The Hazards of Craving the Happiness From not Craving

Nothing like being away from one's comfortable home, to get in touch with the extent of one's cravings, and what that does to one's sanity. Sitting in my impersonal room at the hotel, I close my eyes, with the signal of the bell. Sweet ring soon transforms into shrilling sound of repair man drilling away. I was told by my host, guests usually do not hang out here during the day - meaning this is the time when we take care of business, so don't expect too much . . . Enough for trusting Trip Advisor's recommendation!

Hungry, lousy breakfast from hotel. Craving good, healthy food I am used to. Tired, this travel's making me weary, thoughts of when I return home, back to routine I have perfected. Sore bum from sitting on uncomfortable wooden chair, flashing image of cozy red egg chair in our living room. Not happy. Want to be happy. Craving feeling of well-being. Ah-ah moment. I am becoming a happiness addict, chasing after times of bliss during and outside of meditation. Ideas of what mindfulness practice should be. Conflict with reality. Not liking the uncomfortable moments, of which there are many, let's face it. Subtle, pernicious expectation that if I do it right, I will capture more tranquillity, more good times. And of course, ensuing judgement that takes me even further away from the possibility of happiness

Mindfulness In Transit

The woman installed herself, oblivious, on the seat I was about to call mine. Hateful thoughts directed at the stranger, convince me that C21 gate at Dallas Airport may be just the perfect place for today’s practice. No need to close my eyes, I am sure I will get plenty of material to work with, as I wait for American Airlines flight 872 to New Orleans.

The TV’s turned on the sports channel. All the guys are riveted, there’s a football game. I, on the other hand do not like TV very much, and football even less. I’m getting frustrated, dreaming of being home still, where I can at least – almost always – control my environment. I pull out my second sandwich. Although still full from the first one, I welcome the distraction from chewing and hastily tasting the mediocre almond butter sandwich. Two men approach to take the seats close to me, sending a whiff of cheap aftershave, my way. This is getting to be too much. I am suffering from aversion, and craving, big time. Engaging in noticing my reactions, softens the discomfort, and makes me almost happy. The couple in front of me teases me with their PDAs. I am taking things way too personally, and judging myself for it. Still, I wish I were with Prad, and not stuck here. Clinging. Aversion. If I had any doubts on my place along the Buddha’s path, this session at the airport lounge is setting me straight. You’ve got a long way to go, girl. No need to get all puffed up about your so-called awakening. No need to flagellate yourself either for your failings. I am starting to laugh by now.

7 Tips for Buddhist Bloggers

Given folks' enthusiastic response to my earlier post on '10 Tips for Buddhists on Twitter', here's more of the same, this time for Buddhists who like to blog. Feel free to add your own tip in the comment section below, and I will broadcast them on Twitter.

1) Be real. Blogs are a personal medium by excellence. You've got a unique voice, hence let it be heard! As a Buddhist on the path, there is value in sharing your personal journey. Your successes will give others hope. Your struggles will help normalize their owns.

2) Be mindful. Of others. Do not share private matters without the person's permission. Do not write badly about others, ever.

3) Be ethical. Always source your content, and also your inspiration, no matter how removed.

4) Be generous. Reciprocate comments. If someone takes the time to comment on your blog, pay them a visit, and leave a comment on their blog. If you visit a blog, and you read a post you like, don't keep your appreciation to yourself. Share it instead in the form of a comment.

5) Practice equanimity. You can't please everyone. There is a lot to be learned from differing points of view, and emotional reactions. Respond from a calm, loving place always.

6) Protect the integrity of your blog. Block rude, or unwholesome comments. Consider your blog as your virtual temple. A very special place to be treated with respect.

7) Be detached. Ignore page views, and focus instead on producing great, authentic content. I have purposely not installed Google Analytics for that reason.

It's common sense, I know . . .

