Getting Angry

March 25, 2009
Tricycle's Daily Dharma
One Reason We Get Angry
The trigger for much of our anger is frustrated expectation. We sometimes invest so much of ourselves in a project that when it doesn’t turn out as it should we become irate. All ‘shoulds’ point to an expectation, a prediction for the future. We might have realized by now that the future is uncertain, unpredictable. Relying too much on an expectation for the future, a ‘should’, is asking for trouble.
–Ajahn Brahm, from Opening the Door of your Heart (Lothian Books)
Read this Daily Dharma on tricycle.com

Attachment to a Friend

Being attached to something or someone feels good at times. But I've discovered that attachment is also very dangerous.

I have a friend who has just come to me with some news about an old love she's reconnecting with from afar -- by phone and mail. They will meet later in the year, and he plans to stay with her for several months.

When she told me about it, I feigned happiness for her. But inside, my gut honest reaction was one of fear. I know why. I am afraid of losing her attention and attachment to me.

Worse, I feel terrible for feeling this way. I also looked forward to seeing her on the weekends, and she'd spend time at my house at the holidays. And I have noticed that she has stopped visiting often.

The source of my anxiety is being left alone.

But maybe I'm reading too much into this. Is my fear of being left alone...of being lonely...real?

While I do feel lonely at times, it is not an eternal, or unchanging state. The Buddhist concept of emptiness says that nothing is inherently real on its own. I am not alone -- in truth. I have some good friends and a wonderful family of brothers, sisters and nieces and nephews. So my fear of loneliness is without solid substance.

So, if my conception of being alone is so frightening; then perhaps I can change my attitude about this, I can make new friends, expand my world a bit. I can build positive states of mind and situations to sustain me.

But still...we are human...and we develop attachments. I am attached to the idea of "always" having my friend around to keep me company. This is understandable, but not realistic.

Things change. Life changes. People move away and die.

Acceptance of this will help. And of course, I'll have to meditate on letting go.

Your Opinions are the Problem

March 16, 2009
From Tricycle's Daily Dharma

Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.

Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring.

The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself. “It is overfull. No more will go in!”

“Like this cup,” Nan-in said, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

–From Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, compiled by Paul Reps and Nyogen Senzaki (Tuttle)

Letting Go

These days, it's tough to let go.

It's hard to let go of the fear and uncertainty about the future.

As a self-employed writer, at any given moment, I'm thinking about the future of my career, if and when more freelance assignments will start coming my way. I'm thinking about whether tomorrow the phone will ring, and whether it will finally be an offer of work from one of the countless prospects I've been courting for months and months. Will the lunches, dinners, emails, phone pitches, etc., pay off?

It's particularly bad on days when I don't have much to do...or days when the bank balance has chipped way down to cover just a few mortgage payments, and payment for work that I've long completed hasn't yet arrived.

But perhaps this isn't all there is to my fear. Perhaps it's not just fear of unemployment or poverty or losing my house that is so terrifying. Perhaps it's a greater fear. Perhaps my angst is about what will be left of "me," this person who I think I am, if all these distractions, these outside influences, fall away.

Perhaps it's the fear of confronting me.

But this is where I can draw comfort from Buddhist teachings. They say that I am mistaken to believe in a "me." In fact, this collection of feelings and emotions and experiences that I've packaged into an image of "me" isn't solid. I'm not really who I think I am because all that is inside and outside of my body is ever-changing. There is no permanent substance to me or you -- and so it naturally fits that there is nothing to hold onto.

And yet my body, what I have learned through living in this world, prevents me from letting go.

But I want to. I have read many books by learned Buddhist monks and teachers who talk about the freeing aspect of meditation and contemplating the process of letting go, that is, simply being with your feelings and experiences in the present moment.

It all makes perfect sense, and I have at times actually felt glimmers of this freedom during and after meditating. This is our natural state, they say, and fear and worry and living in the past or future is a condition that we have learned from this world.

