attachment

by

The Blame Game

I’ve recently watched Dan Snow’s latest expedition, to travel down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon in three boats from the late 19th century, just as Powell did. It was a really interesting show (not just because of the equally gorgeous and intelligent Mr Snow) that not only demonstrated the awesome power of the elements, but also those of human nature.

Each boat has three people in it – an experienced helmsman, an experienced boatman and a novice. The three novices were Dan, Mike (you may know him from Springwwatch) and another chap whose name eludes me – historian, ecologist and geologist respectively. They all had to work together as a team to see it through to the end – 18 days of incredible physical and mental challenge amidst one of the world’s most beautiful and dangerous environments.

Each person had to pull their own weight, despite their experience, and each person did so without fail.  They all tried their hardest and it was inspiring to see. What was not so inspiring was another aspect of human nature that arose from one of the boats – namely, the blame game.

In one of the three boats, Mike was having a harder time than the other novices. Whether that was simply his lack of skill and learning, or insufficient support and teaching from his colleagues, is up for debate – we could not see everything that happened in this edited television show. What I did see however, was an aspect of human nature that really opened up my eyes not only to how other people treat each other, but how I’ve treated others in the past as well.

It started with the “expert whitewater kayaker” beginning to complain to the camera about Mike and his lack of ability. It would seem that instead of taking extra time to help the novice and support him, he would rather complain to the camera away from the group.  He blamed Mike for the difficulty their boat was having in the rapids. However, what we all saw was at the first set of rapids, the kayaker falling out of his seat pretty much at the first bump. Whether this started off something in his mind that needed to help him save face, changing the focus from his own inability, mistake or accident, and blaming someone else for it we can never know for certain. It certainly appeared that way to me.

Since then, he complained on several occasions to the camera in isolation.  Then his helmsman made a mistake, taking the boat down backwards in the hopes of having better steering in one section of rapids.  The boat that went through before managed it. I’m not an experienced boatman, but I could see in those churning waters that the oar would snap like a twig if caught on a rock, which it did. After that, the helmsman began to complain to the camera as well about Mike, who was simply doing his best to row and keep the boat going straight and bail when he needed to – there really was nothing else he could do. At one point we saw the helmsman shout at Mike to bail, and Mike’s pail got caught up in part of the boat’s rigging – not that it would have mattered, for bailing in the middle of those rapids was, to me, pointless – the boat was already full at and the mercy of the river. Mike began bailing as fast as he could, but another wave just crashed right in. He would have been better off rowing, but he still got yelled at.

This all made me very uncomfortable.  I hate seeing people getting picked on when they are trying their best. But I was also inspired by Dan’s boat, which seemed to have some sort of Zen Master at the helm.  This chap was brilliant – he was so calm, so peaceful, never shouting orders and seeming at one with the river – when he took his boat down the rapids, he steered it down the path of least resistance, without effort. A beautiful thing to witness. Soft spoken and mild-mannered, and an accomplished musician, his calming influence was a gentle reminder to me to keep my Zen on and have compassion, even for those who were irritating the hell out of me on the show.

That’s not to say that the Zen Master Helmsman’s boat didn’t make any mistakes.  His boat came the closest to capsizing in one of the most difficult rapids.  They didn’t make the line they were going for down between the rocks, and got swept away down a fast sluice heading straight towards the canyon’s rock walls. His oar got ripped from his hands in the roiling water, and they were at the mercy of the river.  The other helmsman would have shouted his head off at this point, but Zen Master Helmsman kept his cool – it was a beautiful thing to behold.  He had lost his oar, all manner of steering, and the boat swept into the curve of the canyon (you can see it on the video).  The boat kept to the curve, the water sweeping it close but not up against the canyon wall. Then the boat began to tip over on its right side. Dan lost his seat and fell into the right side wall, nearly out of the boat. ZMH calmly reached for the left side of the boat, push against it with his body weight, counterbalancing the tipping boat, and it righted itself. You can’t hear it on the video, but he was also calmly talking and encouraging his fellow crewman throughout, saying “Stay calm, just stay in the boat, take it easy”. They made it through, without yelling, without panic, without blame.

Everyone makes mistakes. With three people in a boat, you cannot blame one person for the boat going wrong. Everyone is in it, working together to try and go in the same direction.  There are so many variables that to blame one person it pointless. Staying calm, looking out for your crew members and acting with compassion is the way forward. By observing this, the three simply followed the river’s flow. There was nothing else they could do, so why increase suffering?

