A few weeks ago, I attended a yoga class taught by my friend Robyn. It was a stressful day, but as soon as I set foot in the studio I felt better. Maybe it was the incense, the soft music playing in the background, and the generally peaceful atmosphere a yoga class creates... but moreso than that, I think I was comforted just by virtue of knowing I was doing something good for myself. Certainly the surroundings made it easier to relax, but maybe it was my conscious intention to set that time aside for myself that allowed me to access that elusive inner peace.
I often wonder if integrating some kind of regular spiritual practice into my life would be good for me. Times like that yoga class remind me of how lovely it feels to return to that peaceful place. The most natural choice for me would be someplace like Sat Yoga, the center I attended in Costa Rica: weekly group meditations and discussions led by a teacher. Every place is different, and I definitely did not resonate with all of the teachings I encountered there, but I think at the time I had it in my head that I HAD to integrate those teachings to achieve enlightenment... ugh, I hate that word. Let's just say peace and happiness. That's all I want. Anyway, I thought that if only I could get past my own resistance, clear up my confusion, and make myself understand, surely I would experience these states of mind everyone there raved about.
More and more, I realize how poorly this way of thinking serves me. I suppose part of my hesitancy to join a Buddhist center in Florida stems from the fear that I have to put forth all kinds of effort to access these teachings. I did visit a Tibetan Buddhist temple in Delray recently, armed, of course, with my usual lofty expectations of wisdom to be gained. I thought that if I was going, it must be meant to be, and that I would definitely vibe with this place. Silly, huh? I didn't end up vibing with it at all. They were pretty traditional: chanting, prostrations, and recitation of sutras. Growing up in a fully Western, fully areligious household, I don't think I'll ever get used to stuff like that. And I shouldn't have to!
But again, I had set a clear intention: I wanted to learn something from that experience, and learn I did. But that wisdom didn't come from anything that was said during the lecture, which flew a little over my head, it came from myself: I learned that I don't have to TRY to accept anything I don't vibe with right away. It should be easy. I guess the overachiever in me is ready to accept any amount of hard work to get somewhere, but if one is to take solace in a spiritual practice, it should be the exact opposite. Isn't my whole purpose in pursuing a spiritual path to relieve myself of burdens? It seems so duh now: the practice itself shouldn't create the worry that I "just wasn't ready" or make me feel bad that I wasn't as ascended as the people around me... and thus burden me more.
Why seek out a spiritual community in the first place? For someone like me, who's so big on self-reliance and trusting my own inner guide, is it necessary? Maybe not, but I want to find the right one for a couple reasons, and they're pretty simple: I love learning. I love intellectual discussions with people who are interested in the same things as me. And I love the sense of groundedness that comes with routine.
So I'll do it. That was easy.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
A few poems
Mine
Day of rest, day of reckoning:
cigarette burns down to nothing as I write,
like most things, it flares up, is bright,
and then dies.
Dreams are born and dreams are
extinguished, and I find myself
clutching them as if they were my
children, to be nourished, fed,
and then let go.
I search round every corner for a way
out of this maze, some palm-frond
shimmer to guide me back
to greatness.
Bravery, honor: these words mean nothing
to me. We are worlds apart and worlds apart
and worlds apart...
Still, it is your choice to honor the
life you've been given by willingly
walking, tight-lipped, into the machine jaws
of military madness.
And I always wanted it to be your choice.
Woman
Last night, woman, your face reminded me
of his, pomegranates swelling up in your cheeks,
youthful and radiant.
Something in me craves their roundness,
craves the curves, because we both know
nothing is ever as easy or simple as a
straight line.
Ode to Smoke
I could hardly stifle a gag when I
breathed you out, harsh yet comforting
to my lungs.
Nausea, my tired old friend. Sometimes I
wish I could purge myself of everything,
dust, smoke, my demons, my patterns,
and start anew, my memory swiped
clean as a shiny metal operating table
without the body.
Relieve me of these burdens and someday
I shall be released.
Day of rest, day of reckoning:
cigarette burns down to nothing as I write,
like most things, it flares up, is bright,
and then dies.
Dreams are born and dreams are
extinguished, and I find myself
clutching them as if they were my
children, to be nourished, fed,
and then let go.
I search round every corner for a way
out of this maze, some palm-frond
shimmer to guide me back
to greatness.
