compassion
Dancing with Nemetona
I have danced with Nemetona ever since I can remember.
I may not have known her name, but she has always been there. My Lady of Sanctuary, of sacred space, of boundaries and edges – all throughout my life I have danced with her, the song flowing through my soul like deep nourishing water, bringing a stillness, a settling to my heart like no other.
I grew up in the same house until I left for college. A beautiful little bungalow on the edge of a village, with miles of forest stretched out behind. It was a house that was filled with warmth, with sound, with what can only be described as a good vibration. Filled with houseplants, as my father is a landscaper and my mother the daughter of a florist, every spare flat space had something growing, being nurtured, being loved. Indeed, that is how I often look back at my childhood – it was a beautiful space indeed, and I am ever thankful for it.
The house has its own spirit – not in a paranormal sense, but just a welcoming that brought a little sigh when you walked in. There was a soft scent too – difficult to describe, but again something that made you want to come into the warmth. The life of my family had seeped into the walls and foundations of that house, and yes, while we did argue we also loved each other, and still do, deeply. Home was a safe place – growing up we never locked the door when someone was home, and often it was unlocked if a parent was out and we were playing down the street.
My lady Nemetona was there, in that house, and in that village. When old enough, we pushed our boundaries further, to the end of the street, then the two other streets further down, then the village borders and deep into the forest, climbing over The Mountain and beyond. My parents allowed us that freedom to explore, with plenty of good advice, for which I am ever thankful. Yet there was always a feeling of security, and of sanctity. We were truly blessed by this goddess.
After leaving home, which was heart-wrenching for me, to go to The City for college, I found it hard to adapt. Yet I still managed, making wherever it was that I was living as “homey” as possible. People often commented, and still do, when they enter my home was a nice feel it has. It comes naturally to me, dedicated as I am to this particular goddess. A haven not only for me, but for all who are invited in, she gives her blessings freely.
I learned through Druidry her name, and also to carry Nemetona with me at all times, not just in a certain place, such as the home. Finding the edges of my own nemeton, that space around myself which none but those who I am intimately connected to are allowed in, I could work with those edges better, to define that sacredness and sense of sanctuary around me.
Nemetona gives us that space where we are allowed to be ourselves, fully without fear. She is a temple, a sacred space, both within and without. She was celebrated in forest groves, the classical sources tell us, but she is to be found everywhere. Sinking deep into her temple, dancing freely in the twilight, letting go of notions of that self that we have created, we have time to simply BE. We return to the selfless source, if we so desire. And yet, we must come back and define our edges once more, but this time they are perhaps softened, allowing more in, allowing sanctuary and compassion to those that need it. Though we may discriminate, Nemetona doesn’t. That is why she is a goddess.
Explore where your edges meet with another, whether it be human, cat or tree. Let go into the embrace of this Lady, to find out who you truly are. In her temple, we are all perfectly who we are at this given moment. Dance with her, and know what it means to be truly free.
P.S. I am currently writing a book, entitled Dancing with Nemetona, about my journey from childhood to where I am today, and how this goddess has danced with me throughout. x
Listen
They key to understanding and compassion often lies in the art of listening. Many people hear what you say, but not many truly listen.
Often, when we are “listening” to someone speak, we are already forming our own replies in our minds before the person has even finished speaking. It is impossible to actually truly listen to what they are saying when we are doing so. I make a conscious effort to truly listen, and still occasionally slip up, catching myself and saying “Listen”. And when the person has finished talking, and I’ve truly listened, then I reply, if the answer is worthy.
The art of listening, I fear, is dying. It isn’t simply physical sound, but also when we read articles, books – other people’s words in any form – that misinterpretation can happen because we are not truly listening to them, as we are too involved in our own opinions and attachments to the subject matter. After developing the art of listening, I find that I am reading books that I read a year or two years ago, and I am getting so much more out of these books, as I am simply paying more attention to the voice contained within the pages, and not my own.
