Saturday, July 13, 2013

How Was Your Trip?

side of a truck that's been graffitied, paris, june 2013
It's the first question I get upon returning from Europe each summer.
Sometimes I get it when I take smaller teaching trips - Toronto, Chicago, even.
But there's nothing quite like being gone for five weeks to Europe.

It's a fair question to ask. A kind one. And one I often don't want to answer. Here's why.


Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Thank You

"Eyes of Love," Paris storefront, June 2013
For my writing students.

 “Writing is constantly letting letters arrange into different combinations and meanings.”
-       a student from this last seven-week session

Thank you
for showing up
for speaking out
for putting up with struggle
for laughing when you can
for giving critic space before giving it the boot
for your sincere joy and curiosity
for witnessing words and their energy
for being game to go as far as you can at any given time
for your commitment to the unknown.

Sometimes total strangers trump intimacy in terms of safety and secrecy.

Sometimes metaphor carries deep feeling miles further than it can by itself.

Sometimes when breath hits the bottom of lungs, of diaphragm, something cracks and opens knowing that is otherwise unspoken
there in those spaces we pull out
the shovels
the maps
the compasses
and we curiosity our way through our minds’ landscapes
our hearts’ fire escapes
our instincts’ innate flow
our potential fates’ uneven knowing

Sometimes in the middle of the most ordinary-seeming statements, something clicks into place that’s been edging in that direction, letter by letter, syllable by syllable, for decades.

It’s in those moments
and the gaps in-between
that we practice
this writing.

Sacred and mundane
deep and cheap
real and fantastical
understood and undermined
woven and separate.

Wednesday, June 05, 2013

Chez moi, ou non pas? (My home, or not?)

"Please don't park here - car exit" Paris, 2012


I remember when I was eleven or so, I went on a trip with my brothers to Ohio, for a family friend's wedding. Staying in her apartment, one of a large building that encircled an active courtyard, I recorded the sounds that were so unusual - normal to someone but not to me - and enjoyed listening to them again and again. I wasn't bothered by being "kept awake" - I was curious about this place where even the pace of speech differed.

I could hear people's conversations, something I didn't often overhear in my quiet, "a suburb not attached to a larger city" town of upbringing. I heard basketball and sirens, yelling and people running around. It was what made me most aware I was elsewhere.

So, when I woke from a nap this afternoon in the lovely, light and open fifth story bedroom of my host's place in Paris, I had a similar curiosity. For a moment, I thought I was at home:
I heard skateboards outside, cars shuffling around one another, a cat on my left, cuddled up close.
It could have been home: comfortable, clean, cozy.
Only, it's not.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

End of In No Sense



Is this the end of innocence? Or the end of confusion? 
The end of delusion or the end of illusion?
What is innocence, anyway? In-no-sense. In no sense did I understand what marriage entails. And in no sense is it a problem. And yet. And yet. In some sense I thought I knew. That’s innocence – thinking we know? Or is that arrogance? Innocence is not even knowing there’s something to think or know about.
I would not prefer innocence. That Buddhist adage – don’t start and if you do start, get it over with quickly. Yeh. And yet, when I do slow down and realize what is really going on, I am so grateful that I have developed skills to notice. That I know something now, things I didn’t even realize one could know, then. When I was innocent.

Friday, May 03, 2013

Trust, Suspicion and True Freedom

Rotterdam, Netherlands, June 2012
I have had a few conversations lately that all seem to be coming from the same core place.

The three "topics" have been:
1. Why do we not meditate when things are going "well"?
2. Why do we not question/ask for what we need when things are going "well"?
3. What's the difference between trusting and blithely hoping (shutting out real concerns) when things are going "well"?

These three separate conversations, at their core, also meet in when things are "not going well:"

When things are not going well, why do we insist on some absolute answer/decision/knowing that they will be ok in the future? This could come in the form of any fix: a verbal/mental guarantee, guilt/taking responsibility for it having "gone wrong" (even if it wasn't your fault) or buying some kind of material good to "fix" a problem that isn't the actual core issue.

Last week, I had quite a panic going on. I was convinced that my wife "has" to do a lot of work in a particular area (we both acknowledge that she does, but the urgency of the "has to" is what really nailed me down). I asked a friend to tell me that she was "confident that my wife will do the work she needs - I need her - to do." As soon as I asked for that request, an awareness that that temporary fix, that temporary consolation/false hope, would not actually help. I wanted a guarantee where there is no guarantee.

So, I said, as soon as I said that out loud, I think what I need to ask is if I believe it is possible for her to do the work. Is it? I asked myself. Yes, I said. I believe it is possible. That does not mean she will do it. And yet, somehow I felt more relaxed with this more realistic understanding. I know that as long as I think it is possible, I will be more trusting and more honest, and paying attention to my own knowing, instead of suspicious and angry when I worry that she isn't doing it.

My wife has also realized, at an ever-continuing level, that when her music-making is going well (which is most of the time), she lacks for nothing. When she is inspired and making great tunes, her equipment is just right. However, when she feels uninspired or is down in some other way, she looks for new gear, new toys to somehow pick up her game, improve her work flow or pull her out of a rut. This is such a common, human thing that it almost feels ridiculous to point out, but when she mentioned that comparison this morning, we both laughed:

If there's nothing missing when it is going right, 
then there is nothing missing when it is going wrong.

Finally, my best friend and I discussed this morning how much we so deeply want to trust situations when they are going well - all the plans are lining up, connecting with a loved one feels good - that we stop asking for what we need. This is good enough, we think, very good - so good that we hope/wish/believe it will never "be bad" again, and we stop asking for what might seem "above and beyond" in the situation. We trust the situation will provide without us having to do any work, which simply isn't true, and becomes a set up for a fall.  What's the fall? The fall is that when things begin to fall apart, we blame ourselves for not trusting it enough, or not doing enough - the latter of which may (or may not) be true, but also is impossible to prevent if we have a core belief that a situation is good enough and we shouldn't rock the boat by doing more.

We can ask questions and still trust.
We can ask questions and not be suspicious.
We can agitate for "even better" when things are "already good."
And, most importantly, we need to continue practicing: being clear, being honest, and watching our own minds, when things are smoother and easier, because they will, without doubt, become uneasy and unsmooth again, likely, quicker than we'd like.

Often people comment to me when they get beginning meditation instruction, especially at follow-up meetings, that they find they stop meditating when things are going well. I've come to believe we do this out of some kind of reverse cause-and-effect understanding. If we take the practice that helps when things aren't going well, and do it when things are going well, then things will somehow  go wrong. This is reverse magical-thinking, and it is plain wrong.

We can ask for help, support ourselves, pay attention to what is going on when things are going well. We can feel ease in our bodies, we can notice when we are in not-pain. We can watch our patterns and know, trust, that things will get rough again, so as not to blame ourselves unduly when the shit hits the fan.

Meditation is always* helpful.
The best part about meditation is that it helps keep things simple and plain and clear:
Watching your mind, knowing your mind is the best preventative for over-consumption, for self-deception, for wishful thinking that keeps us locked in non-reality. 

These are always the core issues. 
If these don't resonant with you language-wise, find your own way. 
Don't get distracted by the stories - see what is always going on underneath:
Knowing what we need.
Knowing what we can do for ourselves.
Knowing what we can do for others.
Knowing when to ask for help.

This is true freedom: 
Knowing underneath, no matter what happens, we are fundamentally good.

*Every once and awhile, we need a walk instead. Some fresh air. A good cry. But in comparison to shutting down, any practice of awareness, of being-with rather than hoping-for, is beneficial without fault. Try it. And if you find you agree, trust it. That's a great thing to trust.