It's a Family Affair

 "Let me respectfully remind you, life & death are of supreme importance.  
Time passes swiftly and opportunity is lost.  Each of us must strive to awaken.  Awaken!  Take heed, do not squander your lives."

--A traditional Zen Exhortation recited at the end of Evening Service 
at Zen Mountain Monastery

Today I meditated under a tree about a hundred yards or so from where I saw my eldest daughter Persephone born in 1972--and witnessed the death of my father in 1975.  Though I sat in formal meditation for only ten minutes or so (my son Joshua was walking nearby with a sleeping Granddaughter Amelia in the her stroller), I had the opportunity, at least momentarily, to once again open my heart to the Profound Immensity of Life/Death in a way that most folks in this society probably haven't allowed themselves to consider possible--or even desirable. 

I'm incredibly grateful to the teachers, teachings and practices that have allowed me to experience even the tears that flowed during those moments as an outright blessing, to feel again the utter Preciousness of Life.

Afterwards, Josh, sleeping Amelia and I continued walking the grounds of what was once St. Therese Hospital (Now owned by Vista Health System) in Waukegan, IL talking about our rather tumultuous family history.  It's been that sort of week.

All too often within families, the death of a loved one is accompanied by a great deal of "unfinished business".  Rarely is there a willingness and ability to engage in the type of deep, open, and honest communication about our lives--and our deaths--that could serve to heal the inevitable wounds inflicted and incurred in the course of a normal life.  In a society that, in the main, has lost sight of the Sacred possibilities of Forgiveness and True Human Love, the grief of the ultimate loss is often compounded by the anguish of guilt and regret.

When I read Who Dies?: An Investigation of Conscious Living, Conscious Dying by Stephen Levine years ago, I took the first step toward approaching my death intentionally, as an integral part of my life and practice.  Although I had already had a set of "peak experiences" that had dissolved a fundamental fear of death, I saw pretty clearly that there was a lot of work to be done within my own family.  It was going to take a deepening of my own personal practice and a lot of communication with my loved ones before I would be able to "let go" and take that last breath "in peace". 

A couple of years later, I was fortunate enough to attend "Healing Into Life and Death", a five day retreat presented by Stephen and Ondrea Levine.  The two of them were masterful in creating a sense of community among the 300 or so folks gathered there, about a third of whom were terminally ill. Amidst the hours of meditation, guided meditations, interpersonal exercises, talks and discussions, I first touched an essential form of forgiveness: the ability to forgive myself for the countless ways that I had caused harm to those I loved, intentionally or unintentionally.

As time has gone on it has, once again, become clear that even the deepest experiences are ephemeral as I've stumbled and bumbled ahead in life.  Yet,  although I still blunder quite regularly--and I can and do feel moments of guilt and shame emerge and dissolve--it is also quite clear that something had shifted, something had healed.  That experience has enabled me to more quickly extend and accept forgiveness.  This has helped me to slowly and carefully engage in the needed conversations over the years with those I love. 

The work, of course, isn't done.  I don't suspect it will be until I do take that last breath. 

But, at this point, that seems fair enough.

Wake Up and Smell the Coffee!

Walking with ease and with peace of mind on the earth 

is a wonderful miracle.  Some people say that only walking on burning coals or walking on spikes or on water are miracles, but I find that simply walking on the earth is a miracle.     

---Thich Nhat Hahn

Several times in the past couple of months, I've had the opportunity to be present as someone experienced walking meditation for the first time.  After sharing a few words about the various forms of walking meditation, I introduced to each the "slow motion" walking meditation practiced in South Asian Buddhism* that I had learned at Insight Meditation Society years ago.  We then took a stroll across the glistening wooden floors of the studio at Community Yoga from one wall to the other, turned, and returned.  It only took a few minutes.

Each time, I then had the pleasure of meeting the eyes of someone who had experienced, at least for a moment, what Suzuki Roshi may have described as "Beginners Mind."  There was a childlike sense of wonder in their eyes.  It was obvious that each had touched a form of Mindfulness.  They had been Present to Life in a fuller and more complete way. 

The spiritual teacher George Gurdjieff claimed that most humans are "sleepwalking" through their lives.  I think this is a particularly appropriate metaphor for the distracted, semi-conscious manner in which we are prone to scurry through our lives.  Having been trained in our families and schools to focus our awareness primarily on our thoughts in a materialistic society that stresses speed, production, and the accumulation of goods and status, all too often we move ahead without being fully aware of the totality of the present moment.  Lost in our thoughts, much of the wondrous sea of sensations that constitute our lives each moment remain beneath the level of consciousness.  We are "sleepwalking" as we move ahead. 

The good news is that it doesn't have to be this way.  We each have the ability to awaken. It can happen this very moment.

Although the slow motion technique that we've shared in Monday Morning Mindfulness for a few moments during some of our sessions is a useful and powerful technique, there are many other forms of walking meditation available. 

