So, I was present to the kids today. I tried my very best to just let them occur . At times, I felt like an idiot but I didn't yell at anyone, didn't get frustrated, and kind of discovered that in the same way that I can't change grownups, I can't change kids.
As we were doing the pledge of allegiance, I was interrupted by:
Hood on head, unhappy face and "I am not taking my hood off all day long!"
I thought "Oh no, this is going to be a long day."
But then I inquired instead of assuming:
"What's going on sweetie?"
"This weekend? I fell down and hit my head and it really hurts. Can I get an icepack?"
"Of course, and you can wear your hood if you need to."
(imediately takes off hood)
During our spelling pretest I heard:
Much, much, much ripping of paper, into smaller and smaller bits, and "I hate spelling!"
I thought, "I shouldn't have let her go to the bathroom. She missed the first part so she thinks she's behind. I can't let her rip up her paper like that. I'll get her later by making her redo it during her lunch."
Instead, I go on with the prestest. She walks up to me, shoulders hunched and mostly crying. I want to send her to her seat but I don't. I put my arm around her. We finish the pretest. She goes back to her seat and goes on with her day. I don't make her redo the pretest.
We are walking up from lunch. I see:
Spinning, spinning, spinning third grader. Third grader spinning past me, ahead of the line, in front of his teacher.
I think, "Disrespect. Defiance. Out of control."
I hear, "That teacher can't control her class. Look at those kids, totally out of line, and that one is all over the place. What kind of learning goes on in a class like that?"
I remind myself to only see, not think so much. I see again:
Spinning, spinning, third grader. He keeps spinning all the way up to the classroom door. Then he stops and kind of laughs at himself, dizzily walks into the room, and immediately gets on task.
Here's what I think I learned in third grade today:
I can't keep the first kid from being hurt and angry. He was hurt (physically) and was probably feeling a little ebarrassed/ defensive about the big scab on his forehead. He needed compassion and I gave it to him. He yelled at me later and only did what I asked when I told him I'd call home if he didn't. He cried as he did what I asked so I laid off him a bit and gave him space. Bizarrely enough, he did his work (not all of it, but he did it of his own choice, not because of me).
Spelling girl felt dumb because she didn't know one word. I can't do anything about this aspect of her, it's just who she is. I thought that by telling her she'd have to make up the test at recess, it would keep her from ripping up her next test, but it won't. I can't keep her from ripping up her test but I can let her know that I care about her. I'll find a way to practice those words with her another time.
Spinny boy was just me, hearing voices that never spoke. All he was doing was spinning. No one is judging my line, and if they do I'm happy to explain that we are walking to class. As long as we get there in time for read- aloud, I don't really mind what we look like. If we're bothering you, let me know, we can be quiet and orderly when we need to be.
Here's what else makes today slightly okay for me. After the dharma talk at Green Gulch on the weekend of our Young Urban Zen retreat, Fu responded to a teacher in the audience by saying: "It's about the relationships you have with the kids. That's what I always remember, and that's what they'll remember. It's the conversations you have with them, it's about you seeing them, them feeling cared for."
And it's true, it really is what I remember about school. The teachers who noticed me, took time to get to know me, who genuinely cared about me. That was what made the difference for me, and that's probably why I liked school so much- there were some grownups who saw things in me and wanted me to do well.
It's hard to accept that this is what I'm doing because I so want them to do well in school, to not be behind, to catch up and be academically prepared so that they can succeed in school. But at the same time, I know that this really is what I do; I see kids, especially when I behave the way that I did today. Spelling words and fractions aside, hugs and understanding present, a balance between the two or even an acceptance that they're all a part of me seeing these little beings and letting them be.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Underwear
I'm not sure where this one is going but it feels important.
Lately, I've gotten into the practice of being totally engaged in the task in front of me from the time I wake up in the morning until I walk in to the door of the zendo (which is all of about ten minutes). It goes like this:
Light turns on, I wake up and get out of bed. I take off my pajamas and put on my clothes. I put on my helmet, grab my bike and keys, open the door, get on my bike, and ride to the zendo.
Of course, throughout this entire routine about a million thoughts jump into my head. When they do, I say to myself: "Those are your thoughts, get back to your existence" and focus my gaze and mind on the task in front of me: putting on socks, grabbing a sweatshirt, watching the street in front of me as the wheel of my bike passes over it.
