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“Play”?

How do we play out our lives?

Do we play them as though in a game with our interests at stake?
–Using strategies and cleverness in order to cross the finish line,
Walking away with a win and winnings
Which allow us to no longer have to play any more.
Is this merely a gamble in order to find completion and escape at long last?
Does such a stratagem ever see beyond “my”?

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Or do we play as those fulfilling a role to the best extent we are able?
–Our actions echo within a greater interdependent whole, no separation,
“All the world’s a stage”.
Our roles are mysterious, but we fulfill them to our utmost, nevertheless.
Do we have the courage and compassion to face our lives with such play?
Can we see that there is no “mine” to escape from and with?

In line with the second, we could play as the musician.
–Playing our lives as music would require creatively flowing from note to note,
Harmonizing with the laws of the universe which govern acoustics,
Creatively jamming with our fellow artists…
One melody: the unfolding moment of now.
All of existence is the orchestra.
A cacophony only when I assertively play what “I” want above the melody.
Can we hear this and improvise accordingly?

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Mindfulness: The Great Challenge

Mindfulness doesn’t live and die on the cushion.
It’s a journey, an opportunity,
In every moment.
I can be here, present:
Composed and compassionate
Serene and serendipitous
Open and observant
Or I can be lost, confused:
Reactive and restricted
Selfish and selective
Dormant and dogmatic.


The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step
-Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching §64, Trans. Jonathan Star

The Sage worries not about the journeys or tales of yesterday. Nor does he lose sight of the beginning step while looking at the future destination beyond the horizon. Knowing both, he steps forward, feeling every inch of ground in this step–right here, right now. The Sage’s secret wisdom?–This step is the only step. Each step is the beginning step. Each step is the whole journey. The only step to take is the one underfoot right now. The only journey is the current movement of the leg and foot, and there is no greater miracle than this. The Sage takes this step with awareness and gratitude–not lost, elsewhere, and not attached to any outcome.

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The present is direct and straightforward. Your experience of it is heightened through mindfulness. When you are mindful of your breath in meditation, when you mindful of your thoughts, or when you are mindful of going from the practice of meditation to dealing with the kitchen sink, all those situations are in the present. You don’t borrow ideas from the past, and you don’t try to fundraise from the future. You just stay on the spot, now.

That may be easy to say, but it’s not so easy to do. We often find it satisfying to have a reference point to what might happen in the future or what has happened in the past. We feel more relaxed when we can refer to past experiences to inform what is happening now. We borrow from the past and anticipate the future, and that makes us feel secure and cozy. We may think we are living in the present, but when we are preoccupied with the past and future, we are blind to the current situation.

Living in the present may seem like quite a foreign idea. What does that even mean? If you have a regular schedule, a nine-to-five job, you cycle through your weekly activities from Monday to Friday, doing what is expected of you and what you expect of yourself. If something out of the ordinary occurs, something that is completely outside of the routine of your Monday-to-Friday world, it can be quite disconcerting.

We are bewildered when something unexpected pops up. A flea jumps on your nose. What should you do? You swat at it or you ignore it if you can. If that doesn’t work, then you search for a memory from the past to help you cope. You try to remember how you dealt with the last flea that landed on you. Or you may try to strategize how you’ll prevent insects from bothering you in the future. None of that helps much. We can be much more present if we don’t pay so much attention to the past or expectations of the future. Then, we might discover that we can enjoy the present moment, which is always new and fresh. We might make friends with our fleas.
-Chögyam Trungpa, Mindfulness in Action, pp. 46-47.


May this inspire you to mindful presence in this moment.

Gassho!

 

 

Experience in Meditation

What arises in this moment?
“Joy”?
“Agony”?
“Nostalgia”?

Can you openly be present to it?
Whatever it may be?
So many butterflies
And moths, flitting about…

Don’t react. Just feel–fully.
Just anger.
Just lust.
Just sadness.

No narrative yarns following these swarms.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
No attachment.

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May this inspire you to meditate.

Gassho!

Facing the Blank Page–The Unfolding of Tao

Here’s another interesting set of thoughts from my Morning Pages. It speaks to creativity, wu wei, and insight around our interdependent arising with everything.


