Welcome to the blog of a Midwesterner gone West Coast, a happily married clinical social worker.
With Zen practice, exploring what it means to be a true person of no rank and what it means to be in service to the present moment.
I am loosening my death grip on professional identity, identity in general, and leaving claw marks on everything I let go.
Some have called it a "handyman's special." Thankfully most of the (numerous) problems are cosmetic, although the furnace does need to be replaced. So we're back to fundraising for the repairs, which means it'll be some months until we move in.
Nevertheless, it's our handyman's special, thanks to 3-4 years of fundraising, skillful and honorable negotiation, and if we don't call it luck, well, let's call it karma, because we now own it outright. Free and clear. No mortgage.
There'll be a blog embedded in the Zen Community of Oregon website (massive upgrade to that website coming soon, folks) for all the latest news -- and I'll be sure to make that announcement whenever it's launched so you can put it on all your blogrolls and such.
The Blessing ceremony will be on 1/1/11 at 1:00pm.
Til then, here are some photos of the Temple.
The Fellowship area on the ground level
Plenty of work to be done
This original, blessedly unpainted ceiling of old growth Oregon wood is its most beautiful feature. The Sanctuary / Zendo is beautifully resonant for chanting. And thankfully not a lot of iconography to remove.
Currently sporting an Eastern Orthodox cross from its days as a Greek Orthodox church. I envision Jizo's Shakujo atop the bell tower. With lights? And rotating? (just kidding)
It seems reflective of the season. My practice feels dormant. At least the contemplative part. And I suspect this is just fine.
"Don't judge your practice." Zen Teacher Hogen Bays repeats this often, in many different forms. Over and over, he reminds us that we are not in any position to gauge what is going on, how we are doing, or what is happening.
Nevertheless, there is a sense of superficiality, of busyness in the mind, of easily distracted Zazen.
Okay, so compared to what? Compared to last spring and summer -- the experience of intensive Zen practice in the midst of a yearlong Sabbatical with regular sesshin, being inactive as a social worker, working on a koan and sweating an impending Hossan ceremony.
Now things are different. I am gainfully employed in the world again, and facing outward quite a bit more. Our Sangha has just purchased a church that will be the Heart of Wisdom Zen Temple. With such a change on the horizon, being a part of many of our Sangha's transition plans is a high-energy, high-people-contact endeavor.
I still sit, I still practice, I still enjoy being at the Zen Center twice a week. It's practice without much drama. Not sure what the fuel is. It seems a little quieter, and cleaner-burning than some earlier practice that seemed all about having eye on how I am doing, and how I am received by others.
I don't know if that makes sense.
Chozen Roshi talks about how our Zen practice has a natural rhythm with more passive times to incorporate periods of intense practice. Using the example of non-practicing spouses of serious practitioners, she says sometimes these latent periods can last lifetimes.
The last few sesshin, I have come away without a Zen adventure ("Zenventure?"), but instead just saying, "Something happened. I have no idea what it was."
I've been aspiring to write a series of posts on Pema Chodron's teachings on Shantideva's Way of the Bodhisattva, and well, just haven't found the energy and focus to really get started. But the energy and focus found me. Yesterday I came face to face with a teaching. Yesterday I found myself in the thick of a rant. The rant came after a work-related phone call with another professional. I remained (mostly) polite over the phone, save for a moment or two of sarcasm. When I got off the phone, I realized I was sweating. The anger got internalized, and then in a couple conversations afterwards, it came right out in a self-righteous, beleaguered, insulted, pissed-off rant. With hand gestures. And dramatic vocal range. Now there's some energy and focus. What force could possibly knock Jomon from her equinimitous (is that a word?) Ango practice of Right Speech?
4.27
I am as if benumbed by sorcery,
My mind reduced to total impotence
With no perception of the madness overwhelming me.
O what is it that has me in its grip?
Insurance companies. The minions of Mara.
Dealing with insurance companies is, for me, such a reliable, predictable trigger into fervent righteous angry victim mode, that it is familiar, becoming tiresome even, and still I seem to be able to only helplessly watch it arise. My best intervention has been to just try to avoid interacting with them, though this is not entirely possible. And I'm coming at it from the provider side of things; not even an ill person in need of benefits. I can know this is a danger zone for me, and believe I am about to use my skills to navigate sanely through it this time, and then the next thing you know, I'm Corky St. Clair in "Waiting for Guffman:"
Nobody ever plans to be Corky St. Clair:
6.24
Never thinking, "Now I will be angry."
