photo by Kim Stafford

 

Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue

 

I find it interesting how my mind works.

—Michel Deforge

 

February 15, 2020

 

Welcome to our sixth meditation and mindfulness dialogue! The numbers below refer to passages from the book Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh. The tag on my Yogi Tea bag says: “Compassion will make you beautiful.” (JS)

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Hey guys, I hope you enjoy this M & M submission.

You are all great & I hope you’re well.

I’m looking forward to reading your submissions.

 

#95  What Is Your True Face?

 

An answer from the face of ages.

 

What was my face you’ve queried, and although I know what it is, I can’t say it ever was.

Change…  As far as I can tell my face has never changed.

Only the great multitude of masks I don in a moment’s notice can be defined as change, and only then in a second’s split.

Underneath my face remains the same, frozen, pursed in the seeker’s scowl as it journeys through the ages.

What was my face?

My face always is, and in always being never was, for the pulse of life is too strong to resist, & the change of masks a familiar constant.

Remember, how could I forget?

I still remember them all, whether gilded, plain, or in between, I still remember.

Maybe it’s time for a change…

 

—Joshua Tyler Barnes

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I’m 25 wisdoms into Your True Home, and so far what has occupied my thinking most is the apparent (to my novice understanding) conflict for an artist (specifically writers) trying to practice mindfulness and meditation. My struggle with meditation is that I start to have good ideas! Then, I don’t want to forget them, so I either A) begin ruining the meditation by trying not to forget the good idea, or B) stop meditating so I can write down the good idea before I forget it. Also, as a writer, I am always applying words & labels & categories to everything I see, thereby denying the essential emptiness of everything, which my heart & mind both know to be true. But there is an everpresent pull, a wish, to exist without the endless desire to write about, catalog, chronicle the act of existence. This isn’t a unique torment. It’s actually something a lot of writers write about, especially poets: “I throw my quill into the sea, and burn my parchments,” etc. There’s an excellent little monograph by Ben Lerner called “The Hatred of Poetry” that I recommend you read. In it, he talks about this strange inclination, as evidenced in the renunciations of writing by legends such as Rimbaud & Oppen.

 

—Alex Tretbar

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Not Thinking While Writing

 

Before I write in the early morning, I sit in the dark for a time, breathing, resisting thought but welcoming wondering, sensation, and the simple ache of being that is more primordial than regret or fear, the pleasure of some hunger, some cold. I’m in the shed, after all, in my chair with the strips of rug on the runners because it once lived in the fire station, where the card players did not want to disturb the sleepers.

 

When I write, do I want to disturb the sleepers? No, I want to sidle into their dreams and tell them how beautiful they are, give them wishes, provide them with stories of simple triumph that hurts no one, so when they wake, life will be a little easier. So we all may be more curious than afraid.

 

In 1913, the Russian futurist poet Aleksei Kruchenykh created the word zaum, which means ‘beyond or behind the mind.’ He sought an experimental poetic language characterized by indeterminacy: ‘beyonsense.’

 

The geese are shouting as they fly north

so they will not be encumbered by all those

extra syllables, can concentrate on the magnetic

tug toward the far beyond.

 

The river leaves its shouting in the mountains 

so in the valley it can depend on wink and whisper 

to convey its learning, its salmon home scent

for anyone alert enough to notice.

 

Shall I throw my pen into the sea? Shall I take 

a vow of silence in order to be worthy of this 

existence? How many trees did my poems have to 

kill, anyway, to gather these pages? Just enough.

 

I plant seeds of silence, syllable by syllable.

My greatest gift for you is the space between words

where my code tells the secrets of our oldest kinship,

and all my love in the silence after the last breath.

 

—Kim Stafford

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Kim also sent this poem by Chuang Tzu, along with a writing prompt:

 

The Woodcarver

 

Khing, the master carver, made a bell stand

Of precious wood. When it was finished,

All who saw it were astounded. They said it must be

The work of spirits.

The Prince of Lu said to the master carver:

What is your secret?

 

Khing replied: I am only a workman:

I have no secret. There is only this:

When I began to think about 

the work you commanded

I guarded my spirit, did not expend it

On trifles, that were not to the point.

I fasted in order to set

My heart at rest.

After three days fasting,

I had forgotten gain and success.

After five days

I had forgotten praise or criticism.

After seven days I had forgotten my body

With all its limbs.

 

By this time all thought of your Highness

And of the court had faded away.

All that might distract me from the work

Had vanished.

I was collected in the single thought

Of the bell stand.

 

Then I went to the forest

To see the trees in their own natural state.

When the right tree appeared before my eyes,

The bell stand also appeared in it, clearly, 

beyond doubt.

All I had to do was to put forth my hand

and begin.

 

If I had not met this particular tree

There would have been 

No bell stand at all.

 

What happened?

My own collected thought

Encountered the hidden potential in the wood;

From this live encounter came the work

Which you ascribe to the spirits.

