Animals, Zen Center Branding, and Dropping Your Worries

Took a few days to be mostly off-line. I checked e-mail maybe twice since Thursday, and looked at blogs only for about 15 minutes. A nice break. Most recommended for anyone who has been tech-focused, which is a lot of us these days.

Among other things, I did some squirrel meditation yesterday evening while walking. As some of you know, I have been loosely doing a photo project documenting alleys, so I often find that when I go walking, I end up touring alleys and yesterday was no exception.

Behind a large apartment building, I saw a squirrel leap on a dumpster. I stopped, and watched as it lifted one foot to it's chest and looked around a bit. Seeing me, it froze. We locked eyes as the thought passed through my mind "I wonder if people are going to think I'm up to no good back here." The squirrel scampered across the top of the dumpster, stood up, and did the same foot to chest gesture as it watched me.

Breathing in, I saw this pause. Breathing out, I saw a gray flash down the side of the dumpster. Thus was the end of the squirrel meditation.

This morning was a different kind of animal. A Gopher perhaps. We had our monthly board meeting and made some progress on our strategic plan. Lots of ideas and healthy discussions, as well as some specific steps forward. Gotta love that.

Toward the end of the meeting, we got into a discussion about attracting new members. Previously, I and some other board members had brought up the lack of people of color, working class folks, and young people in general in our sangha. So, some today's discussion was about that, but it also veered into the thorny areas of how to "market" programs and classes, as well as what the center should offer to attract people. Kabit-Zinn's mindfulness programs came up a fair bit, as did offering "introductory" classes, in-services, etc. that stripped out the "Buddhist" and "Zen" talk. Our guiding teacher wasn't too keen on putting a lot of energy into these kinds of programming, partly, she said, because those who come in through a more secular gate aren't necessarily going to appreciate or being interested in being an active member of a zen community. It's an interesting point, one that I find myself aligning with to some degree, while also thinking that offering Kabit-Zinn type workshops might be a way to support people in the community who may never otherwise be affiliated with our center.

The elephant lurking behind these discussions is, of course, money. How do you maintain what you have going, and also possibly build upon it for the future? No one on our board, thankfully, wants to be a huge community bringing in millions of dollars and selling off every last bit dharma in the process. However, we seem to be at a crossroads as to how to define ourselves for the coming decade at the very least. It's a very interesting place, and we'll be having a more thorough discussion on these issues in the next few months.

In the meantime, it's a warm, sunny day here in Minnesota. I'm sitting outside a local coffee house as I type this, taking in the fresh breeze and passing people, cars, and yes, squirrels. On days like this, I feel no need to hurry, and no need to worry.

I'll leave you with the words to a Thich Nhat Hanh community song I learned a few years ago.

Happiness is here and now,
I have dropped all my worries.
Nowhere to go, nothing to do,
And never in a hurry.

Happiness is here and now
I have dropped all my worries.
Somewhere to go, something to do,
But never in a hurry.

p.s. Click on photo to see a little furry friend.

Tiger Woods - Who's That?

Now that you've clicked on my blog post, I have to tell you this: I have nothing to say about Tiger Woods. Nada. Golf bores the crap out of me. The media, official and us in the "underground," is filled with sex scandal discussion, be it about Tiger, the Catholic Church, or the firing of the Palestinian President's chief of staff. Humans seem to love to pontificate about sexual ethics, but most of that pontificating ends up being a shit ton of hot air. So, there's your click on the catchy headline commentary.

In other news, life as the board chair of zen center is interesting. Lots of opportunities to place your desire to be liked in check, your hopes of appearing smart and on top of things in check, and your fantasies about having things under control in double check. I'm learning how to make decisions and let go of the reactions that come from such decisions. I'm also learning to make compromises without watering down the overall vision and goals at hand. Both positives in my book.

What I find so fascinating about the zen center board, the stagnation of my workplace, and life in general is how much clinging we all do around change itself. Things are good, so we don't want them to change. Things are shitty, but we're oddly comfortable, so we don't want any change. We have no idea what's going on, but it's easier to just sit and speculate about the future than actually strike a course, and move on.

Some people see me as a go getter, someone who has manifested a lot in a short period of time. There's some truth to that. But I can also sit and spin with the best of them. Two and half years ago, when the former leader of my workplace was about to retire, I told many people "I can guess what's coming, and so I'm leaving when she leaves." Well, I did pretty much guess what was coming, but two and half years later, I don't feel any clearer about what my next step is. Maybe a little clearer, but not that much.

