Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue

 

September 15, 2020

 

Welcome to our first meditation and mindfulness dialogue! The numbers below refer to passages from the book Your True Home by Thich Nhat Hanh. (JS)

 

#159  A Healing Mantra

Although I myself am locked within walls & a structure of rules, the cosmos still sustains me and it still nourishes me. I am isolated yet I feel no alienation from the world. I cannot touch a tree or a cloud, but yet I still feel them. I know they are there for me just outside the walls. For now, my friends & my family are the light of the sun, and the door of my heart is filled with love, light & sun from theirs. Being stripped to the simplest form of oneself will allow you to be filled full of all the beauty that the cosmos has to offer. Empty yourself to be filled with the wonders of life.

—Rocky Hutchinson

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#49 – What is a leaf?

Is one of my favorites! In segregation we have paintings that are of different scenes. At first it was cool, then I and others got over it. But since putting this wisdom of Thich Nhat Hanh in perspective you see more than a painting. For it opens my eyes to the time, the painter, the painter’s years of art skills, everything down to what makes paint…paint. There are so many miracles that came together to make these paintings! It’s amazing. Now I try to be mindful of what miracles come into place to make people I meet, foods I eat. Being conscious of what had to come together to create your best friend or your favorite food gives you much more appreciation for how they come to be in your life.

Thank you for giving me a chance, Johnny. I’m really working on myself. My goal is day by day. (Today be less ego-oriented.) Trying to not care who judges me for being me. Because that’s not my problem, I am happy and peaceful. It’s been a sacrifice, but as I’m learning sacrifice is the way to a peaceful life!

Peace Love Happiness

—Jake Green

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Originally, I had no intention of sharing this, as it was written by inspiration to myself as though it were a summation of what I see as the core of my soul, for lack of better words, and also like a mantra and daily meditation. Here it is:

 

I am the good man.

I am the good decisions that I make.

I am compassion, I do not fake.

I am kindness, I am love.

I am by choice, not by chance.

I am intent, not happenstance.

I am in servitude of good.

I am alive and I am living.

I am grateful I am.

 

—Joseph Opyd

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#6  Concentration

Concentration is an interesting concept in prison—Why should I want to concentrate on my situation being what it is? But as I’ve grown spiritually, I’ve come to realize how useful concentration can be. 

There is a lot to complain about in life, but there is also a lot to enjoy! Concentration, or focusing on what I think as I’m thinking it, and what I feel as I’m feeling it, has taught me that my life is richer if I concentrate on the “good” and the “bad”—accepting both for what they are and their role in my life. The passage in the book (#6) talks of the power of concentration in creating happiness at any time. I do think this is important, however the more useful aspect of concentration for me is being able to be fully—(or as close as I can come for now)—aware of the situations that I find myself in, and what ripples I make in that environment. Concentration, or mindfulness, has also helped me embrace the “bad” parts of life. By being mindful of the roots of my reactions and feelings when a “bad” thing happens I have learned to cope, embrace and/or overcome these situations, while gaining a little more skill in mindfulness.

My point is that by being mindful I have learned that there is value in all situations. While I suffer I learn, while I’m happy I learn. Mindfulness is our tool to dig through the layers of our minds and be really truly in the moment, allowing us to remove reaction and embrace each event for what it is truly worth, “good,” or “bad.”

—Cody Dalton

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I find myself, my soul, my beliefs and my being saturated in belonging—belonging to a love so deep, so real, so unreal. Coming from a life of nothing and going to a life full of love I never knew I could be a part of. A love that I knew was there, there for others, but for me…well, it was only window shopping.

Now I long to be drenched in the core of my soul, always and forever drowning in this love, this love that has pierced my cosmic veil. This love for all, for beauty, for the ones who opened so many doors into and onto the mind, heart and truth that dwells within my being.

