LIVING COMPASSION 3 – THE POLITICS OF LOVE

Today’s photo evokes the romance of the school dance. An oft used descriptor of that moment would be “innocence” although, events later in the parking lot might not be very innocent. Yet, we wistfully remember clumsily fumbling around another person in the dark because whether it was glorious, frightening or both, opening the heart was a powerful moment for us.

I sadly never got out of my head long enough to let my heart into the equation but maybe it happened at some point.  It wasn’t until years later when meditation gave me the courage to allow vulnerability. But, whether it was groping on a high school dance floor, fumbling in the back seat, or sitting on the meditation cushion, the moment of frailty when we “fall” is an important step in our spiritual journey.

Falling in love sounds lovely, but falling can be a frightening experience. As it is scary to have our defenses pulled away, it is nonetheless very powerful when we allow ourselves to open.

The Tibetan Buddhist systems speak of “transmission”, which is a nonlinear communication that happens to us, despite whatever it is we are trying to do. Transmission is a seemingly instantaneous joining of our body, mind and heart. This happens when a realized teacher performs a ceremony, when we are in a car accident, and sometimes when we fall in love. Our body is responding, our heart is opening and our mind is clear. We are not trying to do anything anymore than a diver tries to dive, or a painter tries to create a masterpiece. Michelangelo famously said that he could not take credit for sculpting his statue of David. He said he simply removed all the rock that wasn’t David. He removed the obstacles and the truth was revealed.

Of course, there is a lot of trying involved in developing a skill. But the magic happens when we let go and let the transmission take place. The actual transmission of David was Michelangelo’s connection to the universe, not a triumph of his will. Our spiritual path is like this. Most of the time, we apply ourselves to hard work. But every now and then we lift our gaze and everything opens. We can learn, but realization comes from a surrendering of learning. Itis a surrendering of will. We fall. As in love, we might strategize our courtship. But when we actually fall, the world opens up and strategies are useless. We become lost in the music of life.

I was grew up in a tenement in New Jersey. My dad worked days and went to school nights, my mom worked in the city, but we would gather around the TV when we could like our forebears gathering around the hearth, or the fire. As with them, the TV allowed us to share  sadness, happiness and laughter with our world. I still remember the extraordinary moment on the Ed Sullivan show that swept us away from the tension of our life and brought joy and love through those small rooms. After that transmission, my mom would gather brooms and mops from the closet for us to use as guitars. My mother, brother, and I sister would sing along to our first two Beatle songs, “She Loves You” and “I’ll get you.”. We went to church every Sunday in those days. A banner above my grandfather’s pulpit read “God Is Love”. We were an evangelical Pentecostal community and I had witnessed the Holy Spirit entering members of the congregation in a transmission of the power of the love of God. Speaking in tongues, ecstatic dance, and shaking are moments when body, spirit and mind become one. For me, it was standing in front of the mirror with my broom guitar jumping up and down. This presupposed Lennon’s infamous declaration that the Beatles were more important to my generation than God.  And to this day, I can be lost in the pure joy of a pop song in a way that short circuits my doubtful, sarcastic mind, and gives me the confidence to fall in love.

Ecstatic moments join body, spirit and mind into a moment far greater than all the concepts or ideas that lead us to it. No one could have guessed that the power of love might take hold of the world from four boys who initially were just trying to impress girls. But it was the ecstatic explosion of the audience, drowning out even their own voices, that propelled us to see the world more fully than we ever had. With all the military might and bluster of the men who ruled society, the power of teenage girls to bring the world to its knees went completely overlooked. Yet, this has been an undercurrent throughout history. Helen, as Marlowe said, had a “face that launched a thousand ships”, Shakespeare’s Juliet, Garbo, Monroe, Cleopatra, Nefertiti and the iconic images of Quan Yin, Lilith and Tara all represent the disruptive and transformative power of love. In Vajrayana Buddhism there is a deity called Vajrayogini who is depicted as a teenage woman in the full prime of her youth. For many, she is a primary Tantric goddess of the “Dakini” class. Dakinis, or “sky dancers”,  are depicted as young women unbound by temporal constraints The Dakini affects great change. She represents the transformative power of Love. You can study her liturgies, but it’s only through direct contact and a willingness to surrender to her flames that our transformation occurs,

While we can analyze platonic love, study spiritual love and try our best to bring about love on Earth, we cannot try to understand the transformative power of romantic/disruptive love. We can only experience it. And that experience can only happen when we are willing to let down our defences and surrender to the darked arms of the Goddess’ death embrace. As it says in the prayer of St Francis “it is by dying that one receives eternal life.” To Buddhists this refers to “ego-death” which is an essential step to liberation.  Yet death of the ego feels like death itself. Like the “little death” of an orgasm, we cannot receive this transmission by trying. As the great master Yoda said, “Try not. Do or do not. There is no try.”

