Bike Buddhas, Car Buddhas, Weebles, and Soccer

I have a new post over at Life as a Human webzine. It's about the World Cup, sports economics, and a bit of nostalgia. Check it out.

Continuing with the tangentally related posts, here is a wonderful post about biking and all the excuses people make for not biking. I don't expect everyone will suddenly become bike commuters from reading stuff like this, but maybe, as Barry from Ox Herding said recently, everyone could shift their behavior 1%. Maybe you'll bike that 6 block drive to the store you are currently making. Or you'll skip the drive to the gym and take a ride through the park on the weekend instead. It's one way to address oil spills, at any rate.

Here's a cool little post about meditation and Weebles. You may remember playing with Weebles as a kid. Maybe not. Either way, you might be asking what does a kids' toy have to do with zazen? Read Lawrence's post to find out.

And finally, here's a short announcement about Buddha figures for use in people's cars. I've seen people place many objects, including Buddhas, on their dashboards in a sort of alter style. As someone who wants to dismantle the car-centric culture we have, I kind wonder what to make of such displays. On the one hand, it's very true that people often spend a lot of time in their cars, and that such space is just as "sacred" as anywhere else. Yet, I also wonder what it means when millions of folks adorn their cars in ways that make them more central to their lives than even their homes.

"Twilight Zone of Buddhism"

There's a thoughtful post over at the blog The Dojin Roku addressing some of the many ways people get attached to the forms, rituals, and ceremonies of Buddhist practice. It's an interesting issue that brings up all sorts of madness. Some people want to be rid of all that stuff and just meditate together. Others want to be "perfect" at every form, and can't stand the "sloppiness" that comes with entire sanghas full of people doing the forms and rituals together. Still others are attached to debating the merits or lack there of when it comes to such things as zendo etiquette or oryoki meals during meditation retreats.

However, the thing that struck me most about the post didn't really have to do these issues. Or, more precisely, the stuckness around these issues brought up another set of issues for me. Yesterday, I posted this link to a guest post over at Sweep the Dirt Push the Dust. One of the things Andrea, the author of the post, wrote about was the lack of a sense of welcoming she felt amongst Buddhist communities in the U.S.

She was speaking particularly as a woman of color, but I know that this issue exists to some degree regardless of a person's background. Despite its arrival in pop culture, actual Buddhist centers and temples are still foreign territory for most Americans. People have all kinds of crazy ideas about what we Buddhists are doing, and why. And those who actually are curious and want to experience a Buddhist service, or learn about meditation, often have to make a leap into the unknown. Some will argue this is a good thing. A real taste of the practice if there ever was one, and I partly agree. And yet, if this leap is followed by anything less than kindness and openness to the mixture of curiosity, anxiety, and confusion many people have coming into a Buddhist community for the first time, then what you get is a lot of one time visitors who never return.

So, what struck me about the Dojin Roku post was the following:

I remember when I decided to return to practicing Zen beyond just zazen, I searched for a sangha in my local community and found a Zen center. I was thrilled and contacted them right away. I was informed I would need to attend a mandatory class before I would be able to attend and sit with the group. Thinking that was for people unfamiliar with zazen, I let them know I had been practicing meditation for a minimum of 20 years. “It doesn’t matter. You have to come to the class, and we aren’t doing another class for a couple of months.” I wondered what could be so incredibly critical about sitting as to require such deep instruction. Had I crossed into the Twilight Zone of Buddhism? I wondered. Through the years I have heard similar stories from many frustrated zenners. “I was so panicked about making sure I was doing everything just right that I couldn’t meditate!”

I've heard stories like this about other centers across the country. They are, in my opinion, extreme examples, but they cause me to pause every time I hear them.

My own sangha has made many efforts around manifesting welcome-ness. We have greeters at the door during all services and events. We have introduction sessions that are open to all, but not required of all who walk in the door. We offer beginning level classes on a regular basis to support the budding practices of newer members and others in the community. And we have been more recently expanding the social element of community through all sangha events like camping weekends, and through individual members kindly opening their homes to have others over for meditation and socializing. I'm sure we could come up with other ways to enhance what we're already doing, but it's a far cry from the exclusiveness that the Zen center mentioned above seems to display.

