Sunday, May 8, 2011

Grandma

Thanks to Nate DeMontigny over at Precious Metal and the 2K11 Article Swap he organized, I'm honoured to host a guest post by TMC who writes a charming blog at Return to Rural, a place I happily frequent.



My life is filled with remarkable women. They’re remarkable in all the ways you’d expect: kind, loving, supportive, determined, concerned. They’re each unique unto themselves, and I feel their love and support in different ways. Their example makes me want to be a better woman myself.

If I had to pick one to model my life on, it’d be my grandmother, my mother’s mother, Georgia Hougaard Davis. She’s 98 now and I’m staying with her and my grandfather, helping around the house and just making sure everyone is safe. It’s been a pleasure and a privilege to spend so much time with my grandmother. She is a classic woman: a dutiful wife, a mother of 5. She’s a modern woman: she graduated college, encouraged by her father, and taught home economics for many years.

Her nature is one of softness and grace, even with all the hooks and snags of old age. Her character is enviable, so sweet and caring, always wondering if people need something to eat or if the beds have enough bedding to keep us comfortable. Ever the lady, she gets up every morning to wash and dress, being sure to include a modest camisole regardless of what type of blouse she’s wearing. It’s simply something that a lady does, she once told me, in not so many words. Grandma’s humor is sharp and witty, playful almost. She makes jokes about her situation, her age (she doesn’t like to be reminded of her age but we all think 98 is pretty amazing), and pokes fun at grandpa.

She’s so amiable as we push and pull her through her day: sit here, grandma; come here, grandma; time to go to bed, grandma. But she doesn’t make any complaints. I hope she knows that we do what we do in her best interest, to keep her moving, to keep a sense of normalcy in her life, a sense of comfort.

Her short term memory is spotty these days. I know she doesn’t remember my name, and I wonder sometimes if she knows I’m her first grandchild. Even if she doesn’t know, her hospitality is unmatched – make yourself at home, what can we get you – without any sense of concern on her part.

My grandmother is a woman among women who’s had the same ups and downs that we all have. But you’d never know that she’d worried a day in her life, such is her cheerful demeanor. Everyone should be so lucky to have this kind of woman in their life. Any of us would be lucky to live up to even half of the invisible bar she’s set. And because of who grandma is, she’d tell any one of us that we can do anything, be anything, go anywhere.

Let us all heed her example and know ourselves well. Let’s not be swayed or feel powerless when we’re overwhelmed. Let us each be grandma’s kind of person for each other.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Some Poems

Puddin' enjoying the absence of the Dogs



Rather than blog about the sadness I feel about the outbreak of festivities at the killing of Osama Bin Laden, I thought I would post a few poems instead.


~   ~   ~


As I contemplate
The cherry tree
Another blossom falls


~   ~   ~


Yellow cedar mill
The scent awakens
My father's workshop


~   ~   ~


Crane fly
Died in the hot shower
I forgot to check


~   ~   ~


Wasting time
Regretting
Wasted time


~   ~   ~


Through the window
The valley
Gazes back


~   ~   ~


1.  Mind
2.  No Mind
3.


~   ~   ~


Why are my dogs
Always
Happy to see me?


~   ~   ~

You can find other poems at Some More PoemsAnother Batch of Poems and Poems Batch 4.


Just a reminder about the upcoming blogging on May 8.  Nate DeMontigny over at Precious Metal has organized Article Swap 2K11 and paired up volunteers to write guest blog posts.  TMC from Return to Rural will be posting here, and I'll be writing a post for Danny Fisher's blog at Rev. Danny Fisher.


Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Stage Fright


My cowardice is in vain
There is nowhere
To hide

Lately, I’ve been noticing the interplay of three characters on my mental stage.

Actor number one is my intellect, recently mused about in Mental Fractals.

Having avoided taking psychology at university (it wasn’t “real” science), I’m not hampered by knowing what to call the other two.  Looking them up in Wikipedia would spoil the fun.

The intellect lives in the brain and generally talks too much.  The other two can be hard to tell apart, as they both live in the viscera, emanating uneasy gut feelings.