Eating brunch–well, soon to be. It’s been a couple days, journal. I hope that this day is beautiful for all sentient beings out there and that those going through the wakes of storms and disasters suffer not at the misfortunes of the world’s changes.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write about again. That’s the first time I’ve said that in a while. Isn’t that wonderful: the thrill and anxiety of the blank page? What will come out? Who knows! As long as one resides in this appreciative, open view, it’s truly a joy to face the blank page. Then it becomes an act of faith in the process, a creative lightning bolt of positivity, and an easy flow along with the unfolding of what is in this moment. That’s right (write? 🙂 )–it’s an action of wu wei. Mastery is only important insofar as to have the skill to flow along without resistance.

So the question is not: what do “I” create (i.e. what do “I” as masterful agent do?)? Rather, it is a letting be of the creative process.

My thoughts and easy smile seem at odds with the liveliness of the little cafe right now, but that just invites me to smile wider. How many creative moments will unfold today as I go through the ebb and flow of deeds and feelings? How many people’s lives will I come into contact with, even just in passing as two apparent egos passing in the night? Such moments of pause are truly a wonder–if thoughts about consumption, desires, aversions, etc. don’t pull you away from the thought experiment.

Stop. Contemplate: how many myriad lives are in this room with me right now? Don’t stop at the obvious–you and other people. There are bacteria, insects, dust mites! Billions of little specks of life pop in and out of existence around and inside of you all the time. They come and go–emptiness manifested and reformed to another manifestation. This is Tao–the 10,000 things and the mother of the 10,000 things. On a larger level, there are 100s, 1,000s, 1,000,000s of people in your city, state, country, and 1,000,000,000s around the world. Then, there are countless planets, stars, galaxies. Don’t worry about your little passing desires. Stop and see your unfolding in this miracle, and hold this insight in your engagement with all of the unfolding. One mind–no separation.

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“It is not possible that this unity of knowledge, feeling and choice which you call your own should have sprung forth into being from nothingness at a given moment not so long ago; rather this knowledge, feeling and choice are essentially eternal and unchangeable and numerically one in all men, nay in all sensitive beings. But not in this sense–that you are a part, a piece, of an eternal, infinite being, an aspect or modification of it, as in Spinoza’s pantheism. For we should have the same baffling question: which part, which aspect are you? What, objectively, differentiates it from the others? No, but inconceivable as it seems to ordinary reason, you–and all other conscious beings as such–are all in all. Hence this life of yours which you are living is not merely a piece of the entire existence, but it is in a certain sense the whole; only this whole is not so constituted that it can be surveyed in a single glance. ”

The universe implies the organism, and each single organism implies the universe–only the “single glance” of our spotlight, narrowed attention, which has been taught to confuse its glimpses with separate “things” must somehow be opened to the full vision, which Schrödinger goes on to suggest:

“Thus you can throw yourself flat on the ground stretched out upon Mother Earth, with the certain conviction that you are one with her and she with you. You are as firmly established, as invulnerable as she, indeed a thousand times firmer and more invulnerable. As surely as she will engulf you tomorrow, so surely will she bring you forth anew to new striving and suffering. And not merely ‘some day’: now, today, every day she is bringing you forth, not once but thousands upon thousands of times, just as every day she engulfs you thousands of times over. For eternally and always there is only now, one and the same now; the present is the only thing that has no end.”

–From Alan Watts’ The Book pp. 98-99; Quoted sections herein originally from: Erwin Schrödinger’s My View of the World pp. 21-22.

May this help you see beyond you as an island, an ego amidst all–controlling creativity as a forceful act of “I”, “me”, and “mine”.

Gassho!

The River of Life–on Existence and “Separation”

Here’s another set of Morning Pages philosophical thoughts. Enjoy!


Floating through–a bubble on the surface of a river. The fragility of it and the shining beauty–yet not separate from muck and refuse also floating by in the water. Separate? Does such a word make any deep sense? Of course the bubble is distinct from the banks of the river, but where does the bubble end and “the river” begin? Also, could one truly be without the other? You may say that the river could, but it would be a different river, and would either be without the banks? What is separation?

This image is a metaphor for life, and the last point stands to remind us that “my” life as separate, as independent, is equally implausible. The universe would not be the same without me in it, but we usually stop there and make this into some sort of grand creed of the ego–“My existence is of universal importance!!!” Thus do we beat our chests at the confusion and existential anguish of the questions: “Why am I here? What is the point of it all?” Thus do we cover over our fear of death and nonexistence, trying to overlook how that bubble could so easily pop and that we cannot begin to understand or conceive of what it would be like to dissolve from bubble into river–to have the “I” dissolve into whatever it may become when this body pops in its own way.

