Thursday, December 23, 2010

Some poetry by T.S.Eliot I'm grateful I found


I'm sitting at home, sick as a dog,  feeling sorry for myself and Dorothy who has to put up with my sniffling and sniveling. I tried to go into work yesterday so I wouldn't get too far behind but I felt like an aching zombie inconsiderately exposing the still living to bad juju.  Besides that, my daughter Katie and her husband, Brian,  have left on their travels abroad.  They'll be gone at least six months and possibly a lot longer.  I'm thrilled for them but letting go is tough.  (Katie's keeping a blog, Leap and the Net Will Appear  where you can keep track of their exploits.)

So in this sick, disassociated, depressed frame of mind I came upon some poetry which helped me move closer to the positive side of the scale..  I'm grateful I found it and feel compelled to share it with my faithful readers.

The following are excerpts are from East Coker, one of Four Quartets by T.S. Eliot.  He captures much of what I've been trying to say in this blog over the past month or so.  I find it exciting to find poetry that speaks so directly to me.  


I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

............And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate,
With shabby equipment always deteriorating
In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what there is to conquer
By strength and submission, has already been discovered
Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot hope
To emulate - but there is no competition -
There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.


Home is where one starts from. As we grow older
the world becomes stranger, the pattern more complicated
Of dead and living. Not the intense moment
Isolated, with no before and after,
But a lifetime burning in every moment
And not the lifetime of one man only
But of old stones that cannot be deciphered.
There is a time for the evening under starlight,
A time for the evening under lamplight
(The evening with the photograph album).
Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.
Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.


Thank you Mr. Eliot.  The Wikipedia entry says that he considered the Four Quartets his greatest work and that it is what led to him being awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

"The secret voices of the innermost truth"

The title of this post, which comes from the quote from Siddhartha in my last posting, is an intentional pushing on the boundary of what I think I should try to write about. In other words, "who am I to write about the "secret voices of the innermost truth?"  and. who am I not to write about it?.  How far should I go in a public forum trying to sort out the mysteries of life and my role in the drama?  I suppose it comes back to goals.  I am not doing this to teach or influence.  I am writing as a process of seeking clarity.  To find out, as Hesse says, what is necessary. For some inexplicable reason I'm finding it easier to examine these things by writing this blog.

But the question of how much I should expose myself to other souls is a significant one.  I have to admit, I love getting comments.  They make me feel less isolated and alone.  But there is always a feeling that I'm dropping my pants in public. That embarrassing feeling probably helps me to not get too personal but I don't like it and wonder how much it is limiting what I could be discovering.

In the last section of Siddhartha, Govinda asks Siddhartha, "Haven't you found certain thoughts, certain insights, which are your own and which help you live?  If you would like to tell me some of these, you would delight my heart."   Siddhartha's replies, "...There have been many thoughts, but it would be hard for me to convey them to you....I have found: wisdom cannot be passed on.  Wisdom which a wise man tries to pass on to someone always sounds like foolishness....knowledge can be conveyed but not wisdom.  It can be found, it can be lived, it is possible to be carried by it, miracles can be performed with it,  but it cannot be expressed in words and thought."   Despite this statement Siddhartha presses on, perhaps trying to explain why words of wisdom become foolishness.

"The opposite of every truth is just as true! That's like this: any truth can only be expressed and put into words when it is one-sided.  Everything is one-sided which can be thought with thoughts and said with words, it's all one-sided, all just one half , all lacks completeness, roundness, oneness....But the world itself, what exists around us and inside of us, is never one-sided....a person is never entirely holy or entirely sinful.  It does really seem like this because we are subject to deception, as if time were something real.  Time is not real, Govinda, I have experienced this often and often again.  And if time is not real, then the gap which seems to be between the world and eternity, between suffering and blissfulness, between evil and good, is also a deception."

So when does foolishness end and truth begin.  The answer becomes,  at the same time.   The fool and the sage are the same.

