28
Oct 11

Taking Halloween Seriously

“Many Paths One Truth” is out!  Compelling me to use exclamation points!   Not surprisingly, we who worked on the issue find it beautiful and fascinating, and we hope you do!  Seriously, please support us by buying a copy and letting us know what you think.

As we worked on the issue, this question came up again and again: How can a person find a good or right way?  Especially now, when so many teachings are available and in increasingly user-friendly forms.  Just the other day, Parabola publisher Jeff Zaleski and I interviewed an avowed reincarnated Tibetan Buddhist lama in his borrowed apartment on Central Park West, before he attended a premier of a movie about his life.  Next, we taxied down to the Parabola offices where we picked up the weekly bale of books and dvds from other lamas and teachers from other major traditions and paths and ways.   And now there are so many on-line options!  How can we possibly go beyond the endless stream of inspiring thoughts  and quotes and images (and Parabola in our various forms provides plenty of those)—to actually make contact with a way that will lead inward to our own deepest experience—and outward,  to the truth we share?

Carlos Castaneda writes: “The only question is:  Does this path have a heart?  If it does, then it is a good path.  If it doesn’t, then it is of no use.”   I’ve been mentioning certain famous literary kids in this space lately—kids who found their way by trusting their own hearts and capacity to know and to feel.   Kids can’t help but trust their hearts.  Over the years, we build up dense layers of thoughts, memories, and images that take us away from what is really happening in the moment.  A real path helps us cut through the fog, leading us back to the roots of perception and feeling, re-introducing us to our innate capacity to see clearly and feel and care about what we see.  When we were little kids, we could see very clearly that life has a magical quality.  We understood the power of an act of kindness or generosity; we felt different qualities of presence in different people and animals.

And contrary to what many adults think about children we thought about death a great deal.  Death had dark magic.   Ghost stories and contemplation of scary ways to die brought us intensely alive.  Death had a dark magnetism that called out our best energy and courage and spirit to move in the opposite direction.   Thinking about dying and/or being visited by beings from the underworld made us discover how intensely we wanted to be alive.

His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama:  “Awareness of death is the very bedrock of the path.  Until you have developed this awareness, all other practices are obstructed.”    Real paths are like the ghosts who came to Scrooge:  they show us who we once were and they remind us that we will die.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

Halloween is coming and my thoughts are naturally turning to ghosts and haunting.  As I mentioned before, I co-lead a meditation group in a yoga studio called Yoga Shivaya, in Tarrytown, near Sleepy Hollow.  The are is now dominated by images of the Headless Horseman all dressed in black, scooping up poor Ichabod Crane and taking him on the ride of his life.  I can’t help thinking of him as an early American version of the young Buddha, being shown the basic facts of sickness, old age, and death—and the possible way out, the monk, who embodied conscious seeing.

Most people believe that Halloween derives from the ancient Celtic holiday of Samhain.  The ancient Celts believed that the border between this world and the Otherworld became thin on Samhain, allowing spirits (both harmless and harmful) to pass through. The family’s ancestors were honored and invited home while harmful spirits were warded off. It is believed that the need to ward off harmful spirits led to the wearing of costumes and masks. The point was to disguise oneself as a harmful spirit and thus avoid harm.  Samhain was also a time to take stock of food supplies and slaughter livestock for winter stores. Bonfires were lit. All other fires were doused and each home lit their hearth from the bonfire. The bones of slaughtered livestock were cast into its flames (such an ancient gesture of offering to the unknown). Sometimes two bonfires would be built side-by-side, and people and their livestock would walk between them as a cleansing ritual. Taking stock of what you have stored up.  Allow yourself to feel the weight of the tensions, the images of you are and what really matters to you that you carry around—allow yourself to really touch and see it without judgment or adding or turning away.  This is purification by fire.

A path with heart leads inward to the root of perception and feeling.  We purify our seeing and our way of relating to what is as we learn to not turn away from what we don’t wish to see, or what we think is not important or desirable.  It is seeing itself that is important, not what is seen. When we remember that we will die, we suddenly remember who we really are—and it turns out that we are not our bodies or positions or points of view, but a flowing state of inner being.  Staring at the Ghost of Christmas Future (and most of us have had this kind of scary shock in one guise or another) we realize that in our inmost essence we don’t have a particular outer shape at all: we are vessels for a common fire.  As Madame de Salzmann once taught:  “I begin to realize that what I am trying to approach is not only mine, not only in me, but immense and much more essential. In front of this, my tensions let go one after the other until the moment I feel, as a gift of unity, a collected Presence.”  Be like Scrooge waking up on Christmas morning and realizing it is not too late.  Follow a path with heart.