What if humans evolve to the point of surrender? What if we stop trying to fix, change and control and allow ourselves, instead, to discover? There is a school of thought that says past, present and future are just a construct and all events have already happened. Another school of thought suggests that until we can conceive a thing we cannot see it. And yet, it is only by releasing the concept that we can touch it. If everything we think will happen has already happened, then all we need to do is be open to the possibility. And believe. And then let go and receive.

What if instead of paying endless lip service to love, we just deeply kiss the world? What if our politics and our nations were organized around faith in the power of love? I guess the process is to conceive it and then believe it and then let that go and simply be it. Thich Nhat Hanh said, “BE love.” Believe it and be it.

What if we stop over valuing destruction and might  and began to organize ourselves around a politics of love?

Imagine.

If you look closely at the picture above you’ll see a band playing for 18 people. They would not have guessed that in a short time they would change the world.

They were probably just hoping to meet girls.

 

 

————

LIVING COMPASSION 2 – SECURING THE BASE

LIVING COMPASSION

 

Seeing Beyond Our Pain

 

We are the product of love. Even if our life sometimes seems separated from love, the act of love happened someplace. Love is everywhere around us whether or not we are able to contact it.

Contacting love in our life is possible if we are free of the turmoil that often occupies our mind. Sometimes this happens accidentally, as when something startles us and stops our mind.  Sometimes it happens when our mind naturally notices a flower or bird that opens our mind. Then we are left with open space and are able to see beyond the usual static. Although love is necessary to life, it can  also be startling and amazing. As a thought experiment, imagine momentarily removing all the aggression and contention from mind. Without the filter we would see evidence of love and kindness everywhere. Grass growing, bees humming, the wind caressing our face. Love is everywhere and not just in rom-coms.

Romantic love instigates hormonal changes to our system that sometimes allow usus feel all is right with the world. This is not only because of that special someone. It is because our mind opened and allowed us a glimpse of its essential heart. Love may be the essential heart of the universe. Everything that exists can be seen as an expression of love. But as necessary to the universe as love is, it is accompanied by destruction. When I have fallen in love, the feeling is always accompanied by fear and sadness. Perhaps I am frightened by a lack of control as I feel swept away, or saddened by the loss of love I anticipate or have experienced. What seems most real to me is that falling in love connects me to the deepest parts of life. All of these feelings are natural to humans. All of the circumstances that provoke these feelings are natural to the universe. When I see a rabbit in the grass my mind always stops and I spontaneously feel love and joy. But that rabbit so happily eating its flowers, will hop into the shadows and into a sad and painful death. But the rabbit continues eating. It is  as aware of potential danger around it as its evolutionary state allows, but it is not interrupting its meal.  On the other hand, I have indigestion because of a meeting I have later in the day.

Compassion is natural to all life. But so is danger. Much of life does what it can to sustain itself and focuses its cellular attention on living, growing and providing, serene in its unknowing. Most life is a natural and necessary part of the dance of the planet. But, the greatest danger to the balance of life comes from the only part of the planet that sees itself. The one who’s acidic stomach is gurgling as it watches the rabbit hop merrily into the wooded shadows. The greatest danger lies within. This is as true of ourselves and our societies. This is the greatest danger because it is the one unseen. We are so attuned to the danger around us, we lie in vulnerable ignorance of the aggression we cause ourselves and others. It is the work of compassion practice to help us reprogram the mind to balance the openness of loving moments with the truth of the dangers in life.  We do this by de-emphasizing the importance of ourselves to ourselves that is clouding the picture.  THis is not to say that we are not important. We are just not as important enough to suck the air out of life. Humans are a little like drunken blowhards going on about their workout routine at a party. SIr Harold Pinter wrote a play called “The Party” in which a group of haute society people revelled in their intrigues and drama while occasionally, we have seemingly inconsequential references to turmoil in the streets. By play’s end it is clear the turmoil is a violent revolution that will end everything they know.

The practice of compassion is not just about love. Love is there regardless. Our practice is about addressing the aggression within each of us that blocks our ability to love. It is about removing our willful ignorance.  This is not about love over hatred. It’s about seeing the nature of our hatred, so we can look past it to what is around us. So, it is essential to (re)develop wisdom as we cultivate compassion. Hatred is an unnatural expression of natural fears. If we understand this, we begin to see that all beings experience fear, yet only humans express this as hatred. The natural world is rife with aggression. But the lion attacking its prey doesn’t hate the antelope. The lion doesn’t lie in her den ruminating on how the world would be better without antelopes. In fact, that very thought would be a form of suicide. Just as indiscriminately sealing borders or burning books are forms of cultural suicide hiding under the guise of protection. Who benefits if we are so intent on protection that we shut down all the life around us? At that point, what is it we are protecting?

Bodhicitta is the Sanskrit term for “awakened heart / mind.” In the Indian systems, and the Tibetan systems after them, heart and mind are symbiotic. They are necessary components of the development of our spiritual selves. We begin to de-emphasize the ego-self that obscures wisdom in protective self-interest. We do this, amazingly, by loving ourselves. Loving ourselves and treating ourselves with respect builds the confidence we need to be less reactive and less important. We have the confidence to stop protecting our space and open our hearts to wisdom. WE develop the wisdom to see the importance of love. With our screaming self-interest diminished, we are able to see clearly the love in our world without being blind to any danger around us. By owning our fears and not isolating blame on others, we are able to work beyond them and contact the love that is so necessary to our survival.

