In the Middle of the Desert

Out of nowhere,
a stallion came charging
that threw itself
on top of my back.

Woman body
no match for the beast,
it was clear
resisting was not the way.

A voice whispered
relax, relax,
relax and breathe
oh, so softly.

Let go of all,
including even
the wish for existence.
This is your only chance.

Meeting 'The Dictator' Within

In college, I return to my dorm room, only to find my backpack missing. An FBI investigation shows the crime has been committed by some men from Wadiya, 'The Dictator's country. I am at a loss and in a state of panic. What to do without my identity papers, my glasses, my money? 

I greatly respect the wisdom of dreams. In this case, it was not hard putting together the story in the dream and the inner climate I found during sitting this morning. Body in a state of assault, mind scattered, heart shut off, anxiety, just like in the dream . . . A general feeling of disconnection, and of being lost. Thoughts racing about the many projects awaiting, the itch to leave my seat and get busy, and much stress from violence done to myself. Meeting the dictator within, the tyranny of extreme busy-ness that was robbing me from the ability to see clearly and to be myself. 

Making daily call to my mother earlier, I played the part of dutiful daughter but I could tell I was not being fully present for her. Mind was elsewhere already thinking ahead, and messed up heart had other interests. A lot went on during those few minutes with my mother, and her usual enthusiasm at hearing me was not there. I hung up feeling empty, a fraud . . . 

Today will be a time for making peace with 'The Dictator'. Noticing its effects, not giving into the compulsion to do too much, taking the time to just be, and devising a strategy for effectively doing my work without getting taken over by the driven-ness. I shall make a list, and decide on priorities, and take on one thing at a time, without rushing. Work as meditation, engaged in state of concentration.

Do you ever encounter 'The Dictator'? How do you know? How do you respond?

Just a Small Pin

Last night's dream . . . 

I am with a man walking around a brand new house. The house is empty and very spacious. The man kneels down to the floor, and using a small pin, uncovers a tiny hole right at the juncture between the wall and the carpet. The hole is covered with a metal grid. The man lifts the grid with his pin, and looking up close we can see a whole world of miniature people moving through tiny spaces. For a moment, I slip into this shrunken world, and meet familiar faces. 

I am not surprised. I have been more and more cognizant of the contractions in body and mind, and the associated long-standing tendencies I have had to live in a shrunken world. The big change has been in the recognition of my responsibility for this state of being. No longer blaming others, playing victim, or giving into stuck-ness. And at the same time, being patient, teaching the tightness to relax one moment at a time. A small pin, is all it takes. 

We tend to live within such a narrow band of experiences. 

Two Strong Men

I encountered them in my dream. Two men from the Israeli commando forces. Handsome, and filled with youthful energy. I wondered aloud what they were doing in my world, and got a quick answer. "We have come to take care of business." Not an ounce of aggression in their voice, only steadfast determination. 

Starting with my authoritarian father, I grew up to become afraid of power, my own and that of others. Power usually meant anger, and fear of the other person's anger. It has taking me years to start owning what is rightfully mine: power decoupled from old situations, power infused with the positive qualities of strength, resolve, patience, and yes, love also. Not letting the past dictate what ought to be done in this moment. Letting go of the identity of the scared little girl. 

Being on the Buddhist path has been a mixed blessing in that regard. I have struggled to understand the true meaning of some of the teachings about loving kindness, and acceptance for instance. Between non harming and non action, not defending one self, lies an invisible line that I have crossed too many times. Being a woman, in a patriarchal universe, there is of course the added layer of gender, and what that does to one's relationship to power. Misconstrued dharma and disempowered feminine make for a toxic brew. The good news is mindfulness practice has enabled me to see more and more the devastating impact of unfounded fear on my ability to be happy. Fear stemming from an illusory sense of self, and slowly being brought to light for what it really is.

From a practice standpoint, I find it useful to reflect on the Buddha's Five Powers of:

Success 

Desire 

Persistence/Energy/Effort 

Intention, Mind, Thoughtfulness 

Investigation/Discrimination 

"Go ahead, do what you have to do." I am now living out my response to the two young men, and realizing the positive qualities of power, embedded in wisdom. Both internally, during the course of practice, and out into the world, at home, at work . . . 