One of them warns me that I'm about to do something that is likely to hurt me or someone else, as when my hand is about to pocket the change the cashier accidentally gave me too much of.

The other one tells me I don’t want to do something, like approaching a vaguely familiar stranger and asking if we used to be acquainted.

The same unease accompanies leaving a comfort zone, thinking outside the box, taking a risk, being vulnerable, going out on a limb, breaking a habit, facing an addiction, relinquishing a crutch, defying a superstition, embracing the unknown.

I got to study these two up close when I wrote When I Fell.  I felt a strong urge to write it, but I sure didn't want to.

The first gut feeling seems to be an impulse to act compassionately, follow the precepts, be skillful, “do the right thing”.  The other one is, well, fear.  To make things interesting, the intellect chimes in and explains why the first one should be ignored and the second one followed.

I don’t have much to say about the first - it seems to give pretty straightforward signals.  The real problem is when the second one masquerades as the first or drowns it out.  If I'm about to cross a high and very unsafe platform, both 'instincts' will urge me not to do it, but only the second one will urge me to stay back no matter how safe the platform is.  Going ahead despite our fear is called courage.  We have other words for going ahead against our better judgment.

A little healthy fear can be an antidote for complacency.  They say if you ever stop getting a few butterflies in your stomach before giving a speech or performing, watch out – mistakes are sure to follow.

Intuition or inhibition?  Probably by paying attention to the sensations as they occur, I’ll get to know them better and be a little braver.

To paraphrase a native story, there are two dogs inside me that fight: one leads me forward, the other holds me back.  Which one wins?  The one I feed.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Note from 2011]:

Here's a plug for some upcoming blogging on May 1 [Note - this has been changed to May 8].  Nate DeMontigny over at Precious Metal has organized Article Swap 2K11 and paired up volunteers to write guest blog posts.  TMC from Return to Rural will be posting here, and I'll be writing a post for Danny Fisher's blog at Rev. Danny Fisher. Cause for a few butterflies...

Monday, April 18, 2011

In Good Company

Do you know what all of these folks have in common?

Albert Einstein●Albert Schweitzer●Alexander Pope●Anne Hathaway●Anthony the Great●Apollonius of Tyana●Ashoka the Great●Basil of Caesarea●Brigitte Bardot●Carl Lewis●Casey Affleck●Cesar Chavez●Chelsea Clinton●Christian Bale●Clement of Alexandria●Cloris Leachman●Confucius●Daryl Hannah●David Ashton<:)Dennis Weaver●Dick Gregory●Ellen DeGeneres●Emanuel Swedenborg●Empedocles●Flavius Claudius Julianus●Forest Whitaker●Franz Kafka●Fred Rogers●Gaius Musonius Rufus●Gautama Buddha●George Bernard Shaw●George Harrison●Grace Slick●Gustav Holst●Gustav Mahler●Hayley Mills●Hesiod●Isadora Duncan●Jane Goodall●Jeff Beck●Jiddu Krishnamurti●Jim Carrey●Joaquin Phoenix●John Coltrane●John Harvey Kellogg●John Peel●John Wesley●Johnny Appleseed●Julie Christie●k.d. lang●Kabīr●Kate Winslet●Killer Kowalski●Leo Tolstoy●Leonardo Da Vinci●Lewis Gompertz●Lilli Lehmann●Linda McCartney●Lord Byron●M.K.Gandhi●Malcolm Muggeridge●Martina Navratilova●Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley●Moby●Nikola Tesla●Ovid●Pamela Anderson●Paris Hilton●Percy Bysshe Shelley●Percy Grainger●Philip Glass●Plato●Plotinus●Plutarch●Porphyry●Pythagoras of Samos●Quintus Sextius●Rabindranath Tagore●Richard Gere●Richard Wagner●Ringo Starr●Saint Angela de Merici●Saint Catherine of Siena●Saint Francis of Paola●Saint Hilarion●Saint John Chrysostom●Saint Richard of Chichester●Shania Twain●Sir Edwin Arnold●Sir Paul McCartney●Sir Richard Phillips●Sir Stafford Cripps●Sotion●Spike Milligan●Stella McCartney●Stuart Murdoch●Surya Bonaly●Swami Satchidananda●Swami Vivekananda●Tertullian●Theophrastus●Thomas Ignatius●Thomas Pitfield●Tobey Maguire●Weird Al Yankovic ●Wil Wheaton●Yehudi Menuhin●

All vegetarians.

