I visited Nikky a few times in the hospital during the week she was there. Each time, she was more and more herself. The last time I was there, two of her granddaughters were there too. To them, she was not herself at all, and probably has not been for quite some time. To me, she was my angel, my "paysan," again.
The last time I went, she had just been discharged, and I don't know where she is now. She did not return to Walpan, and I have not heard from the director there, or her family. It is possible that I will never see her again. And why should I? I am not family, or even a friend of the family. I am just someone who found an angel, and will always have her with me.
Showing posts with label Buddhism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Buddhism. Show all posts
Monday, April 7, 2008
Hindsight and Foresight
I almost never like pictures of myself at the time they are taken. The "me" that looks out of my eyes is in many ways the "me" from photos taken in high school and college, but with all of the wisdom of the 20 years since then. So I am always taken by surprise with the crinkles, wrinkles, and chronic fatigue that I see in new photos. I've noticed, however, that when I look at a photo from a few years ago, I like it a lot more than I did when it was taken. I think, "boy, I looked really good back then. How come I didn't realize it at the time?" And come to think of it, I wasn't that happy with myself in high school and college anyway -- always wishing I were a little thinner, a lot taller, that my hair was straighter, my waist smaller .... So maybe the trick is to always look at photos with the eyes of my future self. Because then, in hindsight, I'll look pretty damn good.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Holy Beings All Around Us
In Mexico, there were men who cleaned the seaweed from the beach each morning. Beginning at dawn, they would sweep the beach, making clumps of seaweed, and then load the seaweed into wheelbarrows and walk the wheelbarrows down the beach, dump the seaweed, and come back for another load. All morning, they wheeled their wheelbarrows back and forth along the hot beach until the seaweed was cleared away. One of these men was a particularly striking looking gentleman, with a leathery tan, wizened eyes, and silver rimmed front teeth. He reminded me of Jack Palanz, in City Slickers – a tough guy you wouldn’t want to mess with. But when our eyes met, and I thanked him for his hard work, he gave me a dazzling smile, and then went quietly about his tasks.
I saw him every morning, and was struck by the patient poetry of how he carried out his task of making the beach beautiful for me and the other visitors. I began to see him as a holy being, a saint, attending to his job with diligence and dedication, and felt great gratitude to him for contributing to the beauty of Maya Tulum.
Once I realized this, I noticed other holy beings going about their tasks that looked small on the surface, but made such a difference in the quality of life at our resort: there was the smiling woman who came in after each yoga class to sweep the studio, align the blankets and blocks, and tidy up the mats; the men who were constantly raking and smoothing the sand along the paths; the woman who each day, cleaned my palapa and folded my towels into whimsical swans and birds; a smiling waiter named Rafael, who gave me a grand “Buenos Dias Senorita” every morning.
It is easy to make these observations on vacation; particularly on a spiritual retreat where we are focusing on the divinity of every human being. But what about at home? How would our world change if we viewed the sanitation workers who pick up our trash as buddhas, or the crossing guards who keep our children safe on the way to school? Or the metro-card sellers in the NY subways; or the person who bags the groceries? Just imagine what kind of changes would be put into place if we viewed the people we barely notice in our day as holy beings. Try it.
I saw him every morning, and was struck by the patient poetry of how he carried out his task of making the beach beautiful for me and the other visitors. I began to see him as a holy being, a saint, attending to his job with diligence and dedication, and felt great gratitude to him for contributing to the beauty of Maya Tulum.
Once I realized this, I noticed other holy beings going about their tasks that looked small on the surface, but made such a difference in the quality of life at our resort: there was the smiling woman who came in after each yoga class to sweep the studio, align the blankets and blocks, and tidy up the mats; the men who were constantly raking and smoothing the sand along the paths; the woman who each day, cleaned my palapa and folded my towels into whimsical swans and birds; a smiling waiter named Rafael, who gave me a grand “Buenos Dias Senorita” every morning.
It is easy to make these observations on vacation; particularly on a spiritual retreat where we are focusing on the divinity of every human being. But what about at home? How would our world change if we viewed the sanitation workers who pick up our trash as buddhas, or the crossing guards who keep our children safe on the way to school? Or the metro-card sellers in the NY subways; or the person who bags the groceries? Just imagine what kind of changes would be put into place if we viewed the people we barely notice in our day as holy beings. Try it.