As our heart and mind re-unite, our life re-unites with the world as it is. Developing living compassion is recognizing the natural love in our heart and extending that out to our world. Love allows us to open and openness allows us to see. Therefore, loving compassion is living compassion as it connects us to life. It does this because it is a natural expression of life. Compassion is self-existing, it need not be manufactured. Our work is to love ourselves enough to find the courage to step out of our protective cocoon and to see the natural love all around us.

 

 

_____

NOT TOO TIGHT, NOT TOO LOOSE

——-
THE PATH BETWEEN EXTREMES
——-
A river flowing down the mountain began its journey as a puddle, its ill defined boundaries leaking into mud. At some point, gravity urged it into a downward stream that found a path of least resistance down the mountain. Over time the trickle became a stream, which cut its way through the earth and as the earth gave way, the river forged its path to the ocean. That path was not the will of the river, nor was it the intention of the earth from which it was cut. The river flowed as the water found its way to synchronicity with the earth, gravity and the rainfall, snow, or melting ice. Nature works when opposing forces combine to be a value greater than their parts. The river remains a mud puddle until the earth gives way and creates a conduit for the water to flow. The Earth creates the structure and conditions that allow the water its creative direction.
—–
Following the flow of life is not abdicating agency and leaking out in every direction. Once we find our flow state, it is important to remain awake so we can navigate the path. The flow state is not turning the lights off to auto pilot. It is not going with the flow wherever it goes. In that case, it goes nowhere. The flow state requires discipline and form to allow direction and movement. So, we are disciplining ourselves to follow the guidelines, but also disciplining ourselves not to be too rigid. We are disciplining ourselves to let go and trust the flow. However, as the flow state is already there, we do not have to make it happen. It’s not about our will, but surrendering our individual will to work with all the forces involved. Just as water works with gravity, the earth and other natural resources, so we too work with human and societal resources. Energy, spiritual health, income, and the laws of society are some of the myriad factors that can either block our progress or create a conduit for its creative expression.
_______
Even the most free-form artistic discipline is still a discipline. All creativity needs a block to struggle against to which it learns to conform. The block becomes the guide. The river and its cradling earth become symbiotic. Writers push past writer’s block. The great British playwright Harold Pinter said that the most frightening thing in his life was the blank page. Each time we begin our process, we might be unclear or muddy.  But if we work WITH our circumstances, we might find our path of least resistance and find our flow. The necessary tension between space and form create a balance for us to navigate. WE are not doing it. We are following the flow of life with our eyes wide open. If our eyes are open, we will do little wrong. Even if the flow leads us to places we did not intend, there is no fault unless we lose sight in our disappointment. If our eyes are open we will see that this wrong turn has led us to a new place. Life will always throw curves.  And it should.  But with training in letting go, we can navigate the curves with grace. When we stop to argue with the inevitable, we are interrupting our flow.
——-
It’s not what happens to us, it’s how we respond to what happens that matters. And if we are fighting uphill with every obstacle we meet, we will lose our flow. In fact, any expression of unregarded / unresolved fear, will create tension in our mind and body. Tension is a gripping. Gripping is not letting go or allowing things to flow. We’re putting our breaks on again and again. How does fear block our flow? Having a solid idea of where it should lead. Or, as we said, pushing our flow in a direction to please or appease anyone else. Conversely, being selfish or narcissistic cuts us off from the cooperation of nature. Trees don’t stand out proclaiming greatness. Nature is cooperative, even when it is antagonistic. If that seems contradictory, it may be best if we look at is as being complementary. Opposing forces that create a balance. This is a dynamic process. And dynamic processes are, by nature, in development, and so can feel scary. Letting go is scary. That’s why we have structure to guide us. Where are you heading in life? What decision will best serve that? So navigating life requires the confidence to sit up and pay attention as life happens. To have the courage to let go of control, yet nonetheless remain awake enough to respond to what happens.
———-
Therefore, navigating life requires both the tightness of structure and the looseness of flow. We need rules and a constriction of options to allow a clear direction. But, as important as structure is, it is not more important than the creative flow. Perhaps nothing is. Rules are not the point. I can hear the OCD in me gasping. But rules are here to support life. And life is the point. Money is here to provide for our life. Work is here to build our life. Even our health is only here to support our capacity to enjoy life. We are not here to live for money, or our job or even our health. We are here to live. Money allows that, but it is unhealthy and uncreative to make money our purpose. What kind of life is only about following rules? On the other hand, when we say creative life, we are not saying that we can abandon all rules. That would be creative suicide. Creativity needs structure. They are symbiotic. The river needs the earth it fights with. This balance between form and creativity brings out the best in our life.
——–
In the Zen Tradition they say, “Not too tight, not too loose.” And this can be a mantra, of sorts. It’s about balance. Form is there to guide us, but not suffocate us. Compassion for others is our highest calling. But it’s neither a rule nor a compulsion. Compassion is the natural development of a mind that is at peace. Kindness is not an obligation. It is the best way to behave to create a calm and even flow through life. All the things we think we must force ourselves to be, such as being loving, reliable, kind and productive can happen if we allow them to happen. Set our sights on what is meaningful to us, and then relax with faith and openness. It’s not about us. It’s about synchronizing with everything.
——–
Controlling life is not healthy or productive. Controlling is too tight. However, just letting it all hang with no direction is too loose. Sometimes we rail against the authority of form, and this stops the flow, but it may be necessary to reboot the process or add freshness to a routine. But once we reboot, finding the groove and waking up in the rhythm of life. Navigating between the extremes of too tight and too loose we find the balance point for optimal creativity in life. A dancer needs discipline, but the point of the discipline is to let go into the piece. No one wants to see anyone work. We want to see them dance. We want the fruit of their labor.  So, form need never be seen. The hand of the director should never be seen. The dance should feel as natural as the river.
———-
Tibetan Buddhism introduces deities as tutelary methods to instruct the mind toward more elemental experiences. Vajrayogini is a deity that represents the creative passion of a wakeful mind. In many depictions she is seen holding two implements. In her left hand a cup filled with sacred liquor meant to uninhibit the constricted mind. In her right hand she holds a hook knife that abruptly cuts ego. So, she provokes and then meditates. She entices and then disallows  She is usually depicted in the dancing form of the dakini. She is beautiful and provocative yet we can never be attached to her. When we speak of the Buddha’s middle way, we are not talking about a vanilla avoidance of conflict or transgression. We are talking about the great freedom between appreciation and grasping. On one hand we are intoxicated by the beauty of the world, on the other we have the sword of our discipline that cuts attachment. And what happens when we are in love, but cannot attach?
——-
We dance.
——–
Vajrayogini dances in the sky between creativity and discipline. She dances between extremes, not too tight, not too loose.
——
——
______

