Category Archives: mind

The Buddhist precepts

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I’m taking a class at Appamada Zen Center on the Buddhist precepts. Yes, I know I’m overextended — full time job, yoga teacher training, NLP activity, this blog — but it meets only once a month on a Sunday evening.

A precept is a commandment, instruction, or order. The Buddhist precepts come from the monastic tradition and have been adapted for laypeople. We use the book Waking Up to What You Do, by Diane Esshin Rizzetto. Here’s a link to it on Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Waking-What-You-Intelligence-Compassion/dp/1590301811

Rizzetto presents the precepts as aspirations: “I take up the way of speaking truthfully,” for example.

I view the precepts as an invitation to increased mindfulness. A teacher, a book, and classmates make it a connecting, learning, growing experience.

In class, we’ll be covering one precept from the book per month. We journal at least weekly and assess ourselves periodically. I will be including my journaling here on this blog.

My spiritual awakening story

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This is as good a time as any to tell you the story of how I first came to experience myself as more than just this body and personality.

Although I was raised as a church-going child, I would not have described my parents as particularly spiritual. My dad was an Episcopal minister, and that was his primary livelihood until I was 11. There was no question but that we would attend church, and I did it with gusto. I liked the feeling of being in the church, especially when it was silent. The high ceilings, stained glass, smell of beeswax candles, pipe organ, rich fabrics, hard pews, dark wood…

I sang the hymns and memorized the prayers. My brothers and I snuck over and rang the bell one Saturday, which was fun. We took turns swinging from the bell rope. Later we got spanked. My mother often seemed tense about our behavior around church members.

I liked Jesus from what I’d heard, although he seemed remote, and I pondered on the Holy Ghost. Sacraments – the outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace – held fascination for me, but grace seemed elusive, something that adults were smug about and didn’t let kids in on.

Church-going tapered off in adolescence. In my 20s, I became a “Chreaster,” attending church only at Christmas-Easter .

Fast forward to August 20, 1984.  I was on my first ever solitary vacation – five days/4 nights in Santa Fe – at age 31. I left my 3-year-old with her dad and took off from Norman, Oklahoma, where I was working on a degree. It was a budget trip – I drove and stayed at a hostel-type place.

During the days I walked a lot, marveling at the quality of the light and clarity in the air there, and visited museums, art galleries, did the usual touristy stuff in SF.

In the late summers then, and maybe still, the Santa Fe Opera held performances of  the most well-known arias performed by opera students from around the country.  It was truly only about the singing – none of the dialogue, no sets, no costumes. I’m thinking now that it was a massive audition by opera students for jobs with opera companies, and the public was invited to listen.

The performance was at 9 pm on a Monday night, and I had driven to the opera house earlier that day to get my $5 ticket. I got to explore the marvelous architecture of the Santa Fe opera. It’s an open-air facility. A roof overhangs the stage and cantilevers out over the audience, from what I recall, leaving the sides of the stage open to the beautiful mountain scenery.

I returned at 9 pm, wearing jeans, carrying my backpack. The performances had started. Not many people were there. I stood at the back, just taking it all in. I let my backpack slide to the ground.

A soprano was singing. I have no idea which aria it was, but the sound was beautiful, unearthly.

The skies to the north were storming.  From the back, I looked down at the singer and noticed lightning bolts flashing to the sides and behind of the stage. I could almost smell the ozone. I began to feel chills, and then…

… it was as if a bolt of lightning pierced my crown chakra and went down through my body into the earth and stayed there for several long moments.

I didn’t know what hit me, but I definitely felt hit by something. There was no pain, and it didn’t feel like an assault. I was hit by light coming from some unknown source, a light I couldn’t see but could sense.

The experience gradually faded. I could hardly listen to the rest of the performances, I was so puzzled about it. Why me? Why then and there?

I was familiar with the concept of chakras and had been practicing yoga for a couple of years, but I didn’t have anyone to talk about this with who could tell me anything I didn’t already know.

