Honor

While listening to NPR last week, I heard a story about the Greensboro Four and the Woolworth Sit-In. It is an amazing event in our history, an incredibly important action in the fight for civil rights, and a great reminder as we face new aspects of inequality and issues of law in our country (e.g., equal marriage rights).

Apparently, the struggle to find some way to honor the actions of the Greensboro Four has been going on for quite some time, which led me to thinking about honor—personal honor and honoring others—and how that affects our experience individually and collectively.

Behaving honorably may be linked to the powerful words and concepts of many great thinkers and teachers:

• Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness. ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.
• So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you... ~ Mathew 7:12
• This above all: To thine own self be true, for it must follow as dost the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man. ~ Shakespeare
• Right Action aims at promoting moral, honourable and peaceful conduct. That we should also help others to lead a peaceful and honourable life in the right way. ~Walpola Rahula

It seems to me behaving honorably requires a commitment to the act of honoring ourselves and others. My first exposure to the concept of honor was probably via the Bible (something I heard in a Sunday school class no doubt... to which I was privy because I tagged along with one of my church-going friends just so I could see what it was all about).

"Honor thy mother and father."

So simple and yet, for so many of us, such a difficult and challenging process! Certainly, in my teenage years and even early adulthood, I fell quite short of this one time and again. Honor requires forgiveness, patience, and empathy... and I struggled to maintain these with my family for a long time.

It was only recently I realized how many grievances I carried with me... attached like superglued velcro to my narrative of done-wrong and poor-me and not-fair. I am more understanding, now that I am a parent, of how hard you are trying even when you make incredible mistakes or repeat a pattern you had sworn to disavow as soon as you had a child of your own.

I also have a clearer understanding of how counterproductive it is to bring past pains with you into the present. Eckhart Tolle provides wonderful reminders to be more honest with ourselves about our current state of pain in the moment. Are you in pain right now? Not do you remember pain, not have you ever experienced pain, not has anyone ever done something to hurt you. Are you in pain right now? Right now.

And so the act of honoring others requires greater honesty with ourselves, a greater abundance of patience, and an increased commitment to letting go of the past. It requires vigilance and returning again and again to fall short... and then try some more. Fall seven times. Stand up eight.

It also requires we honor ourselves... which, I am guessing, if we were all to be honest, is not always so easy to do. Truly honoring ourselves requires the same amount of commitment, forgiveness, and patience - coupled with self-esteem, stark honesty, and the ability to treat oneself with respect and love.

And if we cannot honor ourselves, how will we be able to honor others? And if we cannot honor others, how will we be able to honor ourselves?

The questions of equality and rights that arise so often in our society seem, to me, inextricably linked to the concept and practice of honor. If we cannot honor each human being - each other living being - as valuable, essential, and interconnected... our ability to behave honorably lessens significantly.

And so our character (as a person, as a society, as a world) suffers.

May you honor yourself and others today in a way that brings you greater peace and comfort. May you see yourself and everyone around you as purposeful, important, and divine.

Hormones

When I was pregnant, I read somewhere my body would undergo the impact of more hormones during that 9+ month cycle than it would my entire lifetime (from menses to menopause) were I never to conceive.

In other words, a pregnant woman is more deluged with chemicals and biological crazy-juice during the span of 40 weeks than a non-pregnant woman would be over the course of approximately thirty-five years.

I share this not as a cautionary tale (though it is worth noting), but rather as a way to underscore my familiarity with the seemingly inane and all-too-often surprisingly difficult impact one's chemical system can have upon thoughts and feelings.

Cognition and affect. Terms not often bandied about in regular conversation, but two of the cornerstones of psychology/counseling. And, as it turns out, two of the ways we (in Western society at least) most often identify our self.

What are you thinking? How do you feel? We assume our thoughts and feelings are ourselves... and so when they go careening in a direction unanticipated and not entirely embraced, our correlative inclinations get the better of us. We connect the thoughts and feelings to us. The me-ness of I.

And yet, as one of my meditation instructors so wisely pointed out, you are not your thoughts. If you and your thinking were synonymous, you would not be able to notice (or think about) your thinking. You would not experience your heart (feelings) and mind (thoughts) at odds were they somehow connected inextricably to your core.