SYNCHRONICITY & FLOW – 3

Slowing Down to Move Quickly

We began our discussion of flow by establishing the practice of calm abiding (Shamatha) to settle into the present, so that we can let go into a natural organic flow in our practice and life. Last post we used an analogy of the flowing water to depict the movement of mind, from a raging waterfall to a slow rolling river. With practice, we might reach a calm described as a placid lake that represents the stillness inherent in movement of our mind. Developing awareness in meditation practice creates a template for awareness in our life. We use tools to help instruct the mind to find its flow, in order to relax into that flow of life.

This post will introduce the idea of slowing down in order to establish or reestablish a flow that allows us to move more efficiently. Here we will use the analogy of the cat, relaxing in repose, so that it has the energy and calm to spring into action. We are talking about how to maintain synchronicity so that our flow is strong and even.  This requires an aware meditation of our energy. If we move too quickly for our present circumstances, we lose connection to synchronicity. Such as when we’re moving so quickly, we fail to see where we are going. In the Tibetan Buddhist tradition it is said that speeding through life is an essential disregard for our humanity. Our personal dignity becomes subsumed by anxiety as we scurry like a hamster. The goal becomes more important than the journey. But, it is said, the journey is the goal. How we approach life is as important as anything else in life. Meditating our speed allows us to move with grace and dignity. It also allows us to move more efficiently. Sometimes we need to slow down in order to get things done. On the other hand, sometimes we need to encourage ourselves to move more quickly in order to maintain our energy. Sometimes we need encouragement to move at all.

This becomes easier if we understand that “we” don’t have to do anything at all but simply join the flow. Our breath, our life, our beating heart are all in process. So, coming back to the body we can settle into now, and then step into the natural movement of life. If we jump out of bed lunging forward, we lose the mindfulness on which synchronicity is based. And synchronicity is our entrance into the flow. When we act in panic, we are not in flow. But the flow is always there. We just need to slow down a bit and reconnect to it. On the other hand, when we are dragging behind out of fear, or because our heart is not in it, we are blocking the flow and we might need a kick start.  But, that kick start requires mindfulness. In order to move forward we might need to calm our expectations and our judgement in order to be present. Maintaining our connection to flow requires a balance of mindfulness and movement.  In the Zen tradition, they say “Not too tight. Not too loose.”

Sometimes in my self-training, when I find myself speeding up out of anxiety or impatience, I make myself pause. It’s an odd experience because my deep mind is pushing me to move quickly, and I’ve trained myself to stop and pause. Sometimes this is because I’m actually exhausted and my reaction to that is to push through. This lack of self-respect, blocks our flow. I might counter this by actually sitting down until the moment shifts, reestablishing my dignity.