People are impulsively caught up in anger.
Irritation, likewise comes --
Though never plans to be experienced!
All of it gives me a chance to see where the little velcro hooks are in me that get caught here every time. Certainly I harbor some opinions and views about how health care SHOULD be delivered, but boy howdy, isn't. In fact, this rant always ends the same way, with a soliloquy about the collective cost to a nation of all these bean counters on each side fighting over the same $20 bill in the no man's land of paperwork trench warfare, blah blah blah...
As I've said before, I'm a cheap date when it comes to righteousness (it does have an addictive quality), and I like to be right, and I don't like to not-know. Very strengthening of this ego, this self -- to have some evil empire to bump up against, generate emotion about, and verify all this selfing.
For whatever reason, I also get stuck in the roles in these conversations. I take them too seriously. I fail to see the larger picture. I hold my professional role too tightly, and I also see a them on the phone, something like one of the Borg in a big heartless, faceless corporation.
Indeed there may be some place for righteous anger, perhaps as fuel to change conditions that are oppressive. Nevertheless, Shantideva recommends patience as an antidote to anger. Certainly needed if there is to be change in this system, otherwise burnout will come fast and hard, and what good is that to anyone?
6.2
No evil is there similar to anger,
No austerity to be compared with patience.
Steep yourself, therefore, in patience--
In all ways, urgently, with zeal.
Pema Chodron and Shantideva also talk about three sources of patience:
Last month's Sesshin was a 10-day Sesshin, a few days longer than usual. We got word a day or two beforehand that this would be a caffeine-free Sesshin. You may have heard the scream from wherever you are when I learned of this.
Turns out, it wasn't so bad. I mean, the first two days are rough anyway. What's a little headache behind the eyes in addition? One thing that certainly eased it was for the first five or so days, we did a practice called toning. It seemed we were doing this for 10-15 minutes each period.
Here is some video:
Not your traditional Zen Sesshin activity, but definitely skillful means. Toning has a way of allowing the breath to fill the body. We could choose to tone the sounds 'mu', 'om', or 'ah'. We were not to be striving for prettiness, or harmony, or sounding "good" or any of that. Rather, filling ones whole being with the sound, becoming the sound, allowing the sound to be large, to fill the room... this was the experience. And sometimes the focus would be completely on the body, the individual sound, and other times, the sound would weave all around the room to join the other sounds. Sometimes the sounds would migrate together, like a flock of birds lifting and landing together. Other times it was a cacophony.
I have never in my life been able to project my voice in this way. It took a couple days, but finding a way to open open open and let out a sound that was not straining, but deeply powerful. Completely surprising.
Sometimes when the room settled into the 'ah' sound, it evoked an ethereal, angelic quality. Of course, the video doesn't capture the experience at all, but maybe you can get the drift.
It's off to Sesshin tomorrow, and with it, the mild obsession shaded with gentle tones of dread about Being Uncomfortable. I should just add it to my packing list: "Mild Dread About Being Uncomfortable." Check. Because there it always is in some form or another.
There have been some posts looking at renunciation on Dangerous Harvests and No Zen in the West that have been powerful. I read a quote (somewhere sometime) on renunciation by Ajahn Amaro. He says that there is some sadness in renunciation, but also such joy as we let go of old ways of being, and embrace more wholesome ways. Or some such.
It led me to recall one Sesshin which happened to fall during the St. Louis Cardinals World Series. MY Beloved St Louis Cardinals! Missing it was a mild bummer, but it turned out that I really had no interest in trading the opportunity to sit Sesshin for the ability to watch the series. It rather just gently fell away.
There is a line in Shantideva's Way of the Bodhisattva that I've been carrying (and meant to really flesh out in some fancy big blog post) that compares the renunciation of letting go of non-virtuous actions to the experience of a person condemned to death row, then who is suddenly spared and only has their hand cut off instead. Whatever we are giving up, whatever discomforts we are experiencing is really nothing compared to the misery and suffering that we would have if we chose NOT to walk this path.
