I like it when I am not distracted by memories or restrained by thoughts of what is yet to come. It is a good day when I embrace the notion that there never has been or never will be a greater opportunity to be fully alive than today . This chance will never come again.
It is the best day ever, and it is unfolding all around me, even as I write these words.
I have a brass singing-bowl that rings a couple times a day. It is a sound that I encourage with a small wooden striker. It is a sound that comes from the unique essence of the bowl as the metal vibrates in response to my invitation.
Whenever the bowl sings, it does so with a substance that has been present since the Big Bang began. The metallic nature of the bowl has been shaped by stars a couple of star generations before our sun. The form of the bowl has come from energy produced out of the evolving essence of our own sun.
The sound I hear rises from sources that have been present for billions of our earth years. The bowl sitting on my dresser has been rising to this moment of song for eons so vast that they lose their meaning. The song of the bowl comes from a place that there seems to be no measurable time.
For me, every time the bowl sings, it does so outside of time and with an intimate connection with everything that is also arising. The substance and shape of my bowl has been rubbing against everything that exists for as long as there has been time. I may see my singing bowl sitting before me on my dresser, but it has always been present to everything, affected by everything and arising with everything.
The universe has been a chorus of arising entities and the arising is happening right now. This is a realization of physics in our modern era. It is a realization that I experience every time I hear my brass bowl sing. I invite my bowl to sing, it invites me to arise with it.
Rilke recently introduced me to the notion of poetry capturing experience. He taught me that a poem is not about emotions but about felt experience. I’ve been paying attention, and I agree that sharing experience makes a poem a poem. It is also what makes my life a life. Mine is not a real life, not a real experience unless it is a life felt as a whole body experience. And that experience has the feeling of velvet.
When I was a teenager, I sometimes wrote of my experience of entering the “velvet forest.” For me, walking in the woods was as tactile as brushing up against velvet. I remember the experience of my whole body. All the woody bark, the fluttering leaves, the lurking bushes, the hard ground were an experience of touching velvet. My eyes and my hands could experience the rough , hard and moist surfaces, and my experience was one of touching, stroking velvet. I was more alive when touching velvet.
It was an experience of my whole body. It was much more than the sensation of smell, touch and sight. The woods became real to me as enveloped and infused with velvet. I experienced the woods as velvet.
My days are now become my woods. My daily experience is increasingly one of feeling velvet. The flowers are made of velvet, my meditation cloak is one of velvet, my feet walk on velvet ground. I move through velvet as I go from room to room. My senses are slowly becoming tuned to the velvety nature of things as I experience the world as it really is.
The granite of my kitchen counter is more than cold and hard. It has the soft and ancient touch of velvet. I look out into the backyard, and I feel the soft velvet of snow, trees and bushes. I feel the velvet not with my eyes, but with my whole body.
Slowly, I am realizing the velvety nature of things and they are so lovely to touch. All things, even people, are made of velvet, and I gently touch that soft presence whenever I allow myself to experience it.
I use to walk alone into my velvet forest as a teenager. I have learned that I can walk in a velvet world as an adult. The touch is so soft, pleasant and peaceful. I am at home in velvet.
Last night I was given the opportunity to present the following thoughts to my Sangha on how the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh might provide guidance for the holidays.
What does our teacher Thay have to say about how we might approach the holidays?
-For me, it has been a year during which I have read many pages of Thay’s writings, absorbing, reflecting.
-As I have approached the holidays, what is different this year?
I checked the Plum Village website last evening, and Thay has nothing specific to say.
I’ve been reading “Old Path White Clouds”, a dear and lovely telling of the life of the Buddha in the words of Thay, written some 25 years ago.
-That may be about as close as I can get to receiving Thay’s advice.
At a time filled with so many traditional celebrations, I am not aware of any specific Buddhist celebrations at this time of year.
-There must be, just because this seems to be a navel of the solar year when every culture seems to have something to celebrate.
-I’m not so sure that is important anyhow.
I think Thay’s advice for the holidays is “be mindful” Be attentive. Be authentic, Be present.
-Not so much about what we do as how we do it.
-Core teaching of the Buddha, as channeled thru Thay, is to walk mindfully, move mindfully, eat mindfully.
-BECOME AWAKENED
-Do what helps you become more awakened.
For me, becoming awakened is not an abstract goal or concept.