I worked with a Shaman named Whitewind Weaver in Washington. She would tell me, slow down enough to move quickly. She had gardeners construct a lovely and very organic labyrinth on her grounds. She would have me walk the labyrinth whenever I was getting speedy and stressed. I always hated that at first, but it always calmed me and recalibrated my approach. I hated it because I was addicted to my speed. Speed gives me a sense of self-importance which would lead to outright narcissism. “Get out of my way!” “I’m in a hurry so I’m important”. One time I was rushing up Broadway in Manhattan late for a meditation talk I was giving. The irony of rushing to meditation was not lost on me. And Manhattan offers a specific kind of torture, as cabs are often slower in traffic and, in this case, the subways was no faster, so I began doing a mantra, and remembered the points of flow, not too fast, head off all blockages. I started a mantra to keep my mind calm as I navigated the streets as quickly as I could. I am good at this because I remember I need to keep my mind balanced for the session. What I am not good at is when the end is in sight and I lose my awareness in a scramble to get there. I got to the elevator and immediately hit the button and closed the doors on a woman and her coffee. I yelled “sorry” as the elevator ascended without her. I got to the floor of the center, checked in and went to the bathroom to resynchronize. I was just a few minutes late and the coordinator assured me that the last members of the class had just arrived. I walked into the room, sat down, and breathed out.  In front of me was sitting a woman with a coffee stained dress.

I immediately told the story to the class which served as a humorous illustration to the class and an apology to her. The mistake I made was sacrificing my awareness for speed. But my self-effacing admission allowed me to resynchronize and reset my purpose. Establishing our view is essential to allowing flow. If we don’t know where we are going, our inner energy will be in discordance with our movement. Where are we going? I recommend we have a view rather than a goal. A goal is something we narrow down upon. Fixating on the goal is not a way to honor ourselves or our journey, which is a good way to frustrate our flow. A view, on the other hand, is something we open toward. It is a vision that leads us in a forward direction, but does not imply we must achieve anything. All we need to do is step into the flow in that direction. And when the time comes to change directions, we can do that effortlessly, flowing from one stream to the next. Slow enough to maintain mindfulness and quick enough to maintain energy.

In order to maintain flow, it is not necessary to push. It’s best to employ as little effort as possible, just enough to keep flowing on course. The images used classically are the tiger, and the elephant. Tigers are relaxed and connected to the earth, but ready to move without hesitation. Tigers don’t lurch out of panic and they don’t waste energy with nervous movement. They rest until they don’t.  The elephant doesn’t speed or dawdle. The elephant moves carefully, but covers great distances.  The elephant has enough height to see clearly around them while walking with dignity and purpose.

 

SYNCHRONICITY & FLOW – 2

SYNCHRONICITY & FLOW

SETTLING INTO LIFE’S GROOVE

There is an odd juxtaposition between settling and grooving. The seemingly disparate energies of connecting to the earth and letting go into the flow can be in opposition when we are not synchronized, when we cling to one over the other. On the other hand, they might combine into an elegant balance when we are able to relax and ground and let go. Settling in and letting go into the groove allows us to re-synchronize body, spirit and mind. Our parts are gathered into a whole that flows through life.

I think we understand that meditation practice is predicated on settling down into the present moment. But the present moment is already gone once we even have the thought of settling. Everything is in motion. When we appear to be still, we are still on a moving planet. Within us our blood is flowing, our lungs are breathing, our endocrine system is always changing the way we feel. And, our mind is thinking. Despite whatever we believe about meditation, we are always thinking. A still mind is just another thought. When the mind is still, as soon as it notices stillness, it is thinking. No matter how still we sit in meditation, there are atoms moving at tremendous speed within all of that. So, it may be effective to think of settling down into meditation as settling into the flow of life.

There is an analogy in science of a kid bouncing a ball on a moving train. The ball appears to be bouncing directly up and down from the perspective of those, no doubt, becoming progressively irritated inside the train. But to anyone watching from the fields as the train goes by, the ball is moving rapidly with each bounce. Now is a bit like that, always moving even as it appears to stand in place.

I had a friend who’s teacher told him “meditation is happening now.”  The teacher paused. Then he said, “I’m sorry, I meant now.”  He looked directly at my friend and again said, “Now”.

And again, “now”.  And again, faster and louder “NOW!” The teacher continued at varying intervals for the next few minutes until my friend gave up second guessing and came into sync with his teacher’s undivinable rhythm. He was forced to remain awake and listening. He couldn’t figure it out, but he could experience its flow. Now is just a point on the moving matrix of consciousness. And any point, when closely examined, does not exist. 2 is a point between 1 and 3. 1.5 is a point between 1 and 2. And 1.25 is a point between 1 and 1.5. And so on until we slice so finely we reveal the nothing that lies below everything. Points are designations that mean different things at different times. We are now in spring.  It is now the afternoon. I am now 66. In 4 days I will be 67. At what point will that happen? Midnight of the 17th? With all respect to Eckhart Tolle, the power of now may be knowing that now doesn’t exist. At least not in the solid independent way that we assume.