The Drama Within

Dreams have a way of giving meaning to an otherwise elusive internal climate. I woke up with much fear, and unease. The sweet dinner in a nice restaurant had turned into a nightmare. I remembered the waiter coming to warn us of a dangerous man on the loose, and then us leaving in search of a safe place. I was also told that my little dog, Coco had been run over by a car, and had been taken to the hospital. Two opposite forces, aggression and love playing out their drama inside the psyche.

Coco

Andrea Fella's talk at IMC last night was about fear and mindfulness. This morning, I am getting to practice . . . Using the quality of sustained attention to explore the mind-made fear palpable inside. Andrea talked about getting in touch with the sensations in the body, when no identifiable thoughts or beliefs are to be investigated. There is tightness in the throat, and an overall constriction. And an aversion to the experience itself. A fear of the unpleasantness. I remember Andrea's teaching about not jumping to premature conclusions. "You are to be with what is right in front of you. Do not try to get to the center right away". 

An invitation to dwell in stillness . . .

Sitting, I found the angry man who aggressed me at the pool. Very much alive inside.  A rageful guest, who left after a while. And then the bittersweetness of love laced with sadness.

You may listen to Andrea's entire talk on AudioDharma, under 'The Five Faculties and Fear'.

Speaking for the Silent Ones

The man was sitting all by himself in a waiting room in a hospital. I happened to walk by and noticed he did not look well. I went to fetch the doctor in the next room. The doctor quickly checked on the man, who asked for a bedpan. The doctor left, and I assumed he had gone to get what the man asked. Minutes passed, and no sign of the doctor. I sat by the man who was now looking worse and worse, and no longer spoke. I reached out for his hand, and was surprised when he squeezed my hand. I wondered how to get him the help he so badly needed.

This was my dream last night. I awoke with pain in my heart, and even greater determination to carry out the elder care and dementia project I have been working on with Dr. Allen Power. Foremost in my mind have been all the men and women living with dementia and who can no longer care for themselves or be cared for by their loved ones. My mother is one of them. I feel their immense distress, and also the craziness of a system that compounds their original plight with unnecessary added suffering. There is a better way, I know, and it demands a complete overhaul of the current biomedical approach. Out the drugs, out the institutional buildings, out the task oriented approach to care, out the erroneous beliefs, out the legitimized abuse, out this cruelty of epic proportions . . . 

Mindfulness is a radical act. It leads one to unplanned territories, as in becoming aware of the suffering right under one's eyes, and then taking action towards some mass remedy. I have been thinking a lot lately about engaged Buddhism, and what it means for me personally. Once hesitant to join the bandwagon of activism, I am now right in the thick of it. I have found my cause, and will not rest until my mother and her cohort of silent sufferers get their needs met, at last. 

What is your cause? How did you open your eyes to it? How does it tie in with your mindfulness practice?

A Change of Heart

(Back from two and a half week retreat with Ruth Denison, at Dhamma Dena Desert Vipassana Center, I am devoting the next few weeks to sharing Ruth's wonderful teachings.)

Bringing the Shadow to Light, with Ruth.

Often with Ruth, we would chant:

I am opening up in deep surrender to the Buddha Dharma in my life.
I am opening up in deep surrender, to the numinous darkness of my shadow.
I am opening up in deep surrender, to the powerful wholeness within myself.

And opening up, to the numinous darkness of my shadow, I certainly did.

I came in angry and complaining about people, and circumstances in my life. The first evening, after I told my story, Ruth set me straight, and asked me to look within myself first. "Awaken to that which is hindering you, and is imprisoning you from your most inner self." And she shared about her own life, and the choices she had made. She talked about her sometimes difficult husband, and how she would respond to him from a place of love. She told us how surprised she had been by the amount of anger often present in women, here in America, particularly toward men. I went to bed, and was met by shadowy figures in the night. 

Woman's Shadow in the Mojave Desert

I dreamt of a woman in her bathrobe, opening the door to a kind man who had come to meet her. She embraced him reluctantly, apologizing for not being properly dressed to receive him. She offered to feed him breakfast but could not find enough food in the fridge to fix him a good breakfast . . . The first in a series of dreams, all on the same theme. Women not ready to meet friendly men willing to love them.     During the ensuing days, I watched as the hindrances came and went, relentlessly. Hindrances, shadow. Same thing. Only, the shadows in my dreams were telling a story that tied together the bursts of anger, and anxiety, and the episodes of  diffuse wanting. Being with myself for a long retreat made it obvious. I needed a change of attitude. 

