photograph by Jerry Uelsmann (June 11, 1934 – April 4, 2022)

 

 

Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue

 

April 15, 2022

 

As the crickets’ soft autumn hum

        is to us

     so are we to the trees

        as are they

  to the rocks and the hills

 

—Gary Snyder

*

 

Meditation for Ukraine

 

When the war in Ukraine began, we couldn’t believe it. Then we had to, as an avalanche of headlines, numbers, and film clips came at us from all directions. The old ritual of violence had begun again so soon, so fierce, so inexplicable. All I could do, every morning, was to walk before dawn, then sit alone, ponder, and write. The poems in this book arose in the first 30 days for the fighting, as I tried to look at the obscene events in Russia and Ukraine from oblique angles—big picture, close encounter, root cause, and imagined outcome. 

 

We have been helped in this time by a Zoom group sponsored by Shambhala Online, which each day of the war has convened a hundred or so from around the world for the practice of tonglen meditation. Our custom has included Buddhists in the U.S., Canada, Britain, Holland, Poland, India, Japan, Ukraine, and beyond. We sit in silence for many long breaths, working to inhale suffering and grief, then exhale, as we can, compassion from the heart open wide. Following this practice, we ask Iryna and Sasha in Kyiv, Oleg in Odessa, Andriy in Lviv, and others inside the war how it is for them—days, nights, times of spring sun, and of darkness. “Now I have no fear, or no hope. I have only this time, today.” “I don’t watch the news, instead I go to the subway and see how little families each make a nest of their belongings.” “Humility comes to the front of your life. You see how artificial was life before.” 

 

—from the preface to Sunflower Seeds: Poems for Ukraine (www.lulu.com)

 

I have explored the “tonglen” practice of meditation in a poem:

 

      Trees Send Oxygen to Weary Citizens

 

Some Buddhists sit in silence to inhale sorrow,

grief, fear, and all the cloudy darkness of strife

into the infinite open heart, and there transform it

to an exhalation of light, of compassion, a new

chance for all sentient beings to be at peace. In

practice, in fact, how can this miracle be understood?

The last breath of every soldier flies on the wind 

over the rooftops of generals and their commanders

faster, more direct than roads or other human tricks

to far Siberia where in ravines and all along ridges

horizon by horizon, valley by valley, peak by peak

the waiting arms of pine, spruce, larch, and fir sip deep 

into their green needle tangle a feast of human exhalation 

to seethe, turn, and return pure oxygen for wind to freight 

around the world, passing all others, to the battlefield

where a girl wears her father’s coat, a boy says his 

mother’s name with breath made sacred by this war.

 

—Kim Stafford

*

 

If you would like to participate in daily meditations with people in Ukraine at 8 a.m. (PDT), here’s the link:

 

https://us06web.zoom.us/j/83817903514

 

*

 

Jude responds to meditation #11 from Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh:

 

#11  Aimlessness 

 

Buddhist teaching of aimlessness instructs us not to set an object or goal in front of us and run after it, believing that happiness is impossible unless and until we get it. We must do as the flower does: we must stop reaching for something.  The flower knows it contains everything within it and doesn’t try to become something else. 

 

This is another instance of word nuances: ‘goal’ and ‘objective’ have negative connotations in this case. They imply reaching for something, usually a material something, not being satisfied with life as is.

 

But what about the desire, the deep and intense desire, and need, to know and understand others not like you? The deeply felt purpose imbedded in that desire. The belief that knowing and understanding—connection— erases fear and mistrust and must lead to love. What if you call that a goal? Does that make it wrong? In my intense and life changing moment (still ongoing) of illumination in the mid 90s, I knew I must seek understanding of those not like me: I found a deep and long friendship with Skosh who had AIDS; I sat with him when he died. I taught at Jefferson High School with its 80-90% Black student body (and took kids to prom and planted gardens with parents); went on five Habitat for Humanity builds to Mississippi, South Carolina, West Virginia, Oklahoma, etc; mentored rough and tough teenagers for, now decades (and went to three Metallica concerts!). I befriended an Indian woman and her chaotic family (and sat with her daughter while she went through drug withdrawal) for sixteen years; worked in a family homeless shelter for three years; tutored and ‘adopted’ Hispanic adults (and made 200 tortillas with Maria), and up to current times, volunteered in our precious OHOM prison program. Among other things. Everything I have done has been with a part of my world that I had little or no knowledge or understanding of. 