Vision of faith

I was on  a retreat in a lodge nestled in Ponderosa pine trees outside of  Prescott Arizona in about 1988.  The priest leading the retreat asked us all to lay down on the floor, on our back, and get into a comfortable position using pillows and blankets. He then started a guided meditation asking us to imagine a restful place, etc.  I eventually stopped hearing his words and found myself lost in a corn field.  It must have been late summer because the stalks seemed twice as tall as me.  Initially I felt fairly calm. Isn't this interesting.  Nothing but cornstalks everywhere I looked.  Then I realized I had no idea where I was and no idea what direction to move.  This grew into sheer panic.  Pure fear.  Then it happened. An event which is in many ways beyond words but still fills my heart.  I looked up and exactly the same moment I was looking down at myself. Zap! I was floating above the cornfield and my eyes locked with the eyes of the small lost boy I saw below. A boy who was me at about the age of eight. At the same time I was the boy below looking up at the floating boy in the air.  We were the same but separated.  There was instant peace, tranquility, calmness, joy.  From above I could see the way I needed to walk.  I also could see a path beyond the cornfield that led up a mountain with a setting sun behind it.  The boy took a deep breath and walked confidently forward.

This vision remains important to me. It strengthens me. It reminds me that the answer to "what is necessary?" is always waiting inside as long as I don't let fear block out the signal.  It is the inner light of the Quakers, the secret voice of Hesse.  It is real and it is good.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Siddhartha, Hesse and What's Necessary

Herman Hesse was my guru when I was twenty years old.  Maybe he'll be my guru again.

I was standing behind the library at Union College in late 1968 when I met up with Neil Gordan.  We were both seniors but had not really talked since we were freshmen.  He asked me how I was doing and I said not very well.  The Vietnam War  was was raging and leaders were being killed and I was afraid of being drafted and I was depressed and I hadn't been going to classes and hadn't washed or shaved and generally felt lost. He smiled and said read Demian and walked away with a smile on his face.  I'm not sure what the smile meant but perhaps he had an inkling of what I was in for.

I ended up reading the book and not going to class for a week in its aftermath. It had a profound effect on me. It's difficult to understand it's power this far down the road.  I recently tried to reread it and it didn't click at all.  Back in '68 it was a different story. I think it's because gave me a new frame of reference to hang my confused craziness on. His novel depicting Abraxas, a divinity of both good and evil, gave me a rudimentary foundation for looking, again, at spirituality.

 I entered Union as a serious Catholic who vowed not to "lose my faith" among the liberal secularists.  It took about three months. Reading The Martyred by Richard Kim put the biggest nail in the coffin.   It asked a simple question.  How can an all-knowing, all-loving, all-powerful God allow the slaughter of millions of innocents in war? Hmmm. So I ended up in this dead end alley and Herman Hesse helped me begin to find my way out.

As I was saying, maybe he will again.

I'm rereading Siddhartha which appears to be based on Hindu's first three stages of life. (the Wikipedia link is very interesting)  At one point shortly after Siddhartha had met the Buddha and decided not to become a follower he had the following thoughts.

"Both, the thoughts as well as the senses were pretty things, the ultimate meaning was hidden behind both of them, both had to be listened to, both had to be played with, neither had to be scorned nor overestimated, from both the secret voices of the innermost truth had to be attentively perceived.  He wanted to strive for nothing , except for what the voice commanded him to strive for, dwell on nothing, except where the voice would advise him to do so. ...to obey like this, not to an external command, only to the voice, to be ready like this, this was good, this was necessary, nothing else was necessary."


Next post - "Locus of Salvation" or "what I hope works for me when the shit hits the fan."

Saturday, December 11, 2010

James McMurtry

A friend just told me about James McMurtry.  This friend is very political.  I used to be very political (see prior post Faith Revisited).  He especially recommended the song, We Can't Make It Here Anymore.  I reluctantly listened to it.  I've been trying to stay away from political stuff.  I honestly feel I have some mild form of PTSD associated with it.  My stomach knots up and I want to get away.  I tried taking part in a march prior to the Bush invasion of Iraq and I had to leave half way through.  
Listening to this song I had the same stomach tightening sensations but I keep playing it.  McMurtry played last week at the new Helsinki club in Hudson.  I wish I was there.  