And in not at all unrelated news, I'll also be carrying Jeanne (aka the Dalai Grandma) and her living kidney donor Laura, in my heart, with best wishes that their kidney transplant surgery went as well as can be for both of them yesterday. May they and all of us be well.
I went to a downtown frame shop to frame some prints for my office. I work right in the heart of downtown, now, which is a HUGE shift from the rural ville of 3,000 or so folks where I worked for 9 years.
Making small talk with the framer about the destination of these prints, and my recent transition got him talking about working downtown too, and we went way beyond appreciating Portland's weirdness when he started going on about how aggressive the panhandlers are, and how soft Portland is on them. There had been an article in the city paper some weeks ago with the headline "Would Rudy Giuliani Put Up With This?" or something. He even went in the back room to get the paper, to show me how he thought the ostensibly homeless fellow in the cover photo even had an iPhone. To be fair, his issue was with people he thought were not in fact needy or homeless, but were merely affecting the lifestyle -- young people with ripped clothing and very expensive guitars.
Diane Eshin Rizzetto in her book Waking Up To What You Do, discusses the Precepts like a lighthouse. It doesn't tell you what to do or not do; it alerts you to dangerous waters. You are free to change course, or, if needed, proceed to shore with caution. It is there to remind you to Look! Listen! Pay attention!
So I've waded into this conversation, and I can see and hear the lighthouse image! Wonderful! Now what? Well, she advises us (during or after the interaction) to check our body sensations, emotions, and try to tease out the story that we are telling ourselves.
Body sensations - a little tension in the muscles, a little fidgety, eyes wandering more.
Emotions - a little anxious.
Thoughts - Wanting to connect with this guy, and also not wanting to denigrate a whole population of people in the process.
So now what? Change the subject? I am really terrible at that. I think I said some mild thing like 'Gosh, it's really something we have to work with all the time, huh. ' Not my finest hour, but also not playing into a conversation I probably would have felt worse about later.
What would you have said?
My husband is the frontrunner on this question: "Yeah, that iPhone probably made him homeless! AT&T and all their charges!"
It's a good thing I had a few days to reflect on this searching and fearless moral inventory. The workbook I used listed many open questions on each of the following topics:
Honesty, Love, Maturity, Sex, Fear, Anger, Self-Worth, Responsibilities, Finances, Gratitude, and more. Daunting, but so helpful!
So what comes of setting aside a few days to reflect on one's strengths and shortcomings? After a few days of writingwritingwriting on these subjects, it turns out there is a lot more right with me than there is wrong with me. This is no surprise -- to anyone who doesn't carry my driver's license. Actually going through the whole process was key to seeing this clearly. To be open to it all, positive, negative, neutral, and to remain in non-judgmental stance as much as possible. When we're afraid to look, the challenges can loom large -- like a monster in the closet. But opening the door and shining a flashlight reveals it was just a coat.
There weren't really any big surprises, just a wonderful opportunity to focus, and to begin moving more deeply into practicing with the Precepts. From here, I have decided to focus more on the Precepts pertaining to Right Speech.
One of the many great things about this retreat was that I got to create my own structure and container. Another great thing was that I actually worked with the Dharma books I brought (as opposed to hauling them around out of worry that I would lack something to do). Mostly I read and worked with Waking Up to What You Do, a wonderful book on applying the Precepts in our lives by Diane Eshin Rissetto. This book deserves a whole post of its own. One of the things I love about it is her re-ordering of the Precepts, and her use of language in the positive. For example, "I Take Up the Way of Speaking of Others With Openness and Possibility." "I Take Up the Way of Meeting Others on Equal Ground."
I also worked with No Time to Lose, A Timely Guide to the Way of the Bodhisattva by Pema Chodron,
and The Heart of Being by Daido Loori.
All of these focused to some degree or another on the Precepts, and I really enjoyed seeing the overlaps in the 12-Step process and the Precepts, since this is the first time I have done such a structured 4th Step (Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves) since I started practicing Buddhism.
And of course, I'm not done; the 4th Step is followed by the 5th Step (Admitted to our Higher Power, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs).
There is something spiritually universal or archetypal around this template of self-assessment, confession, atonement, and rededication. How wonderful that we do not have to reinvent the wheel of how to live a decent human life. It only occurred to me yesterday that this retreat happened to fall during Yom Kippur. I appreciate James Ford's post about Yom Kippur and the importance of ever-returning to such practices as atonement and rededication as an integral part of the path to peace.
