Particularly happy

I am particularly happy in a fleeting way, or maybe a transitory way. These words aren't capturing the sentiment. I'm happy in a way that notices the peculiarly transitory nature of our existence. So while yes, I'm sure the happiness will be fleeting, it feels permanent in a heretofore unknown way. This happiness is a silent laugh at the child playing in the fountain, shivering, but with no plans to get out of the water. Silence and the quality of a traveller (and this is what I don't have a word for) - perhaps these are the revealers of such happiness. Somehow I think Chuant Tzu is correct - that to release our grip on this life reveals the ultimate humor, seriousness, friendship, happiness, and accomplishment. Shhhhh, Jonathan...

Hey brother, why do you want me to talk?

Hey brother, why do you want me to talk? Talk and talk and the real things get lost. Talk and talk and things get out of hand. Why not stop talking and think? If you meet someone good, listen a little, speak; If you meet someone bad, clench up like a fist. Talking with a wise man is a great reward. Talking with a fool? A waste. Kabir says: A pot makes noise if it's half full, But fill it to the brim - no sound. -Kabir ------ Note to my readers: they jus changed the blogger interface and it doesn't work as well with iPhone. That's why these posts keep not having spaces. I'll try to fix on a desktop later, or maybe they will new me to it.

Sitting

My brother, welcome back It's been too long Sitting ripped through me today. I don't want to do it, And yet, I love it. Looking forward to A day in your Presence And my own. Shhh. The words only distract.

A thoroughly unmodern charge

I charge you with love's authority, if you give this book to someone else, warn them (as I warn you) to take the time to read it thoroughly. For it is very possible that certain chapters do not stand by themselves but require the explanation given in other chapters to complete their meaning. I fear lest a person read only some parts and quickly fall into error. To avoid a blunder like this, I beg you and anyone else reading this book, for love's sake, to do as I ask.

As for worldly gossips, flatterers, the scrupulous, tale-bearers, busybodies, and the hypercritical, I would just as soon they never laid eyes on this book. I had no intention of writing for them and prefer that they do not meddle with it. This applies, also, to the merely curious, educated or not. They may be good people by the standards of the active life, but this book is not suited to their needs.

However, there are some presently engaged in the active life who are being prepared by grace to grasp the message of this book. I am thinking of those who feel the mysterious action of the Spirit in their inmost being stirring them to love. I do not say that they continually feel this stirring, as experienced contemplatives do, but now and again they taste something of contemplative love in the very core of their being. Should such folk read this book, I believe they will be greatly encouraged and assured.

----------------------
I don't know if the hot springs or such an introduction feels better.

Life on Salinger

I have an urge to write with a dirty mouth that only JD Salinger can remind me of. Why is he haunting me? Did he write my life, or am I living his writings? I was handed Catcher in the Rye in high school, and there was my entire being. There is and was something comforting in finding such a testament to those feelings. Who could explain my frustration, my anger, my judgement in those days? Only Salinger it seems, and not that he really explained or justified it, but the simple act of marking it down was a divine (and I don't use that word flippantly) grace. When the statues and statutes of the world make no sense, it grates on a man's soul - why am I the freak? What's wrong with me? Where is the man who makes sense? Still not forthcoming, one finds the same frustrations in JD Salinger. Knowing how he lived his life, perhaps I shouldn't take him as a guru, not that I was planning to, but something stops and makes you think when someone suddenly illuminates and brings such dramatic and respectful attention to problems you thought were your own unique living curse. It's humbling. What the hell am I living? What are these questions? This divine discontent?

Franny and Zooey is hardly less foul-mouthed than Catcher, yet it's filled with a more mature discontent. I would call it a religious book; it is certainly about the seeking and the inherently judgmental and egotistical pursuit that is the spiritual life, or rather what begins to build the foundation of the spiritual life. Did Jesus lack such discontent? Buddha certainly didn't. He walked out on his family, starting a seven year quest that ended with him sitting under his tree until he gained enlightenment OR his bones scattered. What but discontent could lead to such a decision? And the teaching starts with, Life is suffering (unsatisfactoriness). I think of Jesus sending tables flying through the temple. And yet, this journey ends with him silently accepting all. Kabir: "How humble is God? I wept when I knew..."

