"We do not [like to] live according to common sense. We don't like the critical voice; we don't like to come down." --Nothing Special: Living Zen by Charlotte Joko Beck
We like compliments; we like flattery. They make us 'feel special.' "What 's the difference between the sound of the [cooing] dove and the sound of a critical voice?" asks Joko Beck in her book, Nothing special: Living Zen. It seems many don't like the 'criticism.' We, according to Beck,"don't just hear the voice; we attach an opinion to what we hear." An opinion is not the same as a fact. Facts are easily verifiable. The sun for example, gives light; it rises and sets on a cycle. Our opinions may be formed variously, changed and reformed. They are not facts.
For many 'staying up,' as Beck calls it, is a quest to always float, like a ballet dancer suspended in air. But gravity, the fact of the matter, prevails and we return to the ground. Common sense is not something most of us admittedly indulge in. Our preferences trend more to the fictitious, the imaginary, the wishful. And we all have this same inclination. Some say that hope springs eternal. "
Yet like it or not, life consists of much unpleasant input. Seldom does life gives us just what we want..." We spend our time trying, like a juggler, to keep all the balls up in the air, to avoid a crash.
Fact may be that in most, if not all lives, illness and injury are a component of daily living. Injuries may be both mental and physical; we can't avoid disappointment, loss or grief. Seeking to 'take out some insurance' against unpleasant events, we often think the best course is to avoid any 'contact with painful reality.' Our minds spinning, racing busily ahead, we persist in trying to avoid all pain. We plan, strategize, evade, stonewall, avoid, fear, resent; we look for the best way, we think to avoid all pain.
Doing what we can to feel safe and not scary, we just want to be undisturbed. The ultimate action of the mind is to transform facts, what is neutral, and real into another state, so as to think that what disturbs, is unpleasant, challenges us, cannot get near us--not ever.
"We want to stay up in our cloud of thought about our enterprises, our schemes for self-improvement." And while self-improvement such as improving our health, losing weight, learning a new language and the like can be beneficial, the 'wheels go off the wagon,' if you will, when we add on to the improvement effort a notion or desire to protect ourselves from the ups and downs of life. Some, for example, believe that eating certain foods or engaging in rituals or other practices will keep them from diseases such as cancer, or they'll live longer.
We try to insulate ourselves in these instances from the base unpleasantness of life. It just has to be some body's fault!
The struggle between the 'sound of the cooing dove' and the rasp of reality continues to cause suffering; for as long as one attempts to avoid or imagine, life is not simply as it is. Our opinions continue to enforce our behaviors, behaviors may become demands. Demands unmet may become painful resentment, rather than sense-perceptions from our faculties. Carefully sitting with them, life as it is, allows us to observe our thoughts, to become aware of our physical senses, to listen to our body.
Gaining honesty about our opinions, our self, those around us brings clarity to the day. When we realize that there is 'nowhere to get to,' that we are already arrived in the right place, just this moment, our suffering ceases. Acceptance now takes its place.
Showing posts with label honesty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label honesty. Show all posts
Friday, April 29, 2011
Monday, October 11, 2010
Abandoning the Most Basic Fears
"Some, especially those in spiritual communities, may imagine that the jewel of life never has conflict, argument, or upset--and of how little we know or appreciate it..."
-- Nothing Special, Living Zen by Charlotte Joko Beck
-- Nothing Special, Living Zen by Charlotte Joko Beck
I have a dream," said Martin Luther King;
even if you are a minority of one, the truth is the truth; we must become the change we wish to see in the world,"
said Mahatma Gandhi;
blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God,"said Saint Matthew 5:9;
"let one see one's own acts, done and undone,"
states the Dhammapada, verse 50.
Becoming the "tomato fighters," as Charlotte Joko Beck calls them in her book, Nothing Special Living Zen, is as important as death itself. How so?
It is the fear of death itself, and of impermanence in general, that is the most basic of all our fears; it is, she writes, the basis of all our fear-based responses. When in fear, we are not free. We cannot respond in the "here-and-now" because fear most often is fueled by the past about something which has not yet occurred, and may not ever.
Oh, what a place to be--neither past nor present; caught in the dream of self, a self which is not present in this moment, living this life. Rather it is fearing, fearful of what has yet to come, fueled by memory, of past; a past which may include argument, competitiveness, conflict, pain and of course, anger. Thinking that life is necessarily free of such experiences is "a great mistake, because if we don't understand how conflict is generated, we can wreck our lives, and the lives of others. First, we need to see that we are all afraid... [there is] the effort to protect our self-image, our ego. Out of that need... comes anger. Out of anger comes conflict," writes Beck.
Yet anger and conflict are part of human existence. However they need not destroy our relations with others. To suppose that a good community, or to imagine that a "good life has no heated arguments, no disagreements; that's silly." Like neighbors she knew as a child, Beck writes that they competed, argued loudly over the produce of their summer gardens. Each proclaimed his tomatoes to be the best. And they argued some more. Yet these neighbors were friends. After the competition was over, there was no bitterness. Their example of a positive exchange, was in the end, when their loud bickering was done, that they were still friends; they still exchanged their ideas and opinions without rancor.
If we find that argument with persons close to us, connected in one way or another, leaves us bitter, angry or sad, a closer view may be in order. Arguing, clearing the air, resolving and respecting differences can be positive to practice. Suzuki wrote that he had never personally experienced "anger, pure as the wind." Perhaps because it is so frequently tinged with fears and disappointments.
Beck writes about our efforts to be honest, "Honesty is the absolute basis of our practice. But what does that mean?... Often our efforts to be honest don't come from real honesty... As long as we have any intention to be right, to show or "teach" the other person something, we should be wary. So long as our words have the slightest ego attachment, they are dishonest."
True words come from deep looking, clear seeing, and understanding. Understanding what is our anger, our fear; knowing that we must sometimes wait. Can you wait, patiently, observing all of yourself and the world around you? Can you wait attentively until the answer presents itself? Will you force an answer with false words or actions?
