Mindfulness, Meditation, and Mission

“I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love

will have the final word in reality... Man must evolve for all conflict 

a method that rejects revenge, aggression, and retaliation.  

The foundation of such a method is love.” 

-- Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

“When we are mindful, deeply in touch with the present moment,
our understanding of what is going on deepens, and we begin to be
filled with acceptance, joy, peace and love.”
― Thích Nhất Hạnh

(I began working on this post last week, and life being life, it took me until now to get back to it. )

 

I awoke this morning stiff and sore, a bit out of sorts.  Even though Springtime is whispering in our ears, Mother Nature continues to hold on tight.  Here in Western Massachusetts, the world emerged from single digit temperatures overnight to pummel us with sleet and snow this afternoon.

Although, I seem to have recovered from a respiratory bug that slammed me last week, my nearly 80 year old body, with its failing eyesight, bevy of inflammations, dental difficulties, and achy joints still needs a lot of rest, maintenance time, and careful attention.  

As I plodded slowly toward the bathroom,  the whole world -- inner and outer -- seemed shrouded in gray tones of doom and gloom. 

 

Images of my inevitable, if not imminent, demise floated through my mind as I limped along.  Through the wonders of modern medical science, I've already beat the genetic odds of my lineage. My dad was dead at 61.  His dad was gone at 57.  Although I no longer fear death, the thought of leaving this plane of existence still mostly sucks. 

 

There were times in my life that beginning the day in this frame of mind on a frigid late winter morning would have thrown me for a loop.  A dark mood and dark thoughts would have wrapped themselves around one another and held onto one another tightly -- sometimes for hours, sometimes for days.  Sometimes for weeks at a time.  

In fact, there were times in my life that I spiraled down into deep depression, seemingly unbearable anxiety, and total burn-out.

That was then.  This is now.

This morning, as I have done most mornings for decades,  I brushed my teeth, washed my face. took a deep breath, and felt my heart open and expand. Then, with compassion and curiosity, I looked my mirror image straight in the eye for a moment or two.  Then, I wobbled to the altar.  There, I spent a few moments in a sequence of ritual prayers and bows.  Then, as I've done for decades, I lowered myself to the zafu and Simply Sat Still. 

Within moments, it was different.

There in my little corner of the world, with my body comfortable and upright on the meditation cushion, with eyes open and unfocused, I floated on the breath of Practice.  In the expansive gaze of open awareness, I relaxed and watched as ripples of thought, images, feelings, and bodily sensations emerged and dissipated along the surface of a clear, calm, vast pool of bright spacious awareness.  Simply Sitting Still, no longer grasping or pushing away what I was experiencing, I breathed, relaxed, softened, and opened.  

Soon, I was aware that a lot of old coots were feeling the aches and pains and sadness of aging, as well.  I knew that these types of bodily pain, these emotional clouds of doom and gloom are being experienced by countless other human beings -- at that very moment.  Breathing in,  I relaxed and opened to the pain. 

As I have learned to do in Tonglen Practice, I allowed the painful bodily sensations and emotional energies to emerge and breathed them directly into my heart chakra.  There, in my heart of hearts, the gracious spaciousness of Open Awareness welcomed this sea of sensations.  There, the One Love that exists within and beyond all that is embraced, and was embraced, merging with my sincere aspiration for our collective healing.  Breath by breath, the dark ripples of painful energy began to dissipate and dissolve.  I stayed with it, simply breathing through the sensations.  

Soon, with each out breath, I was able to radiate my heartfelt aspirations for peace, liberation, and healing.  At times, images of individuals would arise in my mind's eye and variations of the traditional metta meditations emerged as thoughts (May we (he, she, they, etc.) be free from suffering, May we be at peace, etc.)  At times, I visualized this energy as light radiating in all directions.  

After awhile, I returned to Simply Sitting Still.  Present to each moment's experience, an open, loving Presence emerged.

If At First You Don't Succeed

Tonglen Practice has been part of my meditation toolkit since 2006.  After two decades it continues to evolve.  Since the thrust of individual and collective conditioning in this hyper capitalist age propels most of us to reflexively reject painful experiences, the habit to do so is strong.  Creating new neural pathways through Tonglen has taken, commitment, effort, time -- and patience.  Lots of patience.    

