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Another Look at Emptiness

Another Look at Emptiness — a Western look at emptiness, and how different categories of “knowing” affect us

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Many of the themes I write about revolve around the idea of emptiness, but one of the tricky parts about emptiness is that many Westerners equate emptiness with “meaningless.”

People think that to be empty is to lack feeling, empathy, and involvement. However, most people who say that are typically narcissists who have trouble with not being the centre of attention, so I guess that explains some of it.

Nonetheless, one could be forgiven for thinking being empty is tantamount to being uninvolved in the drama of life. I’d likely agree with that view. As I wrote to a friend:

No, there is nothing new in life. Please tell her for me that there IS nothing new. That’s the scary reality of this work. It’s all SSDD (Same Shit, Different Day.) That’s why people get so discouraged. SSDD. And why relationships fail. SSDD.
It’s the same dance over and over again, in different guises. Each of us has only one issue — it’s unique to us, and I call it our DRAMA.
DRAMA has many. Like Baskin Robbins sells 32 flavours, and it’s all ice cream.

Making it more complex than this is an ego game our minds come up with to keep us from dealing with our stuff each time, gracefully.

A couple of friends shared their recent dreams with me, and I’m amazed at how rich and complex (read DRAMATIC) their dreams are. The last one I was told about had three people in it, all interacting at cross purposes. Fights, disagreements and dances, oh my!

Imagine the DRAMA that 3 people with different agendas can create—and remember, the “three people” are really just the dreamer, who is actually a fourth participant.

Fritz Perls invented Gestalt Therapy, and diagnosed dreams. His theory was that each person and object in a dream is an aspect of the dreamer — every aspect of the dream is totally about and totally is — the dreamer.

For instance, if I am remembering an experience from the past with someone I dated, I am both the “dat-er” and the “dat-ed.”

How could I not be? As I play the role of the other person, I am only imagining their experience.

Waking life is the same. No matter what is happening, all there is, is me and my perceptions.

But boy, is it easy to get hung up on my stories, and on blaming others.

Here’s a Rumi poem for you to think about:

Essence is emptiness. Everything else, accidental. Emptiness brings peace to loving. Everything else, disease. In this world of trickery Emptiness is what your soul wants. Jelaluddin Rumi (trans. Coleman Barks)

So, what’s going on here?

Well, the point of life is to be present as life unfolds, while at the same time being gentle with ourselves.

Our mind creates stories, DRAMAS, which are both disturbing and meaningless. Thus, DRAMA is the opposite of emptiness.

Emptiness is the willingness to simply be with what is in front of us, without creating DRAMA as an avoidance mechanism.

Rather than trying to analyze the Rumi poem right now, let me try an analogy. On Christmas, a long time back, most of Darbella’s family were gathered in front of her sister’s TV, there to discuss the “Android Box.”

Android Boxes work like an Android phone, but are loaded with software that makes it possible to watch movies and TV shows. I was intrigued.

A while later the house we were “sitting” had one; we liked it enough to order our own.

First, the two boxes looked different, but did the same thing. Let’s call what the unit looks like its “form.” In addition to the “form,” there is how each unit works. Let’s call how the unit works its “Function.”

Unit 1 had a simple HOME menu, and that made it easy to shift between software.

Unit 2 had (get this!) a “simplified menu,” which meant it took several steps to get to th∈software.

Therefore, if time is important to me, then the function of Unit 1 is more efficient than that of Unit 2. In general, though, their function is “similar.”

Lastly, there is content.

Each unit can only access what is asked of it. I have to click on something to retrieve and watch it. So, what I’m watching at any point is entirely different from what my friend (or anyone else) is watching.

We therefore can say that the two Android Boxes have almost the “same” form and function, but have different content.

Got it?

Here’s where people confuse themselves. They think that there is one more aspect to the “things of life” — “meaning.” Meaning, however, is totally personal, and has nothing to do with the form, function, or contents.

Meaning is never a function of anything. Meaning is imposed, is situational, and is fleeting.

I always have the ability to choose what to look at — to decide if I want to change what I view. This decision does not require that I create a DRAMA about what I’ve chosen to look at. I am “empty” of judgement about the rightness or wrongness of what I’m watching.

Emptiness, as I use the word, and as Rumi used the word, might be described as making adjustments to one’s approach to life, without imposing meaning, judgement, or DRAMA.

You likely get this as it applies to a show on the Android Box.

I might love a show and you might hate it; that is not a characteristic of the show. Rather, it is a personal judgement.

The opposite of being empty is DRAMA and judgement. Many are caught here. They judge that their “contents” are faulty, lousy, bad, whatever — or they judge that the contents of others are faulty. They want the right, fixed, proper, good “contents.”

We suggest dropping the judgements, and simply doing something different. That may sound like the same thing, but it’s not.

Rumi says, “Emptiness brings peace to loving. Everything else, disease.”

The last word is telling -— dis-ease. Lacking ease. And the emptiness to which he refers is being empty of judgement regarding the thing one loves.

We believe that one function of being human is creating a life based upon who one is and how one sees things, in the moment.

While another person’s approach may not resonate for me, and I may therefore not chose to copy it, all I can say is, “That’s not right for me.”

Most relationship disputes, on the other hand, are based upon the judgement that one’s partner is not simply different, but wrong. People get up on their soap-boxes and preach at their partner, listing all their flaws and sins. And the partner does the same. The partners are full of judgement.

Emptiness is this: I am curious about your programming, and I continually ask you how your programming is working for you. I encourage you to explore how you see reality and how your view is working for you, and invite you to let go of views and actions that are not beneficial…to you!

And I invite you to do the same for me.

I am dis-eased if I think that my way is the right way. I am empty if I live with integrity, and accept who I am and who you are, without judgement.

Not one person, living or dead, has ever been content (at ease) when living in judgement. And this includes both judging oneself and judging others.

We are not suggesting compliance here, nor apathy, nor stupidity. What we are suggesting is the integrity to accept complete responsibility for what I can control—the way I act in the world.

Emptiness is the key. I continually empty my self of the accumulated sludge of anger, resentment, judgement, and regret. I empty myself of the need to fix others. I look at myself and my way of explaining, seeing and living. If I am not content with myself, I shift my behaviours and interpretations and look again.

To be whole, one must be empty.

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The Emptiness of Everything

The Emptiness of Everything — watching the workings of our mind as we invent meanings — how doing this gets us into trouble, is the point of the Heart Sutra

Looking for more on this topic?

Check out my book,
Half Asleep in the Buddha Hall.
My “Eastern” book takes you by the hand and helps you to find peace of mind. 
Half Asleep in the Buddha Hall is a Zen-based guide to living life fully and deeply.

Last article I wrote about “life, death and gone.” And I mentioned that the line I quoted was from the Heart Sutra, a key Buddhist text.

The Heart Sutra as a guide

Much like many things Buddhist, the concepts found in the Heart Sutra are tricky and counter-intuitive.

Rather than get into a line-by-line analysis, let me instead toss out some more global interpretations.

This curious things in this Sutra have to do with

emptiness, dependent origin, and that bodhi, or enlightenment, has to do with being present, rather than “understanding.”I’m writing this a few days after Trump’s 2nd inauguration. You know, fuhrer light and little Elon, he of the nazi salute.

My first go at writing was a bit more judgmental. For example I wrote, “… the nut-bar giving his nazi salute.” The nut-bar part is the imposition of me on the situation. Which is what the Heart Sutra addresses.

Because we are so proud of our reasoning abilities, we take it as gospel that we can non-judgmentally understand, or make sense out of, that which is before us.

It’s not like this is the first time through this topic for us, but here goes.

The concept of emptiness might just be the Buddha’s greatest insight… if there was such a thing as greatest, and if my opinion about it has anything to do with anything. And that’s the point.

The first line of the Heart Sutra is usually translated, “Form is emptiness, emptiness is form.”

The first time I came across this, way back in a world religion class at Elmhurst University, circa 1968, I know I was puzzled. And being who I appeared to be back then, (as far as anyone is anything…) being a white, 17-year-old liberal Christian, my “belief” was, “Yikes! Those Buddhists were kinda dumb. No wonder their religion isn’t as good as my religion.” Sigh.

It took me a couple of decades to take another run at Buddhism in general and Zen in particular. The story I tell myself is that I finally was ready to un-bury my head and have a really look.

Here’s today’s version of that.

Emptiness goes with dependent origin

The idea being presented is that nothing has a pure essence. Nothing has a meaning. One way of saying that is,

“Everything is related to something else, so therefore one cannot attribute a fixed meaning to anything.”

Emptiness means that things do not have fixed, clear, precise “meanings.”

Illustrations abound. Take size. You look at a van, and say “big vehicle!” But compared to what? A Prius? A Hummer? Clearly, the size of the van is relative to something else.