 

#191  Love is Understanding

When we do not understand things we fear them. There was a time for myself, and not too long ago, when I was fearful of myself. Fearful of who I used to be, and fearful of the things I had done. Fearful of what I was capable of. I did not fully understand myself, because I was hiding from myself. When I opened up and allowed someone in, someone who is truly there for me—only then did I have the strength to face myself and understand why I did what I did, who I am, and who I was. Only then did I find the compassion to forgive my demons, and leave them, and forgive myself. Love is understanding not just our own faults, but the faults of others—loving them and loving ourselves.

—Rocky Hutchinson

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#4  Ambassador of the Cosmos

I love Thich Nhat Hanh’s word “interbeing” and what it suggests to my imagination—the interdependence and interconnectedness of everyone and everything! In this passage he doesn’t use the word, but he describes how when he looks deeply into a piece of bread, he sees the sunshine, the rain and the earth without which there would be no bread. Some people imagine that they are somehow “independent,” but with every breath we take, oxygen revitalizes our blood, and we exhale carbon dioxide which nourishes the trees, which produce oxygen… I’m glad I get to be part of this whole miraculous process that has no beginning or end.

—Johnny Stallings

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What is it that you really know? Not just what you have been told or what you think or have read or surmise but something that you deeply know. And how is that different from the other kind of knowing where you think it or have heard it? I think starting with what your base understanding is one of the most crucial steps in meditation. Knowing your own inner ground….and what you don’t know. Write it down. And maybe a few months or years from now you can come back to it and see if anything has changed.

 

What Do I Know?

 

Closing my eyes,

a silent darkness,

light

at the edges.

My breath moves

up and down, 

holding each moment,

inhalation

then release.

The human heart

is quixotic,

malleable,

almost like a berry

in the palm of my hand.

In my ears,

a deeper space

that stretches out,

a disappearing

reverberation.

We touch nothingness.

 

—Deborah Buchanan, from Layers of Sediment

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When I invited people who don’t live in prison to be part of our new meditation and mindfulness community, I included Jake Green’s meditations on “What is a Leaf?” Scott Teitsworth was reminded by Jake’s “sweet words” of a passage from a book he edited by his guru, Nitya Chaitanya Yati. (JS)

Even when you do something as simple as sip a cup of coffee or tea, think about what you are doing. Your morning tea begins in some far-off land, where very poor people get up at four o’clock. They crowd onto a battered bus, then walk to the plantation where ripe leaves are waiting to cut into their fingers. Leeches climb on them to drink their blood. All day long they fill their baskets, then they go home to a meager supper. The tea leaves are hauled to huge mills employing hundreds of people, where they are cleaned, dried, and made into the kind of blend you want. Then it is put in tins or boxes, and sent by truck down the mountains and out to the coast. The shipyard is filled with more poor laborers, who load the tea onboard ships. Then across the ocean it comes to your port.The distributors parcel and package it and send it to your local market, where you buy it and take it home. Thus the whole world participates in one cup of tea. If you like sugar with your tea, there is another world of production and distribution behind that spoonful of white grains you tip into the cup. So should you not look into the numinous aspect of just a cup of tea?

If you become sensitive to the numinous aspect of life, gratitude will naturally fill your whole being. Each time you put a morsel of food in your mouth or sip your tea or coffee, you will become so grateful to the corporate life of mankind for giving you so much for so little effort. You will see nothing but the unity underlying the many forms of the world. Great will be your joy to share, to give, to receive. Then you won’t fight. The belligerency comes in where you see only your own personal interests—“my home,” “my family,” or just“my self.” The superficial form of your self interest should be subsumed in the ocean of the general interest, and you should feel the world is your country, your home. That humanity is your family, filled with your brothers and sisters.

The Guru* wants us to really feel this: to stand united, to find peace and become peacemakers. We have to first be peacemakers in our own lives. We bring peace to ourselves. By putting all the peaces together, we make peace with the world.If you fragment it, you lose it. So let us gather all the peaces together in one meaning, in one divine thread of love and compassion and understanding.

