Examine the nature of unborn awareness.

Photo from Planetden.com

          Salar de Uyrini, found in southwestern Bolivia, is the world's largest salt flat. As one of the most level places on earth, it becomes a liquid mirror during the rainy season. Before the photographer took the magnificent photo above, there was a brief moment when he was aware of the scene without any any analysis or speculation. It was pure awareness, untouched by definitions, labels or categories. This natural awareness is always there in everyone. I'm sure it was only a split second in the photographer's mind before a running commentary started about choosing the right lens to capture such a fantastic image of land and sky. Created awareness (as opposed to natural awareness) is filled with dualistic, discursive thought. I liken it to a mirror that should accurately reflect back reality but can't, because I've covered the surface with Post-it notes. Unconcerned with just noticing what's there, these notes separate things into groups such as pleasant/unpleasant, same/different and you/me. Yet natural awareness can be found in meditation; it is what notices I'm narrating a story instead of focusing on the breath. It's that gap of clarity, and this slogan tells me to pay attention to it.  

For more information on the third slogan, go here.

Regard all experiences as dreams.

Photo by Ellen Barcel

I recently discovered a new form of graffiti called yarn bombing. Colorful knitted or crocheted blocks of yarn are used to cover public objects, such as trees, statues and posts. It made me think of what happens in my mind when I meditate. First, I am completely focused on the breath; thoughts may float by, but I don’t get snagged by any of them. But then “Something Important” passes through my head – usually a thought about the past or the future. I take that thought and start crocheting madly around it, forming a colorful story that is usually filled with emotional energy. Eventually I recognize I’m not following my breath, and I snap back into the present moment. I suddenly realize what felt so real during my discursive thought was only a mental creation. Waking up from those thoughts and feelings are, as the second slogan states, like waking up from a dream. Knitting such stories, whether in meditation or during daily activities, leaves very few gaps of space to see from a larger perspective. Yet seeing them as vibrant, imaginative fantasies reminds me that what I create in my mind does not necessarily make them real. 

For more information on the second slogan, go here.

First, train in the preliminaries.

Photo from Bird Watchers' Digest

          I was reading last night about the reason some folks put out eggshells for the birds, particularly during the late winter and spring months. The calcium carbonate found in the shell is particularly important as a nutrient for female birds. Their own eggshells are made up of about 95% of this supplement; when they don't get enough, it can negatively affect the survival rate of their chicks. Likewise, the Four Reflections could be considered the necessary vitamins required for a beginning practice. If I don't grasp these basic ideas - the preciousness and impermanence of life, that thoughts and actions produce effects, and that suffering is created by a search for security - it is doubtful my training will be very beneficial or lasting. I'll fail to see the part I play in the painful patterns of my life, and my habits will become like a washing machine forever stuck in a wash, rinse, and repeat cycle. Adopting such ideas may not be as tasty as a slice of illusion, but these principles can become my keys to clarity, allowing me to see the truth of reality.

For more information on the first slogan, go here.

Slogan Fifty-nine

Don’t expect applause.

From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:

            Throughout lojong practice, our actions are done with the purpose of benefiting all beings. Yet we humans find it hard not to have expectations for what we do; we seek approval, thanks, recognition or some sort of repayment (your scratch my back, I'll scratch yours). If we don't receive what we expect, we get huffy and feel justified in our resentment, effectively canceling out any intrinsic good feelings. But spiritual practice is done for its own sake and should be its own reward. Instead of expecting, we can be curious or inquisitive as we watch to see what unfolds. Pema Chodron explains, "We can begin to open our hearts to others when we have no hope of getting anything back."

Photo: A stack of pyrite (fool’s gold) nuggets.

            During the first year of my marriage, I worked at a federal lab that tested peanuts for aflatoxin. It wasn’t uncommon for us to work 11 or 12 hour days, especially during harvest time. I came home tired every weekday and had little energy for domestic tasks other than cooking supper for my husband and two stepsons. What I didn’t realize before I got married was how well my husband and his boys could tolerate dirt and clutter. I’d just assumed that once it got bad enough, they would naturally want to tidy things up. That supposition didn’t materialize. Living in such disorder makes me feel stressed, so I would drag myself out of bed on the weekends and clean house. It was a wonderful feeling when I was finished, yet no one seemed to notice but me. Pema Chodron once said, “I find out a lot about myself from what insults me.” And insulted was exactly how I felt! Yet if I’m honest, I’ll admit that what I did benefited me more than them. In the same way, my spiritual practice and any kind deeds I do may be of use to others, but ultimately I am the one who profits. No praise or thanks is necessary.

Slogan Fifty-eight

Don’t be frivolous.

From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:

            This slogan cautions us to be aware of how we spend our time and energy. We don’t have an endless supply of either, so we should make sure what we do with these resources is worthwhile. Our contemporary society has created a multitude of methods with which to distract ourselves. As an example, we may mindlessly surf the internet or flip channels on the television.  We don’t have to give up our lighthearted fun, but we do need to be paying attention. The difference between frivolity and play is how we feel afterward. Frivolity leaves us feeling restless and unsatisfied, while the result of play is a feeling of contentment.

Photo: A double-bloom daylily whose flowers only last for one day.

