Walk Like A Buddha

I have arrived.
I am home
in the here,
in the now.
I am solid.
I am free.
In the ultimate
I dwell. 

--From “Walk Like a Buddha” by Thich Nhat Hanh in Tricycle magazine, Summer 2011.

I am borrowing this quote from this week's Dear Soul Sisters' post entitled "Are We There Yet?" It's a good one if you always feel like you are WAITING for something. But also a good reminder that on the spiritual journey we are never "there," and always on our way to "there." 

Here's one of my favorite songs about waiting:

S-L-O-W-I-N-G D-O-W-N

"Slow down and agree to get less done. Every day take two things off of your "to do" list." 

--Anne Lamott

Last Thursday I showed up to dinner with a friend and the first thing she asked me was, "Are you okay?" 

My answer? "I don't think so."

Last week was a beast of a week and it culminated in that Thursday. Just sitting down to dinner and talking with a friend helped. 

That night I decided to go away for the weekend. The next morning I got online and looked up an old article in Seattle Woman Magazine that I remembered reading in 2009. It was about local retreat sites. 

I chose one, called up the owner and asked if I could come that afternoon. He said yes and off I went. 

Never has a place been so perfectly designed for retreating. Earth Sanctuary on Whidbey Island truly is a little bit of Heaven on Earth. 

Designed by Chuck Pettis, author of Secrets of Sacred Space, it is a wonderland of wonders. On this 72-acre nature preserve there are sacred spots at every turn: a labyrinth, Tibetan prayer wheels, a native American medicine wheel, prayer stones, stone circles and even a stupa. Each imbued with its own special energy. 

I walked. I prayed. I meditated. I slowed down. 

I also wrote, but not frantically, as I sometimes do in order to GET IT DONE so I can move on to the next thing. I wrote mindfully, purposefully, with passion and with love. 

And I made a promise to myself to do this more often. To take more breaks. To take more breaths. To get less done. 

I urge you this week to look at your own life. Where are you racing around like a chicken with your head cut off? Where are you frantic and frazzled? Take a break. Take a breath. Agree to get less done. 


[Here's another great article in the same vein from my Twitter friend Fiona: Writing Your Way Towards Slow]

The Moment Before Zero

“If zero is the place where the physical world begins then the moment before zero is the place of angels and demons, the starting point of the soul...Finding and returning to zero is a skill that cannot be underestimated...”

--Stephen Tobolowsky, "The Tobolowsky Files," episode 42

I am obsessed with a new (to me) podcast I discovered last week called "The Tobolowsky Files." In it legendary character actor (you probably won't recognize his name, but if you have ever gone to the movies, you WILL recognize his face) Stephen Tobolowsky tells stories from his life and career, but with a decidedly spiritual twist. 

It was episode 42 (entitled "The Moment Before Zero") that made me fall in love with this podcast, and just a little bit with Stephen Tobolowsky. 

On one level he is talking about acting. How the actor must always "return to zero" after every take so as not to display the naturally ensuing emotion of the scene before the action takes place. On another level he is talking about nothing short of the creation of the universe. 

Let me see if I can get this right: according to Stephen, if the Big Bang Theory is correct and there was a moment in time in which the Universe and everything in it (or at the very least the potential for everything in it) was created then there must have been a moment BEFORE that moment - the moment before zero. 

This is the moment, he says, "of magic and imagination" and "the place of angels and demons." 

As I sat there listening for the first time I had no idea who this man was or even what his name was, but all I could think was, "I am in the presence of genius." I was so enraptured with this idea that it was, very simply for me, a moment before zero. 

This is the place that I am searching for. The moment BEFORE the mind kicks in and starts THINKING about things, the moment of pure experience, true joy, unadulterated living. 

It is that moment in meditation when you forget yourself, "the gap" that sometimes opens up in your mind when you are in that pure state of just BEING. 

The moment before zero is a holy place, a sacred place, a place of angels and demons and sometimes, if we are very lucky, of mere mortals as well. 

I encourage you to try The Tobolowsky Files and see what you think. I also encourage you to find your own "moment before zero" as often as you can.

[Tomorrow on Dear Soul Sisters we attempt to answer the question, "Why are we here?" And talk even more about Stephen Tobolowsky and "the moment before zero." ]

Remain Aware

"Remain aware of the wonders around you."

--Caryl Sherpa, author of I taste fire, earth, rain: elements of a life with a Sherpa

My life has been so full of juicy, memorable quotes as of late that I am having trouble choosing one for today. There are so many things I want to write about, talk about, blog about, think about, that I just can't decide where to begin.

I got this quote at a book release party that I went to with my mom kind of on a whim. We wanted to do something to celebrate Mother's Day together and there were three or four interesting events happening on the evening that we chose. This one fit our time frame the best, so we went, even though we knew nothing about the author or the book.

It was an enchanted evening from start to finish.

As we arrived, we were greeted by her husband (the sherpa in the title of the book) who handed us a cup of Nepali chai. Not usually one for chai, I hesitated before taking a sip. Then, "Ah-h-h-h-h...."

The chai was hot, sweet, creamy and absolutely delicious. I drank the whole cup, savoring every sip and was disappointed to find that it was gone when I went back later that evening for more.

Next there was dancing, by some of her Nepali friends. It was not polished or professional, but it was real and sweet like the chai.

Soon after, the reading started and Caryl told us her story of travelling to distant lands in search of she didn't know quite what and finding it in a faraway place and in the soul of a man she could not have expected.