This is the dependent origin part. The van’s size, for example is not a fixed quantity; it’s not “big, small,” etc. As we can say is, “That van certainly is!” Or, “That specific van is bigger than a Prius and smaller than a Hummer.”

The Buddha’s great insight about all of this was developed as he studied the workings of his mind. Let me describe it this way:

We come into the world as tabula rasa (blank slates.) Over the years, we are taught… well… everything. And we are initially taught to label. Which is handy.

Knowing which mushroom to eat is a good thing. Knowing my name is Wayne is a good thing, especially when being called for dinner. Knowing that I am an individual and not an undifferentiated mass is helpful.

And labelling–evaluating–being able to place our van in between a Prius and a Hummer as regards size–is necessary to do science, for example.

The issue is not “labelling” per se. The problem comes when we add judgements to labels.All (fill in the blank — FITB) are bad.People with (FITB) can’t be trusted.Women who (FITB) are heartless.

Stereotypes are taught to us. We don’t develop them naturally. Depending upon how you were brought up, you either hold them gently, or rigidly.

Example: Costa Ricans, in general, have a stereotype — most have dim views of Nicaraguans. They’re not blatantly racist, but many have negative judgements. While considered one of the safest countries in Central America, many think that the country is overrun with ladrons (thieves.)

I just presented a stereotype about an entire country, or class of people.

It may or may not be true, but it is prevalent.

However… We’ve spent several weeks in Nicaragua, and I can say, (from personal experience,) that every Nicaraguan we met was kind.. and interesting… and we didn’t get robbed even once.

I hold the stereotype in my head; we used it to make a decision to take a cab after dark. I can use it without tarring even one Nicaraguan with the stereotype.

Because stereotypes aren’t true. They’re just mental constructs.

The Buddha wanted us to watch ourselves as we create such games in our head. He wanted us to notice our labels, and then how we rush to judge (to ascribe meaning,) and especially our rush to demonize.

He wanted us to understand that not one thing, including us, can be permanently defined and therefore nothing can be considered to be a fixed entity.

This is difficult, because one of the greatest stereotypes of all is that we can actually figure things out.

That our brains are so powerful, and our instincts so acute, that we know the truth of things.

We don’t. Because without a huge effort, we are mostly the sum of our prejudices.

The game starts when we decide that something “isn’t right.” Rather than stop right there and examine our belief (“Why am I choosing to upset myself over this?”) we move to “wrong,” and then look for someone to blame.

Form is emptiness, emptiness is form.

The situation (the form) is just what is in front of us. It may be hard to accept, but the situation is empty of meaning. The meaning is provided by us, and us alone.

Even in a crowd or mob, there is no consensus, other than the decision to remain and participate. Each person in a crowd is there for their own, unique reasons.

If we remember this insight, we would never be in conflict over meaning.

We would see that every situation is unique, and how I respond is all I have control over.

Some find this a pessimistic view–an existential, meaningless universe view. It isn’t — because no matter what, I can choose my next move.

But I can never understand. I can get a handle on the process I go through to decide, but I’ll never really understand why I chose as I did.

And as to understanding others…

A Few Stories

1) I once counselled a guy just after his brother committed suicide. He started therapy with, “I have to understand why he did it.”

I spent 10 minutes explaining the impossibility of that task.

First, as the brother was dead, all we could do is guess at his motives. And since he wasn’t there, our guesses would have everything to do with me and with my client–and nothing to do with the brother. Next, we’d have to be able to enter the brother’s mind to understand; in a sense, we’d have to have lived his life, in order to even begin to understand. And of course that’s impossible. Last, even my client could miraculously describe his brother’s thinking, all he would be describing is the story his brother was telling in that moment. Not why he did it back then–why, later on, he thought he did it.

2) A friend wrote that she wanted her ex to “do what’s best for our daughters.” I challenged her on this. How would she know what is best for her daughters? By what they tell her? If so, do they ever change their minds? (Hint: of course they do, as do we all. We make each decision based upon what we want in the moment, and have no clue if what we want is “best” in the long run. We only understand “best” retroactively.)

What my friend actually means by her sentence is: “I want my ex to do what I’ve decided is best for our daughters.” Or, precisely, “I want my ex to do what I want him to do, when I want him to do it, and I want him to agree that it’s in the best interest of our daughters.”

I challenged her on her thinking.
Remarkably she never responded.

Her daughters, her self, her ex, all are empty. There is no “best.” There is only, “The story I am telling myself.” The only way to determine “best” would be if we could see into the future, and we can’t.

We don’t want to believe this. We want to think that the way we see and then interpret things is “true, right, and best.” We pretend that we can know all of this because erroneously believe that we have seen through to the essence of the subject or object.

But… but… the object or subject is empty of meaning.

3) A while back, our lovely niece was getting married, and Darbella and I were asked to MC. She wrote to ask for suggestions, stating, “I don’t have a clue about receptions.” She then sent a preliminary schedule of events.

I noticed that the first dance and the cake cutting were scheduled right after the entrance of the wedding party. Taking her line about being “clueless” as a guide, I texted and suggested that the cake cutting belonged around dessert time, and that the first dance immediately preceded… well… dancing.

I got back a, “Well, that’s how it’s being done these days” response.

My back went up a tad.

I thought, “I spent 10 years photographing weddings, and 20 years conducting them! I know how this should go!”

I almost texted her, but then had a breath. I noticed how I was reacting to being challenged, an old pattern for me. Noticed how I was trying to lump her behaviour into a “niece stereotype.”

Instead of reacting, I got curious. I Googled it.

Sure enough, some weddings followed this “procedure;“thinking:” they figure the b & g are walking in to cheers (really??) and might as go dance (more cheers, apparently) and then whack the cake.

Other wedding schedules I found had the order of events as I remembered them.

Now, what’s “right?”

Wedding receptions are empty of meaning, and therefore empty of “correct,” or “right.” They are whatever they are.

In any event, since the reception (and our niece) were empty of “right and wrong,” and it was her day, we did it the way she wanted. Even though it made absolutely no sense to me. How could it? I’m not her.

But remember, I almost pissed myself off about it!

This is not to say that I was or am wrong to have thoughts about the things I confront. It’s to say that my thoughts are just thoughts.

I want to remember to ask myself: are my thoughts conducive to my goals? If I seek peace, calmness, and presence, well… having judgements all over the place, and acting on them, might not be helpful.

Instead, I might become more awake just watching myself having the judgements, and then have a laugh when I try to go further and start to make others “evil” for having judgements that do not match my own.

Because whatever we are judging has no true reality or meaning about it.

My judgement is just that: mine. My situation is just that: mine.

I actually have no problem with people who have strong opinions. I relish a good debate. The only time I get into trouble is when I start judging the other person to be “wrong… then malicious… then evil.”

As we watch the world fall apart (a story or judgement I tell myslef) I can hate… despise… the things I see happening, and vow never to engage thusly. (Of course, I won’t know what I’ll actually do until I am in that situation…)

But to self-righteously hold myself up as better than “those people” is to perpetuate the game that caused the conflict in the first place.

I don’t need to endlessly declare myself to be “right” or “better.” I can choose to stay present, and act in accordance with my beliefs.

In the end, beliefs are just that. Not worth much. No, what matters Is what I do, how I engage.

Who I am, always, is what I do, and nothing else.

Examine your beliefs and certainties, and see if you can hold them a bit lighter. Think about how you “be” in the world, and work toward consistency.

And remember, it’s all just what it is. Empty, and yet, somehow, right there, looking back at you. It is you. All of it.

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Life, Death, and “Gone”

Life, Death, and “Gone”– we take life for granted, putting off the work we need to do. And then, poof… we’re gone.

An excellent guide to life and living.
Learn to focus your attention of who you really are.

Our last trip to Nicaragua from Costa Rica was on a lovely bus. The trip went pretty well, but maybe an hour south of Granada we got stuck in a traffic jam. Turned out there’d been an accident.

We sat for about an hour, then inched past the crash. A transport truck was on its side; it stretched from the other lane, over a ditch, and the cab was on its side in the tall grass.

Then… we passed a crumpled motorcycle.

Then, two “lumps,” each covered over with a blanket. Clearly, the recently deceased occupants of the crumpled moto. Lump in throat time.

My head went to the concluding lines of the “Heart Sutra:”

Gate gate paragate parasasam gate bodhi svaha.

I first learned this mantra from Ram Dass, who used it to teach how to use a mala for chanting / meditation.

Being a sutra, or a mantra, it defies easy translation. But we’ll have a try at it anyway.

Now, the traditional translation of this short mantra has to do with enlightenment, and how that plays out. You see that aspect in the word “bodhi,” which means awakening or enlightenment.

The word that caught my attention, however, was gate.
Gate means “gone.”

I thought the “gone” part also might apply to the two lives snuffed out in an instant. Here, then gone. It puts another spin on the traditional translation.