In my opinion, having places that are open and welcoming to all are vital to developing a lively lay Buddhist community, which is what most of us will be a part of for better or worse. There just aren't that many people who can, or will, become monastics, and you have to have a thriving lay community to support the monastics anyway.

So, this is our work as I see it, to be more open and welcoming in whatever ways we can. Cause the Twilight Zone might have been fun to watch on TV, but I doubt many of us actually would want to go and spend any time in a place like that.

A Little Sound byte Dharma For You All

Yes, our lives are often complex. But sometimes, a handful of sound bytes is exactly what we need. Enjoy!

"This Trans Formative Shit Called Zen"

John's blog, Sweep the Dust, Push the Dirt has been home to some interesting guest posts. (The idea of having people guest post is also a nice way to keep your blog running when you don't have much new to say.) I wanted to share today's guest post because it was enjoyable, and a different perspective on Zen.

Here's a juicy snippet to get you started:

Typically, when Black folks have problems, we don’t sit and we don’t go to therapy. Some drink, some use drugs, some sit around hating the world. But we almost always end up in church. We’ve learned generation after generation to look up, not in. The church is like going home after a long vacation. My momma, her mamma, their grand mamma and all them, go to church. Everybody knows and it doesn’t have to be explained. And if your next question is ‘knows what?”, that is exactly my point. People who look like you, care about you, and sometimes gossip about you, welcome you with open arms. This home away from home is usually in the middle of a neighborhood that people move out of as soon as they can. They are not just in the neighborhood, they are a part of it. From feeding the hungry to neighborhood legal clinics.

I’ve yet to come across a “help the local community,” “grassroots” type of activity organized by Buddhist. I am unaware of any Zen centers in a neighborhood where I can guarantee there is a church. So how exactly are my fellow sufferers with no money, nothing but problems and no inkling of the world outside of their own neighborhood going to discover this trans formative shit called Zen?

Enjoy!

Yoga and its Discontents

Hand's up if you hate a particular yoga pose? Seriously, anyone who does it enough will find a pose or two that drive them batty. I'm not so keen on headstand, mostly because I'm afraid of screwing up my neck. Over at Eco Yogini yesterday, there was a bit of a hate fest on a favorite pose of mine: corpse pose or savasana.

Now, the original post makes some good points about arising anxiety during the pose, and also pain in her sacral area. She didn't seem to be aware of the various modifications that you can do for corpse pose, but many of the comments that followed offered modifications for her.

What bothered me, though, was the level of "me, myself, and mine" focus that flowed through the comments on this post.

The first comment begins:

girlfriend, remind yourself that yoga practice is about YOU and no one else! your booty hurt? sit up and chill in your own way! your back hurt? do what you gotta do! the important thing is that you already understand the intention of the pose. you don't need to ask permission to do what makes you comfortable, and if your yoga teacher has the nerve to tell you to do something else, tell her/him they can kiss your sacrum, ahahaha

Fun sass, but last I checked yoga or any spiritual practice isn't about "what makes you comfortable." Of course, if you turn it into being about exercise, then "chill(ing) in your own way" probably makes sense, even if it's in the middle of a class full of others.

A few comments down, there is one that appears right on when you first read it, but then that thread of "self-focus" comes through.

There are actually lots of people who can't do that in a lying flat position. So, try lying on your side (which is actually what we learned in YTT to recommend for pregnant women - curled on the left side with pillows as needed). Or, try bending your knees to take stress out of your lower back. Or, just sit up and meditate like you want to. Seriously, this is the one pose that you can pretty much guarantee that NOBODY is watching - cause they all have their eyes closed!

I totally agree that some people can't do certain poses, even ones that look easy to the rest of us. A friend of mine has been working in yoga classes for paralyzed folks, and what they do versus what the rest of us do is clearly a different experience. And yet, when I read this comment a second time, I thought "no where in here is anything about the class teacher." It's as if there isn't a teacher even, or at least, what the teacher has to say or offer really doesn't matter much. I can't imagine just getting up and starting to do kinhin during group zazen because "no one is watching," but I suppose the way people approach yoga and Buddhist practice is different in some ways.

