Awareness 101

A Little Boy Grows Up

2009-07-25T23:07:00.004-04:00

I have someone in my life, a child, who I love dearly. He's like a nephew, not a real blood relation, but I lived in the upstairs apartment of the house he grew up in, and I am friends with his parents.

I held him in my arms when he was three days old -- a day I'll never forget. For years, this kid was my world. But now, he's growing up -- 14 years old, and obsessed with friends. He has little time for me anymore, but is always polite and loving, and his heart is golden.

I mourn the loss of our relationship as it was, when he would call me on the phone and ask me to watch TV with him or take him to get ice cream. I'm afraid I've been dwelling on this loss, too much.

But tonight, I took him for a hamburger, and then we went to see a movie. And after dropping him off, even though there was a bit of sadness in my heart for what was, I silently thanked God that we could still have a relationship -- in a different form.

I realize that this is a lesson -- that all things are impermanent and change. If I am brave and embrace the change, perhaps I can grow and who knows where that will lead. Future rewards, more lessons, wisdom?

I think this has taught me, too, to feel more compassion for people facing loss, great or small.

May all of us facing change be brave and accept it and know that all is well.

More is Never Enough

2009-03-27T09:52:00.004-04:00

The blurb below is from a teaching by Thubten Chodron, from a book called "Tara the Liberator." I find a chord of truth in it.

I often find myself thinking, "Now, if I only had more clients and projects I'd be set." Or, I may think, "if the sun would only come out, I'd feel better, I'm sure."

And then things will come to pass, as I'd hoped. Suddenly I'll get busier, but then I worry about meeting deadlines...or what will (or will not) come in the way of work once my present assignment is over. And, even on the sunniest, warmest days, I've felt unhappy.

I think the true way to happiness, or at least equanimity, is to accept all things as they are in the moment. That's not an easy task, but experience tells me that it gets easier with practice.

More is Never Enough
It's easy to think we're generous and magnanimous people when we're sitting here reading. We think, "I'm not attached. I'd be happy to share whatever I have with others. But should somebody ask us, "May I have the food in your cupboards?" We would probably respond, "No! Why should I give it to you?" Or if somebody took our shoes that we left outside the meditation hall, we would be upset. "Who took my shoes? How dare they! I want them back!"
Fear often lies beneath our excuses. We falsely believe that possessions will bring us security in cyclic existence. In fact, our attachment to them keeps us bound in a prison of dissatisfaction. We constantly crave more and better, yet are never satisfied with what we have.
–Thubten Chodron, from Tara the Liberator (Snow Lion Publications)

Read this Daily Dharma on tricycle.com

Getting Angry

2009-03-25T09:00:00.000-04:00

March 25, 2009
Tricycle's Daily Dharma
One Reason We Get Angry
The trigger for much of our anger is frustrated expectation. We sometimes invest so much of ourselves in a project that when it doesn’t turn out as it should we become irate. All ‘shoulds’ point to an expectation, a prediction for the future. We might have realized by now that the future is uncertain, unpredictable. Relying too much on an expectation for the future, a ‘should’, is asking for trouble.
–Ajahn Brahm, from Opening the Door of your Heart (Lothian Books)
Read this Daily Dharma on tricycle.com

Attachment to a Friend

2009-03-23T19:54:00.004-04:00

Being attached to something or someone feels good at times. But I've discovered that attachment is also very dangerous.

I have a friend who has just come to me with some news about an old love she's reconnecting with from afar -- by phone and mail. They will meet later in the year, and he plans to stay with her for several months.

When she told me about it, I feigned happiness for her. But inside, my gut honest reaction was one of fear. I know why. I am afraid of losing her attention and attachment to me.

Worse, I feel terrible for feeling this way. I also looked forward to seeing her on the weekends, and she'd spend time at my house at the holidays. And I have noticed that she has stopped visiting often.

The source of my anxiety is being left alone.

But maybe I'm reading too much into this. Is my fear of being left alone...of being lonely...real?

While I do feel lonely at times, it is not an eternal, or unchanging state. The Buddhist concept of emptiness says that nothing is inherently real on its own. I am not alone -- in truth. I have some good friends and a wonderful family of brothers, sisters and nieces and nephews. So my fear of loneliness is without solid substance.

So, if my conception of being alone is so frightening; then perhaps I can change my attitude about this, I can make new friends, expand my world a bit. I can build positive states of mind and situations to sustain me.

But still...we are human...and we develop attachments. I am attached to the idea of "always" having my friend around to keep me company. This is understandable, but not realistic.

Things change. Life changes. People move away and die.

Acceptance of this will help. And of course, I'll have to meditate on letting go.

Your Opinions are the Problem

2009-03-17T21:24:00.001-04:00

March 16, 2009
From Tricycle's Daily Dharma

Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.

Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring.

The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself. “It is overfull. No more will go in!”

“Like this cup,” Nan-in said, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

–From Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, compiled by Paul Reps and Nyogen Senzaki (Tuttle)

Letting Go

2009-02-04T20:29:00.004-05:00

These days, it's tough to let go.

It's hard to let go of the fear and uncertainty about the future.

As a self-employed writer, at any given moment, I'm thinking about the future of my career, if and when more freelance assignments will start coming my way. I'm thinking about whether tomorrow the phone will ring, and whether it will finally be an offer of work from one of the countless prospects I've been courting for months and months. Will the lunches, dinners, emails, phone pitches, etc., pay off?

It's particularly bad on days when I don't have much to do...or days when the bank balance has chipped way down to cover just a few mortgage payments, and payment for work that I've long completed hasn't yet arrived.

But perhaps this isn't all there is to my fear. Perhaps it's not just fear of unemployment or poverty or losing my house that is so terrifying. Perhaps it's a greater fear. Perhaps my angst is about what will be left of "me," this person who I think I am, if all these distractions, these outside influences, fall away.

Perhaps it's the fear of confronting me.

But this is where I can draw comfort from Buddhist teachings. They say that I am mistaken to believe in a "me." In fact, this collection of feelings and emotions and experiences that I've packaged into an image of "me" isn't solid. I'm not really who I think I am because all that is inside and outside of my body is ever-changing. There is no permanent substance to me or you -- and so it naturally fits that there is nothing to hold onto.

And yet my body, what I have learned through living in this world, prevents me from letting go.

But I want to. I have read many books by learned Buddhist monks and teachers who talk about the freeing aspect of meditation and contemplating the process of letting go, that is, simply being with your feelings and experiences in the present moment.

It all makes perfect sense, and I have at times actually felt glimmers of this freedom during and after meditating. This is our natural state, they say, and fear and worry and living in the past or future is a condition that we have learned from this world.

At some point, I'll have to let go -- no matter what happens. In the meantime, I'll practice. Perhaps practicing is the only thing I shouldn't let go of.

Meditation Tames the Untamed Mind

2008-03-07T11:20:00.002-05:00

This great little story is a good metaphor for taming the untamed mind -- through meditation.

What was wild before

As I left my daytime resting place on Vulture Peak,
I saw an elephant
come up on the riverbank after its bath.

A man took a hook and said to the elephant,
Give me your foot.
The elephant stretched out its foot;
the man mounted.

Seeing what was wild before
gone tame under human hands,
I went into the forest
and concentrated my mind.

- Dantika, in Susan Murcotts The First Buddhist Women
from Everyday Mind, edited by Jean Smith, a Tricycle book

Watching Winter

2008-02-16T08:44:00.005-05:00

Found this little gem about winter in New England in 1855, as observed by Henry David Thoreau. Reading it, I couldn't help think that no matter how things change, they stay the same...and vice-versa...if that makes sense.

Here in northeastern US in 2008, mid-winter is a mixed affair of sun one day, rain the next, snow another and back to sun. Oh yeah, and maybe some more rain.

Thoreau talks about gutters turning into mill brooks. We have slushy Manhattan streets, which are sometimes best navigated wearing fly-fishing boots.

I've found that the only way to get through bad weather is to watch it, observe its beginning, middle and end. Some years, it's a full-season practice. But if I watch and appreciate it for what it's worth, I might even come to enjoy it.

Thoreau's Journal: 19-Jan-1855

Yesterday it rained hard all day, washing off the little snow that was left down to the ice, the gutters being good-sized mill-brooks and the water over shoes in the middle of the road.

In the night it turned to snow, which still falls, and now covers the wet ground three or four inches deep. It is a very damp snow or sleet, perhaps mixed with rain, which the strong northwest wind plasters to that side of the trees and houses.

I never saw the blue in snow so bright as this damp, dark, stormy morning at 7 A.M., as I was coming down the railroad. I did not have to make a hole in it, but I saw it some rods off in the deep, narrow ravines of the drifts and under their edges or eaves, like the serenest blue of heaven, though the sky was, of course, wholly concealed by the driving snow-storm; suggesting that in darkest storms we may still have the hue of heaven in us.

Today's intention - November 1, 2007

2007-11-01T12:04:00.000-04:00

Today, I will be. I will simply experience what is and refrain from judgment. I will be...and observe all else fall away.

A little bit of insight...brings a little bit of calm

2007-10-29T08:53:00.003-04:00

From Tricycle Magazine's "The Daily Dharma"

October 29, 2007

Our Minds are Used to Thinking

Our minds are used to thinking, but when we want to become calm and peaceful that is exactly what we have to stop doing. It is easier said than done, because the mind will continue to do what it is used to doing. There is another reason why it finds it difficult to refrain from its habits: thinking is the only ego support we have while we are meditating, and particularly when we keep noble silence. "I think, therefore I am." Western philosophy accepts that as an absolute. Actually it is a relative truth, which all of us experience.

When we are thinking, we know that we are here; when there is no chattering in the mind, we believe we lose control. . . Our first difficulty is that although we would like to become peaceful and calm and have no thoughts, our mind does not want to obey. . . So instead of trying over and over again to become calm we can use whatever arises to gain some insight. A little bit of insight brings a little bit of calm, and a little bit of calm brings a little bit of insight.

- Ayya Khema, When the Iron Eagle Flies

from Everyday Mind, edited by Jean Smith, a Tricycle book

Being the Space Within for Our Millions of Moments

2007-10-25T09:20:00.000-04:00

Do you ever feel trapped by your mind...that you are what you think, and that there seems to be just no way to shut off the stream of non-stop repetitive, sometimes obsessive, maybe even harmful thinking? Is nighttime sleep the only way you can escape your mind?

If you feel this way, I encourage you to read "The Power of Now," as well as the companion book "Practicing the Power of Now," by Eckhart Tolle.

I read these books a few years ago, and every once in a while I find myself browsing through them to re-absorb some truths . The brightest gem is that the best way to calm the mind...train the mind...is to stop thinking about the past or the future and learn to abide in the present moment.

O.K., easier said that done. But if you read Tolle, or better yet listen to him (which I had the occasion to do -- in person -- this past weekend in New York City), it is the only rationale thing to do. And in this case, the rationale way feels good.

As Tolle says, there is no past and there is no future. These are just words that we've invented to explain the phenomenon of time. The only thing that is real and tangible is the present moment, which is always slipping away.

When we allow ourselves to be immersed in the present moment -- pleasant or unpleasant -- we truly embrace life. There is no thought to the past, and none given to the future. After all, isn't the future just our projections of our hopes and our fears?