Waiting until the right words or actions arise in the present moment is not easy, but it is very important if we want to be peacemakers with ourselves, and others. Then we may speak with honest words, words that do not cut, that do no harm; speaking words that reflect who we are, honestly, in the clearest, best voice we have-- our own.
This article appeared here previously September 24, 2009
Monday, September 27, 2010
What You See Is Not Always Golden*
"When psychologists don the cloak of expert in areas in which they have no more authority than the average man--that is, when they invade religion, ethics, and politics--they will often be found...to be wearing very little, and sometimes nothing at all." --The Emperor's New Clothes by W.K. Kilpatrick
In the story of The Emperor's New Clothes originally as written by Hans Christian Anderson, naturally enough, is about an Emperor, a proud man, although sometimes prone to insecurity about how his subjects regard him, who values their esteem and respect above everything. Like many of his kind, he is very susceptible to flattery, as well as wanting to be able to prove his superiority over his subjects.
One day, two con men arrive in the country and realise they can exploit these weaknesses of the Emperor to their financial advantage. Disguising themselves as fashion designers, they gain access to the Emperor and tell him they are the most talented craftsmen in the land, able to create the most fashionable clothes from the finest material. The Emperor is terribly impressed by their sales pitch and immediately commissions them to create the most extravagant ceremonial robes for him to wear at the next royal procession. An event where he would be sure to be seen and admired by all his subjects.
Of course, the con men have a ruse that they know will both confound the emperor and make them rich without any real effort at all. So, when they start to "make" the fabulous robes, they invite the emperor to choose the fabric, and ingeniously show him a roll of material, apparently so fine, it is invisible to all but the most discerning clients. Now, the Emperor could not see this marvellous cloth for the simple reason that it did not exist, but could he admit it? Well, he could not, not even to himself.
Neither could the Emperors courtiers; they could see no cloth, but they were not about to admit it; if the Emperor could 'see' it, then indeed it must exist. Anyway, no one wanted to acknowledge that they lacked the discernment to be able to see such finery. The con men finish the "robes," receive their payment and sensibly disappear, never to be seen again in that part of the world. In the days leading up to the royal procession, the city was abuzz with rumours about the wondrous outfit the emperor was to wear. Expectations could not have been higher.
The Emperor, himself, was even more convinced of the reality of his robes; even though he sensed himself to be a fraud, so lacking discernment as he did, whatever uneasiness he felt was more than compensated by the high praise the robes received from all those around him. "Such fine stitching", "so beautifully cut", "what lovely colours" they chorused. The day of the procession arrived, and with full pomp and ceremony. The emperor paraded through the city - well - stark naked. The citizens, though, were not about to admit that what they could see or not, as it happened, cheered and roared their approval of the emperor and his new 'suit of clothes.' This happy, if a little undignified delusion would have continued unhindered, except for one thing, or rather one quite small child.
The child, one of the many spectators, was waiting expectantly to see the emperor and the much heralded robes, but what did he see? A naked emperor; unable to stay silent, he shouted out, "He's completely naked". Of course, those around him laughed at his 'stupidity' and told him to shut his mouth. The child insisted, "But he is, he is...". Well, to bring this tale to an end, eventually the crowd became restive; uncertain whispering broke out, as did the occasional guffaw of laughter. Then, like a punctured balloon, the pomp began to deflate as spectators, courtiers and Emperor alike realized that what the child was saying was indeed true. I don't have to describe the subsequent humiliation and deflation that followed.
It also carries another equally powerful message. After all, it is only the child who sees through the charade. The story of the Emperor's new clothes tells us that overweening pomposity and grandeur usually gets its come-uppance, and sometimes from the most unlikely source. For after all, how could a small, ordinary child be a threat to the highest authority in the land?" version by: http://www.critpsynet.freeuk.com/Baker.htm
In the Land of Oz, there lives a fairy godmother, a wicked witch , an innocent young girl and a small, tremulous man hiding behind a curtain, so as to seem to be something else. That is, until he's uncovered. In his book, The Zen of Oz, Joey Green writes, "Oz is actually governed by the Tao." Does The Wizard of Oz "touch a spiritual chord in each one of us because it has a certain Zen to it?"
Dorothy while searching for her place in the world experiences a series of mis-adventures in which at one point, in a cyclone, she is knocked unconscious. She then, we learn, enters into a mysterious, dream-like world. Starting off on a path called the Yellow Brick Road, the tale's author, Frank Lyman Baum, recounts to us, that she, along with her dog, Toto, and others encountered along the way go to find The Wizard of Oz. "The Wizard while claiming to be beneficent, rules Oz through fear and manipulation-- from behind a curtain.
He extols himself, like the Emperor in the previous story as "great and munificent," writes Green of the discovery of the Oz castles, and the little man otherwise known, but the unseen, Wizard of Oz. It is like in the previous tale again, a small, harmless creature, this time a tiny dog rather than a child who runs towards the Wizard behind the curtain, pulls it back to reveal the truth about Oz. The Wizard, now humiliated, makes amends to Dorothy and her party by promising his help to return her home.
The theme of these stories, it may be said is that one should not insult the real with the unreal. For if you do, you too will at once revel in your own nakedness.
*This article appeared here on January 14, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
What Is Self-Forgiveness?
"Self-forgiveness is a process that can co-exist when others forgive us for hurting them, or when god is at work."
Have your words or your actions at times driven others away? Have you been at times blind to your own weakness, your own limitations? "Does your reluctance to see yourself realistically prompt a disintegration of what you typically assume about yourself?" If you experience these events, then you are likely candidate for self-forgiveness, writes Beverly Flannigan in her book, Forgiving Yourself. Flannigan writes passionately about a subject which she explains is at the very core of peacemaking.