Sometimes tears will emerge as I practice Tonglen.  This, I've found, is actually a good thing.  I've come to trust those tears.  They are the body's natural response to the grief that is inherent in the human condition.  Released, the tears wash away the hardness of heart that I'd been taught to wear as a shield against the painful aspects of life.  As tears flow, the armoring around the heart melts.  

As this happens, there are times that a deep sense of gratitude and wonder emerges within the tears. There, a boundless and mysterious One Love emerges to embrace both grief and gratitude.  In those moments, there is nothing left to do.  Simply being present is enough.

Yet, the impact of our conditioning, individual and collective, is formidable.  Over the years, I've found that, at times, life will serve up situations that produce emotional energies that are quite overwhelming.   Having been deeply touched by the teachings of Pema Chodron (through her writings and on-line presence), I've come to see that being gentle with myself is crucial. There are times that the most skillful approach is to drop Tonglen and focus my attention elsewhere.  

Sometimes, I will zero in on the sights and sounds of the space around me. Sometimes, I will tighten my focus by returning to counting my breaths, a mantra, or metta recitations.  Sometimes, I need to get off my tail and go outside for a good walk.

And yes, there are those times. Sometimes it is best to just drop the whole project and cue up a movie or a sitcom and sit down with a bowl of popcorn!    

Yet, this morning, I persisted.  Strong emotions, emerged.  Then, without a clear decision, Tonglen Practice emerged.  Then, after a time, it receded.  I Simply Sat Still in the heart of open awareness again.  There, the sights and sounds of traffic outside the window moved within a still pool of silence so deep that the bottom disappeared from view.  

Breathing in.  Breathing out.  I floated on effortlessly. The hour flew by.  The closing bells on my iPhone rang.  I recited the Four Bodhisattva Vows as I have done for decades -- and rose to face the day.

But, that was then, this is now.  

In Real Time 

Here I am, sitting at this old Mac Laptop watching letters and words tap dance across the screen.  Remembering, I take a couple of deep conscious breaths. I sit up a bit straighter, relax my shoulders, feel my feel on the floor.  The center of my attention returns to my heart.  I come to my senses.  Settling into a fuller awareness of the sights and sounds and sensations and gracious spaciousness of Life as it emerges moment to moment, I relax and open.  

At this point, words seem to just appear and find their way through my fingers into the screen.  It's quite mysterious really. Being present, I feel a Presence. It glows with crystalline clarity.  Here, the Sacred and the Ordinary dance hand in hand. 

So, now what?

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Tonglen Practice: Taking It to Heart

 

“You take it all in. You let the pain of the world touch your heart 

and you turn it into compassion. It is said that 

in difficult times, it is only bodhichitta that heals.” 

-- The Sixteenth Gyalwa Karmapa quoted by Pema Chodron, 

When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times 

 

"So, when we are willing, intentionally, with this kind of attitude, 

this vision, to breathe in the suffering, we are able to transform it 

easily and naturally; it doesn't take a major effort on our part, 

other than allow it."

-- Norman Fischer, Training in Compassion: 

Zen Teachings on the Practice of Lojong

A grin comes to my face as I remember her voice on the telephone.

"That's backwards isn't it? You meant breathe in the good and send out the bad, right?" she said, not unkindly. Being gracious, she was making a space for me to realize that my aging brain cells had gone dyslexic.

I had been chatting with an old friend for first time in quite awhile, talking about my continued wonder at the Lojong Teachings of Tibetan Buddhism in general, and Tonglen Practice in particular.  

After a moment's pause, to relax and reconnect with the basic openness of mind -- and to make sure that I really hadn't verbally zigged when I had intended to zag -- I continued.

"No, I actually did mean that I shift my attention from the thoughts running through my head to the feelings coursing through my body.  Then I breathe into my heart the difficult and challenging darker emotions that had emerged.  There in my heart of hearts I get in touch with the reality that countless people are feeling this same form of energy.  My heart naturally responds with the heartfelt aspiration that we all be free of such suffering.  Then I send out a sense of relief and healing with each exhalation.  It's in with the "bad." Out with "good.".