Listening to Tolle, I thought of a truly wonderful moment in my past that I had the good fortune to be aware of as it was happening: holding a sleeping infant on my chest.

It was my nephew, and as I sat there on the couch, the house perfectly still, I listened to his short breaths and smelled his clean hair. I had a blanket around us both. My brain stopped thinking and I started feeling. I realized that this was a moment where I wasn't required to make a judgment. I didn't need to wish it was better, or that I wanted to be somewhere else.

All I needed to do was be. All I need to do was feel...to experience what was happening.

It's a great memory of a single moment that I'll always treasure. Tolle's point is that all our moments, whether we're at work or at home holding a baby, can be like this.

But it takes work. First, we must realize that we are not our thoughts or our personal histories. How can we be if these things are constantly in flux? Instead, our real true self is the great quiet, the stillness that resides in us all. It's a formless entity that is part of the universe, and which we all share. It is God for some. And we can only begin to find that through cultivation of stillness -- rather than relying on our thinking.

Meditation, especially the practice of Vipassana, is a great way to get to know our true selves. During practice we focus on the sensations and feelings of the in and out breaths. How does it make our body feel? Where does it interact with our body?

We acknowledge distracting thoughts but release our attachment to them -- in order to return 'home' to our breath. Vipassana helps me build the discipline to trust my inner wisdom rather than my busy, chattering mind.

This past weekend, Tolle offered another powerful and on-the-spot way to cultivate the present and to remain there, despite distractions, negativity, or any circumstances that may come our way during our day. Tolle suggested that we say internally: "Can you be the space that encounters this?" Can you be the space that calmly observes something purely for what it is -- without projecting our fear or judgments onto the situation?

When I first heard that expression, I envisioned creating a ring of space between me and anything that I might encounter -- let's say a negative, critical judgment that my mind manufactures about myself or another. But then I realized that that space is me already, not something that I must create.

This space is fluid and formless...but not empty. It is the highest knowledge, the sacred of the universe, the wisdom beyond what the world knows. It resides in me and in you. It resides in all of us.

Abiding in that space and witnessing our millions of moments allows us to observe without prejudice, make wise decisions, to act with kindness and compassion to ourselves and others.

But best of all, abiding in the space, the true identity inside us, allows us to be in each and every moment. It is the best gift that I can give to myself.

Why I fly my flag

2007-07-23T06:51:00.000-04:00

Flags. I see so many of them these days.

Americans like to hang their flag. For decoration, out of feelings of pride, and for some, I suspect, blind patriotism (my country -- right or wrong).

I hang my flag when I feel patriotic, but that doesn't happen much these days -- considering who we've got as president and his abuses of power and disregard for the waste of human life each day in the war in Iraq.

I hang my flag when I see our constitution working the way it was designed, chiefly, limiting the powers of government when it steps over the line of abuse. I hang it when I remember someone who fought and died in defense of human rights.

I hang it when I see a Muslim man praying in the street of a very "American" village, almost exclusively Christian, a place where people sometimes ignorantly equate Islam with terrorism. Recently, in my town, I saw a man prostrate himself in the street, facing Mecca. Perhaps he was afraid, but he did it.

It made me feel patriotic and so I hung my flag. Read the full story about what happened in my Waking Up column on United Press International.

By the way, what makes you feel patriotic about your country?

The Space Between our Fingers

2007-07-09T09:39:00.000-04:00

From Tricycle Magazine's Daily Dharma: July 7, 2007

Looking At Our Hands
Peace is a natural mind-state in every one of us. Peace has been there since the day we were born and it is going to be there until the day we die. It is our greatest gift; so why do we think we have no peace of mind?

Experiencing peace is like looking at our hands. Usually, we see only the fingers--not the spaces in between.

In a similar manner, when we look at the mind, we are aware of the active states, such as our running thoughts and the one-thousand-and-one feelings that are associated with them, but we tend to overlook the intervals of peace between them.

If one were to be unhappy or sad every minute of the twenty-four hour day, what would happen to us? I guess we would all be in the mad house! --Thynn Thynn

This Fleeting Moment

2007-06-26T07:35:00.001-04:00

A sensation appears, and liking or disliking begins.

This fleeting moment, if we are unaware of it, is repeated and intensified into craving and aversion, becoming a strong emotion that eventually overpowers the conscious mind.

We become caught up in the emotion, and all our better judgment is swept aside. The result is that we find ourselves engaged in unwholesome speech and action, harming ourselves and others. We create misery for ourselves, suffering now and in the future, because of one moment of blind reaction.

But if we are aware at the point where the process of reaction begins--that is, if we are aware of the sensation--we can choose not to allow any reaction to occur or to intensify. . . in those moments the mind is free. Perhaps at first these may be only a few moments in a meditation period, and the rest of the time the mind remains submerged in the old habit of reaction to sensations, the old round of craving, aversion, and misery.

But with repeated practice those few brief moments will become seconds, will become minutes, until finally the old habit of reaction is broken, and the mind remains continuously at peace. This is how suffering can be stopped. -- from Tricycle magazine's Daily Dharma, June 26, 2007

Ella the Master Communicator

2007-06-09T06:52:00.000-04:00

Sometimes toddlers don't talk. While other children around them are trying out new words and simple sentences, they remain silent.

Personally, I don't think that matters much to the kids who aren't talking. But it worries the adults who love them and who anxiously want to see them grow.

Ella is a two-year-old girl who has been diagnosed with Apraxia of Speech, in which the brain's "talk" command signals get garbled on their way to the muscles in the mouth, palate, and tongue.

But Ella is nonetheless eloquent in her own right. She's learning American Sign Language and is undergoing speech rehab and other forms of therapy. In the meantime, all you need is a few moments in her presence to hear her language of love...and sharing. She does it with hugs, smiles, dancing.

And a reverent bow.

To read more about Ella, check out this commentary I wrote for UPI and published by the Apraxia-Kids.org website -- for their May 2007 newsletter.

Emptiness is Really Full of Substance

2007-06-07T06:31:00.001-04:00

Emptiness is filled with good stuff.

The Buddhists are always talking about the wonder of "emptiness." This is a central tenet in their belief system -- and it means that all things in the universe -- a person, a place, an event, an idea -- are without their own, distinct identities. The substance of whatever it is -- animate or inanimate -- has been influenced and created by eons of previous causes. People, objects share common matter. Ideas, philosophies are made up of a world of shared thought -- undying through the ages.

But what implications does emptiness have for the world? What's the reward for taking this philosophy to heart?

Well, for one, if we all share the same elements physically -- and our minds are enriched by a living pool of thought that's continually finding new ways to express itself -- what's the point of dividing ourselves with distinctions and judgments. And hey, some of those identities we give ourselves and others are pretty harsh; aren't they?

Sound interesting? For more, check out my United Press International interview with the Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche, a very cool spiritual leader of the Shambhala tradition of Tibetan Buddhism. (One reason why he's cool is because he meditates while he runs.)

What to do with Words Award - April 19, 2007

2007-04-19T13:09:00.000-04:00

Fran is a good friend from my meditation circle. With her infectious smile and kind eyes, she exudes good will. And she's very sensitive.

Fran gets the "What to do with Words Award" today for an email she sent around earlier this week. Her spirit was crushed by the suffering at Va Tech, and she reached out to urge us to spread some love around -- suggesting we offer a kind smile to a stranger. It's a counter-move, a love strategy against hate.

Since she sent that message to a few of us, others in the group have passed it on to still more. I'd like to think it'll make its way around the world.

This phrase from Fran's email particularly struck me: "It is time for all of us to start showing the compassion we all have inside, to all our fellow human beings. I refuse to believe that the world is full of hate and violence."

WMD - Working Man's Dharma - 4-17-07

2007-04-17T13:58:00.000-04:00

I think that I can do a very valuable service to myself and others if, during the course of a day, I notice what arises inside me.

To notice fear arising is a tremendous accomplishment. It's significant because, to notice and name it, halts -- even for a few moments -- its hijacking of sweet reason...our naturally divine and kind nature.

I can hold fear and observe it, as it arises. I can feel it in my guts, my nerve endings. Then I don't have to be fear. It is no longer my identity. My fear becomes simply what it is -- an emotion.

And in that instant of objective viewing, I divorce it from... the argument...threat... or hostility of some person I am fearful of. And the argument, threat or hostility of some person remains simply those things, and nothing more.

How much more equipped am I then to begin making peace?

WMD - Working Man's Dharma

2007-04-16T06:44:00.000-04:00

Today, I begin sharing WMD -- working man's dharma, as in lesson or teaching.

To share a teaching, spread the word...you have to admit a few things:

- that you know some things
- what you learned you got from someone else

So let me start off doing that. I do know some things, certainly not every-thing. And I've come to know them from everybody around me -- family, teachers, friends, writers. They are people who have passed their truth and knowledge onto me.

So, I'd like to return the favor. Please consider what I have to offer.

WMD for Monday, April 16:

Today, my intention, my very hopeful intention -- is to experience all that happens to me without holding onto judgment of them. I want to simply hear what others have to say. May I see. May I feel. May I encounter life and resist attaching a label to the experience, a label that lasts, a label that can't be peeled off.

May I allow myself the pure emotional experience of liking or disliking something that I encounter -- a Dogwood tree breaking the rainy gloom with pink buds... or a uncaring remark lobbed at me by someone. May I feel the joy arise in my body when I see new life come to a tree. And may I know, too, the dejection of a hurtful remark.

But may I remember to let pleasure and pain pass on to where they belong. May I see the wisdom in letting my thoughts and desires and disappointments arise and slip back into the universe.

May I know them, and when it is time, may I let them go.

Thoreau's Journal - Listening

2007-04-07T09:40:00.000-04:00

What is Thoreau talking about in the following diary passage?

He speaks of the wind and the noise of a toad. But he also reminds us of the magic that happens when we quiet the mind to observe what rises up and falls away:

"When I stand out of the wind, under the shelter of the hill beyond Clamshell, where there is not wind enough to make a noise on my person, I hear, or think that I hear, a very faint distant ring of toads, which, though I walk and walk all the afternoon, I never come nearer to." -- Henry David Thoreau, from his journal, April 5, 1860

Tara Brach on Compassion

2007-04-04T06:52:00.000-04:00

Author Tara Brach gets the "What to do with Words Award" for April 4, 2007.

In an interview for my "Waking Up" column on United Press International, Tara talked about how tough, critical we are on ourselves and how we can replace that with compassion. It's the essence of her book, Radical Acceptance, Embracing Your Life with the Heart of a Buddha."

In our interview, Brach talked about how we cease to identify with our turmoil when we choose to stay and observe our discomfort -- rather than run from it. A new person emerges. From the article:

"The bottom line in the Buddhist teachings is that, in the moments that you stay, instead of replaying your old routines ... your whole sense of who you are shifts," notes Brach. She adds that "rather than being the fearful self or the anxious self or the self trying to get away from feeling afraid, you become the awareness that is simply being present and holding."

The sufferer becomes the space of compassion, adds Brach. To stay present and then become that presence is "the only way to wake up out of the trance of unworthiness."

The handle of my shovel

2007-03-17T09:01:00.000-04:00

When I grip
The metal handle of my shovel
to clear the snow
It burns my Fingers. Well,
It freezes them, actually. I
Don't get what it is that happens,
Really.