At some point, I'll have to let go -- no matter what happens. In the meantime, I'll practice. Perhaps practicing is the only thing I shouldn't let go of.

Meditation Tames the Untamed Mind

This great little story is a good metaphor for taming the untamed mind -- through meditation.

What was wild before

As I left my daytime resting place on Vulture Peak,
I saw an elephant
come up on the riverbank after its bath.

A man took a hook and said to the elephant,
Give me your foot.
The elephant stretched out its foot;
the man mounted.

Seeing what was wild before
gone tame under human hands,
I went into the forest
and concentrated my mind.

- Dantika, in Susan Murcotts The First Buddhist Women
from Everyday Mind, edited by Jean Smith, a Tricycle book

Watching Winter

Found this little gem about winter in New England in 1855, as observed by Henry David Thoreau. Reading it, I couldn't help think that no matter how things change, they stay the same...and vice-versa...if that makes sense.

Here in northeastern US in 2008, mid-winter is a mixed affair of sun one day, rain the next, snow another and back to sun. Oh yeah, and maybe some more rain.

Thoreau talks about gutters turning into mill brooks. We have slushy Manhattan streets, which are sometimes best navigated wearing fly-fishing boots.

I've found that the only way to get through bad weather is to watch it, observe its beginning, middle and end. Some years, it's a full-season practice. But if I watch and appreciate it for what it's worth, I might even come to enjoy it.

Thoreau's Journal: 19-Jan-1855

Yesterday it rained hard all day, washing off the little snow that was left down to the ice, the gutters being good-sized mill-brooks and the water over shoes in the middle of the road.

In the night it turned to snow, which still falls, and now covers the wet ground three or four inches deep. It is a very damp snow or sleet, perhaps mixed with rain, which the strong northwest wind plasters to that side of the trees and houses.

I never saw the blue in snow so bright as this damp, dark, stormy morning at 7 A.M., as I was coming down the railroad. I did not have to make a hole in it, but I saw it some rods off in the deep, narrow ravines of the drifts and under their edges or eaves, like the serenest blue of heaven, though the sky was, of course, wholly concealed by the driving snow-storm; suggesting that in darkest storms we may still have the hue of heaven in us.

Today's intention - November 1, 2007

Today, I will be. I will simply experience what is and refrain from judgment. I will be...and observe all else fall away.

A little bit of insight...brings a little bit of calm

From Tricycle Magazine's "The Daily Dharma"

October 29, 2007

Our Minds are Used to Thinking

Our minds are used to thinking, but when we want to become calm and peaceful that is exactly what we have to stop doing. It is easier said than done, because the mind will continue to do what it is used to doing. There is another reason why it finds it difficult to refrain from its habits: thinking is the only ego support we have while we are meditating, and particularly when we keep noble silence. "I think, therefore I am." Western philosophy accepts that as an absolute. Actually it is a relative truth, which all of us experience.

When we are thinking, we know that we are here; when there is no chattering in the mind, we believe we lose control. . . Our first difficulty is that although we would like to become peaceful and calm and have no thoughts, our mind does not want to obey. . . So instead of trying over and over again to become calm we can use whatever arises to gain some insight. A little bit of insight brings a little bit of calm, and a little bit of calm brings a little bit of insight.

- Ayya Khema, When the Iron Eagle Flies

from Everyday Mind, edited by Jean Smith, a Tricycle book

Being the Space Within for Our Millions of Moments

Do you ever feel trapped by your mind...that you are what you think, and that there seems to be just no way to shut off the stream of non-stop repetitive, sometimes obsessive, maybe even harmful thinking? Is nighttime sleep the only way you can escape your mind?

If you feel this way, I encourage you to read "The Power of Now," as well as the companion book "Practicing the Power of Now," by Eckhart Tolle.

