A Mindful Heart

Famous

2012-01-17T14:26:00.000-08:00

Here's another poem by Naomi Shihab Nye. Some time ago on May 18, 2009, I posted her poem, "Kindness" which has garnered more response than most of my posts.

This poem speaks to many things, among them the importance of fidelity to one's inner purpose and of the primacy of particularity. Like all effective poems, it speaks best for itself:

FAMOUS

The river is famous to the fish.

The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.

The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.

The idea you carry close to your bosom
is famous to your bosom.

The boot is famous to the earth,
more famous than the dress shoe,
which is famous only to floors.

The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it
and not at all famous to the one who is pictured.

I want to be famous to the shuffling men
who smile while crossing streets,
sticky children in grocery lines,
famous as the one who smiled back.

I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,
or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,
but because it never forgot what it could do.

—Naomi Shihab Nye

23 and 1/2 hours....

2011-12-13T17:14:00.000-08:00

Here's a short presentation on my favorite form of regular exercise: walking. I so enjoy walking! I never knew, really knew just how good it is until after seeing this little video.

Enjoy!

Your First Adventure

2011-11-30T20:58:00.001-08:00

The following video clip is about a quarter hour long. Though it is without words, I found it utterly captivating. I can find no words to do it justice.

Find 15 minutes. See for yourself.

Murmuration

2011-11-26T14:59:00.001-08:00

Here's a video clip that Steven Leak from The Golden Fish passed along my way. It shows an impressive flight of starlings over the Shannon River in Ireland. It happened that soon after viewing this video we saw a very similar (though much smaller) flight of starlings over a vineyard not far from our house.

Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.

This video appears on wired.com where you'll find an explanation of it.

It is pretty impressive.

Power of Nonviolence

2011-11-20T16:44:00.001-08:00

Forty plus years ago, I participated in a number of nonviolent anti-Vietnam war protests at Berkeley. I was among those students who were tear gassed.Had my generation of protesters been as disciplined and as non-violent as these UC Davis students who refused to disperse Friday, I believe our efforts would have been far more successful. I believe that the Vietnam war would have ended much sooner—sparing countless lives. The power of nonviolence is real.If you haven’t already seen the video of John Pike pepper spraying non-violent protesters, you can find it here. I found it quite upsetting to watch, especially the first part. I strongly encourage you to watch this clip all the way to the end. The clip is about eight and a half minutes long. You won’t want to miss the final 90 seconds. It shows the overwhelming power of disciplined nonviolence.

I’m going to guess that many Mindful Heart readers have yet to see this second clip of an assembly of students as the UC Davis Chancellor walks to her car. You see a stunning instance of the deafening power of non-violence.

Two further notes:

I understand that students pay approximately $12,000 each year in tuition. It’s now time to review and reduce the pay of police. According to the Sacramento Bee, last year Police lieutenant, John Pike, was paid—I cannot say he earned—a salary of about $110,000. His salary is a lot higher than those offered to instructors at UC Davis. This in unconscionable. His salary is, in my opinion, well out of proportion to his contribution to the education of the students who pay his salary.

Note Two
Under California law, the use of pepper spray in California is illegal unless used in self defense. There is NO exception in the law for police. This officer needs to face trial for this crime, along with the others who conspired to commit this assault against the protesters. The District Attorney should do jail time if he refuses to prosecute. California Penal Code Section 12403.7 (a) (8)(g) Any person who uses tear gas or tear gas weapons except in self-defense is guilty of a public offense and is punishable by imprisonment in a state prison for 16 months, or two or three years or in a county jail not to exceed one year or by a fine not to exceed one thousand dollars ($1,000), or by both the fine and imprisonment, except that, if the use is against a peace officer, as defined in Chapter 4.5 (commencing with Section 830) of Title 3 of Part 2, engaged in the performance of his or her official duties and the person

A Message of Hope

2011-11-14T18:06:00.001-08:00

Here's a TED talk, 10 minutes long, that might fill you with optimism for our future. Perhaps the ideas in this video can zing around the Internet and occupy our imaginations (and Occupy Movement discussions—it's always best to talk face to face) so we can get our priorities straight.

I think many others feel—as I do—keen frustration that the "leaders" of our country seem to serve so faithfully the interests of the already rich and powerful instead of the commoners like everyone I know.

Watch this TED talk and see what you think.

Do you agree we can do better than building more nuclear power plants?

Live Simply

2011-11-10T20:19:00.001-08:00

Here is a heart-felt message from a young man....

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)**

2011-11-05T20:24:00.000-07:00

As a kid growing up in California in the fifties and sixties I came to believe that the “me” I called Dan Gurney was separate from everything outside of my skin. I saw my situation as just another “Me versus the World” drama.

Inside I thought I was totally germ-free. To stay healthy I thought I needed to follow the rules of general hygiene and keep my environment as close to germ-free as possible.

Image credit: http://modaainc.blogspot.com

Since then I have gradually become aware that my boyhood ideas were quite incomplete. In the past several months I have come across several articles that make the point that most of the cells inside my skin aren’t even human cells.

For example, the California Monthly (a journal that comes to me from my alma mater, U.C. Berkeley) recently featured an piece titled “The Teeming Metropolis of You” by Brendan Buhler that begins:

You are mostly not you.That is to say that 90 percent of the cells residing in your body are not human cells, they are microbes. Viewed from the perspective of most of its inhabitants, your body is not so much the temple and vessel of the human soul as it is a complex and ambulatory feeding mechanism for a methane reactor in your small intestine.This is the kind of information microbiologists like to share at dinner parties....

My body, the one that I walk around in every day, could be regarded, quite reasonably, as a complex community of living microbes.

From this perspective, we look after multitudes of sentient beings when we look after our bodies and minds skillfully, you know, according to the advice grandpa (hopefully) taught you: getting enough rest, taking regular exercise, eating nutritious food and perhaps most important, cultivating a warm heart, a forgiving nature, and a contented outlook.

For me, knowing all this (I am large, I contain multitudes) is a happy twist on the Mahayana Bodhisattva vow to save all sentient beings.

**By the way, the title for this post comes from Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. I do not believe Walt was thinking about the microbes in his small intestine when he wrote that line.

Link to the article in California Monthly, The Teeming Metropolis of You

The Secular Buddhist

2011-10-31T19:15:00.000-07:00

Recently I found a ready-to-go media source to fill the "silence" when my mind has bad breath and needs to freshen up. It's an archive of podcasts on The Secular Buddhist. There’s a timely interview for Halloween featuring David Chapman.

***************

Addendum: Since posting this I've listened to several more podcasts and I find these podcasts quite worthwhile.

I am very glad to have discovered this archive of interviews on Atheism and Buddhism. I find the host, Ted Meissner, to be remarkably warm and open-hearted while also exhibiting his discerning intellect.

I find that his overall approach to Buddhism—and the path he's travelled from Zen to Theravadin practice combined with scholarly study and a healthy degree of skepticism—to be similar to and resonant with my own.

Check these podcasts out. The Secular Buddhist Podcasts.

Steve Jobs and Me

2011-10-28T17:33:00.000-07:00

Steve Jobs and I had the same Buddhist teacher, Kobun Chino Otogawa. Kobun was my first Buddhist teacher. I have come to increasingly appreciate Kobun. Kobun was my teacher in the mid-1970’s. In about that same time period, Steve studied with Kobun too. Kobun.

Steve gave the commencement address at Stanford University in 2005. This excerpt from Steve’s remarks reveals Kobun's teachings. Kobun taught me a similar thing:

Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure – these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important.

Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart…

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

If you wish to read more about Steve Jobs and his connections to Buddhist teachings, visit NeuroTribes where this excerpt appears in a post by Steve Silberman.

A Voice From the 1%

2011-10-27T18:36:00.000-07:00

Here is something worth pondering... some thoughts from one of the richest Americans about our tax system.

Here's an excerpt:

...I am not part of the yacht and private jet set, which represents an even smaller subset of incomes than mine. The threshold for inclusion in the top 1% of income earners in 2008, the most recent year for which published data is available from the IRS, was $380,354, enough for an extraordinary life but nowhere near enough for a harbor berth in St. Moritz. Nevertheless, I am - for now - comfortably ensconced in that demographic. Herman Cain's 9-9-9 plan would save me roughly $400,000 a year in taxes, and President Obama's tax proposals would cost me more than $100,000, yet I support the latter and consider the former laughable.

Thus you can imagine my amazement this summer when I watched the Republicans in Congress push the United States to the brink of default - and the world to the brink of ruin - over whether to repeal a portion of the Bush tax cuts and raise my taxes by 3.5%. I know a lot of people with high incomes and even the conservatives among them were confused by that sequence of events. Here is a secret about rich people: we wouldn't have noticed a 3.5% tax increase. That is not only because there isn't a material difference between having $1 million and $965,000, which is obvious, but also because most of us don't actually know how much money we are going to make in a given year. Most income at that level is the result of profits rather than salary, whether it comes in the form of bonuses, stock options, partnership distributions, dividends or capital gains. Profits are unpredictable and they tend to vary wildly. At my own firm, the general rule of thumb is that if we are within 5% of our budget for the year, everyone is happy and no one complains. A variation of 3.5% is merely a random blip.

I was not amazed but disgusted when John Boehner and his crew tried to justify the extremity of their position by rebranding the wealthy as "job creators." While true in a very basic sense, it obscures the fact that jobs are a cost that is voluntarily incurred only as a result of demand. Hiring has no correlation at all to profits or to income - none. Let me keep more of my money without increasing customer demand and I will do just that - keep it. Perhaps I will spend a little more of it, though probably not, but even if I do it won't help the economy very much. Here is another secret of the well-to-do: we don't really buy much more stuff than everyone else. It may be more expensive stuff, sure, but I don't buy cars, or appliances, or furniture, or anything else more frequently than the average consumer. The things I do spend more money on are services such as travel, entertainment, restaurants and landscaping, none of which generate well-paying middle class jobs. There, in a nutshell, is the sad explanation of what has happened to the American economy over the last 25 years of "trickle down" economics.

Better yet, read all of this thoughts.

A Voice From the 1%

Tomales Bay Paddle, October 23

2011-10-23T22:04:00.000-07:00

Heart’s Desire Beach offers plenty to a paddler. It is a lovely sandy beach in a cliff-protected cove on the western shore of Tomales Bay. Bishop Pines—rare this far north—look down from the cliffs above the beach and add a hint of mountain spice to salty estuarine air.

Getting ready to paddle

Because Heart’s Desire is set near the middle of the bay, a paddler may choose to venture as far as five miles either north towards the mouth or south towards Lagunitas Creek. About a score of Petaluma Paddlers met this morning and paddled south towards Inverness into a rare southerly headwind. Our muscles warmed, the headwind faltered, and the autumn sun shone with summery vigor. We decided to stop along the way at Teacher’s Beach to strip off the extra layers of clothing some of us put on at the start.

Heading south towards Inverness

As we continued south to Millerton Point the wind disappeared entirely leaving a glassy water of almost Tahoe clarity. Looking down we could see waving eelgrass, pulsing jellyfish, sandy areas scattered with shells, leopard sharks, and bat rays.

Sarah looking into the pellucid waters

Some of us paddled far enough south to visit the dilapidated remnants of the North Pacific Coast Railway that ran through here from 1874 to 1930’s. Ray, Dick, Joe, and Tom told about the engineering of the railroad grade along the eastern shore of Tomales Bay. They were bringing history to life. Had my stomach not growled so much, I might have been able to imagine the sound of the train’s steam whistle.

Dick, Joe, Tom, and Ray at the railroad grade

The morning was wearing on, and we decided to head back to Heart’s Desire for lunch. The winds we enountered as we came south seemed to still be blowing across the middle reaches of Tomales Bay. They made for some fun small waves right at the end of the trip.

The Petaluma Paddlers are deservedly noted for their not-to-be-missed potlucks. Today’s was like that. Many people—more than the score of paddlers we started out with— shared dishes special enough to evoke contented gasps of pleasure. Either the food was really good or I was really hungry, but oh, man. It can be hard to know whether it's the paddling in paradise or the ambrosia we eat that keeps us coming back.

Soon some ukuleles appeared and, well, maybe it was too much of a good thing—or maybe just too much wine. In any event there was singing, smiling, and eating good food and sharing good company—exactly what our hearts desire.

A Dreamy Place to Live

2011-10-23T19:06:00.000-07:00

An Amiot sculpture in Sebastopol

I just ran across this New York Times travel feature about a cool-sounding town in Northern California. A little town in California Wine Country where the vineyards meet the forested hills along the Pacific. A place that feels a little Berkeley, maybe because so many Berkeley grads live here.

I went to Berkeley. I dream of living there.

Check it out: SEBASTOPOL

Wait a minute! Wake up! I do live there, I mean here—and have for 32 years.

I've married to the former Mayor and current City Council member of Sebastopol.

A Saturday Paddle

2011-10-22T17:57:00.000-07:00

October 22, 2011

Lake Hennessey Report

Bald Eagle (click to embiggen)

Phil and Marilyn suggested a Saturday paddle on 800 acre Lake Hennessey which lies behind Conn Dam along Highway 128 east of the town of St. Helena. Conditions today proved ideal for paddling, bird watching, and outdoor dining.