No deep message here.  As being a veggie can sometimes be a lonely undertaking, I thought I would list a few to keep you company.  My favourite is Mister Rogers.


Wednesday, April 13, 2011

When I Fell

When I fell
You stopped
To help me up

Somewhere in far-off Australia, a bookbird is happily chirping.

A couple of days ago, I got a very sweet tweet from @CaptnSpaceCadet, who has a very nice blog over at bookbird  which continually touches me with its honesty and sincerity.  The tweet said some very very nice things about my blog.  Before I had even finished blushing, a follow up tweet arrived, inviting me to do a blog swap, where we would each pick a topic for the other to write in the next 5 days.  I gallantly agreed, and slyly suggested her topic: “Why am I doing this?”  The twinge of guilt I was beginning to feel evaporated when BB shot back with a topic for me: “Why did I do that?”  I was trapped.  BB did a beautiful job, as usual, with Bookbird vs the Donut, and with 4 days to spare.

So now I have to step out of my comfort zone.

Back in 2002 (when BB was still a fledgling), I was going through a low point in my career.  Four years previously, I had quit drinking because I was doing it too much.  Now, without anaesthetic, I was responding to stressful encounters by hiding from them, leaving telephone messages unanswered and letters unopened.  To make a long story short, I learned the meaning of burnout.

A colleague with some personal experience suggested I try Alcoholics Anonymous, which I did, for 181 meetings.  The fit didn't seem quite right, but it was a port in a storm, and I worked hard at it.  By now I had let my Zen practice slip, although I did continue to recite the bodhisattva vows every day.  At the AA meetings, we took turns telling our stories.  I can say that after a while, I got really tired of hearing myself “talk the talk”.  At one of the last meetings, I remember sharing about the bodhisattva vows, and heard myself saying how arrogant I was to think I could save all sentient beings.  That was the turning point.  I felt as if I had stabbed myself in the heart and was about to throw away something priceless.  I knew I had to leave the group.

It was around then that I read Eckhart Tolle’s book The Power of Now and started doing zazen again.  When I went to my last meeting, it was with a little sadness that I didn’t add “and I’m an alcoholic” after “Hi, my name’s Dave”.  One of the members asked me if this meant that I was rejecting their group.  I said no, just the opposite – they would always have a place in my heart because they welcomed me like family, with unquestioning acceptance, when I needed it most.

Why did I burn out?  I don't know.  I saw warning signs of procrastination and avoidance, but didn't want to acknowledge the problem.  All I know is, if you think you are falling, reach out.  If someone else is falling, reach out.

Fast forward to here and now.  I’m grateful for the sangha – cyber and otherwise, and for remembering a couple of things I had forgotten, and for that little group of bodhisattvas.  And thank you, bookbird, for the invitation to crawl out of my shell and talk about things I would have preferred to forget.

Why did I do that?  Perhaps it was so that I could do this.

There but for the...
No - just:
There go I




Monday, April 11, 2011

Mental Fractals: Thinking About Thinking About Thinking


Thinking about thinking about thinking
Ripples on the pond
Where the frog jumped in

I think too much.  At least I think I think too much.  Or maybe I just think I think I think too much…..  OK - I think too much!!

In my job, I have to think a lot – analyzing clients’ problems, poring over documents and statutes looking for loopholes, combing the internet for similar cases, writing briefs, editing and more editing, all the time scheming, scheming, scheming.  Going to court is like a breath of fresh air.

There is no question that thinking is a vital part of my life.  I couldn’t do my job without using my brain, and the microcircuits inside the contraption I’m staring at are the product of some serious brainwork.

But an old saying comes to mind: just as the eye can't see itself, the intellect can't comprehend itself.  Thinking about thinking just goes around and around like a fractal pattern.