Meanwhile, one of the hot topics of conversation at work this week concerned a broken down dishwasher, and whether it's time for a new one, or if people were simply misusing it. The thing has gotten run 4-5 times a day, 5 days a week, 49 weeks a year, for at least 6 years. It's finished. Bury it already. But these are the kinds of quandaries people get fixated on when the overall ship is sinking.

The grass is greener at the zen center, which is a blessing. But you know what spring is prone to bring with those well cultivated flowers most of us love to gaze at, don't you? Wild weeds, mosquitoes, humidity. That's kind of how I feel right now in the middle of developing our strategic plan - we've got a lot of wonderful flowers growing, and also some of those other three "friends" cropping up in the patches in between. Today, I've been taking up the practice of being curious and interested about those weeds, mosquitoes, and that surprise bit of sweaty heat. It's kind of fun. I've even laughed some about it all with a sangha friend of mine whose helping with some of the planning work.

So, to all of you out there. May you enjoy some lightness in your life, and may you be able to be curious and interested, even in the middle of the muck.

Soka Gakki, the Catholic Church, and Human Power Abuse

While the newspapers are filled with daily revelations that are either "petty gossip" or grave power abuses of the Catholic Church, some members of the Buddhist community continue to debate the merits and/or demerits of the controversial Buddhist organization Soka Gakki. Barbara over at her Buddhist blog posted the following about a recent monetary offer to help pay for work on a park in San Francisco:

I defend Soka Gakkai International (SGI) from accusations that it is a cult whenever I see them. I sincerely do not think it is a cult, and SGI members I have met do not seem to me to be brainwashed. But news stories like this don't make defending SGI easier.

SGI has offered to give $180,000 to the city of San Francisco in exchange for naming a gate to Franklin Square Park after SGI President Daisaku Ikeda. The gate would include a plaque to Ikeda's mentors. According to the city's Recreation and Park's Department, $80,000 would be used for construction and landscaping of the gate, and $100,000 would go to the Recreation and Park Department for "general operating support."

Yesterday the offer was on the agenda of a Recreation and Park Commission public meeting , but I don't yet know if the city has decided to accept or reject it. Given the economic crisis in California, that much money would be hard to turn down, I would think.

What little local reaction I have seen has been negative, however. President Ikeda has no connection to the park, which makes the proposed dedication of the gate an act of transparent vanity.

This post is followed by nearly 30 comments that delve into cults, Ikeda's leadership, and other power issues. It's a different version of the discussion about the Catholic Church in my opinion.

I don't feel like I know enough about SGI to make any conclusive statements on their organization's power structure. However, it's well known as the most racially and class diverse Buddhist group (in North America at least). And their members seem actively engaged in social justice work around the world, which in my book is a big positive.

It's interesting to me that spiritual groups with charismatic leaders tend to be lightning rods no matter what they do. Maybe SGI is littered with corruption; I don't really know. But would they're be so much criticism of them if Ikeda was just a dull figurehead, and they were just another large religious organization with a lot of money coming in the doors? Clearly, there are plenty of mega evangelical Christian churches here in the U.S. - bringing in millions of dollars behind breathy preachers who exude confidence in their message. However, it's only the Rick Warrens and Ted Haggards of the world (and their churches) that get thrust into the spotlight.

Does anyone really think the smaller (but still sizable) evangelical communities out there are free of scandal? Or us smaller zen communities? Or any smaller spiritual group out there?

How much of this angst towards the Catholic Church, or Soka Gakki, is simply finding an easy target for the struggles with power that occur all over, and which we seem, as humans, to have no easy answers for?

*photo of my friend Colin hiding behind a fence the day before the 2008 Republican National Convention

"None of Them Preach Terrorism"

I found this interesting news article about inter-religious dialogues going on along the Idaho/Oregon border thanks to Arun over at Angry Asian Buddhist. The article focuses in on Christians who have been attending open house introductory talks at various religious institutions in their area. Here is a section of the article:

While the Toneys said they believe in a soul as Christians, they also found similarities between Christianity and Buddhism — and the other religions the Lifelong Learners group has explored.

“Out of all the religions we’ve studied, none of them preach terrorism,” Dave Toney said. “They all preach the same way. ‘Do unto others’ in a different way.”

Payette Church of the Nazarene Secretary Judy Goff said she was surprised to learn that Buddhists don’t actually worship the historical Buddha — Siddhartha Gautama, the prince born in India who established the religion — but rather focus on his teachings.

“The idea of Buddhism and the balance of wisdom and compassion — there’s nothing wrong with that at all,” Goff said. “I think if more Christians practiced more wisdom and compassion, there would be a lot less hate in the world.”

