zenjones

I went to the San Francisco Zen Center to sit early in the morning. I would have walked, but my husband was concerned about me walking alone in the dark through what he considered dangerous neighborhoods, so I called an Uber. It seemed to go against my ideas of Zen and simplicity, but it was actually very simple, so I didn’t worry too much.

There was a young student at the door, standing straight and respectfully, ready to direct newcomers. He was helpful and friendly. The first thing I did was step on the mat before the shoe rack while still in my shoes. I looked up to see a sign saying, “Please remove shoes before you step on the mat.” So immediately I was thrown into beginner’s mind.

I entered the Zendo left foot first, as the the young student had told me. He’d also told me to sit on any spot that didn’t have a plaque, but it was dark and I couldn’t see any plaques at all. I’m sure my posture was one of confusion and a literal helping hand came out of the dark to indicate a free pillow. I was relieved and grateful. I plunked down and was immediately comfortable in the silence. There was that familiar smell of oryoki bowls on the third day of sesshin. The sound of people getting comfortable on their pillows. Also the sound of a wooden hammer banging on a wooden block. I recognized it from our closing ceremony. The banging did not seem to have any rhythm or reason for the changes in loudness. Then there were bells and I sensed teachers in robes walking by.

(more…)

Practice period is over.

What have I learned? What was the value?

First: the gratitude practice was most helpful. I have added in the weekly “gratitude day,” and the nightly reflection has been second nature lately. It was something I’d tried to do for years; I’m grateful it worked this time.

The weekly pattern interrupts were most enlightening. I had to struggle with staying with the experience most of the time. I missed my comforts—and was able to see how much of my actions were seeking comfort.

I also saw how I used anger as a defense—I was so cranky, so easily annoyed. Especially during the week when I gave up my reading habit.

One effect of practice period is in the intensification of my usual daily practice. For example, today is Loving Kindness Meditation Day and while it is only 10 am I have noticed already three times my propensity for separation—heard that little voice say “not me”—and have breathed into the center of the chest, and thought “May you dwell in the open heart.” Usually I do the meditation in the morning and forget about it. But I believe practice period has brought practice nearer the surface.

Not drinking was not that hard. I thought it would be—I have a nightly glass of wine. It’s a signal that it’s time to put away the work and relax. But that part wasn’t the difficult part. It was the not joining in with the crowd. I went to a work event down at Hal Riney on the Embarcadero and never quite synched up with the other attendees, who were all drinking. But as far as my practice, it was good to notice the way I use these external cues to not experience the moment. And how hard it is—especially at a social event where I am often self-conscious and shy—to stay present to those feelings.

Tonight I’m going out to dinner with acquaintances I don’t know that well and feeling grateful already for the promised glass of wine.

But this week—the last week of practice period—the comfort I am giving up is reading. Though today is only the first day, and it’s only 9 a.m., I have already become aware of how I use this habit for comfort.

Last night I found myself awake at 2 a.m. and unable to return to sleep. My normal habit is to read on my iPhone ’til I fall back asleep. It usually works pretty well, but even if it doesn’t, I don’t much care because I’d rather read than most anything.

So I lay there practicing with it, and doing my nightly reflection in more depth. It was difficult to be grateful—I was cranky. As 3:30 rolled around, I decided to cancel my workout that was scheduled for 6:00 so I could sleep some more, and I fell back to sleep.

And now I find myself thirstily reading online, trying to drag myself away from The New York Times. Also, I caught myself unconsciously reading a New Yorker. I go now to hide them from myself.

This week is going to be difficult.

Floating on that pink cloud, glowing with big love. Is this not a great feeling? Of course, I am already grasping at it. How can I keep this? Bad Zen student.

During Ezra’s dharma talk on Saturday, he mentioned the dance of practice, and that answered so many questions for me. Questions like “Should I just go back to the breath all the time? What about staying with the sensation? What about loving-kindness?” I realized that different practice situations call for different tools. That there isn’t a prescription for this. Rather an awareness of the possible ways to approach a situation is called for.

In Elizabeth’s talk under the oak tree on Sunday she explained the recognizing, refraining, and returning practice in a way that made it very immediate and clear to me, and others told me it had the same effect. During the talk, one student mentioned how she went so quickly from asleep to awake using this practice that it surprised her.