In Zen, intellect is a two edged sword. Thinking about logical problems is fine, however discovering what our essential nature does, and how it operates, is not an intellectual exercise.  Thinking about it is like boarding a locomotive headed in the wrong direction.  Attempting to say more would be offering free rides to the train station.

When I walk to work, I intend to be mindful, but invariably catch myself scheming.  When I walk home, I catch myself replaying the day's scenarios.

So lately, the emphasis in my Zen practice is just to be present when I’m not taking action, and when I am, to just act.  At least that’s the theory.  My brain takes the position that zazen is a splendid opportunity for more scheming and scenario replaying.

One of the things that seems to help at work is to take a deep breath and be present for a moment before picking up the phone.

Another is to perform frequent micro tea ceremonies throughout the day.  I keep a carafe of green tea far enough away from my desk that I have to get up and walk over to it, and I use a small cup that needs refilling often.

If there’s time, the icing on the cake is a stroll in the nearby forest, where scheming and replaying seem to fade into the rushing sounds of the creek.

Like the hallucinations in the final scene of A Beautiful Mind, I don’t imagine random thoughts will ever go away, but with practice, I’ll pay less attention to them.

So c’mon, Monkey Mind, give me a hug and then run off and play!


Friday, April 8, 2011

Sense of Self


(There is a video clip on this page but it doesn't seem to be visible to every computer.
If you can't see it, a thousand apologies! :)

Sunday, March 27, 2011

An Ancient Tree Blooms: The Awakening of Compassion

Break open a cherry tree and there are no flowers,
But the spring breeze brings forth myriad blossoms.

~ Ikkyu Sojun

They say that the fruits of Buddhist practice are the awakening of wisdom and compassion.  As we grow in our practice, we first notice, then nurture, the blooming of these precious flowers in ourselves and others.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how this manifests in our society, especially our attitude to the suffering we inflict on women, other races and religions, gays and lesbians, the disabled, the addicted and mentally ill, and also other species.  There is a pattern that seems to repeat as we strive with each of these issues.

Schopenhauer said that every new truth goes through three stages:  First, it is ridiculed.  Second, it is violently opposed.  Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

It’s easy to imagine the mustachioed chauvinists in the men’s clubs of the last century smirking about the ridiculous notion that women should have equal rights.  As the women’s liberation movement gained momentum, their casual dismissiveness escalated to righteous indignation and then to frightened fury.

First, the law was changed, making a woman no longer a man’s property, then women were permitted to own property, then vote, then hold office.  Today it’s a no-brainer that our sisters are equal to us in every way.  Sadly, it’s not yet so self-evident to our brothers in all parts of the world.  Or for that matter at home, where you still hear us say “the wife” and “the little lady”.

The same pattern repeated with the abolition of slavery, then segregation, then racial prejudice – at least in the eyes of the law.

It’s heartening that many things we considered to be ‘politically correct’, such as gender-neutral language, are now just plain ‘correct’.  In hindsight, the whole political correctness issue seems like an awkward adolescent phase we were going through.

I feel a twinge of sadness when we slip a notch or two, as with the introduction of things like live crab vending machines and (*sigh*) meat-eating furniture

Recently, on the animal liberation front, we seem to be at Shopenhauer’s second stage with several states proposing laws to make it illegal to take or publish pictures of the mistreatment of animals in factory farms and slaughterhouses.  To wit: [a] person who photographs, video records, or otherwise produces images or pictorial records, digital or otherwise, at or of a farm or other property where legitimate agriculture operations are being conducted without the written consent of the owner, or an authorized representative of the owner, commits a felony of the first degree.

On the cheerier side, it’s a joy to read about our steps forward, as last year when Catalonia became the first region in Spain to ban bullfighting, and when Illinois abolished the death penalty earlier this month.

Reminders of evolving compassion are everywhere.  The photo is a Vancouver bus that accommodates motorized wheelchairs.