I remember watching a parliamentary debate for the first time on television, and being astounded at the complete disregard there was for not only listening, but even hearing. Party members would get maybe a sentence or two out before their opposing party made as much noise as possible, expressing their displeasure before the person had even finished speaking. I remember thinking “is this the way that adults really talk to each other? No one can understand anyone else – what is the point?” It was rude and obnoxious, and saddened me that these were the people who were running the country.
Have you ever observed two young toddlers together, who haven’t learned to speak yet? More often than not, they will make noises and “talk” to each other, and the other will listen with rapt attention before replying. I love this so much – how is it that we have forgotten this simple wonder of sharing and communication with another human being?
On the internet, it is even easier to misinterpret, to not listen, because most of the time we don’t even consider that the person we are talking to is even a real person – they are an abstraction, an online presence of the real person. It allows for rudeness and trolling as well, which would, I hope, never happen in a real life situation with people you don’t even know (and worse if it is people that are known!). So many people will read a blog such as this, and not truly read it, but coming in with their own opinions, and without the art of listening, not really understand the message that is coming across. In our dualistic society, we have cultivated a culture of Us and Them, and if you are not with Us, you must be with Them, therefore what you have to say is irrelevant – oh, and I’m going to comment on your post. Or worse, people skim read and then comment – it is as disrespectful as interrupting someone in mid-sentence, or a parliamentary debate.
We can develop the art of listening in the Spring, when all of nature is awakening to the returning warmth and sunlight, the life-giving rains and flows of energy that run through the land and our very own souls. Go outside, and truly listen. Don’t simply think “I hear birds”. Really, really listen to each bird in the multitude, not merely hearing their song but truly listening. You will find a connection with that soul, and from there meet the multitudes of other souls we share this little planet with. You will also step outside the chattering of the self and experience a world of so many souls you cannot even begin to count, giving a much bigger perspective of the world by stepping away from the self.
In Druidry, especially in the Bardic traditions, we learn the art of listening. To play music, to sing a song, to tell a story, to recite history, to satire current affairs, we need to really know the subject, to take it deep within ourselves and make it a part of our own story before we can tell it with any sort of meaning. In order to do so, we must first listen with every fibre of our being – not just with our ears, but with our hearts and souls as well. Imagine if you did this with everything – your cat, your next door neighbour, the rising moon, a politician, the spider on your wall. Everything has a story worth telling, and worth listening to.
When we listen, we make a connection that transcends the superficial relationships that are so prevalent in today’s society. We reach out, soul to soul, in love and in respect, with honour. We don’t even have to like the person, but we can still do so honourably, acknowledging their words as expression of their souls, which is turn is an expression of everything in the universe.
It gives a whole new depth, a whole new dimension to explore, and is well worth the effort.
A Most Excellent Book by Thich Naht Hanh
“Promise me, promise me this day, promise me now, while the sun is overhead exactly at the zenith, promise me: … Even as they strike you down with a mountain of hatred and violence; even as they step on you and crush you like a worm, even as they dismember and disembowel you, remember, brother, remember: man is not your enemy.
The only thing worthy of you is compassion – invincible, limitless, unconditional. Hatred will never let you face the beast in man.
One day, when you face this beast alone, with your courage intact, your eyes kind, untroubled (even as no one sees them), out of your smile will bloom a flower.
And those who love you will behold you across ten thousand worlds of birth and dying.
Alone again, I will go on with bent head, knowing that love has become eternal.
On the long, rough road, the sun and the moon will continue to shine.”
~Thich Nhat Hanh
The only thing worthy of you is compassion – invincible, limitless, unconditional. Hatred will never let you face the beast in man.
One day, when you face this beast alone, with your courage intact, your eyes kind, untroubled (even as no one sees them), out of your smile will bloom a flower.
And those who love you will behold you across ten thousand worlds of birth and dying.
Alone again, I will go on with bent head, knowing that love has become eternal.
On the long, rough road, the sun and the moon will continue to shine.”
