I've been chanting Aham Prema (I am Divine Love/You Are Divine Love) for Lent. Whenever I change my practice around, adding or subtracting mantras, things pop up that I haven't seen in a while. Sometimes they pass, but sometimes they put on the *whole* show. Last week I was reminded that sometimes sitting meditation takes serious effort. To sit through the mental discomfort of monkey mind and do nothing is not always easy, and to try to befriend that discomfort is even harder.
In my last post I thought I was going to write about the four kayas (about how thoughts aren't born, don't dwell, don't end, how that's just their nature) and I kind of did, but I've found that the thoughts that annoy and confuse are especially useful to observe. I used to try to fix them, but somewhere along the way my view of reality shifted and I saw through them to the way I perceive reality. I was able to stay aware in my confusion. Whereas before I would catch myself after I'd shut down and closed myself off from the discomfort, I came to be able to stay open through it, which is to say that I was able to see *through* the thoughts, but also able to *see* through *them*.
Someone commented that they've NEVER had any success with meditation but might try it again after reading my last post. I heard the same thing last week from a workshop participant. I hear it a lot. Many people have a hard time with sitting meditation. Me too sometimes. My friend Sue commented: I know my early efforts at meditation were difficult because I am not used to "doing nothing." It takes effort to "just sit." But it's worth it. I agree, it's totally worth it, and the only way through is through. For what it's worth, here's what I do: I sit down, chant for as long as it takes to get my mind as quiet as the day will allow, then I just look, and try not to analyze; to be present, but not to hang onto anything, neither the bad nor the good, not even the realization that there's nothing to hang on to.
A thought is not always the same as it was the last time I had it. It's like reading a favorite poem: I am not the same person I was the first time I read it, and often a different passage speaks to me, but each poem is being read over and again because it has spoken to me before and may do so again - hopefully in a way that will lead me toward a more compassionate and open-hearted way of being.
The relationship I have with my thoughts during meditation has changed over the years, and although I have ways to bring myself back to the breath and to an experience of resting in equanimity, the mind is a wily critter and uses subtle trickery that I can only see through if I continue to look and listen, even at things I think I've already seen and heard.
Can you coax your mind from its wandering
and keep to the original oneness?
Can you let your body become
supple as a newborn child's?
Can you cleanse your inner vision
until you see nothing but the light?
Can you love people and lead them
without imposing your will?
Can you deal with the most vital matters
by letting events take their course?
Can you step back from your own mind
and thus understand all things?
Giving birth and nourishing,
having without possessing,
acting with no expectations,
leading and not trying to control:
this is the supreme virtue.
Tao Te Ching, by Lao-tzu, Trans. Stephen Mitchell
Monday, March 21, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Don't plan. Just sit.
That's what I tell myself all the time. This particular habit, honed over decades, has fewer applications than you might think. I know I am not the only person who sits down to meditate only to be confronted with endless streams of mental list making. Once I was talking with a Zen teacher and she said to me "You're a planner." It took every ounce of strength to keep myself from saying "No s***, because it’s tiring when "time keeps on slippin' into the future” and I’ve missed the present moment again, or the last ten minutes worth of present moments. However, it also seems silly to plan to quit planning.
I can go for weeks when planning isn't my biggest problem, when I can just smile and go back to breathing in and breathing out, remembering that I am not the center of the universe and putting you there instead. Then, all of a sudden, a day will arrive where I am so impatient with myself that you'd think I was the center of the universe and have been doing it wrong all this time! Sitting quietly for 25 minutes can be a huge challenge. Can I sit with nothing on my mind? Can I remain attentive like a cat at a mouse hole? If something comes up, can I let it go and return to counting the breath? Not on those days. On those days I am hardest on myself. There's always another self-deprecating thought eager to replace the current one, and the gnarlier the thought, the easier it finds its way back onto my train of thoughts. Sometimes those days can last a week.