From a Buddhist point of view, turning theoretical points in life into solid immutable truths is a fallacy that creates great suffering. Meditation came about largely as a way of settling us into the profusion of information in life in order to see clearly and become able to navigate that life. A sailor heads toward a point on their map, but doesn’t expect to see an arrow there drawn by Susan Kare 😉 when they get there. When we reach the point, there is no exact point, and yet there seems to be another point to navigate toward. When we say the journey is the goal, we are saying the goal is an idea. But the journey is actually happening.

Throughout history, meditation instruction has used the analogy of a river to express the flow of our consciousness. Our river of consciousness cooresponds to the stata of brain waves delineated by neuroscience. From rapid-fire anxiety states, to the slow pulse of meditative states, into the depth of the dark stillness of dreamless sleep, our mind is always moving. But, even the depth of the ocean is only temporary, giving way to the flow of another river. The idea of the analogy is to have better awareness of our experience and to accept its transitory nature. The idea isn’t to make anything solid, but to experience the flow so that we learn to navigate life.

The most rapid measurable mental states, called Gamma states, are likened to a waterfall. From the point of view of maintaining awareness, we often experience this as chaos or the confusion which comes from a profusion of thoughts. While this indicator of manic inflation is a red flag in some cases, it is common to all of us sometime. If we understand this, we can avoid being thrown off balance and submerged by the darkness beneath the turmoil. But, if we are resolved to find balance and maintain wakefulness, we are able to stay the course and connect to the flow of our breathing, which is a stabilizing agent. Breathing happens in the body, and the body acts as ballast for us to navigate turmoil and regain balance. Synchronization is very hard in a waterfall. But, if we see it through enough times, we will know that all times ultimately give way to the next time and we can have faith that if we don]t overreact, we will regain balance.

When we slow down enough to maintain awareness, we enter the hyper alert Beta state of white water rapids. This state requires a certain rigor of awareness. We often go off course when we are swept away in exhilaration of mind. Then we run the risk of having our awareness submerged. Joy is wonderful. But joy can be a red flag for maintaining balance. The work at this stage is to let go into the flow of movement and to try our best not to hold on to anything. Just keep moving through.  In this stage meditation is most clearly a body practice. The way to fully experience the rapid fire of an excited mind is through the resonance of the body. We don’t have to ground ourselves completely. We don’t have to try and coral the mind. We endeavor to let the breathing synchronize mind and body, let go of the scenery, and just flow. Returning, as we can to the breath. This is challenging, but we should remember that there is no problem here. It’s just fast. We’re not having a bad meditation just because our mind is feisty. We’re also not having an amazing meditation as we navigate the white water. It just is. And that, like all else, will change.

As we keep returning to the breath the process becomes easier. We are entering a swiftly moving stream of the Alpha state. The breath becomes like an oar keeping us on track. The point here is that life is moving along and we don’t have to do anything, but be awake and maintain our consciousness.  Images of life appear on either shore. But if we get fixated on them, we become stuck amongst the reeds and weeds in the shallows. All the while, the river is continuing on behind us as it always does and always will. The river is the continuity of our consciousness which has always been there. We can be part of it when we remember to return to the flow.

Each time we come back, the river widens and deepens. Which is to say, that each time we come back our mental waves slow until our mind becomes the deeply rolling river of the theta level meditation or light sleep state. In this stage we don’t have to paddle, steer, or even return. Our aware consciousness has enough momentum to just flow. Thoughts are more like clouds in the sky above us, that appear and change and drift, configuring and reconfiguring in their spatial dance. Occasionally, we may want to stop the process and decide if a particular cloud is a giraffe,  a snake or a dragon. But, we’ve been here before, and we know fixation will lead to imbalance, possibly turbulence and lack of awareness.  Awareness is our protection. It is our purpose. Consciousness is always there, before us, through us and after. But instances of awareness are the golden moments of an awake connection to our consciousness. These are the moments that, although ordinary and fleeting, connect us to the magic of life. Each time we are present in our meditation and our life, we give sight to the universe.

In the deepest theta state is as if our rolling river had widened and widened still, until it emptied into a large mountain lake. That lake is serene and peaceful. At alpine altitude, it is free of algae and flora, and so reflects a turquoise clarity. In this image, we are seated in the middle of the lake on a multi-colored lotus, which represents our enlightened natural state. The sun and clouds above are reflected on the surface of the lake, as though the sky had melted around us. We are fully steeled, seated and connected to the flow of stillness.

The deepest states of our available consciousness are called Delta and they relate to non-REM sleep, or the very deepest states of retreat level meditation. While it is rare to be conscious of Delta states they are always with us. They rest at the core of things, as though we’ve sunk to the bottom of the lake into absolute silence and dark. That deep sleep we actually pass through each night. That state of unconscious, dark, meditation that a few will experience consciously. Yet, this non-being is always here. It is a dark reminder that we come from the inconceivable and will end in the inconceivable. But it is from this darkness that we are able to open our eyes. And when we do, we are cleansed and life is awakened and alive.