~Thich Nhat Hanh
Here is an article and book promotion of Thich Naht Hanh’s view on understanding our enemy, and working towards love and peace. http://mettarefuge.wordpress.com/2010/08/06/thich-nhat-hanh-can-we-understand-the-suffering-of-our-enemy/
Peace out. x
Open Letter to the UK Itunes downloaders on the death of Margaret Thatcher
Please note: Thank you all for your comments on this popular blog piece – they have been insightful and inspiring – you have all taken the time to respond, respectfully and honourably, and for that I am most grateful. If anything, many comments have shown me that I have lacked compassion for those who downloaded the song in the first place – I should have compassion for everyone. I don’t have to like or agree with their actions, but I should always hold a measure of compassion. However, I am no longer able to accept any more comments on this piece, as I need to focus on other writing. Thank you, once again, all of you, from the bottom of my heart.
Well done, UK. Well done. To all those who downloaded Ding Dong The Witch is Dead, you have made this song number 1 in the Itunes chart and number 3 on the billboard Top 40. You’ve shown to the world that you have the capability to protest, albeit cowardly and completely lacking in compassion. You’ve shown that you’d rather spend your money lining the pockets of CEO’s at Apple than donating it to a worthy cause, hell, maybe even giving your 89p to the homeless woman so that she can buy a hot drink and get out of the rain for an hour. Imagine if you’d all spent that money towards a cause that actually did something useful.
You may have hated Thatcher for the lives that she ruined. You may not even take the time to think of how your actions are affecting the family that she left behind, who may or may not agree with her policies (and if you have, and still went ahead and did it, I feel so sorry for you lost in your world of petty hate). You need to know that you are not hurting her, you are hurting her family, of which there are people like you and me who are as far away from what she believed in as could be humanly possible. You’ve demonstrated your complete lack of regard for those left behind, and may have ruined, or at the very least hurt some innocent lives yourself by doing so.
Revelling in the death of your enemies does not make you a better person.
” I believe all suffering is caused by ignorance. People inflict pain on others in the selfish pursuit of their happiness or satisfaction. Yet true happiness comes from a sense of peace and contentment, which in turn must be achieved through the cultivation of altruism, of love and compassion, and elimination of ignorance, selfishness, and greed.” – Dalai Lama
You may think that you were being witty, or clever in doing so. In fact, you’ve only bought into the culture of selfishness and greed that you proclaim to so detest.
Well done, UK. Well done.
P.S. A friend just invited me to this on Facebook. A beautiful and inspired way to show the world how you feel about this. https://www.facebook.com/events/646252742057490/
Edit: This has just come to my attention – Don’t Hate, Donate. Make a difference with your money, instead of downloading silly songs. http://donthatedonate.com/
A good article in the Guardian from Russel Brand – http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2013/apr/09/russell-brand-margaret-thatcher
Edit: the title of this blog has been edited to be more specific, as some people were misunderstanding just who it was aimed at and why, and I would like it to be clear…
A Day in the Life of a Druid
The alarm clock goes off, Aerosmith is playing on Planet Rock. There is a small white cat lying between me and my husband, her little head resting on my pillow. A spotted grey cat is curled up against the small of my back, sharing in the warmth. My husband gets up, showers and comes back to kiss me goodbye. I sigh, stretch, and slowly extricate myself from the sleeping, furry softness to greet the day.
Standing by the top landing window, overlooking my back garden and the horse paddocks beyond that, down the valley towards the little nature sanctuary, my eyes coming back full circle to see the sun, rising over the North Sea (I cannot see the sea from here, but it is less than a mile away). I let its light wash over me – sunny mornings have been few and far between, and with eyes closed I drink it in. “Hail to the Day, and Day’s Sons, farewell to Night and her Daughters. With loving eyes look upon us here, and grant peace to those living here. Hail to the Gods, hail to the Goddesses, hail to the might fecund Earth. Eloquence and native wit bestow upon us here, and healing hands while we live”. Another deep breath, and so the day begins.