 

—from That Alone: The Core of Wisdom by Nitya Chaitanya Yati pp. 140-141

*Narayana Guru (1856-1928). This book is a long commentary inspired by a philosophical poem by Narayana Guru, Ātmopadeśa Shatakam.

—Scott Teitsworth

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#7   Why we suffer

Thich Nhat Hanh reminds me that all things change, and I will suffer if I refuse this truth, like a stone in the river trying to stop water’s journey, I will be rolled and all my rough edges worn away. When he speaks of the river, I remember a time we went to a back channel and wandered along in a canoe, and I entered a kind of trance of well-being as the river flowed and sunlight splashed everything alive. When I suffer sometimes, when I wake at night and remember my failures, I go back to the river in my mind, and try to see it for what it is:

 

Call me the scruffy hermit of willow islands.

Call me the skipping stone eager to squander all

for a few joyful episodes of buoyancy. I could be

counting money? I could be a hero of fame?

Call me one lost to water’s wonders, far gone

down a back channel gaping at water beads

dripping brilliant from the paddle’s blade. 

 

—Kim Stafford

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I look through my study cards. Today’s contemplation is “Observation of the Mind.” Do I have solid mindfulness established, or is my mind more of the scattered quality? To what degree are desire/lust, anger, and confusion present or absent in my mind? This is not about judgement; as humans, we spend so much time with these mental qualities that we might as well use them as meditation tools. This is more like a checklist, is a quality present or absent? The card reminds me: all mental contents arise and pass away. Can I observe that right now? Can I see that my thoughts now are different than my thoughts 10 minutes ago? Bonus points if I can train myself to have some awareness of others, that other people also have rapidly changing mental qualities. “Your True Home” (YTH) speaks about this exercise at item 120, “Mindfulness of the Mind.” Another exercise I can do with my mind, and its contents, is to ask if current thoughts are beneficial to my wellbeing and the wellbeing of those around me, or if they detract from wellbeing. Again, this is not about judgement or criticism, it is about taking inventory of the mind. Flipping through YTH, I find this in item 47.

—Shad Alexander

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Spaciousness

It is 4:45 am. A small glimmer of light in the eastern sky, but a mass of stars still predominates in the dome above. My favorite time of the day: mornnight. My mind is rested and fresh, still empty.

I have two and a half days of precious spaciousness. My husband is away for a couple days of bike riding while I had planned to go away camping with women friends. My outing was cancelled because of high winds, falling trees and fire danger. David said, “Oh well, I won’t go if you’re going to be here alone.” I said, with a duplicitous smile, “Oh no, you go ahead. You don’t want to disappoint your friends by not showing up. I’ll be fine.”

Don’t get me wrong; I love my husband, but he should know, after 36 years, that I treasure these infrequent, but cherished times of aloneness. And this one is serendipitous spaciousness. I am never lonely being alone. I am filled with empty spaciousness. The house feels bigger. It is breathing and expanding, and I breathe and expand, in tandem, like singing a harmonious duet.

Duet. Round: In my family we played duets on the piano and sang rounds. “Go to Joan Glover and tell her I love her, and by the light of the moon I will come to her.” Repeat one bar after the first has been sung. Etc. And, “Orléans, Beaugency, Notre-Dame de Cléry, Vendôme, Vendôme…”  Sung as a round, it sounds like cathedral bells tolling throughout the city. We sang dozens of rounds.

Spaciousness allows my mind to remember things like this. My mind can rest or wander; either way, it awakens refreshed, mindful.

—Jude Russell

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Reading some passages in Your True Home, I was again impressed with how beautifully Thich Nhat Hanh expresses complex Buddhist concepts in clear, easy to understand language. One of these concepts that touched me this morning was #9: I Have Arrived. So much of our lives are concerned with striving–we want to learn things, we want to get better at things, we want to excel, we want to create. And this striving is wonderful: it has produced our art, science, architecture, literature, airplanes, medicine…our civilization, the civilizations that came before us and those that will come after us. But the most important thing about life–greater than any discovery, creation, or attainment– is the simple fact that we are alive. When we’re in great danger, or facing a serious illness, we often remember that nothing is more important than protecting our precious life. But the practice of meditation is taking time to appreciate this fact without the stimulus of danger. If we open our eyes and ears we can remember how fantastic it is, how precious, how exciting, how beautiful, how crazy it is that we are here. We have arrived. We are not only alive but we can be aware of our life and we can appreciate our life. Meditation practice is taking time to appreciate this amazing fact. 

