The Grave Matter of Life and Death

Let me respectfully remind you:

Life and death are of supreme importance.

Time swiftly passes by and opportunity is lost.

Each of us should strive to awaken.

 Awaken!  Take heed!  

Do not squander your life

-- The Zen Evening Gatha

Daniel Atilio "Danny" Cruz
July 30, 1992 - December 13, 2017

I think it is clear.  Danny Cruz, who blessed us with his committed Presence in the Wednesday Mindfulness Circle, did not squander his life. 

Although the Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy that ultimately ended his precious life at age 25 may have limited the freedom of his body, Danny was the quintessential Free Spirit.  His creativity, energy, revolutionary zeal, and passion for life appeared to be limitless.  

Through his copious artwork, through his unbridled musical expression with the Flaming Dragons of Middle Earth, and, perhaps even more importantly,  through his many encounters with members of his beloved community, Danny's upbeat exuberance and good will were boundless.  

It touched all those knew him.  

Chogyam Trungpa once described the Crazy Wisdom that is revered in that school of Tibetan Buddhism as "an innocent state of mind that has the quality of early morning—fresh, sparkling, and completely awake. " 

The ten thousand volt sparkle I often saw in Danny's eyes comes to mind.

The fresh, unfiltered honesty and the immensity of Danny's goodwill towards others were extraordinary.  Although many of us experienced shock at the suddenness of his death, and grieve the loss of his Presence on this plane of existence, the Generosity of Spirit that Danny exuded freely transcends his death.  

It still touches us.  

Although I, admittedly, rolled my eyes when Danny described himself as a Zen Master in our first encounter in the Wednesday Mindfulness Circle, over these past years I came to appreciate the unique nature of his Mastery.   It manifested in his ability to stay positive in the midst of circumstances that would have crushed the spirits of many.  It manifested in his unwavering aspiration -- and unparalleled ability -- to Connect with those around him.  It manifested in his ability to rise, again and again, to the defense of anyone or anything that had been criticized in his Presence.  

Like any Zen Teacher worth his salt, Danny ceaselessly challenged the concepts and attachments that serve to separate us from ourselves, from one another, and from the Miracle of the Present Moment.  I learned a lot with Danny in the Circle.

Jai Guru Dev Danny Jai 

Healing Into Life and Death

There is no doubt about it:  Losing a loved one is extremely painful.   Yet, taking the time and making the space to mourn can be a deep and richly empowering Practice.  As one of my teacher's once said "honest grief is a noble thing."  I'm grateful that it has allowed me to maintain the Connection with Danny beyond his physical death.
 

The process of opening the heart fully to the death of a loved one can be a Holy Experience, connecting us to the One Love that embraces both Life and Death.  It is there we are Healed.  This is, I believe, exactly what Yogi Jesus was getting at when he proclaimed "Blessed be those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."  
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The Attitude of Gratitude

Since childhood, holidays have been difficult for me.  I always intuited that something Spiritual was hovering nearby, beckoning.  Yet it remained hidden in the shadows cast by the dazzling lights and the hollowness of the widespread, often drunken, merriment.  A child senses these things.  The disparity between "the way it's 'spozed to be" and "the way it is" was striking.

I suppose that it was no surprise that the approach of Thanksgiving a couple of weeks ago brought my identical twin brother Lefty to the computer to share his thoughts on the traditional American holiday, in a post entitled "Thanks -- but No Thanks." It seems he couldn't face the traditional Thanksgiving mythology without pointing to the stark reality of our collective history.  He then headed out to Plymouth to participate in the 48th National Day of Mourning, sponsored by the United American Indians of New England.  (You can find his thoughts before he headed out there at Rambling On with Brother Lefty Smith, S.O.B.*).

I suppose I could expand on his offering to go on a rant about the lack of spiritual values present amidst the commercial insanity of Black Friday as well.

But I won't.  

Although gazing fearlessly at the darkness in our world (and in ourselves) is crucial, sometimes it is wise to change the channel.  Rather than incessantly spin our wheels in the mud of our own mayhem and misery, it can be quite helpful at times to consciously turn our gaze toward those things that light up our lives.  As Thich Nhat Hanh once said, "suffering is not enough." 

At this moment, I am grateful to acknowledge this as True.  No matter what the darkness brings, there are ALWAYS good things to acknowledge.  I wrote about the Saving Grace of Gratitude during the Holiday Season back in 2013. I've reworked it a bit here, and would like to share it with you again today.
One Love,
Lance

Originally published November 29, 2013 (Revised)  

"A hundred times a day I remind myself that my inner and outer life depends on the labors of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself 

in order to give in the measure as I have received

and am still receiving.”  

-- Albert Einstein

 "Be grateful to everyone."

-- The 13th slogan of the Lojong Trainings

I'm sometimes amazed -- and quite often amused -- as I observe my heart/mind merrily floating down the stream of consciousness.   

Today, I stared for quite awhile at the blank New Post screen here on this old Mac laptop.   Trying to connect with a theme for this week's musings, I just sat -- and waited.

Not unlike the Soto Zen practice of Shikantaza,  I held my torso upright, aware of my body, my breath, and an open field of spacious awareness.  Poised here with a precise, but relaxed attention, hands on the home row of the laptop instead of the formal zazen mudra, I waited -- profoundly curious about what might emerge.  

Breathing in.  Breathing out...

Blank screen.

Breathing in.  Breathing out... 

Blank screen.