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Coming Home

After we moved to Arizona in 1980,  the idea of "home" became a powerful force in my life.   I missed everything about upstate New York.  Birds, trees, flowers, views, the Hudson, rain, family, customs, hills, fishing,  seasons....everything.  I had no idea how connected I was to this part of our planet. I remember watching ET in a Phoenix theater and bawling like a baby when he was trying to call home.

When we would make periodic trips back there was always excitement and satisfaction.  We would arrive at the airport and drive east on Route 7 from Latham towards Troy.   When we crested the hill where the Hudson valley comes into view and you're able to see most of Troy, Watervliet, Cohoes and Green Island I would feel transformed.  The longing for home finally resolved. Very powerful.  This view still moves me when I drive that road.

After ten years of in the desert Dorothy and I decided that we would do whatever was needed so that we could return to the Northeast.  We were finally able to make the move after spending ten more years in Arizona.  Our daughters were fairly well launched,  I was able to find a work as an addiction counselor in Troy, and Dorothy's boss had made arrangements for her to keep her job in Arizona by telecommuting.

Coming back felt completely right.  It did not feel like a retreat but a victory.  We were able to have this great twenty year adventure where our separation from the familiar and predictable gave us the opportunity,  to change, grow and experience well beyond what would have been possible in New York.  We separated ourselves from all the normal pinnings of support and had to survive.  We did survive and in many ways lived a very fulfilling life but the pull of home was always there.

 We've been back nearly twelve years and the thrill of being home isn't gone.  When I tell people we moved back from Arizona they inevitably ask me why the hell I would do that.  This is especially true mid-winter.   I feel it is a great gift to be so grateful to be living here.

I think I'm writing about this because as I approach retirement I feel my life is about to change at a level comparable to the way it was changed when I moved to Arizona.  This move is more about the geography of the heart.

Last night's dream....

Dorothy and I are driving a rural road I take a side dirt road that is wet from an ongoing rain. After awhile we go down a fairly steep hill and when I get to the bottom I become worried that the car might not be able to get back up the muddy hill.  I turned the car around and hit the gas trying to get momentum to help the climb.  I almost made it to the top but the wheels started spinning in the mud and I had to back down.  At the bottom there was a  river that was rising above its banks and coming close to the road.   We found a seedy looking bed and breakfast/boarding house that stood by itself along the road.  We got a room and I went out for a walk in the rain.  I noticed that the river was higher and worried about Dorothy being in a house that might get washed away.  I walked into a village where all the buildings were very ramshackle and built so that there was no space between them.  Most were one story high and looked deserted, almost like the set of an old western movie.  I heard the crack of pool balls and noticed a building with it's front open to the air and people inside playing pool.  I went in and people ignored me. I went up to one person and tried to ask him if there was any other way out of town than the hill.  He raised his hand as if to signal me that that topic was off limits. Most of the people looked dim witted and had bad teeth.  I was more than an outsider, I felt mostly like a transparent observer.  There was a young man who sat at a table playing the card game Hearts with a few of the locals.  He was well dressed, had good teeth and looked completely comfortable and at peace. I envied him.  I somehow was able to get some information about an old woman who helped people find a way out that didn't involve going up the hill but it was all very vague.  I looked out from the pool hall and noticed a beat up old car, obviously full of locals, speeding up the hill.  It lurched and looked like it was going to get stuck but finally made it to the top and I could hear people in the car cheering.   Someone then told me there was a very narrow part of the road where you could get traction to make it to the top but it was hard to find.   Then I woke up.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Hobbit or Hermit?

All of this soul searching is about pending retirement.  My life is about to change big time.  I'm trying to find a bridge across the chasm.  An avenue to the next stage.  The feelings I have are conflictive.  Hope and fear mainly.  I feel like I'm on a hobbit like quest with goblins ready to jump out at me. I'm energized by the beauty and magic of Rivendell (my spiritual life) and the memory of the Shire (gratitude for the blessings of my life, especially family) but Mt. Doom  is always visible in the distance. The role of family, friends, and fellow travelers is yet to be revealed.


Hindu tradition speaks of the four stages of life. 