So Franny and Zooey is far truer a testament to the spiritual quest, as I have experienced it than any I am told in popular culture or the churches. Jesus came to baptize with fire. He's wielding a god damned ax. I use that profanity and blasphemy with all the angst and frustration I've known since I was a young boy dreaming of fighting with God. And do you know what? I no longer fear the punishment of a wrathful God for using it. Do you know why? Because He placed me into this paradox. He put these desires within me. He gave me the knowledge and judgment to question teachings about Him, until there is only a silent quivering. What sort of God could place me into such straits and then hypocritically punish me for the effects He caused?

Some would talk to me about agency, free will, damnation, salvation... But as I begin to see God as I was taught to see Him - the immutable, the I AM, the omnipresent - there is little room for a mistake in creation. Semantic arguments offer profuse explanation of the possibility of damnation in our small little world. But in such a small world, musn't damnation be proportionately small? If Jesus took on the sins of the world and suffered three days, how minuscule must my be judgment be? If He made me, then my works are His.

"Concerning the Gods, there are those who deny the very existence of the Godhead; others say that it exists, but neither bestirs nor concerns itself nor has forethought for anything. A third party attribute to it existence and forethought, but only for great and heavenly matters, not for anything that is on earth. A fourth party admit things on earth as well as heaven, but only in general, and not with respect to each individual. A fifth, of whom were Ulysses and Socrates, are those that cry: 'I move not without Thy knowledge.'" -Epictetus

JD Salinger as a birthday gift

"I'm sick of not having the courage to be an absolute nobody."

-Franny and Zooey

A little Taoism

I got a new book in the mail yesterday, and I think I'm going to take this one camping. It is The Way of Chuang Tzu, by Thomas Merton. Somehow it makes sense to take that book over all the others, because it doesn't talk about doing anything. It is about men being men, little else. A passage:

________________

Prince Wen Hui's cook

Was cutting up an ox.

Out went a hand,

Down went a shoulder,

He planted a foot,

He pressed with a knee,

The ox fell apart

With a whisper,

The bright cleaver murmured

Like a gentle wind.

Rhythm! Timing!

Like a sacred dance,

Like "The Mulberry Grove,"

Like ancient harmonies!

"Good work!" the Prince exclaimed,

"Your method is faultless!"

"Method?" said the cook

Laying aside his cleaver,

"What I follow is Tao

Beyond all methods!"

"When I first began

To cut up oxen

I would see before me

The whole ox

All in one mass.

"After three years

I no longer saw this mass.

I saw the distinctions.

"But now, I see nothing

With the eye. My whole being

Apprehends.

My sense are idle. The spirit

Free to work without plan

Follows its own instinct

Guided by natural line,

By the secret opening, the hidden space,

My cleaver finds its own way.

I cut through a joint, chop no bone.

"A good cook needs a new chopper

Once a year - he cuts.

A poor cook needs a new one

Every month - he hacks!

"I have used this same cleaver

Nineteen years

It has cut up

A thousand oxen.

It's edge is as keen

As if newly sharpened.

"There are spaces in the joints;

The blade is thin and keen:

When this thinness

Finds that space

There is all the room you need!

It goes like a breeze!

Hence I have this cleaver nineteen years

As if newly sharpened!

"True, there are sometimes

Tough joints. I feel them coming,

I slow down, I watch closely,

Hold back, barely move the blade,

And whump! the part falls away

Landing like a clod of earth.

"Then I withdraw the blade,

I stand still

And let the joy of the work

Sink in.

I clean the blade

And put it away."

Prince Wan Hui said,

"This is it! My cook has shown me

How I ought to live

My own life!"

A great yogi (Mira)

In my travels I spent time with a great yogi.

Once he said to me,

"Become so still you hear the blood flowing

through your veins."

One night as I sat in quiet,

I seemed on the verge of entering a world inside so vast

I know it is the source of

all of

us.

Writing from Lillian

Here's the contents of an email that I thought I'd share (with permission):

_________________________

Oh the stories of my mind--they are ravenous, they will gather all the brambles as they tumble down the mountain. Better stop them at their very beginning. Better to know the mind that creates the illusion. Better to detach yourself from the false-feel-good-realities. Better to commit to a new love, a new way of being, a new day filled with a deep love, a deep trust in my inner knowing. Best to use your crow's nest and watch it as it goes down, easier to choose your response that way.

