Sunday Meditation...

Been real busy this week, for so many different reasons, so haven't had a lot of time to meditate.

The one time I did, it didn't go well.  And then I was out running errands all day yesterday and barely had any time at home at all.  So I definitely wanted to take advantage of the opportunity today.  It's beautiful outside, and we have all of our windows open, letting in the sunlight, and a crisp, fragrant Spring breeze.  Just being home is almost meditative right now.

But, still, I felt myself getting lazy.  I just wanted to watch TV.  Maybe play some video games, or take a bath and read.  I didn't get a chance to do my mathematics lesson this morning like I usually do, and part of me was telling myself that my time would be better spent on that, or some other more stimulating activity than simply sitting and breathing.  But nonetheless, I pushed all of those thoughts aside.  I could feel inside of myself, a sense of being out of balance.  I've been busy doing and thinking a lot lately, really getting lost in my head.  Somewhere inside, I could tell that what I needed right now was to give that part of me a break, and let my heart and my gut take over for a while.  I could feel that sense of flow inside of me, pulling me towards my cushions, and my altar, and a brief period of peace.

As always, I'm glad I followed my Tao.  It was just what I needed.

What I realize as I observe this, is the Tao of Listening Inside.

In every situation, we already know what to do.  Even when we don't.  The answer to every question is already inside of us.  When we don't know what to do, it is only because there is too much noise in the way.  If we can only learn to be quiet, and listen, then we will hear - and we will know.

In stillness and peace, the Path becomes clear.  And so we can choose to follow it.

April in the Park...

Today is the warmest day of the year so far.

High was a lovely 83 degrees.  We spent our afternoon in the park.  They had a ribbon-cutting ceremony for some cherry trees they planted, to complement the ones given to us as a gift by the people of Japan in the early 1900's.  Afterwards, we watched a taiko drum performance by an amazingly talented group of middle-schoolers from Fukushima.  She took a short video with her camera phone.  Maybe I'll post it at some point.  Oh, and in a just a little while here, I'm going to have my last beer in who knows how long.  It's really been a wonderful day.

What I realize as I observe this, is the Tao of Living Contentedly.

And I think that's all I have to say about that for now.

Please enjoy yourselves this week.

The Itch...

I haven't found any inspiration today.

I got a lot accomplished, ticked a lot of items off of my to-do list, laughed and cried at various Moth stories that I listened to all day long, and in just about every way had a wonderful day.  But the whole time, there was this nagging voice in the back of my brain reminding me, "You have to come up with something to write about."  And, I just never did.

It was very frustrating.  But, at the same time, I know that creativity and insight can't be forced.  We can encourage them, but not make them happen.

When I got home, still with no ideas, and the pressure to post mounting, I decided to meditate.  Truthfully, I would've done that anyways, because I had both the time and the desire just then, but I couldn't help but hope that possibly, as an added bonus, the meditation might help spur something creative in me.  Not necessarily give me an idea for something to write about, but maybe make me more receptive to ideas, so that one would be more likely to arise spontaneously.  Or, at the very least, I could write about my meditation; might be kinda boring, but at least it's something to post.

But my attempt to meditate was a complete failure.  I was plagued by physical problems the entire time.  My back started hurting almost immediately, I couldn't find a comfortable position for my legs, and to top it off, there was something irritating my eye that I just could not seem to fix.  I couldn't concentrate at all, and on my fifth attempt of not getting past twenty breaths, I just gave up.  (This is a pattern.  I always have a session like this one - failure due to physical issues - within my first handful of sessions after I start meditating again.)

I could've forced myself to continue if I'd wanted, but there's really no point.  Meditating isn't like exercising, it's not about working through the pain.  It's about relaxing and letting go.  And so if there's some issue that's preventing you from doing that, then it's best to simply stop, and try again later.  I remember my teacher telling me, "If you have an itch while meditating, scratch it.  Do not try to simply ignore it.  That will only make the itch grow and grow until you are entirely focused on it, and are unable to concentrate on anything else.  And then you are not meditating.  It is much better to stop for a moment and scratch the itch.  Then it will go away, and you can return to meditation."

What I realize as I observe all of this, is the Tao of Scratching the Itch.

Sometimes, I'm not going to be able to meditate successfully for one reason or another.  And this is inherent in the practice of meditating - I will not always succeed, anymore than I will always fail, and that is just the Way of Things.  And so when that happens, the best thing to do is not waste any more time or energy than is absolutely necessary trying to do something that isn't working.  As soon as I realize that it isn't working, it is best for me to simply stop, and try again some other time.

Similarly, sometimes I'm not going to be inspired to write anything.  And this is inherent in the practice of writing.  Sometimes I will have something I feel a need to write about, and sometimes I will not, and that is just the Way of Things.  And so when I have nothing to write about, it is best not to waste any more time or energy worrying about it than is absolutely necessary.  Pressuring myself to come up with something meaningful or worthwhile or inspiring to write every day, when I'm not having any meaningful or worthwhile or inspiring ideas, is like trying to resist scratching an itch - soon the pressure to write becomes all I can feel, and being inspired then becomes impossible.  So it is best to simply let it go, and walk away, and try again later.

