Barry Garden Path

I’m feeling embarrassed.    This week, when some very dear friends were expressing gratitude for ancestors, I didn’t relate at all.    My parents are an exception, and I keep a photo of them before me.   At least twice a day I look at them, two young people, no children yet, and I am grateful for who they are.

I really don’t feel that way about the rest of my ancestors.   Gratitude for them comes with great difficulty and is specific for only part of the inheritance they gave me.    What they have left me is a social mess.   I look around at a human-stained world replete with broken societies and humans like me forced to live in a sub-human condition.

I’m lucky.    I have received an inheritance that allows me to eat, have shelter, be curious about the world from a position of safety.   My ancestors have left me a world highly populated by starving people living in fear.    This is not a natural inheritance but the legacy of greedy people who hoarded resources while people around them suffered.    It is not just my contemporaries who hoard, but generations of humans who grabbed more than they needed and so others went without bare necessities.

My ancestors, for thousands of years, have selectively chosen their own survival at the expense of others.    For me, human history for the past ten thousand years is a sad picture.    It is a story of survival of the fittest at the expense of the suffering of many.    I have adequate food and a home not just because my ancestors were frugal, but because many of them were cunning enough to suppress the needs of others.   Humans are very smart that way.

I live in a marvelous city in a supportive neighborhood, unrivaled by few.   Yet within this city are huddled thousands of impoverished people, all in “their” place.   This is not something I caused, but the generations before me were clever in how they required their contemporaries to live in sub-human conditions and in fear.    Less subtle were the generations before me who beat and tortured people to keep them in their separate, subservient place.

I have a nice house and garden in a nice neighborhood.    It is nice because it has been socially fenced, protected from a whole group of people who are considered less suitable.     Some neighborhoods are unashamed to actually build walls to keep others out and separate.

I know that I have inherited a lot from my ancestors for which I am grateful.   Sadly, much of what they have made available to me was hoarded out of greed and self-indulgence.    Even my intellectual inheritance has been kept for the few.   As a consequence, many others have suffered.    Now I am puzzled over what to do with this rich, privileged and stolen inheritance.

I am grateful that I can experience something of what it means to be truly human.    I have been given safe refuge and opportunity.    I have had teachers who have pointed me toward rich experiences.

But what of all those who live sub-human lives because of the advantage seized by generations of my ancestors?     How do I sit beside people on the bus who are suffering while I am at peace, thanks to the efforts of our ancestors?   Somehow, it seems wrong to be grateful.

I once found it comforting and reassuring to pray.   It felt nice to think that someone was actually listening to what went through my mind.    I was not alone; I had a serious companion who heard me.   I  even thought that there might be some kind of effect from my praying.    It might actually change the course of natural events, make someone get well or have a safe trip.    Perhaps burglars would not break in because I had put in the proper request.    Maybe someone smiled because I acknowledged their greatness.

I don’t do much of that any more, even though I occasionally lapse back into reaching out with words to an unseen presence.    For me, to be aware is to pray.    I pray to the bus driver when I feel and acknowledge his presence.     I almost fall down on the floor of the bus and touch my worshiping forehead to the floor when someone passes by down the isle of the bus.

I pray to the hard, cold bathroom counter and honor its presence.    I greet the flowing shower water with praying reverence.    I pray to the carpet as I push my breathing face  against it while doing morning stretches.     My whole body is an act of prayer as my bell vibrates and bathes me in its sound.  My feet touch the pavement of Hennepin Avenue, and I pray to the whole world I feel below me.

I ask for nothing except to be able to be present.   I do not seek to change or affect how things turn out, only to be a reverent witness.   I do not try to make suffering go away or avoid it, only to absorb and become one with it.  I don’t aspire to remove the suffering of others, only to join them.

My relationship with praying has changed.    But if someone would ever ask me, “Do you pray?” I would most certainly say “Yes”.    My whole body would shout, “Of course.”

 

( Mindful Movements are described on the posts for September 28 and November 1.   I currently do the Movements described on September 28. )

 

Every morning I do two minutes of mindful movements.    For me this is a deliberate action I take at the same time as others in the world do the same.   I notice the flow of sensation and energy in my body, aware that others sometimes do the same.    We share a similar awareness of movement and, by attending to our body movements, link the consciousness we share.

Each day, some of us collectively recognize the common unity we share.   Whether we are paying attention or not, we are all sharing in a common consciousness.   For the two minutes of mindful movement, we pay attention to that consciousness.  We choose to focus our experience on that shared  consciousness.

