Small part of my brain

There's a small part of my brain that will sometimes stop silently observing and ask "What are you doing?"
"I'm thinking about a mean thing that I said."
"No, what are you doing?"
"I'm feeling shame and sadness."
"No, what are you doing?"
"I'm sweeping the floor."
"Is there anything wrong with sweeping the floor?"
"Well, no."
"Then just sweep the floor."
And then it goes back to its place.

The Here and Now

In the present moment I am practicing. In the present moment I am myself. In the present moment I am aware that it is the only moment.

Grammar aside

The fifth precept

Using intoxicants to alter your state of consciousness is like a group of children in the woods complaining of boredom.

Just open your eyes and look around.

When all else fails...

Love, love, and love some more.

Love without expectation from others, and have no other expectation of yourself but to be loving.

The things that I like

I have to make a list because sometimes I honestly don't know.

I like to feel the energy of the world. I like to give and create more than I take and consume. I like to be aware and present and understanding. I like to learn and experience and shape my worldview.

Live music.
Hugs.
Painting.
Tattoos.
Walking in the woods.
Caring for the sick.
Holding new babies.
Being with women in childbirth.
Writing from the heart.
Listening to passionate people.
New foods.
Travel.
Baking.
Dancing.
Laying on the ground.
Looking at the sky.
Laughing.

Tonglen for Today

"Breathe in the pain and the blame, 
breathe out the undoing of harm. 
Breathe in taking full responsibility, 
breathe out the compassionate radiance of healing, forgiveness, and reconciliation."


(from http://www.naljorprisondharmaservice.org/pdf/Tonglen.htm)

Metta

There's not a whole lot we can easily change in the universe, especially the people we share it with. All we can do is love it, and them, anyway.

A simplified metta meditation, easy enough for children to understand.

(To myself)
May I be happy.
May I be at peace.
May I do my very best work.

(To my family)
May you be happy.
May you be at peace.
May you do your very best work.

(To the world)
May we be happy.
May we be at peace.
May we do our very best work.

Just ripples on the water

 

If I have to make a ripple, let me be a rock. 

(Image from http://a-ripple-in-the-pond.blogspot.com/)

Cabin in the Woods

I've often dreamed of a cabin in the woods. Solitude. Escape. Self-sufficiency. Being. I can see the wood panels of the sides and the door and the roof. The dripping of the old glass. The trees that bow down in silent acceptance and welcoming, allowing foot trails and paths to come between them and lead the way to the places it's possible to go. A fireplace inside. A rocking chair. Warmth. Simplicity.

There are times I've wanted to leave. To run away. If I could just drive a certain distance, I could be there. I could cut all ties to other attachments. My cabin could be. Simplicity and comfort and contentedness would come to me.

But that is not the way.

There is no where to drive.
There is no where to walk.
There is no address.

My cabin is.


My cabin in the woods is the whisper of trees as they release their leaves to nourish their roots. It is my mother taking cookies out of the oven as I come in from a rainy bus trip home from school. It is seeing past the coal of the shipyards to the pink-golden sunset on the river. It is not running away and shutting out the world but taking it in and loving it anyway. It is exploding over and over again in every fraction of a second, particles exchanging and sharing and dancing a cosmic dance - and in those moments feeling only being and oneness and wholeness. It is realizing the miracle. It is golden birch trees lining a pebble lined stream where I hold my child and whisper to her "This is always here."

I can imagine and even almost feel its physical structure- my cabin's ancient boards, knotted rugs, and quilts heavy with love and hand-stitched care- but I now know that my cabin is not corporeal. It doesn't stand. It is within.

My cabin in the woods is a split second of pure peace.
It is home.