What to do with Words Award - March 3, 2007

2007-03-03T14:51:00.000-05:00

Today, Saturday, March 3rd, the "What to do with Words Award" goes to Rebecca L. Hurst -- for this humble and moving passage in her poem, "Moment by Moment."

Rebecca and Sean Madden are based in the U.K., and they are the authors of The Mindful Living Guide blog.

It rained,
and I watched the rain.
A squirrel raided the bird-feeder.
My daughter and I had tea
together. -- from "Moment by Moment" by Rebecca L. Hurst @ The Mindful Living Guide

What to do With Words Award - March 2, 2007

2007-03-01T19:50:00.000-05:00

Henry David Thoreau -- 19th-century abolitionist, poet, observer of nature, proponent of the moment.

He wins the "What to do With Words Award" today, March 2nd...for his diary entry for February 26, 1840. The observations for that day include a line of simple text, five words that speak of the quiet power of life transformations. They happen gradually, and so we are unaware they are taking place. I've said too much already.

His eloquent sentence:

"Corn grows in the night." - H.D.Thoreau

Henry is very generous about other people reading his diary, thanks to his publisher, Greg. Explore.

What to do With Words Award -- March 1, 2007

2007-03-01T07:34:00.000-05:00

Today, I'm kicking off a new feature -- a very irregularly chosen "What to do With Words Award" for the blog world's writing talents.

The first goes to Iain Manley, co-author of Old World Wandering. Iain and his travel partner Claire go about discovering Europe, and somehow they maintain the discipline to sit down fairly regularly and write about it.

I'm glad they do.

I am calling Old World Wandering a literary blog -- and then secondly a travel blog. That's my interpretation because if you can't travel to see, taste, live another culture, the next best is to read someone else's observations.

Below is a small item plucked from Iain's account of a visit to Rome. He's got plenty of observations about the Fountain of Trevi, the Pantheon and other popular sites...but the paragraph below offers a very quirky picture of his hostel.

If this were a clip from a movie, it'd be early 1950s. Black and white, of course. Behind the camera, Fellini would be yelling out directions to Giulietta Masina, Si?

The incessant “bella, bella, bella” of Miss Italy blared through a small, smoky hall in our hostel, Bella Roma. The competition lasted a week, today it was being contested entirely in bathing suits. Parades of lithe flesh were periodically interrupted for a demonstration of each participant’s talent: twirling a single hula-hoop, playing volleyball, badly, with a bemused judge and clumsy security guards, dancing in a lycra skirt, strapped on for modesty. -- Iain Manley

SOS: NO iPOD

2007-02-27T08:51:00.000-05:00

I lost my iPod, my buddy who helps me get through the boredom of the treadmill and the train.

My iPod has my favorite tunes -- organized by every decade I've lived through and sub-categorized in various ways that, in my warped way of thinking, would only make sense to me.

But perhaps my iPod's been the audio equivalent to rose-colored glasses. Perhaps I've been using it to filter my 24/7. Maybe I've missed observations, opportunities, friends...by being plugged in.

Lent seems like the appropriate time to go without my personal soundtrack for life -- at least for the time being. For more thoughts on this, please read my latest "Waking Up" column on UPI.

Do you have an iPod or other MP3 player? What do you like to use it for?

Tasting Bliss

2007-02-25T10:07:00.000-05:00

Found this wonderful teaching on a blog by William Harryman, and I thought that I'd share it. It's from the book Perfect Love, Imperfect Relationships -- by John Welwood.

I feel that these words speak to the heart and meaning of the Buddhist Tonglen meditation practice, which encourages us to be with our suffering, rather than run from it.

"...there is no way to avoid loss and separation from what we love. We cannot avoid coming back again and again to the experience of being alone. No one can finally get inside our skin and share our experience -- the nuances that we alone feel, the changes that we alone are going through, the death that we alone must die. Nonetheless, loss, separation, and this fundamental aloneness are important teachers, for they force us to take up residence in the only real home we have -- the naked presence of the heart, which no external loss can destroy.

"Standing in this, our true ground, is the ultimate healing balm for the ache of separation and the wound of love. "You must fall in love with the one inside your heart," says the teacher Poonja. "Then you will see that it has always been there, but that you have wanted something else. To taste bliss, forget all other tastes and taste the wine served within." The warmth and openness at our core is the most intimate beloved who is always present, and into whose arms we can let go at last."

Great Wisdom in Short Sentences

2007-02-15T09:01:00.000-05:00

The greatest medicine is the emptiness of everything.

The greatest meditation is a mind that lets go.

Perhaps it's the ice that is covering my wee house -- courtesy of a massive snow storm that flew up the East Coast over the past few days. Perhaps that is why today I feel sharper, more focused on words and their meanings. Then again, maybe it's only my love of brevity that attracts me to the economy of wisdom of the above one-liners I found on the Mindful Living blog.

They are quotes from Atisha, an 11th century monk who turned his back on a life of luxury (like the Buddha) to become a master of the teachings of Mahayana, Hinayana and Vajrayana Buddhism.

Reading up on this guy, I found it interesting that, even after great training and studying and becoming a monk, he still yearned for the fastest and most direct means of attaining perfect enlightenment. How delightfully human! Could that be the reason for his simple--yet profound--sayings?

Happy Birthday Abraham Lincoln

2007-02-12T21:08:00.001-05:00

On this day in 1809, Abraham Lincoln was born in a one-room cabin in the American wilderness.

From that humble beginning, he became U.S. president -- the highest office in the land. "Father Abraham," as African Americans of the time called him, emancipated slaves forever from this soil and kept the nation united. A tremendous legacy for one man.

Below is a quote from his famous dedication of the Gettysburg battlefield cemetery in November, 1863. Wise words that I hope will once again come true for us.

"...that this nation, under God shall have a new birth of freedom; and that the government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth." -- A. Lincoln, Gettysburg address

Being the "barrenest pasture lying fallow"

2007-02-08T08:21:00.000-05:00

Raised in America, I've been well-schooled in the "goodness" of money -- that it can make me and others happy.

But I've been lucky. Christian parents and a good education have made me aware of the dangers of swallowing this hook-line-and-sinker. Money's a tool to be used; it's not a value on which to base your life.

Today, I found this 150 year-old diary entry by Henry David Thoreau -- the conscience of America. He talks about his frustrations living as a spartan amid the materialism of the mid-nineteenth century. And, most touchingly, he considers the spiritual rewards that come from appreciating the simple, unencumbered life.

"...In the society of many men, or in the midst of what is called success, I find my life of no account, and my spirits rapidly fall. I would rather be the barrenest pasture lying fallow then cursed with the compliments of kings, than be the sulphurous and accursed desert where Babylon once stood. But when I have only a rustling oak leaf, or the faint metallic cheep of a tree sparrow, for variety in my winter walk, my life becomes continent [content?] and sweet as the kernel of a nut. I would rather hear a single shrub oak leaf at the end of a wintry glade rustle of its own accord at my approach, than receive a shipload of stars and garters from the strange kings and peoples of the earth."

2007-02-05T15:32:00.000-05:00

A Prophet Lives in New York City

New Yorkers know Wesley Autrey by a terrible decision he made recently: He pitched himself off a subway platform and into the path of a train -- to save someone who'd fallen on the tracks.

Autrey's actions make him a prophet of compassion. That's what you are when you consider others part of yourself. The "I" and "you" are a whole -- not separate.

For the full story, see my February 5th "Waking Up" column on UPI.com.

On keeping on

2007-01-27T14:08:00.000-05:00

When you think that your walk is profitless and a failure, and you can hardly persuade yourself not to return, it is on the point of being a success, for then you are in that subdued and knocking mood to which Nature never fails to open. - Henry David Thoreau

The Searchers - 2007

2007-01-26T08:41:00.000-05:00

There seem to [be] two kinds of searchers: those who seek to make their ego something other than it is, i.e. holy, happy, unselfish (as though you could make a fish unfish), and those who understand that all such attempts are just gesticulation and play-acting, that there is only one thing that can be done, which is to disidentify themselves with the ego, by realizing its unreality, and by becoming aware of their eternal identity with pure being. -- Fingers Pointing Toward the Moon by Wei Wu Wei

I saw this quote today from Wei Wu Wei (I have no clue who that is...but it's worth investigating) via a site that feeds me daily Buddhist wisdom and thoughts. I had three thoughts:

1. I am guilty of searching for that Mt. Everest experience (MEE) when I meditate. MEE is a feeling that doesn't come along very often, but it's a moment of supreme awareness, when I detect energy in and around me that is of another world. MEE is a glorious moment of resting in the now. (Come to think of it, perhaps MEE is very ordinary -- but unrecognizable for most of my 16 hours of daily consciousness.) This is my ego-seeking that Wei Wu Wei talks about in the above quote.

As a Catholic, I have had plenty of practice summoning up the bravery to confess. So, I confess that I search for a glorified ego. And I must also confess, it occurs to me that, by confessing this, am I not still searching for a glorified ego?

2. I am not always guilty of seeking star-status through attaining a MEE during meditation. Sometimes I can grasp some mindfulness to remember to accept what is -- as simply that, nothing more, nothing less. I'm happy to say that I can sometimes remember this as I sit in Vipassana, and then it is possible to simply be and allow. Attaining a fleeting moment of enlightenment is no more virtuous than moments of distraction...moments of bravely refocusing on breath...moments of listening...and of feeling. There is something very beautiful in acceptance of all that arises. Yes?

3. My third thought? "The Searchers," the 1956 western starring John Wayne. It's a masterpiece, and I highly recommend seeing it. I like it because of its glorious color, the majestic scenes of the western United States, the story line...and a little known fact that associates Buddy Holly with the movie. In the picture, John Wayne, in his tough, dry style...as if to match the searing landscape...utters this line: "That'll be The Day." In a smoky movie theater in Texas sat Buddy Holly, listening. The next year, '57, "That'll be The Day" shot to No. 1 on the charts.

The Doomsday Clock -- Help Turn it Back

2007-01-23T17:11:00.000-05:00

The folks who keep the metaphorical "Doomsday Clock" recently moved the minute hand two minutes closer to midnight -- that is, the destruction of civilization. Now we've only got five minutes left. Seems that they've added global warming to our self-destruct mechanism, along with the growing nuclear threat.

When I read about this scary development, I immediately began thinking about what I'd do if I knew we really only had five minutes left to exist. I came up with a few -- and they involve sex and booze and God.

But then I thought that I'd rather live...and it'd be better for me to take those five minutes and meditate every day.

I truly believe that if, every day, we meditate or pray or just sit still for five minutes (alright -- six, four, three, two...whatever), we could save the world.

To read how inner calmness can save the planet, and to check out what debauchery I'd engage in if a mushroom cloud was about to erupt, read my latest United Press International commentary.

Oh, and don't forget to give me your top five end-of-the-world activities!

Tick, tick, tick...

Self-love first

2007-01-16T14:39:00.000-05:00

Are you brave enough to give your compassion when you see suffering -- like Jesus did when he saved the adulterous woman from stoning...or when he healed on the Sabbath, drawing the wrath of the high priests?

Yes, it takes bravery to step out of ourselves and help others...not just ignore their plight. And I think it takes the same kind of bravery to give compassion to ourselves when we're hurting -- because it involves taking an honest look at our emotional pain...being with it.