OK, first, the traditional interpretation

The front end is pretty easy to translate. It’s the last two words that are a little tricky when combined. We’ve got bodhi=enlightement, or waking up, coupled with the word svaha, which is colloquial. Someone translated the two words as: “Enlightenment! Whoopee!” Here are two other attempts at translating the mantra:

Edward Conze: Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone altogether beyond, O what an awakening, all hail!
The 14th Dalai Lama went with: Go, go, go beyond, go thoroughly beyond, and establish yourself in enlightenment.

The rest of the Heart Sutra, which I just might talk about soon, has a real “Here is how to live in the world as it actually is” flavour to it. But let’s get real.

And “real” is: life is as it is, and one aspect of life is that life is simply the forerunner to death.

The issue becomes: how do I live an enlightened life NOW? In this moment? How do I wake up NOW?

Because each of us is the living, breathing being, while at the same time, each of us is a blanket-covered lump on the side of the road.

Try Conze’s translation, above, with a slightly different translation in the context of the moment of death:

Gone, gone, gone beyond, gone altogether beyond, O what an awakening! Damn!

What an awakening, what a surprise, indeed!

We tend to act like humans instead of Buddhas (our true nature, the Buddha told us,) and one thing that separates us from Buddhahood is simply this:

We plan on sorting things out “tomorrow.”

“After I have wasted a lot of time feeling sorry for myself.”“After I find the right person.”“After… after… after.”

We are addicted to pain, sorrow, and especially addicted to thinking we actually have a tomorrow. Or even a next moment, seeing that, in this instant, a metaphorical truck might crash in our path.

Gate, gate paragate parasasam gate bodhi svaha.
Gone. Gone. Really gone. Altogether gone. Oh what an awakening!

If only I’d not wasted my life and had instead done the work necessary.

Of course, I’m making no judgements about the people from the accident.

I’m talking about where my head went upon seeing the accident. I only want to say that they likely hadn’t planned on that particular ending to their story. Hadn’t planned to be done so soon, to be gone so soon. It was just going to be a normal, uneventful ride.

Which reminds me of John Lennon’s line: “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” The “gate” mantra addresses this by suggesting that there is something “beyond,” but it’s not in the heaven sense. It’s going beyond the petty meanness, the dramas we create, the “putting it off” stuff that is the basis of most of our days, me, of course, included.

It’s a beyond state that lets us see, right now, that the only moment we can completely engage with–the only moment we have to do our lives differently, is this one. With this breath, right now.

No waiting, no pity parties, no sleeping through the moment. No, “if only’s” no “shoulda, woulda coulda.”

Now. It’s far better, I think, to be gone now, before you’re gone… forever.

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Zen Living: 5 Ways to Land

Zen Living: everything is unique. You must work on each thing, and be vigilant all the time, in order to land in the present moment.

Looking for more on this topic?

Check out my book,
Half Asleep in the Buddha Hall.
My “Eastern” book takes you by the hand and helps you to find peace of mind. 
Half Asleep in the Buddha Hall is a Zen-based guide to living life fully and deeply.

Zen Living is one of those easy — hard things. Moment by moment, just sitting, just breathing… just… whatever… is easy.

Doing it all the time — landing in yourself, in the present moment — and choosing to stay there — is hard.

We’ll talk more about this, and my book Half Asleep in the Buddha Hall is a great guide, but for now here are 5 ideas for finding your place in this second of reality.

1. Do it Now

Procrastination is deadly. The odd part is that the most deadly variety tends to be being proactive in other areas.

For example, I worked with people who had a short list of issues — say, wanting things to be better with their career, and also wanting a better relationship with their partner.

They’d throw themselves into the work issue, and creating some success. But the relationship stuff fell off the radar.

Then the relationship problem re-emerges.

Here’s the odd part. Rather than throw themselves into the relationship with abandon equal to what they created with their career, they’d make excuses. Or, rather, point to their success in other areas. “But… but… I’m doing so well with my career!”

Zen Living: everything is unique — we deal with everything one-at-a-time (like putting on your pants, one leg at a time…) Nothing automatically applies to other things. You must work on each thing, and be vigilant all the time.

It’s quite easy to pick the “fun-est” thing first, and then get so transfixed by it that the other stuff falls to the wayside. Or, to work on something, get the results you want, and assume that all the other “things” will just look after themselves.

The truth is that this work requires both patience and diligence.

2. Practice

This flows out of the first point, and I suspect we might benefit from proactive practice.

Rather than hoping that things will go “OK,” that we actively look for opportunities to challenge ourselves.

And the “thing” we have to work with is our life. Or more specifically, the issues that arise.

After all, anyone can be successful… when nothing is going wrong.

Most people get to a certain comfort level with this work, and then slow down or stop.

Example: They have a dialogue with a friend or partner, and discover much to talk about, and then find a topic or a direction that raises a few hackles (in them, or their partner reacts to the topic,) so that’s where they stop — they pull back one step from the “juice.”

Zen living: perhaps, the place to be living is on the “shaky side” of every line. If certain topics are scary or chargy, talk about those things. I find it fun, when talking with friends, to notice their discomfort, and to say something like, “I can see that you don’t want to talk about this, so would you like to talk about talking about it?”

Running away, avoiding, dancing around — all are ways to stay stuck in the drama, while excusing yourself. No excuses! Just see each thing as one more thing — one more way to bring yourself into the Now.

3. “Free Your Mind, the Rest Will Follow” — The Band

Letting go of your mind’s dominance is the most difficult part of the Zen path, or any path of self awareness.

The mind is sticky and slippery, and much of it is highly invested in maintaining the story you tell yourself.

Stories are the currency of the mind.

We think we know who we are, and believe our own press releases about how the world is.

Many people tell themselves all kinds of provocative tales — how hard done by they are, how their nearest and dearest are taking advantage of them, how they have no choice when they act like spoiled children.

It’s as if, just because they’ve looked at things one way since they were 6, they MUST look at things that way until they die.

There is nothing “true” about any of the stories you tell yourself.

Now, sure, you were born, had parents, and stuff happened and continues to happen. None of your stories about your life, (about the details — about “what happened”) however, are anything other than what you’ve chosen to believe to support your preconceived notions.

Zen living: things are as they are, until they aren’t. Getting your shorts in a knot, or acting like a spoled brat, is just one more mind game.

Freeing your mind really means freeing yourself from your mind’s grip.

Life is difficult, and telling yourself stories about how really, really bad it all is does nothing regarding dealing with the the actual living out of your days. If you choose to let go of the story-telling, you can simply make choices, act, and evaluate, then act again.

Once you mind is freed to resolve what “is,” “the rest just follows.”

4. Happiness is not the point. Integrity, freedom, and presence is.

We are a “happiness rules” culture, and that’s odd, because virtually no one is actually happy.

People seem hell-bent on being happy “some day, when all the ducks line up, if the creek don’t rise…”

Chasing after some ephemeral goal called happiness keeps us buying more, judging everything as lacking, and blaming others for the dissatisfaction.

This relates to point # 3 — storytelling. If you see the moment for what it is, you also recognize that most of our trouble comes with the stories we tell ourselves.

Our judgements about self, others, and circumstances, all of which is neutral, add the dynamic for our unhappiness.

Zen living: as you bring yourself, again and again, into presence, you start to see that mostly there is not much going on, and precious little to do, other than to be there for your life. Getting bent out of shape — typically over the behaviour of others (code for “They are not doing it the right way!” — meaning, your way) is quite the waste of time. Your opinion is just that — yours — and no one cares.

Drop the need to judge your life as lacking, and immerse yourself fully into the Now.

5. Take time to experience

Stepping back from the mind’s chatter can be quite disconcerting. Without all of that distraction, what ends up being left is sensation. The flow of life-force. Breath.

This can either be startling, scary, boring, or interesting.

The point to briskly stepping away from your mind’s dominance is to open yourself to the endless flow of sensation.

You suddenly can hear, and see, and feel, and in this process of being, you come into the actual experience of what’s up.

Most of the time your mind will pop in and start judging or complaining. “Here’s what you ought to be doing, feeling, thinking!” And away you go from the experience to the mental games.

Zen living: use your breath to bring yourself back into your body, and then simply feel and hear and see. Be at one with yourself. Have your feelings, experience your experiences, and then… wait for it… go with the flow to the next thing.

You’ll notice a reluctance to fully immersing yourself into the flow and feel of life, as if feeling is a “bad thing.”

Have another breath, and go with it. Soon, you tolerance for being fully alive and fully present will grow.

You, in a sense, become immersed in living, as opposed to living your life one step removed.

And remember, everything new has the potential to be scary. Do it anyway!

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5 Ideas About Compassion

5 Ideas About Compassion — The root of Compassion is ‘being present with.’ As we practice compassion, we drop judgement. We are left with a sense of self and a sense of another that is strong, rooted, and free from manipulation.