We must not stop with this roar at the uncertainties of our embodied, impermanent life. The other point was that I am not separate from the universe. The bubble would not be, if not for floating along on the water. Words deceive here. It is not the river, and yet it is the river. It flows differently than the water around it, but it is composed of the same water and shows us merely a different way that all the particulars of the river’s flow can manifest, albeit briefly, as one possible occurrence in the ever-changing flow of flux.

Bubbles floating on a river...

Bubbles floating on a river…

Here is the mystery. Here is Tao, shunyata, Source, or the divine spark. Here is what you should spend your time observing. The universe universes the universe, right here, right now–right everywhere, right always–and “I” am not a separate, “independent” observer. I am that unfolding splendor in one tiny, localized manifestation, clearly not the whole yet not separate from the whole. Such mystery cannot be adequately represented in words, only indicated, only shownLook.

May All be happy.
May All be healthy.
May All be at peace.
May All live with ease.


May this bring you insight and inspire you to look deeply at all you encounter.

Gassho!

Thoughts and Letting Go–The Mind’s Kite

This is my first deep writing in a while. Yet again, it appears unexpectedly in the open space of Morning Pages. Enjoy!


Here we are… Another day. It’s great to be writing in this moment. As I slow down and attend to the process, I feel utterly awash with sensation. There is so much detail–sound, smell, light, touch, vibration–in every moment. Usually, though, we’ve shut much of it out as we narrow our vision/smell/hearing/etc. to some small set of attention. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, its’ somewhat necessary. There’s so much to experience that we can’t hold it all at once. It’s the same with our thoughts. A quiet moment of mindfulness reveals that they are a legion; however, in most moments, we’re running along with one in particular as though it were a huge kite yanking along a child on a windy day. The funny thing in each instance is our lack of awareness of the process and possibility in each. With sensation, we forget that there is so much that we are closing out in this moment, or maybe, we don’t forget as much as not even realize that’s happening. With the thoughts, the same: we don’t realize that we are holding onto that kite string and running along with them (the thoughts). Meditation can show us both that there is so much to be aware of in every moment, bodily, and so many thoughts flitting by, mentally. It can open us to our full unfolding, right here, right now. It also shows that those thoughts are not “me”. I don’t have to run along with them. I can just as readily let them go–that kite can just fly away. It is only in grasping to it that I give it the power to pull me here and there. I can just as readily watch it fly on the wind without feeling its pull. Whether that kite is in the shape of the most beautiful butterfly or the most terrifying dragon does not make it any more enduring, any more absolute. It’s just another passing moment, another gust of wind. In grabbing onto the string, I keep it flitting about in the broad, open expanse of my mind; otherwise, it will pass out of sight soon enough, and I have the opportunity to watch it soar by without mistaking that string and kite as an extension of myself–as an immutable truth that defines me.

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In this moment and in every “now”, “I” am a flux of all these sensations and thoughts, a huge amount of possibilities manifesting in reality. It’s one small fold of the universe universing itself; it’s an unfolding emergence; it’s a human becoming.

May All be happy.
May All be healthy.
May All be at peace.
May All live with ease.


May this help you let go of that kite, seeing the unfolding potential that is in every moment. May you find the liberation of not grasping onto thoughts and definitions, thereby taking the first steps out of the orbit of samsara.

Gassho!

Visit to the Tsubaki Grand Shrine

Recently, I went to the Tsubaki Grand Shrine–the 1st Shinto shrine built in North America (although moved from its original location in California to the current one in Washington State). It’s only about an hour drive from my place, surprisingly enough.

It’s located in some serene woods northeast of Everett, WA. It sits nestled amidst trees, alongside a soothing river. I can think of no better location for a religious shrine of a tradition that praises nature in all of her rhythms, cycles, blessings, changes, and unfoldings.

There were many altars, laced with traditions and rituals, speaking to the genuine Japanese heritage of this shrine–not some second-rate American attempt. For instance, there was a column with the animals of the Chinese zodiac carved around it, chasing each other endlessly through the ongoing years of the calendar.