Recognize what needs to change to help you along this path of love, muster the courage to change, and the wisdom to know when the time has come--all of this conducted in serenity, in peace and calm because the mind is unattached to the outcomes set forth by the fear mind--the small mind. The intellect wants justification for being here--why me? Why do I possess this knowing? What do I do with it when I arrive, while I'm arriving? My ego feels alone--lonely--a bit upset at the dwindling numbers of those around me committing to this flame and fire--committing to another reality without the knowing of what lies ahead.

To cultivate the self-trust--the trust in my strength without relying on others around me affirming my power, my light, my ability, is a very foreign place to be. I'm used to not moving until someone else says go. I'm used to suspending my intuition when someone else says differently.

I do not have the time to play these games anymore--the miniscule energy leakers of the small fear mind add up. I need all the energy I can handle to sit still when the battles arrive--to be the warrior.

This path is a solitary one I feel. A part of me knows this to be truth, the other part is holding on to my attachments of people around me. The more I lessen attachments to those around and expectations that they will remain, the higher I fly. A tethered bird might as well be clipped of its wings. Although I am hesitant to say, due to thoughts becoming form--a part of me thinks that I would rather be by myself than with others, existing in illusory relationships based off of attachments and fear.

I want those around me to soar to their heights, which means I must unclip the tether I have attached to them, as I wish them to do the same for me.

I have a feeling that someday, when I have reached the heights of my being, I will have the choice to break free, or to come back down to aid in the liberation of others--all in this lifetime. When the end of my physical body is near, I will enter into the final gathering of energy to break free beyond this world, to leave once and for all.

I have a lot of work to do. I have a lot of sitting with my mind. I have a lot of stillness and slowness to cultivate. There are many battles yet to come.

I am resting in my deepest strength. Roots digging to the core, immovable to all that serves the illusion. I must march on in courage because the life I have always feared losing wasn't the true life after all. The fire is getting hotter. As more things melt around me, I notice that which has stayed--nature and its elements, music and its infinite forms of expression, and certain people whose souls seem to be effortlessly gliding next to mine.

I am committed to spiritual reality, to transformation, to the burning away of the veil without the knowledge of what lies beyond.

In the meantime, I'll chop wood, carry water, play music, and laugh hysterically at the divine paradox of this strange, strange life

Camping

I'm going to go camping at Anchor Dam, WY. I'm planning to stay out there for nearly 60 days. The tai chi is nearing completion. About another week's worth of hard work should solidify it in my body, and I can take it into the wilderness to practice.

Yesterday we went to look at the campsite - there is actually a developed campsite, but the wind was ripping through the little canyon. Since the dam hardly works, there isn't much water. The dust and silt was getting lifted by the winds. It looked like a desert sandstorm. We braved this wind and dust for a short walk, eyeing the site from afar. At one point, I walked into a little saddleback where I got my first good view of the campsite. At this point a huge gust of wind ripped through the saddleback, and I was filled with an ominous feeling. Looking at the small grove of trees in the distance where I'm planning to spend almost two months alone filled me with a subtle terror. Not really because of the bears or snakes, because I plan to take all possible precautions, but the thought of being there alone, meditating and practicing Tai Chi.

I've been considering whether I should bring some books, and I'm leaning towards no. Emerson says of many a man, "He knew nothing better to do, so he read." And this is why I would take books - as a distraction. Anything to keep my mind off the things my mind most wants (does not want) to contemplate. So yes, the terror I felt is something akin to many of my earlier Vipassana courses around the second day, when you start asking yourself what you've gotten into.

All that being said, I feel ready for this retreat, and I do have a specific purpose to practice Tai Chi and commune with nature and myself. I've been trying to decide whether to set a more specific intention for spiritual affairs. It's hard to set something, when I still feel so restless inside. I think of the following lines of Kabir:

There are seasons in the mind,
great currents and winds move there,

the true yogi ties a rein to them; a power plant
he becomes.

From Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind

A zen master once said, "To go eastward one mile is to go westward one mile.". This is vital freedom. We should acquire this kind of perfect freedom.

-DT Suzuki

Shhh... Stop squirming.