I think the internet and the social media networks are playing a major role in accelerating the flowering of compassion.  We can participate by forging links, one person at a time, by taking every opportunity to share and be kind, and above all, by remaining diligent in our daily practice, for without that, it’s all just words.

Who is asking this question?
What wants to know?
An ancient tree blooms

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Gazing at the Ox - Solipsism: Trapped in Tozan’s First Rank


Who would think that just beyond the gateless gate lies a deadly trap?

How could the realization of one’s true nature possibly have a down side?

The fact that I am contained in everything and everything is contained in me, where there is neither separateness nor oneness, would seem to be a state that has nowhere to go, nothing to do.

That’s the trap.

Wikipedia defines Metaphysical Solipsism as

the variety of idealism which is based on the argument that no reality exists other than one's own mind or mental states, and that the individual mind is the whole of reality and the external world has no independent existence. It is expressed by the assertion "I myself only exist", in other words, no reality exists other than one's own mind.

Yamada Koun Roshi (Robert Aitken Roshi’s teacher) called it “pernicious oneness”.

Beware of the intellect manufacturing gems like Everything is perfect just as it is, therefore I don’t need to do anything, or Everything is an illusion, including suffering, so I don’t need to do anything, or I don’t need to practice, because everything is enlightened. These and similar thoughts pave the comfortable road to hell.

Having finally seen the Ox face to face, are you just going to spend the rest of your life lovingly gazing into its eyes?

Hakuin Zenji said this about the First Rank of Tozan:

The rank of "The Apparent within the Real" denotes the rank of the Absolute, the rank in which one experiences the Great Death, shouts "KA!" sees Tao, and enters into the Principle. When the true practitioner, filled with power from his secret study, meritorious achievements, and hidden practices, suddenly bursts through into this rank, "the empty sky vanishes and the iron mountain crumbles." "Above, there is not a tile to cover his head; below, there is not an inch of ground for him to stand on." The delusive passions are non-existent, enlightenment is non-existent, Samsara is non-existent, Nirvana is non-existent. This is the state of total empty solidity, without sound and without odor, like a bottomless clear pool. It is as if every fleck of cloud had been wiped from the vast sky.

Too often the disciple, considering that his attainment of this rank is the end of the Great Matter and his discernment of the Buddha-way complete, clings to it to the death and will not let go of it. Such as this is called "stagnant water" Zen; such a man is called "an evil spirit who keeps watch over the corpse in the coffin." Even though he remains absorbed in this state for thirty or forty years, he will never get out of the cave of the self-complacency and inferior fruits of pratyeka-buddhahood. Therefore it is said: "He whose activity does not leave this rank sinks into the poisonous sea." He is the man whom Buddha called "the fool who gets his realization in the rank of the Real."

There is the small matter described in the delightful title of Jack Kornfield’s book After the Ecstasy the Laundry.

How can I escape from the trapless trap?  What direction should I take in a place where there are no directions?  One helpful idea might be to be mindful of compassion.

When everything you experience is a mirror, who is looking back at you through the eyes of a homeless addict or through the eyes of a cow at the slaughterhouse?

Now gazing into the eyes of the ox, be moved to do something.

P.S.  Don’t get stuck there either.  I try to refrain from giving advice, but I’ll make an exception here. If you think you may be stuck, find an experienced teacher without delay.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Can I Sing You a Sorry Song

Lyrics of a song I wrote 40 years ago.

You Are My Heart

Can I sing you a sorry song
About the times that I've been wrong
I loved myself more than you
I needed  your love, but I didn't want you

I closed my eyes and got lost in my mind
I couldn't see people, didn't know that I was blind
And I can't say now that it was long ago
There's only one thing now that I really know

Refrain:

You're the wind in the woods
You're the rain on the sea
You're smiles on faces
You're a babe yet to be
You're a stream through a forest
You are waves that are wild
You are my heart
And I am your child

So when I get proud and quick to condemn
Won't you kindly remind me of all the times when
I talked in my sleep thinking I was wise
But wouldn't stop dreaming to open my eyes

(Refrain repeating last 2 lines)

Oddly enough, it didn't make the charts, and I still have a tendency to talk in my sleep...
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