Before speaking

"Before speaking, recognize what motivates your words." -Lama Surya Das

When I was in college, I worked on a project with another student and one of my Religious Studies professors on faith development. We did in-depth interviews with people to discuss their faith journey. James Fowler's Stages of Faith informed the project, and, honestly, the book was one that helped me accept my own spiritual journey as valid and beautiful even though it differed from what was expected of me by my family.

That's not what I'm thinking about today though.

I'm thinking about one of the meetings we had during that project. The professor said to me, "What do you think, Bonnie? I like the way your mind works." I don't remember what I said, but I know what I wish I would have said.

I wish I would have said, "That's because I only talk when I have something to say." 

I didn't. I felt pressured into speaking before I was ready, wanting to live up to some unexplained and possibly nonexistent expectation of one of my favorite professors. 

The truth is, as a very introverted person, there's a lot of thinking that happens before most of my speech. Many, many, many times I think of the right thing to say--the thing that feels right in my mind--and the conversation has already moved on to something else.  That's frustrating, but I think I'd rather have that than my life filled with inane chatter.

More than one person has suggested I become a counselor, typically after dumping their problems in a verbal avalanche. I think that sometimes people like to confide in me because I listen to them. It's not that I have some sort of powerful insight that puts all their problems in perspective; it's that I am able to be present in their presence and hear what they're saying without saying much at all back. I'm a sounding board, and that allows them to figure things out themselves.

In high school, when I would struggle with homework (usually math), Mom would sometimes tell me to explain it to her. I thought this was stupid. Obviously I couldn't explain it to her. I needed someone to explain it to me. But, often, it worked. In explaining it to someone else, in talking it out, the things I didn't understand became things I did. She wasn't able to help me with calculus, but she helped me with calculus.

I write this as a reminder to myself. It's okay to be quiet. It's best to listen and only speak when I have something to say. Consider my motivation and whether what I say will help, hurt, or just fill the world with distracting noise. Intention.

Protection

You can protect yourself from misfortunes sent by Heaven,

not from misfortunes that you bring on yourself.

-Zen practice

My Buddhist tear-off calendar recently displayed the above quote. I kept it on my desk for a few days, then recycled it. This morning, I dug it out of the recycling bin.

Today, I know that my brain is creating problems that don't exist, judging people who need to be shown grace (including myself), and generally being a jerk.

I haven't had much success getting my internal self turned around so far today, but I am going to reread that quote throughout the day and remind myself how much power I have over my own experience. And when negative thoughts arise, I'm going to do my best to acknowledge them, let them go, and move on.

So say we all.

Peculiar Nature

It's the time of year when I do my best to remain sane at work, and, as such, I don't have a lot of energy for other stuff. Pardon the radio silence.

I keep a little tear-off calendar on my desk with Buddhist quotes on it. Today's:

Each one has a special nature peculiar to herself which she must follow and through which she will find her way to freedom.*

                                                                           -Swami Vivekananda

I love it. What makes us unique and weird is what creates our path. Embrace your peculiar nature.

Rock on, weirdos.

*I changed the quote from masculine to feminine language. 

I Do Not Think That Means What You Think That It Means

I love my local library with my entire being. I grew up in a small town back in the day before interlibrary loans were very prevalent. We had a small library. You found a book on the shelves and you liked it.

Now I live in a city. A city with lots of books! And movies! And the ability to make suggestions for purchase! 

The world is at my fingertips. I just request something and, like magic, it shows up at my local library for me to pick up. You do not understand how exciting this is until you've lived years and years in a small town.*

Today I searched for the book Zen Confidential: Confessions of a Wayward Monk. The search yielded two results. One was the book I wanted.

The second was the fifth season of Deadliest Catch.

No system is perfect.

*With a great library and great librarians, don't get me wrong. They just don't have the resources that cities do.

Gardening Meditation

I've never been very good at sitting-on-the-cushion meditation. I have a hard time getting my mind to be still.

A goal of mine is to try to do whatever task I'm doing with mindfulness. When I'm working on payroll, I'm only working on payroll. I'm not simultaneously trying to plan my weekend. When I'm knitting, I'm just knitting, not thinking about the other things that need to get done. 