My brain is quick to provide an answer to almost any question it can muster, which makes me wonder about the efficacy of having a quick brain. The things that pop into my head run the gamut from brilliant and hilarious to ridiculous and snarky. Over the years I've discovered I'm not alone in having an uncontrollable mind, which discovery led me to other discoveries: 1) You and I are in the same boat more often than not, and 2) I can only be gentle with you to the extent I am capable of being gentle with myself.
“Self? Will I ever get better at this?” Self answers “That’s not the point. You don’t meditate to get better at meditating. Meditate to open your heart, to be more compassionate and less fearful and reactive.” “Uh, self? Is it working?” “How the hell do I know? Just sit. Breathe."
You have no idea how many times I've run that script. I’m pretty sure people won't mistake me for Jesus or the latest incarnation of the Bodhisattva of compassion anytime soon (another script I often run). I've been meditating for years, and still find myself sitting in front of my little altar trying to be compassionate toward myself, going back to the breath, breathing in my impatience and frustration with myself and everyone else's impatience and frustration with themselves, and breathing out patience and more for us all. I once read that you should begin with yourself. Easier said than done. I might understand the workings of my ego better than the workings of your ego, but I often have to stop myself from thinking it’s easier to fix your stuff, and drag myself back to the breath. Someone told me once “It’s not help if you haven’t been asked to help.” Sit. Stay. Remember to breathe.
Another thing I try to remember is to hold things lightly. Thoughts just happen, without prompting, and they don't stop coming. If I am able to let them go, there is always another thought eager to take its place. This is oddly comforting, because it means that thoughts are not solid, which means we don’t have to process every one. I also try not to fall into habitual patterns of reacting to the thoughts that pop up, which makes for some fun times on the zafu. I once wrote a haiku while I was trying to meditate. I don’t usually write haiku, so I dutifully labeled it “thinking” as it wandered by:
Flat smoke curls and twists
As I sit on my cushion
Thinking again, heh.
Occasionally I find a quiet place; sitting without thought. When I am given the grace of openness and quiet sitting for a few minutes, I'm often surprised, yet grateful for the space. If I look at the clock, I find that 35 or 40 minutes have passed and I have just been sitting, and I haven't scolded myself, not even once. I bow in thanks.
I can go for weeks when planning isn't my biggest problem, when I can just smile and go back to breathing in and breathing out, remembering that I am not the center of the universe and putting you there instead. Then, all of a sudden, a day will arrive where I am so impatient with myself that you'd think I was the center of the universe and have been doing it wrong all this time! Sitting quietly for 25 minutes can be a huge challenge. Can I sit with nothing on my mind? Can I remain attentive like a cat at a mouse hole? If something comes up, can I let it go and return to counting the breath? Not on those days. On those days I am hardest on myself. There's always another self-deprecating thought eager to replace the current one, and the gnarlier the thought, the easier it finds its way back onto my train of thoughts. Sometimes those days can last a week.
My brain is quick to provide an answer to almost any question it can muster, which makes me wonder about the efficacy of having a quick brain. The things that pop into my head run the gamut from brilliant and hilarious to ridiculous and snarky. Over the years I've discovered I'm not alone in having an uncontrollable mind, which discovery led me to other discoveries: 1) You and I are in the same boat more often than not, and 2) I can only be gentle with you to the extent I am capable of being gentle with myself.
“Self? Will I ever get better at this?” Self answers “That’s not the point. You don’t meditate to get better at meditating. Meditate to open your heart, to be more compassionate and less fearful and reactive.” “Uh, self? Is it working?” “How the hell do I know? Just sit. Breathe."