Headings downstairs, I get food ready for the cats, and boil the kettle for my tea. The cats slowly make their way downstairs to breakfast. After getting my lunch ready, I prepare my own breakfast, and sit down at the table with a cup of nettle tea, the young nettles picked the day before. “I give my thanks for this food I am about to eat. To the spirits of land, sea and sky, know that you are honoured”.
After breaking my fast I head back upstairs to get ready for work. Using toiletries that are from ethical companies, I grumble once again at the price of these organic, non-animal tested cosmetics, but then I catch myself. It is better than the alternative, and I am saving money in other areas of my life, in accordance with my vow not to buy any new clothing for a year – I can afford it. I get my Zen on, and get on with it.
After dressing, I say goodbye to the cats and head out the door to drive to work. I give thanks that I am blessed in that I both live and work in the countryside. (I work part-time for a music company and charity, as well as having my own dance company and being an author and priestess). On the drive to work, I like to listen to music, to hear the inspiration of others, yet to remain focused on my driving – winding slowly down country lanes, watching out for rabbits, hares and deer and the occasional oncoming tractor around the next blind bend. The fields have been ploughed and seeded, the cotton canopies protecting those crops susceptible to late frosts. The white blankets over the brown sandy soil glisten over the softly rolling hills, looking like little shining lakes in the distance. I pray for a good crop this year, as last year’s winter was too dry, and the summer too wet. They are already 3 – 4 weeks behind schedule this year, with the prolonged winter weather.
At work, it is a busy time, but I try to stay focused, remaining in the here and now a much as I can, giving every task the same attention. At one point, a colleague does not help me when I ask for it, moving heavy boxes to another location, and I feel anger rising within me. I then breathe deeply, and another colleague from another department offers to help, for which I am thankful. I move the boxes, and release the anger – I cannot expect people to behave the way that I think they should. I can only lead by example, and not let it affect it so.
The day is tiring, and when home time comes I am thankful. Physically and mentally tired, I walk back to my car, taking the time to decompress. Where I work is one of the most beautiful spots, along the river with the reed beds swaying in the wind, the large Suffolk skies opening out before me. I listen to the birds and breathe in the salt marsh air, and smile.
The drive home is in silence. I open the car window slightly to feel the breeze against my skin and to smell the emerging spring scents. I am wholly focused on driving, feeling the ground through the tires and the steering wheel, the sand that is slowly taking over the roads from being washed away from the fields over the winter.
I pull into the driveway of my home, and turn off the car engine, giving thanks once again. Walking to my front door, I notice the crocuses, tulips, daffodils and primroses all out at the same time, stretching towards the late afternoon sun. I too am going to stretch towards it. I walk into the porch and, coming through the front door, touch the doorframe, whispering a soft prayer to my goddess Nemetona, Lady of Sanctuary.
After greeting my cats and feeding them, my growling stomach demands attention, and I eat, giving thanks once again to the spirits of land, sea and sky. My husband comes home, and inside I smile at the welcome, comfort and love that I am blessed with.
After dinner I wrap up and head out into the backyard, walking around the perimeter, singing songs of welcome to the spirits of the land within my head. Some bluebells, foreign plantings by the previous owner, are starting to come through alongside the daffodils, crocuses and tulips. The irises are starting to recover and grow back after being munched by the muntjac deer early in the spring, and the lilies tipped with black edges along the leaves from frostbite. The leylandii hedge is also suffering from frostbite, and I am not sure it will recover. However, that is something to worry about when the time comes.
The apple trees have little buds on them, and the first frog spawn is in the pond. I whisper words of welcome to the new little lives, hoping that the pond will not freeze again. I know that little newts are secretly lying within the mud and leaves at the bottom of the pond, and wonder whether they will emerge this year.
The beech tree calls, and I go to sit under its majestic canopy, still bare but far-reaching. The tree is about 80 years old, and I feel a kinship to it at this point in my life – it feels like a middle-aged tree, strong and comfortable within its skin. I feel the edges of my nemeton touching the tree’s, noting where they meet and where they blend. We are still getting to know each other, the tree and I, and little moments like these are splendid.