She paused for awhile (perhaps, to relax and reconnect with a basic openness herself? LOL)  Then she simply replied, "Oh?" 

She didn't sound convinced.

Hers was not an uncommon response.  Raised in a highly individualistic and materialistic society, the basic premise of this ancient Tibetan Buddhist system of mind training seems counterintuitive.  Instead of always grasping at the "good" and pushing away the "bad," with Tonglen Practice we choose to open our hearts to the entire gamut of human emotions.   Seems a bit crazy, right? It most certainly is. 

Crazy like a fox.

Transforming ALL Experience into the Path of Awakening

Lojong is an intricate system of training the heart and mind that emerged in Tibetan Buddhism in the 11th and 12 centuries. Grounded in the Mahayana doctrine of Two Truths, it's goal is to cultivate the wisdom and compassion needed to embrace both the conventional truth of appearances and absolute truth of Reality in our own lives.  In Lojong, all experiences in our lives are seen as an opportunity to Practice.

Lojong's framework of 59 training aphorisms are supported by two meditation practices: basic sitting meditation (Shamatha-Vippasyana) and Tonglen.  I've seen that, over time, these three tools have changed my day to day life dramatically. With Practice, I've been able to navigate the inevitable ups and downs of life with increasing ease, kindness, clarity and compassion.  With time, energy, effort and patience, I've been able to be Present more wholeheartedly, moment by moment, to Life.

To wit:

As I sit here and pay attention, I become aware of a clear, bright, vast, and open sense of spaciousness beyond the tunnel vision of my thoughts.  

As I pause and expand my attention to become aware of my body, my breath, and the sights and sounds of the room that I am sitting in, and to the world outside the window, there a palpable shift in my consciousness.  As I come into the present moment more fully,  I can feel an expansiveness throughout my body. I can relax and rest in its embrace. 

Sitting here, breathing in, breathing out,  I'm aware of the dance of my fingers along the surface of this keyboard.  I see that milliseconds before the fingers move, thoughts emerge instantaneously, seemingly from nowhere in particular.  Although, these thoughts are most certainly prompted by my intention to write this blog post, they appear to be emerging by themselves, quite mysteriously.  

Western science claims that these thoughts are epiphenoma, merely brain secretions of some sort, Yet, at this moment.  I experience a connection to something much grander than that.  My heart feels that connection.  I have come to trust that feeling.  A sense of wonder and joy emerges from a vast, luminous Presence that embraces me as I embrace it.   Aware of my feet on the floor, the clicking contact of my fingers on the keyboard, the soft humming of the computer, the wind outside the window, the vast, open spaciousness of a clear and boundless awareness, I feel the Presence of the Sacred.

But, I digress -- sort of.
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#@&*%!!?

"I vow to understand living beings and their suffering, 

to cultivate compassion and loving kindness,
and to practice joy and equanimity."

Thich Nhat Hanh, from "Refuge Poem"

"Give me an F.....

Give me a U.............."

Country Joe McDonald, Introduction to "I Feel Like I'm Fixin' To Die Rag"

Country Joe McDonald

I swear.  Sometimes a lot.  It can be embarrassing. 

These days, I usually (not always) refrain from allowing four letter words to roll out of my mouth when I'm upset.  

 

Yet, the closer I get to a spontaneous expression of awe and joy and gratitude for the Absolute Wonder of Life, the more likely am I to launch forth an "F bomb" -- usually in its forms as an adjective or adverb.   (For example: How F***ing cool is that?)

I guess, more than anything, this tendency to be somewhat foul-mouthed shows my true colors.  I am the prototypical product of the 1960's.  I entered high school in 1960 and graduated from college in 1969.

To be sure, the language that I used freely on the streets on the south side of Chicago as a child was certainly ladden with a few expletives that couldn't be used at home or in school.  Yet, it was fairly tame stuff.   The F word was beyond the pale. Even in high school the word stung my ears.  Yet, by the late sixties, a whole bunch of us were using it quite freely.  Depending on the context, it functioned as a noun, a verb, an adjective, or an adverb.  