Shantideva spends a lot of time doing what Pema Chodron calls "Preparing the Ground" for being a Bodhisattva. This includes atonement. She writes,
Rather than hiding our mistakes from ourselves and others, we forthrightly declare them. By acknowledging them to ourselves, we avoid self-deception. In certain circumstances we may also declare them to someone else, as witness to our wise intention.
To see clearly how we strengthen or weaken crippling patterns, we have to bring them to light... You may ask, "Isn't it enough to acknowledge my regrets to myself?" It does help a lot, but not enough to completely dissolve self-deception. When we express our regrets to the buddhas or another human being, we can't kid ourselves. As an act of self-compassion and self-respect, we use a witness to expose ourselves to ourselves...
The practice of confession... relies on the view that neurosis, while it may feel monolithic or immutable, is essentially transitory and insubstantial. It is just very strong energy that we mistakenly identify as a solid and permanent "me". Confessing, like making offerings and prostrations, helps us let go of this fixed version of who we are.
A friend in the 12 Steps said the 4th Step and 5th Steps are like flushing the toilet. What if you never did that at home, and instead chose to ignore or pretend there was no need? What if you flushed once and said, 'Whew! Glad that's overwith.' No, we have to deal with our "shit" on a daily basis. And being full of shit is not a problem unless we are not recognizing it and acting accordingly.
I admit to some resistance to the process, though, which I think is pretty natural. My resistance showed up in at least one amusing way. I had decided that Friday Morning After Breakfast would be when I would start writing. I brought my workbook and little tote bag of other books into the peace and quiet of the Lodge library, crawled into an overstuffed couch, and found myself not writing, but reading. Reading the first chapter of Eshin's book, which was on Honesty. Well the first workbook writing would be about Honesty, so I guessed a little preliminary reading was OK. And ahh, the geothermally supplied warmth of the radiators! The comfort of the sound of gently falling rain outside! Yep, I was instantly and completely overcome by a drooling NAP. Fell sound asleep whilst reading Waking Up to What You Do. It would have been a marvelous photo.
These aggressive naps overtook me throughout the process just prior to starting out another session of writing. And it's not like I'm tired. I have not been this well-rested and stably energetic in quite a while. No, these were psychological / emotional naps. And I didn't make a big deal about it, I would just wake up, mop the drool, and begin the next writing session perhaps even a little more refreshed and focused.
I have returned, and will post some about personal retreat, but first, here is a great video from my friend Sam, who is currently a resident at Great Vow Zen Monastery.
I like how the first 70% or so of the video is the morning routine. I suspect it simply feels that way, when you're starting at 3:50am.
I'm doing it for my friend Stacey. Magnanimously laying aside my weekend to accompany her to the gorgeous retreat center of Breitenbush, while she experiences her first meditation retreat. What a friend I am, eh? She'll be participating in the Women's Vipassana Retreat with Julie Wester that I attended some years ago (and wrote about here), and ever since, each year, entreat my non-meditating women friends to go, go, go! Stacey is the first one who has taken me up on it.
I'll be there on personal retreat, so, holding my own container and schedule.
A day or two ago, in preparation, I glanced towards an old friend, The Woman's Retreat Book by Jennifer Louden. I say glanced, because I just read a chapter section title called "Intention." My thoughts went something like this: "Oh yeah, intention! She says this is the key to a retreat. So lemme formulate some intentions: I'm gonna do my 4th Step writing. I'm gonna soak first thing in the morning and I'm gonna do yoga every day before breakfast. Intentions! Set! Check! Done!"
Then I actually read this part of the book again. Um, turns out those were goals, not intentions.
She actually advises that an intention be stated in the form of a question (insert Jeopardy! joke here). For example: "For the next 24 hours I intend to be kind to myself." vs. "For the next 24 hours I intend to ask, 'How can I be kinder to myself?"
A statement can feel like a should. A question still articulates some longing, but continues to allow for not-knowing and discovery. Some rather important elements on retreat.
Louden goes on to say, "Intention is an aim that guides action. A goal, by contrast, is the purpose toward which an endeavor is directed. Intention is gentle and keeps you in the moment, focused on unfoldment. Goal is driven and keeps you in the future, focused on finishing, doing it all, doing it right... The word intention comes from the Latin root intendere, meaning "to stretch toward something."