In my journal, I wrote, 'Inner transformation needs to take place before I can truly honor and nurture masculine part within myself, and also outside. Dhamma Dena is a great place to do that. Coming home to myself.'  As time went on, I could feel the purification taking place inside, physically, emotionally. The anger, the fear, being burnt away by sustained attention, the wise understanding of their irrelevance, and the willingness to slowly open my heart to love. There was nothing to do but endure the unpleasantness with great patience and acceptance of the process, of myself.  Ruth was showing me the way. I knew she had been there and in her I could trust. 

I left the retreat a changed person. Anger, resentments, complaints, projections, helplessness, defensiveness, distrust, fear . . . all gone, burnt away. In their place, love, trust, and openness have taken permanent residence. It's been two weeks now since I came back, and the joy is still there. Some rather wondrous events have taken place in my outer life as well, and I am still in awe of the gift that was bestowed upon me. 

Do you have similar stories to tell of inner transformation? How has your mindfulness practice changed you? I would love to hear. 

The Noble One

Last night, I was invited to marry le Comte de Lis, a French Count. In a dream . . . I woke up thinking about the obvious symbolism of the fleur-de-lis as a sign of nobility. And I started to wonder,  what does it mean exactly, to become noble, particularly within the scope of the Buddha's teachings.

 

From  The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, Bikkhu Bodhi's translation, on the noble disciple:

[He] regards material form thus: 'This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self.' He regards feelings thus: 'This is not mine this I am not, this is not my self.' He regards perception thus: 'This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self.' He regards formations thus: 'This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self.' He regards what is seen, heard sensed, cognized, encountered, sought, mentally pondered thus: 'This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self.' - Alagadupama Sutta 22.16

Touched by that pleasant feeling, he does not lust after pleasure or continue to lust after pleasure. That pleasant feeling of his ceases. With the cessation of the pleasant feeling, painful feeling arises. Touched by that painful feeling, he does not sorrow, grieve, and lament, he does not weep beating his breast and become distraught. When that pleasant feeling has arisen in him, it does not invade his mind and remain because body is developed. And when that painful feeling has arisen in him, it does not invade his mind and remain because mind is developed.- Mahasaccaka Sutta 36.9

[He] knows what things should be cultivated and what things should not be cultivated, he knows what things should be followed and what things should not be followed. Knowing this, he cultivates things that should be cultivated and does not cultivate things that should not be cultivated, he follows things that should be followed and does not follow things that should not be followed. It is because he does this that unwished for, undesired, disagreeable things diminish for him and wished for, desired, agreeable things increase. Why is that? That is what happens to one who sees.- Mahadhammasamadana Sutta 46.4

[He] does not abide with a mind obsessed and enslaved by identity view; he understands as it actually is the escape from the arisen identity view, and identity view together with the underlying tendency to it is abandoned by him. He does not abide with a mind obsessed and enslaved by doubt . . . by adherence to rules and observances . . . by sensual lust . . . by ill will; he understands as it actually is the escape from the arisen ill will, and ill will together with the underlying tendency to it is abandoned in him.- Mahamalunkya Sutta 64.12

[He] does not regard material form as self, or self as possessed of material form, or material form as in self, or self as in material form. That material form of his changes and becomes otherwise. With the change and becoming otherwise of that material form, his consciousness is not preoccupied with the change of material form. Agitated mental states born of preoccupation with the change of material form do not arise together and remain obsessing his mind. Because his mind is not obsessed, he is not anxious, distressed, and concerned, and due to non-clinging he does not become agitated.- Uddesavibhanga Sutta 138.21 

Which I take to mean in plain English:

Having right view of life's impermanence, 

and not clinging to that which cannot last, 

and not resisting that which will not endure anyway. 

Freeing one self from false notion of rigid I 

who would like to think it is in control, 

and adopting instead view of self as interdependent 

with constantly changing internal and external phenomena, 

and people, and things, and situations.

Letting go of hindrances of doubt, and worry, 

and ill will, and craving, and laziness.

