Slogan Forty-two

Whichever of the two occurs, be patient.

From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:
            Some days we drag our feet, feeling like an overloaded mule burdened with stress, worries and obligations. Other days we are full of energy, enjoying the spacious freedom of a wild mustang as it races across the open plain. When we feel like a mule, we may excuse ourselves from practice saying, “When I don’t have so much drama going on, I’ll get back to it.” When we feel like the mustang, we reason that life has to slow down before we can find time to squeeze in our practice. Either way, the intensity of life wraps itself around us, and we lose our bearings. Instead of waiting for conditions to be just right, this slogan encourages us to be steady and consistent no matter what is going on. When things are going great, they’ll eventually change; when things are awful, they’ll change sooner or later too. Our spiritual practice helps us meet the ups and downs with patience, a patience that is not passive but allows us to meet what comes courageously and creatively.

Photo: A peach pit and a slice of peach on a sweet potato vine leaf.

            When I first began studying this slogan, I thought of a phrase used to describe life when it wasn't unfolding as desired: “the pits.” Being from Georgia, this expression prompted me to compare the sweet, juicy flesh of a peach with its rough, hard pit. No matter which part of life I’m currently experiencing – the pleasant, sweet side or the unpleasant, rough side – it will change in time like the natural cycle of a growing season. The fertilized peach blossom produces a fruit, which eventually ripens then rots, and then leaves behind a pit that holds the potential for a new peach tree. If I can patiently maintain my spiritual practice, I won’t become obsessed no matter which part of the peach is on my plate. 

Slogan Forty-one

Two activities: one at the beginning, one at the end.

From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:
            Before our feet even hit the floor in the morning, our mind is busy with our plans of the day. By evening, after a day full of activities, all we want to do is crawl back into our bed and get a good night sleep. But this slogan suggests we use two bookends to support our day – a reminder of our practice in the morning and a review of it in the evening. We begin with the intention that we will think, speak and act mindfully and with an open heart; we dedicate what we will do in the hours ahead to the benefit of others. This activity helps us start our day in a calm, positive frame of mind. At night, we look objectively at the places we stayed firm and the places we slipped in our dedication. We don’t use the assessment to beat ourselves up or brag, but to help us make progress – each day is only a small part of a training period. Our review allows us to unload the stress of the day and view our actions with clarity. Both activities can lift our spirits and encourage us in sustaining our practice.

Photo: Two pine cones with a pile of shredded cone debris (created by squirrels eating the seeds out of green cones).

            I've got a stack of books to read on my bedside table. Some are purely for pleasure reading, one is for the book club, a few are for learning about interests of mine, and several are for spiritual contemplation and growth. When I bought them, my intention was to read every page of each one. Of course the easy-to-read novels I've almost finished; a few books with a more difficult or technical subject, I'm barely past the introduction. Yet reading and understanding just a few pages a day is progress, no matter how slow. None of them are library books, so I don't need to finish them within a certain time-frame. Likewise, as I begin my day with the aspiration to let the lojong slogans guide my thoughts and actions, I don't need to berate myself for less than perfect results. There is a phrase used in twelve-step groups that encourages "progress not perfection." My mistakes can be used to help me see more clearly how to change and what to do differently. They are only the few pages left to turn, until I reach the next chapter. 

Slogan Forty

Correct all wrongs with one intention.

From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:
            On the Appalachian Trail in the eastern U.S., white paint blazes are painted on trees, rocks and posts to mark the trail. It is suggested that if hikers go more than a quarter of a mile without seeing a blaze, they should turn around to avoid getting lost. As we travel along on our spiritual journey, we will meet both internal and external obstacles. Emotional or physical struggles may cause us to become disillusioned with our practice, wondering if what we're doing even matters. During these challenges, how can we keep from losing our way? What can help us stay connected to our practice? We can remember that other people suffer just as we do, and we can reaffirm our intention to be of service to them. The way out of spiraling self-concern is through our dedication to assist all beings.

Photo: A wire basket prevents a green pepper plant from flopping over as it grows.

            During the fall, the fair comes to our town. When I was a teenager, I always rode the Round Up, an amusement ride with a shape similar to a wheel that had open, cage-like sides on the rim. The ride would spin round and round until centrifugal force pushed riders into the cage wall. It would then tilt vertically, with nothing but the centrifugal force holding the riders in place. When life presents me with challenges that feel devastating or overwhelming, my self-concern can keep me stuck as if I were on a never-ending ride of the Round Up. The "off" lever gets pulled when my self-preoccupation is replaced by gentle compassion directed outward, as I realize other people suffer as I do. My willingness to be of benefit to them can help me get my bearings once again.

Slogan Thirty-nine

All activities should be done with one intention.

From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:

            What thread runs through all of our daily activities? What motivation is behind our goals, projects and efforts? Usually our intention is centered on getting what we desire. We look to reward ourselves first before being concerned about anyone else. However, lojong involves a commitment to gentleness along with a willingness to benefit others – the essence of the bodhisattva vow. There’s no need to wage war on our ego, because this consideration means we are also compassionate toward ourselves. But instead of thinking only from a self-centered perspective, we can maintain a spirit of benevolence. Even the simple act of eating can be dedicated to other people, as we intend its use to help us reach out with loving-kindness.

Photo: A Virginia creeper clings to the trunk of a pine tree.

