AH!--Once Again.

Dear MMM Folks,

Sitting, gazing out the window at gray skies and wet earth here in Barre, I'm feeling quite grateful for the rains.  I'm also in touch with that "Appreciative Heart" that Jane mentioned last week in MMM.  

The bee balm alongside Betsy's kitchen door had shown signs of distress, with leaves beginning to curl, as I arrived here in Barre on Tuesday.  (My  Beloved Buddhy had sounded weak and still sick on the telephone on Tuesday morning and I abbreviated my "Greenfield Workweek" and the Noon Sit with #OMG! to beat feet to the bus.) 

Now, a couple of days later,  adorned in raindrops, the bee balm stands firm and crisp and Betsy is seemingly full of piss and vinegar once again.  A hint of sunshine just played through the clouds, as I wrote this.

Sitting here at the laptop, I'm profoundly aware that the AH I feel at the moment doesn't just emerge from the crispness of the bee balms and Betsy's smile this morning. That "AH" isn't dependent on just experiencing the "high side" of the ongoing dance of life. A splendid morning?! This, too, will change.  

Saved by the Bell!

Dear MMM Folks,

Well--finally--here is the link to the Meditation Timer that we used on Monday:   

http://www.onlinemeditationtimer.com/ 

I still haven't been able to burglarize the back office to free up my zafu and bell --even after sacrificing a number of paper clips and plastic cards and a couple of hours of my time on the altar of trying to prove how handy I am--and, of course, to save money.  So, my steady companions for quite awhile have been cellmates in a lock down--and I've had some interesting moments watching, once again, how deeply engrained patterns can become--and the resultant disquiet that emerges when "things change." (Which, of course, they always do.)

In the two settings where I'm meditating with others often these days, I usually function in the role of Timekeeper--or "Jikido" as they called it at Zen Mountain Monastery.  That was my final service role at the monastery before I launched off after six months, convinced that my path led elsewhere--although I had no clue where that might be.

As I explained Monday, my assignment as the Evening Jikido at ZMM involved trying not to trip over my robes as I tapped or banged or clacked or rang a collection of noisemakers in an attempt to make the appropriate number of appropriate sounds at the appropriate times to signal the various transitions of the evening service. These days it's much simpler.  I strike the bell to start the period.  I strike the bell at the agreed upon time to end the period.  Piece of cake, right?

You would think that having the on-line meditation bell replace me last Monday would have made life even easier.  Set the laptop, settle into Sitting...breathe....relax...hunker down and just meditate! 

It all started off fine.  Free at last! 

And then..........

Meandering Mindfully,,,,,,

Here's a piece I wrote for the Intro to Meditation class last week:

Dear MMM Folks,

A number of times this week I found myself thinking about last week's session.  In each instance I noticed the intention to reach out and "review" a couple of things.  (That's what I get the big bucks for, right?)

One image that came to mind repeatedly in the days that followed MMM was Stephanie's playful assertion that "she was bad" because she hadn't meditated during the week. My heart glowed as I remembered the kind and compassionate laughter that emerged in the moment that followed. It felt like we all could relate--on many levels--to her comment.

In the meandering discussion that emerged during that day's "check in",  I never got back to fully express what that moment had brought to mind. So days later, here it is:

As best I can see it, the Practice isn't necessarily about going the whole nine yards and creating a special time and place to meditate each day.  It's really not about forcing ourselves to fight the patterns of our life,  to be "good" as opposed to being "bad".  The Practice is just deciding to gently move towards noticing-- as fully as we can--our Life as it emerges in any one moment.

Although cultivating a  formal practice is wonderful and I encourage each of you to create the space and time in your lives to Sit (or Stand or Lie Down or Walk or......), Mindfulness can and does occur in and of itself at any moment.  It can emerge as just taking one conscious breath in the midst of the day.   It can emerge as we open the door and feel the doorknob in our hand; noticing the texture of the metal, feeling the motion of our arms and legs as we pass through the Portal.

Mindfulness can and will certainly emerge as we Sit in "formal" meditation at a home altar with incense burning.  Yet it also emerges at the moment that we notice the warmth of the sun on the back of our necks as we walk down the street. It can happen as we remember to actually feel our feet on the earth as we walk in the park, yet it may "just happen" as we meet the eyes of a friend--or a stranger--and feel the Connection made.  Those simple moments of Presence are available to each of us--with or without our intention.  We may not even notice that we notice!  (When I first read that in the Genjokoan, a classic Zen text, I thought "Damn! How cool is that?)

So, if that's the case, why bother?  Why Practice?  That is a classic theme that is reflected through a great many Zen koans and stories.

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"Imagine all the people living life in Peace..."

               --John Lennon, 

"Imagine"    

My partner Betsy came into the kitchen with tears in her eyes yesterday morning.  "Oh that poor boy.  He had such a sweet face.  What happened to him?  Such a tortured soul!!"

I quickly learned that she, like many of us, had been on the web following the events in Boston, trying to make sense of the senseless acts of violence that had erupted.  Like most of us, she a felt a deep grief as the drama unfolded.  Like few of us, perhaps, she felt a deep compassion--not only for the victims of the horror--but for the two tortured souls that somehow believed that violence was the "right thing to do." The "poor boy" of her lament, was the younger brother, Dzhokar Tsarnaev.  She had just seen his photograph.

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