Most of this sesshin was, for me, smooth and easy. The air was silky and warm and sweetly scented with pine or eucalyptus or the soap on a slow-walker’s skin. It was a joy to experience the changes of light throughout the day. I very much enjoyed being the camera, not as much being the photographer. Oh! And I almost forgot: the magic of the starlit gatha walk. It was something I’ve been afraid to do for years, and regretted missing. It was really something.

This year’s closing ceremony was poignant and moving and lovely. I am so grateful for all the attendees for their meticulous attention to their practice, and our shared aspiration.

This has always been the hardest week for me—the week where I give up coffee. In fact, I’ve never gone more than a couple days. But this year not drinking coffee has been very useful.

My mornings do not have that driven quality. I usually feel like I can’t do anything ’til I’ve had coffee. But now, the morning unfolds without that imperative. Most mornings, I’ve had a cup of tea, but I don’t get that jolt. So this practice has made coffee a preference, not a demand. And I feel a little less addicted.

I also used to have a cup of coffee every afternoon—I thought it kept me alert. But I had no problem staying alert without it, and even went out and stayed out late a couple nights without coffee.

I head into sesshin tomorrow. It’s lost that far away glow; I’d really rather stay home. But I’m committed. And hoping that the coffee table coordinator brews fresh coffee on Saturday morning!

It’s only been five days and I’m feeling like an addict, going through withdrawal. I don’t know what to do with myself. I come into the bedroom (where the TV is) and I just sort of stare in that direction. I knew that I was using TV to self-medicate to some degree, but I didn’t realize how much it helped me stay asleep to my pain. Now I know. Thanks a lot!

Of course, I have books and the Internet. I have distractions. But TV was my evening drug of choice. As long as I could zone out, I didn’t have to face these feelings of worthlessness.

To the five questions:

1. What is going on right now?
2. Can I see this as my path?
3. What is my most believed thought?
4. What is this?
5. Can I let this experience just be?

My most believed thought is that I should be comfortable. I want to go in the other room and whine at my husband. Something along the lines of “I am useless I am worthless nobody loves me.” And sob. And then maybe he’ll make me a cup of tea—or a big glass of whiskey!—and then do something to distract me from… me.

But I have found a book, a good distracting book. Will I just go there? Just replace one soporific with another? But shouldn’t I be feeling these yicky feelings? I can only take so much. Maybe three breaths. Okay, I’ll take three breaths.

I think I’ve had “Nightly Reflection” on my list of added practices for Practice Period for at least three years, but every time I’ve tried it I’ve fallen asleep within seconds. Last night, I managed to stay awake, and follow the instructions.

And today was pretty amazing. It was just like Ezra says in Beyond Happiness: “…as we become more attuned to what is happening during the day, these moments begin to stand out, and gratitude is more likely to arise in the present moment.”

It’s been happening all day. Just now, as I was reading in the bedroom (not watching television), I heard the dishwasher go on, and my heart swelled with gratitude for the dishwasher, for my husband for running it, for the happy mundanity that is my morning when I empty it.

Here is a poem I have lately fallen in love with that seems as much about gratitude as love to me:

Aimless Love

This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.

In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.

This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.

The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.

No lust, no slam of the door –
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.

No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor –
just a twinge every now and then

for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.

But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.

After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,

so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.
I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone.

~ Billy Collins ~

This year I’ve got some really juicy believed thoughts to work with during Practice Period. I’m looking forward to it—in that relaxed way you do when you know you don’t have to do it now. I’ve got two days! But also, I am looking forward to it because my practice needs a kick in the pants. Since I moved to the city I am without my weekly meeting with the lovely Santa Rosa Zen Gang and it has had an impact on keeping practice in the forefront.

The main believed thoughts I’ll be working with are around being unemployed. At least I think that’s true–you never know with these pesky emotions.

What will you be working with? What do you have on your Practice Period Agreement? I’ve uploaded mine here. I’d love to see other Agreements, and to hear about your plans for Practice Period.

Also, if anyone would like to be a “contributor” to this blog–to either intensify their own practice or to help others with their practice–please send me an email and I will give you a log-in and password so you can have your own posts. And, of course, any comments will be most appreciated.