That is the idea in Zen at least. You are not your thoughts. You are not your feelings. And therefore, they do not control you.

This is sometimes difficult to remember, however, when we are sitting on the bed, crying profusely for no good reason and feeling a tightness in the chest that threatens to steal our breath.

My hormones have always been a challenge. I am one of those women who undergoes a stark transformation each month as my body's flood of whoknowswhat crashes forward and things like rationality, optimism, confidence, and patience go splashing out the window.

This, coupled with what is most likely seasonal affective disorder, means winter gets kind of tough. My outlook changes. My perspective shifts. My thoughts become darker... more destructive, less kind. My feelings become heavier... dangerously close to anger, volatile yet fragile, and pushed to a level exponentially larger than warranted by the tangible circumstances of life.

It was not until these last few weeks I was really able to step back from the powerful presence of my negative feelings and thoughts - and experience them on a level separate from me. I was able to know them as other - distinct from the core of who I am. And in that knowledge, I found an anchor to which I could return each time I felt too tossed about by my internal whirlwinds.

And so, I am seeking to find a more sustainable form of balance wherein I notice and acknowledge my thoughts and feelings... and then I let them go. It's very difficult so far. I'm sure my family could tell you with a serious look upon their faces: I am not very good at it yet.

But... the funny thing about life is how everything is so interconnected. Thought becomes feeling, feeling becomes word, word becomes deed. Minds shape moods and moods influence thoughts - and there in the midst of it all is some form of self unshaken by the little "i" concerns of ego. Some part that remains awake and processes everything on a meta level - steadfast in a peaceful state of being.

That place - that meta state, that big "I" self - has many names and shows up in many different places. Religion, philosophy, meditation and mindfulness, psychology and counseling. It feels different, and often better, than the majority of what most of us refer to as "life."

And whether you believe in some form of god or no; practice meditation, mindfulness or Zen faithfully or not; see a therapist or counselor; find a different experience of yourself via art, performance, dance, music, or the written language... whatever your path... that place can be your anchor.

Buddha said: Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.

I'm going to try and remember I am in this muddle of winter and self-imposed limbo - and seek my anchor in the nearness of spring, the intransigence of life, and the bravery of faith.

May you embrace the separateness and wholeness of the myriad aspects of you. May you know you are and regain control in times of difficulty.

Silence

There is an odd and inherent contradiction to blogging. It creates a public and infinitely open forum from which to communicate, and yet the words shared are limited via the medium used and must always be funneled down to an individual perspective. It's hard to walk the fine line sometimes between personal and purposeful. Ultimately, one's intention as a writer remains helpless in meeting the perspective of the reader... and so the process ends up feeling a bit like writing a love letter to someone you know from afar - without expectation of response.

In looking back on yesterday's post, I have been thinking a lot about silence (specifically, the Buddhist take on silence), and also about suffering and compassion... and how that all blends together in the context of blogging through the process of my spiritual exploration.

One of my favorite Buddhist proverbs is:

Do not speak, unless it improves on silence.

I love the recognition of silence as something valuable, as well as the importance of thinking before speaking. Sometimes our words are like our thoughts: random, ego-driven, tangential, and disconnected from mindful awareness. Silence may afford further reflection; it may allow someone else an opportunity to provide wisdom, guidance, or strength; and it may lead to a more silent internal state... one truly centered in the now and from which we may speak and act with authenticity and humility.

How, then, does silence come to bear upon blogging? It's a rather talky activity - potentially self-important and typically one-sided in its execution. My guess: Most bloggers negotiate and utilize large periods of silence before setting out to communicate their thoughts. Posts are purposeful, the structure and tone of the blog decided in advance and carefully maintained by the author. I would also hazard a guess most bloggers are doing so because they value interpersonal connection and believe there is merit to sharing their thoughts and personal experiences while reading those of others in an effort to remember and expand upon the universality and interconnection of the human experience.

One of the things I struggle with lately, in seeking to better understand Buddhism, is in knowing how to balance an awareness of the suffering of others with an openness and honesty to my suffering - in whatever form it may take. This can be difficult because we are relativistic thinkers... and so our tendency is to compare self with other - be it for good or ill.