A few comments after this is the following gem: "ha ha ha - this was a reason why I don't do yoga classes, I hate being told to lay down and relax." At least the writer is honest and not attending classes where she wants it to be her way all the time.

And here's one last comment worth the price of admission:

This drives me batty!

The fact that the teacher doesn't say, "Come to savasana or any relaxation pose or sitting pose that YOUR BODY NEEDS RIGHT NOW..."

Or some such thing. Those are the words I use and I can't imagine the point of yoga if we aren't to teach students to LISTEN to their OWN bodies. OYE.

YOU shouldn't have to ask or tell the teacher; they should know.

Apparently, yoga teachers are now clairvoyants who can see the thoughts and struggles of every last student that arrives in their classes.

Thankfully, someone finally makes what to me felt like an obvious point by saying "Have you talked to your teacher about what's going on for you in savasana? They might not have any idea that you are having these huge reaction to the pose."

It seems to me that one of the main reasons for attending yoga classes, or working with any teacher, is that you're aware that this person might be able to teach you something. That they might have learned something about life that could help you. And even though it ultimately comes back to you, and is about "your practice," or "your life," if you haven't learned the scales, you can't play much music. Right?

If you read through the entire thread of comments, you'll see there are some wonderful insights from people who are probably practicing yoga sincerely, and with depth. I've read the blogs of a few of these folks, including Eco Yogini, and it's clear that they aren't just out for nice bit of exercise and a tight bod.

However, with all the popularity, commercialization, and competition amongst studios to get students in the doors, I think a hell of a lot gets compromised in the yoga world overall. This doesn't mean there aren't wise teachers grounded in the spiritual teachings out there - I've studied with four excellent teachers over the years. Nor does it mean that most yoga students are "all about the fluff" - I've met plenty who are sincere, dedicated, and becoming wise in their own right.

And yet, this post isn't unique at all: there are tons of posts bemoaning the many problems with yoga "in the west." So, something is certainly amiss, don't you think?

I don't have any answers, and for the most part, all I can do is do my own yoga practice as best as I can. And write a post like this once in awhile, just to keep the issue fresh in people's minds.

Buddhist Bloggers Digging In

There are some powerful posts hanging around out there in the Buddhoblogosphere today.

Tom Armstrong has a fascinating post examining the languaging on homelessness in a newsletter for a branch of Loaves and Fishes in Sacramento. The newsletter opens with a quote from Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfield, and then goes on to make a decidedly Christian statement about homeless people:

They may look like humble clay as they trudge along 12th Street towards Loaves & Fishes but the stress of shared homelessness cracks open their humanity and gives us glimpses of the spark of divinity within them.

Tom goes on to comment, "Catholics, like other Christians, see people as essentially sinful. The Buddhist view is the opposite: People are essentially noble and good."

Check out the whole article for more; it's worth looking at partly because I think some convert Buddhists, who were immersed in Christian traditions before becoming Buddhists, really struggle to flip over the narrative that people are "sinful by nature."

Algernon, over at Notes from a Burning House, writes in his current post about the narratives banging up against each other in the Middle East, and the power beneath them.

Among his points, I found the following insight most important:

When truly committed and honest negotiators appear on both sides of this conflict, they will necessarily begin talking about concessions and compromises. In other words, there will be a discussion about conceding and sharing power.

On the rare occasions that people speak that way and mean it, what happens to them?

If you don't know the answer to that question, you'll have to read the rest of his post. And even if you do, read it anyway.

Barry, over at the Ox Herding blog, has been burning brightly lately. I've felt inspired by his posts recently, and am glad for his presence amongst us bloggers. his current post continues on the theme of making small shifts in one's life, and how this is often the way our life really opens up, contrary to the idea we often have lurking under the surface that we must give up everything, join a monastery, and forget about worldly life all together.

"Often the urgencies of life requires only the smallest action, such as a gift of flowers or a simple Thank You. And yet often we fail to make that gesture.

I've seen in my own life how hard it is to stay present to the requirements of the moment. It takes more than attentiveness to the shifting phenomena of feelings, impulses, thoughts and perceptions.