Well that changes things.
I continue to have a goal to write my 4th step using the amazing AlAnon workbook on the subject. This is really about taking some time to look deeply at my strengths and weaknesses (this workbook makes sure not to leave out the strengths), and taking a non-judgmental stance towards this inventory. Perhaps it is an intention about clarity. "How can I see myself more clearly?"
And then from that, another question arises: "How are the Precepts being expressed in my life?" and "How can I express the Precepts more fully?"
I continue to have the goal for daily yoga, but perhaps that may be just about the simple act of stretching towards something. Or maybe even just stretching for stretching's sake. Y'know: Nothing to attain.
Oh dear. I have just discovered something that is apparently new to blogspot: Stats. When did they add stats? Or have I just been blissfully ignorant of them all this time?
I've read many a post from you other-kind-of-blog bloggers about your practice with stats: How many hits have I gotten? Who's reading my blog? Why was that post popular and that post wasn't? What search terms are people using to get to my blog? Kloncke wrote a great post about this, and even created StatDragons to illustrate the weekly ups and downs of feedback from blog hit statistics. I have always been grateful that I hadn't the same ability to check and check and check: How am I doing? What does everybody think of me?
Now I do.
So observing myself observing the numbers, learning features of the stats application, like being able to see the different countries from whence the hits have come (hey there, Estonia!); this seems fine. It's the Olympic-level jumping to conclusions, the interpretations, the stories being generated about what it all means about me that starts to feel potentially problematic.
So I'll try to balance this shocking new option for self-obsession with a morsel from Pema Chodron's No Time to Lose: A Timely Guide to the Way of the Bodhisattva, in which she combs through and comments upon each line of Shantideva's Way of the Bodhisattva, a text written in the eighth century, and no less relevant this very minute.
6.93
Children can't help crying when
Their sand castles come crumbling down.
Our minds are so like them
When praise and reputation start to fail.
"We invest so much energy into getting people to admire us, but our reputations, like everything else, are as impermanent as sand castles, and attachment to them causes so much unnecessary pain.
There's a Charlie Brown cartoon that shows Lucy building an elaborate sand castle, saying proudly, "And a thousand years from now, people will see what I did here today and be totally amazed." It's this nonsensical attitude that Shantideva addresses here.
Better to regard yourself as a character in a play. You can take the part of a person who's famous or admired, without taking this identity too seriously. If praise and reputation are as fragile as sand castles, it's realistic to not be disturbed when they pass away with the changing tides. Then you can build a magnificent sand castle, covered with beautiful shells and stones. You can even get people to help you and enjoy it thoroughly, and when the waves come in, out it goes."
Riding the bus every day just seriously rocks. I am not kidding. This after 9 years of a 45-minute-one-way commute in the car. Now I have a 20-minute-each-way bus ride every day. I have been folding it right into practice, or rather, it has been offering me some practice opportunities. Here are some Mindfulness-Based Bus Riding (MBBR)* practices I have been enjoying:
Just Getting on the Schedule: Yes, there's a schedule and technology to help track each bus' moves to the minute, but still, the bus is on its schedule, not mine, and adjusting myself to that schedule is a change. Not being in the drivers seat moves me one more welcome degree away from the center of the universe.
Driver Practice: Watching the attentive eyes of the drivers take in the road, the periphery, the doors, and the passengers, around and around, over and over. Just maneuvering these mammoth beasts throughout town is a remarkable skill. Some of the drivers are anxious and cranky, some of them are incredibly cheerful and open. Appreciating their training not just in the technical aspect of the job, but in how each of their personalities and their millions of interactions with the passengers sets a tone on their bus that is palpable.
Love Bus: Metta Practice is perfect for the bus. My friend Gensho and I spent an afternoon practicing Metta on MAX, the light rail train (see Lovingkindness to the MAX). The bus is a rolling metal tube hurtling people through town, and it can be filled with a powerful heart-wish for each and all the beings on it to be free from fear and anxiety, to be at ease, to be deeply happy.
Bodhisattva Detective: The bus can call up images of human suffering, and suffering is certainly there, but the bus can also be full of moments of human grace. People moving aside to share a seat, people giving genuine attention to relative strangers talking about the health and lives of their families, the young African American man who jumped off the bus to take the hand of the blind woman and escort her all the way into her doctor's office (she was having some difficulty navigating the corner, and the driver was trying to verbally help her for some time). It's easier to find these Bodhisattvas when you're looking for them.