Reducing ignorance is such an important step to peace in the world. The people participating in these dialogues are getting an opportunity to check their assumptions and open up their awareness, both huge positives.

The model of religious institutions collectively opening their doors, and offering presentations to the public, not to covert, but simply to promote awareness and understanding is one that is worth serious consideration everywhere.

At the same time, I do wonder about the overall impact of such work. Do these open houses only attract people who are already fairly open, but just don't understand the specifics of the various traditions? And will these people turn around and share what they have learned with others they know who are more fearful and threatened by religious diversity? Are these open houses spawning deeper relationships and cross-religious connections, or are they ending up being one shot deals?

Anyway, the particular open house talk being focused on in the article occurred at the Idaho OregonBuddhist Temple. A Shin Buddhist community, the temple is led by Reverend Joshin Dennis Fujimoto, who recounted the following wonderful story in a dharma talk a few years ago:

Rev. Taitsu Imai was a minister at the Tacoma Buddhist Temple. In one Dharma talk, he relayed a story of an elderly couple. The wife was born and raised by a family which was devoted to listening to the Dharma. As she became an adult, she also came to enjoy the Shin Buddhist life of listening to the Dharma. She came to the temple regularly, and tried not to miss opportunities to hear the Dharma.

A well-known Sensei was coming to speak at the temple, and she and her friends were looking forward to the day he would be here. She continued with her usual work and chores around the house, but she was anticipating the upcoming service. The night before the service, she said to her husband, "Tomorrow, there will be a well-known sensei visiting our temple. I will be attending to listen to his sermon with my friends. We all have been looking forward to his visit."

Her husband, who rarely attended the temple, replied, "That's good, but I have always wanted to ask you this question. You have been going to the temple to listen to many sermons for a long time...probably over thirty years on your own, and for many years before that with your parents. What have you been listening to all these years? Either you don't really listen, or you should have made it to the Pure Land by now. If you haven't made it by now, don't you think it is a waste of time? Why don't you just stop going?"

The wife kept silent and thought a little while. Finally, she said to her husband, "Every night I make dinner, and every night you have a drink with your meal. You have been drinking every single evening ever since we were married. Don't you think you've had enough of drinking? What good is it? You should have had enough of it by now."

The husband became angered, and told her, "Don't be a meddler. I work long hours...when I come home, my body and mind are both exhausted. When I have a drink with dinner, I am able to relax and enjoy the evening. I feel better, and I am ready for the next day."

The wife smiled, and told her husband, "That is the same reason I enjoy listening to the Dharma. Listening is much the same as eating meals. We eat meals three times a day. Also, you drink at dinner to help you from your fatigue. Even though we eat today, we still need to eat tomorrow. With each meal, we gain energy and feel refreshed to face what comes next in life. No matter how many long years we listen, no matter how we think we understand, we need to listen to the Dharma constantly so that we will be reminded of life and how to live with awareness and meaning."

*Photo is of an Obon Odori dance performed at the Idaho Oregon Buddhist Temple.

Buddhist "Green" Network

A member of the excellent Buddhist of Color and Allies network Urban Refuge, Ananda Leeke, has had another Buddhist social network going for awhile which I just discovered.

Go Green Sangha is "for people who practice mindfulness, green living, creativity, diversity, the healing arts, innerpreneuralism & service." Go check it out!

Tough Shit! The Challenges of Giving Yourself Permission to Make Mistakes

For a variety of reasons, the following from a post over at Yoga Journeys struck me:

One of the hats I wear is that of ESL teacher. Last week in class, my students were struggling with a difficult listening exercise, and I found myself saying I give you permission to be wrong. I wonder if that shifted anyone's world the way it shifted mine. I give you permission to be wrong. How often do we explicitly receive or grant ourselves this permission? It's true that we are often told that it is OK to make mistakes as long as we learn from them, but in fact I think the overarching lesson of our society is that to be wrong is a terrible thing.

Giving yourself permission to be wrong is the first step down a path to unknown discoveries. It is the first step to learning, exploring, discovering and growing as a person. By not only walking that path fearlessly but also explicitly giving others the permission to be wrong, we can give the world a great gift.

Even after several years of Zen practice and even longer with yoga practice, I still get hooked pretty easily by mistakes. Sure, I think I can say that little mistakes, like bowing at the wrong time or forgetting to make enough copies at work, don't get to me too much anymore. But I sometimes find myself mired in fear of larger mistakes, larger wrongs that might occur. Being uninsured brings up a lot of this. There's the mistake of staying put in a job that doesn't offer heath insurance in the first place. And the mistake of being in the wrong place or doing the wrong thing and getting injured. And also the mistake of not getting some kind of medical help and getting sicker in the process. This is just one set of examples of potential trouble spots in life - difficult to "correct" mistakes and wrongs that society forgives poorly, if at all.