Tim, Flo, and I wondered where Phil and Marilyn were at our 9:30 launch time and, after waiting briefly by the ramp, we took off to explore the eastern arm of the lake near the boat ramp. Soon we were back to the ramp and found that Phil and Marilyn had already launched their Lincoln tandem and were paddling out to join us on the main part of the lake.

We learned that they had gotten stuck in traffic as a result of stopping too long at the Oakville Grocery to buy a fresh baguette to accompany the gourmet cheese and sliced meat that they brought along to complement the fresh melon, dark chocolate, and homemade muffins that Marilyn got out of bed at 5:00 AM to bake for us just so we could have just the best “snack” imaginable. Their stop at the market meant that they got caught in a construction delay as a road crew laid new asphalt down on their already luscious highway—it’s not by magic that Napa’s roads are as smooth as their chardonnays.

We paddled across smooth waters around the whole lake seeing many birds: common ones including American Coots, Great Blue Herons, Snowy Egrets, Great Egrets, Mallards, Western Grebes, Double-Crested Cormorants; and more special ones including Green Herons, White Pelicans, and a Bald Eagle.

Our snack stop was more of a gourmet lunch, at least I've had lesser "gourmet" lunches. I couldn't get Phil to admit that he hired live music to accompany the birdsong, but you cannot believe everything Phil says. I can say for sure there was live music—good guitar music—right by us as we dined.

Live music at lunch

It was such a special paddle that I thought that we ought perhaps to update that tired definition of insanity, you know, the one that talks about “doing the same thing expecting different results.”

For PP’ers perhaps a good working definition might be: “not showing up when Phil and Marilyn suggest a paddle.”

Paddle to the Moon

2011-10-12T22:49:00.000-07:00

Waiting for the moon to rise.

Photos just don't do it justice....

Near sunset on the eve of my sixtieth birthday, Sarah, Joe, Dawn, and I paddled north along the western shore of Tomales Bay. From our boats we watched the full moon appear on the eastern horizon and sail silently into the night sky.

The thinnest whisper of wind sighed across almost calm waters and enhanced our feelings of serenity. The moon lit up the sky so brightly that, try as best we could, we were unable to see any bioluminescence in the water.

We paddled about two hours from Chicken Ranch Beach almost to Hearts' Desire Beach and back. Most pleasant!

Drake's Estero

2011-10-10T06:03:00.000-07:00

Sunday, October 9 some Petaluma Paddlers ventured out on Drakes Bay.

Conditions were calm as we set off from the oyster farm.

We headed towards Drake's Bay

Ray at the entrance to Berrie's Bay

Berrie's Bay

Yours truly on his "new" kayak

My second outing on this boat

Inside Berries Bay

Joe and Ray

Near the mouth of Drakes Estero, about 5 miles from our launch

Here comes the rest of the group

A memorial to the privateer, Drake.

Yakkin' on the beach

Heading towards Home Bay

Laura in her new boat.

Phil and Marilyn

Potluck lunch spread. Good food.

We celebrated Ellen's 50th birthday.

A tiramisu cake!

Life is good

On her birthday paddle, Ellen's mom, her dog, and husband Larry

Happy trails!

Bioluminescence

2011-10-04T05:50:00.000-07:00

This summer I've been paddling on Tomales Bay at night when the moon is not in the sky. It is very dark. Except for the water which explodes in blue green bioluminescent light with every paddle stroke. It's a mesmerizing experience that leaves me in speechless wonder.

I've found no way to adequately convey the miracle of paddling in dark waters that light up. My photography skills are not up to the task.

I just ran across this video on Boing Boing that shows surfing in bioluminescent waters south of where I live. If you watch it, you'll have some idea of what's been keeping me away from blogging this summer.

Red Tide Surfing San Diego 2011 Bioluminescence from Loghan Call on Vimeo.

More on biolume from Maggie Koerth-Baker's Boing Boing post:

Phytoplankton are tiny, plant-like organisms that live in the ocean and are, basically, at the very bottom of the food chain. But, sometimes, they get their revenge. When lots and lots and lots of phytoplankton get together, they can form what we call a "red tide," a discoloration of the water at a particular point where the plankton have become densely concentrated.

Some red tides are natural. Others happen when nutrient runoff from farm fertilizers creates a massive buffet for plankton. Some red tides can kill, as the plankton can produce toxins and their deaths reduce the oxygen content of the water. And sometimes, red tidesglow in the dark.

The phytoplankton in this red tide off a California beach are bioluminescent. Their cells produce a chemical reaction that creates a soft, blue-green glow. It's basically the same thing that makes lightning bugs light. In this video by Loghan Call and Man's Best Media, you can see plankton light up in the beach (and a few surfers).

Paying Attention

2011-09-22T06:23:00.000-07:00

In our group discussion of Thich Nhat Hahn's book, we talked about how paying non-judgmental attention to something—anything—always warms your heart to the object of your attention.

For example, if you begin to pay close attention to one baseball team, sooner or later you will become a fan of that team. (Years ago, my son did this with the Detroit Tigers when they were the worst team in baseball.)

But this heart-warming effect of clear-eyed attention works with even the most mundane object. A crumpled piece of paper will do.

One way to really pay attention to something is to draw a good picture of it.

Watch this video, and see how paying attention warms the heart, even to a crumpled up scrap of paper.

Now, imagine how you might benefit from paying attention to someone you love.

Say Something Nice

2011-08-22T21:05:00.001-07:00

Just got back from New York City, to visit my daughter.

Here's something that went on not far from where she lives.

Yellow Bird, for a Beluga

2011-08-03T11:07:00.000-07:00

Something to lift your spirits today. In kindergarten I sing "Yellow Bird" as well as Raffi's "Baby Beluga" because they, well, make people feel good including me.

Here they are Yellow Bird, the song, and a little white whale together. And join me in wishing whales well today.

Paddling Sausalito

2011-07-24T23:49:00.000-07:00

Off Sausalito

A motor yacht's bright topsides

Reflect paddler.

30 Songs in 30 Days

2011-07-23T17:34:00.000-07:00

Regular Mindful Heart readers already know that I am fond of home made music—especially singing accompanied by ukuleles. Most of the music that you'll hear at my house or in my classroom is exactly that.

This afternoon I discovered a young woman who goes by the name Miss Sophie Madeleine. She has undertaken the task of recording 30 songs in 30 days and posting them on YouTube. As of today, July 23, she's nearing the end of her project.

She's got good pipes. Her ukulele skills are up to the task, nothing extraordinary, but ordinariness adds to her charm. I get that feeling, "If she can do it, so can I."

Here are two of the YouTube videos she put up, "Dream a Little Dream of Me."

Here is the first, "One Fine Day." Through the magic of technology, she plays ukulele, a kid's xylophone, tambourine, kazoo, not to mention singing two harmonies behind the melody. A production like that would take some time, believe me. Very impressive, Sophie Madeleine.

I must say it's a whole lot of fun to make music with friends. And a whole lot easier, too.

This link will take you to her page where you can see more videos in this series:

http://sophiemadeleine.com/30days.html

Pedestrian Mindfulness

2011-07-19T17:25:00.000-07:00

Mindfulness is a state of mind of being aware of what is, just as it is and returning to that moment instead of being carried away by our thoughts.

Thoughts WILL come by, like traffic on a busy street. They seem to demand our attention, but we don't need to do anything more than to note them and let them go by.

If our intention is to stay mindful of the present moment, we need only be aware of the passing thoughts and proceed across the street without being taken away.

This guy crossing a boulevard in Vietnam gives a graphic lesson in this metaphor for mindfulness:

Joyful Movie

2011-07-14T11:02:00.000-07:00

Want to see a movie that'll make you feel good and probably stay with you the rest of your life?

This one may be it. It's got natural drama and some suspense, too.

Maybe it will fill you with some hope.

This movie, less than 9 minutes long, ought to do the trick. It did more for me than lots of feature length films.

Enjoy!

Eldergarten for Alzheimer's Patients

2011-07-13T22:13:00.000-07:00

Bill Tapia is 103 years young, and still plays the ukulele.

Late this morning I packed my ukulele and harmonicas into my car and drove into town to sing for the Catholic Charities’ Alzheimer's group.

I found a room filled with a group of about twenty people, a mixture of Alzheimer’s patients and volunteer caregivers, seated in chairs arranged in a "U."

One lonely-looking empty chair—my stage—stood by itself in the middle of the open part of the U.

It looked, at first, as if it would be a tough audience. The patients' eyes were, how shall I say this, vacant? Many of them sat staring into their laps; I couldn't even see their eyes. Some of the volunteers avoided eye contact with me. The person who invited me to come warned them not to expect too much—I'm a kindergarten teacher, not a musician/performer.

I've learned to fight fire with fire. Go straight at the fear. “No, problem,” I told myself. “I’m a kindergarten teacher." There aren't many audiences tougher than the one I usually sing for. I unpacked my gear, introduced myself, and launched off into about 45 minutes of singing, playing ukulele, and howlin’ out tunes on the harmonica. Kids songs, spirituals, Tin Pan Alley songs, and, of course, a Hank Williams tune or two.

It turned out that songs that work for short-attention-span kindergartners are perfect, perfect! for Alzheimer’s patients. Songs aimed at the heart with simple words, great melodies, and lots of repetition.

Before long the patients and their caregivers came to life, like droopy houseplants given the water they need to stop slouching. They joined in singing, clapping and stomping their feet.

We had a great time. Some patients danced! By the time we got to “If You’re Happy and You Know It” my failing voice was almost lost in the crowd. In the third verse the audience is supposed to shout “Hooray!” and throw a fist into the air. They did better than I ever thought they would. They were shouting, "HOORAY!!" as loudly as any roomful of five year olds.

Music works magic. You would not have guessed that anyone in this room was touched by senility. Too many smiles. Too much music. Too much magic.

I’m coming back in two weeks for an encore performance.

Vulnerability

2011-07-11T21:10:00.000-07:00

“The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.”

—Lao Tzu

Because the deepest truths are paradoxical, they cannot be fully stated in words. Well-chosen words can at best capture just about half of the truth, but, sadly, not much more than half. The unsaid truth provides the silent background for the said truth to appear.

I love “writing” poetry. The reason for the quotation marks around the word writing is that my experience of putting poetry on paper (actually on a computer screen) does NOT feel personal, as if some "Dan Gurney" is writing the poetry. My experience feels—by contrast—much more like channeling some higher voice, and that voice, almost always for me appears to emanate from above, from some heavenly realm.

My role as poet feels more like a scribe, a note-taker.

Of course I would not be fully truthful if I did not mention that I try to write poetry in the ordinary sense of the word, sans channeling, as if I could write poetry alone, without help from a Muse.

When I try to write poetry solo, the results are sadly pathetic, flaccid, and without verve.

Thank goodness for Muses!

The other day Ruth over at Synch-ro-ni-zing posted a poem—a Nouvelle 55 poem—about vulnerability titled, appropriately enough, “Vulnerability.” Her poem spoke to me—deeply. In a few minutes a response came through my fingertips and on to her comment page. My response arose from my study of Buddhism and impermanence.

I wanted to share her poem and my responding poem here on A Mindful Heart. I asked Ruth, and, graciously, she has encouraged me to share both poems here. The illustration of the clouds for my responding poem is from steven of the golden fish, a poet and teacher who consistently produces work that inspires me to jump outside ordinary consciousness. To both of these bloggers, I feel a strong sense of connection and gratitude. If you're a Mindful Heart reader and you've never jumped over to Ruth's or steven's blogs, well, I encourage you to indulge yourselves in some wonderful musings.

Vulnerability

The world is not delicate

on the whole. I feel it here

in my sternum, my ribs,

lying on my back under you,

stars distant, tree immense.

The world is not delicate

and the plum leaf is strong,

even when the beetle nibbles

her into lace, making room

for more stars to be

strung between her veins.

Here is my responding Nouvelle 55:

photo by steven leak

Invulnerability

Even the most solid things
we think we know
are almost pure space,
not there except in imagination.
Hard headed me—
I am fooled
by my skull bones,
not yet dust.
I will not see how my skull
resembles a fist,
or a penis, only
hard a few moments.
Black holes, even,
are delicate, changeable.

—Dan Gurney

and... a further collaboration. (Thank you, Sabio.)

Involuntary Ability

My eroded soft skull pretends solidity
as the promising sky shines through
the lacey scaffolding made by the busy crowd
pretending to be me.

A refreshing wind caresses my moth-eaten brain.
A tickle of vulnerability but finally all threat disappears.
And as I leave, the playground fills with raucous laughter.
A tree sprouts and leaf buds blossom.

—Sabio Lantz

Sabio's Interview

2011-07-08T09:42:00.000-07:00

Sabio Lantz from Triangulations wrote a somewhat lengthy and thoughtful comment to a recent post called Experiment. I decided to respond to his questions in a stand-alone post. Here find his comment and my responses to the questions he posed, formatted as if it were an interview. I hope you enjoy reading this faux "interview."

Sabio: I love your open posts. Thank you. But as always, I am going to comment in a way that is not patting-on-the-back, feel-good, kisses-and-hugs, comforting -- it is not my nature. So, If you don't mind, I will do some free-association while reading your post:

Dan: You’re welcome. I don’t mind—it’s my wife’s job, the kisses and hugs. I am glad you are among the small handful of people who read this blog. While my ego is sufficiently needy to enjoy comforting comments, I welcome also comments like yours that push me to think harder about my world view. It makes blogging more worthwhile.