Body Scan: This can be difficult, as the bus is full of so many distractions. So there's always the option to sit down and cue up a body scan meditation on the iPod. What if we all did this?
This is my preliminary list. I hope to add more practices. Anyone else have their own Mindful Bus Practices? Or anything similar?
*apologies to Jon Kabat-Zinn and the Center for Mindfulness
Experiencing life post-Sabbatical. I am so happy and grateful, it is way bigger than me. Turns out I really do enjoy my work as a clinical social worker, especially when it's not like drinking out a firehose. I used to say that I loved my work at the county, but there was just so darn much of it.
I just called my old supervisor the other day, and she said she couldn't believe it had only been a year that I'd been gone; that it seemed like 10 years. A lot happens there in a day. There's a reason people count their time in dog years.
It has been such a gift and an honor to focus on clients again. And keeping the focus on me, too.
I suspect the big changes in my diet and other health-related practices has also given me a boost to some degree. It certainly was a major change. I remember just feeling an energetic floor one day. Nice. And impermanent.
Social work is my trade, and I am very grateful that I have not had to stop practicing it. Especially at a point in my career when I have a little seasoning. I like to think it's about to get really interesting now.
I was describing the difference to someone -- that instead of treading water, it's more like water ballet.
Also I have an inordinate amount of gratitude about getting to ride the bus every day. Bus Practice is its own blog post, perhaps coming soon.
Here's a little clip from one of my top three favorite movies of all time, Stuart Smalley Saves His Family. It's such an affectionate sendup of the 12-Step programs and their wonderful slogans that only a self-depricating codependent insider could accomplish.
The attitude of gratitude -- it ain't just a platitude.
What a fun project, and no better way for me to return from a l'il blogging hiatus. Another gift from Nate at Precious Metal: An interview swap around the BuddhoBlogosphere. Thanks for continuing to be so dang awesome, Nate! Check all the interviews out here. I was fortunate to be paired with Adam from Fly Like a Crow. Here, we recovering-Midwesterners-gone-West-Coast share all over the map about our lives and practice. And hey! Musical accompaniment!
Do you feel that relocation from the Midwest has figured into your transition into Buddhist practice in any way?
I was born in Michigan, and spent the next 20 years of my life there. I always had a burning desire to get the hell out of Michigan, and when the itch could no longer be scratched by dreams alone I packed up and headed out West. Literally, I just packed up a couple of bags and left. First I wound up in Vancouver, B.C. The liberal nature of Vancouver and Canada appealed greatly to me at the time, but I found the city to be really, really dirty. Sure there were nice parts and such, but it just didn’t feel right. So I headed back down to Seattle and eventually found work and my beautiful wife. For me the entire trip and my motivations for leaving were of a profoundly spiritual nature. Spiritual, but not religious per say. Think Into the Wild, but more like Into the Rain.
When I moved out West, I knew that a new spiritual path would find me, I just didn’t know what. Well, along came this knock-out gorgeous girl (I still don’t know why she puts up with me…) that had these crazy pagan tattoos on her arms and read tarot cards and BAM! I was in love.
I had only been vaguely familiar with many of the earthy European “pagan” religious beliefs before I met Alex, and she opened me up to a whole ‘nother world in respect to those beliefs. But something about it still didn’t feel… complete. I still hold some of those beliefs and values today, but focus on the particulars less. It was when we were living in Bellingham and she stared to talk about her time practicing as a Nichiren Buddhist as a youth that put a bug in my ear. I started looking at Buddhism, and I read about the Four Noble Truths, and that was it. I knew, knew that Buddhism was for me. If I hadn’t moved out West, I have no idea what spiritual path I’d be on now.
Do you come from Midwestern farm stock, and / or suffer from the Protestant Work Ethic as well?
Oh god yes. My Father has worked for GM his whole life, his father owned his own HVAC company. My other Grandfather was a factory worker his whole life. The industrial reality of life was instilled in me at an early age. There was always “work” to be done, even at 4 and 5 years old. And while I didn’t live on a farm, I worked on a sugar beet farm for a couple of summers. I’d walk up and down the rows of beets hacking away at weeds from sunup to 4pm earning $2 an hour. All so I could save up enough cash to replace the retainer that I lost. Thanks Dad.
