if we’re talking about textual study of philosophies. As shown by the experience at Zen Mountain, a Zen student would be confused by the Yoga-Sutra if she studied it before having cultivated a deep understanding of Zen. I think Victoria would agree that if one were to take up serious Zen study and practice, asana and pranayama could be a wonderful support right from the start. Once grounded in experiential understanding, studying the Yoga-Sutra would not be confusing and could indeed shed light on one’s Zen practice. I believe similar things could be said of the serious Yoga student.

Again, from my experience teaching long-term, seriously devoted students of Integral Yoga at Yogaville, the Buddhist teachings and approach to meditation initially cause many of them confusion, and even doubt, before they find that the teachings can support and deepen their own awareness of the Classical Yoga and Vedanta they are steeped in. In fact, for many of them, many forms of Buddhist meditation do not fall into their understanding of what meditation is!

As to the question of how to integrate the two practices, I think the choice falls into either the ‘complementary’ approach or the fully integrated approach. For years, I practiced a ‘complementary’ approach, treating asana practice as a way of preparing my bodymind for sitting. With such an approach, obviously all I was doing was taking the physical practice from hatha-yoga and adding it to my practice of zazen. Zen was the ‘core’ practice and study.

Now, I fully integrate many teachings from Patanjali that I believe support my Zen pratice. Concepts such as abhyasa and vairagya, to mention just two, for instance, while not absent from Zen teaching, are not as fully explicated as in the Classical Yoga tradition. In my teaching, I quote from both Patanjali and the Buddha fairly freely.

In Victoria’s response to this question, I was a bit taken aback when she seems to equate “Self (the Yoga term) or Mind (the Zen term)” as I think this confusing and inaccurate.

Again, the question about structuring a practice that includes asana and seated meditation falls into the reductionist model of equating Yoga with the physical practices of hatha-yoga. As far as that goes, I think it’s good to experiment and see for oneself. I personally find that sitting meditation after asana practice (and perhaps some pranayama) tends to be deeper and stiller. But I know others who prefer to meditate before practicing hatha-yogasana.

As to ‘confusing’ the two practices, for me, whether I am practicing asana or walking or sitting meditation, there is no real differnce, so there’s nothing to ‘confuse.’ Of course, I do not wear my Zen robes while practicing hatha-yogasana, and would not wear my Yoga pants and tee-shirt to offer a Zen Dharma Talk.

As you can see from my response to the question of ‘integration,’ I totally disagree with Victoria that one ‘risks losing what makes each lineage a teaching’ if one uses concepts from both traditions. Does either tradition need the other as if either were ‘incomplete?’ No, of course not. But I do find that integrating concepts from both make for an even more comprehensive, coherent practice.

In fact, the response to her next question seems to fly in the face of her own response here as when she says that by obeying her Zen teacher and stopping attending Yoga classes she ‘unintentionally ignored yogic self-study.’ This whole notion of svadhyaya is of course not absent from Zen; after all, Dogen explains zazen as ‘the study of the self.’ But I do think that articulating it as clearly and forcefully as the Classical Yoga tradition does is indeed a support to one’s over-all inclusive Yoga practice of Zen!

The next question I think is yet another variation of others already responded to, so I will skip adding to that and finish with my response to the last question:

“Which philosophy best describes reality?”

Well, isn’t that the $60,000 question?! And another important question is “Can we know for sure?” Victoria jumps right into the breech by pointing out the dualism that is fundamental to Patanjali’s Classical Yoga. Prakriti is the ‘essence’ of nature she speaks of, thought to be ontologically real. It is the ‘first maker’ of all the manifest universe including your body and mind! Whereas Purusha is the “Self” which is simply and only the ‘witness.’ It is stressed by Patanjali that Purusha is completely uninvolved in the workings of Prakriti.

The Buddha’s core teaching of anatta says that there is no transcendent, independent, autonomous, ‘essence’ behind, above, within, or without the ever-changing flux of experience. He did not deny that there is a ‘self,’ but this is a phenomenological and empirical self that is always changing because it is completely part of the causal flow of conditions.

Now, Victoria may be accurate in saying that “Buddhism is not usually thought of as dualistic,” but this is an incorrect perception! Her statement that “Ultimate reality and relative reality are not considered to be separate” is taken to be absolute nonsense, for instance, by the Theravada Buddhist tradition. I think it may come as a shock to many Mahayana/Zen and Vajrayana Buddhists to read the following essay by Bhikkhu Bodhi, Dhamma and Non-Duality

I will only quote a few pertinent passages here:

“The Mahayana schools, despite their great differences, concur in upholding a thesis that, from the Theravada point of view, borders on the outrageous. This is the claim that there is no ultimate difference between samsara and Nirvana, defilement and purity, ignorance and enlightenment. For the Mahayana, the enlightenment which the Buddhist path is designed to awaken consists precisely in the realization of this non-dualistic perspective….

The teaching of the Buddha as found in the Pali canon does not endorse a philosophy of non-dualism of any variety, nor, I would add, can a non-dualistic perspective be found lying implicit within the Buddha's discourses….

At the peak of the pairs of opposites stands the duality of the conditioned and the Unconditioned: samsara as the round of repeated birth and death wherein all is impermanent, subject to change, and liable to suffering, and Nibbana as the state of final deliverance, the unborn, ageless, and deathless. Although Nibbana, even in the early texts, is definitely cast as an ultimate reality and not merely as an ethical or psychological state, there is not the least insinuation that this reality is metaphysically indistinguishable at some profound level from its manifest opposite, samsara. To the contrary, the Buddha's repeated lesson is that samsara is the realm of suffering governed by greed, hatred, and delusion, wherein we have shed tears greater than the waters of the ocean, while Nibbana is irreversible release from samsara, to be attained by demolishing greed, hatred, and delusion, and by relinquishing all conditioned existence.