01
Feb 11

Make-believe Animal

“Man is a make-believe animal,” wrote William Hazlitt.  “He is never so truly himself as when he is acting a part.”

I am looking out at a white world through window framed with the uneven spikes of icecicles.”What are these daggers I see before me?”   I’m moving from Hazlitt to a reference to Macbeth not just because of the daggers of ice hanging from everybody’s house, but because the reports of the coming “monster storm” have taken such an ominous, apocalyptic turn.  It’s if the world has been knocked out of balance by ill deeds, which is what people feared in Macbeth’s time, and in Hamlet’s time, and in Julius Caesar’s time…and in most times.  The world certainly does deserve our care and attention.  But what gets in the way of our really seeing the big picture, not just reacting and projecting?   Today, because I am living in a little house in a wooded area that now looks like a fairy tale cottage, all framed in icecicles–today, because my neighbors and I are burrowing in in the face of  reports of a storm advancing like a great beast or monstrous army–today, I am aware that I am actually am living in a fairy tale.

I go walking through falling snow.  As I slip and slide down the hill and around the lake, I am full of plans and worries and desires to have this and avoid that.  Different scenarios well up and pass away.  P.L. Travers, the creator of Mary Poppins and a founding editor of Parabola said that everyone has to be the hero of one story: their own.   Whether we are or not we are almost always caught up in the narratives of our journey:  This is who I am and this is what life is like. Yet there are moments when we wake up,  moments when inner or outer conditions cause us to be here now.   Anything might pierce us, a bird call, the pristine beauty and silence of the snow.  This morning it was a kindly neighbor telling me part of her roof has collapsed under the weight of the snow.  No one will climb up and shovel it off in the storm, she told me.  What should she do?  I told her to call her insurance company, there are nice people there who can tell her what to do.  Hardly original, but just standing with her awhile and extending a little neighborly compassion lifted me up out of my own story.  It reminded me that we can change our story or our role within it.  We can learn to cultivate the “thin places,” those times when the dream isn’t so thick.  At those moments, I believe we may begin to move from scripted character to co-author of our lives.  At those moments, we may begin to learn how freeing it can be to act a part, to play a role.

“In order to be, we have to “play a role,” writes Madame de Salzmann.  We need to find a way to reconcile our aspirations to awaken to the higher, to Truth, with our natural desire to express ourselves, act out all our various perfectly good and natural strivings and intentions in life.  How can we do this?  We must strive to be present, taught Madame de Salzman, Buddha, God himself.  “To be present requires dividing the attention,” writes de Salzmann.  “Three-quarters must be kept inside and only one-quarter allowed to support the movement toward manifestation.”   By keeping the attention inside, I believe she means being mindfully aware of the body, feelings, thoughts moment by moment.  By one-quarter of the attention supporting “the movement towards manifestation,” I believe she means living consciously.  She means being with desires as they arise, neither repressing them or getting lost in them:  “At one moment, for example, I may experience a wish to indulge a pleasure like smoking or eating.  Either I immediately give in to the idea and have no contact with the desire, or I refuse and create conflict, again without contact because I have dismissed the desire.  And everything that arises in me proceeds like this.  The desire is life is life itself in me, extraordinarily beautiful, but because I do not know it and do not understand it, I experience frustration, a certain pain, in giving in or in repressing it.  So, the struggle is to live with the desire, not refusing it or losing myself in it, until the mechanism of the thinking no longer has an action on me, and the attention is free.”

In other words, we can be with the energy of desire for this or that, not identifying it with the mind but experiencing it as a manifestation of the life force–extraordinarily beautiful!  The movement to be made is not to repress or indulge but to invite or somehow kindle and keep lit an awareness that can accompany us as we seek to fulfill our desires.

Working this way we see that the realization of spiritual truth is situational, particular, a unique  moment of alchemy when attention turns the lead of usual sleep into gold.  We don’t obtain this kind of truth so much as give ourselves to it for a moment.  It is an act of seeing and service.

Today, as I bring in wood and lay a fire in the woodstove in case of the massive power outages that are predicted in the “monster snow” now advancing across the country like a blind beast of an army, I vow to try not to be completely taken by the story of the storm and my desires for, say, electricity and internet and hot water.  I vow to try to consciously play this role.