Compassion is all about reducing your suffering. The two complainers in the other boat did not seem to grasp this.  Instead of helping they made things worse. I hate to think what would have happened had it been their boat that nearly capsized. However, their boat did not escape unscathed of a terrifying experience.

On the next section of these last, and most dangerous rapids, Mike’s boat lost their helmsman as he was washed away in a giant wall of water that hit the boat.  No one’s fault – you cannot blame crew or wave or river any more than you can blame the sun for shining.   The helmsman managed to hang onto his oar under the water, and pull himself back to the boat, floating down the rest of the rapids with it, finally being pulled back into the boat at the first opportunity.  This was the changing point for that crew.

The fragility of human existence hits hard when confronted with the very sudden realisation that you or someone you know could have died in a certain experience or circumstance.  This realisation did indeed hit Mike hard, as we saw when the camera was on him when they were on the beach after these rapids – he was brought to tears by the whole experience.  It also brought the crew together – the kayaker who originally tried to blame Mike for everything saw Mike’s suffering, and came up to give him a hug.  Petty blame games mean nothing when you realise just how precious and precarious life really is. Alleviating suffering is much more conducive to peace than creating more suffering in this lifetime.

What I realised from this show is that blaming people does not solve anything. It does not even make you feel better – it increases your own suffering, because everything that person does upsets or annoys you from then on. Also, when you blame someone, you instantly block out any form of objectiveness in the situation.  You have established a truth for yourself that blinds you to seeing the bigger picture. Believing in this truth is dangerous. Believing that one person is wrong and that you are right is what has caused innumerable amounts of suffering in the world. Opening your heart and mind in compassion, in trying to see the bigger picture and in trying to make the world a better place would be far more beneficial to all.

I looked back at the times in my life when I had played the blame game, making others the culprit for everything that had gone wrong. Like those boats in the river, there were so many variables that one person could not be responsible for everything.  The only thing we can be responsible for is ourselves in this life.  If we try to help others instead of break them down, if we see our own failings before we blame others, we might change our behaviour into something that is more compassionate.

Driving to the RSPCA today to visit a cat that I am adopting, I was cut off by a car speeding in a residential area.  My reaction to it was simply to keep driving, and hope that the person in the speeding car finds peace within him or herself that could be reflected in their driving.  Getting mad at the other driver would not solve anything except to make me suffer. (On the way home, I did see that they are now installing speed cameras along that stretch of road, for which I am glad).

We all make mistakes.  We can blame others for what we perceive to have gone wrong with our lives.  Or we can simply get on with making this world a better place, communicating with compassion towards everyone, even our enemies. We may then realise that we do not have enemies in the first place.  We can even wallow in guilt, blaming ourselves for everything that has gone wrong instead of working out best to improve the situation – I know which I would rather engage with.  We stand strong, we act responsibly – like ZMH we have the ability to respond to a crisis situation with calmness and grace, even when faced by enormous odds and potential life-threatening situations. We are all simply boats on a river, either working together or alone to stay afloat, at the mercy of the elements and each other.

I am taking a leaf out of Zen Master Helmsman’s book.  He was a total dude.

(To see more videos and read more about the expedition, see the BBC Blogs here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/tv/posts/Operation-Grand-Canyon-with-Dan-Snow)

Love Thyself
by

Love Thyself

Today I have the day to myself – no one else, just me in the house with my cat. For me, it is pure bliss. After the sometimes chaotic nature of the holiday season spent in constant company, whether that is with beloved family or friends, a little downtime is a blessing.  I love these moments, when I am free to do as I choose, when the house is quiet and no one needs anything.  I can write or listen to music, meditate without extraneous noise, or simply just sit in the conservatory with a cup of tea and enjoy the silence and the season. After busy times, I crave solitude.

In today’s society, however, I am seeing more and more evidence that people do not want to spend time with themselves.  There are constant distractions everywhere, the worst culprit being mobile phones.  Not only are they being used to call or text people constantly, but now people can tweet, check their facebook or email and never spend a moment without their “friends”.  I remember about six months ago going to my local pub and sitting at the bar, chatting to the bar staff. Other locals were around me sharing conversation, but once the bartender had disappeared they all lowered their heads and were on their phones, thumbs hammering away.  I have gone out to dinner on numerous occasions where I see other couples sitting across from each other not talking to each other but on their phones. It makes me so sad that people do not want to be together physically when they are given the precious opportunity. What I find perhaps even more distressing is the fact that people don’t know how to be alone either.