You have no idea how many times I've run that script. I’m pretty sure people won't mistake me for Jesus or the latest incarnation of the Bodhisattva of compassion anytime soon (another script I often run). I've been meditating for years, and still find myself sitting in front of my little altar trying to be compassionate toward myself, going back to the breath, breathing in my impatience and frustration with myself and everyone else's impatience and frustration with themselves, and breathing out patience and more for us all. I once read that you should begin with yourself. Easier said than done. I might understand the workings of my ego better than the workings of your ego, but I often have to stop myself from thinking it’s easier to fix your stuff, and drag myself back to the breath. Someone told me once “It’s not help if you haven’t been asked to help.” Sit. Stay. Remember to breathe.
Another thing I try to remember is to hold things lightly. Thoughts just happen, without prompting, and they don't stop coming. If I am able to let them go, there is always another thought eager to take its place. This is oddly comforting, because it means that thoughts are not solid, which means we don’t have to process every one. I also try not to fall into habitual patterns of reacting to the thoughts that pop up, which makes for some fun times on the zafu. I once wrote a haiku while I was trying to meditate. I don’t usually write haiku, so I dutifully labeled it “thinking” as it wandered by:
Flat smoke curls and twists
As I sit on my cushion
Thinking again, heh.
Occasionally I find a quiet place; sitting without thought. When I am given the grace of openness and quiet sitting for a few minutes, I'm often surprised, yet grateful for the space. If I look at the clock, I find that 35 or 40 minutes have passed and I have just been sitting, and I haven't scolded myself, not even once. I bow in thanks.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Forget Lent II: Practice Showing Love
Things come and things go. Some things remain fairly constant, some change with the seasons. Many change when we least expect it. Some are erased from the earth completely yet linger in memory or curiosity. Still, there are are things I'd like to be more constant and intentional about: loving neighbor as self, staying open, exercising, (add your list here).
I've been listening to and reading the news from the earthquake in Japan and the rest of the world. I don't know anyone who hasn't been. I've been praying about it all. Many people are praying about it all. Some are giving of their time and talent, as they say. Can't have too much time and talent. That's what gets things built, and rebuilt after all hell has broken loose.
There have also been lots of folks still musing about the season of Lent, even though I thought my last post was quite clear (Forget Lent). Much of this Lenten musing has taken the form of the ode to sacrifice and suffering. There are the usual run-of-the-mill "I'm giving up..." articles. I'm pleased to report that chocolate, smoking, profanity, cheese, sugar, and fat seem to be holding their own as the go-to choices. Some bloggers think we're in danger of losing the season unless we embrace sacrifice and suffering the way they've always done it ("OMG we've lost Lent!"). Another asserted that we should seek to suffer and sacrifice because Jesus did ("If Jesus jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you?"), one person spoke of being mindful of the things of the world, the ways in which we use them, and walking lightly on the earth. I've come across only one other post about how to work with your heart.
I've been working on the ways of my heart (and mouth), and how to best to use them. I believe that there is enough suffering and sacrifice in the world without courting more, and that if we were to engage with one another as mindfully and heartily as we pay attention to how much water, gas, electricity, packaging material we use, how Jesus suffered, or how tax breaks are handed out, we would find ourselves whistling deep happiness in 4-pt harmony on the corner of Fruitful Road and Love Parkway.
Toward this end, for the last week I've been reciting the mantra "Aham Prema", a Sanskrit mantra which translates "I Am Divine Love" - in bed, on airplanes, at the beauty parlor, on my zafu - wherever I find myself with a couple of minutes to spare. (See last weeks post for the whole scoop on Aham Prema). One thing I left out last week about Aham Prema is that it also means "You Are Divine Love." This has always made sense to me, because I admit no essential distinctions between humans. I try to love myself enough to love you, and to love you enough to be able to love myself (and vice versa). Some of us are better at one than the other, but spiritual growth requires the ability to soften to both self and neighbor and engage reality on its own terms. Different realities require different responses. The pattern that worked yesterday may be useless today. It may even have the opposite effect, which may be good, or not. Pay attention. Don't try to cling to the ground you think you know. It doesn't exist.