            I love the red clay of Georgia’s soil, except on laundry day or after a hard rain. On dirt roads and in fields, it’s easy for a vehicle to get bogged down when the ground is waterlogged. Tires will spin and spin but won’t go anywhere, and acceleration just makes it worse. The problem is traction; without friction, the tire can’t adhere to the ground and move the vehicle forward. Whether at work or play, I can spin my tires to avoid attending to what’s truly important. I might fill my day with doing good deeds, laboring to achieve a task or chasing the next pleasure. However, if the purpose underlying my busyness is distraction, then I’m doing myself a disservice. I need to wedge something beneath me for traction – hopefully a meditation cushion.

Slogan Fifty-seven

Don’t be jealous.

            Jealousy makes us prickly, irritable and full of resentment. It constricts our hearts and causes us to become more self-absorbed. We feel sure we’ve gotten a raw deal, that we are more deserving than another person. Whether we should have received a reward or commendation is not the issue; the reaction it produces in us is what is important. When we’ve become caught in this emotional trap, Norman Fischer recommends we respond with “sympathetic joy.” Can we imagine how we would feel in this person’s shoes? When we celebrate their happiness as if it were our own, we cultivate loving-kindness and weed out jealousy.

Photo: A cactus leans away from a begonia flower.

            My grandmother, who was born in 1896, wore a girdle her entire adult life. Even with the advent of pantyhose, she adamantly refused to give up her girdle. Though she wore it to shape her body, I couldn’t imagine wearing something so tight and constrictive even for a well-formed figure. In a sense, envy can squeeze my mind and heart into an unnatural shape too. It changes my perception and encourages me label myself and others as either “superior” or “inferior.” My thinking becomes rigid instead of flexible, and I begin to see the “haves” as unfriendly competitors. Any possibility of cooperative effort gets squashed. Instead of constructively using an unmet goal as motivation to work toward something, envy transforms it into a troubling emotion – a resentful feeling that sees the person who has what is desired as undeserving of it. Such jealousy affects me in a negative way that may not be readily apparent. The last line from one of Rumi’s poems offers a glimpse: “Jealousy won’t let me scatter the perfume to the wind.” Envy keeps my compassion hermetically sealed, preventing it from benefiting anyone, even myself.

Slogan Fifty-six

Don’t wallow in self-pity.

From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:

            There is a spiritual recorded by Sam Cooke and others that begins, “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen; nobody knows my sorrow.” This is precisely what our ego would like us to believe: we are special because no one suffers like we do and so could never imagine the pain we’re going through. When we are filled with self-pity, it isn’t because we are experiencing a difficult situation. It results from thinking that we have it far worse than anyone else. But we do have companions in this journey of life who share the same emotional joys and sorrows we do. The practice of tonglen permits us to take the misery we are feeling and focus on the thousands of other people who are at that moment experiencing the same pain. By breathing in the suffering of all and breathing out peace and comfort to all, we remember we are not alone. We reawaken our compassion and see the larger reality of life.

Photo: A battered Pearl Crescent butterfly in its last phase of life rests on a lantana shrub.

            The following meditation is my personal way of doing tonglen, a tool that helps me move away from self-absorption and toward a concern for the welfare of others:

Take a slow, gentle breath with a relaxed belly. Let the tension in your body melt as your muscles relax. Notice the weight of your body as it relaxes and the sensation of the chair as it supports you. Now imagine lying in a grassy meadow on a soft blanket. It is calm and peaceful here with nothing to disturb you. The sky above is a beautiful shade of blue; a few wispy, white clouds shade you from the glare of the sun. As you gaze upward, sense the spaciousness and freedom of the sky; it is much like the natural openness of your moment-to-moment awareness.

Now bring to mind what is presently causing you pain, whether it is emotional or physical. You may need to visualize the story around it to experience it fully. Begin to move your focus to the physical sensations this suffering causes in your body; explore the intensity and location of it. As you breathe in, notice how these feelings seem to constrict your heart and mind, how small it makes your world. With your next exhalation release this pain outward into the sky, as you say to yourself, “May I be free of the root of this suffering. May I find comfort and happiness.” Continue to breathe in as you gather your pain, and breathe out as you release it. If you have a spiritual mentor or a god of your own understanding, you might imagine them in your heart transforming your pain to joy. “May I be free of the root of this suffering. May I find comfort and happiness.”

As your heart begins to feel more open, remind yourself “Other people feel this too.” Whatever pain or suffering you’ve been experiencing; many others are going through the same kind of feeling. As you breathe in, reach out mentally to those who are suffering like you, with a desire to remove their pain. As you breathe out, say silently to yourself, “May you be free of the root of this suffering. May you find comfort and happiness.” As you send out these wishes, you might imagine people who are smiling and laughing. Again you may envision a mentor or spiritual being in your heart who transforms their pain. Continue for a moment to reach out to these people and send them joy. “May you be free of the root of this suffering. May you find comfort and happiness.”

Now think of something for which you are grateful. It may be as simple as a smile or a kind word. It may be for a friend or partner who has been supportive of you, or it may involve having a moment to enjoy the beauty of nature around you. Visualize this moment or person, and then gradually move your focus to your body. Does such gratitude warm and expand your heart? As you breathe in, focus on this sensation. As you enjoy this feeling, remind yourself, “Other people deserve to feel this too.” As you breathe out, send out a desire for others to feel such joy, saying “May your heart be filled with joy. May you be cheerful and carefree.”