Sabio: Naughty Dan, you are not supposed to talk about the *benefits* of meditation.

Dan: I had thought I was discussing the consequences of suspending meditation practice. Maybe I’m making too fine a point. Implicit in my post is an argument for meditation’s benefits. I avoid talking about meditation practice too much because when I discuss it, crappy meditation periods are the result. The less I say about meditation the better.

Sabio: But wait, I guess that depends on the sect you belong to.

Dan: I don’t belong to any sect.

Sabio: BTW, what type is yours again?

Dan: I am an unaffiliated practitioner. Once in a long while I go on retreat at Spirit Rock Meditation Center in Marin County nearby. It is, loosely, a Theravadin center, but pretty loosely I would say. Jack Kornfield is an important leader there. He trained in Thailand with Theravadin teachers. Spirit Rock is eclectic. It tries to weave strands of mostly Buddhist and some non-Buddhist religious traditions together with western psychology, science, and philosophy.

For eight years I participated in “Sutra Salon” a group that discussed the major texts of Buddhism: the Nikayas, the Flower Garland Sutra, the Diamond Sutra, the Lotus Sutra, etc. This reading/discussion provided a foundation in essential Buddhist texts.

I now lead a group—it amounts to a Buddhist book club—called “The Society of Friends of the Buddha” that meets at my house twice a month. We employ elements of Quaker’s “Friends Meeting.” I invite you to come. We have atheists and deep thinkers like you. You could live in California instead of New Jersey?

Sabio: But on a serious note, isn't one of the benefits of focused sitting time that you can more often practice different awareness states more readily during everyday life? [By the way, I know the religiously-correct way to say that, but I refuse].

Dan: Yes. If meditation didn’t generalize to daily life, I’d stop meditating. What is the religiously correct way to say that?

Sabio: If meditation is merely relaxation, I could see how you could start missing it the daily hits, but if it is practice for daily shifts, I would think those would remain.

Dan: I don’t think of meditation as merely relaxation. I work mostly at increasing my pathetic inability to concentrate. I am making slow progress, as I become more and more aware of just how far I have yet to go.

Sabio: Was your paddle board desire stronger than your I-pad desire and others you have written about. Serious? Your iPad and ukulele obsessions sounded pretty strong too -- I bet there are lots more.

Dan: Oh yes, lots more, and some not for public consumption! The paddle board desire never hit me at all; it was canoe lust—and the desire for the new canoe ran much stronger than feelings for iPads or ukuleles. I was losing sleep over the canoe. What got me wasn’t lust for a new canoe—the curvaceous plastic skins that form the canoe. Social connection was the hook. I was smitten with lust for the fun with friends that I imagined having a second canoe would make possible. Two canoes: one for me and one for a friend to paddle. Escape from loneliness.

I am particularly vulnerable to longing/desire for social engagement at the beginning of each summer vacation from school. In June, especially, as I adjust to summer's spaciousness, I miss teaching and it’s difficult for me. Non teachers sometimes have trouble understanding this. We teachers like to suffer, I guess!

The iPad-wanting was tame by comparison. I don’t sucker for Apple’s fantasy about how connected we’ll all become when we buy their latest gewgaw gadget. They promise so much more than they can deliver. I suspect that computer technology alienates us from—more than it connects us with—our communities and our natural world. Computer and communication technology is strongly addicting. I would guess that’s probably because we’re all so damn lonely in America.

The ukulele doesn’t cost me any sleep and it’s not an obsession. Just pure pleasure. But strong pleasure, yes, for sure. And it does connect us with each other.

Sabio: Maybe you have a compulsive side that is indeed calmed for that day by a hit of neurotransmitters with a half-life of 24 hours after meditating -- not that this is the most meditation offers, but what the hell? We drink coffee and exercise (paddle) for similar hits of happiness.

Dan: Yep. I confess. I have a compulsive side. Gee, maybe I have more than one compulsive side. Meditation does calm down my compulsiveness. I'd like to say that the half life might be something like 48 hours, but who knows? maybe it's 48 nanoseconds.

Sabio: Maybe there are many benefits from sitting: (a) daily hit of neurotransmitters, (b) practice of awareness, (c) facing inner boredom and other individual mental habits. I am curious if you saw this level of complexity in your time off -- with some traits more stable than others? That is my serious question in this rambling note.

Dan: As I indicated above, I am reluctant to discuss the benefits of meditation, lest my ramblings send the benefits running out the door. But to answer your questions: (a) Do I get a daily hit of neurotransmitters? Yes, I think so. I missed those hits after just two days off. A second cup of coffee in the morning helped compensate. (b) Does sitting help the practice of awareness? Yes, during my hiatus, my awareness went way down. I started feeling greedy and angry and was not aware of any connection to the hiatus in meditation. You’d think that connection would’ve been obvious, but it wasn’t. (c) Does sitting help face inner boredom? Yes. But so does singing, Sudoku puzzles, board games, and paddling. I was on vacation, so I don’t really know how the hiatus affected me because it was such an uncontrolled experiment.

There are two benefits to meditation that you didn’t mention: (d) increasing the ability to concentrate; and (e) providing the opportunity to intentionally cultivate wholesome mental states like simple happiness, compassion, joy, and equanimity. I hasten to point out that there is nothing magical or mystical about cultivating wholesome states the way Buddhists do it. It’s hard work, more like weeding a garden than strolling through Eden.

Sabio: But let me risk wandering into a more personal zone -- I hope you realize it is coming from someone who likes you and who feels not an ounce of self-righteousness. And forgive me if I don't cushion it too much -- I don't have much time to polish (and lord knows polishing is something I always need to do). But here goes:

You wrote,

My problem is that I have too many possessions! To release my belongings, to pare down, down and down some more—this is the way to approach fulfillment.

This is a repeating theme on your blog. This renunciation meme is common to most forms of Buddhism, but not all -- Tantric versions approach this issue differently. And to tell you the truth, the suppressive, belongings-adverse, struggling-discipline version of Buddhism may not be the best choice for all people. IMHO.

Dan: I trust your good will. While, for myself, I cannot claim to be without an ounce of self-righteousness, I’m with you on this. I have met renunciants who seem to go to such extremes in renunciation as to seem seriously unbalanced to me. I don’t think renunciation is the end-all-and-be-all answer for all people. We all know and enjoy our comforts and pleasures. Lord knows I do!

Still, it is my observation that we live in a relentlessly materialistic advertising world, a world of incessant messages that encourage us to believe that consumerism is the end-all-and-be-all answer to all our problems. These messages lead us to believe that we just need to work harder, longer, and smarter so we can make more dough so we can consume more stuff. The more we consume, the happier we’ll be. This message is repeated day in and day out in every way imaginable, both blatantly and subtly.

It’s part of my effort at Mindful Heart to point out that happiness isn’t found at the end of the shopping trip. You’d think we’d all know that by now, know it in our bones right down to the marrow. Perhaps more people are waking up to the limitations of consumerism. As for me, I’m still wiping the sleep out of my own eyes!

Sabio: You get a new toy, feel appropriately guilty for a while, meditate more, talk to nature more until you get enough relief. After building up enough comfort, you move on to the next acquisition and worry about not helping the poor while you live the good life in California once again.

Dan: I don’t know about helping the poor. We are poor in spirit in America. I’m a teacher, and have lived a life of service, so in some sense I think I’ve checked that box. Still, what you say here does sound familiar. I admit it. Life in California’s wine country is about as close to heaven as I could ever hope to live. Here I have found work I love, a wonderful, wonderful family, a large circle of friends, a community in which I’m a figure (and my wife even more of a figure, as the town Mayor/Councilmember), ukulele clubs to sing with, paddling clubs to canoe with, and on and on. I’m up to my eyeballs in grace. And I am grateful for it, grateful as I can be. I don't think I deserve it. And I cannot explain it, even to myself. But there it is. I have all the toys I want, more toys than I want. It is silly to worry about possessions, isn’t it? It is odd.Sabio: It seems a bit odd. Not having acquisitions or pleasure, of course. The part I love about you is your epicurean aspects, the indulgences. Can awareness be had with that and indulgent pleasures?

Dan: Can awareness be had with indulgent pleasures? I hope so! The more awareness we can muster, the greater the pleasure. The trick is not letting attachment, clinging get so strong as to interfere with our awareness of what is. We strongly tend to desire more, more, and still more. These desires interfere with our awareness of what is. For me pleasure is impermanent, unstable, and limited. But pleasure, still. Pure pleasure, untainted with wishing it were other than it is.

Sabio: Do all Buddhisms require guilt?

Dan: I don’t know. I sure don’t know about all Buddhisms. I’m not even sure I know much about my own Buddhism. But let me explore this a little bit.

Your question hints at something worth talking about: the many different forms of Buddhism. Buddhism is not one thing. (I know you already know this, Sabio.) When someone calls me a Buddhist he or she might imagine that I believe and practice things I don’t believe in and I don’t practice. For example, I don't think that I’m what Chapman might call a “wind chime” Buddhist. (Though I do have wind chimes outside my house.)

For me, Buddhism is closer to a school of philosophy than a religion. For me, the heart of Buddhism is learning to see the world just as it is. Through Buddhist eyes it’s easier to notice three essential qualities that seem to be almost universal, but are often hidden from view. In some sense, noticing these three essential qualities is what—for me, and not necessarily for anyone else—makes a Buddhist a Buddhist, regardless of what affiliation someone claims to have. And if you deny any these three qualities, then even if you say you’re a Buddhist, well, then, maybe you’re a wind chime Buddhist.

What are these three essential qualities?

They are:

Impermanence (Everything changes; nothing remains quite the same.)

Non-self (There’s no independently existing, permanent soul or self.)

Suffering/Nirvana (Everything exhibits a non-dual nature of unsatisfactoriness/bliss.)

Not seeing these three essential qualities, and wishing it were possible to have a permanent soul that will someday be eternally happy in heaven is childish and can lead to a lot of needless trouble and suffering.

Buddhism feels a little bit like growing up and having to accept reality just as it is. Growing up is compensated by the ability and freedom to indulge in adult pleasures. And it can be okay at times for adults to pretend there’s a God, a soul, and eternal bliss. I do it sometimes, too. (Yikes! I hope I'm not offending anyone here! Apologies if this my saying this makes you mad.)

I think Buddhism can undo guilt— mostly preemptively through observing the five basic precepts of non-harming, wise speech, not taking what’s not given, refraining from extra-marital sex, and refraining from intoxicants. Intoxicants, in my view, include toxic media and entertainment. Christians would call these "Christian" values, I suppose, Jewish people "Human" values. It's basic moral behavior, nothing fancy or particularly Buddhist. Or Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or Hindu.

I’m not sure I understand guilt and how it works beneath the level of conscious thought, so I cannot fully answer that part of your question. And, anyway, I’ve rambled on long enough. Thinking this hard is, well, hard!

Sabio: BTW, Chapman just did a great (and unfortunately controversial) post on the evolution of Zen -- called "Zen vs. The US Navy". And in his post before that he talks about how protestant ideas formed what Americans today call "Buddhism" -- with all its guilt and romanticism. He calls this "Consensus Buddhism". You might enjoy reading it and recognize stuff better than I can.

Dan: Thank you for continually bringing up Chapman. I spent almost two hours on his site today getting a feel for his work. I am impressed. I enjoyed the post on Zen and the Navy. I haven’t gotten to the “Consensus Buddhism” post yet, but I look forward to reading it.

As you may remember, I visited Japan to experience Buddhism there firsthand. I became aware of how much I had romanticized Zen and Buddhism. Up close and personal, it’s so much more human. It smells of more than incense. I’m sure you’ve heard of the “stink of Zen.”

I think I’ve pointed out to you before that Buddha’s Enlightenment Day is traditionally observed on December 8 each year. The attack on Pearl Harbor occurred in Hawaii on December 7 as far as Americans are concerned. In Japan, on the other side of the International Dateline, that event happened on December 8, 1941, Buddha’s Enlightenment Day! I guess they wanted Shakyamuni to smile on their enterprise. Religion. It’s enough to make you cry.

This Pearl Harbor day business is difficult for most Buddhists I know to assimilate. I don’t think you or Chapman would have any trouble getting it. And by pointing this out I don't mean to make any Buddhists mad. If people ask, I tell them I'm a Buddhist.

Again, Sabio, thanks for your thoughtful comments.

Link to the original post Experiment.

West County Ukulele Club

2011-07-06T16:47:00.000-07:00

Last Friday my ukulele club sang a set of songs at our town's monthly sing along night at the Sebastopol Community Center. The night's theme was Country Music.

This was the occasion of my first lead vocal, not counting singing in kindergarten class for five year olds.

My wife was there to videotape it so I might share it here. With apologies for my harmonica "work" in the instrumental break. I just started playing harmonica a little bit ago. No worries. With time, I'll improve.

Experiment

2011-06-27T22:21:00.000-07:00

While recently on vacation at Lake Tahoe I tried dispensing with my usual morning meditation practice.

I began meditating in the mid seventies. For twenty years I meditated on and off. Mostly on: I know its benefits. But since 1996, the year my mother died, I’ve devotedly practiced every day, with very rare exceptions usually due to illness.

Fifteen years is a long time to do anything continuously. I had become so accustomed to it that I began to wonder whether the beneficial effects might accrue without actually having to sit.

