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I
remove a tiny pebble from my shoe. It is amazing how much happiness can result
from such a small action. It is very cold in this very early morning, both
outside and in the dining room. But it makes me all the more happy to be
holding and sipping hot chamomile tea.
Let’s
try an experiment today. No pursuit of attractive guys! Don’t even look at
them. Avoid them whenever reasonably possible. Did Gandhi really fill up his
bed with beautiful young female devotees, just as a test of discipline? Why on earth?
Today
is “Lazy Day,” meaning no schedule, other than meals and an hour or so of
working meditation. I remember dreading this when I first saw it on the
calendar. What would I do, without phone, email, or computer, and without any
friends here? Now I am grateful. Time to read “Old Path, White Clouds.” Time to
practice the Ashtanga yoga primary series! Time for an extra meditation
session, maybe even a long walk! Maybe even visit the monastery bookstore! It
is all so exciting. I am not being facetious.
I’m
reading about the care with which the Buddha selected his place of practice.
Thinking about putting some attention and care into my home. The sun is
starting to rise through the trees, illuminating leaves, as well as dandelion
feathers, floating on a breeze. Someone is playing a piano, gently, magically.
I’m sipping my third cup of chamomile tea. Life is good.
I had a
chilly, but nice and quiet meditation at 6am, earlier this morning. Then a nice, leisurely breakfast. No lines, no crowds, no worries about
the food running out.
After
tea, I leave Plum Village (something that is "discouraged"), for
the open road. Magnificent rolling hills on either side, bracing wind,
brilliant sun, lush greens in the vineyards, forests, pastures, and meadows. I
run out of walking meditation mantras (not really possible), so I try saying “I
have arrived, I am home” in French. I repeat, over and over, “J’ai arrive, je
suis un chateau, ” but it probably means “I have an arrival. I am a house.”
Back on
the monastery grounds, an older gay dharma teacher holds court with a bunch of
cute young guys, who are practically sitting at his feet. I remember my silly vow, and
quickly look the other way. Was that me in 10 years? Pathetic, or good? My pen
suddenly runs out of ink as I ask these questions, as if to tell me that they
are not worth asking.
I have
a great Ashtanga yoga session in the “Transformation Hall.” A little bit
shocked at how blatantly I want the other practitioners to appreciate what
little skill I do have. Why? Why? Why? Why on earth do I want anyone to see me
doing headstand? By the time most people leave, my practice becomes less
polluted. It becomes a major treat. My first full, unrushed, downright
luxurious practice in months. I should do this every day! Duh.
For
lazy working meditation, I am assigned to work with Reuben, whom I like very
much. He is a bit shaken to find out that I’m a lawyer. Since he dresses
somewhat conservatively, with a bit of a British buttoned-down look, I am even
more surprised to discover that he is a MIME CLOWN. So far, at the vegetable
chopping table, we’ve several professors, a priest, a pathologist, a gaggle of
lawyers, and a mime clown. And that is only in my chopping group.
THE
WORST LECTURE IN RECORDED HISTORY
In the
evening, I attend an optional presentation on “beginning anew.” The monk who
speaks means well. Unfortunately, it does not turn out well. The following is
essentially what he says, v – e – r – y s – l – o – w – l – y, and in a m
– o – n – o – t – o – n – e:
Beginning
Anew means to get in touch with your happiness. To do that, you must appreciate
that within suffering is happiness. Within suffering, there is happiness.
Within happiness, there is suffering. Within happiness, there is suffering.
Suffering contains happiness. Suffering contains happiness. Happiness contains
suffering. Happiness contains suffering. To start anew, you must first touch
your happiness. Happiness is present in suffering. Suffering is present in
Happiness. The key is happiness. Happiness is the key. You must touch your
happiness, to begin anew.
Repeat
three or four times, then go insane.
Someone
politely asks him if he would offer some practical examples of beginning anew,
but he simply restates the points above. When another person raises his hand
and prefaces his question with praise for the brother’s “wonderful talk,” I can
hardly take it any more. I begin to think I am trapped in a roomful of Stepford
Buddhists. The brother at the podium mentions, with some apparent satisfaction,
that he gave the same talk in Russia, where half the audience reportedly was in tears. By this time, I am actually seething with
anger. I want to stand up, raise my hand, and say, “Brother, don’t you know why
they were crying? Under the Geneva Convention, your lecture would qualify as
torture!” Instead, I walk out.
Actually,
I learned much from the experience. I learned how even the most trivial
inconvenience, such as having to sit for an hour without accomplishing anything
of so-called importance, can cause my time-driven, egotistical mind to become
enraged for no worthwhile reason. (There never is one.) I shared this in
our dharma discussion group the next day. Several lay people said they had an
experience similar to mine, while trying to endure the lecture. One of the
three monks in our group offered that it was important to “recognize” the
feelings that I expressed about the lecture. None of them expressed any such
feelings themselves. None said that they shared mine. But after dinner, one monk
called me aside, came close, and said to me very softly, “I want to thank you
for having the courage to say what you said. Please keep saying things like
that.” I wondered what “courage” had to do with it. Does not courage involve
being unafraid of bad consequences? What punishment was I risking? The monk
smiled and said again, “please, keep speaking up.”
The comments to this entry are closed.
Nice blog - I wondered if you were interested in knowing how to actually say "I have arrived, I am home" in French for the next time you are there?
'Je suis arrive, je suis chez moi' is correct.
What you actually said is equivalent to 'I have arrive, I am castle'. Which may be the case, but it isnt French.
Ho hum
Posted by: jake barnett | September 06, 2006 at 08:45 PM
A good dharma speech can set your thinking on fire and burn it completely down. A bad dharma speech can make you want to take your life. I enjoyed your blog.
Posted by: Algernon | September 06, 2006 at 11:06 PM
Yesterday a squirrel, today a castle..What next Dharma brother?:)
Posted by: susan | September 07, 2006 at 12:15 AM
Keep speaking up...... and keep writing your blog!!! Fantastic stuff, Russell, lots of stuff to think about so thanks for airing your thoughts and views.
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