Picture Me as an Empty House designed by Rumi, or Something...

Grabbing the mind-dog's attention with expanded horizons of meditation! A partial memory and a shallow understanding had left me like a doggie chasing its own tail (or tale) of sadness, making endless circles on the living room carpet until this past Monday when something changed...

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.

~ Rumi, Read more here.

This was just about as far as my imagination had held of Rumi's The Guest House: it was about all I was able to paraphrase to share with a meditation group I participated in on Monday night (even though there is more to the poem). And as I was saying my poorly remembered version of this poem, what I saw was that I had seen a picture of myself in the words, and what I was able to remember was that picture of myself. So I wasn't really remembering the poem; I was actually remembering a perception of myself as seen through the magic mirror of the language of the poem.

My creative offering towards these words (also known as my understanding) painted my house to be "the guest house" as in an extra house owned by a wealthy person that was a little less grand than the one they lived in. A guest dwelling like the smaller coach house in the back, hidden behind the established splendor of the main house.

In my memory of the poem I saw the crowd or “band of sorrows” running round and round in my little house, sweeping the insides clean. But If I had also remembered the next part my perception might not have been so stuck:

He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

And here is an awesome take on “the Guest”:

Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive.
Jump into experience while you are alive!
Think... and think... while you are alive.
What you call "salvation" belongs to the time before death.

If you do not break your ropes while you're alive
do you think
that ghosts will do it after?

~ Kabir, Read the rest of the poem here.

So when I put the sensibilities of these two excerpts together, I see that a “Guest house” might be an extraordinary situation, indeed… But in the sensibilities based in my experience of myself in my life’s personal stories the situation looks different.

Am I a guest in my own house? I have definitely felt that way… Like a guest that gets a cheerful greeting upon arrival, but then realizes later that they are an imposition on the host. I think that this is how I also treat my needs: yes, I see you sadness, shame or anger, but my preference is for you to go away. And since I want to be true I attempt to entertain these unwanted guests, but many times I fail to see things clearly, shutting down in the face of my anger when I might be better served to move toward a motivated action.

On Monday night at a neighborhood Soto Zen center, I heard Taigen say a couple of things that came together in my mind as a question: 1)"Thoughts are seen like clouds moving across the sky." and 2)"When we sit we don't want to ignore our thoughts." So my question was "Does the sky ignore the clouds?" because my understanding of this metaphor is that the sky is pure perception, and the clouds are the thought forms. And I also realized that I had been ignoring my thoughts in meditation, because I saw them as having a low priority in the process. I mean, how much attention do we really pay to the clouds moving across the sky, anyway… But my perception in my body is smaller than the sky (or is it?). I tend to see myself as very small in that process.

My mental framework as a “guest house” then came together with the language of clouds and sky, and I saw that I had been ignoring what was in my “house”, which is really my head. I realized that I need to pay attention to what is visiting, and I might find that certain guests like those circulating sorrows, are actually ghosts from the old stories I have told myself about who I am (ghosts having little relevance in my reality today). It is high time to take another fresh look: every time I pay attention.

* with thanks to Taigen Dan Leighton, who gave an engaging Dharma Talk (one of many great talks!) at Ancient Dragon Zen Gate last Monday night *

** and see my latest offering at Elephant Journal: Spiritual Declaration of Independence **

Giving up Fear

I’m giving up fear because fear keeps me comfortably stagnated. Familiar and cloying, it’s almost like one of those invisible electric fences that gives a dog a little shock when it’s at the perimeter of the yard, keeping it in. Similarly, fear alters my body chemistry when I’m about to leave my comfort zone. When fear strikes, the space inside my rib cage feels like it is being squeezed by an invisible iron hand. The veins in my arms and legs seem to vibrate and grip, pulsing with sickly nervous tension. It’s as if I’m being transformed into a jerky marionette of my nervous system. And my belly is so unhappy, tight and gassy.

Why go into the unpleasant and uncomfortable fear?

Life inside the fence feels safe, but it’s stifling. Intellectually, I get that it’s not good for me to stay inside my current habits. These habits that I’m looking at were formed around an idea of myself and who I am that is out-of-date. And even though the stakes are high and facing this fear looks intimidating, I’m feeling restless inside my electric fence of fear. I want to live my life, and actively choose direction. I want to do something for my tired self.

A part of me is tired. This part has seen dreams not come true, in sad moments this part has failed. The first draft of life plans was inadequate. But, this is an opportunity for mind over matter. And I bet that if the dog goes far enough past the boundary of the fence, the collar will stop firing. And similarly, I think that if I go far enough out of my comfort zone I will feel exhilarated to freely roam in new territory.

Comfortable stagnation is really not that comfortable.

