So far, so good. A lot of pain in my hips during 5:30 a.m. meditation, but I was able to maintain a natural half-smile, and more importantly, stillness. Thanks to the pain, I did not sleep while sitting -- that would have been impossible. On the way into the hall for Thay's daily dharma talk, I spotted the guy I'm calling "Rufus," the mystery angel Boddhisatva guy who silently gazed into me yesterday and rooted out my depression. I walked up behind him. I put my hand on his shoulder. He turned, smiled, and placed his hand on mine. I smiled back, lifted my index finger, and placed it on his. Then I found my seat. This time on the first try.
NOTES FROM DHARMA TALK BY THICH NHAT HANH
In your past life, you have been a tree, a rock, a squirrel, a river, a deer.
This is not a matter of belief, but rather of scientific fact.
We smile to all of these things and beings. We want to protect them, both inside and outside of us.
This is because we still are a tree, a rock, a squirrel, a river, a deer.
Just like a rose is a formation of a cloud, water, gardener, sun, and soil.
Fear, anger, distress, love, joy, are all but mental formations.
If you are angry, try this. While breathing in, recognize that your anger is there. When breathing out, smile to your anger. Don't repress it, and don't identify with it.
Your mind is like a living room. Sometimes guests arrive and sit down. Sometimes you realize that you don't like them, that you don't enjoy their company. Eventually they leave. And you vow to be more careful about the people you invite. Learning whom to invite is an art.
We often invite the wrong mental formations into our minds, sometimes without knowing it. For example, if we are lonely, we might turn on the television, to try to cover up our loneliness. Then we often nourish negative elements in our mind, inviting them in from the messages on television, making the situation worse.
If you cut off the nourishment for depression, the food for depression, it will die. Nothing can survive without nourishment.
REMAINS OF THE DAY
The good thing about hay fever attacks, when one is not on drugs, is how nice it feels when the attacks subside. I'm sitting in the Buddha Garden, wondering about Rufus, a/k/a smiley angel, who I know is somewhere nearby. I'd sort of like to chat with him, since we've both got an hour and twenty minutes to kill, before working meditation. But part of me says no, it would be so much more interesting for us to become best friends, but never speak even once. Tomorrow, during "Lazy Day" (when we have no organized activities, other than observing what we choose to do with the time), I'd like to take his hand and go for a walk. Perhaps a hug, maybe a kiss. I did not see anything in the rules about that.
Thoughts are turning to work, especially our India office. I'd love to collaborate with some of the more "spirtual" employees and develop some ecumenical mindfulness practices in the office. Bowing with folded hands before speaking, while in meetings in the conference room. 10 minutes of silence before every such meeting. Establishing a rule that every one pauses for a few seconds of silence, every time a phone rings. Maybe even group meditation at the start of each day. Daily deep relaxation sessions in the afternoon. Is this a power trip, or am I really wanting to help? I'll chalk it up to enthusiasm.
My old friend Gabriel, who stayed with me for a few weeks in Ireland, marveled at my ability to agonize over things. I liked what someone said in dharma discussion yesterday, as we went around the circle saying what "cows" we would like to release. He said, "One of my cows to release might be the concept that I have cows to release. I've spent so many years trying to improve myself, and I'm finding that it does not necessarily lead to improvement. I'm coming around to the idea that I should like myself as I am." Good for him. I would have to release a whole herd of cows to be in that state.
Working meditation was fun. Our assignment was to mindfully chop vegetables for dinner. Lots of laughs. After silencing us all with the bell a few times, the monk who was serving as work leader finally took my knife away, as punishment for incorrigible talking.
It is now near bedtime. Monks and a few lay people are now playing soccer, near my tent, in Summer's late twilight. Does a soccer game sound different when it is being played by Buddhists? Yes. More laughing. And more cheering. Because both teams cheer when anybody gets a goal, or blocks a goal.
"Your mind is like a living room. Sometimes guests arrive and sit down." Good saying!
Posted by: drug rehabilitation | September 05, 2006 at 09:00 PM