 I appear to be entering the third stage which is described as

Vanaprastha - The Hermit in Retreat
This stage of a man begins when his duty as a householder comes to an end; He has become a grandfather, his children are grown up, and have established lives of their own. At this age, he should renounce all physical, material and sexual pleasures, retire from his social and professional life, leave his home, and  go to live in a forest hut, spending his time in prayers.  He is allowed to take his wife along, but is supposed to maintain little contact with the family.

Hermit or Hobbit? Not sure.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

Acting "as if" and getting physical

I'm reading Going the Distance - one man's journey to the end of his life by George Sheehan M.D.  George Sheehan was the "philosopher king" of runner's and I read many of his columns and books when I was deeply involved in running during the 1980's.  In this book he documents his struggle to find peace after being diagnosed with prostate cancer.  He died in 1993.   I'm about two thirds through the book and can't resist sharing some of his writing with you.  The following is an extended passage from pages 96 and 97 of the book.  


 "William James pointed out in the Varieties of Religious Experience that these spiritual experiences have little to do with dogma or theology.  The individual in the private reaches of the soul discovers a means to contact an all-good and all-powerful force and is thereby "saved."


This salvation (which comes from the Latin root salvus, meaning "safe,healthy") is accompanied by an "assurance state" --the feeling that you are now whole and healed.


At first such epiphanies would appear to be gifts.  They seem spontaneous and not willed. James would have none of that. Man is incurably religious, he said, and religion is our most important function.  We can improve our spiritual health in much the way we improve our physical health -- we must develop the dedication and discipline to do our spiritual exercises and enhance our spiritual strength.


In seeking relatively simple ways to enhance spiritual health we can turn again to James for an answer. For him, action and feeling went together; and by regulating action, which is under the direct control of the will, we can indirectly control feeling, which is not. Therefore to be cheerful, we must act and speak cheerfully. To feel brave, act as if we were brave."


Besides "acting as if" Sheehan cites another James suggestion.


"William James in the Gospel of Relaxation writes of 'that blessed internal peace and confidence that wells up from every part of the body of the muscularly well-trained beings and soaks the indwelling soul of him with satisfaction.'  James said that this was an element of spiritual hygiene that should not be underestimated." ( The link for Gospel of Relaxation provides the full text of the essay and is interesting reading)


I've clearly been doing some backsliding on my commitment to keep this the Gospel according to Ferd. There is no link for this....yet.  :)


By the way, while I'm off the reservation, I'd like to recommend 

Is Religion 'Built Upon Lies'? Best-selling atheist Sam Harris and pro-religion blogger Andrew Sullivan debate God, faith, and fundamentalism.


Interesting reading from BeliefNet  with themes that intersect some of the ideas the have been surfacing in this blog.   I just read that it's not kosher to delete sections from previously posted blog entries.  That it's better to use the strike through tool.  I guess I understand the reasoning here but I'm still working on it.  In any case after revisiting the Harris/Sullivan debate I'm disinclined to recommend it.   I now find their very long, sometimes brilliant, give-and-take too intellectual, defensive and, perhaps, self-serving.  And it's just not where I'm at. 

















Saturday, November 27, 2010

Faith revisited again

I keep riding this horse because for me, at this point in my life, it's the crux of the matter. I am looking for patterns of past thinking and behaviors which will help me approach the future with more skill, wisdom and resolve.

In my last post I noted that some of the happiest times in my life was when I was deeply involved in a cause or a project.  Something I could lose myself in.  (How does this jive with the loss of self goal of Buddhism and meditation?)  I don't want the mistakes I made in obsessive involvement repeat themselves by me losing myself on some spiritual path. This aversion to single minded commitment is reinforced by my conviction most of the evil in the world is the work of true believers.  But you're either on the bus or off the bus. Right?

This is difficult.  I want salvation but what price am I willing to pay. There is a part of me that has a strong desire to become deeply involved in Buddhist practice.  To go to  a retreat center and spend months in deep meditation.  Will I lose myself or find where I really reside?