There, in the mountains with my family, I had little to do beyond enjoying the scenery with the people I love most deeply. Further, being away on vacation, far from my home alter and zafu I found myself in a suite of rooms that didn’t have a quiet place to easily accommodate my devotions.

After a few days of ducking into the bedroom in the mornings to meditate after my wife got up, I convinced myself that I had found the ideal situation to discover what life without a meditation practice might be like. I was willing to undergo an experiment.

For the first few days I was delighted to find out that I seemed to do just fine. I could discern no obvious changes to my mood, my outlook, my temperament, or my discernment. In fact, I told myself that I was doing everyone a favor by not disappearing every morning. Instead I could join the family for coffee and conversation in the dining room.

In the middle of the vacation we rented stand up paddle boards. As we returned the boards to the shop, I saw a canoe on special sale. I really, really wanted to buy it. In retrospect, I can see now that the force of this desire was stronger than any desire I had endured in fifteen years—a desire strong enough to intrude on my thoughts even when engaging in other activities. At the time, though, my mind was so wrapped up in the object of desire that I was not aware of my rapture.

This desiring grew each day. It became almost an obsession. Then, near the end of our vacation, when we returned to our home near the coast, I found myself having to cope with something new: anger.

I was getting peeved over small events that normally don’t even raise a ripple in the waters of my mind. I usually take in stride little things like being cut off on the freeway by an inattentive driver. Now it was enough to tick me off. I found myself taking offense and even colorfully expressing my displeasure loudly enough for my daughter to hear. This is quite unlike me.

In the last hours of our family vacation, I began to get peeved even at members of my family!

Finally, I suspected that my heightening greed and anger might be the result of this experiment with meditation-free living. I was amazed that my discernment had been so severely impaired.

My experiment was done. The day after my daughter flew home I resumed my practice. I got up early and sat. After a good long sit, I decided to listen to non-human wisdom, the kind you find on rivers.

I went out paddling alone to listen to the trees, to the birds and to the murmuring waters. Their sagacity seeped slowly in. Afflictive mental factors unwound backwards, like a skein of yarn stretching out into space. Anger cooled and mellowed back towards equanimity. Family, of all people, are to be loved.

Greedy mind loosened its tight bind on my mind. I knew I was satisfied with what I already have. My problem is that I have too many possessions! To release my belongings, to pare down, down and down some more—this is the way to approach fulfillment.

I could breathe again.

Refreshed by my breath, my mind could relax and broaden. I could feel the truest truth: inhalations and exhalations—the simplest, deepest, and most vital of all pleasures between being born and dying.

I came back to my breath, to my senses, to my contentment, and to the degree of equanimity to which I've grown accustomed.

Paddling to Freedom

2011-06-24T11:03:00.000-07:00

Later on I plan to write a bit about paddling and how it can serve as a metaphor for the Buddhist (or any spiritual) way of being.

For now, though, I offer you this inspiring 5-minute video. It's captivating, arresting.

If you get 50 seconds into it, I'll bet you'll watch the whole thing to the end.

BIRTHRIGHT from Sean Mullens on Vimeo.

Lightning Eclipse from the Planet of the Goats

2011-06-18T12:40:00.000-07:00

From NASA's website:

Click to zoom in. Don't miss the eclipsed moon up in the sky!

Copyright information:

Lightning Eclipse from the Planet of the Goats
Credit & Copyright: Chris Kotsiopoulos (GreekSky)Explanation: Thunderstorms almost spoiled this view of the spectacular June 15 total lunar eclipse. Instead, storm clouds parted for 10 minutes during the total eclipse phase and lightning bolts contributed to the dramatic sky. Captured with a 30 second exposure the scene also inspired what, in the 16 year history of Astronomy Picture of the Day, the editor considers may be the best title yet for a picture (title credit to Chris K.). Of course, the lightning reference clearly makes sense, and the shadow play of the dark lunar eclipse was widely viewed across planet Earth in Europe, Africa, Asia, and Australia. The picture itself, however, was shot from the Greek island of Ikaria at Pezi. That area is known as "the planet of the goats" because of the rough terrain and strange looking rocks.

Biking and Hiking at Lake Tahoe

2011-06-15T18:30:00.000-07:00

Spooner Lake

I was going to write a post about how much I've changed with regard to my views about heaven. The summary point would have been that after decades of disbelief (if heaven existed, why don't even the best space-based telescopes see it?) I now am thoroughly agnostic and interested to learn more. This is the effect of reading Brian Greene's book about the eleven kinds of multiverses that might be out there.

But I'm not going to write that post because in a way I AM in heaven right now, on vacation in the mountains with my family.

When your daughter is a resident doctor who works 80 hours a week, vacation time is extraordinarily precious. We're doing our best to make Elizabeth's vacation as relaxing and refreshing as we know how.

Today Elizabeth and I rented bicycles at Tahoe City along the western shore of Lake Tahoe and rode on bicycle paths north, west, and south of the city.

We rode west along the Truckee River to Squaw Valley, site of the 1960 Winter Olympics, an event I remember watching on television with keen interest as a boy.

Turning back up river, we returned to Tahoe City and headed south, as far as Sugar Pine Point. We found a market in Tahoma called PDQ famous for its huge sandwiches. We split one and could barely get back on our bikes we were so full.

Right after lunch by the lake

What Lake Tahoe looks like from our lunch spot

We rode something more than 30 miles (50 Km) in all. This was more riding than I thought we'd manage since Elizabeth quite literally had not ridden a bicycle since she discovered horses 17 years ago. She added credibility to the saying, "Once you know how to ride a bike you'll never forget how." Muscle memory endures.

We've been hiking, too. The picture at the top is of Spooner Lake which we circumambulated yesterday.

What's SUP

2011-06-11T13:12:00.000-07:00

Ted with Incline Village in the background

On vacation, whole family together in the mountains.

This morning Ted and I rented Stand Up Paddleboards. People use the acronym, SUP, as either a noun and verb. It's a good thing when your item for sale makes it into English like that.

SUP is a way to go out on the water. It's as relaxing and as mellow as it looks. Sort of like walking on water.

The water is really really cold still, but if you're careful—I was careful—you won't go in.

We had a really good time.

Boundless Greed

2011-06-09T07:18:00.000-07:00

"When it comes to dealing with greed, one thing which is quite characteristic is that although it arises from the desire to obtain something, it is not satisfied by obtaining it. Therefore it becomes limitless or boundless, and that leads to trouble."

—the Dalai Lama

In comments to my last post, Robert and Teresa Evangeline both pointed out the disappearing nature of any satisfaction that comes from buying stuff.

Things age. Newness fades. Cars get their first scratches, or a tiny parking lot dent, then sooner or later, they'll need maintenance or repair. The insurance I had to buy pays for none of these. Computers and other electronic contraptions (Teresa E.— I love that word, con-trap-tion!) become obsolete as newer, faster, smaller, better updates appear.

Greed for objects is boundless, as DL points out, because acquiring things won't bring satisfaction.

When I'm about to spring for something new and shiny, I try to recall the fact that my satisfaction won't last. It'll fade as the object ages. I picture the whatever gewgaw I am about to buy sitting in the trash can or thrown in the van with other items on their way to the recycling center.

Then l I can slip the Visa card back into my wallet and turn my attention to activities much more likely to bring contentment.

Summer Affluenza

2011-06-08T19:00:00.000-07:00

“If an individual has a sufficient spiritual base, he won’t let himself be overwhelmed by the lure of technology and the madness of possession. He or she will know how to find the right balance, without asking for too much, and know how to say, I have a camera, that’s enough, I don’t want another. The constant danger is to open the door to greed, one of our most relentless enemies. It is here that the real work of the mind is put into practice.” the Dalai Lama

Eleven months of the year I am content with the things I have. Mostly I think about paring down my possessions.

But each June, the fires of greed flare up. I’ve noticed this for almost as long as I’ve been teaching. For 30 Junes I’ve ventured into the marketplace to buy bikes, canoes, kayaks, computers, sailboats, camping gear, even cars! It’s always something. I would tell myself that I was only equipping myself for summer vacation.

I know better now: summer provisioning does not really explain my June bouts with affluenza.

Underneath my greed I see churning feelings of sadness and loneliness. A lot of it comes from having to suspend my teaching. Teaching rewards me deeply, and I miss it during the summer. Retail therapy also distracts me from facing long lonely hours that can be difficult to fill when living on a budget. (And it sure doesn’t help to have blown the budget as the summer gets underway!)

Apple computer company understands and exploits the links between loneliness and greed. They don’t market their products so much; they market a promise that their newest tech-toy will make their customers feel more connected, entertained, or creative.

I've fallen for this false promise so many times!!

These gadgets actually—let’s be honest—have exactly the opposite effect: these devises separate us from the people who join us in our actual here and now.

So, how did I do this summer? Well, the gap between knowing this and putting what I know into practice is still huge.

Sure, I didn’t buy the car I was researching on the Internet.

I did buy something I did not need—an iPad—as did other teachers on my staff.

Brainstorming a Sound Playground

2011-06-05T22:51:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I joined a group of visionary people to envision a new sort of sound laboratory that doesn’t yet exist: a workshop/playground/museum for sound and music. I love brainstorming!

We envisioned a place where kids of all ages—particularly children and youth—would meet to explore and create within the sonic realm. Our place would resonate with the Crucible in Oakland, California, but a sonic version of it. Haven't heard of the Crucible? They are a non-profit collaboration of Arts, Industry, and Community. There's a link at the bottom and it is worth checking out.

We met in one of the buildings that may eventually hold this meeting place—Sonoma Mountain Village in Rohnert Park, California. This is also where a publicly-funded Waldorf Charter High School called Credo High School may soon come to be. The sound lab would be affiliated with the high school.

We talked about the sorts of activities that might take place there:

• Candidates for elementary teaching credentials learning to play the ukulele so they can sing with their class

• Anyone interested learning to play the ukulele, guitar, and other instruments

• People building musical instruments

• People learning how to run a music studio

• Singers singing together

• Instrumental musicians playing ensemble

The place needs a name, of course. We don’t have a name yet.

Mulling it over for the last 30 hours I’ve thought of several ideas:

Sonoma Mountain Village Sound Playground

(My favorite. I like the rhyming, and the implication of fun.)

Sonoma Mountain Village Sound Workshop

(More businesslike)

Sonoma Mountain Village Soundatorium

(perhaps phonetically it’s too close to sanitarium)

Rummaging around in YouTube I found these two clips of the sorts of things you might find going on inside our Sound Playground. The first is of a water phone. There is a link to the maker of these at the bottom of this post.

This second one is of a new electronic music the likes of which I've never seen before:

I’d love to hear from Mindful Heart readers what they think of these ideas.

Link to Sonoma Mountain Village

Link to Credo High School

Link to The Crucible

Link to The Waterphone

Link to article about Darrell De Vore

Spinning Round and Round

2011-06-03T05:01:00.001-07:00

Although the world seems flat, most of us know it ain't flat. Our senses create an illusion of flatness that's not there.

In a very similar way, the sun appears to climb up over the horizon at dawn and sink under the western horizon at sunset. It just ain't so.

When we understand that the earth spins on its axis we can begin to see that the sun is comparatively motionless in the sky. We're simply sitting on a little ball that spins us round eastwardly at about 1,000 miles per hour. If we could hop on a plane flying east at 1,000 miles per hour, the sun would stay approximately motionless in the sky. Geosynchronous satellites do this trick up in space.

This is hard to describe, but easy to see in this video clip that appeared on the NASA apod site the other day.

Enjoy!

Credits:

Earth Rotating Under Very Large Telescopes
Credit: S. Guisard & Jose Francisco Salgado, ESO, Bulletpeople.com; Music: Arcadia (License: Kevin Macleod)Explanation: Why is the Earth moving in the above video? Most time lapse videos of the night sky show the stars and sky moving above a steady Earth. Here, however, the frames have been digitally rotated so that it is the stars that stay (approximately) steady, and the Earth that moves beneath them. The video dramatically shows the actual rotation of the Earth, called diurnal motion, in a clear and moving way, as if the camera were floating free in space. The telescopes featured in the video are the Very Large Telescopes (VLT) in Chile, a group of four of the largest optical telescopes deployed anywhere in the world. A discerning observer of the above time lapse movie may also note the use of laser guide stars, zodiacal light, the Large and Small Magellanic Clouds, and fast-moving, sunlight-reflecting, Earth-orbiting satellites. The original video, on which the above sequences are based, can be found here.

Memorial Day

2011-05-30T11:53:00.000-07:00

Memorial Day began in 1865, not long after the War Between the States. It started out as “Decoration Day” and was a day to decorate the graves of those to whom we are indebted.

Decoration Day was a day of general remembrance for deceased relatives without regard to whether they served in the military.

May we pause today to also remember civilian men and women who served with courage and honor the causes of liberty and justice for all.

Wiki article on Memorial Day

Clouds and Sky

2011-05-16T16:32:00.000-07:00

As you may know, teachers get terribly busy at the end of the school year. I don't have time to visit your blogs or to develop my thoughts into posts. I expect to be on hiatus till past mid June.

On occasion, though I find something to put up here that may lift your spirits or just inspire some awe. So, here: The last post featured a slo-mo video of tiny droplets colliding. This video, the one below, takes us in the opposite direction: vast spaces as can only be seen with a time-lapse camera. We get to see long periods time compressed into a few minutes.