-It is how Thay says to go through every day of my life.
-The holidays are not an exception.
-Even if they are a special challenge.
The holidays are especially a dangerous time because of the heavy reliance on tradition.
-The holidays are a time where we scrupuously and avidly repeat what has been done in the past.
-The Second Noble Truth tells us that clinging is a cause of suffering.
– I think Thay would ask: ‘Does Traditiion help us be mindful”
I think we give meaning to what we do by listening to three voices.
-The voice of the past, our ancestors, tradition.
-The voice of the present, our teachers, the world around us, our experience.
-The voice of our awakened heart.
For me Thay’s advice would be to put the emphasis on present experience and our awakened hearts.
-What doesn’t promote deep awareness, awakening, should be abandoned.
-Traditions that promote mindful awareness should be celebrated.
-Traditions that do not promote mindful awareness should be abandoned.
-Practices, celebrations that affirm and encourage awareness of our world should be promoted.
-Those that do not should be abandoned.
I’ve taken this to heart this year and I am making an effort to do only what feels authentic for me.
-I am trying to do what increases, promotes mindfulness.
-Abandoning what does not.
-I am not just going through the motions just because it has been my past practice.
I am celebrating solstice, the tilting of the earth back to light by burning lots of lights, including candles.
-As I have done in past years with my boys, I am decorating a tree in my back yard with fruit slices and peanut butter pine cones,
-inviting the critters to celebrate the shift from the cold days of winter toward a future spring.
-I have turned away from rabid, frantic holiday shopping; it supports consumerism and does little to promote my mindfulness.
– When I walk into Target I can feel the intensity and tension around me.
-I am scheduling time with my own sangha of friends, spending time with them individually and mindfully during my holiday time.
-It is a time for affirming what we mean to one another.
I think that is what Thay would say: whatever you do, do mindfully.
-Don’t do things that don’t encourage mindfulness.
On the surface, our celebrations could look very very different;
-Some will look like a baby Jesus celebraion;
– some like Hannucha,
-some like solstice,
-some like a loving frenzy of gift giving and cookie baking.
I think that for those of us who listen to Thay, they will have the common feature of mindfulness;
-they will be authentic,
-they will be what we really want to do.
I am surprised how much magic there is in everything. There is explosive magic in the common and ordinary. It is there, waiting to be experienced. Sense perception is wonderful and tells me many things about my world. It is the beginning of awareness of the magical. Here is so much more to know, feel and be aware of. My experience has begun to take me deeper into an appreciation and awareness of what is real and full of wonder.
For me, the irony is that so much of this truly magical and real world was hidden from me for many years by my own pious hands. I was one of the million of “believers” who, rather than trust my own senses and awareness, chose instead to live in an imaginary world.
Now, that seems like trying to live in my imagination was such a huge effort. Like many others, I laboriously surrounded myself with a world of imagined divinity while the real expression of wonder was ready to play out effortlessly all around me.
Fortunately for me, my pious hands have parted, the wall is crumbling and there now is abundant light. The scenery of my imagined world is being put into long-term storage, and the real world of my direct experience is taking center stage. My flat, two-dimensional world populated with imagined caricatures has dissolved to reveal an exuberant magical reality.
I’d like to say that I have chosen a path of direct experience. But it is hardly a choice at all. I have simply learned the value of relaxing. I have chosen to open myself, my mind and my body so that I can directly experience the magic of reality throughout the day. I practice acceptance of the possibly scary nature of what I may see. I let down my guard.
The rest simply happens naturally, once I relax and allow my hands to move from my eyes. It is no effort at all, and for me that is the secret: stop making such an effort. I allow the magic of the world to unfold before me, allow it to express itself, allow the experience to happen.
For the magic to happen, for reality to manifest, for me to experience the real world, I simply allow it to happen.
I am sad when I think of how many graduating seniors are told, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life,” or something like that. This kind of thinking is it just plain unskillful. It encourages young people to dwell in the future and pay less attention to what is going on around them, now, today. That is not helpful.
Thinking about the future and making plans can make sense. However, much of the future will take care of itself if those students have an open, skillful grasp of what is going on right now. Planning is nice and even helpful. It is so much more effective to put the emphasis on now, on today. Learning how to put the emphasis on now, on today is not a skill I was taught, and I don’t think my experience is unique.