I will soon no longer have a job.  I will wake each day and have to decide how to spend my time.    I don't want want to fade away but I want to be at peace. I want to feel as alive, awake and connected as possible but I don't want this desire to be twisted either by being mindlessly busy to fend off emptiness or by locking myself away in a monastery   So I want the perfect balance between contemplation and engagement, being and doing, having and letting go, stimulation and calmness, attachment and non-atttachment, belief and skepticism.  The Middle Way?  The Golden Mean?  Mindfulness/paying attention and acceptance may be the best operating principles. Easier said than done.  And what if it's the wrong choice.  Second chances may be running out. 





Monday, November 22, 2010

Faith revisited

So I was talking about faith before I got interrupted by life.

By the way, I bit the bullet last week and applied for Social Security. I should start receiving my monthly "award" in January or February. I don't know if I'm ready for this. Last Thursday I got a follow-up call from Social Security asking me if it was indeed true that I made $600 in 1992 from the Arizona Institute for Peace Education and Research. Weird and a bit disconcerting. Of all the things to ask me why would it be that? Maybe it was the feds checking out if I was a national security threat. Creepy

Faith. For me there are two distinct versions.

There is the day-to-day trust that I have in the people and things I interact with and there is a deeper faith that is the keystone of my spiritual life.

I have faith that people and things will respond in a certain way based on experience and information. Faith that the plane will get off the ground, that the traffic light is working, that my friend will meet me as planned. Without it I'm paralyzed. Stuck in my tracks. In my work as an addiction counselor I've come to understand better that there is a wide spectrum of how much faith/trust people can muster as they try to "live life on life's terms." Many people I work with have been deeply damaged by betrayal and/or abandonment early in life and this has made it difficult for them to trust, have faith in anyone or anything.

Last week I wrote the word "love" on the white board and asked a group to talk about what the word meant to them. I watched several people literally shrink in their seats. Their body and face contracting into high defense. One had the courage to say how love did nothing but frighten him and he wanted nothing to do with it. This man, a victim of childhood abuse, said everyone he has ever loved...parents, wives and girlfriends, have all ended up hurting him. Love stinks. Ironically this man has made great progress in treatment. He has remained abstinent, developed sober support, found a job, stabilized relationships and kept his probation officer happy. I think much of this positive response is because he was asked to engage in a program with a clear structure and means to hold him accountable. Concrete not abstract. He was not asked to believe or trust in anything. He was asked to perform or there would be consequences. Few gray areas. Black and white.

I think the point I'm meandering around is that I believe the success in development of a deeper spiritual life is strongly related to our ability to trust. To have faith. (Abraham Maslow and Eric Erikson fit in here but I'm not going to go down that road. I'm going to try to keep this the gospel according to Ferd)

So if I expand this theory on one end of the spectrum you have people who are so damaged they have very little trust anyone or anything. These individuals often learn to deal with life in twisted ways and end up with diagnosable personality disorders. My assumption is it would be very difficult for these folks to have any kind of spiritual life. Faith is an enemy.

So who's on the other end. The enlightened or the hoodwinked? I guess I'd go with the hoodwinked. Blind faithers. Fundamentalists. Bible thumpers. Islamic terrorists. Republicans. Okay, some Republicans and some Democrats. The common denominator is purism. People who believe so strongly in a vision/cause/ideology/religion that they are blinded by the light.

This is getting interesting. I think I'm getting somewhere but it's not where I thought I was going. I'm about to completely reverse my theory. My original thinking was a linear spectrum with those incapable of trust and spiritual development on one end and the other end populated by trustful souls who have a rich spiritual life. By writing the above I'm seeing that its more of a circle or like a dog chasing it's tail. Both ends share the same defect. How they live is mainly determined by external forces. They have lost their autonomy and, perhaps, much of their humanity. They are more defined by dogma or damage than by other less rigid, more human forces. This to me is the root of all evil and the opposite of true faith.

Their security and often sense of purpose resides within rigid boundaries. Elements outside these frontiers become the enemy that needs to be resisted or destroyed. Blind faith versus true?! faith. I feel I'm on a slippery slope.