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Sometimes we think that to develop an open heart, to be truly loving and compassionate, means that we need to be passive, to allow others to abuse us, to smile and let anyone do what they want with us. Yet this is not what is meant by compassion. Quite the contrary. Compassion is not at all weak. It is the strength that arises out of seeing the true nature of suffering in the world. Compassion allows us to bear witness to that suffering, whether it is in ourselves or others, without fear; it allows us to name injustice without hesitation, and to act strongly, with all the skill at our disposal. To develop this mind state of compassion…is to learn to live, as the Buddha put it, with sympathy for all living beings, without exception. ~~ Quoting the Dalai Lama
~ Sharon Salzberg, Lovingkindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness (Shambhala Classics)

Many people waste their lives trying to force externals to “behave.”

Shifting into compassion requires moving through our ego driven need to be right, to be obeyed, or to be respected (whatever that means.)

It’s easy to be so driven by this need that we lose ourselves — trying vainly to fix things. We’re flummoxed by others not cooperating with us, making demands, being critical, whatever.

It will come as no surprise that such people are lost in their heads

Where else? They’ve staged an entire Broadway Musical in there, complete with props, characters, and snappy dialogue. What has fallen by the wayside, in all of this “directing of the play,” is self-compassion.

And by that I mean, groundedness, passion, and self-knowing.

One approach is to live a life of engaged compassion.

Compassion, as we read in this week’s quote, is not rolling over, is not walking around “all spiritual.” It is having the courage to stay present with others, while continuing to walk.

Idea # 1 — compassion begins with the Self

Compassion for others begins with compassion for self. In order to engage with compassion, we must first integrate and own who we are.

In practice, this means accepting ourselves as we are.

OK, I know. You want to talk about changing who you are (or, more honestly, changing the rest of the world.)

This is plainly impossible. We are who and how we are, and ever will be. Most of our emotional reactions are hard-wired in.

It’s why, if you have siblings, you have different reactions to the same story.

What we can do is understand that our hard-wiring, left unchecked, leads to catastrophe after catastrophe.

If all we do is complain about and judge our base-line self, all we have is misery, and nothing shifts. Compassion for self starts with,

“This is how I am. I can’t change my genetics, my history, or my emotional set-point. What I can do is accept this as my personal “ground zero,” and, each time, make other choices.

Choice is always possible (Wong and McKeen)

Here’s the key. I know, for myself, that my reactive nature leads me to two things:

harsh judgement of myself and others, and melancholy.

Has, ever since I left home at 17.

What I also know is the “feel” of either. I know the ache in my belly, and the tightening of my neck. As I feel these things, I breathe and treat myself with compassion –

“I am who I am, and this is my norm. Given that, here is what I choose to enact.”

This is how compassion works, at all levels. It is NOT passive acceptance, but is rather informed acknowledgment. By that, I mean that we land firmly in who we are and what is happening, accept that this is real, and then, with a clear head and open heart, act for the benefit of self and others.

Idea # 2 — Learning to see with clear eyes.

When I move past “What’s in it for me?” or “Why don’t they understand (shorthand for do it my way),” I’m left with the stunning reality that what is in me, and what is in front of me, is just “there.”

Most of us “Take the ‘A’ Train” right into our heads, and start judging, finger pointing, and sighing.

If you’ve ever gone to the zoo, you likely have seen monkeys playing with their poop. The roll it into balls, look at it, and if you get too close, they fling it at you.

This is what we do, in our heads, all the time. Play with our poop, and fling it at others.

Clear eyes simply see. Here is what is happening, and here is me, starting to react. And then, the big question. Will I choose to have a breath, and choose another way — will I respond rather than react?

If I choose a response, clear eyes let me “see” what to do next. And almost always, what we choose to do next is act in a way that is compassionate.

Idea # 3 — short of being confronted with physical violence, compassion must win out

It’s no coincidence that, when Buddhism came to China, Kung Fu was an almost immediate result. Great exercise, great was to burn of aggression, but also a great defensive tool — as monasteries were easy targets.

Defenselessness is the game wimps play — it’s not spiritual, or holy — it’s passive-aggressive behaviour.

when confronted with physical violence, feel free to let fly.

Otherwise, get over yourself. Aiming an emotion at another is always the opposite of compassion.

Getting defensive, getting angry, blaming, doing a “It’s for your own good” lecture, sobbing, melting down — all are games played by manipulators — each designed to get the other person to “behave.”

Compassion is “sitting with.”

What that looks like is dialogue. It’s acceptance that we do not see things the same (none of us do) and never will. It’s reaching the point where:

” I choose to accept that “this is where you are.” And given that, here is my choice of response.”

It’s finding an action that is in keeping with your principles, without expecting others to agree. It’s then implementing and living out of your principles, without apology.

Idea # 4 — Compassion builds as you build your foundation

Notice where your heart is. Yup. Right there in the centre of your chest. Heart energy runs from there, and can exit through the meridian exit point, located in the centre of your palms. When you wrap someone in your arms with compassion, they feel your energy radiating our of your hands (without knowing it) and that’s why heart-felt hugs “feel so good.”

You can’t exercise compassion with a shrivelled, tiny, contained, stunted, protected heart. No matter how hard you try.

So, you find ground. Through Qi Gong, through Meditation, and through owning who you are, and what you value.

Strengthened, you enter into, and fully embrace your passions — and after embracing them, you let them flow by repeatedly enacting each and every one of them. Fully.

You direct your passion, and own all of it as you.

It’s you, whether you acknowledge it or not, but blocking “knowing yourself” means a half-lived life.

In that knowing, you see clearly how you block, stop, mess with yourself. And then, you chose, again and again, to act from compassion as opposed to repression.

From there, you step into your heart, and hold yourself and others in the embrace of compassion

Idea # 5 — compassion, enacted

Having a good thought is nice, I guess, but having a good action actually accomplishes something. And often, especially in the early going, compassion is expressed as “No.”

No to yourself, each time you come up with another reason to blame others or circumstances for you sitting there, playing with your shit.

No to others, who want you to behave, to not rock the boat, to do it their way.

It’s a simple no, not a no with explanations. You owe no one an explanation. Mostly, explanations come from defensiveness. Or, you’re looking for another to agree with your decision. “I’ve thought it through, evaluated my choices, and no, I won’t be doing that.” “Here is what I choose to do.” If pressed to “Explain yourself, young (wo)man!” (how old are you, again???) you simply repeat yourself.

And then, you act. You do what you say you’ll do, as perfectly and attachment — free as possible. And then you evaluate, and fine tune.

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10 Things Your Mommy Forgot to Tell You

10 Things Your Mommy Forgot to Tell You — We are taught from birth to only notice certain things. This is the process of socialization.

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I’m calling this week’s article, “10 Things Your Mommy Forgot to Tell You,” — and I’m doing this in a sort of tongue-in-cheek way. But only sort of.

One of the key ingredients to actually waking up is becoming aware of what’s really going on. Mostly, as the quote mis-attributed to R. D. Laing reminds us,

“The range of what we think and do is limited by what we fail to notice. And because we fail to notice that we fail to notice there is little we can do to change. Until we notice how failing to notice shapes our thoughts and deeds.”

I want to unpack this briefly before getting to the list.

Failing to notice is conditioned behavior.

What I mean by this, is that we are taught from birth to only notice certain things. This is the process of socialization. It is, in its essence, the same for all of us, no matter where we live.

I think of this as our cultural or tribal upbringing. But it of course begins with our parents.Everyone knows that their deeply held, core beliefs are as old as the hills.

These beliefs, coupled with societal repression, cause us to want to pull in, behave ourselves, fit in, blame others for our misery, and spend our lives complaining rather than doing something about it.

It’s the main theme in the book, “Revolutionary Road,” which I assume carried through into the movie. The main characters spend their lives pointing their fingers at the society they belong to judging it to be inadequate, a failure, empty and meaningless, and yet find the ways and means to stay totally immersed in the same society.

Our tribal and cultural beliefs are sort of like rubber bands or bungee cords.

You bump up against them and they yield, sort of like pushing against a rubber sheet. Then, boom, right back where you started.

To do things differently, you have to cut through them, and yet they always remain somewhat attached to us.

Thus, as we press to be more self expressive and more self-actualized, the bungee cord of our socialization tries desperately to pull us back down into the fold.

Anyway, my point is this: we are who we are because of our conditioning, and most people are therefore living lives using 10% of their potential. Or to quote R. D. Laing again,

“From the moment of birth, when the stone-age baby confronts the twentieth-century mother, the baby is subjected to these forces of violence, called love, as its mother and father have been, and their parents and their parents before them. These forces are mainly concerned with destroying most of its potentialities. This enterprise is on the whole successful.”  [emphasis mine]

The weirdest part of all this, and the reason I keep quoting R. D. Laing, is that our erroneous beliefs are so deeply buried that we don’t even know that they’re there. Instead, we minimize our symptoms:

You might find yourself with some sort of mental challenge, like sadness, or ennui, or worse.Your body might be a tight little ball of stress, you might find yourself getting sick a lot, or eventually even progress to having some kind of major disease.You might find yourself in a relationship that isn’t working, and are doing something “brilliant” like, “staying for the kids.”There is the underlying sense of “quiet desperation” that Thoreau noticed.