The lesson is forcibly taught by these observations, that our life might be much easier and simpler than we make it; that the world might be a happier place than it is; that there is no need of struggles, convulsions, and despairs, of the wringing of the hands and the gnashing of the teeth; that we miscreate our own evils.

-Emerson (Spiritual Laws)

_______________

Only love honors God.

That sounds as if it could be true.

But surely everything He

made must be

perfect.

-St. Francis of Assisi

___________________

No one lives outside the walls of this sacred place, existence.

The holy water, I need it upon my eyes: it is you, dear, you - each form.

What mother would lose her infant - and we are that to God,

never lost from His gaze are we? Every cry of the heart

is attended by light's own arms.

You cannot wander anywhere that will not aid you.

Anything you can touch - God brought it into

the classroom of your mind.

Differences exist, but not in the city of love.

Thus my vows and yours, I know they are the same.

I have just peeled the skin from the potato

and you are still contemplating its worth,

sweetheart; indeed there are wonderful nutrients in all,

for God made everything.

You joined our community at birth.

With your Father being who He is, what do

the world's scales know of your precious value.

The priest and the prostitute - they weigh the same before the Son's

immaculate being,

but who can bear that truth and freedom,

so a wise man adulterated the

scriptures;

every wise man knows this.

My soul's face has revealed its beauty to me;

Why was it shy so long, didn't it know how this made me suffer

and weep?

A different game He plays with His close ones.

God tells us truths you would not believe,

for most everyone needs to limit His compassion; concepts of

right and wrong preserve the golden seed

until one of God's friends come along and tend your body

like a divine bride.

The Holy sent out a surveyor to find the limits of its compassion

and being.

God knows a divine frustration whenever He acts like that,

for the infinite has

no walls.

Why not tease Him about this?

Why not accept the freedom of what it means

for our Lord to see us

as Himself.

So magnificently sovereign is our Lover; never say,

"On the other side of this river a different king rules."

For how could that be true - for nothing can oppose Infinite strength.

No one lives outside the walls of this sacred place, existence.

The holy water my soul's brow needs is unity.

Love opened my eye and I was cleansed

by the purity of each

form.

-St Francis of Assisi

____________________

Today, like every other day,

we wake up empty and frightened.

Don't open the door to the study and begin reading.

Take down a musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.

There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

-Rumi

A vase - Rabia

I am always holding a priceless vase in my hands.

If you asked me about the deeper truths

of the path and I told you

the answers,

it would be like handing sacred relics to you.

But most have their hands tied

behind their

back;

that is, most are not free of events their eyes have seen

and their ears have heard

and their bodies have felt.

Most cannot focus their abilities

in the present, and

migt drop what

I said.

So I'll wait; I don't mind waiting until

your love for all

makes luminous

the now.

Emerson on Swedenborg

I really like the following paragraph. It sums up the way I am beginning to believe in truth and the spiritual state of a man. As I currently understand them, it cuts to the heart of the philosophies underlying teachings of Buddha and Christ.

______________________

That metempsychosis which is familiar in the old mythology of the Greeks, collected in Ovid, and in the Indian Transmigration, and is there objective, or really takes place in bodies by alien will, -- in Swedenborg's mind, has a more philosophic character. It is subjective, or depends entirely on the thought of the person. All things in the universe arrange themselves to each person anew, according to his ruling love. Man is such as his affection and thought are. Man is man by virtue of willing, not by virtue of knowing and understanding. As he is, so he sees. The marriages of the world are broken up. Interiors associate all in the spiritual world. Whatever the angels looked upon was to them celestial. Each Satan appears to himself a man; to those as bad as he, a comely man; to the purified, a heap of carrion. Nothing can resist states: every thing gravitates: like will to like: what we call poetic justice takes effect on the spot. We have come into a world which is a living poem. Every thing is as I am. Bird and beast is not bird and beast, but emanation and effluvia of the minds and wills of men there present. Every one makes his own house and state. The ghosts are tormented with the fear of death, and cannot remember that they have died. They who are in evil and falsehood are afraid of all others. Such as have deprived themselves of charity, wander and flee: the societies which they approach discover their quality, and drive them away. The covetous seem to themselves to be abiding in cells where their money is deposited, and these to be infested with mice. They who place who merit in good works seem to themselves to cut wood. "I asked such, if they were not wearied? They replied, that they have not yet done work enough to merit heaven."