Once a day, we deliberately enter into and experience that collective consciousness.    Through movement, we are able to open to an experience of a unity that links us all.

I become more convinced that I live in a collective consciousness.    I live in a world that my awareness has shaped and my reality is the result of the shared consciousness with other humans.    My immediate culture and the family I have come from have had the greatest impact on the shape of my world.    I continue to choose experiences that shape that world, moving into other realms that differ from my previous ones.

It is so apparent that advertising shapes and conditions my mind.   That is what makes it effective and successful.    Choosing experiences apart from advertising is one way of not living in a world of expectations shaped by ads.

All the rest is the same.   There is a consciousness that connects me with the rest of the hive, and it is shaped by what experiences humans choose.    My challenge is to recognize this connection with the vast consciousness and develop my own independent awareness.

Experience flows in to insight and insight shapes my actions.   I don’t think I can ever be completely disconnected from the collective consciousness, but I can shape the way in which I funnel my experiences into my own consciousness.

I have this notion that “want” is something other than “desire”.    When I say that I want something it feels different inside of me than if I say that I desire it.  However, I am still working it out.

For me to desire something is to feel the energy of attraction.    It is a  feeling response.   There is actually no decision involved except the decision to experience.   For me, desire is what I feel when I see anything around me that I choose to experience.    It happens when I drop boundaries, when I choose to allow something to possess me.  My heart opens to a flower, a person, a sound and they become part of the world that I feel.

Desire is a statement of attraction.   I am involved only in as much as I am being very aware, open on more than a cursory level.

For me, if I want I am more actively involved.     My ego is front and center. My focus is on me and my role .   My self is part of the action and the experience is not neutral.    The choice is not to experience something as it is but to pursue it and make it part of me.    I am not attentive to making me part of it.    I am very aware of me and my edges, and I want to bring it inside those edges.    Desire has no edges;  it is an opening to experience, not to possess.

Desire acknowledges the oneness that already exists.    Want attempts to create a oneness, as though it did not already exist.    Want relies on my doing something.    Desire relies on deep observation.

All this musing is about understanding how I relate to the world and how I choose to experience it.   I would like to be a person of rich desires and meager wants.

All my life I have had the key and didn’t know it.   It’s beginning to make sense, and now I think I had the answer with me all my life.   Everything seems to fall into place if I reach for the key, something I’ve had with me all along.     My body is the key.    When I experience my mind and body joined, everything is joined.   Everything is also released.    I experience a freedom more than I could have imagined.

Learning to experience my breath has been so important.    It has put me in touch with my body in a most intimate manner.    Actually feeling the energy and sensation in my hands when doing Tai Chi Chih has also allowed me to form an intimate relationship with my body.   Realizing this connection has allowed me to go back to my body.

The irony is that so much of my culture has either encouraged me to fear my body or indulge it.   There truly has been a middle way.

While I am amazed at what I have discovered, I am not totally surprised.    All my life I have resisted those worriers who tried to teach me the dangers of the body.   I have instinctively pulled away from mindless excesses as well.   Now I am starting to understand why I was so wary.

I am also finding it interesting that I don’t have to “do” anything.   I just have to allow myself to experience what my body tells me.    There is no effort.   Breathing is not effective as an action.    It is effective for me only if it allows me to experience, to intimately feel my body.    It “works” only if it brings me back to my body, joins mind and body.

My body is actually an easy key to use, like using my fingerprint to unlock my iPhone.   I experience intimately what my body knows, and all barriers disappear.    My feet touch the asphalt of the parking lot, and I melt into what my body knows. I move my hands through the air like thru pudding, and the energy inside of me rises.   I feel my breath, and it is like placing my finger on my iPhone.   A whole universe is opened in an instant.   Tension disappears, freedom surges through all of me.

My body is a pretty amazing key.    I’m learning how to use it better.

It’s really quite simple.    So simple I am amazed I have not seen it before.  Squeeze / Release (Suffering / End of Suffering).     When I feel things out of sorts, when I feel tightness, when I feel the squeeze reaction in my stomach, that is something to notice.   It is time to pay attention to it, watch it, but only for a moment.  Then it is time to  allow release.    Give my mind something else to do.    Allow things to simply be and not change them.   I don’t cause the release.   The release simply happens.

My mind loves to solve problems.    It is drawn to disorder like a compass needle  pointing north.   My mind sets up the tension, wants the disorder to go away.   Maybe it even offers ways to make it go away.    My human mind has evolved to be very good at performing on demand.   It likes to solve problems and is constantly searching for problems.    Best to give it something useful to do.