If I am paying attention to what is happening today, it will be so much more obvious what consequences will flow into the future. The more I am skillful in understanding what is happening right now, the more the future will unfold in a clear manner unmatched by any skillful “planner”. The more I am emerged in what I feel about right now, the less I will invest in feelings about what might happen in the future.
I have had to unlearn my planning preoccupation. I have given up much of my old anxiety about the future and what might happen, even though the old habits about worrying seem to reappear from time to time. It simply works: the more I pay attention to what is happening now, today, the more I seem to understand the unfolding future. I don’t have to plan or make decisions. The options present themselves in such compelling, insightful ways that there is no real decision to be made. The “planning” is obvious, it is built into my understanding of what is happening today. I just have to pay attention. I don’t even have to “do” anything else.
I have two sons, and I sometimes get the impression that friends want me to worry more about them and their future. I would rather simply be more attentive to what they are doing right now, how they are living today, how they are engaged. The future is built into their today, and it does me no good to worry about where that will lead. I’m not convinced that it does them any good either.
Those students who have to listen to the nonsense about “today being the first day” would do much better to sharpen their awareness and attention on what is happening right now. If they haven’t been taught how to do that in school, today would be a good day to learn.
I seems so wrong that anyone could think that someone belonged to them. It seems equally wrong for anyone to think that they belonged to someone and took comfort in that notion.
I recognize that I have bought into both sides of this notion of belonging, but hopefully no more. It is wrong to reduce the beautiful spirit and free independence of anyone to the attitude I might have to ownership or property. I still struggle with the lingering traces of a habit of feeling like I want to belong.
Like most people, I was taught from an early age that I belonged to my parents, and that got terribly mixed up with their wanting to be my support and protection. They came to own me, and I owed them. Breaking that deeply forged sense of belonging has not come easily. Unfortunately, I have managed to transfer my sense of belonging to others. There is a great comfort in surrendering to someone else’s ownership.
There certainly are powerful cultural structures that promote a deep feeling of belonging. Slavery is not a huge part of our culture but many of us give ourselves into servitude to individual bosses or organizations. Those bosses and organizations commonly treat us as though we belonged to them. We get a feeling of acceptance, validation and comfort when we belong.
Marriage, as practiced in my culture, also surrounded me with a circle of belonging. The words of songs still float through my head, reminding how I belonged to someone and they belonged to me. I still struggle against this notion. It is a perverse concept rooted in early agricultural cultures when owning property and products became the norm. I too, like the early agronomists, felt I was owned by someone and they owned me.
This mal-formed kind of relationship is learned in childhood, and for me and most of my friends, carried into adulthood. We retain a sense of ownership of someone’s time, attention and affection. We have a strong feeling of betrayal and violation if someone strays outside the domain we have mutually established. It is hard to determine which is stronger, the desire to belong or the desire to have someone else belong to me. I don’t think either is helpful or encourages well-being.
The standard of belonging is falsely applied to just about any kind of relationship, so strong is this habit part of me. Attempting to be a dominant force in someone’s life is played out in so many situations: friendships, meetings, organizations. I think none are more damaging than the practices around coupling. In our culture, it is so acceptable, even encouraged, to place someone, maybe only part of them, in a glass cabinet to stare at and admire, to care for and protect, to take pleasure in possessing. Disappointment, jealousy, resentment all can happen if the glass cabinet is ignored.
I hope, instead, to create moments when I can simply be immersed in other people’s presence. Those would be moments when we can see and witness the free spirit of one another, feel the flutter of unfolded wings, not experience the tug of fetters of belonging.
I am sad that land belongs to individuals, that plants belong to gardeners, and that people belong to someone else. It is not the nature of things to belong, and it is not my desire to either belong or to possess. I do not want to take false security in promises of belonging when it is neither mine to give or to receive.
A tremor went through my universe yesterday when I opened the email with the attached divorce decree.
The decree was no surprise. In fact, I had been expecting it since the attorney filed the papers weeks ago. It was something I wanted, to bring some resolution and finality to a break-away process that had been going on for years. It was needed, and in many ways it was a completion that was welcome.
I wasn’t ready, however, for the tremor that went through me and all the foundation on which yesterday rested. All the years of work, of joy-filled days, of hopes and dreams, of struggles and painful times, of raising two boys together. It was in a moment set in concrete and set aside. A chapter had come to a final sentence and the court placed the period at the end of that sentence. It was all done, and truly time to turn the page. I paused.