Chinese Zodiac Column - Tsubaki Shrine

There was also a basin with long-handled wooden ladles for cleansing one’s hands and face before entering the nearby door to the shrine proper. The basin lay below an awning, keeping the water from being fouled by falling leaves, and a wise, kindly dragon stood above and behind it, his stony visage protecting from spiritual impurities.

A few steps away, a thick rope hung from another awning, attached to a large bell. This implement for announcing oneself at the temple entrance was above another basin–this one empty of water, but the open space was meant to collect offerings from visitors.

Tsubaki Shrine entrance

I’m standing at the entrance in the background, and the washbasin is in the foreground to the right. The description of the shop that follows is hidden behind the washbasin area.

To the right, a window displayed many small amulets and talismans that visitors can purchase for blessings in the year ahead.

My companion and I asked questions about the amulets, and the middle-aged, Japanese woman called out to her “sensei” to help us. She disappeared behind a partition and was soon replaced by a white-haired, Western man in his later 50s who answered our questions with gusto and greeted us to the shrine. He even let us inside to use the restroom despite the entrance having been cordoned off for the day already.

He pointed out a “portable shrine”–a large, golden relic atop wooden struts with colorful supports holding the shrine in place–and explained there are festivals which will require this. One is in Bellevue in September. We immediately agreed to go.

Here it is as well as the shrine’s reverend. This was found on the Northwest Public Radio’s site: nwpr.org.

After this, we walked outside and looked at the other altars for blessings and contemplation below the main shrine. There was a small enclosure, overgrown with moss and populated by some kami. Nearby, there was a board to hang small plaques with wishes for the kami to read and bless.

Guardians

Here are the guardians sitting atop a boulder in that small enclosure.

Further down the past was a large stone orb on a pedestal with instructions for a prayer that should be said three times while rubbing the orb. It is supposed to bring overall well-being to one’s life and relationships. This pedestal overlooked the peaceful course of the river below, which we walked down to and admired after each struggling to pronounce the Japanese prayer (written out for us poor gaijin in Romaji, so it was possible to phonetically sound out) three times. 🙂

Good Luck Prayer

Here I am saying the prayer and rubbing the orb.

Near the pedestal, there was a simple post with the wish that peace prevail on Earth written on it in numerous languages…

May Peace Prevail

The peaceful post with the river in the distance…

Finally, at the end of the path below the main shrine was a small shrine adorned with statues of mystical, white, Japanese foxes–those magical creatures of Japanese lore. This shrine had several of the iconic Japanese arches before it–in red and gold.

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Just beyond the arches, before ending at the fox shrine, there was a large stone in the shape of what looked like the yin from a yin-yang symbol. A plaque explained its meaning as well as the tripartite Shinto symbol made of three of these swirling icons. The plaque said that Shinto beliefs hold that the entire universe down to the structure of subatomic particles is composed of spirals. Thus, the spiral is a symbol for revering the myriad and mysterious unfoldings of nature. I was awestruck by this simple yet profound praise of Nature in a quaint forest glade. Here was a simple pointer to the wonder of All rather than “my” mastery of it.

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“I am sure everyone who visits the shrine is struck by the mysterious and undeniable beauty and the peaceful atmosphere that surrounds it. These are things I still notice everyday when I arrive. I find the earlier mornings at the shrine to be a true treasure because these are the times I can feel the world awakening around me. I love walking down the main path, listening to the birds and the river while seeing the morning sunlight shining through the trees. I can’t help but feel connected at these moments.

I’ve noticed while helping to maintain the shrine grounds it can often feel like you’re fighting an unwinnable battle against the forces of nature. You can pick up hundreds of leaves but more are constantly falling onto the ground, areas that have been cleared of weeds all of a sudden have weeds again a week later, and areas that have been raked soon need raking again. However it has dawned on me that maintaining the shrine grounds is not a struggle with nature but is instead an important part of the natural order of the shrine. Leaves fall and I pick them up; it’s part of the cycle. In a way it’s a balancing act between nature’s chaos and the human need for order. By clearing the shrine grounds, you get to be a part of the process.” — Teddy Rodriguez, a volunteer who helped maintain the shrine for some months–taken from the Shrine’s newsletter

May this adventure inspire you to see your engagement and interaction with nature. May it help you see your place within it, not different, not separate–but a piece of the whole; spirals all the way down.

Gassho!

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