Please read my latest United Press International column at the link below, and let me know your views.

Self-love first

And while you're reading, here's a question to think about: When do you feel the most compassionate?

Festive Photo

2006-12-23T08:55:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas all!

Here's a picture of my little New England-style house, decked out in some simple decorations to mark the Lord's coming.

There are candles in the windows and a wreath on the door -- and falling snow to surround this humble home in stillness.

What kind of decorations do you enjoy putting up for the holidays?

May you feel peace in your heart!

Pure God, adulterated God...or both?

2006-12-21T06:32:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, sitting on my high horse (an Irish expression), I reason that our definition of God is not adequate. We must be missing something far greater and unfathomable because our minds are so small and inadequate in the face of such immensity.

But what if we shed our prejudiced and partisan views of God? Tried to figure out a bigger picture. Maybe our human-faced God is so endearing to so many of us, that we would only lose our way, sever the connection.

I spotted this quote from Martin Buber on Daniel Silliman's literary site. It's worth reading to gain some insight on the terrible and precious bargain we've entered into with God.

"...Generations of men have laid the burden of their anxious lives upon this word..."

Learning Tolerance from Kids

2006-12-19T08:51:00.000-05:00

If you've ever spent time with kids, you know that the things they say and do are genuine -- unfiltered and from the heart. (OK, sometimes that's good; sometimes that can be embarrassing!)

The good part of that is, because of their naturally open minds and hearts, they're eager to learn about new ideas and traditions.

Yeah -- we adults can learn a lot from kids.

For example, earlier in December, as both Christmas and Hanukkah approached, a group of Holocaust deniers were meeting in Tehran to spout hate for Jews and Israel. At the same time that was happening, I spent time with my niece and nephew, two Catholic kids, reading a book about Hanukkah.

Their openness to and respect for this unfamiliar religious tradition filled me with hope for the future. It was a good contrast to what was happening on the other side of the world -- a victory over closed minds and hate.
Please read more in my December 18th column on United Press International. And, as always, I'd love to read your thoughts and views.

Peace, and happy holidays to all!

Have a Merry Buddhist Christmas

2006-12-11T13:16:00.000-05:00

I've got the perfect idea for an extra special Christmas card! Include Buddhist contemplations on how to grow love in our hearts -- even for, as my grandpa used to say, the "PITAs" in our lives. (PITA=pain in the ass.) Here are the contemplations in abbreviated form. To read more about them, click on the link below to my UPI.com column:

Think of everybody you meet as your mother/father/sister/brother

Ponder the kindnesses of others

Repay those kindnesses

Forgive others' "annoying" traits...instead focus on their delightful side

Be compassionate by feeling others' pain

Stay committed to practicing kindness; it'll change you.

Six Ways to Grow a Bigger Heart

Today's Pharisees -- Blocking Union with God

2006-12-06T15:53:00.000-05:00

Back in Jesus' time, Pharisees, a very learned and devoted sect in Judaism, observed their religion to the letter of the law. Good for them!

Problem was they expected everyone else to be fanatics, too, and they condemned ordinary people if they didn't measure up to certain standards. They thought they were the most insightful and correct interpreters of Moses' laws.

Jesus, on the other hand, was all about showing people how to cut through the red tape and make a deeper, more heartfelt connection with God. JC was a spirit man, not so much a law man. So, when he came up against these Pharisees, he was very critical of them, calling them hypocrites who lay down heavy burdens on believers. I think Jesus was trying to say that those burdens get in the way of true communion with God.

The Pharisees live on. Today, it seems that there are plenty of modern-day Pharisees around us -- in all religions and in every part of our suffering planet. The ones I am most familiar with are those who run the Catholic Church. They can't seem to stop telling us how innately sinful and bad we are -- and setting up barriers to fulfilling our relationship with God.

Please take a minute to read my latest column, Rethinking Gays in Heaven, at United Press International, and let me know how you feel.

Our Aggressors are a Blessing

2006-11-14T10:47:00.001-05:00

A revolutionary concept: We should thank the aggressors in our lives. If we can manage to get past our anger over their aggression and, instead, practice patience, they can do us great good.

I'd like to invite you to read my latest column on UPI.com below, and please feel free to let me know your ideas on this concept!

This piece was also picked up in Monsters and Critics.com

Outside View: Be grateful for our aggressors
By Don Munro
Nov 13, 2006, 19:00 GMT

Jesus & Buddha Want You to Fail

2006-10-16T12:42:00.000-04:00

I think they do, really!

How else would we come to a state of reflection or meditation -- where we could do some serious searching for the divine...and find peace?

Read on! Jesus & Buddha Say: Fail for me

Don Munro is a free-lance business writer who feels most at peace in the hills of New England. He explores spiritual realities and possibilities — especially the beauty of fusing together different traditions — on his blog Awareness 101. He also writes poetry at Poetry & prose from this breath of mine, often spiritually themed. His email address is Munrodh@gmail.com. © Copyright 2006 by Don Munro

Pluto's Fate - The Legacy of Labels

2006-09-10T09:49:00.000-04:00

Poor Pluto, our ex-planet, was recently re-labeled by astronomers and kicked out of the planetary hood.

The whole episode, closely followed in the press for all the residents of this planet to witness, reminded me of just how impermanent our reality is...and it brought home the truth of just how nasty and limiting labels can be.

Poor Pluto

Sin & Shoo-be-doo-be-doo songs

2006-08-22T14:29:00.000-04:00

For my family, Sundays in the 1960s centered on Roman Catholic mass.

I remember waking to the smell of bacon, the sound of "shoo-be-doo-be-doo" songs on the radio and getting to know the foreboding aura of church...incense, rituals, guilt.

Life was a cocoon. But outside the heavy church doors, outside our little home, chaos was coming.

Click on the link below. Are any of these memories familiar to you?

Memories of a Catholic Boy in The 60s

Are you klesha-conscious?

2006-08-14T10:06:00.000-04:00

From my 'Waking Up' column at United Press International:

Buddhist teaching offers a way to peace and the end of suffering. It involves first understanding and being attentive to what's going on inside ourselves, particularly our kleshas--those poisonous emotional reactions to life's dramas.

Read on!

Curb Your Kleshas

2006-08-10T10:34:00.000-04:00

Does Mel Gibson deserve forgiveness? Read here.

Renny BA's Blog Wins Coveted Web Award

2006-08-01T08:47:00.000-04:00

I am very happy to announce that Renny, my Norwegian friend, with a swell blog about the beauty and wonders of Nordic Norway, is a Blogs of Summer - 2006 winner.

This distinction comes from Bloggin Outloud. Renny placed first in one of the "Random Blog" categories.

Check out Renny's blog; you'll enjoy the pictures of his lovely country, as well as the history and folklore of the villages and regions he visits. The link is to the right in the link column.

I Don't Want to be Afraid

2006-07-25T20:56:00.000-04:00

I wonder what it will take for people to stop killing each other.

I turned on the TV the other day. There was blood coming out of it. A mother held her lifeless baby in her arms and wailed, wide-eyed with disbelief, moving her head back and forth as if looking to get someone to tell her why.

I hope that she is sleeping so she can forget about her pain for a while. But maybe it's worse to sleep, because when she wakes up, it will only take a few seconds for her to remember that her baby, herself, her life, is gone. And then the grief will overcome her again. Who knows for how long.

I think that fear is very powerful. And I think that it is the basic, stripped-down reason that people kill each other and countries go to war.

We are afraid of losing some imagined, static state of happiness or goodness -- like little children who cry when they must leave the park at dusk and go home to bed. But we are not meant to hold on to these things. They aren't real anyway.

Is a border real? It is just a line on a map and it can and does change. In my childhood, there was a border that made Germany schizophrenic. But it's gone now.

If too many Muslims mix with Jews, will their religions change? Maybe. Maybe religions are supposed to change. Maybe when they mix they will see their sameness.

What if George Bush talked to Osama bin Laden? If he called a meeting and asked him why he is afraid, what American goodness would we surrender?

I wish I could stop being afraid.

I wish we could stop being afraid.

If we weren't afraid, we would not want to kill each other.

Christians, Buddhists, Muslims, Jews etc.

2006-06-12T12:37:00.000-04:00

I was raised on this dogma-bit: Jesus is the only son of God.

So says the Roman Catholic Church.

But what if...

- Jesus was one of God's sons
- Buddha was another son of the one true God
- and so was Muhammad
- and let's not forget about Moses
- and Abraham.

Okay...so given that God doesn't carry around the prejudices we do (at least I hope he/she doesn't), it stands to reason that if there are sons of God...there must also be daughters of God. Maybe we just never think of noticing...because our culture didn't and still doesn't regard them that way? I'm talking about people like:

- Ruth
- Jeanne d'Arc
- Mother Theresa
- and every woman in history who gave up her life so that others might live...

One more point: what if the criteria for being a son or daughter of the Divine is 24/7 realization of our connectedness...and that God is present in everything and everyone in the universe? And through that realization, one is enlightened and becomes, or should I say, is reborn, as God, too.

Just asking.

Your thoughts on this?

Two Roads

2006-05-04T08:24:00.000-04:00

Jittery.

Nervous.

Nerve-endings tingle and burn...

...and there's a sense that I'm going to crack any second.

These are the times that I can allow myself to take two roads.

I can embrace these feelings and offer compassion for myself, a mental hug. I can offer myself assurance and encouragement. I can say: 'Just as the down times come...so do the brighter, more optimistic feelings.

Or, I can try and fight and deny these feelings. That's a hard battle. Victory is not won easily, and there is nothing in it that prepares me for the next time I am visited by dark feelings.

What rises falls. And may I know this simple truth today and take comfort in it.

Elvis - on Being a Fool

2006-04-27T11:24:00.000-04:00

Elvis said it best: "Now and then, there's a fool such as I."

I'd like to be a fool.

What I mean is that sometimes the best position is that of a fool -- one who has no answers. A fool might even already have the answers; he or she just hasn't articulated it -- to themselves or to the world.

May I be a fool today.

Worth Quoting

2006-04-24T21:46:00.000-04:00

Being is the great explainer.

- Henry David Thoreau

Suffering and Sustenance

2006-04-21T08:46:00.000-04:00

Today, any suffering I create for myself

is an illusion

because it lives

astride the reality that Love is present

in and around me in the universe.

It is in every cell

of every

thing,

even in my breath.

I will know it

feel and smell and taste and whispers

in the wind.

It is rich, this love,

this spring,

this ceaseless miracle,

this bubbling well of sustenance.

Can I cup my hands

and offer

a drink?

Affirming...versus...Asking for Well Being

2006-03-20T08:25:00.001-05:00

This post is a reflection on the meditative practice of Metta...the Buddhist-based practice of discovering and affirming the essential goodness of ourselves and others.

This tool is designed to help us soften our hearts to compassion for ourselves...and others.

For many, it is a particularly helpful method of dealing with difficult people, remembering that, despite the current situation, these people are basically good...and they desire to be happy -- just as we do.

The practice consists of meditating on a series of traditional phrases:

May I be safe
May I have peace of mind
May I have physical well-being
May I have ease of well-being.

Many people who practice Metta often have trouble with the words "May I."

For me, the conflict arose when my meditation teacher instructed us that, when we say these words in this practice, we should remember to affirm our right to safety, peace of mind, physical and overall ease of well-being.