Being noble entails being wise,
and following the Four Noble Truths,
and the Noble Eightfold Path.

Makes perfect sense to me, given little I know of life so far. How could I refuse the inner marriage that was proposed to me?

The Magic Tree

Dreams, dreams, never cease to amaze me . . .

Driving down a windy road, I notice all of a sudden a beautiful palm tree. The tree has a supernatural quality. It is glowing with rainbow colors at the top and also at its base. I decide to rush home to pick up Prad and bring him to see the tree with me.

Upon waking up, I share my dream with Prad. Funny, he tells me, he too dreamed about a tree. He was looking for a heritage tree, the same kind he and I used to scout for together when I was working on Witness Trees Environmental Art Project. And he was meeting me at art school, just like we did back then. 

Later, sitting and meditating together with Prad, as we now do every day, the magic tree is there as well, bathing us in all its numinous splendor. 

Under Her Black Cloak

Last night, I faced death, up close. Fear and dread, still very much present, I review the dream that visited me:

In a vast complex, she was waiting to be executed, along with all the other women in the building. Only fifteen more minutes before her time came. She was terrified but would not show it. Instead, she decided to adorn herself, and also to gather her personal belongings. Her plan was to go say goodbye to her husband and to leave her baggage with him. She came down the stairs, into the lobby where much activity was taking place. There, she ran into one of the executioners and his helper. The man wanted to know where she was going. Didn't she know she was supposed to be executed soon? The man appeared without any feeling at all. She reassured him, yes, she would be right back. At that very moment, though,  she experienced a change of mind. What was she thinking? No, she would not abide. She would fight for her life instead, and con her potential killers. She made her way towards the elevator to her husband's place. A large group of men, all seeming to have a good time, were gathered. She heard them discuss their imminent departure. Up on the higher floors, she found herself in a deserted maze of hallways, happy to find one man at last who knew where her husband was. She told her beloved about her plan to escape her deadly fate, and to elope, unseen. She would need to change her identity most likely, and would no longer be able to communicate with him. Maybe he and her could decide on a time and place  to meet, every year, in the chance that some day she might be completely free again? She left him, tearfully, and made her way out to safety, ending in the Arab quarter in Paris. There, a young  man agreed to help her and pretend to be her new husband. Under the protection of her black burka, she could lead her life again, safe from indiscreet eyes. 

To bear witness, she documented her journey in a secret diary. And all along,  she relied on her practice of mindfulness to carry her through her ordeal. After a very long time, she finally heard the much awaited news, that a coup had toppled down the rulers that had tried to kill her. That evening, she saw her husband appear on TV, asking for her to reconnect with him on Facebook.

Primal fear related to forces at war inside. The feminine experience of Mara. About risk that loving heart   may get annihilated by cold, power hungry masculine principle. Resourcefulness of feminine, that can con negative complex. Waiting it out, until it gets destroyed through practice of mindfulness.  The way back to the heart requires no less than complete sacrifice of all attachments - material things, self-identity, relationships. Not holding on, letting go. With the loving support from patient lover.

To you, my Dharma sisters, I ask, do you know that story?  

Two Fat Women

With girlfriend, in the train, I got  approached by two fat women:

They wanted to sit with us. Discouraged by the lack of space, they decided to walk away. Soon after, a man came to offer some food. Mini quiches and things, neatly arranged in a square white box. Not being hungry, I suggested, maybe he could give them to the fat women instead?

Last night's dream left me wondering. What was up with the two fat women? Something inside was getting stirred up. 

Sitting, I was met with great restlessness:

Resting place, impossible to find;

even counting breaths won't do,

neither do opening the eyes.

Body, not happy,

indulged with a few stretches,

still yearns for more action.

iPhone shows 15 minutes left,

and 10 emails waiting.

Torture, resumed.

Just staying in meditation seat

is only remaining card 

in mindfulness game

A look at timer, once more:

one minute and forty six seconds left.

Back to being with restlessness.

Who is in charge?

I turned to Bikkhu Bodhi for some help:

. . . a young god named Subrahma appears before the Awakened One and explains the problem weighing on his heart:

"Always anxious is this mind,

The mind is always agitated,

About problems present and future;

Please tell me the release from fear."