 

I hesitate to mention all of this for fear of sounding as if I’m tooting my own horn; it is not that. It is that I have felt propelled to do this. It is the deep need to know and understand others not like me. It all comes from that experience of ‘illumination’ (at 2:05 pm on March 25, 1994) (more on that later).

 

Are these “goals?” Is this running after something and not being satisfied or happy until I’ve achieved it? I am happy—no, I am filled with joy when I am living with this desire, this ‘goal.’ It doesn’t feel wrong, but oh so right.

 

—Jude Russell

*

 

Here are some excerpts from Michel’s March meditation journal. The numbers refer to meditations from Thich Nhat Hanh’s book Your True Home:

 

March 3, 2022  –  #250  Touched By Her Light

 

This is a beautiful image. Just imagine it; living in a state of constant mindfulness, leading others, through contact, to grow in cultivation of his/her own mindfulness…to become ripples in the pond of human consciousness, spreading mindfulness to ever more people—like an anti-dis-ease, or wellspring of happiness, compassion and contentment with each one. Not only would that be something to behold, but it would be amazing to become part of as well.

 

Do we not already have this opportunity, and yet how many are touched by the “light” of my life? (Or, yours?) What does it take for any one of us to step up and embrace mindfulness fully, developing our light—let alone touching others’ lives with that light? I find it peculiar that all it takes for me (and you, too) is to sit down regularly and practice mindfulness—to sit and breathe deliberately. That’s it! I only need to want to take the time to sit for a while. Doing this alone can be extra challenging, lonely even. It’s funny how yesterday was about space, leading me to embrace aloneness, and here I am struggling to overcome loneliness in solitary practice—which is fundamentally still a solitary practice, even in a hall with 1,000 meditators at one sangha (fellowship/community). The union of conscious intent, even practicing in “solitude” within a sangha of any size, is the strength to overcome a sense of aloneness or loneliness.

 

I definitely am more consistent with a group—dedication to other until for self kicks in; and even more so with a personal plan as well. What do you do to get you to the cushion alone, or in sangha regularly?

 

March 10, 2022  –  #251  Many Wonders

 

This is so apropos for my last few days. I find it curious; when I don’t take even the time to exercise and/or contemplate/write here, it’s as if my experience of life becomes overwhelming to cope with. With the overwhelm comes a flood/flurry of other intensive emotional experiences, which mount challenge after challenge as the day grinds on…to…a halt. I can go no further…

 

Or, so I thought. Apparently, enough training, experience, or divine intervention reminded me to “just breathe!” As I continued to breathe, not giving in just yet, still plodding forward, one foot in front of the other, perpetually pressing on and striving to keep going—slowly, with help and kind words from others, things started turning back around…unexpectedly.

 

That is the point I believe Thây makes here: No matter how intense the experience of the self-induced suffering (it all is!) we can fall back on our past practice/training to carry us through. We can also reap benefit from just being open (through practice and training the mind) that we see and experience myriad wonders present in every moment—right there before our very eyes, we only need to be aware enough to look (to go looking for these “wonders.”)

 

It’s a matter of focal points—positive versus negative; wonders abounding everywhere, or suffering, pain and misery in each and every moment. I know where I wish I would focus and where I want to focus—I even do succeed occasionally as I desire, just not as often as I wish I did. But that’s just it. This is all about our personal power of choice. Each of us makes this choice—often unconsciously or passively.

 

Results are obvious. You achieve what you focus on and strive for, not what you aren’t paying attention to. So why don’t we choose better? Why don’t parents teach children that there is this option, and that choice is our great inheritance of life power? Why don’t we own what they didn’t know then, and teach/learn for ourselves (and others) now? All I have to do (and you can too!) is make my choice, then act on it. That’s it. There’s no magic pill, formula, incantation, or grotto. I need only grit to stick with the choice and do the “hard” work—(which isn’t actually hard at all, it’s just more illusions I created for myself). What’s your choice?

 

March 24, 2022  –  #256  Mind Creates Everything

 

Excitement rolled through the dorm building, to a crescendo, as each man anticipated the call to go down to get our feed. Dark clouds collecting at the edge of the valley, rolling out over the plains, building to a full frenzy thunder and lightning display. Just as quickly as the energy built, each was in his seat, eating a giant hero. Some chicken clubs—most, actually—and a few for pastrami. The rains fell, calming all sound with the coolness settling all around. One by one, each finished his meal, moving on to another area. Rains lifted, skies cleared, and all was quiet once again. Each man moaned in soft contentment of satisfaction, having eaten his fill.