I lead a lot of retreats and the one constant through all of them is that when people arrive, they are exhausted. It's the kind of exhaustion that manifests itself as aches and pains, facial tension, skepticism, and so much more. I'm not immune to these things either, but I consciously work at them every day (exercise, remembering to smile, spiritual practice, good food, 8 hours of sleep, and the occasional red wine, dark chocolate and a nap.
We run through our lives apace as events jostle us, and we harden ourselves so we don't really feel the effects. We think there's nothing we can do except work ourselves into the ground, often finishing, or arriving at the last minute. It's as if we think we are the only one standing between the success and failure of whatever enterprise we are working on. It's hard to be soft, flexible and open when going through life so highly defended. Contrary to popular belief, there are effects even if you do not feel those effects. As a matter of fact, if you don't feel them, you might look around and see what you are causing.
Here's a modest proposal: You can only go as fast as you can love.
That might cause suffering and sacrifice enough this Lent.
This week, my focus is on Aham Prema as "You are divine love". For the remainder of Lent, I'll recite Aham Prema as both I am divine love and you are divine love, because ultimately, the object and the subject of love are one.
I've been listening to and reading the news from the earthquake in Japan and the rest of the world. I don't know anyone who hasn't been. I've been praying about it all. Many people are praying about it all. Some are giving of their time and talent, as they say. Can't have too much time and talent. That's what gets things built, and rebuilt after all hell has broken loose.
There have also been lots of folks still musing about the season of Lent, even though I thought my last post was quite clear (Forget Lent). Much of this Lenten musing has taken the form of the ode to sacrifice and suffering. There are the usual run-of-the-mill "I'm giving up..." articles. I'm pleased to report that chocolate, smoking, profanity, cheese, sugar, and fat seem to be holding their own as the go-to choices. Some bloggers think we're in danger of losing the season unless we embrace sacrifice and suffering the way they've always done it ("OMG we've lost Lent!"). Another asserted that we should seek to suffer and sacrifice because Jesus did ("If Jesus jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge, would you?"), one person spoke of being mindful of the things of the world, the ways in which we use them, and walking lightly on the earth. I've come across only one other post about how to work with your heart.
I've been working on the ways of my heart (and mouth), and how to best to use them. I believe that there is enough suffering and sacrifice in the world without courting more, and that if we were to engage with one another as mindfully and heartily as we pay attention to how much water, gas, electricity, packaging material we use, how Jesus suffered, or how tax breaks are handed out, we would find ourselves whistling deep happiness in 4-pt harmony on the corner of Fruitful Road and Love Parkway.
Toward this end, for the last week I've been reciting the mantra "Aham Prema", a Sanskrit mantra which translates "I Am Divine Love" - in bed, on airplanes, at the beauty parlor, on my zafu - wherever I find myself with a couple of minutes to spare. (See last weeks post for the whole scoop on Aham Prema). One thing I left out last week about Aham Prema is that it also means "You Are Divine Love." This has always made sense to me, because I admit no essential distinctions between humans. I try to love myself enough to love you, and to love you enough to be able to love myself (and vice versa). Some of us are better at one than the other, but spiritual growth requires the ability to soften to both self and neighbor and engage reality on its own terms. Different realities require different responses. The pattern that worked yesterday may be useless today. It may even have the opposite effect, which may be good, or not. Pay attention. Don't try to cling to the ground you think you know. It doesn't exist.
I lead a lot of retreats and the one constant through all of them is that when people arrive, they are exhausted. It's the kind of exhaustion that manifests itself as aches and pains, facial tension, skepticism, and so much more. I'm not immune to these things either, but I consciously work at them every day (exercise, remembering to smile, spiritual practice, good food, 8 hours of sleep, and the occasional red wine, dark chocolate and a nap.