—Howard Thoresen

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I’ve tried to learn meditation a few different times and I’ve never succeeded. My self-discipline is spotty, my posture’s always off, and I forget the proper hand positions. My body gets uncomfortable and my brain rebels against meditating. My thoughts increase instead of quieting down. Plus, I’m not a very Buddhist-like person, thanks to my intemperate ways. I gave up trying to meditate years ago.  

After giving up, though, a funny thing started happening. I noticed that my mind would sometimes quiet down on its own, without much effort from me. When I’m outside I get absorbed by the awesome fullness of life. When I sit in my house and pay attention I feel content with my heartbeat and the peace in my local airspace. When I let my thinking and my judgements be calm the outer and inner worlds do just fine. This balance doesn’t last indefinitely; there are things to do—groceries, e-mails, etc. But I can return pretty easily to what Alan Watts calls “sitting quietly, doing nothing.”  I’ll leave the meditating to the pros. I’m simply grateful for the moment, and being part of it, and having people to share it with.

—Bill Faricy

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78  The Wounded Child

I was planning on writing about another part of the book, but I read this, this morning, and it kind of hit me like I needed to write about this instead.

I guess a good question is: what is the child inside of us? I suppose it is part of us, the child that is, just because we grow into adulthood we don’t necessarily leave that child behind—he or she comes with us. I believe children are more susceptible, at a young age, especially to trauma. I think a traumatic experience as a child can have more of an effect than experiencing that same trauma at an older age.

I sometimes struggle with a lack of self worth, and have some insecurities. I am sure most people do, and maybe being in prison just heightens them. For instance, sometimes I struggle to even call my family. I will convince myself that they don’t want to hear from me and they have better things to do than talking to me.

I have recently reconnected with a girlfriend from my past. Talking to her has been great, but when she says, “I love you,” in my mind I say that doesn’t make sense. I have made so many mistakes. Am I worthy of Love? I feel I have worked very hard these last fourteen years to become a better human being. I try to be kind and compassionate to others. Is that enough? I don’t have much else. What if I screw up again? I think maybe that is the child inside of me that is scared.

I think in these moments of insecurity if we are able to recognize the source, and why we are feeling this way, we can begin to heal them. I realize I have done some amazing things with my time in prison. I have met some amazing people along the way that have taught me so much about life and its true meaning. I am not angry anymore and have become a very patient, understanding person. Maybe sometimes too patient—it may take me a couple days to answer someone’s  question sometimes. I want to make sure I understand what they are asking before I answer though. Geez! I do truly believe that all humans are worthy of being loved, so I guess that includes myself. Dang it! I know the best thing I can do for myself is continue to live a healthy clean life, love others, and surround myself with like-minded people—and when she answers my call, enjoy it for all it’s worth in the here and now. My hope is that someday I will be a successful productive member of society, and when that child inside comes calling I can reassure him that we have the tools to live a healthy life, and everything is going to be okay.

—Aaron Gilbert

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Your True Home: It is in the now, the breath, the fully aware moment. I can’t add to or take away from it. And, if I hold on to it, I get stuck because new “now” moments have begun piling up behind this one. If I touch it, let it go—not holding on to anything—then I can flow from one now to the next, feeling everything.  I see a connection to Kristen’s topic of “Contentment.” When I can be content with life as it is, instead of wasting energy with how it was, I have one less roadblock to the “now” moment.” When I can allow my guard down, for myself at least (if not for others), I can enter that moment to begin the experience as it is. Then I can breathe and allow each “now” moment to come and go as they wish.