After the reading she brought up everyone who had helped her get the book published and thanked them with a prayer shawl and a gift. It was a shower of gratitude and the splatters of appreciation rained down on all of us.

She ended the evening with this quote, asking each of us to remain aware of the wonders around us. To never forget that life is full of beauty.

Soon thereafter I joined the river of stones and I have found this to be an exciting and profound experience of remaining aware. I can't wait each day to see what stone will ding the windshield of my life and I am always delighted when it hits me.

I hope you will remain aware of the wonders around YOU this week!

Small Stones

"Don't wait for the rain to stop. Climb out of your tent with your mind engaged and your senses ablaze and let the rain pour into you." 

--Kathleen Dean Moore 

Happy 1st of July! Today is what I think of as the "official" first day of summer. June is just tying up loose ends, but July is when SUMMER truly begins!

To kick it off - and hopefully make it last - I have joined an online community writing project called River of Stones. 

Facilitated by a groovy Buddhist writer chick and her husband, this project is designed to get you noticing what is going on in your world AND writing about it. 

A "small stone" is "a very short piece of writing that precisely captures a fully-engaged moment." So to write one you not only have to be writing, you have to be "fully engaging" with life. What a wonderful concept! 

If you would like more information, or would like to join the river click on the badge below to learn more. 

 

Here is a link to my "small stones" blog and my first attempt: 

http://pebblesaresmallstones.blogspot.com/

Juggling Time

"This is your life. Right now." 

--Tyrone Giordano as Graham Martin in A Lot Like Love. 

You have no idea just how much time kids take until you have one. As a pregnant woman I had this idea that my life would go on pretty much as it had before, except I would have this cute little person to share my days with (oh, and I'd have to change the occasional diaper of course). O.M.G. Not exactly.

Every day since the birth of my first son I have felt like someone trying to juggle time - talk about impossible! - trying to squeeze MY life in in between diaper changes and dolling out fish crackers.  

As I walked home from dropping them off on the last day of school last week that old feeling of "no more time" hit me and my stomach sank. How would I get anything done this summer? Writing? Cleaning? Exercising? Grocery shopping?

But I stopped myself, brought myself back to the moment and remembered this quote. 

I find it helpful to repeat it to myself the same way our junior high school Latin teacher Mr Lynch made us repeat sentences to help us learn about grammar, by placing emphasis on a different word each time you say it: 

THIS is my life 

This IS my life. 

This is MY life.  

This is my LIFE. 

Every moment is my life. Even the moments I am sharing with someone else when I might prefer to be alone. (Maybe especially those moments....) 

Yes, alone time is going to be hard to come by this summer. I am going to have to write, clean, exercise, and even grocery shop (the horror!) with my children. But in each of these moments there are lessons to be learned and life to be lived and joy to be had. 

Before I know it, it will be fall and they will be going off to school again. And then to college and then to THEIR lives. 

And I will miss lazy summer mornings snuggling on the couch reading a good book with my boys. I will miss playing two square on the sidewalk and pitching balls in the backyard. I will even miss taking them to the grocery store (though maybe not quite as much). 

And I will regret the moments that I had with them when I was wishing I was somewhere else, doing something else. 

It reminds me of a story from Care of the Soul : A Guide for Cultivating Depth and Sacredness in Everyday Life by Thomas Moore:

"A man came to me depressed and completely dissatisfied with his job. He had been working in a manufacturing shop for ten years, and all that time he planned his escape. He was going to go to school and enter a profession that he liked. But while he planned and kept his mind continually on his escape, his work in the shop suffered. Years went by and he was always dissatisfied, hating his job and wishing for the promised land of his ambitions. 'Have you ever thought,' I asked him one day, 'of being where you are, of entering fully this job that you're putting your time and energy into?' 'It's not worth it,' he said. 'It's beneath me. A robot could do it better.' 'But you do it every day,' I observed. 'And you do it badly, and you feel bad about yourself for doing it badly.' 'You're saying,' he said incredulously, 'that I should go to the stupid job as if my heart were in it?' 'You're in it, aren't you?' He came back in a week to say that something had changed in him as he began to take his 'stupid' job more seriously. It seemed that by entering his fate and emotions he might begin to taste his life...."

Every moment we are on this planet is an opportunity to taste our lives and every moment we spend wishing things were somehow different is an opportunity missed. 

Every attempt at juggling time, misses the point completely.

Where I Was

"BE WHERE YOU ARE."

--The Universe

Sometimes this is easier said than done, and sometimes it is easy. 

Last weekend we went away with a few Boy Scout families to the snow. Packing up was not easy, getting the heck out of Dodge was not easy, being there with 50 people we didn't really know that well was not easy, getting home across the pass was not easy. 

Thankfully though, on Saturday I was able to spend 90 blissful minutes in the woods, alone, on cross country skis. 

Some moments, some places, some times make it almost impossible not to be where you are. 

I found being out in the snowy woods all alone to be one of those times. It was so quiet, so peaceful, so incredibly beautiful, that I just couldn't help but take it all in. 

Here are three beautiful things from my time in the woods last weekend:

1) Frozen water in a ditch looks like a small gray pond surrounded by snow;

2) The sound of snowflakes hitting the electric wires, somewhere between a zap and a ping;

3) Lying in the middle of the cross country ski trail after a fall and finding myself in a circle of snow-covered trees swaying in the wind.