We run through our lives apace as events jostle us, and we harden ourselves so we don't really feel the effects. We think there's nothing we can do except work ourselves into the ground, often finishing, or arriving at the last minute. It's as if we think we are the only one standing between the success and failure of whatever enterprise we are working on. It's hard to be soft, flexible and open when going through life so highly defended. Contrary to popular belief, there are effects even if you do not feel those effects. As a matter of fact, if you don't feel them, you might look around and see what you are causing.
Here's a modest proposal: You can only go as fast as you can love.
That might cause suffering and sacrifice enough this Lent.
This week, my focus is on Aham Prema as "You are divine love". For the remainder of Lent, I'll recite Aham Prema as both I am divine love and you are divine love, because ultimately, the object and the subject of love are one.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Forget Lent: Practice Being Love
Nurturing love, kindness, and compassion are The Big Deal, but for most of us, the intention to try to create love and live a happy life while we're here is often put aside due to "the nature of things," which (as Edmund Burke once wrote) is a sturdy adversary. The nature of things causes us to forget. In his book Present Moment, Wonderful Moment, Thich Nhat Hanh writes:
"We often become so busy that we forget what we are doing or even who we are. I know someone who says he even forgets to breathe! We forget to look at the people we love and to appreciate them, until it is too late. Even when we have some leisure time, we don't know how to get in touch with what is going on inside and outside of ourselves."
We also forget that we are beloved of God. Lately I've been thinking again about how I might BE love, and the thought popped into my mind that with love, you can only become it by doing it. In order to be one with love, we must love. I was reminded of a mantra: Aham Prema (ah-HAHM PREH-mah) that means simply "I am divine love." The power of Aham Prema lies in its ability to take away our doubts and defenses and let us rest in nurturing love, light, kindness and compassion. Aham Prema is a mantra that we can hold in our hearts all the way through life's lessons. It softens our armor and helps us grow.
Let Aham Prema accompany you for the next forty days. Try whispering it to yourself 108 times once or twice a day, and see what you notice about your life and the people in it. It won't cost a dime and it takes less than five minutes. As you recite Aham Prema, try to accept that you are divine love (no small task, but true nonetheless); look at it in your cupped hands, hold the divine in your hands, hold it in your heart, breathe the divine love that's already in your heart. There is no place for anything but Aham Prema. Say to yourself "I am divine love." Try to grasp that. Know that you already embody this love for others. Know that you are divine love just the way you are.
108 Aham Prema's on the wall: (Ah-HAHM PREH-mah)
Aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema,
aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema.
Tag, you're it.
"We often become so busy that we forget what we are doing or even who we are. I know someone who says he even forgets to breathe! We forget to look at the people we love and to appreciate them, until it is too late. Even when we have some leisure time, we don't know how to get in touch with what is going on inside and outside of ourselves."
We also forget that we are beloved of God. Lately I've been thinking again about how I might BE love, and the thought popped into my mind that with love, you can only become it by doing it. In order to be one with love, we must love. I was reminded of a mantra: Aham Prema (ah-HAHM PREH-mah) that means simply "I am divine love." The power of Aham Prema lies in its ability to take away our doubts and defenses and let us rest in nurturing love, light, kindness and compassion. Aham Prema is a mantra that we can hold in our hearts all the way through life's lessons. It softens our armor and helps us grow.
Let Aham Prema accompany you for the next forty days. Try whispering it to yourself 108 times once or twice a day, and see what you notice about your life and the people in it. It won't cost a dime and it takes less than five minutes. As you recite Aham Prema, try to accept that you are divine love (no small task, but true nonetheless); look at it in your cupped hands, hold the divine in your hands, hold it in your heart, breathe the divine love that's already in your heart. There is no place for anything but Aham Prema. Say to yourself "I am divine love." Try to grasp that. Know that you already embody this love for others. Know that you are divine love just the way you are.
108 Aham Prema's on the wall: (Ah-HAHM PREH-mah)
Aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema,
aham prema, aham prema, aham prema, aham prema.
Tag, you're it.
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