We are not asking for these things. How, I asked myself, could I get my mind around the dichotomy of meditating on these affirmatively...while using words that evoke a request, as in a prayer. In fact, my struggle with this is deeper than using words that don't seem to fit the occassion.

It has a lot to do with feeling deserving of these states of being.

But that's a whole 10 sessions on the therapist's couch. Rather, I want to share here a realization that I recently had -- which I think helps me understand Metta better (that rhymes). I hope this helps others who may be struggling with affirming...asking...being aware.

This is a letter that I sent to my meditation teacher on March 19, 2006. Please forgive my irreverant humor.

Dear Carole, I had a revelation…an “A-ha!” moment last night at Mass that I’d like to share with you.

After meditating with the Host at communion, I heard the priest say: “The Lord be With You.”

Now, that’s a phrase I’ve heard by rote since I was in short pants and Jack Kennedy was sleeping with hookers in the Lincoln bedroom. This time, however, the meaning of it hit me in a powerful, new way.

I suddenly realized that ‘the Lord be With You’ is an affirmation…not a request. The Lord is with us always, and if there’s any request at all in that phrase…it’s not to the Lord…it’s an implied request for us to wake up & recognize that the Lord is with us.

It’s like Metta’s “May I be safe.” We’re not asking for it…we’re already safe, and we have the capacity to know this essential truth. We’re just reminding ourselves of that inherent safety…and perhaps more importantly, our ability to wake up and know that we’re safe.

Carole, this has reaffirmed by belief that it is beautiful to learn about all our brothers’ & sisters’ spiritual traditions.

The truths of Buddhism, Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism, Islam, any tradition that draws us closer to the Spirit…are like so many flickers of gold in the divine stream. If we do the work and pan for those glimmering bits of wisdom and insight, we become rich…enlightened.

Thanks for your priceless guidance!

2006-03-07T18:19:00.000-05:00

Christopher Reeve's Widow Dies at Age 44

Perhaps today Dana & Christopher Reeves are running together, hand-in-hand, through a celestial blue surf.

The Space Between Breaths

2006-03-05T19:06:00.000-05:00

During meditation yesterday, as I was focusing on my breath, I became aware of a message.

It was a kind of 'knowing': 'Pay attention to the space between the breaths, too.'

So I began to become aware of that space, how my lungs feel as they get ready to fill up again...the slight pang of compression that comes before I actually draw in the new air.

That space...that second in which the body takes a break from breathing...is very interesting. It is also uncomfortable.

As I practiced over and over again, I became aware that this space, this uncomfortability, is part of the process. It is to be noticed...even appreciated...along with the joyful reassurance of full, satisfied lungs.

I think that this was a good message for me to hear...and to know.

The uncomfortable parts of life are part of the process, my process. The stuff you can't figure out or that causes you pain and suffering--they are tied into the fun, peaceful times.

Sad or happy, mad or at peace...these are just states of body and mind. They don't define me.

And, if I choose to...or if I'm disciplined enough...I can recognize that...and accept the pluses and minuses together--as just experiences, simply experiences.

One by one, they will arise and fall away...but I'll still be here.

2006-03-03T07:14:00.000-05:00

Sometimes it's so hard for me to just be.

It's like I've got this war going on inside of my head, a series of debates.

It happens when something makes me sad or angry, and the internal conversation typically sounds like this: "Oh, that's not right...I shouldn't have thought that!" Or, "Don't be so judgemental of him/her."

I get so tired sometimes because I don't want to figure everything out...and yet...I feel like I have this need to do that. And then there are situations in life, encounters with friends or family--or personal issues that I deal with daily--that I haven't got any power over. But I'm still left with these feelings of helplessness or anger or judgement -- a sense that something is wrong, like a murky cloud that hugs the earth...obstructing my view.

I don't like feeling this way.

I'm throwing my hands up. I surrender.

May I have compassion for my feelings.
May I feel God's spirit telling me that it's okay.
May I just be.
May everybody, everywhere know that it's okay to just be.

Steady

2006-02-23T09:24:00.000-05:00

Steady.

I need to remind myself to be aware of each moment as it comes. I want to put my trust out there to relieve myself of the burden of suffering. I can do that by breathing, and knowing only that breath...for just that short moment. And yet, I can extend this joy by breathing and knowing...breathing and knowing...over and over again.

And I want to take refuge in Jesus. I have this image of Him and me looking across a green pasture. It is bordered on one side by a wall of old stone, dug up from the soil by generations of worriers before me, farmers. Behind us is a narrow dirt road, lined on each side by sugar maple trees - flaming in their red and orange autumn clothes. The odd birch tree that stands among them adds a mix of green.

There is a pleasant sound of leaves flickering in the slightest stir of air.

And the sun is warming, reaching deep down to my bones.

We sit there, He and I. We have our arms around each other's shoulder, like two childhood buddies who have not let adulthood shame them. And we look across the field to the mountains beyond.

Hawks criss-cross the sky, and there is the scent of fresh cut hay.

All we need to do is rest. The silence is our dialogue.

No thinking. Just being.

All is well.

This is enough for Him…

And all I ever want.

Hate

2006-02-16T17:25:00.000-05:00

I added a link about hate today.

It's a website created to remember the survivors of the Holocaust, the Nazi campaign to eliminate the Jews of Europe and Russia. They also killed Gypsies, the handicapped, homosexuals and others they deemed undesirable and unfit to breathe.

Since I first learned about the Holocaust in high school, I still can't believe that this happened in plain sight, out in the open for the world to see.

And I used to think that this kind of thing could never happen again, but, really, when you look at world history, it is a repeating cycle of one group killing another.

The culprit: the delusion that we are different...because of religion...or skin color...or nationality...or sexuality. Suffering from this delusion, we then create a superior...and an inferior.
The antidote: love, and if you can't love, awareness...that everyone is an individual - not a race or a group.

I have seen tons of holocaust pictures. I've seen movies of bulldozers moving bodies into mass graves. I've seen pictures of frightened, dazed people...torn from their beds at night...and herded into cattle rail cars for a trip to the death camps. I even visited a concentration camp, Dachau, in Germany.

And at the U.S. Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C., I saw an exhibit of thousands of shoes stripped from people, as they arrived in those camps and were methodically turned from individuals to numbers.

This stuff is never easy to look at. But at some point, maybe because of the sheer scale of the horror, the brain shuts off. To protect yourself, you become numb, steeled.

But then there's this photo -- above. It makes me shudder every time I look at it.

This woman tries to cover her child as a German SS officer aims his gun at them. There is no logic in her action. In the photo, off to the left, other rifles have just felled more victims. She can't think that her child will escape death.

No, at work here is just the pure instinct of a mother trying to protect her baby.

This picture is the best argument for love not hate.

2006-02-15T07:37:00.000-05:00

Don't want to let February pass without a small tribute to a pioneer and legend of classic Rock-n-Roll: Buddy Holly.

Buddy died in the first hours of a bone cold, snowy February 3, 1959, along with stars Ritchie Valenz ("Donna") and the Big Bopper ("Chantilly Lace") in a small plane taking off from their gig in Clear Lake, Iowa. They were headed for their next stop on the infamous Winter Dance Party tour of the American Midwest.

This photo was taken from a backstage angle that night.

I wasn't even alive when he was making hits. Still, during a 50s revival in the 70s, I 'discovered' him.

I like Holly because of his wonderful "Rock-a-Billy" sound, that unique mixture of American country music and rock. He's one of the best in that genre, right up there with folks like the Everly Brothers and Gene Vincent.

Check out the link to the right, where there are a lot of good Holly tunes. I recommend clicking on Jukebox #6 to listen to "Think it Over."http://www.dapatchy.com/oldies/

Right before his death, he was venturing more into writing and producing. Indeed, the music he recorded himself in his NY apartment, and which he left behind, showed remarkable creativity -- advanced for that time period. The Beatles, the ubergroup of the 60s, who I think represent one of the mileposts in the progression of R&R, said that they were highly influenced by the sound of Holly.

Anyway, thanks for the music, Bud. If I get to 'heaven,' you're on the list of people I want to meet. After Jesus, of course.

Snow Day

2006-02-12T11:21:00.000-05:00

Today, my world is white.  There’s close to two feet of snow on the ground now, and it’s still coming down – fast, driven sideways by the wind.

From the window, my view is obscured by drifts, but I can see that the world has shut down.

No cars in the street…only the muffled sound of children making the most of this fresh coating of imagination.  With it, they’ll make castles and forts and pretend to fight long ago battles – but with snowballs not bullets.

I’m happy, warm…inside.  My morning newspaper was delivered in the wee hours sometime. It’s buried somewhere on my front path.

Who cares? I’ll read my book, the one I got for Christmas that I’ve been meaning to pick up and start.

I’m happy that the world has stopped, if just for a day. A forced period of rest, quiet.

I wish people everywhere could have a snow day.

The 60s, Part I: Memories of an American Catholic Boy

2006-02-11T08:10:00.000-05:00

Seems the fog in my mind thickens as I log each new year, but these things I can still see:

Lots of “shoo-be-doo-be-doo” songs on the radio (no Beatles yet)

on the menu at the barber shop: crew cuts…or…an “Ivy League”

Dad’s white sox and loafers...and strong, hairy arms

Aunts biting (yes, aunts…not ants) the fat on my cheeks (they were driven by love…which I didn’t understand then…but do now)

The Hi-fi belting out The Tokens’ doowop classic “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”

Me singing along: “a whim-a-way…a whim a way”

Woolworth’s photo booth

Jack & Jackie

The milkman, who, while we all slept, left us milk (all kinds of colors, too) and juice, cookies and other goodies. Kids on the block used the metal milk boxes outside their front doors to store baseball gloves (never baseball cards or the gum that came with the cards)

A man who came with his very own floor-wax machine—sometimes he gave us rides on it while he polished our floors

A man who sharpened things for a living. He drove a truck down the neighborhood streets, gonging his bell for people to bring out their knives

Sunday morning: waking up to the smell of bacon and finding pressed outfits, shined shoes, bowties, socks -- all ready for church

Mom's white gloves & a hat with fake, blue flowers on top
Sunday afternoon: The smell of whiskey and cigarettes...the aroma that came with kissing Aunt Gert & Uncle Dennis

Some stuff happening that I wasn’t aware of:

the brink of nuclear destruction…Castro/Cuba/Kruschev…the Berlin Wall

Americans suffering indignities -- barred from sitting at a café lunch counter, voting, attending school with white kids
the Ku Klux Klan
the Boston Strangler

The 60s, P II: Memories of an American Catholic Boy

2006-02-06T17:47:00.000-05:00

Matchbox racing cars and trucks for 99 cents

45 RPMs for 45 cents

JFK shot
Sunday night: homework checked

More Sunday night: a roast beef dinner, then Disney and Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom on television, and then bed…no exceptions

That sick feeling in your stomach knowing you had to go to school the next day and you might get smacked in the head by Sister Ferocious, RSM

Desserts: Duncan Hines cakes, Jello, boxed eclairs

Earning 25 cents from Auntie Ann for vacuuming up the stairs (I still have that quarter)

S&H stamps...but also food stamps

In school, the nuns asking which one of us would abandon Christ if Communists with machine guns burst into the school room and demanded that all Christians stand up in order to be executed

RFK shot, MLK shot,

Riots, protests

Worrying that the North Vietnamese were going to bomb our town

Worrying that the Chinese laundryman was really a Communist and that he would snatch me and smuggle me back to China

Tears streaming down my face from the cold wind, as my sled plunged through the snow on 'suicide hill’

Peeing in my snow suit because my hands were frozen, and I couldn’t open the fly buttons

Watching men walk on the moon on our TV

Taking the public bus, at age nine, alone, to babysit for my Aunt who lived on downtown Main Street

Getting government cheese…and eating it

Eight-hour trips to visit Granny and Gramps in the country, along winding small roads, six kids rammed into a two-door fastback Chevy Impala, the 8-track of “Roger Williams” playing over and over again

Hung on our refrigerator door, newspaper pictures of kids from faraway lands like Bangladesh with bellies bloated from malnutrition, pictures that were supposed to make me finish my dinner

Grandma's amber-colored "medicine," which, curiously, she took in a high-ball glass, mixed with ice cubes

The statue of Virgin Mary at my childhood parish, St. Kevin's Church. On the way home from school, I stopped in to church and stared at her for one whole hour. She winked at me: a miracle. Despite my devotion, my Mom hit me with a wooden spoon when I got home because I'd been AWOL.