The beauty on this end of the time spectrum is just as stunning. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

El Cielo de Canarias / Canary sky - Tenerife from Daniel López on Vimeo.

Time Lapse Clouds and Sky Over the Canary Islands
Credit & Copyright: Daniel López, IAC; Music: Matti Paalanen, Angel's Tear (Aeon 2)

Explanation:
If you could sit back and watch clouds and the sky move all night and day, what might you see? One answer from the island of Tenerife, captured over the course of the year, includes sequences that are not only breathtaking but instructive. Visible in the above time-lapse movie include clouds that seem to flow like water, a setting sun that shows numerous green flashes, the Milky Way Galaxy rising behind towering plants, a colorful double fogbow, lenticular clouds that appear stationary near their mountain peaks, and colorful moon coronas. The above video was shot solely from the Teide National Park on Tenerife in the Canary Islands ofSpain, off the north west coast of Africa.

Droplet Collisions

2011-05-10T19:18:00.000-07:00

I've been fully engaged in my non-virtual life as a kindergarten teacher, ukulele player and family man in the past few weeks/months, with little time for online life. Once in a while I find something I want to share here. This wondrous video, I think, is worth the two minutes it takes to see.

In this video you can see droplets splashing and colliding at 5000 frames per second. It's astonishingly lovely.

The world is so beautiful!

Lovely Interesting Discussion

2011-05-04T00:12:00.000-07:00

Richard Feynman was a legendary thinker and teacher. The best education is personal. It's one-on-one. No pressure. Just lovely interesting discussion.

Feynman reminds me very much of my own father. Watching these videos (the first in a series of five is below) about the Pleasure of Finding Things Out brings back the same feelings I had as I listened to my dad when he was feeling good and sharing his wide and amazing view of the world.

If you want to listen in on the kind of conversation that stimulates thinking—deep, deep thinking—find 10 minutes and watch:

Be well.

We Are With Them

2011-04-29T03:38:00.001-07:00

Here is the conclusion of this week's series on a master teacher in Japan, Mr. Kanomori.

Empathy

2011-04-28T13:24:00.000-07:00

When tragedy strikes a member of Mr. Kanamori's class he asks his students to help. Difficulties can connect us.

Do you have 7 minutes? Kleenex handy?

Then you're ready:

Wrong!

2011-04-27T18:21:00.000-07:00

Since teachers are humans we make mistakes. Sometimes we get it wrong.

In this clip you'll see Mr. Kanamori make a bad call.

And here's the thing: he's big enough to see it.

Like him, I've make the wrong call. Like him, I've had to find the courage to admit it.

For me, at least, this makes some pretty riveting viewing.

A Bully's Remorse

2011-04-26T14:16:00.000-07:00

Bullying is one of the hot issues in education these days. A master teacher will deal with meanness by going all the way to its source—the very root of the problem: the perpetrator's unresolved hurt.

Watch this video clip as Mr. Toshiro Kanamori takes his class from denial through to acknowledgment of bullying, then on to investigate the roots of the bullying in his class.

So often we find what Mr. Kanamori finds: we've been hurt and we have not grieved. We have not allowed the hurt to wash through us. We haven't received compassion from others for the injuries we've endured. So our injuries fester. And then they flare up to hurt others.

Here, in the eight minutes it takes for this video to unfold, watch as Mr. Kanamori extinguishes the flames of bullying in his class. He creates the conditions for psychological and emotional healing to take place. He's tough, but tender.

First, may I suggest that you go find some more kleenex.

Transforming Suffering into Happiness

2011-04-25T11:53:00.000-07:00

My life's work, whether as a kindergarten teacher or a spiritual practitioner, can be understood metaphorically as growing flowers and veggies from fertile compost. What I do—as well as I possibly can—is to transform suffering into peace, joy, and happiness.

If a videographer were to visit my classroom for a year, the result would be similar to this. The video I offer to you today (part one of of five parts) is a look at a teacher in Japan whose work is exactly parallel to my own work. His focus is mine: Be Happy!

This video documents fourth grade teacher Toshiro Kanamori engaged in deep teaching practice. In this part, he helps his students touch their suffering and transform it into happiness. His students discover they are not alone: they share much. He builds community. He builds happiness.

Enjoy!

Two notes:

1. Find 10 minutes to see it. It gets better and better as you go along; you won't want to be interrupted.

2. Have a box of kleenex handy. Your cheeks will get wet.

Well-Being

2011-04-23T13:45:00.000-07:00

I’m amazed that I ever got interested in Buddhism in high school and college.

I was scarred by a difficult childhood. Although I tried to appear confident, intelligent, and happy, a cursory glance would see right through my façade. Just below the surface and almost to the core, I was anxious, insecure, and depressed.

Luckily, I had the good fortune to grow up in Palo Alto where I would occasionally see statues of The Laughing Buddha (a Chinese folkloric figure, Budai, Hotei in Japanese).

I had read Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse in high school English class. Hesse’s Buddha didn’t hold much interest for me. I thought perhaps that Hesse’s novel was somehow tangential to actual Buddhism. I had heard names like Gautama and Shakyamuni, too. Were these all the same guy? Were they all different?

I wasn’t sure. Concentration wasn’t my strong suit.

I confused Hotei for Gautama Buddha. That is akin to confusing Santa for Jesus, but I was desperate to find a way out of my depression.

What gifts did this subtropical Santa, this Laughing Buddha offer me?

Opening the encyclopedia I saw that Buddhism’s basic teaching is the Four Noble Truths. The first two are:

The Truth of Suffering

The Truth of the Causes of Suffering

Seeing suffering mentioned twice so early on had the effect on me of seeing images of the Crucifixion. Get me out of here! I’m suffering enough already.

My interest in Buddhism almost died right there. My reaction was probably not unusual. I know people who see Buddhism as a religion for dark and depressed people.

A few years later, going beyond the encyclopedia, I read a pamphlet published in 1975 by the Fellowship of Reconciliation called the Miracle of Being Awake by a Vietnamese Zen monk named Thich Nhat Hahn who seemed able to enjoy life in ways that escaped me. He seemed to have some of the Laughing Buddha's wisdom in him. I began studying Buddhism in earnest there.

Thirty six years later, I’m reading another book by Thich Nhat Hahn, The Heart of the Buddha's Teachings. In Chapter Eight he suggests a reformulation of the Four Noble Truths, reworded here by yours truly.

Begin with the benefit of Buddhist practice: Well-Being

First Noble Truth:

Well-Being

Second Noble Truth:

The Eightfold Path to Well Being

Wise View

Wise Intention

Wise Speech

Wise Action

Wise Livelihood

Wise Effort

Wise Mindfulness

Wise Concentration

Third Noble Truth: Ill-Being

Fourth Noble Truth: The Eightfold Path to Ill-Being

Wrong View

Wrong Intention

Wrong Speech

Wrong Action

Wrong Livelihood

Wrong Effort

Wrong Mindfulness

Wrong Concentration

Set forth like this, we'd see that Buddhist practices are aimed at creating happiness and well-being for us and for everyone we know. Having walked this path as well as I can, I know these teachings to be efficacious.

Perhaps if the Shakyamuni were alive today he’d see that for many of us our suffering is so intense that we are not willing to look—even briefly—at our suffering. Perhaps he’d change the order of his Four Noble Truths along the lines Thay suggests.

Hotei, Budai

Gautama Buddha

Heart of the Buddha's Teaching

Power of Words

2011-04-12T19:16:00.001-07:00

We all want to see beauty....

Nuclear-Powered Clothes Dryer, An Etheree

2011-04-10T16:23:00.000-07:00

If Madison Avenue advertising agencies wrote Etherees* they might come up with something like this Etheree to promote a green alternative to automatic clothes dryers.

free

on-line

clothes drying

method with no

hidden fees or costs

your clothes will dance dry in

gentle breezes—fresh and pure

you use the same safe, clean power

that grandma used way back in her day

our space-based fusion reactor: The Sun.

With the nuclear power plant emergency in Japan, I feel increasing urgency to trim my energy use. Simultaneously, I feel increasing pleasure when I do my small part to shrink my carbon footprint.

Today I am taking particular pleasure in the spring breezes blowing through Sebastopol because they made it possible to give my automatic clothes dryer another day off. I used my clothesline instead.

Leaving the car parked for one more day, we walked downtown to do our shopping. We stopped at the Sebastopol Farm Market in the Town Plaza. Our neighbor Laura Shafer set up a spot to promote her business, Linedry.com. She promotes drying clothes in the sun.

Laura and me

As I talked with Laura, I realized that I can insinuate using clotheslines into my kindergarten curriculum. I plan to do that tomorrow. What reason is there for me or my assistant to hang up the cloth towels the kids use when they could hang them up and feel good about taking responsibility for the task? Duh! (Sometimes I wish I could teach 30 more years.)

I’d like to leave you with these facts. If you use a clothesline to dry your clothes:

You’ll save as much as $300 on your energy bills.

Your automatic dryer will last longer.

Your clothes will last longer, too. (Turn them inside out to reduce fading in the sun.)

You will enjoy the meditation of using a clothesline. (I promise you will!)

Your contribution to green house CO2 emissions will drop by as much as 700 pounds annually.

Please visit Laura’s website, Linedry.com

Inside-out your jeans

*********************************
*Consisting of ten lines, the Etheree starts with a one syllable line, then adds one syllable per line, ending with a final line of ten syllables yielding an overall syllable count of 55. In other words the syllabic structure is as follows: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. It’s an uncomplicated, unpretentious form of writing that has the quality of slowly opening, like a flower. Try composing one—you may like it!

Walter, My Friend

2011-04-04T22:28:00.000-07:00

My good friend, Walter, flew away a year ago. I miss him, his laugh, his warm hugs, his great heart. This evening a group of about a dozen of his closest friends gathered at his house to recite some prayers in Hebrew (Walter was raised in the Jewish tradition), tell each other our often hilarious stories about Walter, and, of course, to feast on some of his favorite foods. A happy-sad celebration of a man who had a wide open heart.

One of the things we shared was this poem that Walter himself wrote some time ago.

Here it is:

Nature’s Way

Where are you going?

The beauty and ecstasy you are seeking

I am here

Take refuge in the warm nurturing sun

The cool fragrance of the morning dew

The soft raindrops alighting gently on my face

Hills, like huge waves covered with superb shades of green

And colors so sublime

There are no replicas

Bold blotches of deep purple

Dispersed with frosty violet heather

Adorn the mountainside

Like a mammoth patched afghan

Looming in the distance

Thin misty clouds engulf the mountain tops

Conjure up images of a dreamlike fantasy

Beckoning

Come. come see what mystery I have in store.

Stop! Be still. Listen!

Listen to the whispering wind;

I am yours

All the beauty that abounds

See it, touch it, feel it within

The depths of your soul

We are one.

All the resplendence that you behold

Abides within you.

Where are you racing?

Search no more I beseech you

I am here

Surrender. Or would you blindly speed towards

Your destination without savoring

The power of my sheltering arms?

Perhaps you are not yet ready

Another time then!

When the great subterfuge of pomp and pageant

Fame and fortune spurn your fantasies

I will await you homecoming you prodigal son

And embrace your weary soul

And turn your hardened heart

Back to love.

by Walter Blum

I wrote about Walter on April 5, 2010, the day after he died. You can navigate there the old fashioned way, or just follow this link HERE.

Laryngitis

2011-04-03T14:43:00.000-07:00

“Don’t speak unless your words will improve the silence.”

For the past three days laryngitis has made it nearly impossible for me to speak. The few words that I do manage to croak out loud hurt my throat.

Despite my tender vocal chords, Sarah and I were faithful to our planned social engagements: yesterday’s group kayak outing on the Laguna de Sebastopol followed by a picnic at the Balletto winery, and today’s opening of the Sebastopol Farm Market at the town plaza. We agreed that Sarah would talk for me. She told my stories about the stress at work that spawned this malady. As she told them, I noticed how she tinted my stories just slightly, but enough so that they became her stories, not mine.

My laryngitis has reminded me of two things:

The great spiritual teachers are too dead to talk. Their greatness derives in no small part because they are not here to correct us when we inject into their teachings our own (mis)interpretations. Isn’t it like us to find our own retellings particularly satisfying, agreeable, and meaningful?
The first independent steps on my spiritual journey took me into a Quaker Meeting Hall where people worship together in silence. I have since gone on many silent spiritual retreats, mostly Buddhist, where I have come to appreciate, keenly, that the third step along the Noble Eightfold Path is Wise Speech. Wise Speech is mostly about refraining from speech.

The wordless flower sermon was one of the Buddha’s most memorable Dharma talks. Perhaps the Enlightened One simply had laryngitis that day.

The Laguna

G mail Motion

2011-04-01T20:32:00.000-07:00

After the hijacking of my computer, I switched to gmail, the same folks that bring us Blogger.

Check out this new innovation in email:

A Cosmic Ecology

2011-03-31T21:22:00.000-07:00

“Insects and plants can look alike. Science calls this ‘camouflage’ and ‘mimicry,’ constructing a paranoid fantasy of bug behavior. The camouflage theory says moths, beetles, mantises, and so on are so steadily menaced and so wily that they must disguise themselves as twigs, sticks, leaves, buds, pods, blossoms.