In a supermarket queue, no one can just stand there anymore and wait in line, either simply being and standing, or making eye contact with others, offering a smile, perhaps some comment on the weather.  I respect it when people don’t want to talk to strangers – I can feel annoyed when people want my attention and I don’t want to give it to them at that particular moment. It can feel intrusive.  Men who expect you to flirt back, for instance. But I digress – surrounded by real people in the supermarket queue, people would rather look to a tiny screen that acknowledge those around them, or perhaps even succumb to their own thoughts for the barest instant.

I know that I am assuming much here – I can’t know what really goes on in other people’s heads.  But I think it is a fair assumption to make.  Being alone is scary for a lot of people, especially if they’re not used to it. What worries me is that a whole generation of human beings is living without the blessing of time spent by and with themselves. They will never experience that exquisite silence when the gadgets are turned off. They will never know their own thoughts, being constantly distracted by the thoughts of others. They might never truly know themselves.

Time spent alone is precious time to look within, to check on our self and see if everything is okay.  Not enough time is spent doing this, in my opinion.  Giving this gift of attention to our selves, we can see where we are simply reacting to events, instead of acting with intention.  It gives us a chance to be compassionate with our selves, and thereby allowing us to be more compassionate with others.  We check in on others all the time with social media – what I suggest is that we check in with ourselves as well.

Mindfulness and meditation are two great ways to check in with the self, to see how you are doing at this particular moment in time.  Breathing in, being aware of the breath, you can do this anywhere – even in the supermarket queue.  Simply saying “breathing in, I am aware that I am breathing in, breathing out, I am aware that I am breathing out” in your mind as you breathe gives you a moment in time that is all your own.  I like to do this regularly, and also to see where I am holding tension in my body.  Often I will find that my right shoulder is raised, and I can make a conscious effort to relax my muscles, giving them a rest as well as my mind.  I am unconsciously tensing, perhaps protectively with my dominant arm against some unperceived threat. When I am aware of this, I see that there is no threat, and can relax and enjoy the moment better.

In meditation, simply stopping is a brilliant way to get back in touch with your self.  Sitting on a cushion, perhaps some incense burning as an offering, simply spend time with your self and your thoughts.  See the thoughts in your mind as they arise, but do not attach to them – let them go. See and discover how crazily the mind works, how hurried and fast thoughts arise. Just as quickly as they come, let them go, and slowly, with time and with effort, with a little discipline, the thoughts will begin to settle like mud in a pond, eventually allowing clear insight into the depths. It doesn’t happen all at once, and takes dedication, but it is so worth it.

Spend some time with yourself today, even if it only for two minutes. Breathe, stand outside after work and smell the night air.  Take a candlelit bath and really feel the water surround you, relaxing your body and noticing where there may be tension.  Sit at your meal and savour each and every bite, really paying attention to what it is that you are putting in your mouth.  Lying down to sleep, do a full body sweep with your mind to feel areas of tension, relaxing the muscles one by one.

And for the love of your self, turn your phone off. x

by

Looking inwards

“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” -Henry David Thoreau

As I have begun my journey into the descent of both the self and the dark half of the year, thoughts and feelings have arisen which require acknowledgement. It has often been said that those thoughts that we are unaware of, control us. Quite.

Just as we are not our jobs, our familial roles or any other singular label, so too are we not our past, nor our future. We can only be our present.  All too often I have beat myself up about what I have done in the past. After a couple of months of looking inwards and discovering these thought patterns, I have realised that I have to let go of what I thought of myself in the past.

In the past I have been selfish. In the past I have done things I am not proud of. However, that does not mean that I am selfish now, or that I will do these things again, now or in the future.  What happened does not define me in the present moment so much as inform me of how I got here. I am only the person I am now, typing up this blog post trying to make sense of the self and how it works.

It is a season for letting go and so, every time I have a thought on how I have failed, I remind myself that this was something that happened in the past and, in truth, is not who I am now. It is extremely liberating, and enables me to be the best person I can be right now, as opposed to living in destructive and judgemental behaviour about what I have done.  I can certainly be critical of things, looking at them with detachment and learning from it, however no condemnation can be made because it no longer exists.  Often in Zen we hear of teachers asking students who bring up past faults and issues “Yes, but where is this now?”  Baffled, the student cannot answer, for it does not exist in the present moment. They are memories and lessons learned. They existed in the past. They inform us of the future.

