Lojong Cards and Booklet

Lojong Cards and Booklet
This self-published deck and booklet are the intellectual property of Beverly King. Please do not copy or reproduce any photos or blog posts without permission.
Showing posts with label slogan fifty-three. Show all posts
Showing posts with label slogan fifty-three. Show all posts

Monday, January 16, 2017

Don't vacillate.

Photo by Philip Lax

          In nearly every magazine for birders, there are ads for squirrel-proof feeders and squirrel deterrents such as baffles. Google “how to keep squirrels off feeders,” and thousands of homemade solutions will appear. Some folks suggest putting cayenne pepper in with the seeds or substituting safflower for sunflower seeds. Others grease their poles, install a piece of aluminum duct on the pole or use a slick pvc pipe as a pole to keep squirrels from climbing up. One of the latest solutions is to wrap a dangling Slinky toy around the pole. Some of the more desperate birders have even built a wire cage around their feeders. Most people who have enjoyed feeding the birds for a long time simply give up, knowing that squirrels are both persistent and smart. They will keep trying until they figure a way around any solution folks come up with. The slogan “Don’t vacillate” encourages us to be just as one-pointed in our spiritual focus as squirrels are at getting to the seeds in feeders. Small periods of practice on a daily basis will provide more benefits than a demanding practice done only occasionally. We may have to get crafty like the squirrel and find innovative ways to make time for practice, but the main point is to keep at it.

Cramming all our practice into intensive periods and then falling back into worldly life will bear far less fruit than doing small amounts of practice consistently over the long haul. ~ Traleg Kyabgon

For more information on the fifty-third slogan, go here.




Sunday, November 1, 2015

Slogan Fifty-three

Don’t vacillate.
From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:
            For those of us who are gardeners, we know the frustration of finding a ripe, delicious vegetable or fruit nibbled on by a bird or animal. They never seem to eat all of it, just a few bites before leaving it abandoned on the ground. We may respond to lojong the same way. Our first introduction may leave us excited and enthusiastic, but then work, family matters, hobbies or social activities may distract us. Soon we’ve forgotten about our intention to practice. Eventually though, we experience enough suffering that we are reminded of our spiritual commitment. We start out passionate about our practice once again, yet sooner or later those same disruptions or diversions veer us off track. We may keep repeating this cycle over and over, possibly coming to the conclusion that lojong is not useful at all. We fail to realize our lack of steady practice was what produced no long-term results. Even small, consistent amounts of practice are better than intense periods followed by nothing. The cumulative effects of lojong will be realized when we train on a regular basis.
Photo: A pear partially eaten and discarded by a squirrel.

          By 1950, 70% of American homes enjoyed hot and cold running water. It was a wonderful bathing improvement, unless someone took an extended hot shower. All the heated water would quickly be used up, leaving only cold water available for the next person. It would take time for the water to reheat again. I’ve often practiced in the same unbalanced way – full of heat to begin with which soon turned cold. My over-the-top enthusiasm would create impossible standards that were difficult to maintain. I might decide, for instance, that I’d meditate an hour each morning and an hour each evening without fail. But as soon as an unexpected event threw my schedule out of kilter, I was ready to chuck everything. As months passed, I might pick it up again with the same fervor only to have it disrupted again. This type of “all or nothing” thinking has never produced a steady, consistent practice for me. For that I need to temper my excitement with a more realistic approach – neither hot nor cold but warm.