 

Our minds got bored—all people. The mind craves the new, exciting, colorful, flashy, brilliant distractions, not silence within. Practicing mindfulness calms the mind’s desires for innovative and new stimuli. Through training, a mind learns calmness and peace.

 

TV commercials, live feeds, Twitter, Snapchat, instant access to…every thing. This feeds the chaos drive of the mind. It’s little wonder most people are starving psychically for stillness, calm and quiet. Few know this secret: It all starts with the mind—both the peace and the noise.

 

Through the mind’s power we can create stories about many things; about peace and harmony, beauty or chaos and disturbances, war and violence, etc. We have power, which many of us don’t know to use, but it’s there. All we need to do is practice mindfulness. With time, practicing leads to consistent behavior, leading to consistent peace within. What are you creating today?

 

Michel Deforge

*

 

Alex Tretbar wrote to me that he has begun meditating every morning. I like to encourage people who want to meditate, so I wrote some of my thoughts about meditation to him. I’m lazy. Instead of writing something new for this issue, I’m just going to copy and paste what I wrote to Alex:

 

Dear Alex

 

Thanks for your letter and poem. I’m happy to learn that you are meditating every morning. I’ve had a serious meditation practice for more than 50 years, so I’d like to share a few thoughts on the subject that I hope might be helpful to you.

 

The word “meditation” can mean a lot of different things. For many years, people considered it a kind of oddball thing that Buddhists were into. Many people tried meditating once or twice, found it difficult or frustrating and concluded that it was not for them. In more recent years, meditation & mindfulness—along with yoga—have become much more mainstream and normal. There are meditation apps that people have on their phones. Lots and lots of books about meditation and mindfulness. Health and mental health professionals now routinely recommend meditation and mindfulness for reducing stress and helping with various physical, mental and emotional problems.

 

Classical Japanese Zen is rigorous and practiced in monasteries by monks. The poet Gary Snyder lived in Japan for eight years. He practiced Zen at a monastery and did zazen (sitting meditation) a minimum of five hours a day.

 

There are kinder and gentler ways to practice meditation. Thich Nhat Hanh, for example, has a friendlier approach. He says you should enjoy it. If you’re not enjoying it, you’re doing it wrong.

 

A brief word on sitting meditation. The two essential things are: eyes open and back straight. When your eyes close or your posture slumps you tend to daydream and then fall asleep. This is not a bad thing. Like taking a nap, it’s restful.

 

Meditation is wakefulness. Attention. A mind quiet and alert.

 

Rather than thinking of it as a difficult activity, it might be good to think of meditation as “quiet time.” Peaceful time. A time set aside, when you don’t have to accomplish anything. In our culture achievement is at a premium and people who don’t meditate tend to think of it as wasting time. Walt Whitman said:

 

“I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.”

 

That’s the idea.

 

If you spend some quiet time every morning, over time your brain and mind and nervous system will gradually quiet down.

 

One of the things that you learn from meditation is that instead of seeing and feeling and experiencing the world directly, we learned early in life to see and experience and feel the world through a filter of thought and language. It’s like the difference between reading about Multnomah Falls, or looking at a postcard of Multnomah Falls, and actually standing if front of it and feeling the spray.

 

Meditation & mindfulness—that immediate kind of perception—can inspire poetic expression. All you have to do is find the right words to convey this experience to others. Simple.

 

In one of our earlier exchanges, you said that the problem for you with meditating, is that you would be sitting there and you’d have an idea, and you would want to write it down before it disappeared—and thus you would have to interrupt your meditation. This made me smile. The thing is: of course you can stop “meditating” in order to write. Writing is a form of meditation. Maybe silent sitting is one of the ways to invite poetic inspiration. Like opening a window, so that you can feel the breeze.

 

This problem, like most problems, is an imaginary one. First you imagined it, then you imagined that it was a “real” problem. A toothache is a real problem. The Buddhist view is that 99% of suffering is self-inflicted. (“Imaginary” problems are not necessarily less painful than “real” ones.) Meditation is the art of not making yourself miserable.