What I see happening, all the time is that people tell me that something I said or wrote really struck a nerve. They got it(!!!) and it was like someone turned on the light. Except that in most cases, someone had said the same thing many many times before.

They just hadn’t heard it. Until they did.

Or, as Joe Vitale puts it,

“First, you must realize that you don’t know what you don’t know. Your results are a product of what you have been taught and learned over your life, not because you consciously chose those beliefs. Once you recognize that your beliefs may be irrational or self-limiting, you can consciously choose to change.” Joe Vitale, Expect Miracles, page 108

The crux: “… you don’t know what you don’t know.” This is a great line. It’s the same as, “failing to notice, until you notice.” Or, try it this way: “You don’t know that you don’t know.”

This is because our upbringing is all about forcing us into a mold before we are able to even recognize there is a mold. When you think about it, it’s pretty hard to break out of the mold that you do not know is there.

So, here are 10 things your mommy forgot to tell you.
1. The way things are, is the way things are. Nothing means anything.

It is our nature to be meaning makers, so we are uncomfortable with the thought of meaningless events.

Because we learn to name things when we were little, we assume, first of all, that the name given is accurate, and that we are powerless to do anything about the thing we’ve named.

Many think it’s a big, scary world out there.

I see people creeping and slinking about, hoping that bad things won’t happen, hoping the bogeyman won’t get them. Or hoping that Trumpie will save them.

It’s quite odd. I often hear, “Well, there’s nothing I can do about that.” And I’m looking at the same situation, and see 10 or 20 things that could be done differently.

All that’s required is a change of perspective.

A thing is just a thing. How I relate to the thing is entirely my choice. Part of the discipline of self-actualization is to let go of thinking anything is intrinsically big or important.

This flies in the face of what mommy taught you: big people, especially mommy and daddy, are important, much bigger than you, and able to make you behave. You carry this with you as a fear of making waves.

The way out: situations and people are situations and people. The herd may behave toward such things in a certain way, but that’s not required. It is how it is until you change your relationship with it — from your side.

2. No one is out to get you.

It’s natural for little kids to be afraid of things that go bump in the dark. I can’t stress enough how difficult it is for us to remember how absolutely weird and terrifying the world was when we were little.

It’s likely why most people can’t remember much before age 6. I suspect that if you have memories that go back before age 6 or so, they are implanted memories.—things you know you have been told about but have no direct recollection of.

When were small, everything was a threat.

Think about it. We don’t know that falling down the stairs can kill us. We don’t know that glowing coils on a stove means hot. We don’t know that some of the big people around us do not have our best interests at heart, and may be more interested in what we can do for them than what they can do for us.

Our parents, quite rightfully, teach us to be fearful.

This deep-seated fear, however, is supposed to be in place only until we’re older.

Being self-sufficient and self-actualized means being able to tell a threat from childish fear. And here’s a hint: 99% of it is a childish fear.

The way out: see point 1. Things are exactly as they are. Becoming a self-actualized adult requires being able to differentiate.
While people are definitely self-centered in their actions, most of the herd is painfully non-self-aware. It’s sort of like they’re just blundering along, and many of them have big feet. Our job is to be nimble, step out of the way, and let them plod on.
They’re not out to get us — they barely even see us.
Our job is to be like water — to bring aikido to our lives — we step out of the way, without judgment.

3. No one is coming.

This is a slogan that hung on my therapist’s wall.

Back when we were small, when we wailed are pitched a fit, an adult showed up and made it all better.

Or, if we came from a dysfunctional family, something bad might have happened when we made a noise, but at least something happened.

The expectation was, “I am in pain — you fix it — change it, make it better.”

Lots of folk pull this with their partners — they expect that if they whine long enough and complain loud enough, their partner will be so moved by love, or manipulation, that they will make the boo-boo all better.

If, for some silly reason, the partner tries, then the expectation is this will always happen. If the partner refuses, they’re being stubborn and unloving.

The problem is that rescue is an inside job…

at least for adults. There is no external rescue, not from a partner, not from your relatives, and not from some magical being up in the sky. There is just you, and the life you have created.

The way out: accept total, personal responsibility for who you are, where you are, and what you are doing. Until you give up your belief in external rescue, you are doomed to be “somebody’s baby.”

4. No one will ever love you like mommy and daddy love you.

Lots of dysfunctional fathers and mothers do teach this lesson. They are totally unwilling to let their kids grow up.

They play games to keep the “kids” dependent: to call home, to get permission–and thus to remain childlike adults.

This plays out in many ways.

Some 40 and 50-year-olds are still trying to please their parents — to do what their parents want them to do — and may be stuck in careers they hate, doing stuff they detest, all to get a nod of approval from good old mom and dad.

Others disapprove of who their parents are, and spend decades trying to get them to change — to be the kind of parents they wanted as opposed to the ones they had.

Still others spend decades trying to prove their parents wrong.

Parents raise us the way they do because they have to get us to adulthood — in other words, they have to see to it that we survive. They kiss our owies, pretend they can make things all better, and are our principal arbiters of truth.

They tell us what to think and how to interpret our life experiences.

The key here is, they’re supposed to stop doing this when we grow up. Many do, and will thereafter treat us as adults. Some won’t, and will cling to parenthood– and to bossing their adult children around until they die. That’s just the way it is.

The way out: grow up and get over yourself. While you may choose to be in relationship with your parents until they die, the roles need to change. They need to become adults, and so do you.

Continually vetting your decisions or taking your problems to mommy and daddy is the mark of a fixation on infantile-ism. It’s a cop out.

You’re looking, again, outside of yourself for permission to be who you are.

As an adult, as a self-actualized person, it is always okay to relay data — never okay to ask someone else for permission to be you.

5. Self-exploration is not selfish — it’s essential to discover who you are

Selfish means not sharing your toys. Parents want their children to share, to work together with other people, and to be popular.

Parents would also prefer that their children behave themselves according to the parents’ standards, so they “invite” us to do it their way.

Back in 1968, I had to select which college or university I was going to go to. I had a free ride scholarship to any university in New York State, of which there was at least one in Buffalo.

Mom really wanted me to stay home and go to school in Buffalo.

I decided to go to Elmhurst, Illinois for my BA. Mom said, “Typical. Always thinking of himself.” I smiled, shook my head, and went anyway. I mean, it was my BA, after all!

Self-exploration requires us to step out of others’ expectations. To step out of the herd.

But the pull of the herd is strong, and many, many people will tell you that too much introspection will lead to all sorts of terrible things. What they are really telling you is how scared they are of self-exploration. And then they see you doing it, or trying it, and they freak out.

The way out: You have to discover, through therapy, bodywork, meditation, whatever — what you don’t know — about yourself and about the way the world works.

Not the herd world, but the real, underlying one.

We all need people in our lives who can help us to see what we’re missing — such people are rare, but are there if you look. They have nothing invested in what you can do for them — they’re there to help you open your eyes and truly see. Go find them. Move heaven and earth to work with them, for as long as it takes.

6. Wisdom is different from intelligence

Our society values intelligence – stacking up of more and more data.

There’s nothing wrong with this. It’s just not the whole picture.

Whole picture seeing is a way to describe wisdom. Wisdom is more about putting together than tearing apart. It’s about seeing things as a flow — learning the ways things work together — as opposed to forming judgments, theories, or explanations.

Wisdom is engaging in life as opposed to discussing life.

The way out: choose wisdom.

It’s not easy to be wise while trying to fit in to a herd that prizes brute intelligence.

The wise, in a sense, seem way too simple. They’re not interested in getting involved in deep and meaningful discussions that lead nowhere.

They’re more interested in experimentation — with their lives, with their experiences, with their relationships.

If something works, they do more of it, if something does not work, they stop doing it. Way too simple.

Yet wisdom is the only key that opens the door to true understanding and self-actualization. Cultivating wisdom is the mark of an adult.

7. “Play nice together” is boring

Mom and dad had a vested interest in our being popular. It meant they were good parents. They basked in the reflected glow off their kid’s cherubic little head.

While my mention of herd mentality may be getting boring, you really have got to get this.

We behave ourselves and act nice so as not to offend the herd.

Or at least that’s what we fear will happen if we “let it all hang out.”

The odd piece is that most everyone is bored, bored, bored — bored with cocktail party chatter, bored with meaningless relationships, bored both in the bedroom and in the boardroom.