Sometimes the best thing to do is to lose that sense of self in order to be able to look inwards critically.  Putting aside the ego and simply seeing thoughts for what they are is extremely difficult. The ego jostles for attention at any possible chance, with thoughts of “I am this” or comparisons to other people, opinions on the world at large and a deep-seated fear of annihilation. When we put all these aside we are simply left with our own personal truth.

by

Sacrifice

(This is from an article that I wrote for The Druid Network a few years ago…)

Many people in the pagan community have differing ideas on the concept of
sacrifice. Here I can only offer my own view, to share with others. These words,
much as the notion of sacrifice, are a purely personal experience.

Let me first describe what to me is the difference between an offering and a
sacrifice. Offerings can be daily elements of the ritual of our lives; offerings
of incense, of songs to the dawn, food from each meal. Offerings are often given
in thanks; for the day, for the restoration of health to a loved one, for a
wandering pet’s return. For some, offerings are a return of what we have in
abundance, for example, a farmer returning a sheaf of wheat to the land, or some
of the autumn’s blackberry port that was made poured back beneath the bushes
from whence the fruit was obtained. Offerings are used to establish a
relationship, to give back for what we have received in turn from an honourable
existence. They nurture a relationship. So, in that context, what is sacrifice?

For me, sacrifice is something that you just don’t want to give up. It hurts.
Yet, to be able to move onto the next level, to deepen a relationship further,
instead of just nurturing it with an offering, a sacrifice must be made.
Sacrifice is giving up something that is sacred to you. It can’t be easy. It
can’t be something that has outlived its purpose. It can’t be something that you
don’t really care about, or that you have in abundance. It can’t be something
that can be replaced. It has to show dedication, devotion, commitment. It has
got to hurt.

When I speak of hurting, I don’t mean physical pain, although that too in a
way can be seen as a sacrifice. If something will forever be changed because of
it, then perhaps it can be deemed as sacrifice (a tattoo, for instance). To push
through barriers of pain can be a sacrifice of what we strive for as human
beings – comfort being one of the greatest drives. Yet there can be an emotional
pain in sacrifice as well. That the physical pain in sacrifice is our own cannot
be questioned – we should never harm another being in the name of sacrifice, or
for whatever reason. If we are to sacrifice our own personal comfort, then it
must be sufficient to move onto a new level of relationship. We may not always
be willing to sacrifice, however, we can be ready to.

Some argue that time can be sacrificed, yet I would argue that if one has
come to a relationship with the god of Time, then one will find that they have
all the time in the world to attain what they wish. Time, for me, can only be an
offering, even though it can be seen as irreplaceable. Time is not a sacrifice
when it means spending more time at the local soup kitchen and less time in
front of the television – it is merely a reprioritising of time, and what is
important.

Can money be a sacrifice? Again, this for me is more of an offering than a
sacrifice for most people. Money can be replaced, for instance. Yet, if one
gives all their money to another, is that not a sacrifice? Perhaps yes, perhaps
no. For me, money can always be made, yet I live in the luxury of not worrying
too much about where my next meal comes from. So, for me, money is an offering,
much as food and time.

So what constitutes sacrifice? In my own experience, an item (so far it has
always been an item) must be thought over for hours, even days, as to whether or
not I wish to sacrifice it. If I can find other things that I would willingly
sacrifice before it, then they are not worthy. Some might think of this train of
thought as merely masochistic. Again, it comes down to what is truly sacred to
one’s self, and what one needs to do in order to progress to the next level.

Recently, I spent all night in my tepee, knowing that I had to sacrifice
something in the morning before the ritual. I knew that I wanted to go deeper
into my druidry, and that the spirits of place and my gods required it of me. I
hummed and hawed over it, wondering if I had anything else in my pack that I
could sacrifice instead of my beloved and sacred bead bracelet. I didn’t. It was
either my eagle pendant or my bracelet. I couldn’t sacrifice my wooden beaded
necklaces, they were just too easy – I didn’t have a large enough emotional
attachment to them. The spirits of place would not accept that offering, as I
felt. It was not sufficient in order to attain the deeper relationship
that I craved. My eagle pendant, after long thought, was replaceable, though I
would miss it dearly in the months that it would take to find another one. My
bracelet, however, one of a kind with many dear memories attached, was not at
all replaceable. That would be my sacrifice.