I'm not particularly good at this, but it's a goal to keep working toward.

I find that doing something physical sometimes is enough to keep the mind focused on the task at hand.  I felt it yesterday when I was doing some gardening. When I was planting tomatoes, I was just planting tomatoes. When I was arranging the planter, I was just arranging the planter.

It felt like grace.

Because I'll want to know later:
Perilla frutescens (Magellanica Perilla)
Solenostemon scutellarioides (Coleus Vino)
2 Petunia hybrid (Supertunia Raspberry blast) 
Euphorbia graminea (Diamond Frost)
Ipomoea batatas ('Sweet Caroline Sweetheart Light Green' Sweet Potato Vine)

The Buddha, The Indigo Girls, and Me

I posted a bumper sticker on Facebook (I know. I don’t want to talk about it.) that said, “Obama is not a foreign born, brown-skinned, anti-war socialist that gives away healthcare. You’re thinking of Jesus.” It says something about me that I don’t even think about this being particularly inciteful (or insightful, actually). It seems very obvious to me and not something that would make people angry unless they have a gun rack in their car and an “In God We Trust” license plate.*

Well, you might not be surprised to learn that it is not obvious to everyone. I received one comment from someone who was a Religious Studies student with me during undergrad. I liked him as a person a lot. Since graduation, I’ve shot off to the left while he’s gone to the right.

The frustrating thing for me is that I know he takes religion seriously. He thinks about it critically, or he used to, anyway. I can’t write him off as someone whose only religious education comes from Sunday School. (How many people did I just piss off?)

I was trying to figure out if I should respond and how to do that in a way that wouldn't become an exchange of zingers.**

I was thinking that there had to be a healthy way to process this mentally. 

Oh, right. There is. In fact, I find it such a helpful way to process things that I had a lotus flower tattooed on my arm to remind me of it.

The Four Noble Truths

In life, there is suffering.

Suffering stems from craving and desire.

If we can end craving and desire, we can end our suffering.

The way to do this is the Eightfold Path.

When I actually knew this person, I liked him. I want him to think like I do. It hurts me that he doesn’t. The problem isn’t him. The problem is that I want him to be someone other than he is.  If I can accept him in his perhaps right-of-center Roman Catholic-ness, my suffering ends. I don’t have to change him. I don’t have to challenge him. I just have to acknowledge that we feel very differently and that is okay.

All this was rattling around my head while I was knitting at lunch. I was listening to the Indigo Girls, as I do, and

I have no need for anger with intimate strangers, and I got nothing to hide.***

Isn’t that part of it, if I’m honest? I’ve become someone quite different from who I was when I was in college, although the journey toward Liberaldom certainly started during undergrad. Even though I’m nearly always okay with myself, sometimes a desire for acceptance creeps up.

My goal is to acknowledge those feelings and let them go.

Secret bodhisattvas are everywhere. Even, apparently, on Facebook.

*Indiana has these plates. It fills me with rage. We’re a country built on separation of church and state.

**Zingers are tempting. My first zinger would have been, "It's pretty clear from the book of Acts that the Early Church was more socialist than Cuba."

***from “Reunion”

Today I Forgot

Today I forgot that I liked my job.

I forgot that the majority of people are doing the best they can, and it's not worth worrying about the rest.

I forgot that doing things well is not a burden.

I forgot that everything is an opportunity for spiritual practice, whether I recognize it or not.

I forgot that nasty people are secret bodhisattvas.*

I forgot that I'm helping people in their spiritual path through the mundane tasks I'm doing, and that makes them sacred.

I forgot that ultimately it doesn't matter if people know I'm right. 

I forgot that it doesn't matter if I'm right at all.

I forgot to give people grace.

I forgot to give myself grace.

I will try again tomorrow.

*Read books by Geri Larkin for more.

Paradox

I read something yesterday that brought to mind an incident that happened while I was at seminary.

September, 2002.  A group of Tibetan Buddhist monks were visiting the city, and part of their visit included the construction of a sand mandala of peace.  The sand mandala is an intricate design made of colored sand, painstakingly placed into patterns.  They were scheduled to finish it in the afternoon.