Thich Nhat Hahn's Walking Meditation is a classic text and there are a number of YouTube videos available of his instructions. For those who identify with the Christian tradition, former Trappist Monk, James Finley, Ph.D. devotes a chapter to walking meditation in his book Christian Meditation. There is also an interesting Christian approach shared by Eric Munro on the web at Christian Walking Meditation.  

In actuality, any time we are walking we have the opportunity to notice the sensations of our feet as they meet the ground, feel our legs as they move through space.  Each time we walk from here to "there" (which, of course, is just another here), we have the opportunity to notice how our thoughts carry us away from the experience of our body breathing and moving through space. Each moment as we move to close the space between us and our planned destination, we have the opportunity to expand our awareness to include the sounds we are hearing, to actually be in touch with the incredible rainbow of colors that our eyes are seeing in any one moment, to be aware of  the multitude of fragrances that surrounds us.  It can happen in the majesty of a hike along the seashore. It can happen as we move along the concrete sidewalk downtown.

With each step we have the opportunity to Be Mindful of the Ongoing Miracle of Life itself!

How cool is that? 

*The term Buddha actually means "Awakened One".  

 

Suffering Is Not Enough

"Life is filled with suffering, but it is also filled with many wonders, like the blue sky, the sunshine, the eyes of a baby. To suffer is not enough. We must also be in touch with the wonders of life. 

They are within us and all around us, everywhere, any time."

---Thich Nhat Hanh, "Suffering is Not Enough"

                     

I awoke this morning well aware that the weather service is predicting 90+° temperatures for today--and for several days running.  When I first saw the prediction a couple of days ago, I found myself cringing a bit with images of being very uncomfortable running through my mind and body.  I noticed that again this morning when I surfed to the National Weather Service local weather page.  I would even say that there was a sense of "dread" that emerged.

Then I turned to the immediate sensations I was experiencing beyond those thoughts and emotions.

Right now, a cool gentle breeze is blowing through the window.  I can feel the coolness along the skin of my arms and legs as I sit here.  I can hear the twitterings and songs of birds out the window to my right and out the front window to my left.  The gentle whirring of the laptop and it's warmth against my lap feel comforting as I sit here with my back propped up against the pillows.  I am quite comfortable at the moment.  Life actually feels quite wonderful.

Since my fingers are still on the keyboard and I chose to sit here and write, I guess I have to again turn my thoughts to this afternoon.  (I did think of just stopping after "Life actually feels quite wonderful" and hitting send but that seemed like cheating--although that would have had a certain Zen panache to it.)

What honestly emerges for me as I bring this afternooon's weather prediction to mind again is actually a great curiosity! I actually have no idea what it is going to really feel like.

I can rely on a cluster of memories to imagine it a certain way, but if I examine those memories carefully there isn't much substance there.  Looking at it carefully, it seems that the thoughts about it, the imaginings, are what operate to lock this afternoon's weather into place as something that will be uncomfortable, dreadful.

If I cut loose of those thoughts, all that remains are my fingers on the keyboard, my breath, the coolness of the breeze against my skin,  the sensations of my body against the bed, the sound of the birds twittering outside the window--and a feeling of wonder and curiosity floating in the great spaciousness of Life as it is.

How cool is that?

Where Two or Three Are Gathered......

MMM will meet on Memorial Day, Monday, May 27.  

I'm grateful that others, including my partner Betsy, plan to make it that day to sit quietly in peace for awhile before the traditional Memorial Day celebrations emerge later in the day with parades, marching bands, military honor guards and 21 gun salutes. 

It seems appropriate to spend a bit of time with Tonglen practice again.

Memorial Day is a deeply poignant occasion for me.  As a child living in the aftermath of WWII, I raised on movies that glorified the military in a society that periodically celebrated those who served and generally revered the "ultimate sacrifice" of those who were killed. I guess things haven't changed all that much. Violence and warfare are still a part of our world.

As well as the sorrow I feel for the innocent victims of this senseless reality, my heart still sometimes burns like a hot coal as I bring to mind images of the courage and valor and sacrifice displayed by the countless men and women who, to this very day, place themselves in harms way in the belief that warfare is somehow necessary. 

Although I can easily get into my head here to make an impassioned case for the non-violence taught by Jesus and Buddha,  I'll leave that to my alter ego, Brother Lefty Smith, S.O.B.* to do at some point.  I want to stay closer to the Heart of the matter.

I guess that is precisely why Tonglen practice is has been so helpful at this stage of the journey.  It seems to help me open my heart to embrace the Reality of Life--not only as I would choose it to be--but as it is.  I want to keep my heart open to those soldiers, too.

It's pretty clear that there is boundless beauty and joy to be experienced as we open more fully to the Sacredness of Life.  It is also clear that an incredible amount of grief can emerge as our heart opens to the immensity of the Human Condition.  Although most of us are trained to shy away from feeling that, as our meditation practice develops we can move gently toward opening to what Chogyam Trungpa calls "the genuine heart of sadness" more readily.  We begin to see that what breaks our heart also is that which heals our hearts. 

It may not seem that just sitting down for a few moments to focus our awareness on the process of breathing in and breathing out has much to do with all this, but it does. 

At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it--or not! 

See you Monday!

One Love,

Lance