Tell me about your spiritual background - were you raised in any spiritual tradition?
During my time in Michigan, I was raised in a relaxed Lutheran church. No fire, no brimstone. It was more about choir, meaningful sermons and monthly potlucks than saving souls and damning non-believers. But the belief system never really clicked with me. I think it was when I first learned about dinosaurs that something in my head went “hmm… wait a minute…” I tried and tried, but Christianity never really fit me. I suppose I’ve never really felt a need for God.
Any childhood moments of realization?
Funny you should ask. Lately during meditation, memories have begun to surface that I had never really paid much attention to before. I’ve been remembering that at an early age, for a time I was obsessed with mind, and what it was. There were a couple of moments I recall where time seemed infinite and minute all at once, where there was no chatter in my head and I seemed to “float” in my own consciousness or something. It’s hard to describe considering it happened over 15 years ago. But I remember it bringing up questions like: Why was I able to observe the ego-voice in my head? Were there two Adams? But if I could also notice that I was able to notice that “ego-voice”, how many levels could this continue on for? Would there always be “someone” watching that voice in my head that was watching the watcher that was watching the watcher etc…..
Eventually I think I just stopped contemplating about all that. I figured if I thought about such things long enough, eventually I’d end up in a room with padded walls somewhere.
You started with Nichiren. What is your primary practice these days? Chanting? Meditation? Are you still unaffiliated? You’re purt near One Drop Zendo and Shodo Harada Roshi (my Teachers’ Teacher)! Have you been? And are you considering dipping a toe into retreat practice? (I understand this may be something for later in life, esp now with baby #2 coming along - congratulations!)
(I felt like I could answer all of these questions at once, since they’re all closely related) I’ve posted before about how I’ve recently left SGI (and my time spent there) so I won’t bore you with that again. My practice that I’m crafting now doesn’t really fall into any tradition. This isn’t on purpose, me trying to “go rouge” or anything. I simply don’t have reasonable access to a “real-life” dharma center or sangha (getting to the One Drop Zendo would be at least a 2 hour commute one way that would involve a ferry ride). There are some other cool places about 1-2 hours away, but I don’t have the means or time to make that happen. I work 40+ hours per week. When I get home, it’s time for my son’s dinner, then bath, then story time, then bed. That gives my wife and I-2 (maybe 3) hours of “alone” time to do dishes, sweep the floor, fold laundry, and maybe try to squeeze in a movie on Netfilx in. If I were to drive the 1-2 hours it takes to get to one of the Buddhist centers, participate, and then drive back, I wouldn’t see my wife or son pretty much all day except for the 30 minutes I spent with them in the morning. Not only do I not want to live that way, it would put a huge and unnecessary burden on my wife. So for now, what I do is nightly I do some stretches. I am extremely inflexible and can’t even think about doing full-lotus, so that’s where I start. I’m also not as active as I once was, so I take this time to do some push-ups and sit-ups, get the heart rate up and a little sweat going. Then I sit in front of my alter/butsudon, and recite the Gatha of Atonement and the 5 remembrances 3 times each. Then, I meditate for 20 minutes. I study daily as well. Right now I’m working with The Wings to Awakening. I have about 20 books on my shelf in queue that I really want to dig into, including some on Zen.
As far as a tradition goes, I haven’t really settled upon one. There are parts of Therevada that call out to me, but lately Zen has been tugging on my shirt sleeve as well. Particularly your tradition, Rinzai (I’m also a bit intrigued by Ch’an). There is something about the use of koans that really speaks to me. Jaye from Digital Zendo shot me with one a couple of weeks ago. In Zen there are the 10 Ox Herding pictures. For me the idea of using a koan is like grabbing the bull by the horns and wrestling him to the ground. It’s like combat for your mind. At least that was my first experience with it. I’m probably wrong.
Call me a fundy, but the older Pali cannon speaks to me more so than the Mahayana. I’m just not a fan of some of the imagery used, as well as some of the language or the idea that some of the Buddha’s teachings were somehow provisional that you find in Mahayana. That’s not to say that I don’t love the Heart Sutra or some of the other Mahayana texts though.