Self-forgiveness can "restore peace within a person, and when peace is restored and hatred eliminated, even self-hatred, good things can result. Self-forgiveness is a process that can co-exist when others forgive us for hurting them, or when god is at work." Yet being forgiven by others does not exclude the need for self-forgiveness. Flannigan writes that the process takes some typical twists and turns on the road to peacemaking for self and others. First self-forgiveness, "results in your being able to finally feel that you have paid your debt to those you think you have owed. Second, self-forgiveness ends the desire to continue punishing yourself for letting your flaws or mistakes hurt other people. Third, self-forgiveness requires a commitment to personal change, and once you have changed, you will feel better about yourself. Fourth, when you have changed, the things you believed about yourself and others begin to make sense again."
Once again, maybe for the first time in a long time, the ideas you hold about yourself and others coincide; your life is no longing troubling, secret or in duality. And your life's meaning fits into a clear view. The process that Flannigan outlines is not easy. To take the walk into self-forgiveness, is a way without short cuts. Many unpleasant and even painful moments arise; this is the result of honest, realistic confrontation of our own being, our functioning, life as it is. This confrontation is greater and deeper than forgiveness of another may require. We may be forgiven, but only we know the depths of our meanness, pettiness and deceit. "It's this knowledge that makes self-forgiveness so hard."
Have your words or your actions at times driven others away? Have you been at times blind to your own weakness, your own limitations? "Does your reluctance to see yourself realistically prompt a disintegration of what you typically assume about yourself?" If you experience these events, then you are likely candidate for self-forgiveness, writes Beverly Flannigan in her book, Forgiving Yourself. Flannigan writes passionately about a subject which she explains is at the very core of peacemaking.
Self-forgiveness can "restore peace within a person, and when peace is restored and hatred eliminated, even self-hatred, good things can result. Self-forgiveness is a process that can co-exist when others forgive us for hurting them, or when god is at work." Yet being forgiven by others does not exclude the need for self-forgiveness. Flannigan writes that the process takes some typical twists and turns on the road to peacemaking for self and others. First self-forgiveness, "results in your being able to finally feel that you have paid your debt to those you think you have owed. Second, self-forgiveness ends the desire to continue punishing yourself for letting your flaws or mistakes hurt other people. Third, self-forgiveness requires a commitment to personal change, and once you have changed, you will feel better about yourself. Fourth, when you have changed, the things you believed about yourself and others begin to make sense again."
Once again, maybe for the first time in a long time, the ideas you hold about yourself and others coincide; your life is no longing troubling, secret or in duality. And your life's meaning fits into a clear view. The process that Flannigan outlines is not easy. To take the walk into self-forgiveness, is a way without short cuts. Many unpleasant and even painful moments arise; this is the result of honest, realistic confrontation of our own being, our functioning, life as it is. This confrontation is greater and deeper than forgiveness of another may require. We may be forgiven, but only we know the depths of our meanness, pettiness and deceit. "It's this knowledge that makes self-forgiveness so hard."
Monday, January 18, 2010
Gopal's Eternal Brother
The Ideal of Forgiveness, a tale from India. This article appeared here previously on January 15, 2009.
Gopal's Eternal Brother
Once there was a great king named Vishwamitra. One day he learned that there was a saint in his kingdom whom everybody adored. The name of this saint was Vashishtha, and everyone gladly touched his feet. Now, although Vishwamitra was a very great king, nobody used to come and touch his feet.
People were afraid of him, and they would tremble before him. But with Vashishtha it was different. People gladly touched Vashishtha's feet with deepest appreciation and admiration.
So Vishwamitra was extremely jealous of Vashishtha. Vashishtha was a very great saint. After praying to God for many, many years, Vashishtha had realised God, and could speak to God face to face.
Vishwamitra knew that this was the reason why everybody was adoring Vashishtha instead of him, so he too started praying to God.
He prayed to God for a couple of years very seriously, often fasting but still he did not realise God. Then he became impatient. He went to Vashishtha and said, "You have realised God, but I have not been able to. I wish you to tell the world that I have also realised God, like you."
Vashista replied, "How can I say that?" "You can say it," the king insisted. "If you tell people, everybody will believe you, because you yourself have realised God. You know who God is, you speak to God. Tell everyone that I have realised God. Otherwise I shall kill your children!" Vashishtha said, "You can kill my children, but I cannot tell a lie."
Vishwamitra was a most powerful king. One by one he had the hundred sons of Vashishtha killed. The hundred sons were very well educated, kind and spiritual. They had studied the Vedas, the Upanishads and other religious and sacred books.
Nevertheless, the notorious king killed them all. Even after doing this Vishwamitra was not satisfied, because Vashishtha still refused to announce that he had realised God.
After a few months he thought, "This time he has to tell the world that I have realised God, or I shall kill him!" With this idea in his mind he went to Vashishtha's small cottage.
Before knocking at the door he stood outside quietly listening to the conversation inside. Arundhati, one of Vashishtha's wives, was saying to her husband, "My lord, why don't you say that Vishwamitra has realised God? If you had said it I would still have all my children. They were such nice, kind, devoted children.
They were all jewels. But just because you wouldn't say that he has realised God, he has killed all my children, and who knows what he will do next!"
Vashishtha said, "How can you ask me to do that? I love him. He has not realised God. How can I tell people that he has realised God? I love him and that is why I cannot tell a lie."
Even though Vishwamitra had killed the hundred sons of Vashishtha, the father could still say that he loved him! When Vishwamitra heard what Vashishtha said, he came running in and touched Vashishtha's feet, crying, "Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, my lord. I never knew that anyone on earth could love a person who had killed all his children."
Vashishtha placed his hand on Vishwamitra's head and blessed him. He said, "Today you have realised God, because today you know what love is, what truth is. God is all forgiveness. I am forgiving you, because the God in me is forgiving you. Today you have realised God."
What do we learn from this story? We learn that the ideal of forgiveness is the supreme ideal. When we pray to God, we see God's qualities: love and forgiveness. When we receive love and forgiveness from God, we can behave like God towards other people. Vashishtha's hundred sons were killed, yet even then he loved Vishwamitra.
Then, when Vishwamitra begged for forgiveness, Vashishtha gave it immediately, as well as giving him his inner Light, Joy and Power. Like Vashishtha, we always have the ability to forgive people when they do wrong things.