I have also sacrificed a medicine bag, and a wedding ring. None of these
items I wanted to let go, but just knew I had to if I was to progress
along my spiritual journey. I miss them dearly, but the value in giving them up
makes up for their loss, in a sense. I have a deeper understanding about myself,
about what is important to me, and by sacrificing these things to the spirits I
feel that they know me better, know my intentions more clearly, and that we have
a stronger, deeper, newer and more committed relationship for it. To me, that is
the true nature of sacrifice.

by

Where there is no cold and heat…

A monk asked Tozan, “How can we escape the cold and heat?”

Tozan replied, “Why not go where there is no cold and heat?”

“Is there such a place?” the monk asked.

Tozan commented, “When cold, be thoroughly cold; when hot, be hot through and through.

 

On a day like this, when it is around 44 degrees C with the humidex, and you sweat just sitting still, this Zen saying comes to mind.  So many people try to escape the heat, much as they try to escape other less than pleasant aspects of their lives.  Some people even try to escape the “good” things that happen too.  We have developed all sorts of energy wasting devices in order to maintain our “comfort” levels. Now, I realise that I have central heating and drive a car to work in the countryside, and so contribute to the energy consumption that these devices use.  But I will never, ever get air-conditioning, for example.

Growing up in Canada, I loved the summers as much as I loved the winters. It is -30 in the winter, +30 in the summer – quite a temperature extreme.  In the UK, where I now live, there isn’t as much of a temperature flux between the seasons, but we do occasionally get a hot spell in the summer, and a cold spell in the winter, which does get everyone talking about (or complaining about).  However, I digress – I always found it odd that people wanted to escape the season.

In the wintertime, we long for those hot summer days, and vice versa. We always want, or always think we want, something else.  That something else will make things better.  In the sticky, sweaty heat of summer, it will always be better if we have air-conditioning.  What I propose is that it isn’t – it’s just cooler.

I know a lot of people would say that being cooler IS better, but it isn’t – it’s just cooler.  Problems that we have are still with us, and the air-con has its own problems as well, with health and well-being that affects some more than others.  I know also that for some it is a godsend.

However, what if we spent all the energy we put into fighting the heat into simple acceptance of the heat? On a sweltering, sticky day, instead of running to the air-conditioned stores, what if we just accepted the sticky, sweatiness of it all?  I often find that when I do, I’m a lot cooler, even though that isn’t my goal.  When I’m hot, I just be hot. Then it isn’t a problem for me anymore, because I’m not trying to be anything else. I have a little more trouble being cold – if I’m cold, I do put on an extra sweater, for example.  The zen saying doesn’t advocate hypothermia, or heatstroke – it’s more of an analogy to life, perhaps not to be taken so literally, but still darned good advice.

Instead of trying to escape our lives, if we totally immersed ourselves in them, and accepted them for what they are, then perhaps things would be a little different for us. And in a good way.  What do you think?

by

Grab that strawberry!

The wild strawberries are now out in my garden, and I am reminded of this Zen story.

A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger after him. Coming to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself down over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him. Two mice, one white and one black, little by little started to gnaw away the vine. The man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted!

What if I told you that we choose to let our emotions, our grief, the struggles of living day to day affect us?  Who on earth would willingly choose to allow these to happen? Those who are afraid to face them, to engage with them. They are often the people who believe that mediation is all about pushing your feelings away for a space in time in which to breathe. While this can be a short-term coping mechanism, in the long term it achieves nothing. We must choose to face the abyss, and have the abyss stare back at us (Nietzche).

So many people believe Zen or Buddhist meditation is all about emptying the mind, to achieve nothingness. To wilfully push out everything and focus on nothing. However, in doing so, as soon as when we stop focusing on nothing, everything else comes rushing back in.

If, instead, we focus on issues that we are facing when we meditate we can resolve them – perhaps not all in one sitting, but over time, getting to know our fears in order to work with them.  We’ll never know how to break free of our demons until we can name them.

Simply sitting, zazen, is a brilliant tool for focusing the mind on the here and now. Laying aside the past and future for a session, we immerse ourselves in the present moment, fully aware of everything going around us.  Sometimes when we do this, feelings come up, of sadness or despair, joy or tranquillity.  We can ignore these feelings, and see them come back and back again, or we can engage with them.

Engaging with them does not mean to fall utterly within their tantalising spell, however. Through our previous sessions of simply being in the moment, focused, we have developed two great tools – the power of concentration and the power of detachment.  Think of them as your power tools 😉

Using concentration, we can fully focus on the emotion, the memory – whatever it is that pops into our head, giving it our full attention. With detachment, we see it for what it is – something that exists in our minds only, that has no substance.  Using both tools, we can delve even further if we so wish, looking to where the thoughts may stem from.  Then, equally with both tools, we can see that it is a choice as to whether we allow the thought or memory to control our lives, or whether we choose otherwise.