Rumi from Lillian

I want the kind of grace from God
that when it hits
I won't get off the floor for days. And when finally I
do stagger into a semblance of poise
I will still need a cane and shoulder to help me walk,
and I will need great patience from any who try
to decipher my slurred speech.

You should forget about knowing the Friend
unless you are willing to kiss the world with
great abandon.

Locked like a pair of dogs openly making love in the streets,
impervious to shouts and pails of water being thrown
and glares from eyes that pass.

Can you become such an
ego-less
king?

Tales of a magic monastery

I got a new book in the mail today. It's a really lovely little gem, written by Theophane the Monk. He used to be a monk in the monastery that I've recently written. I guess he also studied some Buddhism. It's the kind of book... I shouldn't say that. I've never seen a book like this, and I don't think I've ever reacted to a book quite like this. When I read the Gospels, there is recognition and awe at such teachings. I smile at the complex simplicity of it all, but I fear the all-too-clear calling. When I read the Buddhist scriptures, I feel utmost joy because I see a clear and true path. When I read Hafiz, I just revel in his words and absurdities, and with Rumi, I feel as though the dust is cleared from my eyes. With this little book by Theophane, I felt like I had come across my own child. I felt protective and a deep love and happiness. These are the things you feel around your own child, and he probably isn't that awe-inspiring to others. Just the same, this book is written with playfulness, humility, and love - not polish. I don't know who I would recommend it to. But enough talk! Here are two stories.

______________

A visit from the Buddha

Why did I visit the Magic Monastery? Well, I'm a monk myself, and the strangest thing happened in my monastery. We had a visit from the Buddha. We prepared for it, and gave him a very warm, though solemn, welcome. He stayed overnight, but he slipped away very early in the morning. When the monks woke up, they found graffiti all over the cloister walls. Imagine! And do you know what he wrote? One word - TRIVIA - TRIVIA - TRIVIA - all over the place.

Well we were in a rage. But then when I quieted down I looked abou and realized, "Yes, it's true." So much of what I saw was trivia, and most of what I heard. But what is worse, when I closed my eyes, all inside was trivia. For several weeks this was my experience, and my efforts to rectify it just made it worse. I left my monastery and headed for the Magic Monastery.

The Brother showed me around. First, the Hall of Laughter. Everything fed the flame of laughter, big things and small, sacred, solemn, inconsequential. Only laughter there.

Next, the Room of Sorrow. The very essence of bitter tears- those of the bereaved mother, the lonely, depressed. Only sorrow here.

Now the Hall of Words. Words upon words, spoken and written. Alone they must have had some sense, but all together - total confusion. I cried out, "Stop! Stop!" but I was only adding words to words.

Next the great Hall of Silence. Here there is no time.

He took me finally to the Hall of Treasures. "Take anything you want." he whispered.

I chose the heart of Jesus, and with it I'm heading back to my monastery.

________________

What am I leaving out?

I knew there were many interesting sights, but I didn't want any more of the LITTLE answers. I wanted the big answer. So I asked the guestmaster to show me to the house of the Christian God.

I sat myself down, quite willing to wait for the big answer. I remained silent all day, far into the night. I looked Him in the eye. I guess He was looking me in the eye. Late, late at night, I seemed to hear a voice, "What are you leaving out?" Was it my imagination? Soon it was all around me, whispering, roaring, "What are you leaving out? WHAT ARE YOU LEAVING OUT?"

Was I cracking up? I managed to get to my feet and head for the door. I guess I wanted the comfort of a human face or a human voice. Nearby was the corridor where some of the monks live. I knocked on one cell.

"What do you want?" came a sleepy voice?

"What am I leaving out?"

"Me," he answered.

I went to the next door.

"What do you want?"

"What am I leaving out?"

"Me."

A third cell, a fourth, all the same.

I thought to myself, "They're all stuck on themselves." I left the building in disgust. Just then the sun was coming up. I had never spoken to the sun before, but I found myself pleading, "What am I leaving out?"

The sun too answered, "Me." That finished me.

I threw myself flat on the ground. Then the earth said, "ME."