It was an expansive moment in a small life that had no context for it. It shook me. The invisible hand of God threw a different kind of lightning bolt into my head, and it pierced me through and through.

After that, I definitely noticed when my crown chakra was open, and later my third-eye chakra, and so on. I  have since come to understand that the crown doesn’t open for many people, and yet all I have to do is put my attention there, and it opens.

My perspective now is that it was an initiation into my energy body.  Was I chosen? If so, for what? Who can know the truth of this?

I do know this. It was grace.  And I am attracted to energy consciousness, energy movement, energy healing.

Making friends with myself

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The third wheel of attention in meditation, according to Chogyam Trungpa, is making friends with yourself.

After six months of daily sitting using the technique of whole body awareness,  I have gotten views of my whole life that have deepened my compassion for myself and for other human beings.

When I was a child, under the surface of civility and compliance, all sorts of disturbing awarenesses arose. Confusion, doubt, helplessness, inarticulateness.

For instance, at times I concluded that something was wrong with me, that I wasn’t good enough, that I was being judged and didn’t meet the standard, that no one understood me, that it was not enough just to be myself, that what I felt didn’t count.

These are painful thoughts to think and feel about oneself. Yet show me the person who has never experienced this.

These thoughts occasionally arise even now, on and off the cushion, and I now am quite aware of the emotional pain that accompanies them.

Maybe the most worthy response to awareness of suffering is compassion. I don’t believe there is really a purpose for suffering. It just happens as part of the human experience.  And, it is often a catalyst for growth.

So for all children, and for all those who have survived childhood, I feel compassion. It is hard to grow up. If you’re reading this, congratulations on making it.

I notice fluctuation in how I feel about myself. Some days, full of confidence and vigor, other days, full of doubt and sorrow. Many days, both. Whatever it is now will change.

Part of making friends with myself is beginning to see how I create my own suffering. How I have punished myself, how I have viewed myself as being much smaller than I really am.

I have sold myself out by not dreaming big enough and believing in my dreams.

I can now stop doing that each time I become aware of it. It feels great each time I stretch into my Large Self!

I love this quote from Mark Twain:

I am an old man and have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened.

The task now is to know which ones never happened, and to respect the ones that did happen and note their lessons, and all let these past troubles go.

Photo added, two more blogging tasks

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Yay, I added an image widget with my photo to this blog!

Friend Katie suggested that I post one because people like to see what bloggers look like. Here I am!

Actually, Katie took this photo, in a restaurant after a day of NLP master practitioner  training sometime in 2009, I think.

It’s a snapshot, capturing a moment, rather than anything I prepared for, yet I liked this moment. The photo captures a moment of joy and presence. Of all the photos I have of myself, this one best represents meditating.

Hmm. I could ask someone to take a photo of my face when I’m actually meditating and post that. Stay tuned.

I have two more blog chores to accomplish: first, learning how to make the type a little larger (haven’t found a text-sizer widget for WordPress yet, am inexperienced with behind-the-scenes tinkering), and secondly, recording the “Waiting for the love of your life” post – it is actually a guided meditation, at the request of friend Jazz – and posting the mp3 file.

If you have any experience or advice for accomplishing these tasks, please give me a holler.

Six month assessment

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The year 2010 is nearly half over. I have meditated daily for 30 minutes consistently if not perfectly for 6 months.

It’s time to assess my own progress: I have entered a period in my life that is marked by experiencing myself as more whole, healthy, happy, grounded, centered, engaged, energetic, positive, loving, playful, present, alert, aware, appreciative, grateful, and full of equanimity, vitality, wonder, and compassion than I was before this year of meditation began.

Some things have remained the same from the start: I’m still working where I work and living where I live, although I have spent time really examining these two major components of life and I feel open to change. I know myself better and might make different choices now, and I can live with the choices I made in the past for the time being. I appreciate what these choices have allowed me to experience.

I’ve been fairly regular in weekly attendance at Appamada on either Wednesday night or Sunday morning and having a practice inquiry session (“meditation coacing”) with Peg each time.