Image from http://www.rangzen.org/mandala.htm [Accessed 17 September 2010]  

At that point in my life, I didn't know much about Buddhism.  I was a religious studies major in college and went to seminary to get my master's in theological studies.  I interned at the Islamic Society of North America during the January term of my junior year and at a conservative-reconstructionist synagogue the summer between my junior and senior years.  I was fairly well-versed with Western religions, but, like most of us, knew very little about Eastern ones.  

I remember sitting on the floor, wearing a skirt because I'd been at work.  I remember the discomfort of trying to find a way to sit without either flashing the world or sitting on my clunky heeled dress shoes.  I ended up sitting with the heels stabbing me in the bum, trying not to squirm in the midst of all that calm.  I remember watching a few people meditating in their comfortable flowing pants and shirts--smart clothing choices for that environment.  I tried not to feel out of place and failed, even though it was an event in my seminary, a place in which I felt very much at home.  I realize now that nobody cared how I sat or what I knew about Buddhism.  All of us were welcome to experience the blessing of that time and space.  It's something I often forget.

The completion of the mandala was scheduled for 4:00, but the monks weren't ready.  There was a mistake, a tiny portion where the sand wasn't perfectly laid out, and they carefully repaired it until it was perfect.

Some chanting, some praying, some admiring of the beauty of the mandala.

Then the monks took paintbrushes and ran it through the mandala, destroying it.  I knew it was going to happen, but it made my breath catch and part of me wanted to look away.

The image of that moment has stayed with me.  To labor over something so minute, so intricate, so beautiful, and then to destroy it with a deliberate stroke of a paintbrush--it is at once beautiful and tragic.*

The destruction of the mandala was an illustration of the impermanence of everything.  Another way Buddhists teach impermanence is to encourage practitioners to meditate on the mental image of yourself dead, body rotting.  It sounds grotesque, but it's forces you to realize that all this importance you impart to your body is misdirected.  This body is going to become plant food, even though we try to fill it with chemicals and enclose it in vaults to keep that from happening.

The monks then gave a small amount of the colored sand to anyone who wanted some.  The sand was a blessing.  The remainder of the sand was then poured into a waterway (the canal, for us) to travel through the water and bring blessing to the city.

In my head, they had small baggies for us, but they ran out.  In any case, I was searching through my purse trying to find something to carry the sand.  The ceremony had impacted me, and I wanted something to remember it.

And then, I found it.  It was to become a metaphor for my life:

A plastic Tums container that had a partially-eaten roll of Tums inside.  I removed the antacids, cupped the container in my hands, covering the words, and took it up to the monks to have it filled.

For the last eight years, that Tums container has been a reminder to me.  We all live in the midst of paradox--stress and calm, confusion and wisdom, muddy and clear.  Antacids and sacred sand.

It's not a bad way to live.

*I've thought about knitting something beautiful and then ripping it out as a spiritual exercise.  Thus far, I've not found the umph to do it.

Happy Birthday, Buddha

In all east Asian countries except Japan, the Buddha's birthday is celebrated on the 8th day of the 4th month in the Chinese lunar calendar. That date is May 21 in 2010.

Happy birthday, big guy.

Buddhism has Four Noble Truths:

1. Life is characterized by suffering.

2. Our suffering is a result of craving and desiring.

3. If we can stop our craving and desiring, we can stop our suffering.

4. The way to do this is the Eightfold Path: right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right awareness, right concentration, right thought, and right understanding.

The Eightfold Path is like spokes on a wheel. It doesn't matter which spoke you focus on because it all leads to the same center. The center is enlightenment. So, don't get freaked out by all the parts of the Eightfold Path. Just pick one and focus on that. That will make it easier for the others to fall into place.

Buddhism says that bad stuff happens. We can control how the bad stuff impacts us personally. Buddhism doesn't say that we'll never get crapped on if we meditate every day. Crap still happens. We're just better able to handle it. We see it for what it is, and then we let it go.

I'm not very good with letting go. I'm not very good with seeing things for what they are and not making them bigger. But I want to be.

There's nothing about Buddhism that precludes you from being a Christian or a Jew or a Hindu. Buddhism is a path, a way of seeing the world; it's not a religion with a God to worship. The Buddha isn't God, and he never claimed to be.