Perhaps they did learn or selectively breed to adapt; perhaps, however, they like to dress this way, or perhaps the plants have put on the insects’ clothing; or perhaps the bug and the plant share a common habitat and climate, and so both present themselves in a manner fitting to it. Suppose the bug doesn’t know that it’s not a plant, doesn’t follow our classifications into ‘animal’ and ‘vegetable,’ never read Linnaeus or took Biology 101. Suppose its dress, its mask, its body habits were so vegetative that mimicry is not only of the one kingdom by the other, or of each other, but of a third factor that requires them to accommodate with one another in a sympathy with all things, a cosmic ecology. Perhaps it is love that attracts these life forms to each other and inclines them to look alike.”

—James Hillman, Dream Animals, 1997; Chronicle Books, San Francisco

A More Mindful World

2011-03-30T19:21:00.000-07:00

My father was a rocket scientist who, quite literally, worked on—among other things—the earliest missions to the moon. My boyhood was richly steeped in a culture of astronomy and cosmology. Even today I find the cosmos fascinating.

I have just started reading a recently published book about cosmology, The Hidden Reality by Brian Greene who is one of today’s leading interpreters of this branch of science. It’s an exhilarating and mind-expanding ride.

Let me share with you a tiny morsel of this exciting adventure. Greene opens the second chapter of this book with these two paragraphs:

“If you were to head out into the cosmos, traveling ever farther, would you find that space goes on indefinitely, or that it abruptly ends? Or, perhaps, would you ultimately circle back to your starting point, like Sir Francis Drake when he circumnavigated the earth? Both possibilities—a cosmos that stretches infinitely far, and one that is huge but finite—are compatible with all our observations, and over the past few decades leading researches have vigorously studied each. But for all that detailed scrutiny, if the universe is infinite there’s a breathtaking conclusion that has received relatively scant attention.

In the far reaches of an infinite cosmos, there’s a galaxy that looks just like the Milky Way, with a solar system that’s the spitting image of ours, with a planet that’s a dead ringer for earth, with a house that’s indistinguishable from yours, inhabited by someone who looks just like you, who is right now reading this very book and imagining you, in a distant galaxy, just reaching the end of this sentence. And there’s not just one such copy. In an infinite universe, there are infinitely many. In some, you doppelgänger is now reading this sentence, along with you. In others, he or she has skipped ahead, or feels in need of a snack and has put to book down. In others still he or she has, well, a less than felicitous disposition and is someone you’d rather not meet in a dark alley.

—Brian Greene, The Hidden Reality

Think about implications of this: there are an infinite number of copies of you out there. Each copy veers off to into a different reality whenever he or she makes a choice that differs from your choices.

In a very real sense, every single decision you make aligns you to a new universe of possibilities. You will have the company of the other infinite other versions of “you” who choose as you do. (But you’ll never get to meet them. That’s okay. You already know what they’d be like. They’d be just like you.)

Assuming the universe is infinite, this conclusion is inescapable. Knowing that awakens in me a new desire to align my choices more carefully with my values.

I want to live in one of the more mindful worlds, one that is kinder and more lovely for the attention it receives from the likes of me.

Hijacking Happiness

2011-03-25T19:01:00.000-07:00

I know I’m not the only one to notice that when unhappy things come along, they arrive with unexpected joy.

The other day someone hijacked my email and tried to get my friends to wire away money. This fraud has resulted in some hassle for me. I had to open a new email account. I changed all my passwords. I spent many minutes on the phone, waiting to talk to a person employed by Yahoo! I’m sure you know—or can imagine—the drill.

Ultimately, what happened to me was only inconvenience. Still, I had to remind myself to stay calm and NOT believe my stories about the perpetrators.

The results of this fraud were not all bad. I ended up talking to friends who were genuinely concerned about my welfare. I hadn’t talked with some of them for months.

I was free, wait, let me say that again, with emphasis, FREE!!!! of email for about 36 hours. I had forgotten how nice life without email is.

My inconvenience was nothing compared to the Japanese who are dealing with earthquakes, tsunamis, and nuclear radiation. Nothing.

Not all the news from Japan is depressing. Read this post by Anne Thomas who is living in Japan where the earth shook. It may lift your spirits. It lifted mine. A Letter from Sendai.

And thanks to my friend and neighbor at Temporary Reality where I learned of Ms. Thomas.

Times Are Gettin' Hard

2011-03-24T20:40:00.000-07:00

Not long ago, I posted a video of Taimane Gardner showing an exotic and mysterious side of the ukulele.

Here is another side of the ukulele showing a more subdued mood. It features my pal, Todd, who posted this on YouTube a month or so ago. He sings an old folk song called "Times Are Gettin' Hard." Its mood and message fit these times we find ourselves in right now....

I'm Okay!

2011-03-23T09:57:00.000-07:00

I'm okay!

If you get an email from my account describing some overseas distress, please ignore it.

Someone hacked into my email account and is posting false information about me.

In reality, I'm fine and at work.

Take care,

Dan

Nouvelle 55: Downsized

2011-03-21T17:26:00.000-07:00

With a tip of the hat to Ruth at Synch-ro-ni-zing, here's a Nouvelle 55.

The painting is a very recent one by my brother, artist James Gurney.

Mike lost his firefighting job when his department downsized.

The bank foreclosed two years later. He loaded his TV and his tools into his pickup and covered the load with a black tarp.

He muttered to Jane, “At least the truck’s paid off—sure wish the tank was full,” and they drove south to Tennessee.

Link to my brother's blog, Gurney Journey is in the column to the right under "Blogs I Read."

I'll Bet You Like This

2011-03-18T16:39:00.000-07:00

Readers of Mindful Heart are well aware of my increasing fondness for the ukulele. I know the ukulele to be a simple and humble instrument perfect to put into the hands of young children who want to make their first music. That's what I'm doing every day at work.

It's also a great instrument for groups of amateurs to play together. I spend most Thursday evenings playing with friends. That's what I did last night. We get high just singing.

But the ukulele can be even more than that.

She has a wild, exotic side as well.

Grab a pair of headphones. Set aside six minutes.

You won't want to be interrupted:

Saturn Fly By

2011-03-17T23:25:00.000-07:00

I find this VIDEO made from actual photos of the Cassini spacecraft comforting and uplifting.

The universe is big and beautiful. Our human problems, (even nuclear power plant meltdowns, however complicated) can be seen from a larger perspective.

Link:

http://apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap110315.html

Love is Something

2011-03-15T16:23:00.000-07:00

Here's the reading taken from A Year With Rumi by Coleman Barks for March 15.

Before death takes away what you are given, give away what there is to give.

No dead person grieves for his death. He mourns only what he didn’t do. Why did I wait? Why did I not...? Why did I neglect to?

I cannot think of better advice to send. I hope you like it. May you stay in your infinity.

Peace.

—Rumi

Rumi’s message is one I try to remember and pass along.

I am grateful to teach kindergarten where I am expected to promote generosity and sharing. I teach these by my example and in many other ways including singing songs, none better than this little gem by Malvina Reynolds, “Love is Something.”

She sings her song with the panache of someone who knows homespun music beats manufactured music every time:

I had the pleasure of seeing and hearing and singing along with Malvina Reynolds when I was a student at UC Berkeley many years ago. The song has worn well.

Hurt, Shaken, Numb

2011-03-13T13:35:00.000-07:00

I’ve been knocked off center since viewing Internet video of Japan’s earthquake and tsunami.

I have felt a special affinity for Japan ever since my teenage years in the sixties.

My first Zen teacher, Kobun Chino Otagawa, was Japanese. I drink organic Japanese sencha green tea almost every day. I live in a small Northern California town that has long included a small, but vital Japanese community. Sebastopol has a fine Japanese Buddhist Temple.

Japan is the only Asian country I have visited. Sebastopol has a sister city, Yamauchi-Machi, on Kyushu, the southwestern island. We’ve hosted exchange students from Japan and we sent both of our children there. While I was in Japan I made many Japanese friends. I made sure to visit the atom bomb museum in Nagasaki. Visiting this site was a pilgrimage for me, an American peace activist and history major with at least some conscience about what my parent's generation did.

When I drive my Japanese-made car out to the coast and look west across the Pacific Ocean, my imagination stretches across the water to Japan.

News of this catastrophe has been difficult for me to absorb. I haven’t slept as well as I usually do. Images of the destruction appear in my mind between dreams (though the dreams themselves, oddly, are quite happy). Thinking about the implications of the earthquake in terms of energy, ecology, economy, doesn’t put me quickly back to sleep.

I’m walking (well not right now, plus here comes the rain!), singing and strumming my ukulele, doing yoga, and sitting through turbulent meditation periods. I catch myself numbing out—thinking about getting a video to watch, and I know I'm hurting.

I am trying to settle down, to make room for some happiness to beam through, but it will take time.

Even Mother Earth wobbled with this one.

Faith

2011-03-09T20:08:00.000-08:00

With a nod to Bonnie and Ruth for bringing it up:

when i was seventeen
i was bewildered
befuddled

i had lost faith in christianity
forlorn, empty—
like a forgotten garbage can

i knew that i was
—without faith in jesus—
not worthless or empty

i found a teacher and sat
for decades—
zazen

sitting practice:
me chasing after
ease, equanimity, enlightenment

these three had been here
all along
waiting for me to notice them

breath followed breath
sitting revealed faith
just sitting revealed what is

searching in shadows
feeling sun warm
shoulders, back, heart

a haiku:

like whales in the sea
we breathe, writhe, make love, pray and

sing in sure, blind faith

May I read it to you?

Faith by Dan Gurney

Love Your Enemies

2011-03-01T18:27:00.000-08:00

As a kindergarten teacher it took me a few years to figure out (the hard way) that the quickest path to having a great year is to help the kids with the most difficulties. The happier the least happy kid is, the happier we’ll all be—including me. Especially me, I'll admit it.

Sunday School lessons I was given about Jesus teaching "Love your enemies" had something to do with it. I am so grateful for that teacher.

“If all your enemies are well, happy and peaceful, they would not be your enemies. If they are free from problems, pain, suffering, affliction, neurosis, psychosis, paranoia, fear, tension, anxiety, etc., they would not be your enemies. Your practical solution toward your enemies is to help them to overcome their problems, so you can live in peace and happiness. In fact, if you can, you should fill the minds of all your enemies with loving kindness and make all of them realize the true meaning of peace so you can live in peace and happiness. The more they are in neurosis, psychosis, fear, tension anxiety, etc, the more trouble, pain and suffering they can bring to the world. If you could convert a vicious and wicked person into a holy and saintly individual, you would perform a miracle. Let us cultivate adequate wisdom and loving kindness within ourselves to convert evil minds into saintly minds.”

—Henepola Gunaratana Mindfulness in Plain English

What if this idea were applied to the enormous kindergarten of world politics?

What if nation states decided to invest as much money in health care, environmental restoration, and the arts as they now spend on the Armies, Navies, and Air Forces?

What if my country, the US, shrank its military spending so as not to exceed the budget it now has for the Peace Corps?

Would we find ourselves living in a far safer and happier world for everyone, even the bugs?

A Tip of the Hat

2011-02-27T08:43:00.000-08:00

The smallest act of kindness make change the world forever.

After Archbishop Desmond Tutu won a Nobel Peace Prize for his nonviolent struggle against apartheid in South Africa, he was asked to recall some of the formative experiences in his life.

He replied, "One incident comes to mind immediately. When I was a young child, I saw a white man tip his hat to a black woman. Please understand that such a gesture is completely unheard of in my country. The white man was an Episcopal bishop and the black woman was my mother."

I'm going to see how many small acts of kindness I can give today.

This story about Desmond Tutu is excerpted from a column written by Rev. Gene Nelson for my local paper. Last night my wife and I enjoyed dinner and warm conversation with Gene, who is the Minister of Sebastopol's Community Church.

It's a Small World After All

2011-02-25T19:48:00.000-08:00

Many of you know that I'm a kindergarten teacher by day. Sometimes I sing that saccharine song that Walt Disney made famous: "It's a Small World, After All."

This is another way of understanding that idea:

Small World, an Etheree

our universe holds a hundred billion
galaxies and each galaxy holds
a hundred billion stars most of
them many times larger than
our green earth—we cannot
quite understand just
how small our world
really is
after
all.

Would you like me to read it to you?
Just press the orange play button:

Small World, An Etheree by Dan Gurney

*********************************
*Consisting of ten lines, the Etheree poem starts with a one syllable line, then adds one syllable per line, ending with a final line of ten syllables yielding an overall syllable count of 55. In other words the syllabic structure is as follows: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. It's also okay, and still and Etheree to reverse the sequence from 10 down to 1 and even to combine such progressions into compound forms of Etherees. It’s an uncomplicated, unpretentious form of poetry that has the quality of slowly opening, like a flower. Try composing one; it won't take you too long. Who knows? You may like it!

Sun Etheree

2011-02-22T08:59:00.000-08:00

We believe what we see to be the whole truth.

The world is whole. It is complete. If we look deeply, the world will reveal to us more and more of its endless wonder, beauty and wholeness.

I took this photo yesterday at sundown on the coast of California.

Day’s sun slides down beyond the horizon.
Night’s cold darkness draws ever nearer.
Brine breath of wind off the sea chills
my bare ears, cheeks, neck & nose.
Sweet voice calls out. My heart
leaps around the world.
Turning east, Look!
See the warm
rising
sun?