Sometimes putting the mind to work actually does solve problems.   Mostly it simply quivers at distraught attention, the pointer dog who sees the bird, strikes a tense pose, and can do nothing.   It wants to act, and sometimes it unskillfully springs unbidden into action, solving problems without being released to solve them.   My mind wants the problem to go away, and tension arises.   I feel the tightness, I feel the squeeze.

For me it helps to give the mind something constructive to do, like paying attention to my breathing.    My mind is like an anxious puppy, wanting to spring into action.   Sometimes it is good to toss it a bone to gnaw on. I send it to my breath, the sensation in my fingers, the touch of the parking lot on my feet.   I don’t make the tension or suffering go away.   It simply ends.

I have lived with the tension of “getting my act together” long enough.   Wanting to act creates tension, the squeeze.    Most of the time it is about something I cannot have an effect on anyhow.   The tension and squeezed feeling is a sure sign it is time to allow the release.

My mind wants action, and most of the time that is wasted effort.   Allowing the mind to convince me that “I have to do something” causes me to suffer, to be tense, to be squeezed.   I don’t want the suffering, but it is what happens.

As soon as I unskillfully yield to my urge to “make it go away,” I know I am being squeezed by my mind.    It is simply a good time to skillfully give my mind something else to do.   It’s actually that simple.

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On September 28, 2017, I listed the first Five Mindful Movements.     These are movements that not only serve to  connect my body and mind.    They also connect me with others who are practicing the same Mindful Movements most days.    Typically, those of us practicing these movements daily, try to do them between 6:30 and 9:00 in the morning.    I hope you will join us.

If you want  illustrations of the movements, contact me at barryschade@gmail.com

Mindful Movement #6

This exercise is called The Frog.

Begin with your hands on your waist, heels together, feet turned out to form a V, so  that they make a 90 degree angle.  Breathing in, rise up on your  toes.

Breathing out, stay on your toes, keep your back straight, and bend your knees.   Keeping your upper body centered, go down as low as you can, maintaining your balance.   Breathing in, straighten your knees and come all the way up while still standing on your toes.   From this position, repeat the movement three more times, remembering to breathe slowly and deeply.

 

Mindful Movement #7

In this exercise, you touch the sky and the earth.

Your feet are hip-width apart.  Breathing in, bring your arms up above your head, palms forward.  Stretch all the way up, and look up as you touch the sky.   Breathing out, bend at the waist as you bring your arms down to touch the earth.   Release your neck.  From this position, breathe in, and keep your back straight as you come all the way back up and touch the sky.

Touch the earth and sky three more times.

 

MindfulMovement #8

Start with your feet together and your hands on your waist.  Begin by putting all your weight on to your left foot.  Breathing in lift your right thigh as you bend your knee and keep your toes pointed toward the ground.   Breathing out, stretch your right leg out in front of you, keeping your toes pointed.  Breathing in, bend your knee and bring your foot back toward your body.

Breathing out, put your right foot back on the ground.  Next put all your weight on to your right foot and do the movement with the other leg.

Repeat the series of movements three more times.

 

Mindful Movement #9

In this exercise, you make a circle with your leg.

Begin with your feet together and your hands on your waist.   Put your weight on your left foot and, breathing in, lift your right leg straight out in front of you and circle it to the side.   Breathing out, circle it to the back and bring it down behind you, allowing your toes to touch the ground  Breathing in, lift your leg up behind you and circle it around to the side.   Breathing out, continue the circle to the front, then lower your leg and put your foot on the ground, allowing your weight to again be on both feet.   Now do the exercise with the other leg.

Repeat the series of movements three more times.

 

Mindful Movement #10

This exercise is done in a lunge position.

Begin standing with feet together.   Keeping your left foot where it is, move your right foot out so your feet are wider than shoulder-width apart and turn your right foot out 90 degrees.   Keeping your weight on both feet your body will naturally turn slightly toward the right foot to find a comfortable position angled between your two feet.  Put your left hand on your waist and your right arm at your side.   Breathing in, bend your right knee bringing your weight over your right foot as you lift your right ar with the palm of your hand facing outward in front of you, and stretch it to the sky!   Breathe out as you straighten your knee and bring your right arm back to your side.

Repeat the movement three more times.   Switch legs putting your right hand on your waist.

Repeat the same movement on the left four times.  Then bring your feet back together again.

 

You have finished the Ten Mindful Movements.   Stand firmly on your two feet and breathe in and out.   Feel  your body relax

 

I certainly don’t  always act this way, but I enjoy putting things in order.   I like following habits of behavior.    I like the feeling of a clean, orderly home with things put away.