Thus the Theravada makes the antithesis of samsara and Nibbana the starting point of the entire quest for deliverance. Even more, it treats this antithesis as determinative of the final goal, which is precisely the transcendence of samsara and the attainment of liberation in Nibbana. Where Theravada differs significantly from the Mahayana schools, which also start with the duality of samsara and Nirvana, is in its refusal to regard this polarity as a mere preparatory lesson tailored for those with blunt faculties, to be eventually superseded by some higher realization of non-duality. From the standpoint of the Pali Suttas, even for the Buddha and the arahants suffering and its cessation, samsara and Nibbana, remain distinct.”

Wow! There couldn’t be a stronger refutation of Victoria’s assertion that “Ultimate reality and relative reality are not considered to be separate.” Pali Buddhism has much in common with Patanjali’s dualism, especially if you replace Prakriti with samsara and Purusha with nirvana. Now of course, if one understands Purusha as the “True Self,” then the Buddha would part company with Patanjali over this, as he sees even nirvana empty of Self.

She offers that from her experience, these differences are merely “apparent conflicts” that arise “when we attempt to describe experiences beyond words.” That may be so, but the Buddha spoke many words about his experience and understanding, and refuted those who taught Samkhya. He most likely would have refuted the later Mahayana non-dual teachings in a way similar to how Patanjali criticizes some Mahayana teachings in his Yoga-Sutra.

So, does this all matter. I don’t know. I know people who are compassionate, wise-acting, full of joy and peace who practice and believe all sorts of things! I know such practitioners in the Theravada as well as the Mahayana and Vajrayana, not to mention practitioners of Vedanta and Tantra! (Here I am sticking to traditions within the larger Yoga Tradition; obviously there are such folk who are Humanists, Christians, Muslims, Jewish etc.)

Victoria is perhaps wiser than I am, as I notice she really avoids responding directly to the straight-forward question. From my side, I believe the Buddhist teaching on anatta and co-origination make sense and seem to describe reality more accurately – from what we apparently know through empirical science – than the other philosophies.

This ends my comments on this thought-provoking essay on Zen and Yoga. I look forward to hearing from you as to your thoughts!

Book Club: Zen or Yoga? by Victoria Austin (Part Two)

2010-10-25T22:28:00.000-07:00

Taking up where I left last post, Austin responds to the following question, “How did Yoga become a word for a physical tradition?” by quoting B.K.S. Iyengar. However, the quote speaks of “merging the individual soul … with the Universal Soul” and while this may be one way of speaking of Vedanta, it makes absolutely no sense in Patanjali’s model, which elsewhere Austin says Iyengar teaches. This is one of the more tenacious misunderstandings rife in the western hatha-yoga community!

In fact, I don’t think Austin ever really answers the question. A more straight-forward response would acknowledge the historical and cultural conditions that led to the emphasis on physical practice when Yoga was brought to the west over the last century or so. Ironically, Vivekananda, often seen as the first Indian yogi to introduce Yoga to the west spoke at the Chicago Congress of Religion at the end of the 19^th century, but never mentioned the word “yoga,” and shied away from asana practice because he thought Americans would find it ‘strange!’

In the following question, as to whether Yoga and Zen, as both ways of uniting body and mind aren’t after all the same path, Ausin offers a really good response. Undeniably, both offer practices designed to unite body and mind, and both speak about suffering, its causes, and how to ameliorate it, but they offer dramatically distinct rationales. So, they offer distinct paths, while being ‘universal’ to some degree.

Sadly, I think Austin falls far short in her response to the following question, “Why would someone study both Zen and Yoga.” After her clear and concise introduction, in her response to this question, she falls back into equating Yoga with the physical practice of asana and Zen with meditation!!!! I find this frustrating. The second half of her response does indeed call this a “false duality,” but the whole first half speaks in terms of Yoga providing a way to ‘search out obstacles of body and mind that otherwise may block the Zen practitioner from taking real refuge” because they may have “great difficulty sitting.” And Zen, she says, with its “teachings of sitting, precepts, and work can be a revelation for the Yoga practitioner who has lost contact with any of the eight limbs of Yoga” by providing “a wider view.”

What Austin is describing here is the way things are when we speak of the situation in the majority of Hatha-Yoga studios, where it is all physical and little or no teachings of the ethics and meditation. BUT, it would have been clearer had she spoken of Hatha-Yoga and Zen, rather than Yoga and Zen.

I think her response to the last question I’ll take up here, “How is Buddhism yogic?” is excellent. I am delighted that she even says something I often mention in my History and Philosophy lectures: the Buddha’s teachings are the “first sustained expression and development of yogic ideas.” So many contemporary yoga practitioners, because of their limited understanding of Yoga as the physical practice of asana, are confused and surprised when I make similar comments. Yogic ideas permeated the Upanishads (some of which appeared before the Buddha) and the epic poems (including the Mahabharata and it’s Bhagavad Gita), but nowhere before the Buddha do we find such a coherent path laid out. And we don’t really see it again until Patanjali’s Yoga-Sutra.

I hope to file my final posting on this chapter of Freeing the Body, Freeing the Mind by the end of this week, but meanwhile, I look forward to your comments.