Beyond the Horizon

 

There is a saying in Buddhism that in the first year of practice, the Buddha is right before one's eyes. In the second year, he is in the distance. In the third year, he has disappeared over the horizon.

Upon beginning one's practice, it is fresh and exhilarating. People are enthusiastic about having found a system of learning and practice that makes so much sense. Family members begin to notice a change as the new practitioner becomes more patient and easy-going, and less irritable. 

In the second year, as the newness begins to wear off, even as one becomes more established in learning and practice, and more confident in the teachings, one begins to relax. All too often that relaxing is accompanied by distractions: other ways to meditate, other forms of learning, or often just other interests. The Buddha no longer feels close.

In the third year, for myriad reasons, the Buddha cannot even be seen on the horizon. The person who was so enthusiastic in the first year now rarely practices and has lost the feeling of contentment and accomplishment.   

In reality, the Buddha is always present. It is up to us whether we remain in his presence or turn away.

How are we ever going to change anything?

This leads to a bigger underlying issue for all of us: How are we ever going to change anything? How is there going to be less aggression in the universe rather than more? We can then bring it down to a more personal level: how do I learn to communicate with somebody who is hurting me or someone who is hurting a lot of people? How do I speak to someone so that some change actually occurs? How do I communicate so that the space opens up and both of us begin to touch in to some kind of basic intelligence that we all share? In a potentially violent encounter, how do I communicate so that neither of us becomes increasingly furious and aggressive? How do I communicate to the heart so that a stuck situation can ventilate? How do I communicate so that things that seem frozen, unworkable, and eternally aggressive begin to soften up, and some kind of compassionate exchange begins to happen?  

Well, it starts with being willing to feel what we are going through. It starts with being willing to have a compassionate relationship with the parts of ourselves that we feel are not worthy of existing on the planet. If we are willing through meditation to be mindful not only of what feels comfortable, but also of what pain feels like, if we even aspire to stay awake and open to what we're feeling, to recognize and acknowledge it as best we can in each moment, then something begins to change.

~ Pema Chodron

The Story of Stuff

Living simply and being happier. It's what we strive for in our practice.

 

But it's so easy to forget this goal, especially at this time of the year when the holiday shopping season is kicking into high gear.  But do you ever wonder what happens to the stuff from holidays past?

Find out in Free Range's new movie, The Story of Stuff with Annie Leonard.

The Story of Stuff will take you on an "enlightening" tour of our consumer-driven culture—from resource extraction to iPod incineration—exposing the real costs of our use-it and lose-it approach to stuff.

 

 

Rebirth in Every Moment

Rebirth does not relate just to past and future lifetimes. Every moment of our life we experience rebirth. Every day, we can begin anew through the thoughts we have. So even if we are still uncertain about "Rebirth," we can still see how it works within just one lifetime.

During Monday night's class, I read a short meditation to be done in the morning. Essentially, we pause before rising and consider how we want to spend our time that day: wisely or wastefully. We can consider the good things of the moment be they the sounds we hear in the early morning or the thoughts that arise. With positive thoughts thus reinforced, we will face the day in a better frame of mind.

By focusing our thoughts, we can positively direct them. By cheerfully greeting those we encounter as the day unfolds, we plant the seeds for happiness. We don't have to wait for these seeds to mature in some distant lifetime. When we smile, we feel better. Right away. Instant rebirth. Instant cause and effect.

One moment we didn't quite feel like smiling because we were wrapped up in replaying what happened yesterday or in worrying about what might happen tomorrow. But remembering that we had opted to be reborn that morning, we smile and our act of smiling manifests as happiness. And the happiness is shared as it is now felt by the one we smiled at.

Face each new day as a new beginning, a day in which to plant seeds and instantly receive some of the results.

Cinderella Returns

 

I've had a song from the 1957 television production of Cinderella playing in my head for most of the day. "Impossible things are happening every day," from the song named "Impossible." Rogers and Hammerstein wrote the musical for television. Only broadcast once, it was a live production, something that was the norm when I was growing up.

Periodically, my mother and I used to go in to New York City. We'd go for Broadway and off-Broadway shows, the Metropolitan Opera, the museums, and all the other wonderful things one could afford to do in the city in the 1950's and 60's.

Mom would usually buy me the musical sound track (on records in those days). She must have bought me Cinderella because a few night ago, I sat happily glued to the television, in the warm glow of happy memories, thinking how much Mom would have enjoyed watching this rebroadcast, the first one in fifty years. 

I say she must have bought the sound track because although it was only broadcast one time, I knew every song. By heart. Perfectly. Wow. Talk about long-term memory!

I listened to the sound track fifty years ago, and I still remember it so clearly.

We need to be careful of what we imprint on our minds. Fortunately for me, what I had imprinted that night fifty years ago watching television with my mother was a child's morality tale with wonderful music, each song more beautiful (or funny, like the "Stepsisters' Lament") than the previous one. The world today is sadly different from the one I grew up in. We need to be vigilant and choose those imprints carefully. We never know how long they will stay with us.