I read these books a few years ago, and every once in a while I find myself browsing through them to re-absorb some truths . The brightest gem is that the best way to calm the mind...train the mind...is to stop thinking about the past or the future and learn to abide in the present moment.

O.K., easier said that done. But if you read Tolle, or better yet listen to him (which I had the occasion to do -- in person -- this past weekend in New York City), it is the only rationale thing to do. And in this case, the rationale way feels good.

As Tolle says, there is no past and there is no future. These are just words that we've invented to explain the phenomenon of time. The only thing that is real and tangible is the present moment, which is always slipping away.

When we allow ourselves to be immersed in the present moment -- pleasant or unpleasant -- we truly embrace life. There is no thought to the past, and none given to the future. After all, isn't the future just our projections of our hopes and our fears?

Listening to Tolle, I thought of a truly wonderful moment in my past that I had the good fortune to be aware of as it was happening: holding a sleeping infant on my chest.

It was my nephew, and as I sat there on the couch, the house perfectly still, I listened to his short breaths and smelled his clean hair. I had a blanket around us both. My brain stopped thinking and I started feeling. I realized that this was a moment where I wasn't required to make a judgment. I didn't need to wish it was better, or that I wanted to be somewhere else.

All I needed to do was be. All I need to do was feel...to experience what was happening.

It's a great memory of a single moment that I'll always treasure. Tolle's point is that all our moments, whether we're at work or at home holding a baby, can be like this.

But it takes work. First, we must realize that we are not our thoughts or our personal histories. How can we be if these things are constantly in flux? Instead, our real true self is the great quiet, the stillness that resides in us all. It's a formless entity that is part of the universe, and which we all share. It is God for some. And we can only begin to find that through cultivation of stillness -- rather than relying on our thinking.

Meditation, especially the practice of Vipassana, is a great way to get to know our true selves. During practice we focus on the sensations and feelings of the in and out breaths. How does it make our body feel? Where does it interact with our body?

We acknowledge distracting thoughts but release our attachment to them -- in order to return 'home' to our breath. Vipassana helps me build the discipline to trust my inner wisdom rather than my busy, chattering mind.

This past weekend, Tolle offered another powerful and on-the-spot way to cultivate the present and to remain there, despite distractions, negativity, or any circumstances that may come our way during our day. Tolle suggested that we say internally: "Can you be the space that encounters this?" Can you be the space that calmly observes something purely for what it is -- without projecting our fear or judgments onto the situation?

When I first heard that expression, I envisioned creating a ring of space between me and anything that I might encounter -- let's say a negative, critical judgment that my mind manufactures about myself or another. But then I realized that that space is me already, not something that I must create.

This space is fluid and formless...but not empty. It is the highest knowledge, the sacred of the universe, the wisdom beyond what the world knows. It resides in me and in you. It resides in all of us.

Abiding in that space and witnessing our millions of moments allows us to observe without prejudice, make wise decisions, to act with kindness and compassion to ourselves and others.

But best of all, abiding in the space, the true identity inside us, allows us to be in each and every moment. It is the best gift that I can give to myself.

Why I fly my flag

Flags. I see so many of them these days.

Americans like to hang their flag. For decoration, out of feelings of pride, and for some, I suspect, blind patriotism (my country -- right or wrong).

I hang my flag when I feel patriotic, but that doesn't happen much these days -- considering who we've got as president and his abuses of power and disregard for the waste of human life each day in the war in Iraq.

I hang my flag when I see our constitution working the way it was designed, chiefly, limiting the powers of government when it steps over the line of abuse. I hang it when I remember someone who fought and died in defense of human rights.

I hang it when I see a Muslim man praying in the street of a very "American" village, almost exclusively Christian, a place where people sometimes ignorantly equate Islam with terrorism. Recently, in my town, I saw a man prostrate himself in the street, facing Mecca. Perhaps he was afraid, but he did it.

It made me feel patriotic and so I hung my flag. Read the full story about what happened in my Waking Up column on United Press International.