Prayer from an American

2006-02-02T15:16:00.000-05:00

Lord, eternal spirit, voice in my soul,
I’m not likely to slow down long enough today to take much notice…
of what’s going on…
inside of me…
or with my friends or family…
and certainly not the guy I pass on the street.

You see, I’m busy working; it’s what I like to do.
And, I’m also driving in my car…
and talking on my cell phone…
And when I get home, I need to put in some time on my computer,
and I know I’ll have my head phones on listening to music, too…
and then I’ll do some shopping,
go to the gym…
grab a bite…
and probably watch TV…before hitting the sack.

I’ve been accused of being brash, pushy...but it’s really because I want to get things done – and fast – not because I’m a bad person. So, please don’t think I’m horrible when I ask this, Lord, but here goes:

Considering how much I’ve got on my plate, would you mind speaking louder when you talk to me?

Usually, I can only hear you (and I’ve got to say, it’s not very often) very late at night, while I’m trying to sleep…or sometimes even when I am dreaming…
or when I am in church…
in short, all those times that I’m supposed to be quiet – and everybody else is, too.

But, hey, I want to keep in touch because, well, because I love you. You mean more to me than anything. I really mean that, although I'd be lying if I said I didn't like my house, and my car, too.

Basically, when the chips are down, you're the one to go to for help and comfort. I'm no dummy; this I know.

And I believe that you want me to help people everywhere, not because I'm supposed to, but because it'll help me become a better person. You want me to be as compassionate as I possibly can – because you, my creator, are compassionate.

So, Lord, if you don't crank up the volume on those whispers, I won't remember to do all that stuff.

Wait. Did you just say something to me?

- Don Munro

2005-12-10T13:25:00.000-05:00

One of the things that keeps me sane around Christmas is the image of Christ as an infant.

I sometimes fantasize about what it would be like to be a time traveler and go back for 15 minutes on the night of His birth, and sneak into the manger, besides the donkeys and lambs…just to stand by and look at him.

In the stable, with Mary & Joseph looking on, all the sacrifices, the tragedy and the pain to befall Christ as an adult…have yet to come.

For now, they are resting…they’re in transition…but enjoying the peace.

The simple joy of beholding the peace and goodness of the newborn Jesus…on that hushed night...turns into the focal point of my faith.

I won't worry about where I'm going, or what the future will bring. I will allow myself to instead rest in the peace of the moment of the manger – the air still and heavy with the Spirit of God. I'll even pick Him up and cradle Him in my arms.

I'm going to stay for as long as I like…no need to rush ahead.

Christmas Meditation

2005-11-29T23:42:00.000-05:00

The snow drops soundlessly on the hard earth...already a blanket of white.

It sounds like silence on silence.

It is so quiet, that we sit up and take notice of something else...a certain newness.

We strain to listen...but we can't hear.

Yet we can feel it. The air is heavy with it. And it can be felt in our hearts.

Something has changed. On this night, the world has become different.

A child has been born who will teach us the secret to peace: how to look into the souls of others and see ourselves.

And for that, there will be a terrible price.

But for now, the world is quiet...hushed under this buffer of white.

Let the child sleep...and enjoy these moments of peace.

Let us all sleep.

Dark Tunnel

2005-11-27T23:48:00.000-05:00

Recently, a missionary priest, from the Passionist Order, came to our parish.

He stayed for five days, and on almost every evening of the service, our church was packed solid -- standing room only.

He said that, in the 25 years he'd been visiting parishes across America and in many countries of the world, he'd never seen such a response.

I think this priest will witness larger crowds wherever he goes. At least I hope so.

There is something haunting America. We're hungry for closeness with God, with spirit - some kind of substance.
It's like we're in a dark tunnel, and we're looking for the light.

We want enrichment -- something besides a larger home or more electronic toys or a nicer car.

This war in Iraq, the slaughter each day...our rampant commercialism and consumerism...our unhappiness -- these are all behaviors of people who are asleep.

What power we would have...if only we were a force for pure kindness in the world. I hope we wake up soon and come out of ourselves. (

Boy, Everything Sure is Impermanent!

2005-11-20T10:11:00.000-05:00

Got to hand it to the Buddhists, the enlightened ones, anyway!

They know the score when it comes to awareness of the impermanence of all things.

Many learned Buddhist authors that I've read are fond of saying: "All is an illusion." And my take on this is that our perception of all things, e.g. an apple, our feelings, are constantly changing. So the realities of both the apple and feelings are never fixed.

A bit tough at first for me to get my hands around -- given I live in America, where we seem to suffer the illusion that all things, including nature, can be 'fixed' or 'made better' and that they should then stay that way.

It's a cultural thing. Please forgive us.

But the older I get, I'm becoming more aware that things just don't stay fixed. In fact, change is the only thing that seems permanent.

Funny lesson: I like to wash my windows a lot - at least once each season. Love clean windows and the special quality of light that comes into my home.

As November's chilly temperatures locked in place, I got to work cleaning the inside and outside of the windows. It was tough work, and it pretty much took me the whole day to do the entire house.

The next day dawned sunny and bright, and I had about 6 or 7 hours to enjoy streak-free light before a sudden rain storm rolled by. It was only five or so minutes, but just enough to leave water spots on the outside of the windows in the front of the house. The job was ruined.

So how did I handle this? Next day, I redid the outside of windows - but just in the front of the house.

The following day, a new lesson: Workmen from the county water authority pulled up directly in front of my house, and began digging up the street to replace a main. It was a windy day, the dust was blowing everywhere; looked like a scene from "Lawrence of Arabia."

Then, guess what? Another short interval of rain.

My satisfaction with myself, and my desire to have this permanent state of shininess and perfection was in shambles.

After a bit of consternation -- I had to finally laugh. Truly, nothing is permanent, and the weather...the rain, wind, indeed, the earth's dust...changing each and every day, is a wonderful teacher.

Can I accept this reality -- brought home to me via the window-cleaning episode?

Working on it!

Fear is death

2005-11-12T07:40:00.000-05:00

When I think about fear, it seems like a kind of death, an everyday death that we put ourselves through.

If I fall into the trance of fear, and the #1 trance for me, I know this by now, is fear over letting others in and revealing all of myself.

I've learned that that could bring rejection -- or at least I've talked myself into believing that.

So, an 'everyday death' for me means cutting myself off from others, and myself.

It feels cold and there are no options. No light.

Life, on the other hand, means letting that light in...and accepting myself (both at peace and in turmoil...regardless of how I feel at the moment). It means accepting others, too, just the way they are.

Recently, I had a revelation about fear...and death...and something that's always been a stumbling block of sorts for me.

It's like this: I have to confess, I've always had a bit of trouble understanding the whole rationale for Jesus' presence here on earth. I've been taught that he died for our sins; to open the gates of heaven.

I guess that's always been hard for me to understand. It's such a big concept, and rather fanciful at that. Maybe I need to follow a more tangible thought process.

Well, I think I've found it.

Try this one on for size:

Maybe Christ showed us how to die to ourselves -- that is, let go of our fears and let God take them on...to completely wrench our hearts from fear and open them far enough so that we can accept and trust God. His way.

Perhaps He wanted to teach us how to die to the self (our learned fears, prejuidices) and accept and trust God, the spirit, the universe -- whatever.

Death on the cross is the ultimate trust in God. Death is the ultimate fear...and he confronted that, and accepted it...and overcame it...to gain everlasting life.

And maybe, when we shed fear, we gain everlasting life. We catch a glimpse of that life with God...through compassion for ourselves and others. Our connection with the divine.

I'll have to think about this for a while.

Being a Child

2005-11-06T09:33:00.000-05:00

Went to a public talk a few weeks ago, to hear Sakyong Mipham (a noted Buddhist teacher & spiritual director) speak at the Society for Ethical Culture in NYC.

He said that someone once taught him that some old Buddhist monks seem to get younger as they advance in age.

My take on it is that their meditation practices and "right" actions (in the Buddhist sense), lead them to such a state of enlightenment and compassion for others, that they become very innocent. They are no longer ruled by their fear. They know that all things in life arise and fall away. And, they can accept all as it is -- people, pain, challenges, joy, happiness.

Actually, when you think of it, this state is more like a kind of pure wisdom, a sophistication and knowledge of the world and the mind and the way it works. And it’s an understanding that these things, the world, the mind, are merely tools for us to use…and we are not to be used by them.

I think the earth would heave a sigh of relief if we could all somehow arrive at one-tenth of that state of enlightenment...to be more accepting -- of ourselves and others.

I know that I feel relieved and free when I can accept myself, my thoughts, my desires, my failings...and fears.

But it occurred to me, as I sat and listened to this Buddhist monk, that Christ told us the same thing...and it's really one of the greatest things he said. And I love this about him...probably above all else:

One day, as he was teaching, he was asked to bless some children that the people had brought before him. His apostles tried to push them away.

But Jesus knelt down to see the faces of the little ones, and maybe he opened his arms and smiled broadly (this is purely my imagination), and he said: "Suffer the little children, for such is the kingdom of heaven."

In other words, he said: Let them come to me, and let me love them and be in their presence, and enjoy the things they say and do. They're pure of heart. They trust everybody and accept things for what they are -- not what they should be. And when they're afraid, they are worthy of compassion, the compassion of their Father. They know they are protected. And they trust the Father.

I think that, to be enlightened, is like being in the kingdom of heaven. And to be enlightened is to have this childlike acceptance of oneself and of others…and to trust in the wisdom of God.

Did Jesus Think He was a Success?

2005-10-24T20:15:00.000-04:00

I've heard people say that, in the "world's" eyes, Jesus was a failure. I guess 'world' in this sense means those who focus on money and career first, then family...spirit next...or maybe spirit never.

After all, Jesus tried to get people to come out of themselves to see the beauty of sharing life with others.

But he got too scary for the people in charge, because what he was suggesting they do would have required tremendous sacrifice. Probably the most feared thing to lose: the self.

And then there was trouble when crowds began to follow him, and people brought their sick or their children to him to be blessed. So, they tried to challenge his teachings, and when they couldn't do that, they killed him.