I’ve avoided following my practice period commitment as much as possible. I was out of town and off the grid, I was busy at work, I was… scared. The last one I didn’t really know about, but today I experienced that fear viscerally.

And oh boy did I try to avoid that.

My primary gap is that I avoid experiencing the pain and fear around feelings of worthlessness and failure. I have a really good example of failure to practice with. But did I? No. I was just too busy.

But today I came face to face with that failure situation and the feelings I have all around it. Thank you, Facebook. I received a notice from the person I blame for that failure—all about her success. Oh, my stomach roiled. Oh, the believed thoughts I had! And how my core fear was activated.

I decided I better go look in the fridge and see what we had to eat.

Halfway to the kitchen I said, Hey wait! This is just that opportunity you’ve been looking for, you lucky girl! So I went back and sat on my pillow and stayed with it.

It was horrible: nauseous, difficulty breathing, a clot above my sternum, aches across my shoulders, spikes behind my eyes, and a tightening around my throat. And the thoughts were all blaming, vindictive, ugly. I had this moment of clarity wherein I thought, “So that’s where all these thoughts come from!” And then I went on to wish that I could get rid of them… Realized I was adding something, and went back to the sensation in my body. Thought of suicide—which really surprised me. Thought: I. Don’t. Want. This. I don’t want to be this person. I sat there in the miasma of thoughts and sensations as long as I could. My brain kept wanting to take me away: it came up with images of success (I just got a promotion, I have a wonderful marriage and fabulous friends) and I wanted to follow it there because that is much more pleasant than WorthlessFailureLand. But I came back and I came back and then I said, If you come back one more time for three breaths you can think about what you’ll make for dinner.

Here’s something I found interesting: I really didn’t want to write about this. I really didn’t want you to know this about me. I am not this kind of person.

Except I am. And now you know.

Last Sunday, during our discussion, Ezra asked, “Why couldn’t we do practice period all the time?” There is something more compelling about a limited time event—I know this because I work in the marketing industry and whenever a client makes an offer, we add a “sense of urgency” with a note saying: “Offer good until ________.” It’s often an arbitrary date; but it increases sales every time.

And there’s also Ezra’s own story about how he had a painting of a person skating on thin ice, and he put it on the wall where he could see it every day and be reminded that we are all skating on thin ice. But after a couple months, he didn’t see it any more. It’s power had been drained away by familiarity, by familiarity.

I think having practice period all the time would do the same thing. In a way we do. The most powerful result of our practice is how we use it in every day life, being aware of our most believed thoughts, asking ourselves “What is kindness in this situation,” seeing our challenges as our path. We do need reminders, of course, and sitting with our zen group, talking to our teacher, and attending sesshins are big reminders.

Ann and I also share daily reminders that I have found very helpful. Because they change every day, they don’t lose their power. They can also be appropriate to what is coming up for us on that day.

But practice period is eating and sleeping practice. I love it at sesshin when I wake up practicing, without thiking. I’m like, “Okay, this is what good students must do!” Last night, I woke up for no particular reason, and finished reviewing my day (I’d fallen asleep mid-review).

This last month of intensified practice brought three things to my practice:

• Labeling thoughts. This was amazingly fruitful in my day-to-day life, in helping me be aware of what I bring to situations, and allowing some space for me not to react as if those believed thoughts were true. At least once a day—and usually more often than that—I have noticed a believed thought propelling me toward an unconscious reaction. It has made me more skillful.
• Gratitude. This has been an important part of my practice for years, but not until the nightly reflection did it play such a systematic part in my practice. When I’m thinking of things to add to my list of items to be grateful for, I somehow don’t have room for items to bitch about.
• The joy of Ann’s haiku. I fell in love with Zen practice first through the spare and clean aesthetic (as I saw it, anyway, on a trip to Japan). Ann’s haiku perfectly embodies the practice as I see it: the complexity within the simplicity, the truth scraped clean of all nice evasions, the message in all its raw honesty and beauty.

It was enormously helpful to have the sesshin right in the middle there, too. To be in a community where this, just this, was the most important thing. Ahh, more gratitude.