Then, in time, the word "gratitude" appeared in my mind's ear and I was off and running -- or surfing, rather.  Wandering around the worldwide web for awhile, I traced the word "gratitude" along various strands of thought, trying all the while not to loose the original thread. 

And Then...!

ZOUNDS!  

I'm now sitting here with my chest heaving, tears rolling down my cheeks.  As the tears continue to flow, images of the crooner/actor Bing Crosby in his role as freakin' Father O'Malley play across the screen at My Mind's Memory Lane Theater.  (I'm sure this dates me as the septuagenarian I am. LOL)
 
 
WTF? 

How in the world did I end up here?  

Breathing in.  Breathing out...
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Visible to the Naked Eye

“If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man 

as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narrow chinks of his cavern.”
― William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell 

“Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes. All is a miracle.”
― Thich Nhat Hanh

The world is shrouded in fog this morning. Although there is still a whisper of deep red in the burning bush and a muted yellow orange in the maple across High Street from my perch here at the Weldon Hotel, the sky has disappeared.

There was a time when a grey, gloomy morning like this would invariably send my spirits spiraling downward.  Confined to the tunnel vision of my own thoughts and feelings, I would become oblivious to the Ongoing Miracle we are always immersed in.  I'd get really depressed. 

Today, that didn't happen. I blame the Practice for this turn of events. 

Although I would be dashed between the rocks and hard places of my own unattended childhood trauma and dysfunctional conditioning many times over the years, I was fortunate.  The Collective Kensho of the late 60's and my own Peek Experience of Infinite Perfection in 1972 gave me a strong enough jolt of the Real Deal to get serious about a spiritual practice.  Although there were some fleeting dry spells, I've mediated regularly for a long time.

Now, at age 74,  it seems I've found a way to Not-Do Depression so much.  although I am no stranger to sadness, the Practice has transformed my relationship to emotional energy.  The inner belief structures and narratives that could operate to lock it into my current reality just can't seem get a toe-hold anymore.  Instead, the story lines arise and disappear within the Gracious Spaciousness of Awareness that is readily accessible much of the time.  Of course, I put my butt on the zafu for at least an hour most days, and try to take an entire day of mindful practice at least once a month.

The Theory and the Practice

So, here's the Deal.
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A Bit Touched

 "When you begin to touch your heart or let your heart be touched, you begin to discover that it's bottomless, that it doesn’t have any resolution, that this heart is huge, vast, and limitless. You begin to discover how much warmth and gentleness is there, as well as how much space.”
― Pema Chödrön

 “Real fearlessness is the product of tenderness. It comes from letting the world tickle your heart, your raw and beautiful heart. You are willing to open up, without resistance or shyness, and face the world. You are willing to share your heart with others.”
― Chögyam Trungpa

I suppose in some people's eyes, I'm definitely "a bit touched in the head."  

These days, I spend much of my time meditating, studying spiritual texts, and comparing notes about matters of spirit, heart, and mind with as many folks as I can.  

I even let slip in some settings that I've felt the Presence of, sometimes even heard the Voice of,  what some folks may call God (or Tao or Buddha or Allah or Krishna or a myriad other names for the Groundless Ground of Being that will always dance beyond our ability to name it.) 

Over the years I've learned to be a a bit more discrete about yakking about these experiences, though.

  I try not to mention these Openings where it is likely to lead to an embarrassed silence, furtive glances toward the nearest exit -- or maybe even somebody dialing 911!  (Although I say that lightly, in all seriousness this has been an unfortunate reality for all too many of my fellow mystics in a society that doesn't understand such things.)

Looking back, I guess I've always been a bit touched.  Often dismissed as a dreamer or an idealist, sometimes with obvious scorn by those who considered themselves to be"realists," I had dedicated my life to serve "all sentient beings" before I even heard that phrase or knew of the Bodhisattva Vow.  It just seemed to make sense to be kind and giving rather than engage in the selfishness and cruelty I saw in the world around me.

For much of my life, I've stumbled ahead in a sometimes quite bizarre, sometimes crazed effort to understand what the Real Deal was well enough to lend a helping hand where I could.  I've often crashed and burned in the process, blowing a fuse trying, all too desperately,  to serve.  I hadn't truly appreciated how the natural inclinations to seek approval and security and defend myself from anything unpleasant had operated since childhood to distort my vision and "harden my heart"  with layers and layers of frozen childhood trauma, sadness, fear and anger.  Hell, I always thought I was a real softy!  

Little did I know.

Live and Learn

Although my journey continues to involve a variety of practices emerging from several spiritual traditions, for the past decade one of the most useful tools in my personal roadside service toolkit has been Tonglen Practice as taught by American Buddhist nun Pema Chodron and others.  Like many of us 'back in the day," having experienced a number of compelling visions and rapturous openings of my heart chakra, I was convinced of the existence of a boundless and mysterious energy that I now call One Love.  Yet, in the day to day reality of my life I discovered that actually being a loving person wasn't all that easy.  Blinded by the subconscious patterns of a deeply wounded ego, immersed in the energies of a patently neurotic society, much the time I could be a real jerk, failing miserably to even help myself stay free from harm.  Even after experiencing the Infinite Grace of Our Oneness, I still didn't have much of a clue about the sheath of armoring around my heart that distanced me from others -- and, more importantly, from myself.  

Although I was blessed to be able to attend retreats along the way with Stephen and Ondrea Levine and Joanna Macy that provided opportunities to access and melt away some of that armoring, years later, I still stumble ahead noticing daily how much remains.  Now 71 years old, I've realized that there is no end point.  Opening the Heart is a Ceaseless Practice.  

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