Things said, things heard

I like to listen to people talk, and to hear the things they really say. Some things remain hidden from even the speaker. And yet, so much of ourselves gets said, if we can really listen with our hearts. I remember a radio interview with a researcher (if someone has the info on this, please share) who was studying short blocks of time with married couples. They would sit in an interview room and talk for 10 or 15 minutes. The conversation could be about any mundane thing, and the researchers would film and analyze it. They would then predict whether the couple would still be together in 10 years or so. The results were highly accurate, around 80%. And what's even more surprising, the results shot up to 95% when the conversation was lengthened to 30 minutes.

I don't mean to imply that the following is some deep revelation; it is a separate thought, an anecdote I wanted to share. (and on a side note, I think the above was an excellent use of the semicolon... a subtle and misunderstood piece of punctuation) Jake, Sandy and I were talking about the theory of 10,000 hours til mastery of a given task. Sandy is sure she has 10,000 of Tai Chi, and Jake is sure he must be a master of three things - carrying water, chopping wood, and shoveling manure. Furthermore, when Jake was visiting a shaman in South America, he asked what one is to do when they reach the state of ultimate one-ness or non-duality. The reply: chop wood and haul water.

_________________

since feeling is first

who pays any attention

to the syntax of things

will never wholly kiss you; 

 wholly to be a fool 

while Spring is in the world 

 my blood approves, 

and kisses are a far better fate 

than wisdom 

lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry 

--the best gesture of my brain is less than 

your eyelids' flutter which says 

we are for each other: then 

laugh, leaning back in my arms 

for life's not a paragraph 

 And death i think is no parenthesis

 
(ee cummings)

Catatonic

The movie K-PAX ends with the main character surmising that a person in a catatonic state may be able to hear everything that is said, but remain unwilling or unable to respond. He does not see that he describes himself.

I am standing on my porch beneath a cloud-covered moon. There is darkness and haze about. I've been working on something called cloud hands - a sideward stepping, rotating move that would deflect strikes.

The past two days have found me pondering how we can take Jesus at anything less than his word. Am I the only one who finds this a monstrous task? Am I the only one who reads his words and says to myself, "yes, but he must account for..." I believe that every "but" or "and" added to his words amounts to an obstruction of the light he was shining. His words must be taken at face value, or what are they? I don't want to hear commentaries, inauthenticity, or half-hearted testimonies. I want to see the man who can wield the ax Christ has brought. Perhaps it's time to seek the Trappists. For 9 or 10 years, I have been thinking of going to them. I respected advice not to go as a young man, but my desire persists.

---------

Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment? Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they? Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?

And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?

Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. (Matthew 6:25-34)

Don't die again (Hafiz)

I am a man

Who knows the ten thousand positions of

Divine love.

I can tell by the light in your eyes

That you are still most familiar

With the few earthly ones,

But would not a good father

Instruct all his heirs

Toward that path that will someday

Deeply satisfy?

This world is a treacherous place

And will surely slay and drown the lazy.

The only life raft here is love

And the Name.

Say it brother,

O, say the divine Name, dear sister

Silently as you walk.

Don't die again

With that holy ruby mine inside

Still unclaimed

When you could be swinging

A golden pick with

Each

Step.

Bright stars

I walked home tonight under bright stars. I remember the brightest stars of my life in southern Chile one night waking up long before sunrise. It was something I could hardly imagine, and it showed why earlier peoples would have known the stars so well. Without electric lights, they shine so bright.

When I sat my last meditation course, just before coming to Wyoming, I felt like maybe I was done with Vipassana, like maybe I just wasn't on the right path. And then something happened: I settled into the meditation in a new way. In giving up, I lost the sharp edges that may have been preventing me from properly practicing all along. The course started to go smoother - certainly my smoothest one yet. So much so, I found it a little surprising by the end.

A friend sent me an astrological report just afterwards. A shift of Neptune occurred during the course, and I found it so apt with my long term goals that I'll just quote it.