It’s our choice as to whether we hold on to things, or whether we engage with them.  You can’t fight what you don’t know. Face the fear, the emotion, and come out the other side, naming it, staring straight back at it, knowing that it no longer has a hold over you. Some demons never go away, but are silenced for a time, and letting go is never a one-time process. We have to let go each and every day, face our fears, our emotions, stoically in order to understand ourselves and others.  Enjoy the present moment.

It’s your choice.

 

by

Awen and Peace – East meets West

Further exploring the nature of peace, what leads me to understand the fundamental precept behind achieving peace is through compassion.  But what is compassion?

Dictionary definitions say that it is a state of sympathy with someone who is suffering, and yet that doesn’t adequately describe compassion in my mind, in either the Zen or the Druid tradition.  Two words in Sanskrit delve a little closer, such as karuna, a gentle affection and a willingness to bear others’ pain, or metta, often described now as loving kindness, acting for the benefit of all living things with a selfless attitude.

The Dalai Lama stated “Genuine compassion must have both wisdom and lovingkindness. That is to say, one must understand the nature of the suffering from which we wish to free others (this is wisdom), and one must experience deep intimacy and empathy with other sentient beings (this is lovingkindness)” –  (The Essence of the Heart Sutra).

For me, compassion is all about relationship, about an integration with the world, with the universe. As the native American saying goes – “We are all related”.  (Not just humanity, but essentially go far enough back and see that we are all star stuff.)  In order for this integration to occur, we have to learn how to lose that sense of self, for is there is a separate self, there can be no true integration, only the state of sympathy.  There is someone observing someone else’s suffering, and helping to alleviate their suffering but still retaining a sense of Us and Them. In Buddhism, wisdom, or prajna, is most often found through the teachings of No Self, or attana.

In my studies in Zen Buddhism, we are taught to help wherever we can, as selflessly as is possible, which is true compassion. If you help someone and then expect a reward, there is still a separate self expecting reward from a separate person.  We have to learn to drop all expectations. The Tibetan practice of Lojong’s final slogan is brilliant in this regard – Do Not Expect Applause.  Only then, there is there an integration of everyone involved.

In Druidry, this integration is often termed as relationship – but again, words fail to describe the enormity of the meaning behind it all. Druidry also uses the word, awen, a Welsh word with several interpretations: poetic inspiration and flowing spirit to name a few.  For me, awen is the life “force” itself, in its myriad expressions, in constant change and flux.

To find true peace, one must release into this, into awen, losing that sense of separateness, and in doing so discovering the nature of compassion in soul to soul relationship.

 

by

Face the Abyss…

As per my latest blog post, I’ve been inspired to go media free one day a week, when I am home and have access to the internet, television and radio – it’s easy to go media free when on holiday, for instance, but not when we’re home alone, and have to be alone with ourselves. No phone calls, no internet, no television, no radio. One day a week, to get back in touch with myself. To remember a time before all this media and social media became so important. A time to remember what really matters.  A time to read, to meditate, to go for walks, to sing, to dance, to play an instrument, to create.

Look into the abyss, and the abyss looks back at you…

by

Enough Already!

How often you do say “enough already”?  Mostly, when you’re sick of something, and really don’t want anything more, or anything more to do with it.  These past few months I’ve been applying the “enough already” to my life, though with different connotations.

What are our needs, as human beings? Food, shelter, clothing and something of a sense of security go a long way to making our lives happy.  Social interaction, music and literature also go a long way to making our lives better.  Yet in our culture, we just can’t seem to get “enough”.  Our economy, if it isn’t growing, is in recession – if our GDP isn’t constantly on the up, then we’re seen as failing.  We need more news, faster, and through all kinds of media.  We need bigger houses for all our possessions, multiple cars and swimming pools.  This is the measure of success in our culture, not happiness.

I would pose that we need to relearn just what enough is.  We’ve got things galore, but do they make us happy?  Looking up the word galore, I came across with an interesting little find – galore also means enough.  Irish go leor  enough, plenty ( Scots Gaelic gu leòr, leòir ).  To have enough is plenty.