On Friday morning, this happened:
The light turned on, I got out of bed. I pulled off my pajama pants and pulled on my fleece pants. As I pulled them on...
"underwear" occurred to me.
"Oh," I thought. "I need underwear." So I took off my fleece pants, got a pair of underwear from my drawer, put them on, and then put back on my fleece pants and went on with the rest of my routine.
But then as I was riding to the zendo it struck me: this is kind of how it works. If you are present to the moment in front of you, the "underwear" occurs. You don't grasp at it, you don't freak out when it happens, it just shows up and when it does, you exist with it while it's there and then you move on.
See, I could have had a bunch of other interactions with the underwear:
Dude, you forgot your underwear?
Okay, from now on, you're going to put your underwear out with the rest of your clothes so you don't forget.
You're so lame that you can't even remember your underwear.
Remember when you forgot to wear underwear to church that one time when you were litle?
And on and on and on...
But the thing is, none of that happened this time.
See, it's weird- I struggle a lot with, like, what does it mean to be present? What does it mean to not grasp at things? How do you engage without getting caught up? What's it like to exist this way? How does it all work?
But that morning, when my underwear occurred to me, it was like a little mini lesson in a little parallel universe. It was like, okay, you live your life and you're present to it. And things come up and they just occur to you and you just respond to them just as they are: underwear. Not "lame for forgetting" or "make sure it doesn't happen again" just underwear, and put it on.
I don't know, maybe it isn't important, but for me, it feels like maybe, someday, in this universe I'll be able to have things like child yelling out "You don't care about me! That's why you won't call on me!" just occur and maybe I'll be able to just respond instead of hearing "you don't give her enough attention" or "turn her card to yellow so she doesn't call out again."
Right now, I have no idea what just responding to her would actually be. But I feel like if I start being present to my classrom and my kids, the way I'm present for the first ten minutes of my day, maybe they can start to just occur to me too and that feels like I'll be on the way to responding to them instead of feeling hurt by them (and hurting them in return) or trying to change them to avoid any future suffering.
Lately, I've gotten into the practice of being totally engaged in the task in front of me from the time I wake up in the morning until I walk in to the door of the zendo (which is all of about ten minutes). It goes like this:
Light turns on, I wake up and get out of bed. I take off my pajamas and put on my clothes. I put on my helmet, grab my bike and keys, open the door, get on my bike, and ride to the zendo.
Of course, throughout this entire routine about a million thoughts jump into my head. When they do, I say to myself: "Those are your thoughts, get back to your existence" and focus my gaze and mind on the task in front of me: putting on socks, grabbing a sweatshirt, watching the street in front of me as the wheel of my bike passes over it.
On Friday morning, this happened:
The light turned on, I got out of bed. I pulled off my pajama pants and pulled on my fleece pants. As I pulled them on...
"underwear" occurred to me.
"Oh," I thought. "I need underwear." So I took off my fleece pants, got a pair of underwear from my drawer, put them on, and then put back on my fleece pants and went on with the rest of my routine.
But then as I was riding to the zendo it struck me: this is kind of how it works. If you are present to the moment in front of you, the "underwear" occurs. You don't grasp at it, you don't freak out when it happens, it just shows up and when it does, you exist with it while it's there and then you move on.
See, I could have had a bunch of other interactions with the underwear:
Dude, you forgot your underwear?
Okay, from now on, you're going to put your underwear out with the rest of your clothes so you don't forget.
You're so lame that you can't even remember your underwear.
Remember when you forgot to wear underwear to church that one time when you were litle?
And on and on and on...
But the thing is, none of that happened this time.
See, it's weird- I struggle a lot with, like, what does it mean to be present? What does it mean to not grasp at things? How do you engage without getting caught up? What's it like to exist this way? How does it all work?
But that morning, when my underwear occurred to me, it was like a little mini lesson in a little parallel universe. It was like, okay, you live your life and you're present to it. And things come up and they just occur to you and you just respond to them just as they are: underwear. Not "lame for forgetting" or "make sure it doesn't happen again" just underwear, and put it on.
I don't know, maybe it isn't important, but for me, it feels like maybe, someday, in this universe I'll be able to have things like child yelling out "You don't care about me! That's why you won't call on me!" just occur and maybe I'll be able to just respond instead of hearing "you don't give her enough attention" or "turn her card to yellow so she doesn't call out again."