As Neptune, your planetary ally, enters your sign during 2012-2026 (the last time was in the mid-1800's) your sensitivity and a deeper evolutionary reason for this sensitivity become more obvious. Not only are Pisceans naturally acutely sensitive to the collective consciousness, it goes both ways - Pisceans
have the power to shape that consciousness, to infuse it with your hope and visions. Through subtle means - perhaps thru art, music, dance or devotional works - you have an uncommon ability to bring others into different realities. We need you. Protective facades used to hide your sensitivity become too exhausting to hold up. Take a spiritual retreat sometime this year, choose this over numbing escapes. Trust, there is a new self ready to step forward.. Losses of the last couple of years required inner strength to complete a chapter in your life. Explore neglected or undeveloped skills, they may bring electricity to existing situations. A passionate longing for companions who look at life with similar depth may be satisfied thru a return to school or spiritual practice. Travel as soul quest. All will provide rudders, bringing you guiding principles and codes of living. (Gretchen Lawlor)

I still feel much as I did when I was entering Wyoming - that I don't see how my plans and dreams could be fulfilled. But one thing certainly has changed. I feel so different. Change seems to be such a subtle thing. I remember looking around after this last Vipassana course and realizing I had come a certain way, even though it has long felt like I was only paying lip service to some ideal. The fundamental teaching of the Buddha is the ever-changing state of our existence. And studying this concept as I have been, I often feel that everything really is static - that no part of me is really changing. There seems to be little hope of awakening a new self. Someone said that the greatest miracle of all is that men can change - that a devil can become a saint. Perhaps seeing this transformation as a miracle is simply a testament to our own short-sigtedness. Our humanity that refuses to believe in the actuality (and the logical consequences) of perpetual change. However the case may be, I do feel changed. I feel as though something has sprung forth with such virility and true manhood that I do stand somewhat astonished. I don't mean to be boastful. It's likely that outside eyes wouldn't recognize it, and I see in what a tenuous position I still stand, however something is changed. It would seem that it took this land to bring it out of me.

I visited Lander, WY yesterday. The "big city" offered me a ripe view of my position, for suddenly I saw coffee shops, bookstores, restaurants, things to buy, things to see... I missed my evening meditation, and observing the quality of my mind, I found turmoil. Grasping and calculation replaced the silent acceptance of the snow or the thunder of horses hooves as they race in from pasture. I don't pretend to understand what this dichotomy inside and outside means.

---------

When school and mosque and minaret

get torn down, then dervishes

can begin their community.

Not until faithfulness

turns to betrayal

and betrayal into trust

can any human being

become part of the truth.

-Rumi

Bubbling Well (quotation from an unknown source)

Bubbling Well is a balance, weight, and energetic point located in the sole of the foot, slightly in front of the arch and centered from side to side. In the meridian system it is the same as the kidney 1 point.

The importance of this point in Tai Chi practice is multi-faceted in terms of a postural and balance guide, the idea is that when the weight falls properly on this point one has aligned the weight of the upper body correctly in respect to the base of the lower body. The feeling of this correct alignment is that the foot, even of the weight bearing leg, should be soft and relaxed. It is interesting to note that most of your muscular usage (some tests say as much as 80%) is compensating for poor balance. So as our balance and posture improve, we become more efficient in our muscular use, not only conserving energy but also freeing the body to move. This is a prime contributor to the strength element in Tai Chi. The awareness of the desired feeling of the foot being soft and relaxed is one of the most important indicators of this correct body relationship.

Progress

Jake and Sandy are impressed with my progress. I'm Tai Chi Wu Style Long Form. There are two ways of performing the movements - square and round. The square, what I'm currently focusing on, includes all the movements performed in a separated or staccato manner. This means that I learn an intricate series of small movements comprising the whole. You can imagine a hip hopper or the dances by Genki Sudo. When performing the round, you begin to link together the movements to create the smooth, flowing aesthetic that we associate with Tai Chi. The main principles I am focusing on are keeping the bOdy within its natural alignments and moving the whole body together, as though it were connected like a string of pearls.

I find that Tai Chi is exposing the weaknesses I've learned to work around in dance. For years I've been working on hip action in dance, but I find so many weaknesses in my hips as I approach these unfamiliar movements. My arms and shoulders are another weak point. I like to try to move through the progression very very slowly. I find that there are stuck points in my body. Much as meditation brings up the areas that I haven't dealt with in my mind, moving slowly highlights all my stuck points. I find myself shaking and laboring in the middle of a seemingly simple maneuver. When I perform it quickly (read: poorly, blindly, naively) it seems like I can move fairly smoothly. Only when going slowly and trying to stay relaxed do all these little tensions arise.

So I'm working.