. . .  When Subrahma came to the Buddha with his urgent plea for help, he was not seeking a prescription of Prozacs that would tide him through his next round of business deals and his dalliance with celestial nymphs. He wanted nothing less than total release from fear, and thus the Buddha did not have to pull any punches with his answer. In four piquant lines he told Subrahma the only effective way to heal his inner wound, to heal it with no danger of relapse:

"Not apart from awakening and austerity,

Not apart from sense restraint,

Not apart from relinquishing all,

Do I see any safety for living beings."

. . . This relinquishment of clinging cannot come about through the forcible rejection of what we love and cherish. It arises from wisdom, from insight, from awakening, from breaking through the deep dark sleep of ignorance. The sovereign remedy is to see that right now, at this very moment, there is nothing we can truly claim as ours, for in reality "All this is empty of self and of what belongs to self." Form, feeling, perception, volition, and consciousness: all are to he given up by seeing them as they really are, as "not mine, not I, not my self." To see the truth that all conditioned things are impermanent, disintegrating, and bound to perish, is to turn away from clinging, to relinquish all. And to relinquish all is to find ourselves, not barren and empty-handed, but rich with the wealth of the noble ones. For one without clinging, there is no fear, no tremor or agitation, no dark winds of anxiety. The one without clinging is akutobhaya, one who faces no danger from any quarter. Though dwelling in the midst of aging, sickness, and death, he has reached what lies beyond aging, sickness, and death. Though the leaves fall and world systems shimmer, he sees security everywhere.

So many clingings, most of them unconscious still, waiting to be released with the light of mindfulness. I understand now my dream about the two fat women. Rather than pushing them away, I need to invite them for tea instead. To find out what drives their (my) insatiable hunger, and to understand their (my) suffering.

From Greed to Rapture

Still fresh from powerful sitting experience . . .

It started with just breath, and the imprint, still fresh in body, of contraction in earlier dream state. A dream about greed, and money, and fear of not having enough, and resulting tightness that did not let love in.

Quickly dropping into the depth of self, I meet contraction, right in the center. Feeling it tighten even more, under the gaze of intent awareness. Tightening, tightening, until it burns my whole inside. Oh! the suffering. From grasping, grasping, more and more . . .  Gentle breath, one after the other, enveloping the inferno, with great patience and love. Paradox of joy from great clarity, and the sense of being at one with reality of hell. Leading to burning mass dissolving into internal cavity, gradients evening out between hotness and coolness.  Happy feeling. Noticing subtle clinging to joy itself. And almost at once, strange sensation in body. Energy rising from base of the spine, and moving up in corkscrew motion, all way up. Soon whole upper body starts rocking back and forth, uncontrollably, in small motions. Energy now moving straight up, in waves. I become cylindric column of energy, and rocking body.

Going back to my notes from Gil's Dharma Day last Friday, about 'Rapture', part of his series on Seven Factors of Awakening - parts relevant to today's experience:

Joy is important part of Buddhist practice, and foundation for practice. It makes it easier to encounter our suffering. Paradoxical nature. Interesting juxtaposition, when seeing suffering and being happy. Often times, energy of mind and attention is fragmented, and drains us. Deep contentment and joy come when energy of attention is settled. Joy can then bubble up from within and fills us. Leading to concentration, energies being unified and flowing easily

Buddha's expected ways of having joy for renunciates:

1. practice, knowing path of liberation
2. freedom from not having mind that has mind of its own
3. being secure enough in oneself to be able to share success of others
4. joy of meditation when mind is deeply concentrated; meditative joy has a lot to do with being absorbed into object of contemplation.
5. mind finds tranquillity 

Importance of being relaxed, and being open, allowing what needs to move through. Looking into currents of experience, feelings, energy.

5 different physical manifestations of meditative joy/rapture:

1. goose bumps
2. flashes
3. waves
4. light
5. equalized

All with varying degrees of intensity. Eventually one becomes tired of it, and starts feeling ordinary again. This helps detach, and move to the next level of change. 

I appreciate Gil's ordinary approach to rapture. A normal experience, just like any other along the path. No more, no less. Not be clinged to, not to be pushed away.

Clinging Trap

Like any mother, I always refer to my children, as, well, 'my' children. This innocent two-letter word, 'my', is loaded with implications that do not always bode well with the Buddhist way of life. I found out, yesterday.