The Patience to Sit and Hold

The feeling was back, stronger than ever. In my stomach at first, searing with its caustic quality. I caught myself wishing for the warmth of yesterday. Wishing. Thinking. Clinging. Using the breath to ground myself in the reality. Irritation, constriction, yes, that's what I am stuck with, this morning. Aversion. I relax into the frustration, the weight in the midst of my body, that's taking more and more space. Touching my heart, moving up to my throat, tight. I'm holding the thing, in the stillness of sitting, patiently breathing in, and out. Tenderness, and tightness. Image of Buddha's four similes, mentioned by Gil, yesterday. The probing surgeon, the gatekeeper, the watchman, the goat herder. All decidedly male images, that do not fit my feminine experience of holding mother. Mother patiently waiting, attending, gently to her brood, in this case one very unhappy child. Breathing in, and out. A bit of loosening. The clock's chiming in with the comfort of its ticking. Liking. Bitterness, the thing's got a taste, and it ain't sweet. Outrage, sadness, frustration, . . . Urge to solve, put an end. Thinking feeling has to do with ingrained urge to be constantly doing, and proving myself. No, I am just to keep on noting, and breathe. Save investigation for later. I notice a slow melting, not sure. And the bell rings.

So, This Is What Love Is!

Today was Dharma Practice Day with Gil, the first in a series dealing with the 7 Factors of Awakening. We spent the day exploring mindfulness, the first factor. Of course, I enjoyed the company of other people from the IMC community, and the gentle wisdom from Gil. What was so remarkable about the day however, had nothing to do with the formal teaching. No, it happened in the privacy of the first morning sitting, and I want to share it because it's so good.

Sitting, I started to feel all of me, like never before. No longer distant, or oblivious. But instead, close and intimate. Melting into each breath, holding my heart, and my body, and my thoughts, and all of my emotions, regardless. I became overcome with the same kind of total love that came to me when my children were born, and I held them, for the first time. Only now, I was holding myself. With great tenderness. And the realization of the monumental change, taking place. My heart, opening, onto itself. So, that is what it was supposed to feel like . . . No thoughts, only love. And tears.

I asked myself, why only now? Why did it take so long? To love one self should not be so difficult. And I remembered Pascal's words: "The heart has its reasons that reason doesn't know". The seeds of love can only take hold after the soil has been plowed, and fertilized, and watered, and all the weeds have been pulled. If I had not experienced so much suffering, if I hadn't come across the Buddha's teachings, if I had not been ready to make a leap of faith, if I had not practiced mindfulness, if I hadn't investigated, if I hadn't . . . the conditions inside would not have been there.

Of course, there will be more winters, and times of alienation, and of feeling at odds. And they will feel different, because of that one moment earlier today, when I dissolved into pure love.

Little Red Riding Hood

Into the woods, I met Little Red Riding Hood, and the big, bad wolf, again . . .

Only this time was different, because "My many hours of pain and darkness have convinced me to live life to its fullest, to suck the marrow out of my existence, and to play my natural role" (quoted from Vogue article, author forgotten). Buddha was there also, lighting the way out of the forest, urging me to retreat, and to commit, and to investigate, and to dream, and to see, and to love with compassion, and to choose wisely, and to focus, and to make a leap, of faith.

I used to think of myself only as Little Red Riding Hood, and to be scared of the wolf. Now, I see the wolf, and I feel for him, and I want to love him also.

Unpacking the Boredom

Sitting with myself, not quite knowing what to expect, as usual. I am starting in a good place, lots of love, and tranquillity. Yesterday's poems still very much present. Not the words, but the general movement from the heart, opening. Breath moving in and out, at ease. The vast expanse feels almost too big. Fear comes in, of getting lost in unfamiliar land. Thoughts pass and do not insist, leaving room for feelings. Fear, now joined by boredom. Boredom soon taking over, and threatening my concentration. To not get swept by it, instead noticing my dislike of the boredom. Breathing into it, exploring its boundaries. Thought of Gil's words during my interview with him, 'to unpack the boredom' . . . Tenderness, I need to be tender, and not tense up. Boredom becomes frustration. Big time. Another difficult guest in my house. Breathing, loving, at least trying to be. The anger's got a sad flavor to it, very subtle. Wishing it would go away. Realizing I am to follow Thich Nhat Hanh's practice. Breathing, loving, at least trying to be. It's hard. I get really tempted to open my eyes, and check, how much more time? Maybe the timer's not working this morning? No, to stay strong, and open for the moment. Anger still there, knot in my throat signaling definite sadness. Bell ring.