In this way we give them our Light, our Truth, our Joy. From this story we also learn the importance of associating with holy men.
When we are in the company of a spiritual person, even for a second, what transformation takes place in our life! Our life is changed in the twinkling of an eye.
From Gopal's Eternal Brother And Other Stories for Children by Sri Chinmoy
Mother Teresa, the Venerable: "If we really want to love,
[ our self first, and then the other ] we must learn how to forgive."
Monday, November 2, 2009
Living Awake and in the Truth, Part 2
Simple Mind is away from the computer. The following appeared here earlier this year, January 2, 2009.
Assumptions--are just that, assumptions.
To the Simple Mind, we are aware that things change, and in fact it is desirable because if they did not there would not be the opening for learning, for the new, a relief from what pains us, or hope. We would remain angry, fearful, resentful, confused. Pray for impermanence.
Working with this precept, we no longer try to escape the experience; rather like a scientist, we wait and observe our self, our reaction, our perceptions and what exists in this moment around us.
Reactions, like emotions, are automatic, they just happen. But what we choose to do isn't a happenstance. The will chooses and then we act. This is a freedom that we take so as to make best use and advantage of our circumstances.
What do we do when we find ourselves in the midst of gossip? What about that?
Sometimes we want to feel part of a group or an event by talking ill of another person, or deliberately excluding others, to feel more special or bonded -- us against them. Gossip is when we say things about others that are potentially harmful or slanderous to that other person -- with full knowledge of this in our mind.
This is distinguished from speaking about others with the intention of sorting out our thoughts or feelings, or problem solving.
Then there are the instant reactions that lead us into hurtful speech or action. What about when we feel insulted? How about when an emotion demands our attention?
Before beginning earnest practice, maybe we just walked away or changed the subject to avoid what we judged distasteful. Maybe we excused ourselves with the thought that "they deserve it, anyway."
Sometimes we counted to 10 or went for a walk before answering that insulting remark, that hurtful phrase. These tactics likely stopped or controlled our reactions, but to really move beyond, to move to a Simple Mind requires a different response. A response that perhaps to this point in our lives we are unfamiliar with.
We must through practice, in awareness, dismantle our habitual thoughts and patterns of behavior. These are habits which cause us to suffer; those perceived thoughts, the imagined self which keeps us in the dream.
When we gain in awareness, then our deepest beliefs and fears may be faced honestly and squarely. We respond to what is so, to reality as it is by experience, not driven by fear, anger or other passion. Our response is what is required, according to our will, our desire to be as we are.
With this precept, our practice becomes meeting life in all its possibilities, in its newness, and its sometimes strangeness.
And while certainty, feeling "sure" is seductive, and it can make us feel safe, prayers for change, for impermanence are part of the Way. As a Mahayana practitioner notes, 'when a flower dies, we don't cry, because we know flowers are impermanent.' Understanding this, we will suffer less and be joyful more. Impermanence is not negative!
Does it then, in the Way, mean that we have to lose all that we care for? Of course not; the community remains and is important. What is also important is that we not cling so tightly to persons or things, that we fail to recognize the nature of change.
So, to gain in skillfulness and practice of the precepts, we must turn to experience, the present moment as our guide, and not simply notions or intellectual ideas.
As Joko Beck has said, "when we experience for ourselves the transitory nature of beliefs, then it no longer has us in a strong hold. We can be freer from our requirements--freer to speak truthfully." Isn't it odd how those we care for most deeply, those who have meaning to us in our daily lives, are those for whom we most often hold deeply, and those whom we entrench in our faultfinding?
This is one of the ways in which we may avoid ourselves.
We are dishonest with ourselves first before the other. By focusing not on our own experience, but on what we think must be the experience of another, we criticize, nit-pick, fault. Sometimes, most often, those negative attributes are really our own.
Our own views may thus be frozen; we may not be acting from awareness of our selves-- what are we feeling, what is my perception/experience? If we do not take the critical self view, like that of a scientist, examining our own functioning, our own organism, faultfinding gains a hold. We react to something that may not even be real at all-- at least not real beyond our own mind, and then we suffer the consequences when the world rebuffs us, as it must.
Other ways of avoiding or not being truthful are several:
*Do I add to the story my own facts, interpretations or opinions as though they are true?
Try seeing yourself as the other person whom you spoke about. How do your words fit now? What is your experience?
*Do I keep silent? Do I comment when in a group about something I know, or do I allow it to pass by?
What is your intention in keeping silent? What is your experience? Do I take some advantage from not speaking?
As you practice, keep in mind that in the Simple Mind, speaking truthfully is neither better nor worse.
Assumptions--are just that, assumptions.
To the Simple Mind, we are aware that things change, and in fact it is desirable because if they did not there would not be the opening for learning, for the new, a relief from what pains us, or hope. We would remain angry, fearful, resentful, confused. Pray for impermanence.
Working with this precept, we no longer try to escape the experience; rather like a scientist, we wait and observe our self, our reaction, our perceptions and what exists in this moment around us.
Reactions, like emotions, are automatic, they just happen. But what we choose to do isn't a happenstance. The will chooses and then we act. This is a freedom that we take so as to make best use and advantage of our circumstances.
What do we do when we find ourselves in the midst of gossip? What about that?
Sometimes we want to feel part of a group or an event by talking ill of another person, or deliberately excluding others, to feel more special or bonded -- us against them. Gossip is when we say things about others that are potentially harmful or slanderous to that other person -- with full knowledge of this in our mind.
This is distinguished from speaking about others with the intention of sorting out our thoughts or feelings, or problem solving.
Then there are the instant reactions that lead us into hurtful speech or action. What about when we feel insulted? How about when an emotion demands our attention?
Before beginning earnest practice, maybe we just walked away or changed the subject to avoid what we judged distasteful. Maybe we excused ourselves with the thought that "they deserve it, anyway."