In the middle of the night, I woke up, with painful emptiness in my core. Soon after, dream helped shed some light. My daughter was coming back home to pick up her belongings. She was with a friend, and was moving out to her friend's house. Just like that. Hardly any words exchanged, . . . Of course, dream is a metaphor for daughter's final step towards full independence as a young adult. Although my mind knows, the heart is having a hard time following, after what feels like a cold break.

Daughter as master teacher, dispelling long held illusion that she is 'mine' . . .

Two Roads

Today, Gil expanded on the topic of intention, this time addressing choices we make not just in the long run, but also moment to moment. Here are my notes - talk was videotaped, so you should be able to view it very soon:

The teachings of the Buddha frequently refer to the two directions we can choose at any moment: either skillful or unskillful. This supposes we understand what is most beneficial. How de we meet every situation? Gil read following poem from Robert Frost:

'The Road Not Taken'

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.  

We always have the choice between two options: to go further into the woods and get more entangled, or to take the road less traveled. Most people choose the first one. We can have people walk the path with us, but eventually, we are the only one who can walk the path. No one can do it for us. There is a poignancy in all the choices we make, including small ones. Analogy of two parallel lines. If one nudges one even slightly, in the long run it can result in the big difference in direction. We can have a role in where our life is going, and the choices we make. How we meet each moment and circumstances.

I shared dream I had with Gil:

I am in a clothing store, shopping with my daughter. In a room off to the side, I find an installation with, on the surface some flint stones with chiseled hooks at the end. I examine them, one by one. The stones are resting on a large black circular rock. I lift the rock and find another smaller black rock underneath. The whole thing is resting on a huge, light colored rock, most of it buried under the ground. On the right, there are also some fragments of a large female Buddha, made out of green marble. Only the face and the hands are visible. 

I ask Gil about persistent weight in my stomach, that shows up every time I sit. Should I keep paying attention to it, or should I ignore it? Weight feels like black stone in my dream. The stone hooks make me think of various clingings I have been examining. Gil wonders how I feel about the huge rock in my dream. I like the solidity, and the vastness. Gil suggests I do not turn away from unpleasantness in the stomach. There is something there for me to learn. I need to stay with it, and experience it within wider context. It may be an important step towards feeling greater compassion for others.

Grateful for teacher who can help me make skillful choices, as here in where to place attention during meditation.

Finding the Way Back to Feminine Self.

 Meeting Gil for weekly interview, I shared with him, last night's dream:

Sitting in a train, going to a vacation retreat run by two women who invited me. I get off, and start walking on an old, covered, arched bridge, over a big river. A man is helping me find my way. I marvel at the old slabs of stones covering the bridge. The man takes me to a coffee shop run by two women. The women will be able to help me, he says. The shop is in downtown Marseilles. It is early morning and the place is filled with customers. I look in my purse, for paper with written directions to the retreat place, and realize I must have left it behind. What to do now, I wonder. The women try to help me.

Gil's answer came, straight. Don't forget, you are already there. You are woman. The simplicity of his answer struck me.

I have been feeling a bit lost lately. Getting sidetracked by intellect, and need to show, once more, that I can hold my own, right up there with the Buddhist boys. Yesterday, while chatting with a group of women friends, about the small things that make up life, I could hear contemptuous voice.  This stuff's not important. I did not linger. Had to blog, and read, and work on a project, and meditate . . . Years of learning to devalue relatedness, for the sake of accomplishments. Years of forsaking my womanly nature, to compete in a patriarchal world.

I told Gil about the immense joy I felt, both times I had the privilege to listen to  talks given by monastic sisters at IMC. How differently they touched my heart, than the male teachers. Gil suggested that I switch to reading Dharma books written by women. Also the nuns from Saranaloka Foundation will visit IMC regularly starting beginning of next year.

Connecting with body and heart, is what journey is about right now. Talking with Gil, helped me find the directions I had forgotten, back to feminine nature.

The Big, Fat Man

Woke up in the midst of a dream. I was in a support group. Not sure I was moderating, or just part of group. A big, fat man stands up. He is very unhappy about not having a job. I try to empathize with him, and relate to his powerlessness, and helplessness.

Still feeling the man's angst, an encounter with self seemed of the order. And so, I sat.