In spite of all this “now” mindfulness, “in the moment” talk is that I can’t, (won’t or don’t), just let go of ego, barriers, worries past and present, judgements, etc. Well, not for as long as I think, or tell myself I should. I tell myself that I “want” to do this. I attend the Zen practice sessions so I can practice being more skilled at this—sometimes I even succeed at something, which leads me back to all that I judge. (Thanks, Jake.) I “need” to let go. Once in a while, I do somehow, more by happy accident than skillful action, manage to set everything down, breathe, and contentedly exist. The more often I struggle with this, the more often I manage to stumble into aware, conscious breathing, where thoughts come and go without my bidding, or following another white rabbit. Someday, I want to arrive at my True Home.

Even this work is plagued by ego, self-aware judgement, criticism, worry about the opinions of others—that I don’t somehow measure up to some arbitrary standard. (All of this is more in my head than in reality.) It all comes from awareness that I am no expert, guru, or skilled practitioner of mindfulness, but find myself at the beginning. Always At The Beginning!!—just like everyone else: breathing, just breathing, being gentle and kind when I see I have followed another wild hare off into some dark forest and away from my thoughtful breath.

—Michel Deforge

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This is one of my favorite guided meditations from Thich Nhat Hanh. 

It begins with his signature meditation on being aware of our most basic source of life.

Take three deep breaths then breathing normally, gently, follow someone saying to you the following, or say to yourself: 

 

“Breathing in I am aware that I am breathing in.  Breathing out I am aware of breathing out.” 

In, out. . . . . in, out . . . . 

In, out. . . . . in, out . . . . 

In, out. . . . . in, out . . . . 

 

Breathing in, I see myself as a flower.

Breathing out, I feel fresh.

Flower/Fresh  (say this to yourself, for three in and out breaths)

 

Breathing in, I see myself as a mountain.

Breathing out, I feel solid.

Mountain/Solid

 

Breathing in, I see myself as a mountain lake.

Breathing out, I reflect things as they are.

Water/Reflecting

 

Breathing in, I see myself as the sky or space.

Breathing out, I feel free.

Space/Free.

 

Some of my reflections on this practice.

On being a flower:

When I sit and see myself as a plum blossom, I feel delicate and careful, I want to be aware of the subtle fragrance and the fresh air. I feel still and listen for the insects and the breeze in the tree.  

Later, when I want to thank someone, like my yoga teacher or a friend that brings a gift,  I remember feeling like a flower, and I will put my palms together and offer a “flower bud” of thanks. 

On being a mountain:

Moving from feeling like something delicate to feeling solid as a mountain, grounds me and I feel a strength,  and a knowing  that makes me feel more steady than any fleeting emotions. 

On being a mountain lake:

The water is still, we can reflect what is aroud us, like trees on the shore that are inverted but without distortion.  Such a sense of calm.  

On being the sky :

The feeling of spaciousness fills me with each breath.  Beyond judgement, I feel space in and out, and appreciate the space we need to give one another to be fully human and unique.

This simple meditation moves us through an expansive experience with just four images that are familiar to us all, because we are alive on this planet.  

There is a song that goes along with this meditation, that can help tune us up.   I will find a copy with the music and send it next time if you all are interested. 

I hope you will find some peace,  be well.  

A plum blossom to you,  Katie

(I wish I could send you some plums that are growing now on the plum tree)

—Katie Radditz

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Our dialogue begins. Thank you. We’re off to a good start! 

Today, on September 15th, I’m mailing this to just under a dozen people living in prison and emailing it to just under two dozen people who aren’t. It’s a conversation. Feel free to write and email me in response to something somebody shared. That will be the basis of the next letter, which will go out on October 15th. Also, between now and then, please send me your ruminations on passages from Your True Home or other poems or texts. Or just your thoughts. Or a poem.

May all people be happy.

May we live in peace and love.

 

—Johnny