Right now, I have no idea what just responding to her would actually be. But I feel like if I start being present to my classrom and my kids, the way I'm present for the first ten minutes of my day, maybe they can start to just occur to me too and that feels like I'll be on the way to responding to them instead of feeling hurt by them (and hurting them in return) or trying to change them to avoid any future suffering.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Being present...feeling like a rockstar.
A few weeks ago, I went to the Bookswap immediately after I had been sitting zazen in the zendo and a funny thing happened: I kinda felt like a rockstar.
I walked in late and saw a good friend of mine whom I've known for a while. He seemed especially attentive, like he was making eye contact with me more frequently and for longer periods of time.
"Huh," I thought. " What's going on? He seems especially interested in me tonight. Is he, like, suddenly interested in me?"
But then I caught up with my other friends and they were all a chatter about how this guy had finally found his love and that they were getting serious and how great that was.
"Nope," I thought. "That's not it."
I checked my outfit. It was alright- but nothing striking. Plus, no one was commenting on it so it couldn't have been that great.
I walked over to the food table and started talking to people I didn't know. They were nice, but they were attentive too. It was weird, it was like they were stopping what they were doing and actually listening to me, intently.
I thought about what I was saying: was it especially profound? Nope. Was it the everybody-loves-their-third-grade-teacher thing? No, didn't seem to be, my conversation wasn't really focused on teaching at that moment.
I checked my hair. And then I remembered that I had ridden my bike to the Bookswap so, at best, I had windblown hair but, more likely, had helmet head.
And then it was time to sit down at the tables to discuss our books. I shared my book and the same thing happened: peeople seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say.
"Okay," I thought. "It's gotta be the book." But my book was Cider House Rules, which is a great book but not that great. And their attention didn't seem focused on the book or the contents, it seemed focused on me.
"Seriously," I thought. "I'm not being that cool. Like, I'm not this engaging. Something else is going on."
The guy across from me starting talking about his book and as he did, I noticed the contour of his face, how it was like the rolling hills of Marin. Then I noticed his nose and wondered if everyone in his family had the same nose.
After he finished, the girl right next to me started sharing about her book. As she spoke, I noticed the design in the frame of her glasses. Then I noticed the wrinkles near her chin and mouth. As she continued I noticed how clearly I could see her skin and her pores and I started to freak out and have a bit of an existential crisis about how we all are just cells.
And then I realized: I was just being present.
I could see all this stuff about people's physical presence because I had just come from meditating: my mind was open and my attention was focused on what was immediately in front of me.
And then I laughed at myself. I wasn't a rockstar. People weren't paying more attention to me tonight because of my outfit or because of what I was saying. They've always paid attention to me. This is what people do: they look at you when you talk, they listen to what you are saying, they genuinely are interested in what others have to say. You have just never actually been present for that attention.
It was a bit of a bittersweet enlightentment. My suspicions were correct: I'm not that interesting which is... what it is. But on the other hand, this feeling like a rockstar, it's available to me all the time. If I want to feel the attention of others, the interest of others, the love of friends who actually know me, what I really need to do is to be present to it and to them.
I walked in late and saw a good friend of mine whom I've known for a while. He seemed especially attentive, like he was making eye contact with me more frequently and for longer periods of time.
"Huh," I thought. " What's going on? He seems especially interested in me tonight. Is he, like, suddenly interested in me?"
But then I caught up with my other friends and they were all a chatter about how this guy had finally found his love and that they were getting serious and how great that was.
"Nope," I thought. "That's not it."
I checked my outfit. It was alright- but nothing striking. Plus, no one was commenting on it so it couldn't have been that great.
I walked over to the food table and started talking to people I didn't know. They were nice, but they were attentive too. It was weird, it was like they were stopping what they were doing and actually listening to me, intently.
I thought about what I was saying: was it especially profound? Nope. Was it the everybody-loves-their-third-grade-teacher thing? No, didn't seem to be, my conversation wasn't really focused on teaching at that moment.
I checked my hair. And then I remembered that I had ridden my bike to the Bookswap so, at best, I had windblown hair but, more likely, had helmet head.
And then it was time to sit down at the tables to discuss our books. I shared my book and the same thing happened: peeople seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say.
"Okay," I thought. "It's gotta be the book." But my book was Cider House Rules, which is a great book but not that great. And their attention didn't seem focused on the book or the contents, it seemed focused on me.