Happiness and Suffering
If the cause of seeing suffering in my world is karmic seeds ripening;
And the compassionate actions I take to alleviate that suffering are the cause of karmic seeds to see happiness;
Then the result of my right actions will be to see happiness in my world, and the end of all suffering.
Then that must mean that:
• Those I see suffering may not, from their own side, be suffering; but I see them suffering because I have the seeds to see that suffering and thus suffer.
• Those I see suffering might, from their own side, be pretending to suffer to give me an opportunity to practice compassion and thus plant seeds to not see them suffer.
• When I see happiness in my life, it must be the result of karmic seeds planted from compassionate actions I have taken to help others.
How can I be happy if I constantly hold in my heart the suffering in the world?
Is it by remembering that the suffering is my own projection because of seeds I once planted?
If I understand that the suffering I see necessarily comes from me, and thus may or may not actually be suffering from the side of those I see suffering (because they are either holy beings pretending to suffer to help me with my karma, or because the “reality” of their suffering is my projection), is my path then to practice the 6 perfections as though everyone in my world is a realized being?
And the compassionate actions I take to alleviate that suffering are the cause of karmic seeds to see happiness;
Then the result of my right actions will be to see happiness in my world, and the end of all suffering.
Then that must mean that:
• Those I see suffering may not, from their own side, be suffering; but I see them suffering because I have the seeds to see that suffering and thus suffer.
• Those I see suffering might, from their own side, be pretending to suffer to give me an opportunity to practice compassion and thus plant seeds to not see them suffer.
• When I see happiness in my life, it must be the result of karmic seeds planted from compassionate actions I have taken to help others.
How can I be happy if I constantly hold in my heart the suffering in the world?
Is it by remembering that the suffering is my own projection because of seeds I once planted?
If I understand that the suffering I see necessarily comes from me, and thus may or may not actually be suffering from the side of those I see suffering (because they are either holy beings pretending to suffer to help me with my karma, or because the “reality” of their suffering is my projection), is my path then to practice the 6 perfections as though everyone in my world is a realized being?
Friday, March 7, 2008
A Beautiful Sight
Today in meditation, I had the experience of rolling with the waves and wind. My body and the winds and waves were one, blanketing the planet from above and below. I saw the world as a ball of light, and all the beings on it as stars, burning brightly like the light of fireflies. There were no wars or starvation or hatred or extremism or brutality – just bright, shining lights, glowing along their trajectories.
Prayers for Free
This morning I spent over 30 minutes trying to get online to check my email. Oy.
From The Buddha:
The day is now ended; my life is shorter.
How have I lived this day?
I resolve to practice with all my heart,
So that I may live deeply, as a free person,
always aware of impermanence,
lest my life drift away meaninglessly.
I am of the nature to grow old; there is no way to escape growing old.
I am of the nature to have ill health; there is no way to escape ill health.
I am of the nature to die; there is no way to escape death.
All I hold dear, and everyone I love are of the nature to change;
there is no way to escape being separated from them.
My actions are my only true belonging.
I cannot escape the consequences of my actions.
My actions are the ground upon which I stand.
From The Buddha:
The day is now ended; my life is shorter.
How have I lived this day?
I resolve to practice with all my heart,
So that I may live deeply, as a free person,
always aware of impermanence,
lest my life drift away meaninglessly.
I am of the nature to grow old; there is no way to escape growing old.
I am of the nature to have ill health; there is no way to escape ill health.
I am of the nature to die; there is no way to escape death.
All I hold dear, and everyone I love are of the nature to change;
there is no way to escape being separated from them.
My actions are my only true belonging.
I cannot escape the consequences of my actions.
My actions are the ground upon which I stand.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Back In Tulum
March 4, 2008
I woke early - 5:30 AM. The wind was raging outside and the ocean rumbled. I think we had a storm, or at least rain in the night, but I’m not sure.