Bravery, honor: these words mean nothing
to me. We are worlds apart and worlds apart
and worlds apart...
Still, it is your choice to honor the
life you've been given by willingly
walking, tight-lipped, into the machine jaws
of military madness.
And I always wanted it to be your choice.
Woman
Last night, woman, your face reminded me
of his, pomegranates swelling up in your cheeks,
youthful and radiant.
Something in me craves their roundness,
craves the curves, because we both know
nothing is ever as easy or simple as a
straight line.
Ode to Smoke
I could hardly stifle a gag when I
breathed you out, harsh yet comforting
to my lungs.
Nausea, my tired old friend. Sometimes I
wish I could purge myself of everything,
dust, smoke, my demons, my patterns,
and start anew, my memory swiped
clean as a shiny metal operating table
without the body.
Relieve me of these burdens and someday
I shall be released.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
A word on compassion
All the world's religions talk about compassion. We usually think of compassion as altruistic action: donating money to a charity, proudly brandishing a "find the cure" ribbon on the car, maybe volunteering once a week at a soup kitchen. We're told that good people are selfless people. As a privileged, self-indulgent, generally lazy American, I've often been puzzled at my own disinterest in participating in any of these kinds of activities. Shouldn't I be absolving my guilt somehow, finding a way to cope with the crushing sense of shame that comes with being born in the richest country in the world, full of luxury and unearned advantages? I mean, I don't even usually give bums money on the street. Am I too self-absorbed to give a damn about the poverty and injustice that plagues so much of the world? The short answer is yes.
Let's take a closer look at compassion. Many people, when asked why they volunteer or protest or whatever else, will say that it makes them feel that they are doing good. It makes them feel good. About themselves. Whether it is liberal guilt or compassion for compassion's sake that serves as motivation, these actions are sometimes nothing more than self-absorption cloaked in the cherished idea of "selflessness." And the more defensive you get about that assertion, brash as it may seem, the more likely it is that it hits home.
But what's so wrong with being self-centered?
Okay, so arrogance and self-absorption in others irritate us. But the kind of self-centeredness, more rightfully called self-orientedness, I'm talking about actually intimately relates to the virtue of compassion. Traditionally, ego and compassion are like the two relatives who can't be in a room together without arguing. They just don't get along. But in order to be compassionate, we have to pay attention to ourselves first.
Meditation opens up the portal of self-awareness; when perfected, the technique draws the curtain on all our ego's machinations and brings them into full light. We become acutely aware of moods and their influence instead of being ruled by them. Instead of hitching onto a thought like a runaway on a train, we take a step back and simply observe it passing like a cloud in the sky. The goal of meditation is observation without judgment, and because we get to know ourselves better in the process, it is the first step to becoming compassionate.
I remember when I first started meditating, what I found disturbed and shocked me. Did I really talk to myself that way?! It was almost comical, witnessing how I would berate myself for petty things like spending money on shoes instead of saving it, for eating that extra slice of pizza, for smoking a whole pack of cigarettes in a day. Life is full of "shoulds" and "shouldn'ts," and humans are pretty good at generating a whole lot of useless guilt over not adhering to their own personal code of "goodness." Whether it's our diets, our relationships, or our productivity, we just don't do enough, we don't measure up. We are not good enough. Everyone has felt self-loathing at some point in their lives, and for many of us, it eats away at us in subtle ways. Why did I just snap at my mom? I can't believe I'm feeling jealous over that girl that works with my boyfriend. I should strive to be better. This familiar dialogue runs unsolicited through our heads, taking on different disguises, but underneath lies the same demon: self-criticism.
And that demon is an ugly one. The cliche that you can't love others before you love yourself is the truth. We all have skeletons in our closets, and unless we air them out, they're going to rot away and make everything stink. But once you look them in the face, you realize they're not so hideous after all. When we talk about our jealousy, our indulgence of choice, or our guilt with others, that commiseration brings love. We don't think of our friends as terrible people for occasionally screwing up, so shouldn't we go a little easier on ourselves? I should add in as a caveat here to not let self-criticism become just another demon to exorcise: it's okay that you feel it. When we meditate, we don't seek to detach from or escape emotions, as some common misinterpretations lead you to believe. Feel its wrath completely and fully, and let yourself know it's okay to make mistakes. And it's okay to torture yourself for it afterwards, too. Try to see the humor in the absurdity of the whole process.