Halfway through my post yesterday, I started to worry my focus on boredom might seem callous in the context of the earthquake in Haiti, the health struggles of friends and their families, the financial struggle of thousands striving to make basic necessities (food, shelter, clothing) a consistent and stable reality, the disenfranchisement and discrimination faced by individuals whose rights are unjustly and consistently denied...

It is a luxury to be able to focus on an emotion such as boredom. I see it as an opportunity to practice gratitude and consider my blessings to be able to label my suffering with such a small and trivial word. And I chose to blog about it - and to keep it even when worry struck halfway through - because I hoped my words might bring a sense of connection or comfort to someone else standing under the same raincloud.

There is another proverb I found today that seems fitting:

Every path has its puddle.

Sometimes the puddle exists in the wake of a tsunami and threatens to overwhelm us, and sometimes it is merely the mirage of water we seem to be standing in - a self-propelled hallucination because we are determined to see water where there is none.

I like to think there is merit in exploring both.

May you listen, pause, and breathe today. May you answer all forms of suffering (even the imagined ones) with compassion and courage.

Boredom

Today I am bored with myself. Bored with my life. Bored with routine, with the walls of my apartment, with my non-job-ness, with inhabiting the world of a almost-four year old. Bored with a dog who won't stop peeing in the apartment, with cooking three meals a day and cleaning once a week and doing laundry/changing sheets/switching towels.

Once I acknowledged my feeling-state as boredom, I quickly realized no one was responsible for it save me. I also made the connection that boredom, for me, is very closely linked to sadness and ennui. And I use ennui here not to be snooty or throw around "10 cent" words... but because it really captures the more subtle connotations of the listless, mopey, sticky place I internally reside.

My gut instinct, in thinking about how boredom might tie in to Buddhist philosophy, was it belies a sort of dissonance of self. Boredom is the symptom, not the problem. It's simply a reverberation of some wiggling, uncomfortable, niggling area of unease - most likely an area of attachment or ego left entirely unattended and therefore running amok.

I also wonder if boredom results from actively evading a feeling state or "truth" I wish to remain hidden. After all, the use of the label boredom allows me to point fingers outside myself... naming some exterior other as the source of my problem.

Steven Pressfield (author of The War of Art) might label boredom "resistance" and suggest my state of ennui directly links to a decision to run away from or avoid my true calling - to work against action connected to my higher self and soul's purpose.

William Glasser (father of Choice Theory) would suggest I am choosing boredom - accepting and continually creating/embracing this feeling-state. He might say I am placing the power of my feelings within the domain of external sources, rather than taking responsibility for that which I control: my actions and expectations.

And the Buddhists? As with many spiritual pursuits, you will find many answers along your search for capital "T" truth. I think, as with many things in life, sometimes it helps to take it all in and do your best to synthesize a response that syncs up for you.

My impression at this point in my life: The first step is noticing and naming one's boredom. As I understand it, this relates back to a common Western habit - that of disassociating ourselves from our thoughts and feelings. By naming it, I can begin the process of letting go, which then (hopefully) leads to an eventual shift away from boredom/sadness into a more productive and less painful place.

And then... I have to allow myself to be in my boredom and sadness. Rather than running away from it, or using meta-cognition (thinking about my thinking) to avoid experiencing those feelings, or trying to subvert them through mindless activities (eating, surfing the web, wandering the house)... I have to be bored; I have to feel sad. I must allow myself time and space to think the bored/sad thoughts and feel the bored/sad emotions and go wherever I may go without holding on.

It's a very uncomfortable thing. I have tried it, and I didn't like it. But I noticed fully inhabiting my bored/sad state seemed to clear away some of my self-imposed smokescreens surrounding some other emotions... which ultimately link to choices I am making, attachments I have yet to acknowledge, and a lack of openness to my true self - my Buddha nature, as it were.

We are very hard on ourselves sometimes. We often avoid the reality of the darker side of ourselves in an effort to attain some imagined ideal of perfection. I believe we are a mixture of the human and the divine. We walk a physical and spiritual existence wherein we are beings of tangible and intangible forces. And in that dichotomous paradox, we struggle to balance between frailty and grace... sometimes forgetting both are true expressions of self.