Woke having a dream about Uncle Steve. We were all going out to a place like “The Supper Club,” and I was trying to get him to sing. I had a recording of “You Can’t Take That Away From Me,” and he sang along to it a few times. Of course, he was nervous about forgetting the words, and practiced scatting awhile. Then it was nearly time to go. He was going to wear a tux, and I was going to wear a tux, so I decided I should wear something different. I sewed pink ruffles and lace trim to my black stretchy Club Med dress. I tried it on (and somehow that was in a restaurant!), but the sewing made the dress really puffy so I changed back into my tux. Whenever I looked in the mirror, I looked just like my brother Joe. But no matter… Then, I was looking in my files for the words to “Can’t Take That Away from Me,” and couldn’t find them. I thought about whether I would have time to make copies from my fake book. All along, I kept reminding myself that I could just print out the words from my computer, but I kept forgetting that and looking for them anyway. Dad called and sang “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” on the phone, and I woke up.
Hmm….
There are lovely people here. Most are women and in their late 20s – on the cusp of their adult lives. They are beautiful – strong and soft at the same time, their bodies smooth and firm, unblemished and un-stretched by childbirth, nursing, or the other rites of adult womanhood. They casually wear their bikinis, belly shirt, or low-rise yoga pants, seemingly at home in their bodies. I look at them and wonder if they appreciate the glory of their youth – I know I didn’t. Was my body ever as full of promise and perfection? I always struggled with it, feeling self-conscious about my not so flat belly and small breasts -- never realizing that it was at its peak. On Monday in class, Kelly said, the biggest cause of death is birth. We are all on our way to death from the moment we are born, and so the recourse we have is to become beings of light inside our earthly bodies, which are decaying all the time. If these girls harbor any negative feelings about themselves, you wouldn’t know it. Although each is a different shape and size, they all seem filled with light and the blue of the sky inside their perfect skin.
Angelica's mother is German and her father is Japanese. She is quite beautiful with almond eyes, an olive complexion, jet-black hair, and a wide, easy smile. She has no hard edges or angularity at all and carries herself with a dancer's posture. Her mother came to Minnesota from Germany, following an inner call to work with Native Americans and study macrobiotic nutrition. Her father was also in school, studying macrobiotics, and that is how they met. I find it fascinating that Angelica grew up in a home where eating consciously was taken for granted. She grew up without any processed foods – believing that eating food as close to its natural state and source is very important. She works in nutrition in NY. Yesterday morning, she told me that she had woken up from a dream about her mother, and missed her terribly. But then, she said, she was consoled by the fact that I was like her mother on this trip. And she hugged me, full of emotion.
It is a funny thing to be the senior person here – and I am. There are two men, John and Joe, both in their late 40s, but I am the eldest. Erin and Stacey are here – both from the Lotus Teacher Training. And Erin, when she saw me, exclaimed with joy, “I not only have my adopted sister here but my Jewish mama too!” Ironic, isn’t it; I came on this retreat, in part, to be in a place where I can be away from my roles as mother, producer, supervisor, manager, etc., and I have been named a surrogate mom and explainer of the teachings to many of the other participants. They think I am wise, but I think my knowledge is only the tip of the iceberg.
Yesterday’s dharma talk and class were about perfecting kindness. As Brooke explained it, we could never, in our human bodies, travel the world and eradicate pain and suffering in every human being. It is not possible. But we can eradicate it in our minds, and offer that perfection to everyone we meet, giving it to them and hoping that they realize it and offer it in their turn. She said that it is easy to be kind to those who are kind to us, but asked, “What is the attitude you hold towards people you may never meet? Or people who are not kind to you?” She asked us to try to remember that people who we perceive as not kind are usually full of pain and are suffering. And thus, more than anyone, they need our kindness. As Kelly said yesterday, you can only see in people what you yourself are or have been in the past. This is a very hard concept, especially when thinking about someone like Hitler. Sometimes I understand it, but sometimes I don’t. Still, it does make sense to me that reacting with anger and unkindness never helps a situation, and inevitably causes me suffering – either with a muscle spasm, headache, or irritable stomach. We must see each and every person as a holy, perfectly realized being. Because any imperfections we see in them are only reflections of ourselves.
I woke early - 5:30 AM. The wind was raging outside and the ocean rumbled. I think we had a storm, or at least rain in the night, but I’m not sure.