Sometimes we counted to 10 or went for a walk before answering that insulting remark, that hurtful phrase. These tactics likely stopped or controlled our reactions, but to really move beyond, to move to a Simple Mind requires a different response. A response that perhaps to this point in our lives we are unfamiliar with.
We must through practice, in awareness, dismantle our habitual thoughts and patterns of behavior. These are habits which cause us to suffer; those perceived thoughts, the imagined self which keeps us in the dream.
When we gain in awareness, then our deepest beliefs and fears may be faced honestly and squarely. We respond to what is so, to reality as it is by experience, not driven by fear, anger or other passion. Our response is what is required, according to our will, our desire to be as we are.
With this precept, our practice becomes meeting life in all its possibilities, in its newness, and its sometimes strangeness.
And while certainty, feeling "sure" is seductive, and it can make us feel safe, prayers for change, for impermanence are part of the Way. As a Mahayana practitioner notes, 'when a flower dies, we don't cry, because we know flowers are impermanent.' Understanding this, we will suffer less and be joyful more. Impermanence is not negative!
Does it then, in the Way, mean that we have to lose all that we care for? Of course not; the community remains and is important. What is also important is that we not cling so tightly to persons or things, that we fail to recognize the nature of change.
So, to gain in skillfulness and practice of the precepts, we must turn to experience, the present moment as our guide, and not simply notions or intellectual ideas.
As Joko Beck has said, "when we experience for ourselves the transitory nature of beliefs, then it no longer has us in a strong hold. We can be freer from our requirements--freer to speak truthfully." Isn't it odd how those we care for most deeply, those who have meaning to us in our daily lives, are those for whom we most often hold deeply, and those whom we entrench in our faultfinding?
This is one of the ways in which we may avoid ourselves.
We are dishonest with ourselves first before the other. By focusing not on our own experience, but on what we think must be the experience of another, we criticize, nit-pick, fault. Sometimes, most often, those negative attributes are really our own.
Our own views may thus be frozen; we may not be acting from awareness of our selves-- what are we feeling, what is my perception/experience? If we do not take the critical self view, like that of a scientist, examining our own functioning, our own organism, faultfinding gains a hold. We react to something that may not even be real at all-- at least not real beyond our own mind, and then we suffer the consequences when the world rebuffs us, as it must.
Other ways of avoiding or not being truthful are several:
*Do I add to the story my own facts, interpretations or opinions as though they are true?
Try seeing yourself as the other person whom you spoke about. How do your words fit now? What is your experience?
*Do I keep silent? Do I comment when in a group about something I know, or do I allow it to pass by?
What is your intention in keeping silent? What is your experience? Do I take some advantage from not speaking?
As you practice, keep in mind that in the Simple Mind, speaking truthfully is neither better nor worse.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The Tomato Fighters
"Some, especially those in spiritual communities, may imagine that the jewel of life never has conflict, argument, or upset--and of how little we know or appreciate it..." -- Nothing Special, Living Zen by Charlotte Joko Beck
"I have a dream," said Martin Luther King; "even if you are a minority of one, the truth is the truth; we must become the change we wish to see in the world," said Mahatma Gandhi; "blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God," said Saint Matthew 5:9; "let one see one's own acts, done and undone," states the Dhammapada, verse 50.
Becoming the "tomato fighters," as Charlotte Joko Beck calls them in her book, Nothing Special Living Zen, is as important as death itself. How so? It is the fear of death itself, and of impermanence in general, that is the most basic of all our fears; it is, she writes, the basis of all our fear-based responses. When in fear, we are not free. We cannot respond in the "here-and-now" because fear most often is fueled by the past about something which has not yet occurred, and may not ever.
Oh, what a place to be--neither past nor present; caught in the dream of self, a self which is not present in this moment, living this life. Rather it is fearing, fearful of what has yet to come, fueled by memory of past; a past which may include argument, competitiveness, conflict, pain and of course, anger. Thinking that life is necessarily free of such experiences is "a great mistake, because if we don't understand how conflict is generated, we can wreck our lives, and the lives of others. First, we need to see that we are all afraid... [there is] the effort to protect our self-image, or ego. Out of that need... comes anger. Out of anger comes conflict," writes Beck.
Yet anger and conflict are part of human existence. However they need not destroy our relations with others. To suppose that a good community, or to imagine that a "good life has no heated arguments, no disagreements; that's silly." Like neighbors she knew as a child, Beck writes that they competed, argued loudly over the produce of their summer gardens. Each proclaimed his tomatoes to be the best. And they argued some more. Yet these neighbors were friends. After the competition was over, there was no bitterness. Their example of a positive exchange was to see, that in the end, when their loud bickering was done, they were still friends; they still exchanged their ideas and opinions without rancor.
If we find that argument with persons close to us, connected in one way or another, leaves us bitter, angry or sad, a closer view may be in order. Arguing, clearing the air, resolving and respecting differences can be positive to practice. Suzuki wrote that he had never personally experienced "anger, pure as the wind." Perhaps because it is so frequently tinged with fears and disappointments. Beck writes about our efforts to be honest, "Honesty is the absolute basis of our practice. But what does that mean?... Often our efforts to be honest don't come from real honesty... As long as we have any intention to be right, to show or "teach" the other person something, we should be wary. So long as our words have the slightest ego attachment, they are dishonest."
True words come from deep looking, clear seeing, and understanding. Understanding what is our anger, our fear; knowing that we must sometimes wait. Can you wait, patiently, observing all of yourself and the world around you? Can you wait attentively until the answer presents itself? Will you force an answer with false words or actions?
Waiting until the right words or actions arise in the present moment is not easy, but it is very important if we want to be peacemakers with ourselves, and others. Then we may speak with honest words, words that do not cut, that do no harm; speaking words that reflect who we are, honestly, in the clearest, best voice we have-- our own.
simplemindzen.blogspot.com
"I have a dream," said Martin Luther King; "even if you are a minority of one, the truth is the truth; we must become the change we wish to see in the world," said Mahatma Gandhi; "blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God," said Saint Matthew 5:9; "let one see one's own acts, done and undone," states the Dhammapada, verse 50.