In the end, I think Jesus probably even had a few moments of anguish, he, too, thinking that he was a failure. Hanging there on the cross, flanked by two criminals dying the same way, maybe he thought: What was it all for? Did I imagine I was His son?

And, as his mother, standing with him, looked up and watched, perhaps she, too, had a few moments of doubt. Did she think: Is this the reward I get for bearing His son, this pain in my heart? My baby. How sweetly we sang together. How I loved his little fingers, and the sound of his laughter.

So, by all those standards...his life and death, and those few moments in which they doubted and wished for more life, I guess he seemed a failure.

But there's another standard by which the world should measure his success. And that is the measure of compassion.

This great treasure he carried in his heart, and gave it freely to all he met.

And, despite the moment or two of doubt he may have had on the cross, I think Jesus knew that he was leaving us with this wealth.

Even on the road to death, he inspired compassion.

A woman, watching him carry his cross to the place where he would die, took pity on him. Perhaps she, too, was a mother, and thought: This is someone's son.

As he stumbled and fell under the cross' weight, she came to his side, and, as he looked up at her, she took a cloth and wiped his face. It was the only comfort she could give.

Success!

What is a Catholic?

2005-10-15T20:50:00.000-04:00

Lately, I've been wondering: what does it mean to be a Catholic? Am I a Catholic?

Yes. If the definition means being baptized, receiving most of the sacraments, going to church regularly and receiving communion. Yes, if it means believing that the host is Christ present - not just a symbol. Yes, I believe.

But I must ask myself if I still belong -- based on what I'm hearing these days at Sunday mass, and from the church leadership in America and in Rome.

There are too many statements that seem, well, almost facist.

I paraphrase:

"Muslims, Jews, Buddhists may have admirable beliefs and practices...but Christianity, and specifically, Catholicism, is the way to salvation...because Christ himself said that 'the only way to the Father is through me.' "
"If you do not baptize your baby, Christ will not recognize him/her in heaven."

And there are other bad things happening. For example, we're reading in newspapers now that an edict from Rome is coming that will bar homosexual priests from taking vows to serve God.

No more men who hear the voice of Christ in their hearts and souls -- just because they are attracted, sexually and emotionally, to other men.

No more homosexual men, even those, who like their heterosexual brothers, vow celibacy.

And because there's to be no more homosexual men as priests, seminary entrants will now be asked about their feelings for other men. And, if they are honest (because we're told it's a sin to lie to a priest), they will be told they are not worthy.

I think the church is doing this to try to stop child molestation. But homosexuality is a separate issue from pedophilia. If you prefer men to women, that does not mean you prefer children to adults.

This is the latest in a long list of 'NOs' from my church.

No women as priests, too.

No touching.

No birth control.

No eating meat on Friday. Actually, you can eat meat now; somebody high-up said so.

I know what I'm not. I am not a Catholic who believes in these things, and who thinks that Christ, through divine inspiration and the Holy Spirit, is directing all this.

But I know what I am. I am a Christian, who believes that Jesus lived among us to teach us a new way. The way of love. The way of kindess and compassion...charity til it hurts...that God loves us all...no matter what.

Oh, and don't judge; leave that to God. And just accept...the moment...the situation...the person...and know that there's enough for all. All the time.

And He said we should be happy knowing that God loves us, and not to worry.

Maybe Jesus was God's son for the Jews. And maybe Mohammed was God's son for Arabs. And maybe Buddha was God's son for Asians. And on and on -- for every culture and every group, I suspect there was someone divinely enlightened...and with a very special relationship to God.

So, maybe God has all these sons (and I bet there's some women in there too that we never heard about). And He sent them all to live among us -- during different eras and among different cultures -- to spread the word that there is more to us than just eating, and copulating and dying.

Throughout history, His sons and daughters are constantly making introductions: People, this is God. He loves you. He wants you to get to know Him.

Just a theory.

So maybe we, no matter what religion we profess, shouldn't be so all fired up about the supremacy of our own particular brand of faith. Because, in the end, we don't know what's on God's mind...or how He operates. Do we?

Another theory: maybe Jesus was a homosexual.

Do we know? No. Would it matter? Not to me.

So maybe we shouldn't be so quick to deny the gifts of others -- based on whether they're attracted to a square jaw and big shoulders...or soft lips and a full bust.

You know, Jesus had a special message for religious leaders of His day, the Pharisees, who conditioned God's love, and made the people suffer under the weight of obligations and restrictions. Something like this:

And woe to any one of you who leads these innocent ones astray. It would be better for you to tie a millstone around your neck, and cast yourself into the sea.

Everything the man said two-thousand odd years ago packs the same punch today.

And, just like then, we're still not listening.

A thought about resistance

2005-10-09T09:43:00.000-04:00

Recently, I had a thought about resistance -- to what is.

Resistance has its rewards - as when you're lifting weights. It builds strength. And certainly, in the face of evil or wrongdoing, resistance often helps bring about change and the overcoming of that evil. I'm think of Jesus and Gandhi and Martin Luther King and and their tradition of non-violent resistance.

But I think that, emotionally, resistance is the cause of much pain. My friend and I were speaking about this recently, and it struck us that our suffering is often colored by resistance and a fixed notion of what ought to be.

Let's say you're gardening, and you've spent most of the morning in beautiful sunshine. Suddenly, in the middle of your work, it begins to thunder and a hard rain starts to fall -- no mere shower, but the kind of weather you need to take cover from.

So how do we react to the storm?

My habitual thought process goes something like this:

I have two whole flats of flowers that I still need to plant, and, even if this rain stops in 10-15 minutes, I will be late for lunch that I've planned with friends -- and, suddenly, all that I had planned to accomplish for the rest of the day must now be postponed for another time.

The rain is plainly an inconvenience. I become angry and frustrated.

But what if I were to accept the rain...simply take it for what it is? And I'm not talking about even arriving at the higher state of acceptance & thanks for the drink of water it brings to the earth...but just pure acceptance with no judgement.

Further, what if I am able to change my notion of what ought to be, in this case, that I should be able to accomplish all my tasks in the alloted time I had initially given myself? False deadlines; naive scheduling.

What if I am able, then, to create another reality for myself? It may be as simple as this:

The rain has begun; it seems time for me to put the rest of the plantings off.

No judgement about the rain. No assumption that the rain should only come after I have completely finished putting the impatience (ironic?) in the soil.

I can first have sympathy for my disappointment...and even feel a sense of pity for this reaction that has welled up in me. But I think that I can try to gently say goodbye to this resistance and drop my notion of what ought to be. Chances are it will not rain forever; the sun will shine again.

This is the recipe for happiness in gardening...and in life, I believe.

Uncertainty

2005-05-22T12:06:00.000-04:00

May all those suffering from fear...fear of what may happen...what is happening...what is uncertain in their moment or life situation....

may they know and take comfort in the awareness that certainty is an illusion.

If certainty is an illusion...and all my efforts to be certain...to attain a state of knowing which way something will turn out...or to be guaranteed that what I feel or discover will always be to my liking...if all those things are illusions,

then may I know that it is fruitless to seek certainty...

and may I rest and take comfort in uncertainty...

ever-changing moments.

Some Kind of Heaven

2005-05-16T23:45:00.000-04:00

Generosity. What a great word.

It's like compassion with a smile on its face. When we're generous, it's really a very upbeat statement of faith...because there's no worry about insufficiency. There's an understanding that there's enough for all -- and then some.

I think being generous is what we do when we feel blessed and our cup runs over. When it happens naturally...and it is not forced out of some kind of sense of obligation...we may be unaware of how significant the act is...but that's when it's most powerful.

Here's a story of generosity I'd like to share.

Sixty years ago...WW II ended...and the concentration camps of Europe were liberated by the Russians and the English and the Americans.

Tom Lantos was imprisoned in one of those camps, a slave labor camp in Hungary. Tom was a Jew. He was there merely because of the way he worshipped God.

He was 16 when he was placed there, and somehow he managed to survive...skin and bones...hanging onto life...existing on death rations...waiting for deliverance.

After the war, he was awarded a scholarship to a college in Seattle in the U.S.

In a recent television documentary featuring stories of survivors, Tom described one of the defining moments when he knew that he'd left the Holocaust behind. Something like this:

When he arrived at school in Seattle, and it was time to eat, he got on line at the cafeteria, and was handed a tray. Then, the boy who lived on tears and hunger in the slave labor camp, shuffled down the chow line, as cafeteria workers piled great mounds of food on his plate...potatoes, meat, vegetables.

At the end of the line were two great baskets, one filled with oranges, the other with bananas. He remembered his upbringing and imagined that his mother might guide him to take one piece of fruit -- either the banana or the orange.

Unsure what to do, he asked a worker standing by the baskets: "Sir, shall I take a banana or an orange?"

And then the American cafeteria guy replied, "Man you can take all the bananas and all the oranges you want!"

Tom thought to himself..."I knew then that I was in some kind of heaven."

That Tom is today Tom Lantos, venerable California Congressman.

May I be generous, and happy being generous! May you be generous, and may it fill you with happiness.

'Peggy-Sue' and Introspection

2004-11-10T08:13:00.000-05:00

Here's something that struck me:

I thought that a seeming contradiction exists between the music I like and my quest for inner silence!

I enjoy lots of different types of music. But my first love is the rock-a-billy sound, early rock, like the Everly Brothers, Buddy Holly, Johnny Burnette. I guess its appeal is its primal beat...that special mix of country and R&B.

I mean, can you possibly resist that combination? Whenever I hear that unique formula--and it's a recipe that I think has made American music universally loved--I've just got to dance, even if it's a chair jig. Oh, I said 'jig'...maybe there's some Celtic "love of music" gene that was switched on at birth. Ha ha.

But it's curious how I could be so emotionally introspective, and yet get such an involuntary jump-start, from way down deep. How do the two jibe?

Maybe I like this kind of music because it doesn't require me to think. Rather, my real self reacts, the part of me that doesn't question what I enjoy or am attracted to. I make no judgements. When I can make space for being...not thinking...joy happens.

And, I think that my response to music is intimately connected with the quest for self knowledge and introspection. When you make room for stillness and being, rather than thinking and analysis, you flourish.

When I can respond to the Now...the present moment...my inner peace grows and strengthens.

The Not so Great State

2004-10-30T16:28:00.000-04:00

The not-so-comfortable is good.

It's that place I find myself in a good part of the time -- not extremely happy...not extremely depressed...just so so.

Maybe I'm a little restless, a little groundless.

This is a good place, because if I can stay in this state in comfort, without seeking to escape, I can learn to be more at ease with myself. I don't have to escape these feelings. They're just as much a part of my human existence as is being happy.

And if I can be more at ease with myself, I can be more compassionate with others.

Comfort and Danger

2004-10-11T21:03:00.000-04:00

My grandmother will be 96 years on Thursday, and tonight we had a small party for her.

My brothers and sister who live nearby came. And their children were there, too.

We sang 'Happy Birthday' by candelight, and I watched as she looked at all the faces surrounding the table.

I had the distinct sense she was taking it all in to store somewhere. Perhaps she was taking a mental picture. And I knew that perhaps my brothers and sisters were doing the same...storing up a memory for when she is gone.

But I have another memory of Granny that I often think about.