Woke having a dream about Uncle Steve. We were all going out to a place like “The Supper Club,” and I was trying to get him to sing. I had a recording of “You Can’t Take That Away From Me,” and he sang along to it a few times. Of course, he was nervous about forgetting the words, and practiced scatting awhile. Then it was nearly time to go. He was going to wear a tux, and I was going to wear a tux, so I decided I should wear something different. I sewed pink ruffles and lace trim to my black stretchy Club Med dress. I tried it on (and somehow that was in a restaurant!), but the sewing made the dress really puffy so I changed back into my tux. Whenever I looked in the mirror, I looked just like my brother Joe. But no matter… Then, I was looking in my files for the words to “Can’t Take That Away from Me,” and couldn’t find them. I thought about whether I would have time to make copies from my fake book. All along, I kept reminding myself that I could just print out the words from my computer, but I kept forgetting that and looking for them anyway. Dad called and sang “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” on the phone, and I woke up.
Hmm….
There are lovely people here. Most are women and in their late 20s – on the cusp of their adult lives. They are beautiful – strong and soft at the same time, their bodies smooth and firm, unblemished and un-stretched by childbirth, nursing, or the other rites of adult womanhood. They casually wear their bikinis, belly shirt, or low-rise yoga pants, seemingly at home in their bodies. I look at them and wonder if they appreciate the glory of their youth – I know I didn’t. Was my body ever as full of promise and perfection? I always struggled with it, feeling self-conscious about my not so flat belly and small breasts -- never realizing that it was at its peak. On Monday in class, Kelly said, the biggest cause of death is birth. We are all on our way to death from the moment we are born, and so the recourse we have is to become beings of light inside our earthly bodies, which are decaying all the time. If these girls harbor any negative feelings about themselves, you wouldn’t know it. Although each is a different shape and size, they all seem filled with light and the blue of the sky inside their perfect skin.
Angelica's mother is German and her father is Japanese. She is quite beautiful with almond eyes, an olive complexion, jet-black hair, and a wide, easy smile. She has no hard edges or angularity at all and carries herself with a dancer's posture. Her mother came to Minnesota from Germany, following an inner call to work with Native Americans and study macrobiotic nutrition. Her father was also in school, studying macrobiotics, and that is how they met. I find it fascinating that Angelica grew up in a home where eating consciously was taken for granted. She grew up without any processed foods – believing that eating food as close to its natural state and source is very important. She works in nutrition in NY. Yesterday morning, she told me that she had woken up from a dream about her mother, and missed her terribly. But then, she said, she was consoled by the fact that I was like her mother on this trip. And she hugged me, full of emotion.
It is a funny thing to be the senior person here – and I am. There are two men, John and Joe, both in their late 40s, but I am the eldest. Erin and Stacey are here – both from the Lotus Teacher Training. And Erin, when she saw me, exclaimed with joy, “I not only have my adopted sister here but my Jewish mama too!” Ironic, isn’t it; I came on this retreat, in part, to be in a place where I can be away from my roles as mother, producer, supervisor, manager, etc., and I have been named a surrogate mom and explainer of the teachings to many of the other participants. They think I am wise, but I think my knowledge is only the tip of the iceberg.
Yesterday’s dharma talk and class were about perfecting kindness. As Brooke explained it, we could never, in our human bodies, travel the world and eradicate pain and suffering in every human being. It is not possible. But we can eradicate it in our minds, and offer that perfection to everyone we meet, giving it to them and hoping that they realize it and offer it in their turn. She said that it is easy to be kind to those who are kind to us, but asked, “What is the attitude you hold towards people you may never meet? Or people who are not kind to you?” She asked us to try to remember that people who we perceive as not kind are usually full of pain and are suffering. And thus, more than anyone, they need our kindness. As Kelly said yesterday, you can only see in people what you yourself are or have been in the past. This is a very hard concept, especially when thinking about someone like Hitler. Sometimes I understand it, but sometimes I don’t. Still, it does make sense to me that reacting with anger and unkindness never helps a situation, and inevitably causes me suffering – either with a muscle spasm, headache, or irritable stomach. We must see each and every person as a holy, perfectly realized being. Because any imperfections we see in them are only reflections of ourselves.
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