Becoming the "tomato fighters," as Charlotte Joko Beck calls them in her book, Nothing Special Living Zen, is as important as death itself. How so? It is the fear of death itself, and of impermanence in general, that is the most basic of all our fears; it is, she writes, the basis of all our fear-based responses. When in fear, we are not free. We cannot respond in the "here-and-now" because fear most often is fueled by the past about something which has not yet occurred, and may not ever.
Oh, what a place to be--neither past nor present; caught in the dream of self, a self which is not present in this moment, living this life. Rather it is fearing, fearful of what has yet to come, fueled by memory of past; a past which may include argument, competitiveness, conflict, pain and of course, anger. Thinking that life is necessarily free of such experiences is "a great mistake, because if we don't understand how conflict is generated, we can wreck our lives, and the lives of others. First, we need to see that we are all afraid... [there is] the effort to protect our self-image, or ego. Out of that need... comes anger. Out of anger comes conflict," writes Beck.
Yet anger and conflict are part of human existence. However they need not destroy our relations with others. To suppose that a good community, or to imagine that a "good life has no heated arguments, no disagreements; that's silly." Like neighbors she knew as a child, Beck writes that they competed, argued loudly over the produce of their summer gardens. Each proclaimed his tomatoes to be the best. And they argued some more. Yet these neighbors were friends. After the competition was over, there was no bitterness. Their example of a positive exchange was to see, that in the end, when their loud bickering was done, they were still friends; they still exchanged their ideas and opinions without rancor.
If we find that argument with persons close to us, connected in one way or another, leaves us bitter, angry or sad, a closer view may be in order. Arguing, clearing the air, resolving and respecting differences can be positive to practice. Suzuki wrote that he had never personally experienced "anger, pure as the wind." Perhaps because it is so frequently tinged with fears and disappointments. Beck writes about our efforts to be honest, "Honesty is the absolute basis of our practice. But what does that mean?... Often our efforts to be honest don't come from real honesty... As long as we have any intention to be right, to show or "teach" the other person something, we should be wary. So long as our words have the slightest ego attachment, they are dishonest."
True words come from deep looking, clear seeing, and understanding. Understanding what is our anger, our fear; knowing that we must sometimes wait. Can you wait, patiently, observing all of yourself and the world around you? Can you wait attentively until the answer presents itself? Will you force an answer with false words or actions?
Waiting until the right words or actions arise in the present moment is not easy, but it is very important if we want to be peacemakers with ourselves, and others. Then we may speak with honest words, words that do not cut, that do no harm; speaking words that reflect who we are, honestly, in the clearest, best voice we have-- our own.
simplemindzen.blogspot.com
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Self Honesty and Forgiveness
The Ideal of Forgiveness, a tale from India.
Gopal's Eternal Brother
Once there was a great king named Vishwamitra. One day he learned that there was a saint in his kingdom whom everybody adored. The name of this saint was Vashishtha, and everyone gladly touched his feet. Now, although Vishwamitra was a very great king, nobody used to come and touch his feet.
People were afraid of him, and they would tremble before him. But with Vashishtha it was different. People gladly touched Vashishtha's feet with deepest appreciation and admiration.
So Vishwamitra was extremely jealous of Vashishtha. Vashishtha was a very great saint. After praying to God for many, many years, Vashishtha had realised God, and could speak to God face to face.
Vishwamitra knew that this was the reason why everybody was adoring Vashishtha instead of him, so he too started praying to God.
He prayed to God for a couple of years very seriously, often fasting but still he did not realise God. Then he became impatient. He went to Vashishtha and said, "You have realised God, but I have not been able to. I wish you to tell the world that I have also realised God, like you."
Vashista replied, "How can I say that?" "You can say it," the king insisted. "If you tell people, everybody will believe you, because you yourself have realised God. You know who God is, you speak to God. Tell everyone that I have realised God. Otherwise I shall kill your children!" Vashishtha said, "You can kill my children, but I cannot tell a lie."
Vishwamitra was a most powerful king. One by one he had the hundred sons of Vashishtha killed. The hundred sons were very well educated, kind and spiritual. They had studied the Vedas, the Upanishads and other religious and sacred books.
Nevertheless, the notorious king killed them all. Even after doing this Vishwamitra was not satisfied, because Vashishtha still refused to announce that he had realised God.
After a few months he thought, "This time he has to tell the world that I have realised God, or I shall kill him!" With this idea in his mind he went to Vashishtha's small cottage.
Before knocking at the door he stood outside quietly listening to the conversation inside. Arundhati, one of Vashishtha's wives, was saying to her husband, "My lord, why don't you say that Vishwamitra has realised God? If you had said it I would still have all my children. They were such nice, kind, devoted children.
They were all jewels. But just because you wouldn't say that he has realised God, he has killed all my children, and who knows what he will do next!"
Vashishtha said, "How can you ask me to do that? I love him. He has not realised God. How can I tell people that he has realised God? I love him and that is why I cannot tell a lie."
Even though Vishwamitra had killed the hundred sons of Vashishtha, the father could still say that he loved him! When Vishwamitra heard what Vashishtha said, he came running in and touched Vashishtha's feet, crying, "Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, my lord. I never knew that anyone on earth could love a person who had killed all his children."
Vashishtha placed his hand on Vishwamitra's head and blessed him. He said, "Today you have realised God, because today you know what love is, what truth is. God is all forgiveness. I am forgiving you, because the God in me is forgiving you. Today you have realised God."
What do we learn from this story? We learn that the ideal of forgiveness is the supreme ideal. When we pray to God, we see God's qualities: love and forgiveness. When we receive love and forgiveness from God, we can behave like God towards other people. Vashishtha's hundred sons were killed, yet even then he loved Vishwamitra.
Then, when Vishwamitra begged for forgiveness, Vashishtha gave it immediately, as well as giving him his inner Light, Joy and Power. Like Vashishtha, we always have the ability to forgive people when they do wrong things.
In this way we give them our Light, our Truth, our Joy. From this story we also learn the importance of associating with holy men.