"Seriously," I thought. "I'm not being that cool. Like, I'm not this engaging. Something else is going on."
The guy across from me starting talking about his book and as he did, I noticed the contour of his face, how it was like the rolling hills of Marin. Then I noticed his nose and wondered if everyone in his family had the same nose.
After he finished, the girl right next to me started sharing about her book. As she spoke, I noticed the design in the frame of her glasses. Then I noticed the wrinkles near her chin and mouth. As she continued I noticed how clearly I could see her skin and her pores and I started to freak out and have a bit of an existential crisis about how we all are just cells.
And then I realized: I was just being present.
I could see all this stuff about people's physical presence because I had just come from meditating: my mind was open and my attention was focused on what was immediately in front of me.
And then I laughed at myself. I wasn't a rockstar. People weren't paying more attention to me tonight because of my outfit or because of what I was saying. They've always paid attention to me. This is what people do: they look at you when you talk, they listen to what you are saying, they genuinely are interested in what others have to say. You have just never actually been present for that attention.
It was a bit of a bittersweet enlightentment. My suspicions were correct: I'm not that interesting which is... what it is. But on the other hand, this feeling like a rockstar, it's available to me all the time. If I want to feel the attention of others, the interest of others, the love of friends who actually know me, what I really need to do is to be present to it and to them.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Full moon ceremony: version 2.0
I went to my second Full Moon ceremony a couple of weeks ago. It's kind of weird how this ceremony seems to always happen when I'm in the middle of a crisis. Last time, I was bitter and ready to give up on practice. This time, I was utterly confused about my feelings: how to feel them without reacting to them, how to meet them with equanimity, and feeling what it was like to let go of them and then suddenly want them back.Here's my play-by-play of the evening:
We start off in small groups to discuss the precepts (precepts are kind of like guidelines for how to live in a way that benefits others and (I think) reduce your own suffering too):
Practice group discussion leader, "Looking over the precepts, what stands out for you?"
I scan the sheet of paper that lists the precepts. BAM! I'm struck by: I vow not to praise self at the expense of others
Hmmm, what's up with that, why that one?
Oh, yeah, when I got all self righteous about feeling hurt by someone. Convinced that what really needed to happen was for me to be honest about how much they had hurt me, for them to see the effect of their actions on me, for them to understand how much their words had hurt me. All the while, completely unaware of the effect of these very words on them at that moment. Seeing them as separate from me, and in so doing, probably separating them even more from me, causing them suffering: praising self at the expense of others.
Feedback from discussion group leader: You hit the nail on the head with that one. You felt justified in your anger. You were seeking revenge.
Revenge?! I didn't even know I was capable of revenge...head drops to chest, shoulders droop.
We return to the Buddha hall to chant:
All my ancient twisted karma...
Okay, it's karma, it's not all me. These are habits, I'm messed up, but some of my messes are because of my early circumstances which weren't intentionally messy, but which created some messed up ideas about relationships and my role in them.
From beginningless greed, hate, and delusion...
Delusion-my nemesis! I swear, I need to buy that poster of the word delusion with the big ol' S in the middle of it and hang it at the foot of my bed so that it's the first thing I see when I get up in the morning.
Born through body, speech, and mind...
Yeah, especially speech this month!
I now fully avow...
What does avow mean again? Am I vowing to stop doing it? Am I cleansing myself of it? Am I free from it now and have a fresh new start?
We chant the precepts.(I missed the first two- looking for the chant sheet- after that, certain ones spoke to me more than others):
I vow to live and be lived for the benefit of all beings...
Gotta remember this one, especially the 'be lived for' part
I vow to not take what is not given...
Especially with people. Let interactions be, stop trying to make things happen in your interactions with others. Accept people for who they are, see what they have to give instead of trying to make them give you what you want from them.
I vow to refrain from false speech...
Are you really being honest when you "speak your truth" or are you speaking only the truth that sounds noble and good and righteous? Omitting the truths that might get you rejected or might not look so pretty to others.
And then this one really hit me:
I vow not to slander: In the Buddhadharma, go together, appreciate together, realize together and actualize together. Don't permit faultfinding. Don't permit haphazard talk. Do not corrupt the Way.