I was deeply involved in political work during the 1980's. I began this path by working with an interfaith organization that developed in Arizona in response to the wave of refugees that were fleeing to the U.S. to escape the violence in Central America, especially from Guatemala and El Salvador. Initially my church-based work involved helping these refugees find safe haven via the Sanctuary Movement.

Much of this work was done as a high profile challenge to the Reagan administration which was choosing to deport many of these people back into harm's way. Granting them refugee status would be an admission of their political failure. Our church-based movement was infiltrated by government agents and eight of my Arizonan coworkers were indicted conspiracy and a large number of the refugees we were working with were sent back to the danger they had fled.

Prior to the arrests and deportations I was codirecting a refugee social service agency and a man named Jesus Cruz kept showing up wanting to help. After the indictment we found out he was a government agent who was secretly taping conversations including refugee bible study meetings at a local church. Faith betrayed by Jesus.

The arrest and subsequent trial became front page news across the country. (Most of those arrested were eventually convicted but given suspended sentences.) Our projects were soon flooded with people who wanted to volunteer. The new arrivals were a combination of local and out of state church-based volunteers, left wing political activists some of whom were affiliated with political parties strongly committed to Marxist principles, and, predictably at this point, government agents.

These were heady times. There was excitement and passion and commitment. We were taking a stand which we believed had a solid humanitarian and political foundation. Ambivalence evaporated. I and my colleagues were on a crusade for truth and justice. I became totally engaged in the process and committed much of my time and energy to it. I moved from direct service to advocacy. I organized demonstrations, got arrested several times, made speeches, wrote op-ed pieces, published a newsletter, spoke on radio talk shows and organized trips to the war zones of Central America.

Eventually this work led to other politically oriented projects including starting a progressive newspaper and working to establish a vital public access television station in the Phoenix area. The public access struggle involved going head to head with city government officials who were much more influenced by the deep pocketed cable companies. My political life reached a climaxwhen I was arrested at a Maricopa County board of supervisors meeting. The following day I was featured on the front page of local paper being carried out of the meeting in a choke hold. Political work was making me angry and bitter. Time to take a break.

During most of time I was doing political work I was happy, engaged but, in retrospect, inexcusably neglectful of my family responsibilities. I made little money. My wife worked full-time and took care of most of the household responsibilities, including the care and nurturing of our two daughters. I feel shame writing this but I acknowledge it to reinforce the point I'm trying to make. Do you get it?

Faith revisited will be resumed in next entry. Thanks for reading. Comments welcomed. Happy Thanksgiving!








Monday, November 15, 2010

Faith Interrupted

I am a fallen Catholic and a rising Buddhist. I resist anything that has the least smell of doctrine. This posture is most likely a function of early spiritual abuse. A nameless personality disorder that manifests itself via deep longing for transcendence punctuated by creepy crawlies when someone tells me the way to salvation. Thus the dilemma. Do I gird my loins and try to follow a well worn path or do I do I wander in the wilderness hoping to come upon Shangri-La?

I'm now 63 years and I know and I don't know the answer. I believe I have reached a point in my life where paradox is not a problem but a solution in itself.

I wrote the above yesterday morning and I'm trying to continue the theme but I'm having difficulty focusing on high falutin spiritual matters. I wake up today with other, more immediate concerns. The irony is that letting day-to-day concerns trump spirituality is like asking the driver of the bus to move out of his seat so you can get a better view.

I just read my daughter Katie's latest blog entry about her thoughts and feelings about her and her husband Brian's imminent departure on a world travel adventure at Leap and the Net Will Appear. It's pushed me past the denial stage and I'm sitting here feeling sad about them leaving. It's a wonderful opportunity and they're very brave but I will miss them.

The other thing that's right in my face is my plan to file for Social Security retirement benefits this morning. My plan is to start receiving SS in January and leave my current job early in the year. The idea of not being employed scares the hell out of me but I know its the right thing to do. Just like my daughter, I'm thrilled by the door that is opening but anxious about what may be on the other side.

I'm enjoying writing this blog. It's therapeutic and fun. I especially like getting comments. I've received one so far. Thanks Martha!! Martha also has a blog, Boat Meal, which I read with relish.

I will resume my faith musings next time. Thanks for reading.


Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Too Long in Exile

I started meditating on a regular basis seven or eight years ago and I can unhesitatingly say that it has made my life better. I've experienced and am experiencing all of the advertised benefits of a regular meditation practice. Increased joy, peace, intimacy, awareness, gratitude, acceptance...decreased stress, worry, depression, fear.

I still struggle at times with day to day living but its not as difficult. I still take medications to keep my chloresterol and blood pressure down and my arthritis symptoms at bay. My hair is still thinning and neck waddles are wiggling. I have some very difficult days at work and often come home and get lost in mindless TV channel and computer surfing. But for me, in many ways, meditation has bee a life saver. I feel more awake and alive now than I ever have. I say that with some bitterness because there is a part of me that feels I wasted many years on automatic pilot.


I unsuccessfully attempted to establish a regular practice for a while but it didn't take until I started yoga classes. Yoga seemed to unbind something in me. It's difficult to explain but it gave me a glimpse of a calm mind. It helped me have the patience to sit still and not feel like I was going crazy. I resist theory. I know this stuff is good for me because it makes my life better not because it fits some theory I or someone else may have. Experiential not theoretical.

My practice has led me to go on a series of retreats. Most have been at IMS. The last retreat I went to was at the Vipassana Meditation Center in Shelburne, MA. This is one of the more tha 120 centers worldwide offering courses in Vipassana Meditation, as taught by S.N.Goenka and his assistant teachers in the tradition of Sayagyi U Ba Khin. IMS is also based on the Vipassana tradition but the meditation technique taught by Goenka is strikingly different especially in his use of body scanning.

These silent retreats usually last from 7 to 10 days and can be extremely intense and rewarding. I strongly recommend them for anyone interested in deepening their practice.

IMS has a three tier charge system with the minimum for an extended retreat usually being about $500. You're also asked to provide a donation to the teachers. There is no charge for the Goenka retreat but you are asked to make a donation and the daily schedule is more demanding. You must follow a strict monastic routine that includes minimal food after mid day and meditation sessions from 4:30 AM until 9 PM. At IMS no one checks if you're in a session. At Shelburne a moderator comes looking for you. At IMS there are usually three teachers who give Dharma talks and who you can meet with individually. At Shelburne teachings are via videos made by S.N. Goenka about fifteen years ago. You do have the opportunity to talk face to face with assistant teachers. At IMS participants are asked to volunteer to do a job i.e., wash dishes. At Shelburne "old students" volunteer to serve during retreats. Both places strongly discourage people from leaving early. At Shelburne, Goenka referred to an early exit as comparable to a patient getting off of the operating table during brain surgery. If that's not enough to scare you into staying they also ask you to turn over your car keys at the beginning of the ten day session. For some reason I wasn't asked for my keys and if I was I'm not sure I would have stayed. (I was told no one would force you to stay they just want a chance to talk to you before you leave)

While on retreat at both places you are not to read, talk, use a phone or look at others. You sit across from other while eating but don't make eye contact. The only person you're supposed to communicate with are brief sessions with teachers. You also agree to no stealing, killing (including insects) and sex. Men and women are separated at Goenka facilities but mixed at IMS. I found the separation of sexes helpful. By the third of fourth day at IMS the lack of other stimulation seemed to heighten sexual awareness and this could get distracting.

The Shelburne retreat was very different and for me a more powerful experience. It was in many ways so personal that I'm not sure how much I want to share in this blog. But it was very important to where I am now in my life. In fact when I retire, part of my evolving plan, is to spend time at that center doing volunteer service. I have some reservations about this as well which I may share in a future blog.

One of the first books I read on meditatioon was How to Meditate - A Guide to Self-Discovery by Lawrence LeShan. On the opening page he writes "We meditate to find, to recover, to come back to something of ouselves we once dimly and unknowingly had and have lost without knowing what it was or where or when we lost it." These were originally just words for me. Now, they are the truth.


Monday, November 8, 2010

Letting things go

Friday night dream... Dorothy and I are standing on a hill next to our dark blue 2008 Nissan Sentra. The car starts rolling down the hill towards a highway full of traffic. I try to chase after the car but Dorothy holds me back smiling and laughing. I'm furious. I want to save the car and she won't let me go. The car reaches the road and makes a right hand turn by itself and disappears.