Go with the Flow.  Take what you get.  Remain open and receptive.  Do not want.  Do not force.  Do not expect.  Let it come as it will, and it will come.

That is The Way.

...

Addendum:  when I read that, it sounds like I'm saying I don't feel the need to post here every day.  That's not what I'm trying to say, but I didn't want to rewrite the above to try and make that clear.  I like the way what I wrote above stands, and so I want to leave it at that.  But please understand that I still intend to try to post something every day.  All I'm trying to change is the way I respond to the pressure inherent in that situation, and to my feeling that anything I post here needs to be somehow insightful or meaningful to a certain degree in order to be worth posting.  Sometimes, my posts might need to be mundane, and I should learn to accept that and be ok with that, because it is an absolutely necessary part of the process.

I do apologize in advance, however, to all three of my readers, for any future posts that might be less than thrilling.

The Tao of Rejuvenation...

I felt really sick this morning for some reason.

Chills and queasiness, lethargic and drained.  I didn't know what was wrong, or what to do about it, but I knew I wanted to feel better.  I decided to try and meditate, and see if that helped.

Fell right into it, perfectly.  Sometimes it takes a while to get into it, you end up adjusting your position here and there a bunch of times, trying to find that sweet spot of comfortableness, or it takes a few tries to focus on your breathing, etc.  But there are also times like today, where you sit down straight into the perfect position, drop your eyelids, and fall right into it, like you've never left.  I immediately started to relax, and feel better.

Went for 216 breaths - 2 full mala.  I probably could've gone for a while longer, and I considered it, but by that point it was beginning to get a little more intense, and I didn't want to push it; this was about relaxation, not psychospiritual exploration.  I'll save that for another day.

When I came back to myself, I found that I did, indeed, feel better.  Not great, but a lot better.  No more chills or queasiness.  Still a bit lethargic, but it was much more like a pleasant relaxation than a forced sleepiness.

What I realize as I observe this, is the Tao of Rejuvenation, through Centering in the Void.

The period of meditation acted almost like a restart to my system.  I emptied myself of all the unpleasantness I was experiencing, centered and stabilized myself within the void of perception I'd created, and returned to myself, almost as new, cleared of a lot of the gunk I had been holding onto, and ready to move forward again.  I still only had so much to work with at the time, so I wasn't going to make myself feel completely 100% fantastic.  And I didn't get anywhere near experiencing a mystical moment of complete ego-dissolution, so it wasn't like I became an entirely new person or anything.  But that was never the goal.

I let go to create a void within myself, and allowed myself to relax into that void and simply experience it.  And when I allowed myself to return from that void, I felt renewed, and rejuvenated, and I found that the worst of my bad feelings had melted away.

And undeniably, I feel much better now.

The Tao of Yin Becoming Yang...

Yesterday was a really, really bad day, and not just because of Mr. Squirrel.  That was, unfortunately, only the beginning.  In fact, yesterday was a continuing escalation of a bad day that had really started the day before.

My computer crashed yesterday morning.  Again.  And crashed, and crashed, and crashed all day, and nothing I did helped at all.  In fact, every single one of my personal computing devices has died in the last week.  My smartphone died on Friday, and I'm still trying to find the time to get back to the store before they close in the evening to pick up a new one.  On Sunday, my internet at home crapped out, and didn't come back up again until Tuesday evening, after I reset and reconfigured every single part of it.  And for the last couple of days, my work machine has been dying a slow, painful death, as well.  I feel like I've spent my entire week just trying to get my computers, which I rely on so much for the functioning of my everyday life, to simply fucking work.

I ended up spending almost my entire day yesterday trying to fix my work computer.  Of course, I couldn't get any of my work done while I was doing this.  But that doesn't magickally push any of my deadlines back, either.  So every hour I spent trying to fix my machine was an hour that I no longer had to get any of my work done, and I was very aware of this in the moment.  And every time I tried to fix the problem, and failed, my frustration, aggravation, and stress levels rose.

I tried to find the Joy in my situation, but I just couldn't overcome the negative things I was feeling.  Even the fact that in trying to fix my problem I was learning all sorts of new things (normally an almost sensual pleasure for me) about the coding and configuration behind-the-scenes of my web browser wasn't enough to make me feel better in the face of ACH! FUCK! WHY WON'T MY COMPUTER WORK?!

I felt like a failure.  I'd barely made it a week, and here I was, losing my sense of Joy already.  I knew it wouldn't last forever, but I honestly thought I could make it last longer than that.  And then I realized that feeling like a failure for not living up to the spirit of UT #3, was also contradictory to the spirit of ManniMoonYin's Universal Tautology #2, "You cannot be good.  You cannot be bad.  You can only be."  Which, ironically, only made me feel like more of a failure.