Ultimately, when we cultivate this undiscriminating acceptance in ourselves, it lends itself effortlessly to compassion for others. When we allow ourselves the space we need to air out all of the parts of ourselves we loathe, instead of repressing and covering up, it naturally follows that we become more empathetic individuals. Kindness to ourselves breeds kindness for others.
So if you're an activist or a volunteer or a "do-gooder," it's not that I'm dismissing you as an egotist. I don't think we should all become hermits and do nothing but meditate and become enlightened before real change can take place. Miracles happen all the time, and altruism has achieved some great things in the world. But let's not forget ourselves, fragile and delicate and absurd as we are, along the way.
"Love your neighbor as yourself."
-J-dawg
Let's take a closer look at compassion. Many people, when asked why they volunteer or protest or whatever else, will say that it makes them feel that they are doing good. It makes them feel good. About themselves. Whether it is liberal guilt or compassion for compassion's sake that serves as motivation, these actions are sometimes nothing more than self-absorption cloaked in the cherished idea of "selflessness." And the more defensive you get about that assertion, brash as it may seem, the more likely it is that it hits home.
But what's so wrong with being self-centered?
Okay, so arrogance and self-absorption in others irritate us. But the kind of self-centeredness, more rightfully called self-orientedness, I'm talking about actually intimately relates to the virtue of compassion. Traditionally, ego and compassion are like the two relatives who can't be in a room together without arguing. They just don't get along. But in order to be compassionate, we have to pay attention to ourselves first.
Meditation opens up the portal of self-awareness; when perfected, the technique draws the curtain on all our ego's machinations and brings them into full light. We become acutely aware of moods and their influence instead of being ruled by them. Instead of hitching onto a thought like a runaway on a train, we take a step back and simply observe it passing like a cloud in the sky. The goal of meditation is observation without judgment, and because we get to know ourselves better in the process, it is the first step to becoming compassionate.
I remember when I first started meditating, what I found disturbed and shocked me. Did I really talk to myself that way?! It was almost comical, witnessing how I would berate myself for petty things like spending money on shoes instead of saving it, for eating that extra slice of pizza, for smoking a whole pack of cigarettes in a day. Life is full of "shoulds" and "shouldn'ts," and humans are pretty good at generating a whole lot of useless guilt over not adhering to their own personal code of "goodness." Whether it's our diets, our relationships, or our productivity, we just don't do enough, we don't measure up. We are not good enough. Everyone has felt self-loathing at some point in their lives, and for many of us, it eats away at us in subtle ways. Why did I just snap at my mom? I can't believe I'm feeling jealous over that girl that works with my boyfriend. I should strive to be better. This familiar dialogue runs unsolicited through our heads, taking on different disguises, but underneath lies the same demon: self-criticism.
And that demon is an ugly one. The cliche that you can't love others before you love yourself is the truth. We all have skeletons in our closets, and unless we air them out, they're going to rot away and make everything stink. But once you look them in the face, you realize they're not so hideous after all. When we talk about our jealousy, our indulgence of choice, or our guilt with others, that commiseration brings love. We don't think of our friends as terrible people for occasionally screwing up, so shouldn't we go a little easier on ourselves? I should add in as a caveat here to not let self-criticism become just another demon to exorcise: it's okay that you feel it. When we meditate, we don't seek to detach from or escape emotions, as some common misinterpretations lead you to believe. Feel its wrath completely and fully, and let yourself know it's okay to make mistakes. And it's okay to torture yourself for it afterwards, too. Try to see the humor in the absurdity of the whole process.
Ultimately, when we cultivate this undiscriminating acceptance in ourselves, it lends itself effortlessly to compassion for others. When we allow ourselves the space we need to air out all of the parts of ourselves we loathe, instead of repressing and covering up, it naturally follows that we become more empathetic individuals. Kindness to ourselves breeds kindness for others.
So if you're an activist or a volunteer or a "do-gooder," it's not that I'm dismissing you as an egotist. I don't think we should all become hermits and do nothing but meditate and become enlightened before real change can take place. Miracles happen all the time, and altruism has achieved some great things in the world. But let's not forget ourselves, fragile and delicate and absurd as we are, along the way.
"Love your neighbor as yourself."
-J-dawg
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