As we go, we have the sight to open and relax into the flow of life. We are able to meet it without contention. As we continue, we grow less reliant on believing the world is for or against us. We change our allegiance from being ‘right’ to simply being. And we start to have respect for life by relaxing into our experience of it. And we develop enough respect for ourselves to trust letting go into the flow, and allow ourselves the gift of conscious awareness in life.

“Stop trying to steer”, a teacher told me. “And learn to dance.”

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT AM I DOING?

DO I EVEN KNOW IF I’M NOT HERE NOW?

As we go through life things happen that stop the mind long enough for us to be fully present. Sometimes these moments are beautiful, as in the birth of a child, or a connection with nature that stills the mind. Other times they may be painful such as the passing of a close friend, or a break up with a loved one. In these moments our defenses are stripped away long enough for us to have an authentic connection to the moment. Usually, we will go right back to over thinking, analyzing or otherwise taking selfies with the moment.

With meditation practice we are training to notice subtler and more ordinary moments that stop the mind. And perhaps more importantly, we learn to accept these authentic moments, as they are, without commentary for longer periods of time. This serves to infiltrate the wall of separation that we fabricate to keep ourselves isolated from life. You might say, we are turning the lights on to our life. If our mind is supple enough, we can see all life as alive and interactive. In time, we see ourselves as a part of everything rather than struggling to overcome anything. In popular culture, this is known as being one with everything. In Meditation traditions this is known as non-dual experience. Nondual experiences are instances of clear perception when we are directly connected to the moment as opposed to dualistic experiences when we are separated out and looking in.

The problem with cultivating nondual experience is that once we recognize it, we almost immediately begin to mentally quantify and qualify. This is akin to having a moment of connection with a love partner and then having to protect our vulnerability with a joke or a relationship plan. I like to joke that most of my love relationships were threesomes. Me, my partner and my brain. It’s ironic that our overthinking brain, rather than leading us to an understanding, actually distances us from the experience. We come by this naturally, as the conceptual layer of thinking is not there to lead us to wisdom, but to protect us from it. We will imagine a break up in a vain attempt to protect ourselves from heartbreak. Naturally, this only encourages that eventuality.

In most cases this un-investigated, compulsive thinking is like a blanket of static that surrounds us, like Charles Schultz’s Pigpen from the comic Peanuts. Pigpen was always followed by rings of dust and confusion. My first memory of becoming consciously mindful came when I read Suzuki Roshi saying that cleaning my room could be a first step towards waking up in my life. I would turn on WBAI and listen to Gary Knoll and clean my room with as calm a mind as I was able. I was undoubtedly experiencing pure moments now and then. I was one with the broom as it swept across the hardwood. I was taken by the Zen fable of the monk who while raking the monastery lawn inadvertently hit a rock. He became enlightened the moment the rock struck a tree. It seems these nondual moments of pure perception may be the gateway to a state of perpetual stabilization of our mindfulness. Unfortunately, knowing this only makes the possibility more remote as any conceptual framing only separates us from the gateway. So, we begin with sweeping the floor of our room. Just that. And returning our attention to that. Eventually, I turned off the radio, and let the music of the silence surround me. BUt what I mist remember of those mornings was the sun streaming through my glass block windows creating magic prisms on the floor. The simple act of coming back to now and clearing away the debris opened me to a greater world.

Mindfulness practice is returning to the moment again and again. Each time we return we have the opportunity to become clearer and more efficient with the process until we are simply saying now. Now. Now. This is the moment we are looking for because this is the only moment there is right now. Here. Here. Here. It’s only tedious as the mind wonders what else it might be doing. Just like the lover analyzing each stroke, we lose our connection and become desynchronized and impatient. There are remedies for this. Recognizing we are  straying or itching to stray, then lovingly returning to the life giving breath. And finally, releasing ourselves from commentary and resting in openness. In this way, we are reprogramming the mind away from needing to control life toward accepting the present moment just as it is. Whether coming back to the sweeping broom, or the rock hitting the tree mindfulness training will lead to peacefulness and a willingness to just be here with our lives.

Finally, and most alarmingly, that Pigpen cloud of random discursive thinking is not only separating us from direct connection to our life, it is also subconsciously programming us. We become used to avoidance as a strategy for protection. This only makes us more frightened. Our mind instinctively knows when it’s being fooled and coddled into complacency. Avoidance only works with superficial experience. But deep inside, where our anxiety lives, we know not paying attention leaves us vulnerable and unprotected. Avoidance only serves to make us more avoidant and more frightened as we are living in the dark. Also, as the bard said, “in this sleep of death what dreams may come? Aye, there’s the rub.” What are we telling ourselves as we sleepwalk through life? Are we supporting a toxic psychology that keeps us imprisoned in doubt and confusion? Are we randomly imagining catastrophes hence hastening their eventuality? Billie Eilish had a record called “Where Do We Go When We’re Asleep?”. It’s a very good question. What are we doing when we’re not paying attention? It is said, we are always generating something. When we are awake, we are generating further wakefulness. But, when we are asleep? What are we doing?

