Category Archives: sitting

The marvel of awareness

Posted on by
Reply

Nothing too memorable about my zazen this morning, just marveling that everything I experience is inside awareness. Everything I experience is awareness. Experience is awareness.

Who can even know how big awareness actually is? Maybe you, I, and everything in the universe, material and immaterial, every thought, feeling, idea, and dream, are made of awareness. Or maybe we are awareness.

Maybe the universe is awareness, and each of us is an instrument of its awareness. Whether we want to or not! Whether we try to or not! Whether we’re awake or not!

I understand those pictures of deities with a thousand eyes all over their bodies now. They are trying to convey this specific awareness.

Now the question is, how is it that we can not notice this? It’s like there’s been a conspiracy to make all other kinds of things important, and that’s where I spent my attention. Where I spent my life.

But this has been the underlying truth all along. Just waiting for me to recognize it. Like that dream I had years ago, where I was watching some people dancing, and they were dancing because I was watching. Reciprocal awareness.

We are swimming in awareness all the time! All 7 billion of us humans. Not to mention plants and rocks and soil and air and stardust. All aware.

Ah! Existence is awareness!

Now try this: re-read this and every time I wrote the word “awareness,” substitute the words “being aware”.

Why not a Zen labyrinth?

Posted on by
3

It’s past 8 pm and I’m just now posting about my zazen 12 hours ago.

I remember giving a lot of attention to my head and face during the body scan, feeling my energy body. Definitely life force that seems to vibrate so quickly it has a presence. My presence, the presence of me.

Whole body awareness, with emphasis on noticing sounds again. The sounds of traffic are different on Sunday morning than on Saturday. There seem to be fewer trucks.

I also noticed bird song coming from several directions and imagined birds in trees in my yard and my neighbors’s yards. There was one sweet bird song in particular that I associate with spring.

And sure enough, even though it is February, the mist this morning burned off, and it was sunny and near 70 degrees F this afternoon.

I walked barefoot on grass — walked a rope labyrinth during our extended lunch break that Katie had set up at NLP practitioner training — and it was a lovely experience. I walked it Zen-style — doing kinhin, hands at solar plexus, one hand held in a loose fist with the other palm wrapping it, eyes cast downward, taking small slow steps.

I couldn’t help but lift my eyes to take it all in several times. Spiraling in toward the center, pausing for a moment, then spiraling back out. I felt more open and loving for having walked it.

I bowed before entering the labyrinth, and when I finished, I turned to face the center and bowed again.

I miss practice with my sangha! Different place, different people today — but me the common denominator, bringing Zen kinhin to a labyrinth.

Noticing sounds

Posted on by
Reply

Today after I did my body scan, I recognized that I have often paid attention to my body in meditation — to pain in all its varieties, to pleasure, my chakras, my energy body, electricity.

My sense of hearing has been neglected. I gave it attention today.

I heard nearly constant sound from nearby I-35. A low hum, punctuated by an occasional loud vehicle. I can’t see it, but I imagine the louder traffic sounds are from big trucks or motorcycles and the low hum from cars.

Then there’s the sound of the occasional car driving past my house on this residential street. It sounds closer — the direction is slightly different.

I heard a conversation. It was between two men speaking English, coming from next door near the street. Laughter, a cough, as punctuation.

Inside my house, the slight hiss of the gas stove in the hallway.

The sound of my cat’s feet padding up to me, and her purr.

Then there’s the internal sound I usually filter out — the ringing in my ears. It’s  not exactly ringing like a bell, though. It’s closer to the sound a cricket makes, but constant.

I don’t know what this sound is. Am I hearing my own body at work? Is it my blood pressure? Or is it some malfunction of hearing that comes with aging? I don’t remember hearing it when I was younger. When I first noticed it a few years ago, I felt annoyed about it, and now I’ve gotten used to it. I am curious about the source.

My attention wandered from one sound to another. At times I seemed to hear it all coming in, and then I would notice something I hadn’t noticed before. My breathing.

I noticed that it is difficult for my attention to become engaged in an internal dialogue when I am attending to external sounds.

Everything I heard during zazen were sounds I usually ignore. Background noise, insignificant. Today these sounds filled the space around me and inside me. They entered my ears and filled my attention. The sounds of life as it is.

Body scanning practices

Posted on by
2

Twofer today. I was tired yesterday morning and didn’t meditate until about 8 pm. My granddaughter was there, and when she left, I felt tired and didn’t post.

Hannah spoke to me several times while I was sitting yesterday. None of what she said seemed to require a response, so I didn’t respond. She’s not used to spending time with me when I am meditating and thus not available for interaction.

She had earlier expressed an interest in meditation. I offered to sit with her for a few minutes. She decided computer games had more appeal and mostly played while I sat.

I got to notice how sitting was different for me, having her there, hearing her speak to me, and not responding. She was okay with it.

This morning I did my sitting before work. Took my time today scanning my body.

Sometimes I do it very quickly, from head to toe, all in the length of one breath. I’ve had practice moving awareness and energy from crown to toe and back up my body, coordinating with my breath.