Let me read it to you:

Sun Etheree by Dan Gurney by Dan Gurney

Like a Jigsaw

2011-02-21T15:49:00.000-08:00

This one's for Sabio who wonders if there's any special magic to the Etheree form. I'd say, no, there isn't any special magic; it's more like working a jigsaw puzzle:

No, there’s no special magic in breaking

lines just so to make an Etheree

“poem” (if you insist on using

quotation marks on that word),

but counting syllables

does force me to take

more care writing

“poems” than

writing

“prose.”

*********************************
*Consisting of ten lines, the Etheree poem starts with a one syllable line, then adds one syllable per line, ending with a final line of ten syllables yielding an overall syllable count of 55. In other words the syllabic structure is as follows: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. It's also okay, and still and Etheree to reverse the sequence from 10 down to 1 and even to combine such progressions into compound forms of Etherees. It’s an uncomplicated, unpretentious form of poetry that has the quality of slowly opening, like a flower. Try composing one; it won't take you too long. Who knows? You may like it!

Shelter in the Dunes

2011-02-20T09:34:00.000-08:00

A walk in the dunes close to home....

we follow a "trail" that leads from the

seacoast town of Bodega out to

Salmon Creek Beach

and find the sort of facility for the public

that California is no longer willing to build

and find this little shelter

built by hand of driftwood

(at no cost to the taxpayer)

by beach visitors who came before us

we crawl inside

and find it's cramped

and not too comfortable...

yet the view out the front door is splendid.

Space Etheree

2011-02-14T19:45:00.000-08:00

The Rosette Nebula
Credit & Copyright: Brian Lula

When
staring
at deep space
images of
stars, nebula so
distant in space and time,
i marvel at how we can

imagine that we are somehow
not intimately related to
ALL earthlings both human and non-human.

—Dan Gurney

*********************************
*Consisting of ten lines, the Etheree poem starts with a one syllable line, then adds one syllable per line, ending with a final line of ten syllables yielding an overall syllable count of 55. In other words the syllabic structure is as follows: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. It’s an uncomplicated, unpretentious form of poetry that has the quality of slowly opening, like a flower. Try composing one—you may like it!

The Scripture of the Landscape

2011-02-13T09:50:00.000-08:00

The Pacific Ocean from Red Hill 2/6/11

Sarah and I have enjoyed several hikes recently. We're planning to go out into nature again today—this time out to the dunes by the Pacific.

Deng Ming-Dao wrote a wonderful book of contemplations called 365 Tao which I include in my daily morning activities. Here's the passage for Feb. 11—

Trail beside stream,

Fragrant pine.

Rocky red earth,

Steep mountain.

Walking may be a good metaphor for spiritual life, but there are times when simple hiking is literally the best activity. When one walks in the woods or climbs mountains, there is a wonderful unity of body, mind, and spirit. Hiking strengthens the legs, increases stamina, invigorates the blood, and soothes the mind. Away from the madness of society, one is freed to observe nature’s lessons.

Erosion. Gnarled roots. The carcass of a dead deer. A flight of swallows. The high spirals of hawks. Bladed reflections of rushing water. Just budding bare branches. Gray rock, cracked, shattered, and worn. A fallen tree. A lone cloud. The laughter of plum branches. Even a little circle of rocks beside the trail—who put them there, or did any hand arrange them, and no matter which, what are the secrets of that circle?

There are a thousand meanings in every view, if only we open ourselves to see the scripture of the landscape.

Wireless World

2011-02-12T08:29:00.000-08:00

winter moon needs no
wireless communication

to talk to poets

-dan gurney

Myriad Miracles

2011-02-08T17:18:00.000-08:00

our playful minds will run—scattering

in a thousand directions.

when we learn to guide our minds

skillfully

with determination and the help of friends on the path

we can decide

to look for and see

to listen for and hear

to know and feel

myriad MIRACLES

at hand right here

right now

with this breath.

What Iris Said

2011-02-07T19:47:00.000-08:00

let your feet
take you everyplace you go today

bring along
your ancient animal nose

and exercise your imagination
until it can conjure

fruit

from sun and wind and soil
like a flower.

Lift your eyes
up to the azure skies

Let our winter sun
warm your skin

Strum the ukulele you hold
over your heart—

and

from your heart

let your song
come forth

sing to the birds,

the trees,

the breeze

let this sweet spring air
breathe in you
and breathe out you even sweeter
as a melody

celebrate this day
this moment with me as i
nod and dance,

in this wind
on this Earth

join me

and be beautiful beyond reason

The Moon and Venus in Switzerland

2011-02-03T19:10:00.000-08:00

Sometimes a morning sky can be serene and surreal. This past Sunday a sublime sky appeared above a snowy slope in eastern Switzerland. Quiet clouds blanket the scene, lit from beneath by lights from the village of Trubbach. Mittlerspitz, the snow covered mountain, posing dramatically on the upper left, hovers over the small town of Balzers, Liechtenstein. The Alps can be seen across the far right, just below the rising sun. Visible on the upper right are the crescent Moon and the bright planet Venus. Venus will remain in the morning sky all month. Text (adapted) and photo are from Astronomy Picture of the Day LINK.

Dread and Bliss

2011-01-21T23:10:00.000-08:00

"The person who has not, in a moment of firm resolve, accepted—yes even rejoiced in—what has struck him with terror—he has never taken possession of the full, ineffable power of our existence. He withdraws to the edge; when things play out, he will be neither alive nor dead.

To discover the unity of dread and bliss, these two faces of the same divinity (indeed, they reveal themselves as a single face that presents itself differently according to the way in which we see it): that is the essential meaning and theme of both my books (The Sonnets to Orpheus and The Duino Elegies).

—Rainer Maria Rilke

Wasp Dreams

Awake, thirsty, hungry, I fly
from parchment nest through woods
to the porch where I feasted last night
on shreds of barbecued chicken thigh.

Seeking, now, a morning meal
I blunder heedlessly, hapless
into sticky woven threads
strung between porch and post

both wings held fast—web sways
who’s this? wrapping me, spinning me
swaddling me tight in silky sheets
bound, secure, attentively embraced

her mouthpart—painless—a spider’s kiss
i liquify, am drunk, a dreadful bliss.

******************
You can listen to this sonnet here:

Wasp Dreams by Dan Gurney

Miracles Everywhere: A Moment in Kindergarten

2011-01-18T23:03:00.000-08:00

"When we live in awareness, it is easy to see miracles everywhere." —Thich Nhat Hahn

As snack time got underway, I found a chair at M’s table and sat down with her and three of her friends—four five year olds whose combined 20 years on earth total about one-third of my almost 60 years around here.

M. had brought the apples—crisp organic Galas we had just cored and sliced into wedges.

I lifted one of the apple wedges to my mouth and bit off a small piece. Closing my eyes I slowly crushed it between my molars and let sweet juice mix with my saliva. Slowly, I chewed this little morsel again and again, slowly, until the last of its form liquified into a formless, pulpy juice. I swallowed, emptying my mouth of all but a lingering sweetness. I let my eyes open and said, “Apple trees are so magical.”

“Magical? Apple trees?”

“Oh, yes!” I went on. “Deep, deep magic—a miracle, really.”

“It’s just a regular apple,” M said somewhat skeptically. I wondered if I had made too much of a spectacle eating this one bite of apple.

“Yes, it’s a regular apple! Regular apples are miracles! Clouds become millions of raindrops and fall to the earth and soak into the ground. Apple trees have roots that sip the water out of the soil. Somehow trees also know how to pull out of the soil just exactly the right minerals they need to make wood, bark, leaves, and apples, using sunlight for power and ancient magic they got from their ancestors for the how-to-do-it. They made the sweet juice and crispy apple flesh that just filled my mouth. It’s a miracle that apple trees know how to do this.”

I took a second bite of the wedge and closed my eyes again. I decided to simply enjoy the flavorful moment and not to go on about seeds and oxygen.

Seducing the formless into form

2011-01-17T20:43:00.000-08:00

My daily practice these days takes about an hour and typically includes:

waking at 5 AM
dream journaling (assuming there’s a dream worthy of it),
a quick yoga routine,
playing a Native American flute,
reading poetry—Hafiz, Rumi, Rilke, for now
20 minutes or a little bit more of Samantha (concentration) meditation.

I finish up by cultivating the intention to awaken kindness, compassion, and wisdom throughout the day ahead.

From there it’s off to the living room for tea with my wife.

Today this poem by Hafiz spoke out:

only

that illumined

one

who keeps

seducing the formless into form

had the charm to win my

heart

only a perfect one

who is always

laughing at the word

two

can make you know

of

Love

Arachnid Dreams

2011-01-08T11:34:00.000-08:00

How I wish that in the space of one
night’s darkness I could weave a spiral galaxy of silk
designed by my ancestors
and mysteriously bestowed to me from some deep

time before time. I would doze in the morning sun,
amid my particular array of glistening dewdrops
and—rocked by soft morning breezes,
and at the edge of sleep—

snooze until some flighty insect blunders into my gossamer-spun
dream. Waking, I would swaddle my breakfast in silky attention
wrapping and comforting this trembling body before sipping
guts gently inside me and swallowing them deep

the better to digest heedlessness into filaments
that I can string in the sun to be jeweled with dew.

—Dan Gurney

Arachnid Dreams by Dan Gurney

Polar Bear

2011-01-06T22:03:00.000-08:00

My friend, Sandy Eastoak, had a poetry reading at one of my town's tea shops this evening. She read praise poems.

I particularly like this one, an arctic love story. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

polar bears

do you remember
ice fishing

it was maybe six
eight hundred years
ago

a happy life, that one
& simple

we met as children

watching each other
cautiously at
first then running
wild over the meadow
just emerging from piled
snow

small wildflowers
laughing as loud as
we singing
beside the new
rivulets
stomachs grumbling
for our forgotten
dinner

our families traveled
with different herds
so sometimes weeks would
pass then sometimes
you’d come with
mine or i’d go

they all winked
happy at our glad
games & looking toward
fertile

& it came

first ecstasy
then understanding
deeper & easier
season by season

& the small son
who rose the sun in
your eyes & made you
silly

then the daughter
& you discovered how
your hands could
twist beauty everywhere
in bone fiber dye

she made you known
for craft that became
our people’s as you
taught

one winter day when our children
had grown beyond
we caught five fish against hunger
when the white bear came
we saved ourselves
by losing our
food

but your were angry
even your cool wisdom
left you crazy
over this one thieving
bear

we talked with death
in our lodge
& you went across
the frost hard ground
to meet him
just your knife
you’d carved magic
in the handle
i’d sung the
blade

you tracked the bear
& met him on
the ice
where you baited the
scene with new
fish

& when he came with
fangs roaring
you stood & spat
your secret words

i followed &
watched
the two of you
grappling

i lost the easy man
of innocence
& gained the bear man
of power

you cleaned the skin
& made the robe that
marked you
you gave the meat
to everyone & all
the dogs
songs & sparks
lit the long
night

i was a singer
now everyone wanted to hear
i glowed with
your honor
carried your light like the
sun in my two
hands

love lit winter
bright as midsummer
the taste of berries
was always on our
lips

our grandchildren
were favored & kept
faith with the people’s
fondness
each giving full

their broad smiles
made you laugh &
grow ever more
generous

after years you
weakened
one day you said
i will not pass
another winter
readied me, promising
to stay close
until i

one morning you
lay in my arms
counting every sky
wide & beautiful because
i was there
& i counted every
earth fragrant & solid
because of
you

you stayed close
the grandchildren
were happy to see me
talking with you
i missed your
body

seasons later
i said i’m going to your grandfather
walked over the ice
to find your bear’s
descendant

when she brought her
sharp teeth to my throat
i was already flying
glad & grateful
your welcome big
as the whole sky

do you remember
ice fishing

Karma Etheree*

2011-01-03T21:08:00.000-08:00

Some Taoists believe that each of us has 36,000 gods and goddesses living inside us. We please these deities in us when we think good thoughts, eat good food, and take proper care of our physical, emotional, social, and spiritual health. But if we abuse ourselves, they’ll get up in disgust and leave.

Thich Nhat Hahn says that we honor our forebears and our offspring by cultivating mindfulness, compassion, and wisdom.

While thinking about these things, I composed this Etheree.

look.
every
breath i draw
each word i say
every bite i eat
touches for good or ill
my children, grandchildren and
unseen future generations.
each action pleases or displeases
all my forebears, human and otherwise.

—Dan Gurney

*********************************
*Consisting of ten lines, the Etheree poem starts with a one syllable line, then adds one syllable per line, ending with a final line of ten syllables yielding an overall syllable count of 55. In other words the syllabic structure is as follows: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. It’s an uncomplicated, unpretentious form of poetry that has the quality of slowly opening, like a flower. Try composing one—you may like it!

Hope for the Future

2011-01-02T23:59:00.000-08:00

Inspiring kid. There's hope in the future. This is proof.

Pro- Procrastination

2010-12-30T10:25:00.000-08:00

"Procrastination isn't the problem. It's the solution. So procrastinate now. Don't put it off."

—Ellen DeGeneres

I love epigrams like this.

Another is ee cummings, "Think twice before you think."

Such epigrams amuse me because so much of our human activity seems concerned with undoing some earlier doing.

We get so busy fixing our mistakes and that we make unforeseen new mistakes to fix later. It occurs to me that the most helpful thing to do in many situations is to sit back, take stock, and take a baby step in what you think is the direction to go. Of course, my mind is running pleasantly down this channel because my wife wants to clean out the garage—a task we've avoided for a couple of years—by Monday.