Although I began practicing yoga and meditation during my senior year of college in 1969, becoming "spiritual" didn't seem to effect the language that had become part of my normal vocabulary.  Moments of joy and exhilaration  could and would still elicit an exuberant "Far F***ing Out!"

Telling It Like It Is

In the "youth culture" of that era, a whole bunch of us came to see what Jesus and Martin Luther King, Jr. and countless others had seen: War is blasphemous.  Using napalm is obscene.  Launching F bombs?  Not so much.  

In fact, "colorful" language, like colorful clothing, long hair,  and psychotropic drugs, was an integral part of the youth culture.  We were intent on breaking the monochromatic norms of a mainstream society that worshiped the false gods of white supremacy, materialism, competition, environmental degradation and warfare.  We rejected the norms of a "polite society" that was praising Jesus in one breath and supporting the extermination of people halfway around the planet with the other.  

Killing innocent children to "preserve our way of life?"  I mean, like WTF!?

We chose, instead,  to try to pursue a life based on the values of freedom, peace and love.  "Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven" wasn't just something that folks were supposed to recite in church on Sunday.  We believed we were supposed to be living the life of love and compassion that Jesus lived.

And sometimes that just didn't look or sound like we had learned in "polite society." Like the medieval Zen monk Guishan, we knew that kicking over the water jug and stomping out of the temple was sometimes the appropriate move. Rather than live a life of hypocritical piety, we were intent on having some serious fun.   

Country Joe McDonald's infamous call and response introduction to "I Feel Like I'm Fixin' to Die Rag" (Give me an F -- Give me a U..., etc.) exhibited the spirit of the times.  His"foul mouth" not only spiced things up, it got to the heart of the matter.  The iconoclastic spirit of Zen was in the air.  As one of my guiding lights, the late Hippy Guru, Stephen Gaskin, put it at the time: "We're out to raise hell -- in the Bodhisattvic sense." 
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For Unto Us a Child is Born

 

Twelve years ago last Tuesday, Keaton Izzy was born.  It seems like her Incarnation into this dimension was only yesterday -- AND that she has been here forever.  As miraculous today as she was then, she is a on-going reminder of the sacred nature of life on earth.  As Christmas Day 2025 approaches, I thought that I would again share the post I wrote the week of her birth. 
One Love,
Lance 

December 19, 2013

"Each human being is a multiplicity of miracles.  Eyes that see thousands of colors, shapes, and forms; ears that hear a bee flying or a thunderclap; a brain that ponders a speck of dust as easily as the entire cosmos; a heart that beats in rhythm with the heartbeat of all beings."

-- Thich Nhat Hanh 

"Every child born is a living Buddha.  Some of them only get to be a living Buddha for a moment, because nobody believes it."

 -- Stephan Gaskin 

Spiritual Midwifery by Ina May Gaskin

Originally scheduled for a Christmas Day arrival, Keaton Izzy made her debut appearance on planet Earth in the wee hours of Monday morning.  Nine days "early," she arrived in plenty of time to avoid a head to head competition with Baby Jesus.  

 
Sporting all ten fingers and toes, sparkling with Buddhanature, her birth -- like all births -- is another obvious affirmation of the Miraculous.  As she peered from one face to another, following the sound of our voices, I could feel her Presence as pure, unadulterated Life Force.  She was Love Incarnate. 

Enraptured, my heart opened to the Sacred Mystery as I held her in my arms.  Then, at a certain point, a profound sadness emerged.  

As a child, the Christmas season always brought with it a certain sadness.  Something seemed more than slightly askew.  The idea that the holidays were a special time of mirth and merriment didn't jive with the reality of my life.  Often separated from one -- or both -- of my parents, living in poverty, all those tidings of comfort and joy didn't land well for me.  As the years rolled by, I imagined it was just the chaos and uncertainty of my own childhood that left me feeling sad.  I thought I was just "out of the loop."  

As the years have rolled by,  I have thought that less and less.  Even when the conditions of my life had improved, what I saw in the world around me, the scurry and stress of Christmas shopping, the drunken revelers, the television news full of the violence and warfare, made "peace on earth" and "goodwill toward men"seem like ancient and empty promises. 

Yet, in my heart of hearts, something still whispers to me.   

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