            Mentally make a list of all your weekly activities, including people with whom you interact, hobbies and obligations. Now imagine choosing a bead for each item on the list, possibly using shape, color or design to represent each one. If you were going to string all those beads to make a necklace, you would have to choose a strong fiber so it wouldn’t break with the weight. Slogan thirty-nine suggests that we use the sturdy thread of bodhicitta, the desire for an awakened mind. This longing has at its essence loving-kindness; we wish to alleviate everyone’s suffering, including our own. Pema Chodron related this story:

When I was about six years old I received the essential bodhichitta teaching from an old woman sitting in the sun. I was walking by her house one day feeling lonely, unloved and mad, kicking anything I could find. Laughing, she said to me, “Little girl, don’t you go letting life harden your heart.” Right there, I received this pith instruction: we can let the circumstances of our lives harden us so that we become increasingly resentful and afraid, or we can let them soften us and make us kinder and more open to what scares us. We always have this choice. 

Slogan Thirty-eight

Don’t seek others’ pain as the limbs of your own happiness.

From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:

            Seeking happiness at the expense of others is a common characteristic of humans. Instead of concern, we feel gratified that someone else has worse problems than we do. We are secretly thrilled when a person we dislike faces misfortune, because we believe he or she deserves it. When someone loses, we are delighted if that increases our chances at winning. Yet if something wonderful happens to our adversary, we become upset; the memories of past hurts haunt us. These reactions are built on the idea that we can find joy through the suffering of other people. But such reasoning is flawed and contrary to the purpose of lojong practice. Trying to wrest happiness from such external events will only leave us feeling empty and depressed. If we allow it, compassion can teach us happiness is self-generating through acts of benevolence.

Photo: A squashed crape myrtle blossom run over by a car.

            When I was in middle school, I met Rita; I was an introvert, and she was extremely shy. We developed a deep friendship, finding a freedom in fully trusting each other. But as it turned out, she was one of those late bloomers who gained self-confidence as she got older. In high school she became a cheerleader and found a whole new set of friends. It wasn’t that Rita became snobby or mean; her time schedule just didn't allow her any free time for us to hang out. I was resentful of her new popularity status and the life she now led. If I learned she and a boyfriend had broken up or that she struggled in a particular class, I was delighted. But when something good happened to her, it made me burn with envy and anger. Have you ever seen a dog choke collar that tightens around the neck if pulled? I lived my life that way with her unknowingly holding the leash. I was miserable until I finally took responsibility for my own joy. What a relief it was to realize I could take off that collar!

Slogan Thirty-seven

Don’t make gods into demons.

From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:

            If we start an exercise program, we might initially be very enthusiastic about it. We go out and buy special equipment or clothes and plan the days and times we’ll practice. But when we get around to actually exercising, we may discover it’s not as much fun as we thought it would be. We soon slack off our schedule or decide we’ll only do our favorite workouts, ignoring the ones that are hard. Our spiritual training can also follow the same path, as we are at first eager but then find some parts unpleasant or unsatisfying. At this point, we’ve turned our “gods” into “demons.” Yet our purpose is to transform our minds not coddle our egos by doing what is easy or makes us look good. We need to apply medicine where the injury is, regardless of whether it is comfortable or not.

Photo: Two halves of the same apple, one beginning to brown due to oxidation.

When I decided to give yoga a try, I was lucky to find a wonderful teacher. Carlanda had a studio in her home and a loyal group of students. She not only taught us the postures and breathing techniques but the philosophy behind yoga as well. We had an amicable, easygoing group, and I soon developed several friendships. After enjoying her classes for many years, Carlanda moved and our group disbanded. For several months I decided to do yoga on my own, but I missed the camaraderie. An acquaintance told me of a new yoga group that had started; the classes were reasonably priced so I signed up. The teacher was well trained and knowledgeable, but she led an intensive flow of postures that was demanding. After attending several classes that pushed me out of my comfort zone, I began grumbling. "Those other women in their expensive outfits must think this is a fashion show." I griped about the hardwood floors hurting my knees and the other students being clannish. What had happened to my original love for and dedication to yoga? Because the new class was more challenging, I was looking for an excuse to quit. The "god" had been made into a "demon." 

Slogan Thirty-six

Don’t act with a twist.

From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:

            At times we get caught in the illusion that our spiritual practice is like a stock exchange. We may perform a generous act or grant our forgiveness to someone, but underneath, we expect to be repaid in some way. The “twist” spoken of in this slogan refers to those ulterior motives. We want people to think we’re a great person instead of doing benevolent deeds for the sake of kindness. We crave acknowledgement and admiration for our efforts. In reality, it may be impossible to be completely unselfish without looking for some payoff. But we can keep a check on our motivations and be aware of how we crave respect and honor. We can choose to train not for a reward, but because it is the better way to live.

Photo: Tendril of a Smilax vine used to help it climb other plants or supports.

          I mailed a surprise package to some friends over the holidays, and thanks to the USPS tracking service, I knew exactly the day it was delivered. Excitedly I waited to hear from them, but days passed with no "thank-you" note, call or email. As the days turned to weeks, my joyful mood changed to righteous indignation. I became angry at the same people I had originally desired to make happy. What could cause such an emotional about-face? The knot in my knickers was the result of my own expectations. Instead of enjoying the fun behind the intended surprise, I spoiled it through anticipation built on assumptions. In a 2004 New York Times Magazine interview, physicist Stephen Hawking was asked how he kept his spirits up since his life was drastically altered at age 21 by an incurable motor-neuron disease. He replied, "My expectations were reduced to zero when I was 21. Everything since then has been a bonus." I need to be aware of the twists I add to my actions, or I may miss out on those bonuses.