When we are in the company of a spiritual person, even for a second, what transformation takes place in our life! Our life is changed in the twinkling of an eye.
From Gopal's Eternal Brother And Other Stories for Children by Sri Chinmoy
Mother Teresa, the Venerable: "If we really want to love,
[ our self first, and then the other ] we must learn how to forgive."
Gopal's Eternal Brother
Once there was a great king named Vishwamitra. One day he learned that there was a saint in his kingdom whom everybody adored. The name of this saint was Vashishtha, and everyone gladly touched his feet. Now, although Vishwamitra was a very great king, nobody used to come and touch his feet.
People were afraid of him, and they would tremble before him. But with Vashishtha it was different. People gladly touched Vashishtha's feet with deepest appreciation and admiration.
So Vishwamitra was extremely jealous of Vashishtha. Vashishtha was a very great saint. After praying to God for many, many years, Vashishtha had realised God, and could speak to God face to face.
Vishwamitra knew that this was the reason why everybody was adoring Vashishtha instead of him, so he too started praying to God.
He prayed to God for a couple of years very seriously, often fasting but still he did not realise God. Then he became impatient. He went to Vashishtha and said, "You have realised God, but I have not been able to. I wish you to tell the world that I have also realised God, like you."
Vashista replied, "How can I say that?" "You can say it," the king insisted. "If you tell people, everybody will believe you, because you yourself have realised God. You know who God is, you speak to God. Tell everyone that I have realised God. Otherwise I shall kill your children!" Vashishtha said, "You can kill my children, but I cannot tell a lie."
Vishwamitra was a most powerful king. One by one he had the hundred sons of Vashishtha killed. The hundred sons were very well educated, kind and spiritual. They had studied the Vedas, the Upanishads and other religious and sacred books.
Nevertheless, the notorious king killed them all. Even after doing this Vishwamitra was not satisfied, because Vashishtha still refused to announce that he had realised God.
After a few months he thought, "This time he has to tell the world that I have realised God, or I shall kill him!" With this idea in his mind he went to Vashishtha's small cottage.
Before knocking at the door he stood outside quietly listening to the conversation inside. Arundhati, one of Vashishtha's wives, was saying to her husband, "My lord, why don't you say that Vishwamitra has realised God? If you had said it I would still have all my children. They were such nice, kind, devoted children.
They were all jewels. But just because you wouldn't say that he has realised God, he has killed all my children, and who knows what he will do next!"
Vashishtha said, "How can you ask me to do that? I love him. He has not realised God. How can I tell people that he has realised God? I love him and that is why I cannot tell a lie."
Even though Vishwamitra had killed the hundred sons of Vashishtha, the father could still say that he loved him! When Vishwamitra heard what Vashishtha said, he came running in and touched Vashishtha's feet, crying, "Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, my lord. I never knew that anyone on earth could love a person who had killed all his children."
Vashishtha placed his hand on Vishwamitra's head and blessed him. He said, "Today you have realised God, because today you know what love is, what truth is. God is all forgiveness. I am forgiving you, because the God in me is forgiving you. Today you have realised God."
What do we learn from this story? We learn that the ideal of forgiveness is the supreme ideal. When we pray to God, we see God's qualities: love and forgiveness. When we receive love and forgiveness from God, we can behave like God towards other people. Vashishtha's hundred sons were killed, yet even then he loved Vishwamitra.
Then, when Vishwamitra begged for forgiveness, Vashishtha gave it immediately, as well as giving him his inner Light, Joy and Power. Like Vashishtha, we always have the ability to forgive people when they do wrong things.
In this way we give them our Light, our Truth, our Joy. From this story we also learn the importance of associating with holy men.
When we are in the company of a spiritual person, even for a second, what transformation takes place in our life! Our life is changed in the twinkling of an eye.
From Gopal's Eternal Brother And Other Stories for Children by Sri Chinmoy
Mother Teresa, the Venerable: "If we really want to love,
[ our self first, and then the other ] we must learn how to forgive."
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Living Awake and in the Truth part 2
Assumptions--are just that, assumptions.
To the Simple Mind, we are aware that things change, and in fact it is desirable because if they did not there would not be the opening for learning, for the new, a relief from what pains us, or hope. We would remain angry, fearful, resentful, confused. Pray for impermanence.
Working with this precept, we no longer try to escape the experience; rather like a scientist, we wait and observe our self, our reaction, our perceptions and what exists in this moment around us.
Reactions, like emotions, are automatic, they just happen. But what we choose to do isn't a happenstance. The will chooses and then we act. This is a freedom that we take so as to make best use and advantage of our circumstances.
What do we do when we find ourselves in the midst of gossip? What about that?
Sometimes we want to feel part of a group or an event by talking ill of another person, or deliberately excluding others, to feel more special or bonded -- us against them. Gossip is when we say things about others that are potentially harmful or slanderous to that other person -- with full knowledge of this in our mind.
This is distinguished from speaking about others with the intention of sorting out our thoughts or feelings, or problem solving.
Then there are the instant reactions that lead us into hurtful speech or action. What about when we feel insulted? How about when an emotion demands our attention?
Before beginning earnest practice, maybe we just walked away or changed the subject to avoid what we judged distasteful. Maybe we excused ourselves with the thought that "they deserve it, anyway."
Sometimes we counted to 10 or went for a walk before answering that insulting remark, that hurtful phrase. These tactics likely stopped or controlled our reactions, but to really move beyond, to move to a Simple Mind requires a different response. A response that perhaps to this point in our lives we are unfamiliar with.
We must through practice, in awareness, dismantle our habitual thoughts and patterns of behavior. These are habits which cause us to suffer; those perceived thoughts, the imagined self which keeps us in the dream.
When we gain in awareness, then our deepest beliefs and fears may be faced honestly and squarely. We respond to what is so, to reality as it is by experience, not driven by fear, anger or other passion. Our response is what is required, according to our will, our desire to be as we are.