I sit by my little altar under the beech tree, on the mossy ground. Placing my hands upon the ground, I feel the earth slowly stirring from the long winter slumber. I simply sit, meditating upon being present, feeling the warming ground, hearing the children at play on the football fields several fields over, the neighbours saying goodbye to someone. The blackbirds are singing and fighting over territory, and a little wren is looking for tasty morsels among the leaf mould. The watery sun hangs low in the sky, the warmth fading fast as night approaches.
After my meditation, I head inside for a hot bath. Sliding into the warm water I sigh with pleasure – the scents of chamomile and the soft oats feeding my skin and my senses. I honour the spirit of water and think of where my water comes from, honouring that source as well, giving thanks for the luxury of clean, hot water.
After drying off, the sun is setting, and once again I stand by my window on the top landing, looking out over the little bit of land that I am getting to know after a few years of having lived here. The light is fading, and the only birds are the blackbirds with their large eyes, singing in the dusk. The owls and their young will soon be hooting in the ash trees, the cuckoo will soon be here, the crickets singing. I long for summer, then catch myself – be present. I take a deep breath, and ground myself, centring on the here and now. “Farewell to the Day, and Day’s Sons, hail to Night and her Daughters. With loving eyes, look upon us here, and grant peace to those living here. Hail to the Gods, hail to the Goddesses, hail to the might fecund Earth. Eloquence and native wit bestow upon us here, and healing hands while we live.”
With pleasure I crawl into bed, cats coming to join me, and later my husband. I read for a bit, and then when eyes are too tired, close the book and enter the world of dreams, thankful for all that I have.
Some lovely reviews of my latest book, Zen Druidry!
“This is a fascinating book that lays out the core concepts of both Zen and Druidry, exploring the points of overlap and the ways in which these two traditions compliment each other. The writing is precise, lucid and beautifully accessible whilst managing to put across a vast amount of information in a very small space. I would say that even if you aren’t attracted to the idea of Zen, this book is still well worth your time, because of what it shows through the contrast between the two traditions. Joanna draws attention to the importance of being as present in the moment as we can be, and as open to life as possible. That’s an issue for Druids of all flavours to consider. Druidry is very much about here and now, and what we do from moment to moment, after all.
If you’ve been attracted to both traditions all along, this is, quite simply, the book you have been waiting for.” – Nimue Brown, author of Druidry and the Ancestors and also Druidry and Meditation
“Back in the distant past when I was taking early steps along the Druid path, I was also studying Eastern ways – Buddhism, Daoism, Confucianism, Brahmanism, and the like. I stayed on the Druid path and became Druid because I better understood the imagery and symbolism which allowed me to better shape my own metaphysical stance. But I have never ceased to be a student of those other ways.
It was a pleasant surprise, therefore, to pick up this little book which outlines both Zen (a school of Mahayana Buddhism that developed in China during the 6th century) and Druidry (the modern name given to a spiritual path developed from that overseen by ancestral Druids) and shows how they can work together. It is a little book, so you might not expect too much of it. You will, however, be pleasantly surprised. It manages to pack a lot into its 74 pages, largely because it is written without fuss or pretensions – indeed, very much in keeping with the subject matter. That alone speaks to me about how valuable this little book is. The author not only knows her subject inside out, she clearly practises what she preaches.
I found the application of the Buddhist Eightfold Path to the eight annual festivals of the Druid way to be of particular interest. Meditation is important to Zen and I have long felt that following the ritual year is a form of extended meditation. And here we have an extra layer to contemplate, integrate, and practice as the seasons revolve.
The greatest connection between Zen and Druidry (for me, at least) lies in mindfulness. It is, perhaps, an attribute common to all spiritual paths, but it is of especial interest to those who recognise their rootedness in this world, who recognise that the worlds of spirit and matter are as integrated as everything else. From the extempore prayers said by Celtic peoples over everyday tasks and events, words that spring from an awareness of working in the now, to the formal ritual built up around significant events in the life of the planet, the individual, the family, and the community, a Druid needs to be mindful. But it goes well beyond word into every aspect of our being – our thoughts, our dreams, and our every action. All this is simply and powerfully highlighted by this book.