When I'm trapped in this kind of mindset, life is heavy and miserable. And I become more passive, more willing to believe all the bullshit our culture puts out about being self-sufficient and in control of your life at all times. People who know me know that when it comes to finances, and trying to be self-sufficient with not a lot, I'm near the top of the class. And yet, for all my frugalness, I'm still one step away from bankruptcy and yet another "burden" to the "taxpayers." The reality of that there's no way to be fully self-sufficient precisely because we don't live in a vacuum. In addition, there's no way to go through life without mistakes, including maybe some big ones that make things messy.

However, even knowing that, I still sometimes have a hard time giving myself permission to let go, live 100% alive, and maybe screw up a few things in the process. And why is that? Partly because I still can be a mirror of our wider society, terribly unforgiving, and relentlessly striving for perfection at the cost of my wellbeing.

I also find though that there's a class element to all of this. If you are a poor person, perpetually on the edge - your big mistakes easily can be your undoing. In fact, over the course of my lifetime, a sizable chunk of the middle class now hovers just above those at the bottom economically, and we, too, now experience the real perils that mistakes can bring. You put your retirement money in the wrong mutual fund? Tough shit! No retirement for you. You son got pneumonia and had to stay in the hospital and now the insurance company denies you coverage? Don't you fucking dare ask the taxpayers to bail your ass out. (Never mind that you are a taxpayer, too.)

Actually, this post is starting to piss me off. When you reflect on it, the lack of compassion and genuine concern and support for others in this country can be so astounding that you wonder how the hell we've made it this far in one piece. And I sometimes mirror this lack of compassion, pick your self up by your bootstraps mentality, mostly towards myself, which makes it all the more painful.

"By not only walking that path fearlessly but also explicitly giving others the permission to be wrong, we can give the world a great gift." I think we have to learn simultaneously step into our fears about being wrong, and making mistakes, and we have to figure out ways to wear out of some of this collective shame and blame in our society. How? I don't know exactly. This is where we have to start.

Liminal Lines: Life, Death, and Art

Last Sunday, I visited a friend of a friend, who was in hospice with terminal cancer. I'd spent maybe half a dozen times with Brian and my friend Lois, joyfully eating late afternoon snacks, drinking white wine, and talking about the great questions of life. Brian was in seminary for some of that time, contemplating some of the wild cats of modern Christian theology - I remember a long conversation about John Shelby Spong, a favorite of my friend, who's argued that Christianity needs to radically change or it may just die off. It was always interesting to participate in these cross-religious dialogues, to consider Jesus as an outsider, and to have outsiders consider Zen and Buddhism with me.

During the visit, it was clear that Brian was fading. He tried to talk to us, but really couldn't muster the strength to say anything coherently. I remember looking into his eyes, and saying "I miss our talks" and I'm almost sure he tried to say to me "Maybe we'll have another." Well, we won't. He died Thursday. Not even 60 years old, he still left a small mark on the world by staying on his path, and doggedly pursuing the mysteries of this life (even with cancer ravaging his body, he stuck out his seminary studies longer than most would have).

The painting above is by another man who died young, but left a mark on the world. Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis was a Lithuanian painter and composer who, despite living only 35 years, composed nearly 250 pieces of music and completed almost 300 paintings. A contemporary of people like Kandinsky and Franz Marc, Ciurlionis was highly inspired by both spirituality and nature. His paintings, like the one above, are frequently bursting with intensity, while also almost being so liminal as to slide into abstraction. Some credit him with beating Kandinsky to the punch when it comes to modern abstract painting, although the American painter Arthur Dove also hangs in there as an early experimenter with 20th century abstraction.

Some of Ciurlionis' paintings are like Zen koans - images you cannot grab onto with your rational mind, like grains of sand sliding through your hands. At times, they contain reference points that might lead you to think "I've got it!" But then, as you take the image in a little more, you realize that you don't got it, and probably never will in the way you usually do. This guy seemed to always be on the border between this life and another, just as my friend has been over the past few years.

Really, we're all like this, don't you think? Maybe it's not in our face as much, or that we have to work a bit to keep the liminal alive in ways that Ciurlionis, Brian, and others out there didn't have to. But it's there regardless of how much you or I miss it - those little and great crossings between here and there (whatever "there" is), the footsteps we take between our many homes.