And I’ve noticed a correlation. Nice people often end up as doormats for the plodding feet of the masses to trod upon. Even odder, most doormats look up from the floor and thank the people walking over them — “Thank you! So glad to be of service!”

The way out: put a little charge into your life. Experiment with new things. Say what’s on your mind, with elegance, not with anger. Be forthright and honest. This is not a prescription to be a jerk. This is a suggestion that boring is… well… boring. And it’s not like you get a second chance, or a do-over, for your life. Put more of you out there, just because you want to — not for approval.

8. Take a risk

I think my mom and dad did a pretty good job bringing me up and letting me go. Mom had some hanging-on issues, but in general their support and encouragement was excellent.

While perhaps they stepped in a bit too often to keep me from failing at something, after 17 or so they definitely let me stand on my own two feet.

Chiefly, they taught me to take risks.

Now, this flies in the face of most parenting today. It’s like parents want their kids to be encased in a bubble.

Parents seem invested in protecting their kids from everything. Germs. The bogeyman. Whatever. Never mind that for 100,000 generations kids have been surviving just fine without being bathed in antiseptic. Modern parents know better — the herd tells them so.

The way out: you may have to force yourself, but it’s essential to start taking risks — and by this I mean doing things that are out of your comfort zone. This could be anything from learning to kayak to climbing mountains — to building a new skill set in an area that interests you — invest more in a general exploration of what turns you on.

It may be deciding to experience your feelings, emotions, and the flow of energy in your body, as opposed to blocking or resisting feeling. It may involve leaving one thing or relationship and starting another. Whatever.

You already know what you need to explore next — it’s the thing you’re scaring yourself over.

9. Choose your own bean

As in bean counters.

We learn measures of self-worth from our tribes. In the West, this often has to do with money, possessions, power, and accumulation.

Somehow we’ve been sold a bill of goods that to have more is to be more. So we end up with people with lots of stuff and very little satisfaction.

I therefore encourage my clients to figure out what they’re measuring their self-worth against.

This is not to make light of education, degrees, job titles etc. This is not an exercise in doing away with cultural markers. It’s an exercise in expansion.

If all you ever do is measure yourself against others, if all you ever do is connect your self worth to the height of your pile, you’re likely always going to feel low self-worth — like you just don’t quite measure up.

The way out: I’d like to suggest that an elegant “bean” to use is this — do I know more about myself today? In other words, the mark of progress is in your personal level of self understanding, being self responsible, and being self-actualized. I spend my life removing items from the “I do not know that about myself” list, while adding items to the “Here is what I do and here is who I am” list. Find yourself. A bit more and a bit more each day.

10. Drop all lists

Everyone has a lot of lists, a lot of rules and regulations, and many concepts for living tucked away in the recesses of their minds.

Lists, in and of themselves, while easy to read, are inherently useless. Many, many people confuse having a list with having wisdom — confuse having a list with doing something.

The way out: while there is some truth to the corny quote, “I am a human be-ing not a human do-ing,” the mark of full, authentic being is encapsulated in what you do.

Thinking about doing is silly. (This is not to say that planning is silly — this is to say that most people stop with the plan and never get around to doing.)

Many people have plans — about all the things they’re going to do — about how deeply they’re going to self explore.

And then they pull out the other list. This is a list that provides all of the excuses — all the reasons why the first list cannot be enacted now. Not enough time, not enough money, not the right people, not the right relationships, and on and on. But they sure are pleased that they’ve at least got a list. Phooey.

Drop the list making and get on with the walk.

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Finding Bliss

Finding Bliss — We’re working through some ideas around living from a more authentic version of yourself. Today, let’s look at this through the lens of bliss.

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** Want more great writing designed to help YOU to shift your behaviour?

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Last week, we talked about Getting Unstuck. Today, let’s have a look at bliss.

Here’s a definition of bliss:

supreme happiness; utter joy or contentment

The key words are “supreme” and “utter”

The contentment and happiness that occurs with bliss is not conditional, limited, or linked to externals.

As I wrote last week, the essence of who we are is already complete and present in us—although much of the more ‘interesting stuff” has likely been locked away in our subconscious or unconscious.

Bliss is who we are

Bliss might be seen as what is left over after we stop messing with ourselves. This was mainly the Buddha’s point. The trouble we get ourselves into, the despair, the judgements, the longing–all come from the games we create.

Here’s a story from my (out of print) book,
Stories from the Sea of Life:

Just a Note! Back in 1994, My first book, Stories From the Sea of Life was published. It’s now out of print, BUT is available as a pdf file. If you’d like to read more of the stories contained therein, amble over to my book site, The Phoenix Centre Press. Once there, subscribe to the site’s mailing list, and you’ll get the pdf for FREE!

I just remembered the one and only time I ever cheated at school. I was in University, my first year, and our class had the dubious honor of taking this stupid thing called “Common Course.” Common Course was a non-grade, pass/fail, required course that was supposed to help us understand the politics and literature of the 60’s. (This being 1968, the school was being “politically correct.”) We called Common Course a “bird course” — not a term of endearment.

My roommate, Randy, was in a different Common Course Section from me. His Prof. assigned a three page paper on some stupid topic or another. I can’t remember what it was about. Randy agonized over that paper. For days. He couldn’t figure out what to write. He desperately wanted to “get it right.” I kept telling him that the course was pass/fail. All he had to do was submit three pages about anything. He blocked. He refused. He got depressed.

It was amazing to watch. He did no work on his other classes. He was falling behind. He spoke less and less. He talked about dropping out. I sat there, looking at the situation, and couldn’t see what the fuss was about. Write a three page paper and be done with it.

From my perspective, there was no problem. From Randy’s perspective, the problem was the size of Mount Everest. Finally, it was the night before the paper was due. Randy was getting nowhere, so he went for a walk. I was pretty annoyed with him.

Suddenly, I was transported into Randy’s head. Somehow, I could taste his pain, his frustration … even though, on a logical level, it still made no sense to me. I focused on Randy, not on my pat solutions. The answer appeared.

When Randy came back, there was a three page report sitting on his desk. He read it, and his depression lifted. I got a lesson in being non-judgemental, and how much more important actions are than words.

This is how we create our dramas.

Randy was a wise soul, who taught me many things in his short life, (he was also physically short, but I digress…)

In general, he was incredibly stable (despite the reality of his life—coming out in 1969—no mean feat—and ultimately contracting and dying from AIDS…) and gently focussed.

He did everything calmly and with verve.

And then, along came this paper.

Randy, get this, was a Straight A student. He never broke a sweat. So, what happened?

I don’t know what was going on in his head, but the “affect” was that he was morose, wasn’t eating, not sleeping, sighing a lot—he was torturing himself. He’d gone from bliss to hell.

I guess I was born a therapist, as I knew I’d be doing this work from a young age. I, however, had much to learn.

I wanted him to see that there was no issue, and so, for 3 weeks I pointed out the flaws in his logic. No soap, as he was spending 24/7 building up the stories of doom and failure.

He’d say, “You just don’t understand!” And he was right. What he was missing was that he didn’t understand. The paper was neutral. His stories were killing him.

Actions Speak

So, that last last night, I had an epiphany. I realized (and continue to realize…) that stories are powerful. Paralyzing, profound, and painful. (alliteration 101)

I decided to shift gears and head in another direction. I decided to shock to his system by removing the obstacle, so he could see his stories and games.

So, I broke a hard and fast rule: “Wayne never cheats.”

I wrote the paper for him, and left it on his desk. He came in, read it, and I just watched. The change was fascinating. His eyes filled, he looked at me and said, simply, “Thanks!” Within a minute, his smile was back.

Now, my point is this.

Things don’t change because you want them to, and don’t change if you simply stare at them and hope.

When we eliminate or “dial down” the fantasies, stories, dramas and games, we find the bliss of “what is.” From there, we can do anything, Thus:

Bliss is the lack of stories, or better put, it’s simple reality, writ large.

You must shift your thinking, your judgements and your perceptions of what’s going on.

Now, you could argue that I shifted Randy perception of the situation, but that is inaccurate. I had exactly a 50/50 chance with my ploy.

I knew that throwing logic at him had not worked. I could have kept trying what wasn’t working (as many of you are now doing the things that are not working for you…) or I could shift my behaviour… and see.

This time, Randy chose to shift himself. The paper I wrote him was not salvation, it was a catalyst.

This is what excellent teachers, great therapists provide: games, shifts, pokes and prods. What you choose to do with the “prod” is entirely up to you.

In a sense, the appearance of that paper allowed Randy to pause. In the pause, he chose to stop blowing smoke, and to see through the “doom and failure” story.

Bliss is life, unpacked.

Bliss just is. Right here, right now. Our only job is to shock ourselves out of dumb complacency and the stuckness of our stories—not into another story, but into being and presence.

Mostly, what we discover is that “it is what it is,” and nothing much is happening. Once we see this, what is “right here” is perfect.