I hadn't been present at all when I expressed to this person how much they had hurt me. I just started talking and telling them how I felt. I didn't see them, or if I did, it was as someone completely separate from me, of being capable of hurting me, of intentionally hurting me. I was totally looking for fault in this person, for blame, for separation between us instead of harmony. And in the end, expressing it this way did exactly that: separated me from them even further, leaving me feeling more alone and hurt than before I had expressed my hurt feelings. Had I been present, had I approached the person with inquiry and an actual willingness to genuinely hear what they had to say, I would have seen their actions and heard their words. Instead, all I heard was myself: my perception of what they had done, my perception of what they were saying, refusing to see the truth of the person immediately in front of me.
"Great," I thought to myself. "You've just started the practice period and already you're failing at not one, but two of the precepts....
I vow not to harbor ill will...
HUGE smile. No harboring ill will, and that means you. No harboring ill will against yourself. You messed up, in more ways than you had imagined. You're gonna mess up some more. But you're trying. And you have some ways to practice this. You can be present, to yourself and the people around you. Remember your intent at the beginning of the practice period: big open chest, relaxed arms, open hands, vulnerable to what comes, embracing the world in a way that holds it while still allowing it to exist just as it is.
Deep breath, more bowing, still confused about when to step into the line to exit the Budhha hall but totally aware that no one is mad at you for that. Smile as you recognize the person who bows to Buddha at the same time as you, ride home together, write blog post.
We start off in small groups to discuss the precepts (precepts are kind of like guidelines for how to live in a way that benefits others and (I think) reduce your own suffering too):
Practice group discussion leader, "Looking over the precepts, what stands out for you?"
I scan the sheet of paper that lists the precepts. BAM! I'm struck by: I vow not to praise self at the expense of others
Hmmm, what's up with that, why that one?
Oh, yeah, when I got all self righteous about feeling hurt by someone. Convinced that what really needed to happen was for me to be honest about how much they had hurt me, for them to see the effect of their actions on me, for them to understand how much their words had hurt me. All the while, completely unaware of the effect of these very words on them at that moment. Seeing them as separate from me, and in so doing, probably separating them even more from me, causing them suffering: praising self at the expense of others.
Feedback from discussion group leader: You hit the nail on the head with that one. You felt justified in your anger. You were seeking revenge.
Revenge?! I didn't even know I was capable of revenge...head drops to chest, shoulders droop.
We return to the Buddha hall to chant:
All my ancient twisted karma...
Okay, it's karma, it's not all me. These are habits, I'm messed up, but some of my messes are because of my early circumstances which weren't intentionally messy, but which created some messed up ideas about relationships and my role in them.
From beginningless greed, hate, and delusion...
Delusion-my nemesis! I swear, I need to buy that poster of the word delusion with the big ol' S in the middle of it and hang it at the foot of my bed so that it's the first thing I see when I get up in the morning.
Born through body, speech, and mind...
Yeah, especially speech this month!
I now fully avow...
What does avow mean again? Am I vowing to stop doing it? Am I cleansing myself of it? Am I free from it now and have a fresh new start?
We chant the precepts.(I missed the first two- looking for the chant sheet- after that, certain ones spoke to me more than others):
I vow to live and be lived for the benefit of all beings...
Gotta remember this one, especially the 'be lived for' part
I vow to not take what is not given...
Especially with people. Let interactions be, stop trying to make things happen in your interactions with others. Accept people for who they are, see what they have to give instead of trying to make them give you what you want from them.
I vow to refrain from false speech...
Are you really being honest when you "speak your truth" or are you speaking only the truth that sounds noble and good and righteous? Omitting the truths that might get you rejected or might not look so pretty to others.
And then this one really hit me:
I vow not to slander: In the Buddhadharma, go together, appreciate together, realize together and actualize together. Don't permit faultfinding. Don't permit haphazard talk. Do not corrupt the Way.
I hadn't been present at all when I expressed to this person how much they had hurt me. I just started talking and telling them how I felt. I didn't see them, or if I did, it was as someone completely separate from me, of being capable of hurting me, of intentionally hurting me. I was totally looking for fault in this person, for blame, for separation between us instead of harmony. And in the end, expressing it this way did exactly that: separated me from them even further, leaving me feeling more alone and hurt than before I had expressed my hurt feelings. Had I been present, had I approached the person with inquiry and an actual willingness to genuinely hear what they had to say, I would have seen their actions and heard their words. Instead, all I heard was myself: my perception of what they had done, my perception of what they were saying, refusing to see the truth of the person immediately in front of me.