By the way, what makes you feel patriotic about your country?

The Space Between our Fingers

From Tricycle Magazine's Daily Dharma: July 7, 2007

Looking At Our Hands
Peace is a natural mind-state in every one of us. Peace has been there since the day we were born and it is going to be there until the day we die. It is our greatest gift; so why do we think we have no peace of mind?

Experiencing peace is like looking at our hands. Usually, we see only the fingers--not the spaces in between.

In a similar manner, when we look at the mind, we are aware of the active states, such as our running thoughts and the one-thousand-and-one feelings that are associated with them, but we tend to overlook the intervals of peace between them.

If one were to be unhappy or sad every minute of the twenty-four hour day, what would happen to us? I guess we would all be in the mad house! --Thynn Thynn

This Fleeting Moment

A sensation appears, and liking or disliking begins.

This fleeting moment, if we are unaware of it, is repeated and intensified into craving and aversion, becoming a strong emotion that eventually overpowers the conscious mind.

We become caught up in the emotion, and all our better judgment is swept aside. The result is that we find ourselves engaged in unwholesome speech and action, harming ourselves and others. We create misery for ourselves, suffering now and in the future, because of one moment of blind reaction.

But if we are aware at the point where the process of reaction begins--that is, if we are aware of the sensation--we can choose not to allow any reaction to occur or to intensify. . . in those moments the mind is free. Perhaps at first these may be only a few moments in a meditation period, and the rest of the time the mind remains submerged in the old habit of reaction to sensations, the old round of craving, aversion, and misery.

But with repeated practice those few brief moments will become seconds, will become minutes, until finally the old habit of reaction is broken, and the mind remains continuously at peace. This is how suffering can be stopped. -- from Tricycle magazine's Daily Dharma, June 26, 2007

Ella the Master Communicator

Sometimes toddlers don't talk. While other children around them are trying out new words and simple sentences, they remain silent.

Personally, I don't think that matters much to the kids who aren't talking. But it worries the adults who love them and who anxiously want to see them grow.

Ella is a two-year-old girl who has been diagnosed with Apraxia of Speech, in which the brain's "talk" command signals get garbled on their way to the muscles in the mouth, palate, and tongue.

But Ella is nonetheless eloquent in her own right. She's learning American Sign Language and is undergoing speech rehab and other forms of therapy. In the meantime, all you need is a few moments in her presence to hear her language of love...and sharing. She does it with hugs, smiles, dancing.

And a reverent bow.

To read more about Ella, check out this commentary I wrote for UPI and published by the Apraxia-Kids.org website -- for their May 2007 newsletter.

Emptiness is Really Full of Substance

Emptiness is filled with good stuff.

The Buddhists are always talking about the wonder of "emptiness." This is a central tenet in their belief system -- and it means that all things in the universe -- a person, a place, an event, an idea -- are without their own, distinct identities. The substance of whatever it is -- animate or inanimate -- has been influenced and created by eons of previous causes. People, objects share common matter. Ideas, philosophies are made up of a world of shared thought -- undying through the ages.

But what implications does emptiness have for the world? What's the reward for taking this philosophy to heart?

Well, for one, if we all share the same elements physically -- and our minds are enriched by a living pool of thought that's continually finding new ways to express itself -- what's the point of dividing ourselves with distinctions and judgments. And hey, some of those identities we give ourselves and others are pretty harsh; aren't they?

Sound interesting? For more, check out my United Press International interview with the Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche, a very cool spiritual leader of the Shambhala tradition of Tibetan Buddhism. (One reason why he's cool is because he meditates while he runs.)

What to do with Words Award - April 19, 2007

Fran is a good friend from my meditation circle. With her infectious smile and kind eyes, she exudes good will. And she's very sensitive.

Fran gets the "What to do with Words Award" today for an email she sent around earlier this week. Her spirit was crushed by the suffering at Va Tech, and she reached out to urge us to spread some love around -- suggesting we offer a kind smile to a stranger. It's a counter-move, a love strategy against hate.