So what we have is an engaging and thoughtful introduction to a pertinent fusion of ideas. A book which beautifully illustrates that when you strip away the fluff, the images, and the symbols there is very little that is different between the paths. And whilst it is something you could read at a single sitting (as I did), it is worth revisiting on a regular basis so as to be able to return to that clear and simple vision on which it is based. A book I would willingly recommend to anyone.” – Graeme K Talboys, author of The Druid Way Made Easy, The Path Through the Forest: A Druid Guidebook and Arianrhod’s Dance: A Druid Ritual Handbook
“This little book gives an outline of druidry, what it is and how it works, followed by an introductory tour of Zen teachings and then shows you how to bring both ‘traditions’ together to form Zen Druidry. Very intriguing concept, well written and interesting for anyone on a spiritual path.” Rachel Patterson, author of Kitchen Witchcraft, Grimoire of a Kitchen Witch and Hoodoo Folk Magic
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
- 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.”
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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).
- 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.
- 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
Back to Reality
Reality is a slippery little devil. Our minds are so adept at creating our own version of reality that the boundaries between what is real and what is not can become so blurred as to be indistinguishable.
Our thoughts can control us so much that they can keep us running around in circles, spinning off into the depths of our minds and in doing so, missing out on all the wonders and also the reality of the present moment. Most people don’t enjoy being in the present moment – they avoid it at all costs. However, this is because they have probably, for the most part, never ever truly experienced being in the present moment. (See my previous blog post on mindtraps for more on this subject – https://downtheforestpath.wordpress.com/?s=mindtraps.)
But I digress. Problems arise when our perceptions of reality become twisted with the imaginative and creative thought processes that our human brains are so capable of. This was made clear when my husband received a phone call last night from someone he hadn’t heard from in a long time. When he queried why the person hadn’t been in touch (he didn’t have their number) they stated that he had become upset at their last conversation, and that he had put the phone down on them.
This was not true – I don’t believe he has ever put the phone down on anyone, and especially would never do so to this person. This person had left the real conversation months ago, and was not satisfied with the outcome. And so, this person developed in their minds ways that it would appear that they had been wronged, so that they could continue to avoid reality and live in their preferred state of being the victim. They may have told and retold the story of the conversation in their minds over and over again, changing the details until, after a period of days, weeks or months, reality had changed. Stories change with the telling, we know this. But we are fooling ourselves when we keep changing reality to suit our own egos and emotions.
I remember times when I’ve done this myself in the past – sometimes it is to justify certain behaviour, or to explain events. The key is to become aware of when you are doing it, to stop and say “Right. I know what the facts are, and I’m going to stick to them, and not change them to suit my own desires”. I still get surprised when I see this in other people – I’ve had people accuse me of certain things, of promising others and of creating a totally separate reality to that which actually occurred. It can be hurtful, at times, until you understand the thought process that creates this – you then realise that you had no part in it, that it became an entity totally foreign to your own being.
This doesn’t mean that you are not responsible for your actions – we all must be the best human beings we can at this present moment. Actions have consequences. However, we must also be aware and have some compassion for those who are caught up in their own realities, to a certain extent. We don’t have to live in them, or even partake of that reality, but we can understand the reasons why.
We have to learn how to live in the here and now. Being alive and present in the here and now allows no time for emotional attachment to our thoughts and feelings – we still respond emotionally to situations, but we don’t become attached to the emotion itself. As I left work yesterday, after a long staff meeting, my colleague was upset at what was said about our department, which was, unwittingly or not, derogatory. Not only does this emphasise that we need to think very clearly before we speak, but also that we also cannot attach to the emotions that follow after a certain event. I too was very displeased with the outcome of the meeting and the insinuation, and driving home could feel anger welling inside, threatening to ruin the whole drive home and run well into the evening. However, I caught myself, and brought myself back to reality and the present moment. What was the present moment? Driving home, in the late afternoon sun, putting miles between myself and the event, figuratively and literally. It was no longer happening now, except in my head. I could either let it continue to live in my head, or simply enjoy the evening. I chose the latter.