There is a lurking danger in this pleasant experience.   I seem to take such satisfaction in it, and so I am wary and cautious of the hidden effect.   Is the satisfaction of brushing my teeth the same way every day at the same time, in the same place a stroking and encouragement of my own ego.   “There, I did it right again,” I seem to feel when I am done.   I’m not sure I want that.

Such deliberate consistency can be a source of pride that I can act such and such.   What I really want most is to experience, to understand to be aware.   Acting rightly, properly, and consistently is not what I want.

Habits can be very convincing that there is order and permanence in my life.   Things will always go well, they will turn out in a predictable way if I just do the right thing.   I get so attached to this habit of acting correctly that I develop the illusion of permanence.   My own repeated actions can conspire to convince me that acting correctly is the Way.   My following an orderly path can convince me that the future can be predicted and controlled.    I can be robbed of the very experience that is constantly new, brings awareness, develops insight.

Perhaps, unlike the advice I give my son, I am better off if I don’t always place the silverware correctly on the side of my plate.  Maybe if I don’t always find my silverware in exactly the same spot, I may be more aware that the silverware is there.    I may actually experience the silverware, not pick it up out of habit from its customary place.

A plan can be a useful thing to get me through the day, but its value in guiding me some kind of right action is over-rated.   The value of a habit is that we can do things without thinking about them.   I don’t think that is so important, and may actually be unhelpful.

Consistency in my behavior can bring a certain order in my day, but it can also undermine awareness and insight.

More than any other learning, I think I am newly experiencing what it means to be human.   This is not something I’ve been told or taught.    There is no secret body of information, no doctrines, no sacred and ancient texts.  I am simply experiencing what a human is capable of experiencing.   And I really like it.

There has been a whole tradition of teachers who have shown the way, the direction, the path.    But no one could deliver the secret teaching to me other than my own experience.   Others have shown how they have done it, but my receiving the teaching has meant that I needed to experience something.   There is nothing to believe, nothing to discover except what my experience has taught.

It is a relatively simple path, not paved with doctrines or revelations.   I can invite companions to join me along my path, and I sometimes join them on theirs.    But the learning only comes from our own individual experience.

The tradition of teachers who have shown me this path of learning sometimes speak of the Four Noble Truths that are signposts on the path.   These are the  core teachings handed down from the Buddha generation after generation, based on his own experience.   It has seemed to me that everyone who has told me of the Four Noble Truths in writing or in talks have described them in a slightly different fashion.

This is probably consistent with the directions given by the Buddha not to believe what he has said, but to seek our own way.   He has taught his way of freedom as the Four Noble Truths, but the teaching and the learning is actually in my own hands.   The teaching and the learning rises from my own experience.

Leading a good, ethical life is a good beginning for following this path.    For the most part, this is the path I have followed.    Yet there is still something not quite right, things seem out of sorts, the pleasure of  goodness is ephemeral and transitory.  In spite of being ethical, I encounter a dissonance in my own life and see it all around me.

Recognizing this unsettling tremor in my life is an important teaching /  learning experience on my path.    For me, and for anyone following the path of the Buddha, choosing to be totally open to this experience of dissonance, being willing to be totally aware of it, is an important step down the path of freedom.

Wanting things to be different is a main cause of the suffering, a cause of the dissonance.   Clinging to my notion of how things should be or being repelled from the unpleasantness of how things are causes my dissonance.    I have slowly become aware that the source of the dissonance lies in me.

That is the ‘secret teaching’ that I can only learn from myself.    The suffering is not mine nor the world’s.    It arises from how I encounter the world.    It arise in the relationship between the world and me.   Here is the paradox for me:    the more I yield to being aware of the suffering, the dissonance, the more I am not possessed by it.    The more I embrace the suffering and dissonance, the more I am released.

I know this not in my head, but I feel it in the fullness of my body.    I am aware of it not because of what some teacher has told me, but because of what I have myself experienced.    The lesson goes much deeper than the admonition “fear not.”   It comes from befriending my fear, and I am gradually being set free.

I know that my path is a winding path of liberation from dissonance and suffering.   It seems full of surprises, and I seem to be taking baby steps along that path.    I know that some people refer to this as the middle way of the Buddha, the Fourth Noble Truth.

Actually,  I think it is my path, where teacher and learner walk as one.   For me, it is a joy filled path that I sometimes get to walk hand in hand with friends.   We share notes  and support one another.    We are discovering at the same time what it means for each of us to be fully human.