I had to be about five, maybe six years old. I was asleep one night in Vermont, and she came in the room to get in her bed. I woke up and watched her get ready. Then she climbed in to sleep.

Just then a storm rose up, and thunder shook the room with great loud claps. And the quick flashes of lightning made it seem that danger was coming and something terrible would soon happen.

I got out of bed and asked if I could sleep with her, and, as she let me in, she asked what was the matter. She calmed me, saying that storms were nothing to fear. She said that we were safe, inside and warm.

Then she drew me up on the bed, and we knelt looking out the window above it, up into the sky, watching eagerly for the next strikes.

I think we watched the darkness above a nearby hill for a little while, looking for lightning strikes and then listening for the thunder. It was good to watch the danger, to feel it from a safe place.

Pain Brings Wisdom

2004-10-05T21:26:00.000-04:00

"In our sleep, pain which cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus

Compassion Heals

2004-09-27T20:02:00.000-04:00

I'm reading a book now by Pema Chodron called "The Places That Scare You."

My meditation teacher turned me on to it. When she first told our meditation group about it, I thought: "Yipes, even the title is scary. Do I really want to read that?"

Anyway, it's really all about embracing the hurt, the fear, the depression or anxiety from which we tend to run. Chodron's not saying we should revel in feeling depressed or anxious, but rather to accept it as part of our human experience, just as we accept happiness, joy, peace. Her point is that when you learn to accept and be with these emotions or difficulties...they become less immense, less daunting to our experience.

Early on in her book she talks about a Buddhist concept called bodhichitta, which is defined as our innate ability to recognize pain in others and feel compassion. Bodhichitta wells up from within. It is God within, if you will, and it enables the hardest of hearts to connect--on at least some level--with others.

I recognize this. I feel bodhichitta especially when I see other people doing divine things, some little charity -- like the time we were at a barbecue in a park, and I saw my mother pile on a plate of food for a homeless man. I feel it, too, when I'm around children and I'm just surrounded by their innocence.

I also thought of something I recently saw that touched my heart deeply and brought out a whole room full of bodhichitta. I was spending the weekend away in the country with a friend and her two children. The youngest is a four-year-old girl -- a precious angel and very affectionate and sensitive.

One night, we were playing a board game on my porch. Outside, it was thundering, and the house actually shook with each strike. It was pretty wild out, and I had two old oil lamps lit because I knew it was just a matter of time that the power would fail.

We took a break from the game to peer out the window at the bursts of lightning that stretched across the black sky. Each time a long finger of lightning struck it would momentarily reveal the shape of the far off mountain tops and valleys below. We were awe-filled.

Suddenly, out of the blue, the little girl put her hand on the chimney of the lamp. It was of course very hot, but not being used to the workings of such antiques, she was unaware that it would be hot.

What happened next made me want to cry -- the humanity of it. She recoiled from the touch, and yelled "owwww." Then she stretched out her two arms and said, as if to hold us back from rushing to her side, "I'm okay...don't worry!" But no sooner did she get out the last syllable of that short sentence when she buried her head in the chair and sobbed.

We all jumped from our seats to comfort her, and we carried her in the house and ran her hand under cold water and put ice on it. She was indeed fine, and she didn't need medical attention. Nor did the burn cause blisters.

I think what brought out my bodhichitta, aside from feeling compassion for her pain, was her attempt at placating us initially. Perhaps she was afraid she'd be scolded for touching something she wasn't supposed to. Or, perhaps she just didn't want us to worry about her or make a big fuss. Maybe she was embarrased. But, as the pain became too great for her to hide, she acknowledged it and cried out for her mother.

The range of emotion she displayed in three seconds brought me to tears.

And if I can have bodhichitta for this little girl, can I have it for myself?

Loving is Remembrance

2004-09-18T10:31:00.000-04:00

What do we remember about who we are? Once, in God's mind and heart and breath...even in his sweat...we were God, too.

Now...today... we are little bits of God spread out over the universe...living in shells that breathe, eat and think.

I believe that when we love, we are actually remembering. Compassion is what we learned then...and what comes leaking through now.

Look, have you ever had the experience of judging someone who you think has done something bad, perhaps something that is totally repulsive to you...to your morality? You are convinced of the way you feel about this...and there is no budging. You are right.

Then, by some accident (or perhaps it's not an accident), you learn another little bit of information about the person; maybe it's a story about some suffering they themselves endured...maybe as a child.

Something unexpected happens; something surprising. Suddenly you feel compassion for them. You make room in your heart for sorrow for the perpetrator, as well as for the victim.

Aren't you shocked by what wells up inside you -- this remembrance of compassion? I know I am sometimes. And doesn't that complicate your thinking.

Maybe this sudden appearance of compassion...of love...is a remembrance of when we were in union with the Creator.

And the remembrance is a reminder that we are still part of him and he of us.

Unconditional love

2004-09-14T07:47:00.000-04:00

When I try to remember who I am...who I was...part of the Creator...in Eden...in the universe...filled with His divinity...and no thinking...just being,
I wonder what the love was like.
Then I think of how I held sleeping baby Robert in my arms...his little body held close to my chest...face at rest...fistful of heart beating...causing my ribs to tingle...
His breathing was deep behind still eyes and closed, heavy lids...safe...trusting. I remember the wave of love I felt...rushing past and over...completeness.
God's love. But just a little.

A Warrior

2004-09-09T18:43:00.000-04:00

Today, I made up my mind to be brave -- to be a warrior.

What happened was this: I heard a story about a relative who made an anti-semetic comment. She's a cousin. And I heard that when she was told that one of her acquaintances--who is Jewish--had a baby, my cousin asked: "What did they name her?"

Sarah-Jane was the baby's name.

"Not bad for a Jew," said my cousin.

At that moment, when I heard that comment, I decided to become a warrior against stupidity. Maybe 'stupidity' is the wrong word. It's 'ignorance' I want to stand up to, really.

I have suffered through too many jokes or negative comments about blacks, gays, jews, polish, irish. It's been going on too long for my personal comfort -- beginning with dumb stuff I heard as a child.
And I know a little bit about that hurt. When I was a kid, I was mercilessly teased because I had a soft, tender voice. Take your pick...they called me everything: fag, sissy, girl, queer. It hurt...deep.
Now, when I hear a kid speak like that, my heart breaks because I know what their school day is like.
As an adult, while this kind of garbage may not be coming out of my mouth, I am complicit every time I silently smile or change the subject quickly without addressing what was said.

Why can't I say, "Boy, is that an ignorant comment!" Or, how about: "How would you feel if someone said something like that about you?"

I can't because I'm afraid. Afraid I'll be rejected, left out, criticized. That's the plain, awful truth.

But you know what, is it such a risk being rejected by people like that?

But do I really want to play Big Brother (ala 1984, not the TV show) and be in charge of monitoring others? No.
But if I do this right I won't have to worry about other people. Rather, I want to decide how I want to live my life. Do I want to hang around people who say negative, stereotypical...and damn it, hurtful, things about others? No.

And while I'm busy making those important decisions, hopefully I'll get better at being aware of the content of my own thinking.
I'm no angel. Maybe I'm not verbal, but I sure can be cereberally ignorant. Every time I make a judgement about somebody before I've sat down with them and listened to what they have to say, I'm guilty, too.

So much to work on

2004-09-06T14:21:00.000-04:00

"Judge and ye shall be judged"...

"Who am I to judge"...

"Grant that I may not judge another man until I have walked a mile in his moccasins"...

Judgement -- of something or someone. Sometimes it's necessary...but I think that usually it isn't.

Even though I've been taught the above platitudes since I was in short pants and buster browns, I've grown into adulthood with the bad habit of judging something as I'm experiencing it -- or worse, even before I experience it. I think that ultimately it restricts me...keeps me from experiencing life...people...situations.

Maybe judgement stems from fear...maybe from a sense of deficiency in myself rather than a perception of something negative I see in others. So, the problem is in me, not outside me.

I don't know if I'll ever figure out why I do this.

But what I'd like to try and do is keep from judging as much as possible -- to experience things...simply to live them. No perception. Maybe it's like the mediative technique of being present with your breath. The focus is on feeling the breath in whatever state it is in...not manipulating it or expecting something of it.

Imagine a day from the time I rise til the hour I sleep again -- with no judgement.

I've read that this will help me be more at peace and more in the present. I hope so.

Could this be what Jesus was practicing when he sat down with tax collectors and theives and prostitutes -- to the dismay of many of the religious authorities of the time?

Who we really are

2004-09-04T18:09:00.000-04:00

Did you ever sense that there was more to you than just your concept of who you are, the sum total of your likes, dislikes, opinions, judgements, feelings and moods -- all the things we know and learn about ourselves. It's who we think we are, no?

If you want, you can refer to this as the "me."

I believe that there's more...there's the "I," and it's a deep presence within us that doesn't think -- but knows. It's been there always, and--long after we die in our flesh and blood shells--it'll live on in the universe.

I believe it's God, although my definition of God is changing. I used to perceive God in human form, and, while I still find myself using terms like "Him" when I talk about God, more and more I have trouble picturing a human form in my head. Now I sense God...I feel God...and I think of God as an etheral spirit-eternal residing temporarily in my body.

God is always present...and he (there I go again) is limited only in my capacity to experience God in each and every moment.

Here's a quote from Eckhart Tolle's Stillness Speaks, from a chapter on "Who You Truly Are." I think it perfectly encapsulates this concept...and explains the difference between "me" and "I":

"...The truth is: you don't have a life, you are life. The one life...the one consciousness that pervades the entire universe and takes temporary form to experience itself as a stone or a blade of grass, as an animal, a person, a star or a galaxy."

And later in the chapter, speaking of things we see, like a tree, and being aware of the tree as a result of seeing it, Tolle relates something that's really extraordinary:

"...The truth is you are not somebody who is aware of the tree, the thought, feeling or experience. You are the awareness or consciousness in and by which those things appear.

"As you go about your life, can you be aware of yourself as the awareness in which the entire content of your life unfolds?"

The Breath

2004-09-03T22:27:00.000-04:00

When I practice meditation, I've always had some degree of difficulty with my breathing. It varies. Sometimes I find myself trying to change my breathing...make it fuller, shallower, whatever. Sometimes it's not such a concern.

However, recently I read something extraordinary that helped me free myself of the notion that I need to do something with my breathing.

In "Stillness Speaks," in a chapter on the power of nature to bring us beyond ourselves, Eckhart Tolle writes:

"The air that you breathe is nature, as is the breathing process itself.

"Bring your attention to your breathing and realize that you are not doing it. It is the breath of nature. If you had to remember to breathe, you would soon die, and if you tried to stop breathing, nature would prevail."

As a living, breathing human being, this is something that I knew physiologically. However, intellectually, it is a new concept to understand that I don't have to worry about controlling or modifying my breathing during meditation.

As long as I can know that it is something that my body will handle, I can be free to focus on what it feels like to breathe -- not the act of breathing. Wow!

With this in mind, I began meditating...and sure enough, I found it easier to focus on the feeling...the experience... of breathing...how my body rises and falls...how my nose and lungs feel.

Almost immediately, I began to feel a much greater depth of spaciousness. Profound!

Alas, as if to underscore that I need to keep working on this, the spaciousness was almost too great. I became aware of my fear of that depth. And it was over.

I'll come back to it.