This doesn’t mean that the issue will not be dealt with. It will, in a calm, rational and compassionate way. But it won’t dictate reality for me – reality is what it is, and nothing more. When the time is appropriate, the issue will be raised without undo emotional attachment to the residual event that still exists in our minds, which may have altered slightly or even greatly since the actual event occurred – reality is a slippery devil indeed. I will not go over the event again and again in my mind, perhaps changing reality in doing so. I will deal with the facts.
Let us continue to tell stories, but not make up the story of our own life. Our own lives are brilliant and fascinating enough – we don’t need to add more drama to them. By doing so, we will miss our own lives, living instead in our minds and foregoing some of the wondrous nature that is constantly unfolding right before our very eyes. We can hurt other people by making up stories to suit our egos and our needs, and the person whom we hurt most is ourselves.
Reality is not such a bad place. Really.
Walk lightly in Spring, for the Earth is pregnant
The light is growing – each and every day, the sun sets a little further along the horizon. Though it’s still cold, it’s nice to drive home in the light – and light enough to still be able to go for a walk when I get home. Though walking in the dark is nice, it’s a little difficult where I live unless you carry a torch – there are no lights, no light pollution. It is complete darkness. Torches kind of spoil it, but they do prevent you from falling in ditches…
I’ve always loved going for walks. A chance to be alone with nature, to listen and smell and feel the earth beneath my feet. To walk under the shared space of trees, roots curling around stones hidden beneath the ground. Feeling the breeze on my face, in my hair. It’s a form of prayer.
I usually go for a walk a couple of times a week, on my “days off”, ie. days when I’m writing or preparing my dance classes, workshops or performances. I’ve decided that I’m going to try and take a walk almost every day after work – Mondays and Thursdays are a little tricky sometimes, with work and then classes the same day – but I’m still going to give it a go. Daily sitting meditation has worked well, and now will try daily moving meditation.
Like my sitting meditation, it is a time to be fully in the moment, to be present in this space and time that I am occupying. Unlike my sitting meditation, this seems to involve more things, more stimuli, more interaction. Instead of just sitting on my cushion in front of my altar, listening to the sounds of the house, focusing on my breath, hearing the birds outside, feeling my spine relax, the outdoor walking meditation involves even more interaction, with so many more beings.
Connection is integral to Druidry. A walking meditation, or an outdoor meditation, for me is the best way to establish this connection, which to me is also a form of prayer. Prayer is communion, and communion with nature is what it’s all about. I can walk with compassion through the landscape, honouring the land upon which I live, honouring the people that share that landscape – neighbours walking the bridleway, the dog that always barks as I walk past his domain, the hazel hollow that is dark even on the brightest of days. Doing this daily is a great opportunity to see the community and landscape as it changes throughout the seasons, and even day by day.
It’s also a great way to de-stress, and centre yourself before you come home. Doing something physical, even something gentle like walking, will do your body a world of good. Even only 15 – 20 minutes a day is beneficial. Yesterday when I entered my home, touching the doorway and saying a prayer as I crossed the threshold, I entered in a completely different frame of mind than if I had just gone from my car to porch. Tired from work, working through anger in issues of human nature, that walk helped me to resolve everything and made me feel more refreshed and relaxed at the same time. Simply breathing in fresh air after a day in a stuffy office, the scent of warming earth and woodsmoke on the wind, blew away the cobwebs and gave me inspiration on multiple levels – I now had the way to deal with difficult human problems, as well as more mundane issues.
I am reminded of the Native American proverb – “Walk lightly upon the Earth in the Spring, for she is pregnant…” We must take care of our planet, our minds and our bodies, and walk with compasion.
I look forward to my walk tonight.
Down the Forest Path 