Since she sent that message to a few of us, others in the group have passed it on to still more. I'd like to think it'll make its way around the world.

This phrase from Fran's email particularly struck me: "It is time for all of us to start showing the compassion we all have inside, to all our fellow human beings. I refuse to believe that the world is full of hate and violence."

WMD - Working Man's Dharma - 4-17-07

I think that I can do a very valuable service to myself and others if, during the course of a day, I notice what arises inside me.

To notice fear arising is a tremendous accomplishment. It's significant because, to notice and name it, halts -- even for a few moments -- its hijacking of sweet reason...our naturally divine and kind nature.

I can hold fear and observe it, as it arises. I can feel it in my guts, my nerve endings. Then I don't have to be fear. It is no longer my identity. My fear becomes simply what it is -- an emotion.

And in that instant of objective viewing, I divorce it from... the argument...threat... or hostility of some person I am fearful of. And the argument, threat or hostility of some person remains simply those things, and nothing more.

How much more equipped am I then to begin making peace?

WMD - Working Man's Dharma

Today, I begin sharing WMD -- working man's dharma, as in lesson or teaching.

To share a teaching, spread the word...you have to admit a few things:

- that you know some things
- what you learned you got from someone else

So let me start off doing that. I do know some things, certainly not every-thing. And I've come to know them from everybody around me -- family, teachers, friends, writers. They are people who have passed their truth and knowledge onto me.

So, I'd like to return the favor. Please consider what I have to offer.

WMD for Monday, April 16:

Today, my intention, my very hopeful intention -- is to experience all that happens to me without holding onto judgment of them. I want to simply hear what others have to say. May I see. May I feel. May I encounter life and resist attaching a label to the experience, a label that lasts, a label that can't be peeled off.

May I allow myself the pure emotional experience of liking or disliking something that I encounter -- a Dogwood tree breaking the rainy gloom with pink buds... or a uncaring remark lobbed at me by someone. May I feel the joy arise in my body when I see new life come to a tree. And may I know, too, the dejection of a hurtful remark.

But may I remember to let pleasure and pain pass on to where they belong. May I see the wisdom in letting my thoughts and desires and disappointments arise and slip back into the universe.

May I know them, and when it is time, may I let them go.

Thoreau's Journal - Listening

What is Thoreau talking about in the following diary passage?

He speaks of the wind and the noise of a toad. But he also reminds us of the magic that happens when we quiet the mind to observe what rises up and falls away:

"When I stand out of the wind, under the shelter of the hill beyond Clamshell, where there is not wind enough to make a noise on my person, I hear, or think that I hear, a very faint distant ring of toads, which, though I walk and walk all the afternoon, I never come nearer to." -- Henry David Thoreau, from his journal, April 5, 1860

Tara Brach on Compassion

Author Tara Brach gets the "What to do with Words Award" for April 4, 2007.

In an interview for my "Waking Up" column on United Press International, Tara talked about how tough, critical we are on ourselves and how we can replace that with compassion. It's the essence of her book, Radical Acceptance, Embracing Your Life with the Heart of a Buddha."

In our interview, Brach talked about how we cease to identify with our turmoil when we choose to stay and observe our discomfort -- rather than run from it. A new person emerges. From the article:

"The bottom line in the Buddhist teachings is that, in the moments that you stay, instead of replaying your old routines ... your whole sense of who you are shifts," notes Brach. She adds that "rather than being the fearful self or the anxious self or the self trying to get away from feeling afraid, you become the awareness that is simply being present and holding."

The sufferer becomes the space of compassion, adds Brach. To stay present and then become that presence is "the only way to wake up out of the trance of unworthiness."

The handle of my shovel

When I grip
The metal handle of my shovel
to clear the snow
It burns my Fingers. Well,
It freezes them, actually. I
Don't get what it is that happens,
Really.