 

—Chuang Tzu (translated by Thomas Merton)

 

Chuang Tzu, or Zhuang Zhou, or Zhaungzi…was an influential Chinese philosopher who lived around the 4^th century B.C., during the Warring States period, a time corresponding to the summit of Chinese philosophy, the Hundred Schools of Thought. He is credited with writing…one of the foundational texts of Taoism… He is described as a minor official from the town of Meng, in the state of Song. (Wikipedia)

 

Writing prompt: Tell the story  of something you did purely for beauty, for essence, in response to a call that reached your heart…

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(Some excerpts from Michel’s meditation journal:)

 

January 24, 2021

 

#69 Suddenly You Are Free

 

It may happen like that—suddenly. Two days ago, I was uprooted and moved from my place of comfort and peace (complacency?), to a new unit. I tested positive for COVID-19 on 1/14. The DOC response was to take all positives and cohort us in one unit. There was little communication and much chaos and anxiety for all affected staff. Many of my fellow prisoners are also stressed out beyond their limits, or at the very fringe of their coping. I too was initially anxious. Because I was the only one leaving my unit and I didn’t know where I was moving or why. As soon as I learned it was not a move to the DSU/“Med” iso wing and that the goal was a conversion of a regular incentive unit into a COVID isloation/quarantine unit, I was able to release my tensions. I hate moving!….

 

Yet, somehow, amidst all the chaos, my stress settled quickly and I stumbled across peace, acceptance and understanding—suddenly. I’m no great success with mindfulness and meditation. But, sometimes it works!

 

In some ways, I see the truth of Thây’s thought in the experience, and in some ways I wonder if he is speaking of a more deliberate and permanent result of all the work—suddenly finding freedom after looking for so many years. I do think that for something appearing suddenly, it can also disappear just as suddenly. If I relax into the appearance and don’t grasp it tightly, then, maybe, I won’t get hurt so much when it goes away just as suddenly.

 

January 25, 2021

 

#70   Miraculous Smile

 

Writing here, I am also looking at my first lines from January 1. So much has happened since then. Yet, it is still true. Life is really “perfect” just the way it happens—whether I “like” it or not is irrelevant. Today’s writing reminds me of how easy it can be to feel better. As Thây puts it, knowing (how) to breathe, we can find our peace and our smile. (I wonder if I really know how to breathe.) I have had times when finding my smile has helped someone else relax a little. I have read before that faking a genuine smile will cause a shift of hormones and thoughts, leading to having a genuine smile—I think it works. Whatever the case, I can stop…breathe…smile at myself (or what/whom ever)…and carry on with my day. It may or may not be a grand “miracle.” It will be a smile and a moment of breathing mindfully. It will be a break, no matter how brief, from whatever else is competing for my life’s energy. And, it is a moment I can control in a world of chaos.

 

9:00 pm Update:

 

Having been awoken for mail delivery…(normally, this would be grounds for great upset by any prisoner), I came to realize this poor fella (PM-swing CO) running this unit is having to keep up with a “COVID-POSITIVE” unit—with showers, phone calls, access to ice and water and whatever other services he must provide—like mail, meals, call-outs—alone… It is hard to not have compassion for anyone subjected to such work-conditions, (or, it’s relatively “easy,” especially since he has been positive and generally conciliatory in the performance of his duties). I find it interesting how my mind works. A staff person whom I don’t know, and with whom I haven’t had much contact, comes in, working alone, with a positive attitude, doing all he (or she) can to keep abreast of the daily duties, and is doing so in a manner which does not put any of that burden upon us prisoners—is one to applaud. It is easy to feel compassion, almost automatically, for this person. Random thoughts at 10 pm.

 

January 27, 2021

 

#71  Habit Energy

 

….I see this same pattern in my life—OLD HABIT energy holding me back or weighing me down. When I can, I let it go. Sometimes I need to go through a challenging learning process to do this. In the end I grow. Thây doesn’t teach a technique for letting go, but a gentle awakening to an awareness of exploration into the habit energy I do have—be it of my own creation, or inherited. Having come to an awareness, I then have a choice about what I do with that energy—keep, change, or Let Go. I have power.

 

January 28, 2021

 

#72  You Are Safe Now

 

This is not a phrase I hear here in prison often. Yet, it’s timely. I just had a cellie on a previous unit—(they’re bouncing the COVID POSITIVES – PRE/POST CLEARANCE all over)—who was told he was to move to an unknown cell with high probability of mortal danger. Through timely machinations by kind staff he was allowed to stay put—he’s safe. That same night I got word of my immanent reassignment. I am back “home” on Unit 13. I too am safe now. I wonder how often we fail to recognize this truth in our day-to-day ordinary lives. If I never hear this, or tell myself this, will I be able to recognize when a crisis is over and I am again safe? My guess is: no. I wonder how many of life’s challenges became traumas simply because I didn’t know I was now “safe.” And, maybe I never knew “safe” as part of my reality growing up, but, I can learn that now and maybe even offer this bit of help to another in saying, “You’re safe now.” (Mantra exercise, with breath.)