I’ve continued my association with NLP: I finished assisting for the first time at Best Resources’ NLP practitioner training in April. It was more relaxed to learn it all the second time and to help newbies learn it.

I feel closer to my family than before.

I still go monthly for acupuncture and cranio-sacral work and every 3 weeks now for chiropractic treatment.

I still have my yoga practice.

Things that have gone by the wayside: I joined a gym in February. I went when the weather was cold. I haven’t been since late March. I should quit and save that money.

I also went to a couple of Flint Sparks’ classes at Appamada on the Diamond Sutra. Not sure why, but it just didn’t jell. I dropped out.

I’ve undertaken a few new endeavors since beginning this year of sitting: I agreed to be the program director for the Austin NLP meetup.

My friend Katie and I started a Peripheral Walking meetup here in Austin in January, and I assist her with our monthly meetup.

After 12 years of doing mostly Iyengar-based yoga, I began yoga teacher training this month. That’s a big commitment — in time and money. I’m deepening my practice and learning a skill and gaining a credential that I will use in my future.

I also committed to participate in the Zen precepts program at Appamada, which meets monthly for a year and includes journaling and self-observation. We’ve had one meeting so far. The course is based on the book Waking Up to What You Do. I will write more about this because it ties in with this blog really well.

I’m also taking part in an advanced NLP study group taught by Keith Fail on strategies.

So I’m full, overflowing even, with wonderful activities, learning, and sharing.

I know myself better and see a path into my future that I like, and that path leaves a lot of space for the Universe to teach me as well.

If those of you who know me in person or who read this blog notice anything that I’m not noticing, please feel free to bring it to my attention in the comments.

Waiting for the love of your life

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We’re going on a little journey, so get ready.

First, find 20 minutes when you won’t be interrupted.

Next, find a quiet place to sit where you won’t be interrupted, perhaps in a chair (where you’ll sit with your back erect, not leaning against the back of the chair, and with the soles of your feet flat on the floor) or cross-legged on a cushion. You’ll probably want to elevate your butt about 3 inches. Use a zafu, a firm cushion, or folded towels or blankets.

Turn off your phone and other distractions.

Ready? Shake the tension out each leg. Shake out your arms. Wiggle your spine gently. Wiggle the tension and stiffness away. Shrug your shoulders and drop them a few times. Work your neck. How’s that?

Now sit, spine straight but not stiff. Close your eyes and open your mouth. Start checking in.

First, your breath. Feel the air entering your nostrils, expanding your chest, leaving your nostrils. Feel your body’s natural movements with each breath. Without any forcing, allow your breathing to become smooth, steady,  relaxed, and comfortable.

Check in with your head next. Feel all the parts. Especially notice any tension in your eyeballs and around your eyes, in your tongue and lips, in your jaw. Relax them. Let your jaw hang open.

This is important: I want you to get a look on your face as if you are in the dark, and a greater love than you have ever known is nearby. If you try to pursue it, you drive it away. It must find you, and the only way for it to find you is for you to be still, silent, and aware.

This love operates on s-l-o-w time. You have to match its pace for it to find you, so believe that for right now, for just this moment, you have all the time in the world to make this connection.

You are being patient and anticipating this connection at the same time. Your face has a look of wonder on it. Keep this look on your face. If you lose it, come back to it.

Now notice your neck and shoulders. Sometimes we collect tension in habitual places. Notice where these places are on your body today and relax them. Imagine each inhalation going directly to the tension, dissolving it, then each exhalation taking it out of your body.

Move down your arms, hands, fingers with your awareness.

While checking in with your back, also see yourself from the back in your mind’s eye. See yourself sitting there in silence.

Slide your awareness down the front of your body, releasing any tension you find.

Now check in with your pelvis — back, sides, front, bottom. Again release tension.

Move your awareness down your legs, feet, and toes. Notice how your entire body feels. Glowing? Lighter? More relaxed? Alert?

While you were scanning your body, love started permeating your cells. Now you are really starting to feel it. Each moment, you are becoming more and more immersed in love. Take your time and savor it.