May you accept and truly inhabit your thoughts and feelings today and gain greater insight. May you allow yourself to be who you are, where you are, without judgment or disappointment.

Empathy

One of my daughter's favorite activities is watching old cartoons on YouTube. She tends to go for Disney's Silly Symphonies, Pink Panther cartoons, or even something as modern as my personal favorite: Pixar Shorts. Of course, inevitably in the course of searching, watching and getting recommendations, we eventually end up somewhere unanticipated and stumble upon items at times outlandish and at times surprisingly good.

One such example was Emily's Journey with Gaucher Disease (both Part I and Part II). For whatever reason, my inquisitive little daughter (who is equal parts artistically expressive and scientifically investigative) became obsessed with this video for over a week. She would request it, watch it multiple times in one sitting.... and eventually started to point out telltale signs she had what Emily had. "See how my belly sticking out, Mama? I can't eat... maybe me sick."

Rather than discourage her fascination with the video, I let her watch it as much as she liked and tried to address her questions and worry patiently. I figured such exploration on her part would make it easier to discuss things if and when anyone in the family became seriously ill, and it would hopefully give her a greater range of understanding/compassion/empathy any time she encountered someone struggling with an illness. Yet, I am glad the "Gaucher Disease" phase passed and we are back to The Ugly Duckling and Ferdinand the Bull.

Just the other day, we were doing our usual gallivanting around YouTube and my daughter happily poked her finger at a video we had never seen before: The Little Match Girl. I didn't realize it at the time, but it's attributed to Disney/Pixar and the version we found relies solely on animation and music.

As an education buff, this was especially interesting to me, because it required my daughter to unravel and create the narrative for herself... and it lead to many interesting questions. We discussed poverty, homelessness, orphans, fantasy/reality, and eventually... death. She didn't realize what happened in the story the first time we viewed it, but a different version with narration (requested by my daughter, of course) provided insight into the ending and gave the entire story new meaning because we have often talked about death, dying, and the many theories of what happens after death.

It was an equally moving and sobering experience because I realized how little suffering she has been exposed to in her short life. As a parent, I consider this a blessing in a way because it means we've been lucky, and it means she feels safe and protected in this family. The idea of an adult mistreating a child, of a child being alone in the world, of a child not having enough to eat - all of this is foreign to her.

As a novice Buddhist and lifelong spiritual spelunker, it also struck me as a crossroads in her development as a human being and increased an awareness of my responsibility to her in way of tangible and intangible guidance.

Were she to continue living in ignorance of the suffering of others, she might become less able to respond with gratitude to her numerous blessings. She might assume everyone has an equal experience and live her life in blindness to the reality and effect of privilege and power across societies. She might never learn the importance of donating her time, resources, or energy to causes of compassion or justice.

And in the wake of that afternoon, my mind has continued to race over possible ways to help her gain knowledge and experience in this area of life without creating undue psychological or emotional hardship. Empathy is an integral skill and, I believe, a foundational building block in learning to effectively navigate interpersonal relationships with respect and kindness through one's entire life. I want my daughter to be able to empathize with others because I know it will help her become a considerate, responsible, and generous adult.

Again I continue my tightrope walk along the middle way... seeking balance in an effort to discover the blemishes of my little "i" self while pursuing a course of right action for the benefit of my and my family's growth. Not too fast, not too slow. Not too much, not too little. Honest, but gentle. Firm, but malleable. Strong, but always openly human.

May you notice someone invisible to you up until today. May you respond with empathy to the experience of others.

Disaster

Being in the middle of a natural disaster can feel not only frightening, but also paradoxical. I think, particularly in Western culture, there is a tendency to view nature as benign and loving; however, nature can also be highly dangerous, unpredictable, and seemingly cruel.

I say seemingly because ascribing human emotion to natural phenomena seems somewhat counterproductive. Maybe it's helpful to have someone or something to lash out against... fight can be a form of survival, and sometimes manufacturing a fight can provide the catalyst we need for decisive response. But, ultimately, the motives of the natural world cannot truly be divined and most likely have nothing to do with us on an individual or ego-based level.