"Great," I thought to myself. "You've just started the practice period and already you're failing at not one, but two of the precepts....
I vow not to harbor ill will...
HUGE smile. No harboring ill will, and that means you. No harboring ill will against yourself. You messed up, in more ways than you had imagined. You're gonna mess up some more. But you're trying. And you have some ways to practice this. You can be present, to yourself and the people around you. Remember your intent at the beginning of the practice period: big open chest, relaxed arms, open hands, vulnerable to what comes, embracing the world in a way that holds it while still allowing it to exist just as it is.
Deep breath, more bowing, still confused about when to step into the line to exit the Budhha hall but totally aware that no one is mad at you for that. Smile as you recognize the person who bows to Buddha at the same time as you, ride home together, write blog post.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
The crappy cushion
I had an interesting insight in the zendo a couple of mornings ago. As I approached a zabutan to sit down, I noticed that it had a lumpy cushion on it. My eyes glanced to the adjacent zabuton and saw: firm, round, cushion. "Score!" I thought and quickly swapped the lumpy zafu for the firm one. As soon as I settled on to my nice firm cushion, someone walked up to the lumpy cushion next to me.
"Oh crap!" I thought. "That wasn't what I meant. I didn't mean to give the crappy cushion to someone else! Now they have to deal with the lumpy cushion."
I watched out of the corner of my eye as they attempted to fluff up the cushion, then watched them put their support cushions on top of it and settle in to their posture.
"Darn it," I thought. "I just spread the crap around. I thought I was just taking a nice firm cushion that no one was using. And that lumpy one was just sitting there two seconds ago... But now I've taken the crap I was given and dumped it on to someone else."
I know, it's just a cushion. And I'm sure the person was fine. But for me, this was about ramifications, unseen ones. I think it was important that someone came up and had to sit on the crappy cushion. It made me see that what seemed like a static, isolated act of taking what no one else was using was actually a pushing away of discomfort onto another. Again, it's just a zafu but still, it made me see that everything has its affect on others, whether we see it right then and there or not.
"Oh crap!" I thought. "That wasn't what I meant. I didn't mean to give the crappy cushion to someone else! Now they have to deal with the lumpy cushion."
I watched out of the corner of my eye as they attempted to fluff up the cushion, then watched them put their support cushions on top of it and settle in to their posture.
"Darn it," I thought. "I just spread the crap around. I thought I was just taking a nice firm cushion that no one was using. And that lumpy one was just sitting there two seconds ago... But now I've taken the crap I was given and dumped it on to someone else."
I know, it's just a cushion. And I'm sure the person was fine. But for me, this was about ramifications, unseen ones. I think it was important that someone came up and had to sit on the crappy cushion. It made me see that what seemed like a static, isolated act of taking what no one else was using was actually a pushing away of discomfort onto another. Again, it's just a zafu but still, it made me see that everything has its affect on others, whether we see it right then and there or not.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Don't GET it, just DO it
This morning, at the end of the second period of zazen, we chanted the robe chant and I thought, "Huh, I've been here on a Monday before and they don't usually do the robe chant." And then a bunch of people walked past me and I thought, "Huh, should I be leaving?" And then the Ino walked right by me and I thought, "Oh no, there's a ceremony, and I'm standing right next to the altar."
But then I thought, "Whatever, it's gonna happen whether you know what you're doing or not. Just follow along, you're fine." And that's what I did, I just stood there. I definitely looked around for people to follow but mostly, I just participated as best I could by doing what everyone else around me was doing.
Then we went upstairs for service and I walked in the Buddha Hall. I started to worry about my bow and whether or not I should be doing gassho or shasu and then I thought, "Did you bow? Are you showing respect for the forms by trying your best to do them? Are you in your spot? Are you following along? Then you're fine. Just participate."
And I did, I just participated. And I thought about how I felt that morning when we did the ceremony in the zendo. I wasn't frenetic like I usually am. I wasn't scanning the room, desperate for someone to watch. When I bowed late or stood too soon, I just bowed late or stood early, I didn't "Darn it!" myself or shrink in embarrassment, I just did it. And I thought about my bowing during service, how I was starting to "get" the timing of it. But at the same time I understood that the timing was always changing and that my bow wasn't about getting it, it's not like some day I'm going to have this perfect bow and forever after that I will never have to think about how to do bows again. It's not about "getting it," "catching it," "having it," it's about doing it, in that very moment in that very place. Are you bowing? Fine, you're done.