Probably best to get out of my pajamas and get my work clothes on.

Forever

2010-12-28T17:19:00.000-08:00

This is something young children know——until they're given an education.

Later on, lucky ones may learn again——from spiritual teachers, poets, or whatever——the nowness they knew before they got to kindergarten.

What a clock looks like to a young child.

"Forever is composed of nows."

—Emily Dickenson

Holiday Blessings, 2010

2010-12-25T12:29:00.000-08:00

My holiday blessing to all readers of Mindful Heart and everyone else, inclusive of all life—

May kindness and caring wash through me, through my loved ones, and through the whole web of life;
May wisdom and compassion wash through me, through my loved ones, and through the whole web of life;
May gratitude and serenity wash through me, through my loved ones, and through the whole web of life—

Breath after breath,
Minute after minute,
Hour after hour,
Day after day,
Week after week,
Month after month,
Year after year,
Life after life

Cry Easily

2010-12-24T11:55:00.000-08:00

A poem-gift from Rumi. At Christmas, keeping our grief glistening can help us connect with our loved ones—those closest to us.

The tender heart at the center of our sentience wants us to attend to its hurting. Desire for caring/healing/wholeness connects us to each other and to all life.

The web of life is love.

Attending to our tender hearts with love can transform the hurting energy into the joy we wish to feel (and cannot buy) at Christmas.

Rumi says it most eloquently and succinctly.

Cry Easily

Keep your intelligence white-hot
and your grief glistening
so your life will stay fresh.
Cry easily like a little baby.

—Rumi

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

2010-12-23T10:31:00.000-08:00

I was particularly taken with winter solstice 2010 because on that night a spectacular lunar eclipse coincided with the solstice.

Here in my corner of California the clouds parted just enough to have peeks at the moon as the earth’s shadow fell on La Luna. Then, as if by magic, just the eclipse became complete, the clouds almost disappeared. As spectacular meteor flashed from east to west across the dark and starry sky.

In moments like that, Earth/Moon/Sun’s splendor are so obvious. Small wonder that people have celebrated the winter solstice for many thousands of years.

Here’s a splendid photo taken by amateur astronomer Bob Johnson and shared on his blog Black Holes and Astro stuff.

[Click Photo to enlarge]

It just made me want to sing!

I’m not the first to observe that many of our familiar Christmas holiday customs are actually adaptations of winter solstice celebrations which came before the Christian era.

Here at Mindful Heart I’d like to offer a lovely response to that comparatively recent history. My friend, Sandy Eastoak has borrowed the melody of a familiar Christmas Carol and offers us these words celebrating the winter solstice. We sang it at our meeting Tuesday night.

O Flourish All Ye Gentle Folk
(sung to the tune of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”)
by Sandy Eastoak

O, flourish all ye gentle folk, let nothing you dismay,
Remember that the sun returned to us on solstice day,
To save us all from winter’s cold and hunger’s cruel way—
O, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy,
O, tidings of comfort and joy.

O, deepen all ye seeking truth, let nothing you impede,
Remember that the winter’s dark can nourish winter’s seed,
Silent changes grow within and to compassion lead—
O, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy,
O, tidings of comfort and joy.

O, celebrate ye thankful folk, let nothing you delay,
The miracle of light and dark renews us every day,
Winter, spring,summer, fall all year the seasons play—
O, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy,
O, tidings of comfort and joy.

Be trustful all ye gracious folk, enjoy the season’s peace
Renewal of the earth’s sweet green for eons will not cease
Each winter time our hearts can rest our burdens all release—
O, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy,
O, tidings of comfort and joy.

Rejoice now all ye gentle folk be patient come what may
Remember that the sun returns each winter solstice day
That passing through the darkest time we find our brightest way—
O, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy,
O, tidings of comfort and joy.

*******************************************************************
Coda:

I think one of the best things about this season is it is an excuse for us to sing with folks we know informally, spontaneously, without shame or any need to explain.

And, allow me to pass along Ruth Mowry’s blessing—

Let’s warm up together like birds on a bough
And remember the year we’ve shared until now
Our flights have been wild, our songs wide and clear
May we scout, soar and sing
Even freer next year!

Link to Ruth Mowry’s blog, synch-ro-ni-zing

Link to Bob’s interesting blog: Blackholes and Astrostuff

What We Can Give?

2010-12-22T12:33:00.000-08:00

At this time of year, it can be helpful to remember that giving can mean more than exchanging holiday material gifts.

What else can we give to each other?

In the Heart of the Buddha’s Teachings, Thich Nhat Hahn identifies six aspects of giving.

We can give our:

PRESENCE: spending time with people

STABILITY: being loving and calm, without harboring anger, stress, sadness

MATERIAL GIFTS: within one's means, to those who are impoverished

FRESHNESS: wholeness, beginning anew, offering forgiveness

UNDERSTANDING: wisdom; offering support and reassurance to the ill and dying, so they do not feel alone

SPACIOUSNESS: non-clinging, practicing equanimity by tempering our demands of people.

"When we give these things, they grow in abundance in ourselves, and this can be applied globally as well."
Thich Nhat Hanh

Wishing all of you abundant riches as described above!

(Thanks to my good friend, Debra Birkinshaw who gave me this reminder to pass along here!)

Singing and Dancing

2010-12-20T12:17:00.000-08:00

The Society of Friends will meet Tuesday night to close out our discussion of Jack Kornfield's compilation of basic Buddhist teachings called The Teachings of the Buddha. Among the passages we'll discuss is this sublime expression by Hakuin in the Song of Zazen:

Effect and cause are the same;
the Way is neither two or three.
With form that is no form,
going and coming, we are never astray;
with thought that is no-thought,
even singing and dancing are the voice of the Law.

How boundless and free is the sky of Awareness!
How bright the full moon of wisdom!
Nirvana is right here, before our eyes;
this very place is the Lotus Land;
this very body, the Buddha.

Excerpt from The Song of Zazen by Hakuin Zenji
adapted from the translation by Robert Aitken

I feel very fortunate to have a live-and-in person group to explore Buddhist teachings, and also very fortunate to have this wider audience through blogging.

EARTHLINGS

2010-12-18T18:16:00.000-08:00

I saw recently a movie called “Earthlings” by Shaun Monson. I learned of it from blog pal, Sabio Lantz at Triangulations.

This movie was very difficult for me to watch. Some scenes were so painful that I turned my eyes away. But I’ve come to know that suffering arises, as the Buddha taught, from ignorance. If watching this movie would dispel some of my ignorance and empower me relieve some small bit of the suffering in this world, then, painful as it might be to watch—and it was very painful to watch, I must make myself see it.

I am almost sixty years old, and I felt my naïveté evaporate as I watched this movie. It is only about an hour and a half long but felt, without question, like the longest movie I’ve ever seen.

This movie disabused me of some of my delusion about animals as they encounter humans, a delusion I have a hand in perpetuating. As a kindergarten teacher I often paint fairy tale picture about animal husbandry practices in the America today, a fairy tale which suggests the norm in America is something resembling the Arable’s family farm in E.B. White’s Charlotte’s Web. (My son reminds me that in some parts of the world, as in Togo, West Africa, where he just spent two years in the Peace Corps, people follow more humane animal husbandry practices.)

This movie, Earthlings, takes an unflinching—and horrifying—look at how it really is in America and other parts of the “developed” world. We allow our animals to be treated—I’m sorry, but “tortured” is the apt and accurate word here—in order to fulfill, at minimal economic cost, our desires for pets, food, clothing, entertainment, and “scientific” research.

So, if you’re interested here’s a link to the movie’s website. You can watch it there or see the trailer: EARTHLINGS.

Here's the trailer. Warning: Don't watch it unless you're prepared to see a disturbing side of reality (and contemplating becoming a vegetarian).

Make the Connection. EARTHLINGS.com

Wean Yourself

2010-12-15T06:21:00.000-08:00

One of my teachers usefully pointed out to me that my “scientific” skepticism about the existence of otherworldly realms was, essentially, fashionable.

Across the broad sweep of human experience, an enormous chorus of mystics and wisdom seekers have encouraged us to look beyond the evidence available through the “five” senses—beyond even what we can perceive aided by powerful tools like radio telescopes and electron microscopes.

I join that chorus. A meditation practice is one place to begin a search for what lies outside ordinary perception.

Here, listen to Rumi—

WEAN YOURSELF

little by little wean yourself.
this is the gist of what i have to say.

from an embryo, whose nourishment comes in blood
move to an infant drinking milk,
to a child on solid food,’to a searcher for wisdom,
to a hunter of more invisible game.

think how it is to have a conversation with an embryo.
you might say, the world outside is vast and intricate.
there are wheat fields and mountain passes
and orchards in bloom.

at night there are millions of galaxies, and in sunlight
the beauty of friends dancing at a wedding.

you ask the embryo, why stay cooped up
in the dark with eyes closed?

listen to the answer:

there is no “other world.”
i only know what i have experienced.
you must be hallucinating.

—rumi

Mute Muse, an Etheree*

2010-12-13T21:06:00.000-08:00

like
concrete
kwan yin who
stands wordlessly
in the entry way
of my house, sentry fey
spirit of lovingkindness
like her, my muse is mute, guarded
as i make love, sing, dance, cook, paint, walk
eschewing idle chatter, needless talk

*********************************

*Consisting of ten lines, the Etheree poem starts with a one syllable line, then adds one syllable per line, until the last line of ten syllables for an overall syllable count of 55. In other words the syllabic structure is as follows: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. It’s an uncomplicated, unpretentious form of poetry that has the quality of slowly opening, like a flower.

I'm a Fungi. I mean a Fun Guy.

2010-12-12T08:23:00.000-08:00

Each day the web of life becomes more sacred and more amazing to me.

I’m convinced that the lowly fungus may be not only the largest, but perhaps also among the oldest and most intelligent life form on Earth.

Here, from Wiki:

“Is this the largest organism in the world? This 2,400-acre (9.7 km2) site in eastern Oregon had a contiguous growth of mycelium before logging roads cut through it. Estimated at 1,665 football fields in size and 2,200 years old, this one fungus has killed the forest above it several times over, and in so doing has built deeper soil layers that allow the growth of ever-larger stands of trees. Mushroom-forming forest fungi are unique in that their mycelial mats can achieve such massive proportions.”

—Paul Stamets, Mycelium Running

Under our feet in the forest are vast mats of fungi forming fecund soil in ever deeper layers. This soil grows trees. Trees produce food and oxygen for parasitic animal life—our kin—that fascinate us so. Is it not accurate to call animals parasites?

What do the fungi know? I suspect they know a great deal. I know that fungi can undo some of the toxins and compounds that our chemical engineers concoct and render them useful to life again. According to Wiki:

“One of the primary roles of fungi in an ecosystem is to decompose organic compounds. Petroleum products and pesticides that can be contaminants of soil are organic molecules. Therefore, fungi should have potential to remove such pollutants from the soil environment, a process known as bioremediation.”

Though I haven’t experimented personally, others report learning things from eating psilocybin mushrooms. According to Wikipedia, again,

“61% of subjects reported a "complete mystical experience" after their psilocybin session, while only 13% reported such an outcome after their experience with methylphenidate [Riralin]. Two months after taking psilocybin, 79% of the participants reported moderately to greatly increased life satisfaction and sense of well-being.”

Is the fungal genetic code vastly larger than our own? I don’t think anyone knows, but I suspect that it is.

(We know that trees have more genes than humans, a lot more. See my post, “Why I Listen to Trees.”)

Are fungi our truest Mother? Are trees her dendrites?

Here’s a poem my friend Sandy shared at our Meeting:

redwoods

how long ago
is the voice you hear
stopping in silence
among their big
weights rising

how thousand
the breathing years
& years
the damp rolling
off their trunks

misty cloud
in the light
of a millionth
morning
green moss
singing

how old the fingers
that weave
the bark
red gray ridges
swirling & fraying
higher higher

how vast the hands
that cup the
sheltering needles
into sky & hold
through merciful
breezes & violent
storms

miles & miles of clouds
racing the globe
drop their stories
in the web of
sky spidering
green always
green

the redwoods
drop the stories
from far away
with the wet needle
drip of close
close fog

mingle them with
billions whispered
under their shade
told by tender tracking
roots conversing
with mycelium acres

tiny human
when silent
among the fire resistant
trunks attended by
fern & lichen & sorrel
you can hear the forever
of past joking with
unimaginable
future

the simple
call of jay or
fugue of raven
flash of bolete or
shimmer of tan oak
in the skittering
light

becomes significant
as the first ever
smile

eloquent as the
very last word

a salvation
unto itself
& all our
relations

—sandy eastoak

Let me give Rumi the last word here:

Love is not condescending, never that,

nor books, nor any marking on paper,

nor what people say of each other.

Love is a tree

with branches reaching into eternity

and roots set deep in eternity,

and no trunk.

Have you seen it? The mind cannot.

Your desiring cannot.

The longing you feel for this love

comes from inside you.

When you become the Friend,

your longing will be as the man in the ocean

who holds to a piece of wood.

Eventually, wood, man, and ocean

become one swaying being,

Shams Tabriz, the secret of God.

—Rumi

Links:

sandy eastoak

Mycelia

Psilocybin