With this precept, our practice becomes meeting life in all its possibilities, in its newness, and its sometimes strangeness.
And while certainty, feeling "sure" is seductive, and it can make us feel safe, prayers for change, for impermanence are part of the Way. As a Mahayana practitioner notes, 'when a flower dies, we don't cry, because we know flowers are impermanent.' Understanding this, we will suffer less and be joyful more. Impermanence is not negative!
Does it then, in the Way, mean that we have to lose all that we care for? Of course not; the community remains and is important. What is also important is that we not cling so tightly to persons or things, that we fail to recognize the nature of change.
So, to gain in skillfulness and practice of the precepts, we must turn to experience, the present moment as our guide, and not simply notions or intellectual ideas.
As Joko Beck has said, "when we experience for ourselves the transitory nature of beliefs, then it no longer has us in a strong hold. We can be freer from our requirements--freer to speak truthfully." Isn't it odd how those we care for most deeply, those who have meaning to us in our daily lives, are those for whom we most often hold deeply, and those whom we entrench in our faultfinding?
This is one of the ways in which we may avoid ourselves.
We are dishonest with ourselves first before the other. By focusing not on our own experience, but on what we think must be the experience of another, we criticize, nit-pick, fault. Sometimes, most often, those negative attributes are really our own.
Our own views may thus be frozen; we may not be acting from awareness of our selves-- what are we feeling, what is my perception/experience? If we do not take the critical self view, like that of a scientist, examining our own functioning, our own organism, faultfinding gains a hold. We react to something that may not even be real at all-- at least not real beyond our own mind, and then we suffer the consequences when the world rebuffs us, as it must.
Other ways of avoiding or not being truthful are several:
*Do I add to the story my own facts, interpretations or opinions as though they are true?
Try seeing yourself as the other person whom you spoke about. How do your words fit now? What is your experience?
*Do I keep silent? Do I comment when in a group about something I know, or do I allow it to pass by?
What is your intention in keeping silent? What is your experience? Do I take some advantage from not speaking?
As you practice, keep in mind that in the Simple Mind, speaking truthfully is neither better nor worse.
To the Simple Mind, we are aware that things change, and in fact it is desirable because if they did not there would not be the opening for learning, for the new, a relief from what pains us, or hope. We would remain angry, fearful, resentful, confused. Pray for impermanence.
Working with this precept, we no longer try to escape the experience; rather like a scientist, we wait and observe our self, our reaction, our perceptions and what exists in this moment around us.
Reactions, like emotions, are automatic, they just happen. But what we choose to do isn't a happenstance. The will chooses and then we act. This is a freedom that we take so as to make best use and advantage of our circumstances.
What do we do when we find ourselves in the midst of gossip? What about that?
Sometimes we want to feel part of a group or an event by talking ill of another person, or deliberately excluding others, to feel more special or bonded -- us against them. Gossip is when we say things about others that are potentially harmful or slanderous to that other person -- with full knowledge of this in our mind.
This is distinguished from speaking about others with the intention of sorting out our thoughts or feelings, or problem solving.
Then there are the instant reactions that lead us into hurtful speech or action. What about when we feel insulted? How about when an emotion demands our attention?
Before beginning earnest practice, maybe we just walked away or changed the subject to avoid what we judged distasteful. Maybe we excused ourselves with the thought that "they deserve it, anyway."
Sometimes we counted to 10 or went for a walk before answering that insulting remark, that hurtful phrase. These tactics likely stopped or controlled our reactions, but to really move beyond, to move to a Simple Mind requires a different response. A response that perhaps to this point in our lives we are unfamiliar with.
We must through practice, in awareness, dismantle our habitual thoughts and patterns of behavior. These are habits which cause us to suffer; those perceived thoughts, the imagined self which keeps us in the dream.
When we gain in awareness, then our deepest beliefs and fears may be faced honestly and squarely. We respond to what is so, to reality as it is by experience, not driven by fear, anger or other passion. Our response is what is required, according to our will, our desire to be as we are.
With this precept, our practice becomes meeting life in all its possibilities, in its newness, and its sometimes strangeness.
And while certainty, feeling "sure" is seductive, and it can make us feel safe, prayers for change, for impermanence are part of the Way. As a Mahayana practitioner notes, 'when a flower dies, we don't cry, because we know flowers are impermanent.' Understanding this, we will suffer less and be joyful more. Impermanence is not negative!
Does it then, in the Way, mean that we have to lose all that we care for? Of course not; the community remains and is important. What is also important is that we not cling so tightly to persons or things, that we fail to recognize the nature of change.
So, to gain in skillfulness and practice of the precepts, we must turn to experience, the present moment as our guide, and not simply notions or intellectual ideas.
As Joko Beck has said, "when we experience for ourselves the transitory nature of beliefs, then it no longer has us in a strong hold. We can be freer from our requirements--freer to speak truthfully." Isn't it odd how those we care for most deeply, those who have meaning to us in our daily lives, are those for whom we most often hold deeply, and those whom we entrench in our faultfinding?
This is one of the ways in which we may avoid ourselves.
We are dishonest with ourselves first before the other. By focusing not on our own experience, but on what we think must be the experience of another, we criticize, nit-pick, fault. Sometimes, most often, those negative attributes are really our own.
Our own views may thus be frozen; we may not be acting from awareness of our selves-- what are we feeling, what is my perception/experience? If we do not take the critical self view, like that of a scientist, examining our own functioning, our own organism, faultfinding gains a hold. We react to something that may not even be real at all-- at least not real beyond our own mind, and then we suffer the consequences when the world rebuffs us, as it must.
Other ways of avoiding or not being truthful are several:
*Do I add to the story my own facts, interpretations or opinions as though they are true?
Try seeing yourself as the other person whom you spoke about. How do your words fit now? What is your experience?
*Do I keep silent? Do I comment when in a group about something I know, or do I allow it to pass by?
What is your intention in keeping silent? What is your experience? Do I take some advantage from not speaking?
As you practice, keep in mind that in the Simple Mind, speaking truthfully is neither better nor worse.
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