Some 20th century modcons make our lives much easier – the telephone, for example.  We can talk to people and distance is no longer a factor, though money still is – you must be able to afford that phone call (though I would say that even this is a stretch, for I know people with mobile phones who manage to pay their mobile phone bills but not their rent).  However, do we really need phones that do everything, with all the latest apps?  I have a mobile phone that I have for emergencies, ie. if my car breaks down on a lonely country road, I can call for help. This phone is 10 years old.  If people want to reach me, they have my landline. If I’m not home, they can leave a message.  It’s not life or death if I can’t be reached 24/7. It rarely is for most people.  (I often wonder if this 24/7 reachability gives people a sense of self-importance – and if so, that’s something that saddens me terribly).

I don’t need to wait in line outside a store for hours for the latest IPhone release.  Why on earth would I want to do that?  I have a life to live, in all honesty, that does not revolve around bowing down to the gods of consumerism.  My phone is enough for my needs, which are pretty basic when it comes to phones.

A computer is also a necessity in my line of work.  For writing, for my other jobs, I just couldn’t do without one.  Social media is also a necessity for me, to share ideas and get feedback, to promote events and subjects that I feel are important, to keep in touch with my family who are thousands of miles away.  But I don’t have a Twitter account, or pininterest, or the host of other things that create an online presence – I have what I need in my line of work – a blog, a website, a Youtube account (for my dance company, visual is the most important form of media) and a Facebook account.  This already seems like a lot to me, and I don’t want to expand this any further – so much time is already spent on all of these, and there are, after all, other things I need to be doing for my work, like writing and choreographing to say the least!

When is enough plenty?  When we can find something to wear that doesn’t take more than a few seconds to think about.  When we eat until we are 80% full, knowing that we will feel full in a few minutes.  When our grooming habits take less than 20 minutes for a usual day.  When we don’t feel the need for the latest “thing”.

A good exercise – take a look around your house, maybe just one room, and note all the things you absolutely need.  Write them down. Now make another list of everything that isn’t essential, and then compare the two.  A few items, such as a gift from someone that you love and want to display on your mantelpiece, for instance, shouldn’t really count against you.  But all the things that you don’t love, that don’t have meaning, that you could just as easily do without – these are the things we need to think about.

Before each purchase, I always ask myself – do I need this? If the answer is no, then I won’t buy it.  It’s that simple.  I made a vow last year (the second time I’ve done this) to not buy any new clothes for a year.  I still have license to buy whatever I would like from charity shops, but even then I always ask myself – do I need this? If the answer is still no, even if it is only £2, then I won’t buy it. I have enough. I have plenty.

 

 

by

Leo Babuata’s 12 Essential Rules to Live More Like a Zen Monk

12 Essential Rules to Live More Like a Zen Monk  (taken from http://zenhabits.net/12-essential-rules-to-live-more-like-a-zen-monk/)

“We have more possibilities available in each moment than we realize.” – Thich Nhat Hanh

Post written by Leo Babauta.

I’m not a Zen monk, nor will I ever become one. However, I find great inspiration in the way they try to live their lives: the simplicity of their lives, the concentration and mindfulness of every activity, the calm and peace they find in their days.

You probably don’t want to become a Zen monk either, but you can live your life in a more Zen-like manner by following a few simple rules.

Why live more like a Zen monk? Because who among us can’t use a little more concentration, tranquility, and mindfulness in our lives? Because Zen monks for hundreds of years have devoted their lives to being present in everything they do, to being dedicated and to serving others. Because it serves as an example for our lives, and whether we ever really reach that ideal is not the point.

One of my favorite Zen monks, Thich Nhat Hanh, simplified the rules in just a few words: “Smile, breathe and go slowly.” It doesn’t get any better than that.

However, for those who would like a little more detail, I thought I’d share some of the things I’ve discovered to work very well in my experiments with Zen-like living. I am no Zen master … I am not even a Zen Buddhist. However, I’ve found that there are certain principles that can be applied to any life, no matter what your religious beliefs or what your standard of living.