The top picture of Darbella is from the Kitchener Blues festival. You might have guessed that we were outside, in the rain.

We were listening to the amazing guitar player and singer Jeff Healey. The rain was persistent… and irrelevant. We’d have missed something amazing had we packed up, or had we sat there feeling sorry for ourselves.

And if we’d waited to “catch him next time,” we’d have missed out, as several months later he died.

Sometimes it rains, sometimes the sun shines. Sometimes it’s dark, sometimes it’s light. Sometimes we are “up,” sometimes down. It is as it is, it’s all as it should be, and beneath any of our stories is bliss.

No matter what.

Be yourself, live your talent, make a difference, and drop the stories. All of them.

Thanks for that lesson, Randy. I miss you.

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Getting Unstuck

Getting Unstuck — There are techniques to increase our ability to live from our skill set. Here are a few.

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This Endless Moment.

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I do love it when you comment!

Here are two, following last week’s article on Surviving Talent:

Err, you seem to be assuming that everyone has a talent, perhaps some repressed artistic ability etc,. Personally I don‘t have any that others would value, though I like writing, painting etc. In your example the person has exceptional ability that you and others can see. My problem is how does that relate to us mediocre artists.

And:

I find it so amazing to be with my kids in school and seeing all the different children with their sprouting talents. It’s pretty easy to spot at an early age, 2nd grade and 4th grade. I so want to embrace my kids’ passions and talents, encourage them, let their little lights shine. I’m looking forward to hearing about how to recover my passions and talents, they have been so buried. I want to let my kids see and watch my own growth not just hear my words. It’s so much more powerful to be an example.

The first comment addresses an important issue. Let me unpack.

Yes, I do believe that everyone had talent—where I go off the rails is that I tend to use “art” illustrations to make my “talent” point. The issue with a word like “talent” is that it is mostly applied to artists and actors.

Much of my own skill set is in graphics arts like painting and photography, and, of course, I write. A lot. I was also a pretty good psychotherapist (given my gift for gab…)

Not what I mean, though. I’m not talking about artistry, but rather about Mastery.

A great Zen story: The abbot at a Zen Monastery died. The Monastery needed a new abbot, so another abbot was sent to pick one. He interviewed all of the monks, but was not satisfied.
He went to the kitchen for a bite to eat, and noticed the cook carving meat. With great skill. They struck up a conversation.
Abbot: Your knife-work is excellent.
Cook: Sharp knife, great care. I avoid the bones.
Abbot: How often do you sharpen your knife?
Cook: Once–24 years ago, –when I became the cook.
The cook was immediately installed as the abbot.

In Zen, we speak of “skillful means.” This is the application of talent to the task at hand. Therefore, one might be a skillful communicator, a skillful parent, or a skillful mathematician. My dad, for example, was all of these.

Secondly, note the clause, “…that others would value…” This was a huge issue for my clients. People get stuck on “others” because they are concerned with how “whatever it is they’re thinking of making, doing or being” will come across to others.

This outward-looking comes from our upbringing.

Good parents ask questions, less elegant parents provide judgements.

Asking a child, “What does your (project) mean?” is open-ended, and takes away any critique.

Saying,“You’ll never be an artist” begs the question, “According to whom?”

I suspect everyone either knows about, or can unearth (see below) their skill-set. The lucky few may have picked up on it as children and just carried on into an adult career. Others discovered something perking during University, or young adulthood.

I think immediately of a young man, who is deaf, that Dar taught. He loved carpentry. Dar found ways for him to build stuff at school, got him into a College carpentry program.He works for a furniture company, and in his spare time goes to 3rd world countries on building projects. This is talent, being applied.

The second comment

Notice how this teacher can spot the “not yet repressed” talents her students possess. Good teachers and parents can do a ton to encourage students/kids to follow their own lead, and keep passionate talent alive.

When I was in grade 11, we had a student teacher in our English class for a whole year. Kathy was a great teacher, quite funny, and adorable to look at, just what a 16-year-old wants.

But what I remember most was her focus on getting me to write. She didn’t let me get away with lazy writing, was honest with me, yet deeply encouraging. This is mentoring at its best.

Here’s a line from the above quote:

“I’m looking forward to hearing about how to recover my passions and talents, they have been so buried. I want to let my kids see and watch my own growth, not just hear my words. It’s so much more powerful to be an example.”

Notice the “…they have been so buried…” clause. In Wayne-speak, this would be: “I have, and continue to, bury my talent.”

I’m not nit-picking.

I would then suggest she say,

“I notice my tendency to stifle my talent, and here is what I will do right now, to change that.”

99% of therapy is helping clients to motivate themselves to do something. Or better, to stop stopping themselves, while starting a new behaviour. Many, most, are addicted to behaviour patterns that are getting them nowhere.

Here are Eight ways to get on with letting yourself be you.

1) Start with your senses

Passion is the word we use to describe the pleasant, hot, tingly, energetic feeling we get when we choose to turn ourselves on.

I was, for example, at a classical music concert, and a violin solo brought me to tears. I did not take from that that I should learn to play violin, but that I miss going to classical music concerts. I have a talent for immersing myself in music.

Dedicate time to exploring your senses.

Touch: Go for a massage, and for bodywork. Roll around in sand. Dance. As you do, just be with the feeling. Make physical contact. Hug more.Sight: Go to a gallery. Go to a mall and look at people. Watch a visually stimulating movie. Stare into someone’s eyes, gently, for 5 minutes.Sound: Go to a concert or two. Learn and practice good communication. Tell a friend a story from your life that is meaningful,Smell: go to a greenhouse, a cheese factory, a farm, a Lush store. Pay attention to the stories the smells generate for you.Taste: Eat, drink, be merry—try new things, experiment with the familiar, and share the experience with a friend or two.

All of this is designed to get you firmly in your body, having a full-bodied experience. This is how passion is re-ignited.

2) Visualize

Close your eyes. Imagine visiting an old, interesting house. As you open the front door, recognize the house as “your secret house.” Go in, look around, see what’s there. Perhaps each room represents a period in your life. As you walk around, look for signs of what interested you as a child, a teen, etc. Make note, mentally, of what you discover.

3) Shadow dancing

Same house, but head for the Shadow room. (You’ll find it!) It’s pretty dark in there, eh?

Imagine dim light, and a place to sit or lie down. Imagine that the room is filled with things about yourself that you have forgotten, neglected, or been scared by.

Imagine that you are safe and secure, and can look at the contents, one at a time, sort of like being in a movie. Invite one thing to come forward, and ask it to explain itself.

4) Do something challenging

It might be having an honest conversation, performing at a talent time, singing in the shower, dressing differently, eating a food you’ve resisted, riding a zip line, sky diving, or spending time alone (without distractions.)

Meditate every day for a month. Walk every day, no iPod, just looking. Spend time with someone who does what you want to do, and pick their brain.

5) Take a course

Think of something you might be passionate about. Find a course at a community college, local teaching centre, library, wherever, enroll and see what happens.

One fiend wanted to learn furniture-making. She not only enrolled, she talked several friends into it too. Her house is rapidly filling with projects. Is she Duncan Fife? Does it matter?

6) Up your tolerance for yourself

We mostly stop ourselves (self-sensor) out of the fear, “What will everyone think (of me)?” Answer: whatever (if anything) they think.

Spending your life hiding accomplishes precisely nothing. And nothing can give you the courage to act. All you can do is act.

Critics will be critics. Many are intimidated by success, or even by people who just do stuff. They say, “You can’t do, think, be… that.”

What they really mean is they are making themselves uncomfortable, and rather than deal with their own issues, they demand that you stop doing what they are making themselves uncomfortable over.

You are who you are, and you likely are a lot more “interesting” than you let on, or let out. Time to let go of checking over your shoulder to see if an adult is watching, to become who you really are, and to make real what you’ve been hiding.

7) Show others

To use the above illustration, the teacher could pick a group of top students, and form an after school, “Make Magic” club. Each person would state a project they want to do (a talent they want to work on) and the rest of the group provides feedback and encouragement.

The teacher could lead with a project of her own.

And you don’t need to be a teacher to do this. Start your own “club” with people you trust, and have at it!

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Surviving Talent

Surviving Talent — Talent is often hidden, having been repressed for fear of standing forth. There are ways to re-engage with the talent just beneath the surface.

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Talent was not rare; the ability to survive having it was.

Neal Stephenson, “Quicksilver”

I really don’t think the context for this quote is all that important, but the line comes from one of the protagonists observing Isaac Newton as a child. Other kids attempt first to mock him, then to bully him, then to beat him up. (None of which was successful in the least.)

The narrator is commenting about the nature of social pressure, as it is exerted against those who stand out.

Let’s see what we can see!