It takes a genuine commitment to love this world, no matter how it appears. It requires us to set aside our self-centered stories, to expose ourselves to the real.

Please go over to his blog to read the story behind these words.

And finally Maia, over at Jizo Chronicles, posted a dialogue between bell hooks and Thich Nhat Hanh that is definitely worth considering. Maia's blog is often a source of access points to socially engaged practice, something sorely needed in this day and age.

Here is a striking snippet from the dialogue for you.

bell hooks: And lastly, what about fear? Because I think that many white people approach black people or Asian people not with hatred or anger but with fear. What can love do for that fear?

Thich Nhat Hanh: Fear is born from ignorance. We think that the other person is trying to take away something from us. But if we look deeply, we see that the desire of the other person is exactly our own desire—to have peace, to be able to have a chance to live.

I've been reflecting on how Thay's comments about fear point to what I've been experiencing with my career life. This struggle with the director I dislike has a lot to do with fears that what I want the organization to do, or what I and others are already doing, will be struck down by the desires of this director, who currently holds much of the power.

May we all be liberated a bit through each others' words.

Hatred, Love, and the Dhammapada

"He abused me, he beat me, he defeated me, he robbed me,"--in those who harbor such thoughts hatred will never cease.

"He abused me, he beat me, he defeated me, he robbed me,"--in those who do not harbor such thoughts hatred will cease.

For hatred does not cease by hatred at any time: hatred ceases by love alone.

These lines are from the first chapter of the Dhammapada, one of the best known collections of teachings from the Theravadan Buddhist canon. A few thousand years later, they are still completely relevant and contemporary.

After my parents divorced, my mother met a man that triggered a lot of hatred within my teenage mind. He could be highly controlling and demanding at times. I still remember him lingering over my should as I washed dishes, waiting until I was finished so he could inspect for spots, and make me wash them again. I hated him then, and for years afterward, whenever his name came up in conversation, or his image came into my thoughts, a tirade of miserable commentary poured out.

I haven't fully broken through all of this, some fifteen years after I last saw him, but it's become so much clearer to me now, how almost everything I thought and said during those days and up until recently just added to my own misery, and those around me. In this way, he was a great teacher for me - someone I never want to see again, but who gave me the opportunity to experience a hatred deep enough to understand the damage hatred causes. None of my childhood "enemies" did this really; I never hated them hard enough or long enough to experience what I have as a result of my connection to this man my mother dated for several years.

Yesterday morning, a group of us met at the zen center for our monthly meeting. It's a kind of experiment, this group. A lay training group you might call it, although we have at least one member aspiring to become a zen priest in the future. Anyway, among other things, we had a discussion about various forms of self-hatred that seem commonplace in people living in the United States, and maybe many other places as well. The way I see it, "self-hatred" need not be just about the psychological; it's about anything you cut off or avoid in your life. Yes, there's no fixed, centralized "self" - however, most of the time, most of us are operating from a place of believing in one, so a concept like self-hatred is a useful construct, if nothing else.

During our meeting, I related how more than anything, what I try to cut out, deny, or downplay is things like the story above. Currently, I have an extreme dislike towards one of the directors at my workplace. I honestly don't respect her, nor desire to work with her in any capacity. In fact, after meeting with our education director for my annual review, I realized that while there are other issues I have with my workplace, much of my suffering is linked to the miserable relationship I have with that particular director.

Do I hate her? No. But I have felt ill will towards her plenty of times. And my response to this ill will arising and being expressed is usually to follow it up with some effort to soothe it, soften it, or think ill of myself for thinking so ill of her - anything but just experience the rawness of the dislike and lack of respect.

The thing about the Dhammapada quote above is that people often want to leap from one end to the other. Don't you think? Instead of doing the difficult work of experiencing the pain and roughness of what's present, we want to have that shit over with so we can go on appearing more and more bodhisattva-like in the world. It just doesn't work that way though.

This is why we have to do continuous practice. Not just sitting meditation, chanting, going to sangha events - but acting out our intention to be mindful with every step, knowing we won't be mindful at every step. Making the effort, and letting go of gaining any benefit from that effort. This is our way, and what working with teachings like the verses from the Dhammapada means.