My head didn’t know about any of this, but my body sure did. The memory of my past 30 years was all summed up in a moment, and my body felt the full force of those years. In the opening of an email attachment, my whole person took notice, and my body was moved by the tremor. It is done, and the whole universe nodded in agreement.
I have been surprised how I can walk through my living garden, even in winter, and the urge to weep bubbles up from somewhere inside. It is a feeling that comes from joy, not sadness. I am suddenly alert the the dam could burst, and the feeling could flow out for the world to see. I fear embarrassment and having to explain something that I am not sure anyone else is feeling.
I looked around the room at the individual members of my Wednesday night Sangha, and I nearly wet myself with tears. Quick, I found the dam, then recovery. I was hanging lights on the edge of my roof, and as I began thinking of the death of my neighbor, Jet, tears crept out at the corners of my eyes. There was no stopping them.
I watched a U-Tube video of a staged exchange on racism. It embodied so much vicious ugliness and inflicted pain. The weepy feeling rose to the surface again, wanting to be released. My whole body resonated with the urge.
Weeping is new and a bit raw for me. I’m not sure if I’m learning how to weep, or if I am unlearning how to not-weep.
The past couple of days, I’ve noticed myself announcing to friends that I’m retreating from Christmas. Now I’m trying to figure out what that means.
The desire and need to retreat from Christmas seems to be rising from inside me for a number of reasons. I certainly have been imprinted with many pleasant emotional links to the holiday. I think I want to stay in touch with them, but with some modifications. I am also aware that there are unpleasant, disturbing resistance and rumblings rising from inside me.
I notice this year that I am repulsed more than ever before by the consumerism of gift-giving. I have tried to address this in the past by making many of the gifts that I give to people. But the dynamics of reciprocity are still troubling to me and often a source of tension. I even get anxious about getting gifts ready in time if I am making them. The idea of going out and buying gifts is so troubling that I don’t think I can do it, except perhaps for my two sons, who will always be my kids.
Black Friday was an extreme turn-off, merchants attempting to stampede consumers into a frenzy of buying, getting good deals. The ads alone were reason enough for me to want to retreat from Christmas. If this is Christmas, I want out.
About an hour ago, I got an email from a relative encouraging me to pledge to say “Merry Christmas.” I am horrified how a pleasant greeting has been turned into a statement of intolerance for non-christians ……. of which I probably am one. I’ve noticed that Trump has hijacked the greeting as a way of expressing his bigotry and creating a rallying call for intolerance..
If saying “Merry Christmas” has become a way of announcing someone’s insistence that this is their time of Christian dominance, that may be my best reason for not using the expression. If this is what putting Christ in Christmas means, that alone is a good reason to retreat from the holiday. I hope no one wants me to have a Merry Christmas just because that is what they are celebrating.
I wonder if I will have the courage to say “I’m not Christian” if someone wishes me a Merry Christmas. How can I have a Merry Christmas if I have retreated from celebrating Christmas. How could I have a Happy Super Bowl if I don’t particularly like football?
I have a friend who suggested we not deal with gifts but instead do something together to celebrate the season. Perhaps we will go to a play, music or dance. That makes so much sense to me, and I will try to put this into practice for just about everyone else. I’ll invite people to come, eat cookies with me, drink something. I like making cookies, so that will fit nicely.
I love this time of lights, and that probably is my greatest excess. Lots and lots of lights on the trees outside. Lots of lights inside my home. And of course there are all the lovely ceramics from my sister and many years past. They all come out, and get arranged in a new way this year. I love the greenery of Fraser firs, and the branches are getting spread liberally all around outside and inside the house. Of course, there is a live tree standing in the living room. I never did get the idea of a fake, plastic tree.
Baby Jesus and the shepherds aren’t on display this year. I have so many other things to celebrate.
I’m still working out how this retreat from Christmas is going to work out for me. My feelings, both positive and adverse seem to be stronger this year, so the struggle is challenging. I want to lean more to the things that genuinely give me joy and stay away from what doesn’t . I want to plunge into joyful things and mindfully let go of things that have lost their meaning and luster.
I have a little over three weeks to work out the details, but already it is beginning to be a pleasant, happy holiday season. Retreating really is growing in appeal.