Surprised by immediate sadness, and tears, which I did not know were there. Sadness dissolves into heaviness on the chest. Shallow breaths, bump into what feels like a leaded cape. Same kind that's used during X-rays at the dentist. Image of fat man keeps popping up. Thought, I am him. Noting, thinking. Back to breath. Not sure which way to go. To keep breath inside the cape, or to direct it inside the cape itself? Either way, cape's feeling heavier and heavier. Wanting cape to go away. Noting the aversion, and craving for what is not. Body wavering between intense heat, and coldness. Feeling like such a mess. Thought, I might as well let go, and be with it all. Quiet house suddenly wakes up to morning noises. Dogs barking, doors slammed, loud exchanges, microwave beeping, dishes clunking, liquid loudly sipped . . . I have no room for patience this morning. Only frustration, from raw, not happy self. I feel urge to get up and tell all living beings in the house to shut the f... up. That's how annoyed I am. One good thing from anger, is heavy cape's gone. Breathing. I am a Buddhist. I am supposed to sit with the anger, and just breathe. Feeling soooo human. Breathing. Bell rings.

I have been taking on a lot of volunteer assignments lately, all for very good causes. Unconscious and mindfulness are stepping up their watch to remind me about my very human insecurities. My needs for validation, and security, and power. With concomitant feelings of depression, sadness, powerlessness, and rage. It would be easy to dismiss those as 'just clingings'. While that may be true in absolute, right now, the path calls for no less than total truthfulness, and continued investigation of various parts of the self, including the big, fat man.

Practice First, Study Second

Being zealous student that I am, I approached Gil, and told him I wanted to start studying original teachings from the Budha. No more feel good readings from contemporary teachers . . . Better go straight to the source. Gil suggested that I start with In the Buddha's Words, a book by Bhikkhu Bodhi. Another option would be to follow the syllabus from Sati Center Sutta Study Class, Studying the Words of the Buddha, along with two recommended books: The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha, by Bhikkhu Bodhi, and Handful of Leaves, by Thanissaro Bhikkhu. Gil also advised me to not overdo it, two pages at the most each day, and to not get hung up on parts I don't understand.

Later, that same night, I had vivid dream:

I am participating in an experiment, in the countryside. First, I watch planes, as they drop seeds on vast areas of freshly plowed land. Later, land has turned into huge field of wild flowers. I marvel at the beauty of it all, and try to catch side view of undulating surface, from the road where I stand. I especially love the effect of the light playing through the rich yellow colors. Prad gives me a modest bouquet of yellow poppies he just picked from the field. All of a sudden, I remember I am supposed to do some research, involving two variables. I get preoccupied with who to submit research to? My old professor just left. I start looking for his replacement.

Danger of corrupting beauty of practice with academic striving. Study is a loaded word for overachiever that I am. I thought of Ajahn Chah, in Food for the Heart:

When people do a lot of study, their minds are full of words, they get high on the books and forget themselves. They get lost in externals. Now this is so only for those who don't have wisdom, who are unrestrained and don't have steady sati. For these people studying can be a cause for decline. When such people are engaged in study they don't do any sitting or walking meditation and become less and less restrained. Their minds become more and more distracted. Aimless chatter, lack of restraint and socializing become the order of the day. This is the cause for the decline of the practice. It's not because of the study in itself, but because certain people don't make the effort, they forget themselves. Actually the scriptures are pointers along the path of practice. If we really understand the practice, then reading or studying are both further aspects of meditation. But if we study and then forget ourselves it gives rise to a lot of talking and fruitless activity.

Hearing Gil and Ajahn Chah's wise words, loud and clear. Practice, practice. Study only as a way to support practice, not a distraction from it.

What to Do With the Pitbulls?

Kept awake, part of the night with a series of two, very vivid dreams:

At the airport, going by security check with the children. Man has lots of old and young pitbulls with him. I am terrified, and hoping I won't attract the attention of the monsters as we check in with the man. The man does not seem to care. The children go ahead of me, in line about to board the plane. In our haste, we have forgotten two pieces of luggage right next to the man. I need to go back to retrieve them, and get close to the dogs again. Sure enough, the dogs end up following me . . . I am trying to figure out how to not get hurt by them and how to get rid of them.