But disasters do sometimes feel cruel, or unfair. Natural disasters, like any crisis, are what psychologists or counselors would call an unanticipated (or unexpected) adverse event. We didn't plan for it, didn't see it coming, and don't want it in our lives. It creates stress, engenders fear, and may shake our resolve because it challenges the religious, spiritual, or other meaning we have made of our lives.

Our safety and stability are questioned; the truth of our lack of control is brought into stark and startling focus. And often, in the midst of so much emotional, physical, and mental difficulty... we are left to question everything we knew before the crisis occurred.

I have been through only one natural disaster in my life, and it was rather minor compared to the many disasters experienced by so many others. We lost power, but it was restored in less than a week. There were downed trees, blocked roadways, flooded areas, and exposed power lines everywhere, but our house was untouched and still inhabitable. We had no cooking gas, but we had running water, plenty of ice, and access to grocery stores and restaurants scrambling to stay open and provide resources. There were few deaths or injuries, and everyone in the region rallied together to provide assistance, food, shelter, friendship, and compassion in the aftermath of the storm.

It is difficult to fully comprehend the devastation those in Haiti are now facing. The images and stories being shared via international news agencies provides an opportunity to show compassion and provide assistance in whatever way we are able, while also taking stock of our blessings and practicing gratitude.

To suggest the earthquake is anything other than a natural disaster - an unanticipated adverse event that took place in the natural course of life - seems to me both unjustified and inhumane. It's akin to seeing someone suffering before you and choosing to increase their pain rather than seeking to relieve it. In essence, "kicking someone while they're down" - both cowardly and malevolent.

Perhaps you have already found ways to offer assistance. Perhaps you are already holding those affected in your prayers and meditations. Should you be seeking information on how to help, CNN has an excellent site with multiple links.

If you feel uncomfortable sending money, perhaps you can consider others ways to show compassion and be a source of assistance, comfort, or peace. I encourage you to reach out, to empathize, and to consider the words of Thich Nhat Hahn: "Compassion is a verb."

May you ease the suffering of others as you are able. May you practice gratitude, compassion, and love with mindful awareness.

Passion

My husband and I were channel surfing the other night (something Bo Lozoff sagely recommends NOT doing) and caught an excellent documentary on WTTW's Independent Lens series. It focused on the Young@Heart Chorus from Northampton, MA.

If you've never heard of this group, not only is it worth googling them to find more information, but I highly recommend you find some means of watching the documentary by Walker George. Both the group and the film are life-affirming, humbling, and inspiring.

I have been thinking about the film for several days now, and different elements keep echoing back to me, offering insight and sparking further contemplation. It is easy, while watching the film, to meet each member of the chorus and think, "I want to be like that when I'm 80!" (or 90 as the case may be). The vitality of each member is striking - an unmistakable joie de vivre - expressed in myriad ways: biking, driving, exercising, flirting, performing, loving, surviving.

A message of passion dominates the film. Parallel to purpose, but more joyous in its expression, passion seems to be the overriding message dominating my thoughts. And so, the reverberation of this theme offers an opportunity for reflection and potential clarification... both of which might lead to positive change.

My issues of stuckness and control are linked to a lack of passion in my life. Rather, I seem to hold myself back from exploring or expressing my passions. They are there... and in my quieter and more honest moments, I know exactly what they are... but I remain too cowed, too stifled, or too afraid to unchain whatever part of me remains bound so I may fully express them.

And I know it is easy an easy switching of perspective to flick between yes and no, go or stop, nothing or something. But as with so many elements of Zen, there is knowing... and then there is knowing. Understanding. Grokking. Practicing. The span between the two can sometimes feel immense.

I'm not sure many Buddhist texts or teachings address passion, nor is it clear how the two intersect. Buddhism advocates letting go of attachment, and to some passion may seem like a form of attachment. Perhaps it is.

And yet, I do believe such focus and mindful attention is integral to fulfillment and personal peace. Ideally, in its best moments and truest form, passion is an authentic expression of self in the absence of ego.

Ultimately, the middle way provides guidance. Be passionate... but don't let your passions blind you to the wellbeing of yourself or others. Devote yourself... but not so much as to lose sight of who you are or the importance of those around you. Pursue your joy... but not at the expense of another's happiness or peace.

May you know your passion and pursue it freely. May your passion inspire others and bring joy.