And I thought about something the Ino had said to me, that he thought that sometimes it seemed like I was trying to collect clues on a treasure map. It was a good analogy because I'm definitely trying to "get" this practice. I'm trying to "figure it out" as if there's some "right way" to do things (Though for me, it's like each thing I learn is a piece that I fit in my incomplete puzzle, and I definitely am looking for that feeling of a completed puzzle- mmmm, isn't that just the best feeling?)
But feeling how I felt in the zendo, and feeling how I felt in the Buddha hall during service: this engagement, this participation, this just doing instead of doing for something or in a certain way felt a lot more relaxing. I wasn't grasping, I wasn't flailing, I wasn't worrying or fearful, I was just trying my best. No, I wasn't even trying my best, I was just doing.
And then I thought about life, and how ridiculous it is of me to think that there is is a way to do life, that I could figure out life. And then I thought about people, and interactions, and friendships, and relationships, and feelings and emotions and oh! No way! There is no way that I could figure that out. And nomrally, this would frustrate me and make me sad and make me think that I'm lame for not being able to do what I'm supposed to do with others. But I get it- ooop, darn it! I don't get it! Okay, let's just say that I'm beginning to understand that I just need to do this life, just live it, be present to it, make mistakes in it, apologize for them, but keep showing up and being who I am.
But then I thought, "Whatever, it's gonna happen whether you know what you're doing or not. Just follow along, you're fine." And that's what I did, I just stood there. I definitely looked around for people to follow but mostly, I just participated as best I could by doing what everyone else around me was doing.
Then we went upstairs for service and I walked in the Buddha Hall. I started to worry about my bow and whether or not I should be doing gassho or shasu and then I thought, "Did you bow? Are you showing respect for the forms by trying your best to do them? Are you in your spot? Are you following along? Then you're fine. Just participate."
And I did, I just participated. And I thought about how I felt that morning when we did the ceremony in the zendo. I wasn't frenetic like I usually am. I wasn't scanning the room, desperate for someone to watch. When I bowed late or stood too soon, I just bowed late or stood early, I didn't "Darn it!" myself or shrink in embarrassment, I just did it. And I thought about my bowing during service, how I was starting to "get" the timing of it. But at the same time I understood that the timing was always changing and that my bow wasn't about getting it, it's not like some day I'm going to have this perfect bow and forever after that I will never have to think about how to do bows again. It's not about "getting it," "catching it," "having it," it's about doing it, in that very moment in that very place. Are you bowing? Fine, you're done.
And I thought about something the Ino had said to me, that he thought that sometimes it seemed like I was trying to collect clues on a treasure map. It was a good analogy because I'm definitely trying to "get" this practice. I'm trying to "figure it out" as if there's some "right way" to do things (Though for me, it's like each thing I learn is a piece that I fit in my incomplete puzzle, and I definitely am looking for that feeling of a completed puzzle- mmmm, isn't that just the best feeling?)
But feeling how I felt in the zendo, and feeling how I felt in the Buddha hall during service: this engagement, this participation, this just doing instead of doing for something or in a certain way felt a lot more relaxing. I wasn't grasping, I wasn't flailing, I wasn't worrying or fearful, I was just trying my best. No, I wasn't even trying my best, I was just doing.
And then I thought about life, and how ridiculous it is of me to think that there is is a way to do life, that I could figure out life. And then I thought about people, and interactions, and friendships, and relationships, and feelings and emotions and oh! No way! There is no way that I could figure that out. And nomrally, this would frustrate me and make me sad and make me think that I'm lame for not being able to do what I'm supposed to do with others. But I get it- ooop, darn it! I don't get it! Okay, let's just say that I'm beginning to understand that I just need to do this life, just live it, be present to it, make mistakes in it, apologize for them, but keep showing up and being who I am.
Beginner's Mind, no matter how long you've been practicing
This morning, as I walked into the zendo, I saw sheets of paper on a couple of cushions and thought, "Uh oh, ceremony coming...." But then I remembered that I had the day off so that even if there were a ceremony and I was trapped in the zendo for it, it didn't matter, I had nothing to be late for. It turns out that they were having a student intern ceremony (I think, I can't remember exactly what the Ino called it).