So, cutting through the dualistic barrier is like cracking a wall so light can penetrate, even a ray at a time. Each time we come back to the present we let a little light in. Our work then is to let that be. Not to stomp all over the light. It’s as if we draw the curtain to allow the light in, and then cover the window back up so the light doesn’t get out. That doesn’t work. But what we can do is develop two steps of recognition and return and add release to that. Just notice and let go. The grand canyon is beautiful. Notice, retun, release. My heart is broken. Notice, return, release. In this way, in time, we turn the lights on and with the light on.

WIth the lights on, we have the power to decide our intention. Which is to say, we know what we are doing.

 

 

 

__________

BLOOM

WELCOMING SPRING – I NEVER PROMISED YOU A ROSE GARDEN

After some nagging resistance, spring has finally come to the Northeastern US. And with that comes a sense of renewal and joy. We feel the freedom of stepping out of our clunky winter garb. We scurry like birds building nests to clean our homes, shop online, fill the fridge with healthy options and renew our gym memberships working toward that illusive beach body. And for moments we are aligned with all that is possible and good.

But, I beg your pardon, but there is also the dread provoked by that change. Along with the roses, there is a little rain sometimes. This post is about stepping back, creating space, and accepting the entirety of our experience. “Good, bad, happy, sad”  the poem goes. “all things vanish like the imprint of a bird in the sky.” The very things that excite my brain about spring also terrify me. The flower’s bloom is spectacular when we have the space to notice. Perception is a cosmic blessing in a singular moment. Yet, the flower is the result of the immense struggle as it made its way through the earth. Does the seed dream of the flower to be while it is busy fighting through the darkness?  And when it does finally bloom, it opens and connects to the world around it for a brief and glorious moment. And then, before long gone. Yet, in its brief tenure, its beauty is its practical connection to the world. Bees are attracted to the flower, bears, and humans use flowers in their springtime mating rituals. We are part of a connection to life. And we are blessed by the flower in the perfect moment of our noticing. And yet, we go on to immediately worry about the next thing more important than our life, and the flower will remain and eventually wilt and die behind us. What does the flower know of its coming death?  The law of Karma is not the cycle of reward and punishment that we imagine. Karma is the dynamic interplay of cause and condition within a vast and interconnected web of reality. While it is impossible to fully grasp its totality, we can nonetheless step back a bit and see things from a wider perspective. The beauty of spring also heralds the coming winter. All of life returns to darkness. Along the way, we have the opportunity to pause and see the world around us, of which, we are only a small part.

A moment of perception is divine. Its a connection to the beauty and the possibility of life. And yet, it passes and leads us back inevitably to the struggling darkness. Maybe we can pick the flowers so the moment will last? Or take pictures? Or post the pictures so everyone will share the moment with us?  We can post pictures of ourselves with the flowers to prove something to ourselves and everyone else. Yet, the moment is gone before we snap the camera.  All flowers will die alone. And yet, they are not alone in that. There is a saying that we are not unique, therefore we are never alone. The flowers will die and we will too. Like everything else. And this is what connects us to the grander cycle of our planet. This moment of renewal continues whether we are here to see it, sell it or keep it. We can try and document the moment, but picking the flowers only makes them die more quickly. Trungpa Rinpoche used the analogy of a flower in the forest to illustrate mindfulness and awareness as two foundational components of meditation. MIndfulness, he said, was seeing the flower. Awareness was seeing the space around the flower and deciding whether to pick the flower or not. When we recognize the flower, our mind pauses just enough to connect to a world beyond the circular discursive thinking behind which we generally hide. We are making contact. The flower is doing its job. Awareness is the space around the flower that allows us to see its beauty and our relationship to it. When we don’t have space for mindfulness we might trample over the flower in our haste. If we don’t develop awareness in our practice and our life, then we might trample all over our preption by trying to cling to the moment for our own aggrandizement. The flower will die. We will die. And, in both cases, the cycle will continue. So each time we notice the flower, we are glimpsing something larger, if we allow the space to see that.

Each moment of perception can connect us to the larger space. And when we are aware of that moment, we are invited to open to the space of life around us. We grow on our journey, one perception at a time until we turn our mind from clinging toward openness. Our reluctance to just let the flower be, or allow the moment to be, or each other be, or ourselves be, is because the moment will end. Sunlight will devolve into darkness. And we will again dissolve back to the eternal. This is so frightening to us. It’s important that we make something of ourselves. Maybe we can erect statues of ourselves and the flowers we have seen. But ensuing generations may be offended and tear the statues down. Maybe we can make statues out of sand, as the Tibetan monks do with their mandalas. They make these intricate and elaborate works of temporary art that are swept away at the end of the ceremony. In this way, the monks are pointing to something more eternal than ephemeral human statements. But, we are so frightened to let go. This causes great pain as it is not the way of our world. On our planet all things come and all things go. And to stand apart is to create friction with the movement of time and space. And so we suffer. We refuse to let go and we suffer.

Then we see a flower again. And we have an opportunity to be one with the planet. Not something more important and standing alone, but someone less important that is nonetheless part of everything.