 

January 29, 2021

 

#73  The Anchor

 

Once again I am brought back and reminded that my breath is my connection to life. “Well, sure, silly! Of course it is. Everyone has to breathe to stay alive.” It is true. To live is to breathe. If I stop breathing, I stop living. It’s an unavoidable technicality. I am, however, looking through Thây’s lens. When I am disconnected from my breath and breathing, life just sort of happens without my conscious involvement—which is most often the case for me. I can’t say that anything mystical or magical happens if and when I’m alert to my breathing—connected. But, when stressed, if I focus on my breath and pray, (contemplate the Infinite, if you will), then I am calmed, eventually, and able to be more present and rational, or in control of much of my actions and words.

 

My breath becomes my “still point” (anchor), from which I can move out into the world around me, regardless of events (or chaos) within it.

 

January 30, 2021

 

#74  Caught in the Idea of a Self

 

This idea of no-self (integrating self and non-self) has been a focus of mine, off and on. I don’t know where it will lead me, or how far I am along a path to understanding or embracing such an idea. So far, I have learned (?) that we are all inter-related and not separate from any thing or anyone—even if our experience and sense of self-identity suggest otherwise….

 

What I do know matters is learning to connect fully to this “life.” I can only do this through breath, and intent. We’ve been calling this “mindfulness.” I think (it’s my guess, mind you) that the Buddha (and all his progeny), Jesus and others, are fundamentally striving to explain this very simple idea—living a complete, whole life, connected to reality as it is, not as ego manufactures it to be through stories to convince the self of it being a hero of its story. I’m probably off base on this… But, I’ll keep breathing to find out.

 

—Michel Deforge

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#46  Deep Listening and Loving Speech

 

Deep listening and loving speech are wonderful instruments to help us arrive at the kind of understanding we all need as a basis for appropriate action. You listen deeply for only one purpose—to allow the other person to empty his or her heart. This is already an act of relieving suffering. To stop any suffering, no matter how small, is a great action of peace. The path to end suffering depends on your understanding and your capacity to act without causing harm or further suffering. This is acting with compassion, your best protection.

 

I wanted to write out TNH’s piece on this, because my thoughts follow his thought, but his are integral to mine. I keep trying to articulate what I mean when I say that relationships/understanding/connection are what give life meaning to me. But without going deeper, those words don’t mean much. Or else they mean too much!

 

Thich Nhat Hanh opens it up for me, with Deep Listening and Loving Speech. Before relationship, understanding and connection can happen, I must listen deeply, intently, slowly, and respond by speaking with love. My life is at its fullest, its richest, when I am listening so deeply to someone that they feel loved enough to open their heart. Listening to someone who is normally unheard, derided, discounted, debased—a prison inmate; an unwed, pregnant mom; a vet with PTSD; an angry teenager; a woman living on the edge in Meridian, Mississippi; an Hispanic worker trying to learn English…all those who are suffering in whichever myriad ways one suffers.

 

A corollary to deep listening and loving speech is—time. Deep listening and deep response that lead to understanding, relationship and connection requires years to achieve. I have always said I give everything ten years—ten years for my stepchildren to love me, my wisteria to bloom, my body to shed 5 pounds. I am patient. After ten years, I re-evaluate and might give it (whatever “it” is) another ten years. In relationships time is important. Trust doesn’t happen immediately. One who is suffering has built up sturdy walls of protection, and only time, deep listening and loving speech can build trust and break down walls. And when those walls come down, oh man! the richness that pours forth is a gift—the gift of life, and relief from suffering, the gift of peace and joy. All those things for both the person suffering and for me.

 

—Jude Russell

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I once lived in a small cabin and wrote small poems. Here are some of them:

 

a bowl of oatmeal

and a cup of coffee

did you think heaven was up in the sky somewhere?

 

let go of thought

and see what happens

 

all these people walking around 

imagining that the ideas in their heads

make them different from each other

 

sitting here

with a cup of green tea

I forget what it was

that I was so worried about

 

do you imagine

there is some other day?

 

the things we think we know

are the stones of the prison

in which we live

 

say “I am”

and leave it at that

 

when you see how simple it is to be happy

you’ll kick yourself

for spending so much time being miserable

 

what Reason has rent asunder

the Heart will make whole

 

everything I touch

touches me

 

—Johnny Stallings

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Meditation, it seems to me, is like detox for the mind.  Similar to the way our bodies need detoxing when we’ve indulged in too much for too long, our minds can become saturated with noise to the point where an intervention is required.  The remedy is the same for both the body and the mind: let go of the indulgence.  Quit drinking.  Quit thinking.  Keep still.  

 

The uncluttered awareness of the meditative mind reconnects us with the elemental beauty of life.  Clarity returns.  The painful sense of isolation diminishes.   How can we not feel gratitude for such an exquisite and accessible way to restore ourselves?

 

—Bill Faricy

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#45  The Bridge

 

Breath is the bridge to life; in sleep or awake, we cross the bridge always. We also share and build bridges with others by breathing in their love, dreams, needs and respect. Breaths & Bridges are more than air.

 

—Rocky Hutchinson