Being a prisoner of my nervous system is no fun. I can please myself with small treats and known activities. But to grow, I need to find a way to get past the boundary of my own fear.

Fear keeps me safe.

In defense of fear it has kept me safe, and kept my ancestors safe. But in adulthood there is a call to go beyond the narrow yard where you were taught to stay as a child.

Fear keeps me stupid.

In my interactions with others I can get overwhelmed, when I’d like the courage to speak my truth. This is an area where I feel most stupid. I only remember later what it would have been good to say, or I think of a good question I might have asked. But, sometimes I get lost when I’m faced with a new challenge in communication. Or I just get flummoxed.

Going into fear.

A strategy that works is to go into the fearful place with someone else that has been there, and can encourage you to go there, too. At Kripalu there is a wonderful hot tub, and a cold plunge. I was afraid of the cold plunge. I put my toe in there and a calf, but that’s about it. My body tightened on the inside, seeming to say, “no, don’t go there.” I just couldn’t make myself do it. I told a friend about this, and she told me about how great it was to go back and forth between the hot and cold water. And she offered to be my cold plunge mentor because that was how she overcame her resistance to the cold water. I hesitated for a moment because the cold plunge was a small pool, and most of the women bathe naked. I had a little fear about my personal space, but I really wanted to try so I said yes (of course!).

After getting hot in the spacious hot tub, I followed my mentor over to the little cold plunge bath. She went right in, hugging herself and breathing fast, and said something like, “oh my god,” a few times. I went right in, all the way to my neck. I was smiling. And it was so easy with my friend there. I looked into her eyes and felt courageous. It was very cold, but the coldness seemed secondary to teamwork, doing this thing together, and showing that I could do it, too. I was in no hurry to leave, so we stayed a couple minutes. And when I went back into the hot water my body released so much more. It was wonderful! And for the rest of the visit I did the hot tub to cold plunge whenever I could.

When you have to go it alone…

What about something that you have to do alone? Say that there is nobody to hold your hand. What can we do about a fear like this?

I’m actually stuck with this one. But, of course, I have a few ideas. One is to still get support. Sometimes an understanding and affirming listener can be enough to help someone make a change. Another is to decide to do it. When I’m mentally dancing just outside of something I want it is because there is some resistance to doing it. So on some level I have decided not to do it. For whatever reason, I’m telling myself I want some thing, and at the same time am actively resisting the very thing I might say I want. Ugh. What can I do when I suspect that I’m standing in my own way?

Maybe writing about it can help me understand. Perhaps visualizing something good on the other side will help me convince myself that it’ll be okay. Maybe yoga can help me calm my internal riffraff, or breath exercises can calm the fear response. Maybe meditation can help. Therapy? All of the above? Something I’ve missed? Is it a matter of more life experience? You know, as I age maybe I’ll understand better how to manage myself. But, how much longer do I have? Patience. I’ll keep my eyes open, listen to my heart, and do something about it.

Giving up fear.

I suspect that I have to give up my fear to move forward. The fear is likely to continue to show up in my body, but what I can work with is my response to it. So I’m actually giving up the way I cater to it. Do I allow it to wear me out, so I’m too tired to make the changes I want? Do I allow it to keep me away from experiences that might change me? Do I over-eat to escape the physical tension, and numb myself out? Am I to continue to be a slave of fear, a victim terrorized by my own life?

I believe I have a choice about this. Do I have the strength to walk through the door I haven’t opened? Can I go the way that will change my external and internal landscape? Will I approach a vista that I’d never thought I’d see?

Who am I?

When people are lost in their lives the natural question, “Who am I?” can come up. I’ve recently heard it from a person on a show about addiction and recovery, friends in career questioning, and myself as I consider what I want in life.

This question can also be used as a method to enter meditation. I have experienced the, “Who am I?” exercise in yoga workshops, with good results. In pairs, one person asks the question, “Who am I?” and the other answers. When it gets quiet, the question is asked again for the whole duration of the exercise. This summer someone told me that in the ‘70s she had done this for 36 hours straight! I have only done it for several minutes, and it’s very interesting. Recently my last answer was, “love and nobody special.” I was “nobody special” in that I was seeing myself as a part of the larger flow of life.

If I did it right this minute I might say that I am “a ball of nerves,” “a runny nose,” and “comforting breath.” I am a “questing intellect,” a “mild headache,” and “percolating joy.”

When I scan myself for qualities I see things I like and things I don’t like. Where I can get into trouble is if I mentally attach to a particular aspect of myself. For example, if I focus on my constantly running nose I can build frustration about a body function, leading to an unhappy mental state. But, even if I were to concentrate only on joyful messages from my cells I might find myself in an inappropriately inflated mental state, because I do have a cold to take care of. So pretending that life is perfect is just as false as dwelling on life’s miserable qualities.