Time here has been really good. Yesterday we all went for a long walk in a big valley of BLM land. There were cows grazing and cacti. The other day I saw a mountain lion, minutes before a rancher shot him. I've been taking care of, and grooming horses. I live in a small cabin owned by Karl, Jake and Sandy's neighbor. It's got a tiny wood stove that came from the back of a caboose. It mostly keeps me warm. We eat together and I practice Tai Chi or just stare at the beauty of this place. Most days we head to town to soak in the hot springs. I've been keeping up with my meditation, and I feel very relaxed here.

Quiet (unpublished from a few days ago)

Everything is louder in Wyoming. Voices, my guitar, the stars, personalities, footsteps in the dust, a horse's snort, dinner with conversation, Tai Chi...

A car engine stands out in this land. People look up to see which of their neighbors it might be, and upon realizing, an ineveitable story follows. I always somehow thought that people living out in the country would have distant neighbors. Indeed they do, in the physical sense, but perhaps the old saying is true about neighbors and fences. Jake and Sandy have been taking care of different neighbors' horses. I've been tagging along, remembering the too short of a time that I was working with horses. Sandy says they heal - whatever ailment one might have. I'm certainly feeling a call towards them. I've got my eye on one in particular where I'm staying, bu I haven't yet worked up the guts to ask to ride. I think I'm going to ask to groom them first.

Jake and Sandy truly are Salt of the earth people. They are very giving and humble. They have taken me into their home almost entirely. They insist that I not buy any food even. Here I am with no rent and free food. Hardly anything to do with my days but go soak in the mineral springs with Jake, meditate, practice Tai Chi. There's so much to learn in Tai Chi. I was practicing the first few postures very slowly today, and I could feel all the crinks in my body. Much like meditation, I thinks I just need to work through them, which means staying present through the shaking and pain. The pain reminds me of ballet - the difference is that ballet caused that pain by stretching the the maximum, whereas Tai Chi causes it by moving slowly through a motion. One quickly realizes all the shortcuts we take in our everyday movement- how we protect certain areas by not making them move.

Alas, it's taken me about 2 days to feel comfortable here. I am quite the chameleon. Already I feel that I couldn't live out here full time, and already I don't see how I could leave.

Thermopolis, WY

Headed out of Portland, after a few months there working as a laborer with a small remodeling company. I have not spoken of certain areas of my life on this blog, and yet perhaps those very areas have had some of the largest influence on the course of my life in the past years. Two relationships ended in a year with similarities undeniable. Leaving me a writhing ball of struggles, blame, guilt, hurt. Like last year, I headed to Vipassana to find whatever it was I needed to find. And although the similarities, even the timing, seems familiar, my experience sitting was not the same. This was likely my easiest sit yet. I reached a point in the 10 days, where I thought my dedication to the practice had reached its end, and somehow in that moment a different understanding arose.

To catch up my readers a little more, after spending 4 months in meditation centers last year, I took a vow of sila, or simple morality, setting myself in a position to continue meditating two hours per day. I kept that up for a number of months, yet was unable to find balance with full time work and dance. So as I sat this year, I started to see what has changed within myself. I find less militancy in myself, and it is replaced by a firmer conviction in my views - a dedication that finds less satisfaction in proclamations and more in action. This has been a large part of the reason I have not been blogging.

The most significant change for the upcoming year symbolically occurred on the last night of the meditation course. I finally integrated all the scattered pieces of dreams I have been collecting over the past 2-3 years. I arrived in Portland with a vague desire to follow Brenda's footsteps and become a great dancer. That blind ambition lead me to question what my actual purpose has been. It has sometimes felt like a purposeless or selfish path - to be disregarding societal pressures. But as I now believe, I could not live my life as called without determining these desires.

I don't know what's going to happen now. I see a vision, and I have no idea how to accomplish it. I often feel like I'm headed in all the wrong directions. Currently I'm headed to Thermopolis, WY to study Tai Chi with someone I met last March. I am trying to put faith and confidence in the fact that I feel called here. The one thing I can say about the progress of my life over the past 5 years is that I feel myself on a path that feels right. I feel like I have been putting more and more trust in this path - living my life as I'm being called to live it. And now, leaving Portland with a little money and no plans made further than a few weeks out, I feel a sense of abandon and adventure in which faith and trust are my only supports.