Now, in your mind’s eye, view yourself sitting there from the front. See yourself with your eyes closed, jaw open, look of wonder on your face, suffused with love. You can move your point of view to straight overhead, to the side, wherever you want — just get a good look at yourself sitting there.

For the rest of your sitting time, let your awareness move as it will from noticing your whole body, to releasing tension from parts, to noticing the love of your life permeate your being, to being open to your experience.

(Thanks to Vivian, a member of my sangha, for having this look on her face for me to catch a glimpse of, thus inspiring my meditation and this post.)

Mystery: strange left eye energy

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Strange energy tonight in meditation. From the start and often during the half hour, I  was aware of a different sensation above my left eye, inside my head. Not pain, not pleasure, more like the ever-so-slight pressure of the subtle body’s energy.

Even with my eyes closed, I felt like I saw differently. My sense of vision seemed to be clearer.

Now, as I type this, tired at the end of the day, I do feel like my left eye’s vision is more dominant than my right eye’s. The pressure sensation is still there. There’s a space in there that’s simply different.

In NLP, when a person’s eyes look up, it indicates they are accessing a mental picture. One side is remembered, the other is imagined, and these can be different on different people. For me, looking with both eyes up and left signifies a visual memory.

This is different. It has nothing to do with eye movements. It’s there no matter how I move my eyes.

Another mysterious so-called side effect of meditation. “The Mystery” can be really specific sometimes, like tonight.

I’m back, sitting without pain and with more spaciousness

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I haven’t posted for about two weeks because I haven’t had internet access at home (short version: dead tree fell and took down cable; long version: it involved finding someone to rescue the bee colony living inside the dead tree), and I’ve been super busy at work with no time to sneak a blog post in.

So here I am. This little break from blogging has given me some perspective. Here are some of my newest revelations:

  • After about 3 months of daily sitting, I stopped hurting for the most part. My body learned to accommodate the practice of sitting in stillness for 30 minutes without pain. I am grateful for this. Mind you, the pain of sitting was never severe. It ranged from just-above-the-radar discomfort, to mild pain, to stiffness, tightness, hurting toward the end of a session. Sitting through the pain with awareness taught me about the variety of sensations called “pain,” and that it’s dynamic, constantly changing. I didn’t know this would happen. I thought pain was part of it.
  • I have a sense of having more spaciousness within. I’m really unsure how to put this into words. How do you experience your own identity? Not in relation to others–how do you see yourself? I’m much bigger than I thought. Who I am is more centered and stronger, yet I have more capacity.
  • I forgot to meditate at least two more times (mumble mumble). Sometimes I remember late, and then I sit. Three times now I have not remembered until the next day that I did not sit the previous day. I like meditating at various times during the day, getting to know my various diurnal energies. And I think I’d like to start the day with it.

Okay, I’m off to zipline in Wimberley. Will post again tomorrow

That’s better

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Just sat. How could I miss the settling on my zafu, setting the timer, body scan, awareness, breath, whole body, relaxing, noticing, the weight of my back on my sacrum?

That’s more like it.

More story came up about forgetting to meditate yesterday.

  • I’m on vacation this week, and my schedule is different.
  • I went to Keith’s yoga class at Dharma Yoga last night, and we had a long savasana and then probably 5 minutes of sitting at the end.
  • What did you expect? You set this up so that failure was inevitable!
  • Besides, it’s not really about sitting for 30 minutes every day for a year. It’s about how attempting to do that will change me.

I’ve got a busy day ahead. Have a good one, y’all!

I missed a day!

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Tuesday morning, checking email, and I just realized that I completely forgot to meditate yesterday.

So here’s the big drama you’ve been waiting for on this blog, readers! I made a vow to sit for 30 minutes every day in 2010, and I have missed a day.

What will happen? Well, I’ll forgive myself, come up with a story (“it was all that sitting I did on Sunday that made me not even miss it” and “I made it through about one-third of 2010 sitting every day, the longest I’ve ever done that”), and move on.

Like literally. Right now I am going to sit.