But this morning was the beginning of a new day.  And I awoke with a fresh perspective.

What I realize as I observe all of this, is the Tao of Yin Becoming Yang.

You can't be happy constantly, all the time.  It's not that it is impossible to accomplish, but rather that if you're happy all the time, then eventually it ceases to be "happy" and becomes simply "normal."  Yin and Yang combining to form the Tao symbolizes that we live in a world of duality.  Or, rather, that our perception of the world is a dual one.  We can only distinguish something in terms of its opposite.  We only know what "happiness" is, because of "unhappiness," and vice versa.  Without "happiness" there is no "unhappiness," and vice versa.  So, in order to maintain happiness, it must occasionally be tempered with some unhappiness.  I realize now that the goal of UT #3 is not to be happy all the time, forever.  It is simply to be as happy as possible, as much of the time as possible, and to learn to let the unhappiness come and go when it must, without attachment, and to recognize it as essential to continued happiness.

In that sense, yesterday was actually a success for me.  Not because I got upset.  But because when I was upset, and when it became clear to me that I was not going to be able to Brightside my way out of these feelings, I responded by trying to let them go and not hang on to them, and by trying to remain calm and simply deal with the problem at hand without letting myself get all worked up about it.  I reminded myself that, "Yes, this sucks, but it's not the end of the world.  And sometimes things suck, and that is just a fact of living.  So, there's nothing to do but try to let it go, and focus on the problem at hand."  And I remembered UT #1, the "Primary Directive" (I totally just thought that up - no, really):  "All things that Are, are Change."  In other words, "This too, shall pass."

And it did.

Te: The Power of Small Things

I combed my hair the other day.

For many months now, I've been sporting what I've referred to as, "The Mad Scientist Look."  Hair going up and out in every direction, like a birds' nest; my only effort to do my hair in the morning being simply to wet it, towel it dry, and then muss it up as much as possible, almost as if I were giving myself a noogie.  Though I thought of it as "Mad Scientist," in retrospect it probably came off more as "The Homeless Junkie Look."

After my drift on Saturday, after my shower, as I was getting myself ready to go out to dinner, I decided to comb my hair.  I honestly can't remember the last time I did this.  (Even before the M-S-L, all of the haircuts I've had in recent memory have required the use of my hands to arrange, if they've needed arranging at all.  I can't remember the last brush I owned, and the only thing I've used a comb for lately is my beard.)  Just combed my wet hair back along my part, very simple and neat.  I don't know why I made that particular change just then, but I felt different, so it felt right to look different.  And I'm still following my instincts, listening to my gut, going with the flow of my Tao, etc.  And the pull inside me just then said, "comb your hair."  So I did.

I have to say that I like the new look better than the old.  Overnight my hair went from curly to straight.  And I hadn't realized how long my hair had gotten.  Swept back over my skull, it has an almost classic, yet still quite nerdy feel that I find I'm enjoying.

But it was a fairly severe departure, as you can imagine.  Pretty much the exact opposite of what I'd been doing before.  This has become especially apparent to me today, now that I am back at work, in the form of the many double-takes I've received from co-workers.  Over and over again, I'll pass someone in the hall whom I've worked with for many years, and we'll each say "hi."  And I'll see in their eyes when we first address each other, just a split-second of the process Incomprehension-to-Recognition-to-Surprise.

What I realize as I observe this, is the Tao of Properly Applied Force.

Such a small thing to do, such a minor difference to make, and with such minimal effort.  But the affect of this miniscule action ripples out through my entire life and changes so much.  My appearance, or the information that I broadcast to every other human I encounter in my day-to-day life, is now completely different.  And so not only has my message changed, but for those who know me, and who know how I looked before, there is the additional message of, "something has changed with him; he is different now than he was before."  And not just with the hair.  Because on some level, even for just a microsecond, they have to think:  Why did he do that?  Why would he change his appearance to almost the exact opposite of the way it has been for so long now?  And why now?  What happened to him?

And it affects me greatly, as well.  Every time I look in the mirror, or catch my reflection in a pane of glass out of the corner of my eye, I see someone that I don't immediately recognize.  For a split-second, I am a stranger to myself.  And again, there is that instant of cognitive dissonance, of gnosis.  That brief crack in reality where, for the tiniest of moments, you're not sure which side of the looking glass you're standing on.  That hyperunit of time where everything is true, and everything is possible.  And then recognition sets in, and your ego returns, and you're suddenly aware of who you are again.  The effect of so many brief flashes of un-reality inserted into ones' day is not to be underestimated.  It tends to make everything feel less real, and more fluid; it tends to make the seemingly impossible feel more possible.  And it is exhilarating.

I've managed to change my sense of what is real, simply by combing my hair.