In Iyengar yoga I have heard a quote by B.K.S. Iyengar that says something like, “All the cells in the body have eyes.” What I take from this is that in yoga we want to work with consciousness evenly throughout the whole body. From a physical perspective I might say, “I am all the cells that make up my body.” And from a yogic point of view I can see that all the cells participate in my yoga posture in a vibrant or dull way(in the vibrant cells the eyes are looking, and in the dull ones the eyes are closed). For example, if I don’t bring awareness to the way I work my legs in a standing pose, then my spine is probably collapsed. This would prevent me from benefitting from the pose and possibly cause harm to my body. The consciousness is uneven in this case.

Similarly, from a mental perspective, I could say, “I am my thoughts.” And what if all the thoughts I experience also have eyes—just like the cells of my body. This might mean that all thoughts participate in my mental state. So if I habitually favor certain kinds of thoughts, I am not seeing a clear picture of myself. For example, if I choose to favor thoughts that came from what someone else said about me like, “You’re a bitch.” This can clearly lead me into a downward mental spiral as I remember all the times I might have acted from a less-than-pure place.

The trouble with favoring certain kinds of thoughts is that the mind creates more of what you prefer, skewing a person’s understanding of themselves. For example, if I am often looking at all the ways I’ve screwed up in life, I’m going to see myself as a failure. Or, if I habitually look at moments where my actions hurt others, I’m a perpetrator. Or, if I tend to see myself as being hurt by others over and over in my life, I’m a victim. And if I look at all the ways I’ve helped others, I’m a hero.

Who I am at the level of thought is not easily seen, and it changes from moment to moment. Who am I? I am beautiful energy. I am overactive nasal passages. I am freedom and spaciousness. I am cranial pressure. I am a hug.

I am incredibly specific, and totally undefined.

Numb me up, Wall-E!

In this high-speed society we have forgotten how to relax, instead we numb-out--a poor substitute for relaxation. Numbing-out strategies: carb-loaded food, drugs and alcohol, workaholism, over-sleeping, even compulsive yoga practice can be desensitizing. To numb oneself through these or other methods regularly is also an expression of hopelessness--like saying to oneself: I don't want to deal with reality, or I can't take reality, I feel uncomfortable or unsure about the future. This is totally normal human experience! Yet, to have an awareness that sees what is going on can help a person make clear decisions about how to spend one's precious life energy.

There are times (many more than I'd like to admit) when I eat a carb-loaded snack or meal, then, "surprise!" I need to rest or sleep. The food puts me out. I know this, yet there are still times where I come home to "get things done," and realize,"I'm hungry," which can lead to, "I want Thai noodles," or,"corn chips," which leads to,"night, night." And later it leads to self-loathing, as I've let myself down again!

Do we really have to numb-out so much that we let the world get as bad as the movie Wall-E, where the world is totally buried in garbage? Earth is not habitable, so the people in the movie are all on a space-ship in a robotized culture where they are totally subdued and numbed-out. Robots take care of every whim and clean-up. They are only slightly more able-bodied than those people who were plugged into The Matrix. Wall-E has a light touch in that the people seem pleased to wake up and rebuild their lives on earth. They have a sense of wonder as they rediscover themselves.

Do we have to wait until things get as bad as that? Do we have to hit the lowest low before we can build something fresh and new? Of course you must realize, dear blog-reader, that I am talking about myself, and maybe you can identify with these ideas, too. ...It does look like we're in this together.

"If you have come to help me
You are wasting your time,
But if you have come because
Your liberation is bound up with mine
Then let us work together."
-Lila Watson

Thank you T-shirt wearer at The Grind coffee house in Lincoln Square where I found this quote.

How can one gain a sense of wonder for life when things seem lost and hopeless? This is an essential ingredient: to be curious about life. Even when you've seen the fall season for 20, 30, 40, 50, 60 or more years, can you smell the leaves this season, and see the colors, and feel the brisk air and the warm sun on the skin, and hear the leaves rustling as you walk, feeling weight in one foot then the other, tuning into your true sensations. They might be and probably are different from what I'm describing, as I can only give a rough sketch. As you feel your sensations, at home in your body, you might feel your mind open up, too, in delight, spacious awe, and wonder.

Many of us spend "down time" over-stimulating ourselves with constant movies, TV, video games, chores, worries, music, books on tape, etc.--never really resting. If this resonates, find a technique that suits: a relaxation CD, meditation, yoga, walking in nature, or something else that works for you. If you don't do it already: start a daily relaxation practice. My daily yoga and meditation practice is so important to me, and I see it as a place of physical and mental rejuvination. A resting body and mind is a clear body and mind. It is from this more relaxed place that we are better able to make the world a better place.

Peace.