I come to Buddhism as a liberal Protestant who majored in Religious Studies and interned at both an Islamic Center and a synagogue, who went to seminary and specialized in interfaith dialogue, who wrote her master's thesis on the subject of women in Buddhism, who used to work in a UU church and now works in a synagogue.

I go to church. I wear a Buddha necklace. There is no conflict there. God is bigger than the boxes we hold up to the sky.*

I believe that I will be a better person if I can learn to sit, to breathe, to fight my tendencies to intellectualize everything, to open myself up to whatever is there besides the squirrel-like chattering in my head. I have much work to do before I can sit for five minutes without looking at my watch, but Judaism helps me here: "You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it." (Pirke Avot)

Happy birthday, Buddha. Thanks for showing me a way to be. I'll keep working on it.

*God is also bigger than the bogeyman. I learned that from the VeggieTales.

Report from Day 1 of VT Challenge

Monday was the first day of my slightly-altered challenge based on the one put forth by Vegetarian Times. I packed my lunch and jogged with Emily after work, so lunch and exercise were handled. The third piece is meditation.

Before I ate lunch, I walked toward the chapel for my meditation break. The kindergarten class were dressed in their graduation robes and were singing a song about being all they could be. I walked past the chapel and toward the sanctuary, noting how lucky I was to work at a place with both a chapel and a sanctuary. Seriously, who has that luxury?

I picked a seat in the sanctuary, set my watch for five minutes, closed my eyes and breathed.

The sunlight through the window is bright. Isn't that weird? My eyes are closed, but the light is really bright.

Breathe.

Remember the first time you saw the Torah scroll in the stained glass? It's like one of those 3-D pictures.

Breathe.

Lynn suggested inhaling while counting to seven, holding for three, exhaling for seven, holding for three. I'll try that.

Breathe.

Good lord! That's not nearly enough oxygen! Didn't she say people with high blood pressure shouldn't do that? Do I have high blood pressure? I don't have high blood pressure. Wait. I'm supposed to be breathing.

Breathe.

Does the sanctuary smell funny? I think it smells a little funny. Wonder what that is.

Breathe.

I wonder how I'll write about this.

Breathe.

I wonder why I'm thinking about writing about an experience rather than allowing myself to experience the experience. That's messed up.

Breathe.

I wonder how long it's been? [Open eyes, glance at watch] ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Three minutes?!

Breathe.

I'm not happy with my time spent at work. This computer crap is hard, and there's no one to help me. That makes me want to avoid studying. I don't feel like I'm putting in an honest day's work. Now I'm sad.

Breathe.

I wonder how my friend who had surgery today is doing.

Breathe.

Does sending positive energy toward someone count as meditation? No. They're both good, but they're not the same. I should make time for both.

Breathe.

I wonder why I always think of God as male when I'm here. Do I feel this way in all sanctuaries, or just this one?

Breathe.

Maybe I should think about Queen Titania* beside me. I bet she'd be an awesome meditator.

Breathe.

Then again, God doesn't need to meditate, so that kind of breaks down.

Breathe.

You know, even if Titania was beside me, I bet I'd be focused on her and not on meditating. I suck at this.

Breathe.

I look at my watch. 4:57, 4:58, 4:59, 5:00.

Sigh. I'll try again today.

*Queen Titania is a character from James Christensen's Voyage of the Bassett, and she's the image I use to counterbalance the male image I have of God. It's not important that you understand this.

Blood Orange

The universe has been trying to get me down.

I'm knitting a sweater. It's beautiful. I have most of the knitting done--just the bottom band, button band, and collar left. And it's radically too large. I'm still not sure what's going to happen to it. Right now it's in time out--the second time for this sweater, let it be known--until I figure out what to do next.

I had my follow-up appointment with the surgeon this morning, who said that my incisions look fine. This is good, but I really intensely dislike going to the doctor and therefore got myself all whooped up about it for no real rational reason. As an added bonus, then I got whooped up at myself for being irrationally whooped up, sending me into a cycle of whooped-upness.