I didn't see any part of the ceremony, it took place immediately behind me because I was seated right next to the altar. But I could hear it, and it included each participant saying their full name (their dharma and their given name). It was quite lovely to hear the voices of the people whom I've known over the past year, feel each of their names solidify and fade in this quiet safe place where we've been sitting together. And then it ended with a firm wooden hit, the Ino saying, with this voice of forward motion, "Welcome... to Beginner's.. Mind.. Temple" and a final solid, wooden hit.
I liked the feeling of this final part, that even though many of the people in the ceremony had been practicing at the temple for months, they were just now being formally welcomed. I know, it sounds like "What, you gotta be here forever before you get welcomed?" but it wasn't like that. It was like 'You're here, you've kind of always been here, and you're welcome today in the same way as when you walked in the door the first day. You're always welcome and honestly, it's kind of always your first day."
After the ceremony, we went upstairs for service (bowing and chanting). Service is still confusing for me and so I often spend most of my time watching others, fumbling through the pages of the chant book, or listening for bells and doing my best to bow or turn with everyone. But this morning, we chanted a chant that I've never chanted before. I didn't know the tempo or even how to pronounce each syllable. I totally had to slow down and focus on each syllable, all the while listening intently to the people around me in order to both keep time with them and learn from them how to do this particular chant. Me...and how I was chanting... where I was... if I was doing it right...none of that was in my head. The only thing in my head was doing this chant. Not even doing it right, just doing it.
And I thought about how focused and present I was. How by doing something completely foreign to me, I was totally absorbed by it. It was like there wasn't any room for all those external thoughts that actually have nothing to do with the task in front of you. And I thought about how this is often how we approach things when we do them for the first time. We may be nervous about them ahead of time but often, at least for me, when something is new, I'm so busy with the newness of it that I don't have time or space to bring in all my anxieties or even my stories about how it should or shouldn't be done. This is often when we are most engaged, when something is new to us, when it's so encompassing in its essence that we don't have the energy to add stuff on to it.
And then I thought, "Oh, that's probably why Suzuki Roshi (or whoever came up with the name for this temple) called it Beginner's Mind Temple. That's kind of the way you want to approach life: as if its so brand new you can't help but experience only it."
I didn't see any part of the ceremony, it took place immediately behind me because I was seated right next to the altar. But I could hear it, and it included each participant saying their full name (their dharma and their given name). It was quite lovely to hear the voices of the people whom I've known over the past year, feel each of their names solidify and fade in this quiet safe place where we've been sitting together. And then it ended with a firm wooden hit, the Ino saying, with this voice of forward motion, "Welcome... to Beginner's.. Mind.. Temple" and a final solid, wooden hit.
I liked the feeling of this final part, that even though many of the people in the ceremony had been practicing at the temple for months, they were just now being formally welcomed. I know, it sounds like "What, you gotta be here forever before you get welcomed?" but it wasn't like that. It was like 'You're here, you've kind of always been here, and you're welcome today in the same way as when you walked in the door the first day. You're always welcome and honestly, it's kind of always your first day."
After the ceremony, we went upstairs for service (bowing and chanting). Service is still confusing for me and so I often spend most of my time watching others, fumbling through the pages of the chant book, or listening for bells and doing my best to bow or turn with everyone. But this morning, we chanted a chant that I've never chanted before. I didn't know the tempo or even how to pronounce each syllable. I totally had to slow down and focus on each syllable, all the while listening intently to the people around me in order to both keep time with them and learn from them how to do this particular chant. Me...and how I was chanting... where I was... if I was doing it right...none of that was in my head. The only thing in my head was doing this chant. Not even doing it right, just doing it.
And I thought about how focused and present I was. How by doing something completely foreign to me, I was totally absorbed by it. It was like there wasn't any room for all those external thoughts that actually have nothing to do with the task in front of you. And I thought about how this is often how we approach things when we do them for the first time. We may be nervous about them ahead of time but often, at least for me, when something is new, I'm so busy with the newness of it that I don't have time or space to bring in all my anxieties or even my stories about how it should or shouldn't be done. This is often when we are most engaged, when something is new to us, when it's so encompassing in its essence that we don't have the energy to add stuff on to it.
And then I thought, "Oh, that's probably why Suzuki Roshi (or whoever came up with the name for this temple) called it Beginner's Mind Temple. That's kind of the way you want to approach life: as if its so brand new you can't help but experience only it."
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