With husband, we are walking on the street, and come across Dick R, and his family. They are playing, including with miniature pitbull puppy. The Rs are living in the same building as us. Pitbull puppy turns into whole family, with big dogs and some smaller dogs. Dogs make their way into our appartment. I am terrified. What to do? I want to slay them. Image of husband cutting up the dogs and turning them into tea sandwiches. The dog meat looks more like smoked salmon.

Dreams are a good way to shed light on unexplained, raw emotions. It is true, I have been feeling fear, a lot, these last few days. Fear of anger, my own, and even more so, others' anger. Fear of conflicts from day do day family interactions. Fear that's getting in the way of meeting each moment with calm, and ease. Fear, raw, of unmediated aggression.

Thinking of story of Buddha's subjugation of mad elephant:

Toward the end of his life the Buddha was aging and weary. His influence over the Sangha was waning accordingly. The monk Devadatta, his cousin, watched the Buddha's aging carefully, and decided to take over the control of the Order as his successor. Devadatta had the courage not to pursue his aim solely by intrigue, but to proclaim it openly. Once, when the Buddha was preaching before a large congregation, Devadatta got up and said to the Buddha: "Lord, you are now old, worn-out, an aged man, you have lived your allotted span and are at the end of your existence. Lord, may you be content to live in this world henceforth unburdened. Hand over the Order to me- I will lead the Sangha!" The Buddha declined, but Devadatta repeated his plea three times. This stirred the Buddha to a rebuke: "I would not even hand over the Order to Shariputra and Maudgalyayana, still less to you, Devadatta!" By his sharp reaction, the Buddha had made Devadatta his enemy.Devadatta, who was humiliated in public, planned a series of intrigues to kill the Buddha. The third attempt on the Buddha's life took place within the city of Rajagraha. Devadatta bribed with promises certain mahouts to let the working elephant Nalagiri loose against the Buddha.The mighty bull-elephant, which had already killed one person, stormed through the streets on the exact path along which the Buddha was coming on his alms-round. Throwing away a person with his trunk, the brute elephant rushed at the yellow-robed Buddha who, unafraid, radiated loving-kindness towards him. Then came the miracle! Suddenly the raging elephant became calm and peaceful, and knelt before the Buddha, who lifted his right hand and patted the animal's forehead. This is the well-known story of the Buddha's subjugation of a mad elephant in Rajagraha.

Loving kindness . . .

The Truth of Who Am I?

I knew something was up, last night, before I went to sleep. A dark cloud, with 'who am I?' question written all over, threatened to take over my earlier good mood. I woke up with a dream:

In Paris, wandering the streets in the Latin Quarter. Prad is with me. I am completely naked. He, at least, has a blanket over himself. We pass by some student housing, and get mocked by some of the young folks there. I want to hide and look for refuge inside a building. I know I can't stay, and need to come out eventually. I ask Prad to share his blanket with me, to hide my nakedness.

Yes, I have been feeling naked, a lot, lately. No handy persona to hide behind, any more:

Strangers ask, what do you do? I say, I am in transition. Been doing a lot of meditation. Taking time to discern what to do next. All true. Response seems to satisfy questioners. I am the one who's struggling. Wishing I could rush to an answer, quick. Yes, I am a social worker. Or, I am starting a nonprofit. Or, even more dramatic, I am becoming a nun . . .

Instead, I am to follow the path of the heart, that requires no less than complete authenticity. At present, the truth lies in not knowing what other role to play yet, beyond that of wife, spiritual seeker, and hospice volunteer. And in knowing fully naked self, moment to moment.

Dream About Death and Love

Last night's volunteer training session at Hospice of the Valley, impressed me more than I realized. Sitting, this morning, I encountered, fear, lots of it. Breath, no match for the immensity of feeling. Thoughts, coming and going, about loved ones, and still vivid dream from the night:

A woman just found out her husband has a brain tumor. Later, she seizes while swimming in the pool, and a small tumor is also found in her brain. Husband comes and picks her up in his car. He jokes that it is Saturday night, and they have a date.

Exploring the fear, in between breaths. Fear giving way to clinging sensation. Grasping for what cannot be held. Eternal life, without death, without loss. I become aware of my delusions, and clash between what I wish for, and reality of impermanence.

Wisdom of the dream. There is only now, and it is to be lived in love.