On the other hand, the Pali cannon is a labyrinth to navigate, especially for someone with no access to a real-life teacher such as myself. Also I feel that I’d never be able to dedicate enough time to any kind of real jhana practice. I have other issues and things I like about each tradition. I haven’t decided which particular path to pursue. For now I stretch, sit with the breath, and study.
Retreats? Maybe eventually. Maybe a day-long or a two day weekend retreat. I just couldn’t imagine using my 1-2 weeks of vacation/year to ditch my kids to go sit in a room somewhere. I’d rather head to the redwoods and go camping with them.
Buddhism and Parenting: Discuss!
Oh boy! Certainly we want to raise our son (and soon to arrive daughter) to be spiritual people, whatever form that takes. I have no idea what’s going to happen when they get older when it comes to religion. I’m sure we’ll teach them about all our influences, (be they Pagan, New Age, Buddhist or whatever we choose to pick off the shelf) but in what structure, I don’t yet know. Right now my son Corbin really likes grabbing my tiny Hotei statue off the shelf and running around with it (he calls him “happy face Booo-dah”). That works for now I suppose.
Can you say more about your lovely spouse and how your practices co-exist, the support for each others' practice, etc.
We’ve been working on that lately, trying to figure it all out.
Pick yer poison: Which of the five hindrances come up most for you?
Two of the biggest obstacles I face (and two of the reasons I felt Buddhism was the right path for me) are two of the 5 hindrances. The first being sloth/torpor/boredom. I’m lazy. Not like Momma from What’s Eating Gilbert Grape lazy, but lazy nonetheless. I have issues being motivated to do the simplest of things, even when I know how beneficial they are. I’d like to blame TV or my Father for going to far in instilling the Protestant work ethic in me to a point that I rebelled against it, but I can’t. The fault lies with me and me alone. I’m working on it. My wife would probably argue much too slowly, but I’m working on it. It’s complicated.
The other hindrance that bites me in the ass is restlessness, or the inability to calm the mind. I have ADHD, and this can be a HUGE issue for me. It causes me to forget, to procrastinate when I shouldn’t, to miss deadlines. At times it can be an uncontrollable monster, and at other times more like a caged monkey. But a caged monkey is still a monkey. To say my mind wanders is like saying the Titanic had a small leak. And while some may scoff at the idea of Buddhism offering “self-help”, I think it does provide some of that. Certainly there are elements of self-improvement to be found when walking this path. Science has revealed that meditation does have real, tangible benefits for people that have ADHD, but I only view this as part of the ‘benefit’ of practice. I also take responsibility for my actions and thoughts in spite of my ADHD, I don’t blame anything I do or don’t do on it. To me that would be the easy way out. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.
Favorite Buddhist books / authors?
Contemporary teachers that I’ve found valuable and to my liking include Thanissaro Bikkhu and John Daido Loori. Two very different teachers no doubt, but there is something familiar about T.B.’s approach that really hits home for me. Maybe it is my love for philosophy. And Loori’s writing is authoritatively beautiful, if that makes any sense whatsoever. I have only read bits of his work, and have a few of his books on my shelf that are next in my queue that I’m looking forward to diving into. I have much to learn and even more to experience.
Current favorite Buddhist quote.
I’ve posted on my experience with homelessness before, so it may not come as a surprise that Homeless Kodo (Kodo Sawaki) holds a special place in my heart as well. I’ve only recently discovered him and his writings. One of my favorite quotes of his: "Everyone is homeless – it is a mistake if you think you have a fixed home."
Favorite song that intentionally or unintentionally expresses Dharma
“Instrumental” by Box Car Racer. Mostly it’s the notes and words that you don’t hear that make that song powerful. At least to me. I suppose a case could be made for Jazz being the most “Buddhist” form of music for the same reasons.
Is there a song that might be your “theme song”?
As with much of life, it would depend on my mood. If I could express my most common moods according to song in no particular order they would be:
“AEnima” by Tool
“Late in the evening” by Paul Simon
“Midnight Rider” by the Allman Brothers
“Alive” by Pearl Jam
“This Cocaine makes me feel like I’m on this song” by System of a Down
“Wish you were here” Pink Floyd
“Sagaba” Blue Scholars
“I believe in a thing called love” by The Darkness – (it was the song my wife and I walked down the aisle to)