(Through my NLP work I learned some shamanic practices. The Q’ero Indians believe that light energy entering the crown comes from the center of the cosmos, and as it proceeds down the body and out the feet into the earth, it carries with it hucha, heavy energy that only humans produce. (The Q’ero say humans accumulate it from not living in reciprocity with the earth.)

The earth receives and detoxifies the hucha moving out of the body through the feet. You exhale when moving energy down.  You can also do this seated, with the hucha flowing out of the body at the base of the spine.

And then, breathing in through the feet and bringing clean earth energy up the body and out through the crown connects your little spot on this planet with the center of the cosmos, in the process clarifying you.)

At other times when I scan my body, I linger on areas that feel tense or uncomfortable.

However, sometimes it feels good to do a slow, detailed body scan. Today I did that, starting with feeling all the areas of my forehead. Then eyebrows…eyelids…eyes…lower lids…temples, and so on.

It felt just right to do that.

Healing is a mystery and a delight

Posted on by
Reply

This morning, during zazen, I felt energetic pressure across the bridge of my nose. That area might be considered part of the third eye chakra. I’m not sure.

The energy was mildly pleasant and seemed to grow in intensity as I noticed it. It was a kind of light buzz, a slight tingling sensation.

It lasted for awhile — I’m guessing maybe 10 minutes.

Then it departed/my attention moved on. (Which of those came first, I have no idea.)

Later, I noticed it again, feeling lighter and milder than the first time.

The story that came to me about what’s going on is from my cranio-sacral therapist. She commented that our bodies are constantly rewiring themselves, and that rewiring occurs in a process that begins with intense activity, then a pause, and then a new pattern emerges. (My paraphrasing of what she said, don’t recall exact words.)

She said that the process speeds up with yogis and meditators.

So that’s what I think may have been happening. There was a pattern covering the bridge of my nose. That pattern had a burst of energy as it prepared to release. Then a pause, which was the release of the pattern. Finally, a milder sensation in the area, signifying a new pattern.

The story is really pure speculation on my part. I notice that I really want what I experience to make sense. I notice that I enjoy a really good story! I notice that I know it’s a story, and I don’t really know anything.

I don’t have a clue about what the pattern was, when I acquired it, how long I had it, or what experiences it was in connection with. This is often the case.

What’s most interesting to me is that my body/mind knows how to heal, if I get out of the way. And even without a story, the experience unfolds with mystery and delight.

Awareness is everything

Posted on by
1

Awareness is everything.

Okay, I’m going to bed.

Can the world be different?

Posted on by
Reply

Spent much of the morning online, catching up on Facebook and email, and finishing reading a remarkable article I started last week, The Women’s Crusade.

Here’s the link: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/23/magazine/23Women-t.html

The article mentions a nonprofit in Hyderabad, India, called Prajwala, on page 3. A 14-year-old Hyderabad girl from a poor family was forced into prostitution in New Delhi under false pretenses (a job as a maid). She witnessed the murders of 3 other girls who resisted. She was never paid and often beaten.

Eventually the police freed her and returned her to Hyderabad. She was taken in by Prajwala, which teaches new skills to girls rescued from brothels. She now earns a decent living as a bookbinder, is getting an education and helping put her younger sisters through school.

The thesis of the article is this: “With education and with help starting businesses, impoverished women can earn money and support their countries as well as their families. They represent perhaps the best hope for fighting global poverty.”

Here’s another quote: “In Asia alone about one million children working in the sex trade are held in conditions indistinguishable from slavery, according to a U.N. report…. India probably has more modern slaves than any other country.”

The wheels of my mind and heart began turning. Here, listen to them creak:

This is happening in India, the home of yoga, a practice that I love, that has given so much to me, and to so many other Americans, who are fortunate enough to be able to take yoga classes and go on yoga vacations and retreats.

Wow, this is the kind of reporting (from Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn) that I would pay for. It’s not just about how bad things are. The article notes a few organizations that are making a difference in places around the planet.

Most beautifully, it provides a big insight into how to make the seemingly impossible actually happen — end poverty by focusing on educating and empowering women.

Creak. What if, and this is a big what if, American yogis adopted Prajwala as their nonprofit of choice, to give something back to the country that gave us yoga?

I emailed Prajwala with questions. It’s not as easy as you think — they don’t take PayPal, for one. I want to know how to help — not just by giving money, but by connecting American yogis to Prajwala. How can I best proceed? Ideas welcome!

My mind was churning with this when I sat on the zafu. First my body became still, then my breath slowed, my mind slowly slowed, my energy softened.

It’s not about me. It’s something moving through me.

It comes from a heart that has repeatedly been horrified by how humans can treat each other and a mind that wants so much to believe that the world can be different.

I ask you, can it?

Being present in my own life more

Posted on by
2

Ha! I am just this minute getting off the zafu. Just as the pain in my hips really got to me, and I thought, “I have to move — this is unbearable,” the chimes went off. The pain had been mostly in the background until that moment. Little victory dance!