“Zen is not some kind of excitement, but concentration on our usual everyday routine.” – Shunryu Suzuki

    1. Do one thing at a time. This rule (and some of the others that follow) will be familiar to long-time Zen Habits readers. It’s part of my philosophy, and it’s also a part of the life of a Zen monk: single-task, don’t multi-task. When you’re pouring water, just pour water. When you’re eating, just eat. When you’re bathing, just bathe. Don’t try to knock off a few tasks while eating or bathing. Zen proverb: “When walking, walk. When eating, eat.”
    2. Do it slowly and deliberately. You can do one task at a time, but also rush that task. Instead, take your time, and move slowly. Make your actions deliberate, not rushed and random. It takes practice, but it helps you focus on the task.
    3. Do it completely. Put your mind completely on the task. Don’t move on to the next task until you’re finished. If, for some reason, you have no choice but to move on to something else, try to at least put away the unfinished task and clean up after yourself. If you prepare a sandwich, don’t start eating it until you’ve put away the stuff you used to prepare it, wiped down the counter, and washed the dishes used for preparation. Then you’re done with that task, and can focus more completely on the next task.
    4. Do less. A Zen monk doesn’t lead a lazy life: he wakes early and has a day filled with work. However, he doesn’t have an unending task list either — there are certain things he’s going to do today, and no more. If you do less, you can do those things more slowly, more completely and with more concentration. If you fill your day with tasks, you will be rushing from one thing to the next without stopping to think about what you do.
    5. Put space between things. Related to the “Do less” rule, but it’s a way of managing your schedule so that you always have time to complete each task. Don’t schedule things close together — instead, leave room between things on your schedule. That gives you a more relaxed schedule, and leaves space in case one task takes longer than you planned.
    6. Develop rituals. Zen monks have rituals for many things they do, from eating to cleaning to meditation. Ritual gives something a sense of importance — if it’s important enough to have a ritual, it’s important enough to be given your entire attention, and to be done slowly and correctly. You don’t have to learn the Zen monk rituals — you can create your own, for the preparation of food, for eating, for cleaning, for what you do before you start your work, for what you do when you wake up and before you go to bed, for what you do just before exercise. Anything you want, really.
    7. Designate time for certain things. There are certain times in the day of a Zen monk designated for certain activities. A time for for bathing, a time for work, a time for cleaning, a time for eating. This ensures that those things get done regularly. You can designate time for your own activities, whether that be work or cleaning or exercise or quiet contemplation. If it’s important enough to do regularly, consider designating a time for it.

  1. Devote time to sitting. In the life of a Zen monk, sitting meditation (zazen) is one of the most important parts of his day. Each day, there is time designated just for sitting. This meditation is really practice for learning to be present. You can devote time for sitting meditation, or do what I do: I use running as a way to practice being in the moment. You could use any activity in the same way, as long as you do it regularly and practice being present.
  2. Smile and serve others. Zen monks spend part of their day in service to others, whether that be other monks in the monastery or people on the outside world. It teaches them humility, and ensures that their lives are not just selfish, but devoted to others. If you’re a parent, it’s likely you already spend at least some time in service to others in your household, and non-parents may already do this too. Similarly, smiling and being kind to others can be a great way to improve the lives of those around you. Also consider volunteering for charity work.
  3. Make cleaning and cooking become meditation. Aside from the zazen mentioned above, cooking and cleaning are two of the most exalted parts of a Zen monk’s day. They are both great ways to practice mindfulness, and can be great rituals performed each day. If cooking and cleaning seem like boring chores to you, try doing them as a form of meditation. Put your entire mind into those tasks, concentrate, and do them slowly and completely. It could change your entire day (as well as leave you with a cleaner house).
  4. Think about what is necessary. There is little in a Zen monk’s life that isn’t necessary. He doesn’t have a closet full of shoes, or the latest in trendy clothes. He doesn’t have a refrigerator and cabinets full of junk food. He doesn’t have the latest gadgets, cars, televisions, or iPod. He has basic clothing, basic shelter, basic utensils, basic tools, and the most basic food (they eat simple, vegetarian meals consisting usually of rice, miso soup, vegetables, and pickled vegetables). Now, I’m not saying you should live exactly like a Zen monk — I certainly don’t. But it does serve as a reminder that there is much in our lives that aren’t necessary, and it can be useful to give some thought about what we really need, and whether it is important to have all the stuff we have that’s not necessary.
  5. Live simply. The corollary of Rule 11 is that if something isn’t necessary, you can probably live without it. And so to live simply is to rid your life of as many of the unnecessary and unessential things as you can, to make room for the essential. Now, what is essential will be different to each person. For me, my family, my writing, my running and my reading are essential. To others, yoga and spending time with close friends might be essential. For others it will be nursing and volunteering and going to church and collecting comic books. There is no law saying what should be essential for you — but you should consider what is most important to your life, and make room for that by eliminating the other less essential things in your life.

“Before enlightenment chop wood and carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood and carry water.” – Wu Li