 

One of the paradoxes of meditation is that there is no goal. You sit in order to sit. Trying to get something—like peace, or enlightenment, or whatever—is just another way of making yourself miserable. It introduces time and a hypothetical future. There is no future, only this present moment.

 

Well, that’s enough for now about all that.

 

peace & love,

Johnny

*

 

“Whenever you meet a situation that awakens your compassion…

you can stop for a moment, breathe in any suffering you see,

and breathe out a sense of relief.”

 

—Pema Chödrön – Tonglen, the Path of Transformation

 

I have been attending a daily Buddhist meditation practice since the early days of the War against Ukraine. Hosted by a group in New York and a group in Ukraine, we gather on Zoom, to give support to those suffering from violence due to the  ongoing invasion.

 

The practice of Tonglen, an extension of Loving-Kindness meditation, is new to me. We begin with a check-in from sangha members in Ukraine. Iryna gives a hello and a weather report if the sun is shining, then a brief update about the latest destruction and pauses in bombing. She speaks in Ukrainian and her friend translates for us. Then others are asked to speak – Oleg in Odessa, Sasha and Ella in Kyiv, Andrei in Lviv, give personal stories from their homes. Seeing them in their zoom boxes, with their windows shaded, is a moving and transporting experience. These check-ins have been both heartrending and inspiring. Also comforting to know that they are alive, these brave humble people who we have come to care for and LOVE over these weeks of war. Sometimes these new friends are away on meditation retreat, or called to army duty, or helping to take care of the wounded or homeless. In Kyiv they are involved with reconstructing a building for those who have lost their homes or have been sheltering in the subways.   

 

Taking a moment to sit with awareness of our feelings, gathering stability and compassion, we go directly into a practice of transforming suffering into compassion.  Tonglen – in English called Sending and Taking, is new to me. The essence of it is to breathe in heaviness, sorrow, whatever images may be disturbing us, then breathe out peace, tenderness, lightness, liveliness.  Our minds may be overwhelmed by news, or anxiety, but our hearts have a bottomless well of love and compassion. 

 

The Practice closes with a Dedication of Merit sent out to all beings that may be  suffering. Then we unmute for an open discussion, questions, poems, or music. The chat box overflows with thanks and good wishes, resources are sent for compassion in action.   

 

Thirty minutes of raising compassion in a group dedicated to non-violence allows us to be supportive of one another in a volatile time. I’m sure the Ukrainians feel supportive, but I am much more aware of the support for myself. It has been a gift; an antidote to the images in the morning newspaper, to the enervating quality of nightly news commentary on the war that I have completely given up.

 

I had wondered if it would feel like a burden to begin my day up close in a war with strangers.  Rather it has been energizing, spiritually creative, and friendly. Here we are greeting one another each day, getting to know our Eastern neighbors with names and faces and stories. I grieve for the children, remembering our own war years and protests, “Where have all the children gone, long time ago?” I draw strength from my Polish ancestors, when I hear stories of the millions taking refuge in Poland’s homes. In Western Ukraine too, every person we heard from had people from Eastern towns staying in their apartment. 

 

Here at home, I recognize a Ukrainian accent in line at Goodwill. Hannah starts weeping when I hug her, so thankful to be listened to; her husband is Russian and supports Putin. Her parents meanwhile are terrified in Kyiv. Her own children are young.   

 

I feel grateful for our experience with you all through Open Hearts Open Minds dialogue and theater and Open Road discussions and readings and reflecting on Thich Nhat Hanh’s teachings. Being interactive, communicating!,  interbeing as Thay says, practicing a common aspiration for peace and happiness, has been helpful for not turning away from the suffering in war.

 

I muse over these words of Thich Nhat Hanh’s and think about how we might transform, in prison or in a state of fear or in a difficult time of despair over how to help.  

 

 The Buddha’s teaching is about viewing the world through the eyes of compassion. Thich Nhat Hanh taught deep listening and open communication with people on both sides of an issue. And taking action to relieve suffering, everyone’s suffering.

 

He said, “When you have compassion in your heart, you suffer much less, and you are in a situation to be and to do something to help others to suffer less. This is true. So to practice in such a way that brings compassion into your heart is very important. A person without compassion cannot be a happy person. And compassion is something that is possible only when you have understanding. Understanding brings compassion. Understanding is compassion itself.”  

 

Thank you, dear friends, for our ongoing communication, and open hearts.  May we be at peace.    

 

Love,    

Katie