zenjones

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 ~

I don’t know, I guess I omitted it because I thought Ezra would think it was too goofy, what I call the Bulwer-Lytton exercise. One of the things I try when I’m caught up in negative emotions, as I frequently am, is to pause and say to myself, “It was a dark and stormy night.” This sets the stage for the high drama of my thinking mind, and I continue to describe my situation, only in the third person (and appropriating the corny Bulwer-Lytton style prose):

It was a dark and stormy night. She sank in a bog of depression, wishing she had never been born. I’m a failure, she thought, I’ve never accomplished anything, I live in a run-down neighborhood, the people at work hate me. She cast about for someone, something to blame: fate, her husband, her sister, her parents, her dogs. Yes, even the dogs, she realized with a pang. I can’t take them anywhere.

And so forth. Sometimes this is just the thing to get me the remove I need when I’m spinning down, down, down. It exposes the thoughts for what they are–just thoughts–and brings some humor to the situation.

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.

The holiday weekend comes and I am so excited. Looking forward in an unZen way. So I remind myself to be here now and I’m awaren of the slight fizziness in my abdomen as if there were champagne in there. I’m aware of expectations: that I will have time, large luxurious swathes of time. Of course there aren’t enough hours for the reading and movie watching and yoga and cooking and and writing and  sleeping in and organizing that I keep adding to the list.

So just for now I will be aware of this train ride I’m actually on. It smells like dry cleaner fluid and shampoo in here. The soft murmurs are punctuated gently by the futuristic swooshing of the tracks and the rude too-loud staticky blur of the conductor announcing the next stop. It is loving kindness day so I breathe the scattered riders in. May they be healed in their difficulties. May they extend loving kindness to others.

I practice with anger in all of its guises. I have the habit of thinking that anger looks like rage most of the time, but it is also manifests in annoyance, impatience, irritation, and a hundred other ways.

One of my habits is to be irritated, especially with my husband. He does not exhibit this particular habit, and, after experiencing it from another person at work, I can’t tell you how glad I am he doesn’t. And how determined I am to stop this behavior in myself.

I have a new job, and part of any new job is asking questions. It’s a slightly uncomfortable place to be—everyone has their deadlines, and stopping to answer a question is probably a pain in the neck. But it’s in their best interest that I get the right answer. This is especially true in Jason’s case. He’s the bookkeeper at the agency, and a lot of the things I will be doing—hiring, ordering, managing vendors and freelancers—will intersect with his work. If I do them incorrectly, it will make extra work for Jason as well as for me and add to confusion. And nowhere is any of this information written down—it’s all in Jason’s head.

I’ve already had some problems with Jason. He acts put out when I ask him a question, and then he gets furious when I try to do it without asking a question and make a mistake. He’s condescending, judgemental, and he complains without stop. Yesterday when I asked if now was a convenient time to ask a question about creating a purchase order, he first melodramatically flinched as if I’d hit him, and then cut me off mid-sentence, “Just ask the damn question!” I nearly laughed out loud.

Oh yes, one more thing: I sit next to Jason.

This is a wonderful place to work. Everyone—except Jason—is friendly, good at their jobs, and gets along well. Jason is the loneliest person, and not because of lack of trying on other people’s parts. Most of the time people ignore him, and maybe that’s what he wants. Because there is certainly nothing in his body language—or his verbal language—that welcomes anyone. He successfully keeps the world away, and finds ample evidence that the world is a dangerous, ugly place. Just look at the way people treat him!

And, of course, I recognize myself in him. I wonder if I, too, use my impatience and irritation to avoid intimacy, to keep my husband away. Not all the time, but when I’m afraid of something.

We are moving to a larger office space, and I think I will be able to decide where my desk will be situated. I was looking forward to the move with relief, thinking I could move away from Jason and be free of his unhealthy miasma. But maybe Jason is my Bengali tea boy. Maybe I will learn more if I stay near him, practice observation and opening my heart. Perhaps I will gain compassion for him. And for me?

The 2010 Santa Rosa Zen Group sesshin was last weekend and I’d like to record some thoughts, and also to see if I can get attendees experiences, and suggestions for next year in the comments.

I’ve received lots of gratitude in e-mails and I’d like to thank everyone for their kind words. But in all honesty, I did not do that much. We were a team and everyone contributed time and talent and good-humor. The fact that most attendees were not aware of the efforts of these people is a tribute to their quiet selflessness. I would like to recognize some of them:

Tenzo: This is the hardest job, involving lots of people and stuff, and also involving food, which everyone has opinions about. Claudia did an amazing job. And that stew was the best sesshin stew I’ve ever had.

Liaison with the Angela Center: How does Shiva do it? Smiling away as I bark orders at her. She negotiated money-saving deals that made this sesshin possible, and made sure that everyone on both sides felt well taken care of, before, during, and after the process.

Head Server: Things were changing right down to the last minute, and Barbara was flexibility and intrepidity in motion. Wasn’t it neat the way the meal service felt smooth and inevitable?

Altar Tender: Beautiful, simple, and thoughtful. Made me think, “Nothing added.” Patrick Dwyer also managed all the money with aplomb in the face of challenges.

Jisha: As always, Diane’s sweet voice announcing the call for daisan is one of the memories I carry with me.

Head Monitor: In spite of a pulled muscle that would have caused me to take the day off, Shayna soldiered on, keeping a discerning, unfocused and benevolent eye on us all.

Set Up and Clean Up Leader: It looked fast and easy, but I think Sharon was aware and thoughtful.

Snack Table Manager: Thank you, Susan, for fighting the good fight for the jelly.

Last Day Lunch Preparers: More flexibility, lots of practice.

Work Leader: Many variables were considered, constant changes required attention. Patrick Wylie had lots of opportunity to practice with impermanence.

Timekeeper: I didn’t notice a single mistake. Annie’s bell ringing was clear and beautifully modulated.

Oryoki Coordinator:  This job got bigger this sesshin. Ellen managed the rentals and purchases, giving the orientation, and being the expert on meal practice. Grace in the face of the unexpected.

Choppers, Dishwashers, Linen Providers: Thank you all for your care.

Also, my gratitude to the San Diego contingent. Because you were there, our sesshin was a little more formal, more strict, and that gave us all a better container for practice.

To those of you who came from far away, geographically and experientially, you helped me to see the forms of our practice in a new light, with a beginner’s mind.

And, of course, I feel deep gratitude toward our teachers, who are always a lesson in loving-kindness.

As you can see, it takes a Zen group to throw a sesshin!

A couple notes:

Those of you who had instruction sheets from me for your roles, please update them with our sesshin-specific instructions and send them to me, and I will incorporate them into a folder for next year.

We are missing one zabuton (sitting mat). If anyone accidentally took an extra home, please let me know.

We have an extra zafu (sitting pillow). Please let me know if you are missing one.

Please write any thoughts you have about this sesshin—or ideas for future ones—in the comment section below. To use the comment section, you need only to put your name and your email address. You can actually comment anonymously, if you find that necessary.

Also, some people have expressed an interest in having a copy of the Readings booklet that Ann Chung created. I don’t have anymore printed versions, but you can see the digital version here.

In gratitude—

Virginia

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.

my cherished i.d.:
a human non sequitur
what follows from this?

Who’s a martyr – moi?
(throws the chair across the room)
I feel better now