Friday, November 5, 2010

Simple

I've just finished meditating after completing the prior blog post. While meditating I made the obvious connection between my fear of retirement and my self-worth issues. This simple, direct relationship is so glaring that it's almost embarrassing to write about it. (There's that embarrassing embarrassment stuff again) I'm afraid of retiring because my sense of self-worth is tied to my job. Duh. I think I've always known this but now I feel it. There's quite a difference and somehow it helps me feel more ready to make a move.

Living with clarity


In my first posting I seem to be setting goals for this whole operation. I want to be more accepting of myself and what I do. I want whatever I write to not be too constricted by a perceived need to have it be well-planned or thought out. And I want my writing to help me try to connect with guiding forces which will help me through the "tricky end game."


One of the things I'm trying to accept is that this blog is mainly going to be about me. I find this repulsive. It's not that I think I'm repulsive but there's an alarm bell that goes off when I turn the camera around.(My new iphone has a lens on both sides so all I have to do is push a button)

This reaction will hopefully help me come to terms with the egocentric bogeyman. It's frankly embarrassing to say too much about myself. What the hell does that mean? I hope it's more of a function of a belief that communal issues are more important than personal concerns. But I'm afraid it has more to do with feeling and thinking that there's fundamentally something wrong/embarrassing about me. That's truly fucked up and something I want to somehow get beyond. Easier said than done.

After typing the above lines I went to my book rack looking for my copy of Radical Acceptance: Embracing Your Life with the Heart of a Buddha by Tara Brach.Tara was one of the teachers at a retreat I attended at the Insight Meditation Society and her teachings and her book have been very helpful.

Well, I couldn't find her book but I picked out a book by Rodney Smith called Lessons from the Dying. He was a teacher at another retreat I went to at IMS. I opened the book to a random page and here is the first thing I read....

"There is an opportunity at death to give up all self-images, positive or negative. For peoople who have a low sense of self-worth, negative qualities can be more tenacious than positive ones because we believe in them more strongly. We often believe that we deserve to suffer, given how badly we feel about ourselves. We can even feel guilty for being happy."

He gives examples in the book of people who were successful in "working through ...negative self-images and dying with clarity."

Dying with clarity.
I want to live with clarity.

The opening quote of the book is apropos.
"Rehearse death. To say this is to tell a person to rehearse his freedom. A person who has learned how to die has unlearned how to be a slave." - Seneca, Letters from a Stoic

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Holding hands in the dark

I've just spent thirty minutes trying to come up with a blog title I can live with. Right Now! Right Now? Write Now? Write Now! As usual, resolution is ultimately compromise. I guess it finally comes down to acceptance. Accepting that my efforts are all right if they are from the heart and don't do damage. Accepting that despite my struggles with aging and pending retirement, joy and peace are lurking out there ready to pounce. All I have to do is let down my guard. Hell I could try to couch this in Buddhist terminology but it comes down to my choosing to be mired in past conditioning or deciding enough's enough. And it is.

So will I let my freak flag fly or continue to try to craft something solid, thoughtful and organized... certainly worthy of an "A" or at least an "atta boy". Impulsive rant/stream/vent or structured, thoughtful treatise. Some of both I hope. But there's a part of me that clearly leans toward the spontaneous. Somewhere I picked up the notion that less filter equals more truth. I think Allen Ginsberg and his ilk had a lot to do with that. I have an audio clip of him reciting "Howl" that I play to be reinspired re the power of art and balls-naked self-expression.
There's a new film out about him "Howl" I haven't seen it yet but the promo piece looks a bit too Hollywood to me. http://www.imdb.com/video/imdb/vi2072249881/ I glad he's getting attention I hope it doesn't sanitize him too much.

I am starting this blog as a way to connect. Connect with guiding forces which will help me find my way through this tricky end game. The form, timing and content of these hoped for hand holders through the dark are far from being clear. I invite you to be part of this journey and perhaps we can hold each other's hand along the way.