Talent was (is) not rare

So, September 2024 was the 40th anniversary of my beginning my training as a psychotherapist. (He says that with a small sigh and shake of head…) Without boring you, here’s how that goes: you’re in class a lot, you work with 10 clients a week, and you’re supervised.

Back then, that meant being observed through two-way-glass or video. Twice a year, there’s a written evaluation, again two-way. You answer essay questions about who you are and how you’re doing, and your supervisor does the same.

In my second year, my supervisor wrote, in her first evaluation, “Wayne often has much higher expectations for his clients than they have,” as if this was a problem. In later discussion, she said she thought this approach might lead to disappointment on my part, and too much pressure for my clients.

At the end of second year, she wrote, “Wayne continues to have much higher expectations for his clients, and he is almost always right.” I just smiled. I had realized I could see my clients’ talents and potential, and I was not about to ignore it.

Talent is not rare. For most, it’s simply been buried under years of neglect and dis-use. It’s been put down by significant adults during childhood, beaten out of them through criticism and threat, and finally given up on as a pipe dream.

Example: Through grade 3, I was a straight “A” student. One day, in grade 4, I was walking home with a hulking dude named Danny.

Here’s an interesting tidbit: he carried a switchblade knife in his boot, and took it out once in class, when I was trying to strip a wire. The teacher said, “Thank you for sharing Danny, now put that back in your boot.”

And hey! We all lived!

Anyway, Danny lived across the street, and we walked home together a lot.

One day, he said, “You know, I don’t have a single friend that gets good grades.” Now, there was no threat—but to my 9‑year-old mind, it sounded like, “If you want to be my friend, You’d better “dumb down.” So I did—I became a “C” student for a year or so. As simple as that.

Imagine what happens when real pressure is exerted by adults

Danny is a benign example. Here’s another, with a bit more pizazz.

There once was a woman we knew, who basically, at 28, was stumbling along, putting in time. She was in a dead end job, failed marriage, failing relationship, “numb” sexually, unhappy and shut down.

She started spending time with Darbella and me. One day, she described her “growing up” environment.

She told us that was continually painting and drawing. Mom and dad wanted her to be a doctor. Quoth they: “We support the arts–we don’t make art!”

Her parents, both doctors, repeatedly took away her art supplies. She’d find ways to draw. Finally, though, she just gave up. She rebelled, by dropping out of school, etc.

She showed me a photo of a painting she’d done, on a whim, with no training, and it was stunning.

After a while hanging out with us and hearing “encouraging words,” she went back to school, and started painting. We lost contact with her, but I don’t think she ultimately stuck with it. She declared “game over” in her 30s, because,

Talent was not rare; the ability to survive having it was.

Why?

Because surviving while having talent is tricky

Our culture, probably forever, and especially in the last several decades, prizes “fitting in” while blaming others over visible expressions of talent. Oh, we’re willing to read about talented people, and we give lip service to wanting our “kids” to be talented, but only if they don’t rock the boat, and still fit in.

Again and again, I see parents force feeding their kids this “party line”—fit in, don’t make waves, be reasonable, don’t have “unacceptable emotions,” etc.

Or, my personal favourite, telling their kids to excel, while refusing to bring forth their own talent and passion. “Do as I say, not as I do” is the motto.

And the talented who are also “out of the closet of repression” shake their heads and wish for a “better day.”

We’ve all been conditioned to dial down our passion and our creativity, to refuse to “go for it, damn the consequences,” and the world is poorer because of it.

I look at people, and see their potential—their blocked or poorly used talent, which to my eyes, is just under the surface. And I see their posture, and hear the words of the beaten down, who have forgotten what lies right there.

I attempt to shine a bit of light, hold up a mirror, to help others open the floodgates and get a glimmer of what’s available. Some of them get it, embrace it, and start living their talent, their passion.

Mostly, I watch this curious phenomenon, like what our artist friend, in the illustration above, chose:

They open themselves up just a bit, stick a toe in, then swim in the creative flow, sigh with relief. And then they tighten, re-play the old, old story, and things go back to normal.

They do as they were told, except as they get older and become parents, they are now doing the telling–the restricting.

Talent is hard to survive.

Unless you choose to let the blocked, inhibited, shut down version of you “die,” unless you choose to face the fear, the bullying, the restrictions head on, and step through.

Then you discover that what was holding you back are your stories, and your stories are as insubstantial as smoke.

And there you are, as you are, and acting in a new, clearer and more “in the flow” way, in your relationships, as you produce your magic, has the power to change everything.

But only if you choose not just to survive your talent, but to embrace it.

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As Within, so Without pt 2

As within, so without — Thinking and acting need to match. We are what we think. Our work proceeds from inner to outer.

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Half Asleep in the Buddha Hall.
Wayne’s “Eastern” book takes you by the hand and helps you to find peace of mind. Half Asleep in the Buddha Hall is a Zen-based guide to living life fully and deeply.

So, “as within, so without” is an old saw, an expression we all know and give lip service to. It is a cousin to the idea that “the world is exactly as you perceive it to be.”

One of the first usages of expression was in the famous book by James Allen, As a Man Thinketh.

Allen wrote,

As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.
All that a man achieves and all that he fails to achieve is the direct result of his own thoughts.
James Allen

This idea is a “lift” from the Buddha, who said,

“We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.”

This knowing has to do with all of the levels of our “within.”

In Bodywork circles, it’s quite the debate as to whether the way we think and then act leads to bodily conditions, or whether the way we carry ourselves leads to the way we act and think.

It’s likely both.

Often, for example, getting someone to stand in neutral posture, as opposed to curling their shoulders or slouching will result in an immediate change, for the better, in their mood.

Equally as important is the recognition of the power of the way we choose to view our reality and our life stories.

For many, there is no choice at all. The ego project, that great effort at civilizing us and giving us an additional framework to understand our reality, builds deep-seated beliefs into us.

For the majority, the beliefs of “society” are the only beliefs they consider.

Or, as is the case with a few of my friends, holding anti-society beliefs is the norm. (You say black, I say white. Every time. No choice.)

People saying, “That’s just the way it is,” is a good indication of this belief-set.

It’s when we start to resist the games we’ve formerly played — when we start finding them constricting and overwhelming, that the drama (and the growth) starts.

Many, many people, however, never get to the point of actively challenging their belief systems. Complaining about being stuck, attending seminars and workshops, reading books… none of this is indicative of anything resembling a shifting of perspective and behaviour.

As in the quote from James Allen, (where outside action matches inside intent) the process requires actually doing something about how we are stuck.

To say it again, it’s an inside job that turns into a change in external behaviour.

A yoga instructor friend described this the other day:

“I used to worry about how my students would see me and my class. Today, I calmed myself, examined my body, and decided upon what kind of practice I needed. I taught that practice, and I was fully present for it. My students really liked the practice, but that isn’t as important to me as being fully into my practice. From there, I am a much more grounded and elegant teacher.”

I’m reminded of a quote from Anaïs Nin, one of my favourite writers and people.

She went off to France in the 20s to find herself, and one of her routes to finding herself was to write erotic tales, which an anonymous benefactor paid her for. (see Delta of Venus.)

Her benefactor was quite critical of her early writing; he thought it was stilted and not very erotic.

So, Nin made a clever leap. She realized that she could not write about something she hadn’t experienced directly and intimately.

So, she went out and began to have erotic and sexual experiences.

She wrote:

“And the day came when the risk it took to remain
tightly closed in a bud was more painful
than the risk it took to bloom.“
Anais Nin

In this quote, Nin describes an arc of self-knowing that starts where the start belongs.

Imagine the silliness and futility of Nin running around having experiences that flew totally in the face of her internal belief system. If she had made that choice, every action would have set off alarm bells and whistles, and she’d have been so caught in the judgements and the recriminations that her life would have come to a standstill.

Instead, she examined herself, to determine what she was capable of. She discovered and threw out her outmoded beliefs, decided to see what she could learn by being open to new experiences, and began a life-time of actually walking her newly chose path.

As within, so without.

The key to this approach is the commitment to making a choice and seeing it through. Some people just think and never act. Other people “just act,” without much thought or commitment. And the guilt starts.

To me, acting and then simply observing the result(s) — without pre or post judgement — seems the better choice.

Often, as the process deepens, new material emerges. It can run the gamut from deep-seated fear and grief to “orgasmic“overwhelming” passion and feeling.

The internal commitment necessary is this: “No matter what comes up, I’m going to experience it fully.”

This will require “living with” while suspending judgement. And guess what? It’s an inside job. Because that’s where the game primarily plays out. It manifests outside in the actual “having” of the internal experience.

This week, look at your internal theatre and descriptions. Look for sticking points in the story you tell yourself. Notice how those sticking points keep your external reality from being what you want it to be.

Then, go inside and begin to change your internal descriptions. But be pro-active. Not, “I’ll have to think about this for a while.” Rather, “Here is what I will think, and here is what I will do.”

As within, so without.

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