It’s been about six weeks since I began meditating daily. I’ve written about my experiences on the mat, the insights gained.

Today I want to convey more about my experiences off the zafu — how meditation has carried over into my non-sitting life.

It hasn’t solved my problems or made them go away. Well, maybe some minor problems became non-problems, while others have become clearer, standing out in more relief.

It does seem to have given me more faith that when it’s time to make decisions, I will make the right decisions. I have less trepidation about going through life. I am an Enneagram type 5, a fear-based person. This is a good thing, people.

Meditation may have changed how I relate to time. It feels like there’s more “now”, that time passes more slowly, or it may be that I notice more. Noticing more on the mat extends to off-the-mat awareness as well.

I seem to have more patience, more ability to allow moments to unfold, without jumping to conclusions or having knee-jerk reactions. Not that I never do that any more! Not at all. But I do that less, and I stay present more.

This feels like a kind of grace to me. A slow, ineffable, deepening, widening process of getting in touch with my own humanness is occurring, concomitant with becoming a daily meditator.

I don’t want to miss out on my own life any more, the life that happens when you’re making other plans, you know?

It’s working.

Wandering Mind and her family, Thoughts, Equanimity, Chakras, Pain, Curiosity, and Moments of Emptiness, came to visit

Posted on by
Reply

Today is a day off work. Slept in, started laundry and set dirty dishes to soak, then sat.

Really, there’s not much to report from today’s sitting. Nothing really new or different. I sat, did body scan (now tied to breath), and then Wandering Mind and her family, Thoughts, Equanimity, Chakras, Pain, Curiosity, and Moments of Emptiness, came to visit.

I thought about last night’s class on the Diamond Sutra. Sometimes things seem funny to me that no one else is responding that way to, and I keep my mouth shut. The way Subhuti and the Buddha spoke to each other sounded exceedingly formal to my ears, and some mischievous part of me wanted to insert the word “Dude” in there. So pardon this indulgence.

“Even so, Dude, if a noble son or daughter should set forth on the bodhisattva path, how should they stand, how should they walk, and how should they control their thoughts?”

“Well, said, Dude! Well said. So it is, Dude. It is as you say.”

I am probably not cut out to be a scholar.

The gist of it is a paradox, which in my admittedly limited familiarity with Buddhism, seems most characteristic of Zen. “…I shall liberate [all beings]. And though I thus liberate countless beings, not a single being is liberated… And why not? Dude, a bodhisattva who creates the perception of a being cannot be called a bodhissatva. And why not? Dude, no one can be called a bodhisattva who creates the perception of a self, a being, a life, or a soul.”

Who creates the perception? See, this is something people struggled with in 400 BC too. Maybe creating a perception means interpreting experience. Maybe creating a perception means naming. We did an exercise in knowing and softening to not knowing.

Flint Sparks, the Zen priest who taught this class, brought up Jill Bolte Taylor’s video and book, My Stroke of Insight, and her description of right-brain awareness, as a way, in my perception, of helping us grok the shift in awareness from ordinary left-brain thinking that the Dude is pointing to.

But I could be wrong.

Insights about pain

Posted on by
Reply

Sitting this morning, I noticed that when I sit, it doesn’t take long for pain somewhere in my body to come to my attention.

Could it be an artifact of how I usually pay attention? Beta waves? Intriguing concept, but I don’t have a way to know.

Anyone got a good used biofeedback machine for sale? I’m not joking. I’d love to play with getting feedback on my brain wave patterns.

Am I looking for the pain? I don’t think so. Maybe it’s more that when I close my eyes and my internal dialogue stops, I become aware of my body — specifically aware of the places that are feeling pain because those sensations are most intense.

And  yet they are parts of a whole body-mind system.

I reminded myself that there were vast areas of my body that were not feeling any pain. I gave some attention to them. What does it feel like to not feel pain?

At first, I didn’t feel much of anything. Just “normal,” whatever that is. Then I noticed that I particularly felt strong in the core of my body — from my sit bones up through the center of my torso, neck, and head, it felt as if a nice strong column was holding me up. Being yoga! Yes!

The areas that do feel pain are usually small. A twinge here, a pulling sensation here. Rarely are they larger than a muscle, and usually they seem to be part of a muscle or an adhesion in the fascia that separates muscles. Rather, the nerves associated with those places are what feels pain, or so I’ve been taught.

Learning about pain is part of yoga. If you stop stretching as soon as it feels uncomfortable, you will not lengthen your muscles and become flexible and open up your meridians. In yoga, with time, you learn to recognize when pain is telling you, “Hey! Back off!” and when it is telling you, “Just breathe and hold this a little bit longer, and that muscle will release.”

I suppose it is the same with meditation. Pain may be one of those frequent visitors to the guesthouse. How can we become more at ease with each other?

I feel grateful and astonished that I have a nervous system that works! What a miracle that is, one of the myriad miracles under our very noses all the time. Just like the miracle that most of my body isn’t feeling pain!