The surgeon told me at my initial appointment that he wanted me to have an endoscopy done to make sure my esophagus wasn't damaged from the years I've been fighting GERD and taking acid-reducers/blockers. Today I scheduled the endoscopy for May 30 because I'll be off work. I guess that's a benefit of being a nonJew working at a synagogue: I can schedule endoscopies for Pesach because I have the day off. I don't want to have an endoscopy. I don't want to be made loopy and not be in control. Control is good. No control is bad.

At work, the database crashed in a spectacular and fire-filled manner.* I spent a long time trying to find the corrupt records and reconnect the front and back ends all whilst muttering, "Master's degree in THEOLOGICAL STUDIES, fortheloveofallthatisholy. No technology degree. Computers run by black magic. How come nobody ever asks me about women in Buddhism? THESIS on women in Buddhism. No thesis on networks." The real bitch of this is that, although I did fix the corrupt records and got us up and running, the underlying problem of why we lost the connection in the first place hasn't been fixed or even identified. And I don't know how.**

I ate lunch at my desk while sifting through thousands of records in various tables. It was one of those lunches where you don't really remember eating and so your body spends the rest of the afternoon telling you you're hungry while you pointlessly try to remind it of what it ate for lunch.

However, there are some good spots I would do well to remember:

• I ate a blood orange. I find them incongruous and intriguing. It amuses me how much eating an orange that is not orange messes with my head. I'm looking forward to putting the peel in my compost bin. I feel it adds a bit of je ne sais quoi to my compost.***

• We're grilling out for dinner, and I'm going to try to grill pears. I love grilled food. I love pears. I sense something good coming out of this experience.

• The garden center I like has giant bags of vermiculite, which I needed to find for my Gardening Plan. (Dudes, much, much more about that later, I assure you.) I've read that people have had problems finding it, and I found it on my first try. It's also under $30, which feels good.

• I had a giant frozen coffee beverage after my doctor's appointment. It was delicious.

It's just one of those days on which I have to work hard to remind myself that the glass is half full. It is, though. Except for the coffee beverage, which is definitely empty.

*Okay, okay. There were no actual flames. It burned up a few hours of my life though. Does that count?

**See aforementioned theological education

***No, I don't really get out much. I'm comfortable with that.

Failure vs. Fear

You remember my friend Lynn. Recently she sent me an e-mail about something she'd read. The author encouraged the reader to complete this sentence:

If I were not afraid, I would....

Lynn initially thought this would be the same thing as answering the question, "What would I do if I knew I could not fail?" That's inscribed on a paperweight I own and has led me to do some interesting things*.

However, what she found was that her answers were different depending on which question she asked herself. The things she was afraid of were not necessarily the things she would do if she knew she could not fail.

I made my own lists, and my lists were different as well.

This idea of what I would do if I were unafraid is still new for me, but it's been persistently rattling around since Lynn brought it up. I wanted to throw it out into the universe and see if anyone else was interested in making his/her own list. You might find it interesting, and you might not. I, for one, think this is going to lead me somewhere new.

*I have made absolutely no progress on the meditating, by the way. It's still on my list.

Meditating with the Buddha

Most of you know I have a thing for Buddhism. I'm a Protestant who works at a synagogue, but I love me some Buddhism. I wrote my master's thesis about the role of women in Buddhism, and I find the Eightfold Path the smartest way to center my life. This is not in conflict with my other religious beliefs, and I could bore you to tears with why I believe this to be the case. Be glad I'm not doing that today.

Buddhism makes a big deal of being in the moment. Meditation is not described as connecting to a Higher Power. It's not prayer. It's not waiting for divine intervention.

It's sitting. And breathing. That's it.

Except I find it impossible to do. Sit. Breathe. When thoughts enter your head, acknowledge them and then let them float by without judging them.

Buddhism is practice. It's not a religion; it's a practice. Can't meditate? That's okay. Just practice. Practice doesn't imply that you have it figured out; it just implies that you're attempting something. Success isn't really the issue.

My favorite Buddhist writes about being told by her teacher that he believed she had approximately 10,000 more lifetimes before she reached Enlightenment. There was no pressure; she had lots of time to figure things out. I have time.

All of life is practice.

Sit. Breathe.