Run, Walk, Hiccough - Just Move (or Twitch): It's the Mudivator!

Universe, forgive me, for I have no wind...It has been 75 days since my last blog post...

Do you see this photo? That's me, being eaten alive by the Mudivator.

Have you heard of the Mudivator? The Mudivator is the antithesis of the Motivator. It doesn't propel or encourage you, it eats you alive, sucking away any desire you have to support your own creativity. It's a slimy, sludgy thing. It does things like cause you to sit on the couch and watch five straight hours of repeats of the first season of Sister Wives, all the while eating Twizzlers and Junior Mints - candy that you don't even like. But it's there! And you must indulge - in both the t.v. and the confections. And do you know why? Because the Mudivator has you in its grasp, the dirty scoundrel! It wants to keep you from doing anything that might be healthy for your body, mind, or soul.

You might be thinking thoughts like, "It's New Year's day. I'm going to start fresh: eat right, meditate, indulge my creativity." But it doesn't matter once the Mudivator pulls you down and pulls you in. Even if you had a great first half of the day - you walked, you had time with friends, you ate relatively healthy, read an article on spirituality - you are not immune.

The first step is the hardest: admit you are powerless over the Mudivator. Once it touches you, you're gone, sistah!

You have to believe there is a power greater than yourself who can restore you to creativity. It might be a simple phone call with a friend who casually says, "I see you haven't written on your blog in awhile."

Next, you have to become willing to sit down at your computer and just write...ANYTHING! No editing. Uh, uh. Just type!

So here I am. Just typing.

Now, my dear friend Jill Badonsky created a muse called Lull. Lull is a muse who is there to help inspire by letting us rest and relax. She is not a big "do-er" - and we all know, us creative go-go-go'ers need down time to rev up and to rejuice. And I have definitely needed some Lull. But the thing is, I have been creating the past few months for others. Well, for me too - yes. But I haven't taken the time to tap into my own creative well, just for me. I need a Lull from creating for others, but I need a Marge (another muse - the "Okidokee, let's get started then" muse) to help me create for me.

I use the excuse of "comfort" - but when it's an excuse, that is when my vulnerability factor (a.k.a. laziness, which is different than Lull) sets in and I make room for the MUDIVATOR! So I find myself languishing on a couch, unmotivated and UNcomfortable.

Thanks to the phone call and the willingness to JUST WRITE! I am starting to feel motivated and, in the process, feeling the freedom of the Mudivator's grasp.

"I'm gonna wash that Mud right out of my hair..." - I'm feeeling more creative already!

Stopping to Smell the Oatmeal

This food is a gift of the earth, the sky, numerous living beings and much hard work.
May we eat with mindfulness and gratitude so as to be worthy to receive it.

May we recognize and transform our unwholesome mental formations, especially our greed, and learn to eat with moderation.
May we keep our compassion alive by eating in such a way that we reduce the suffering of living beings, preserve our planet and reverse the process of global warming.
We accept this food so that we may nurture our brotherhood and sisterhood, strengthen our sangha and nourish our ideal of serving all beings.

~ Eating Meditation, Deerpark Monastery

This morning I made a bowl of oatmeal. I added banana and apple slices, a few almonds and walnuts as well as a few dried cranberries. I lit some candles, took out a cloth napkin, and read aloud the Eating Meditation above. Slowly and deliberately I ate my breakfast in silence.

I tasted the sweetness of the oatmeal and banana. My teeth and tongue felt the softness of the banana and cereal, as well as the crunchiness of the apple, the nuttiness of the walnuts and almonds, and the chewiness of the cranberries.

It took me twenty minutes to eat the whole bowl. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. Except to be be present and mindful of my meal.

Breakfast was delicious and filling.

I attempted to eat at least one mindful meal a week when I returned from Deerpark Monastery this summer. However, I slacked off after two weeks and have only eaten mindfully maybe two or three times since. It was nice to take the time and engage in a mindful meal this morning.

I started thinking about how any mindful practice automatically seems to induce me to be more mindful in all areas. Following breakfast, I removed a big load of laundry from the dryer. I have been listening to Jack Kornfield's book After the Ecstasy, the Laundry on CD in my car (thanks to my friend, Joan, for passing that along to me). Having just returned from a trip to California which included the opportunity to hear HH the Dalai Lama, enjoy time with some of my oldest and dearest friends, as well as time off work, I would say it was a fairly "ecstatic" trip. Easy to be present, easy to tap into all that is good. At home, life resumes in regularity. Ordinariness.

As I folded my warm, clean clothes this morning, I realized how much I enjoy this simple, ordinary, "regular" chore....well, I enjoy it when I have time and choose not to think about it as a "chore."

As I folded my clothes, I thought about how nice it was to fold them, to take care of these things that are important to my daily life. How grateful I am to have clothes of my choosing, that I can afford, and that I have a washer and dryer in my home to help me keep them clean. I noticed the different patterns in my socks and my underwear (and thought what a funny breed we are to make such "necessities" such fun), I felt the contrast in the differing materials - jeans, T-shirts, bras.

The extraordinary in the ordinary. The beauty in the mundane.

And then my thoughts turned to my students.

Parent-Teacher Conferences begin tomorrow. Every student is different. Each have different needs, motivations, ideas, ways of learning and taking in information. Each come from different families, backgrounds, ways of looking at the world. So do their parents.

Sometimes I forget how extraordinary each of these people are. It's not that I don't see my students as individuals (or their parents), it's just that sometimes I get wrapped up in my needs and my ideas in the course of the day: Am I providing the best information? The right information? Am I teaching the class well? If so-and-so isn't paying attention, what happens to the class as a whole? Not that these are "bad" thoughts to have, it's just that I sometimes forget that each and every student has their own agenda, their own needs, their own own-ness (I am not sure what "own-ness" actually is, but I can't think of a better word right now).

Each student is an extraordinary being. So are each student's parents. In the course of an ordinary day, if I am not paying attention, I can miss that truth.

May I be present for each of my students and their parents. May I listen to each of them deeply. May I speak with only right speech; with attention, care, and compassion. May I share only that which is necessary, helpful, kind, and truthful.

May I stop and TRULY smell the oatmeal!

Becoming Comfortable with Impermanence (Kinda, Sort-of, More-So-Than-I-Used-To-Be)

One must accept the serenity of the winged life, of ebb and flow, of intermittency.
~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Buddhism acknowledges impermanence as a way of life. Old time members of Alcoholics Anonymous tout (and rely on) the slogan, "this, too, shall pass." Though I have intellectually understood the idea of change - and, of course, have experienced it for over 46 years - emotionally, at times, I have often fought against this idea with a vengeance: holding on to what I [think I] want, how I would like things to be - often leaving deeply embedded nail marks on people, places, things, and situations, as I have, to no avail, refused to let go.

Over the past couple of years, I have started to release my tight grasp, have begun to let go (or, at least, let be), of what I want or how I think things should be and have started to accept people, places, things, and situations as they are right now. Not always. Not in every moment and not in every situation. But definitely much more often.

This past summer and this new school year have given me the opportunity to practice flowing with impermanence on a very conscious level. First, I graduated in June, and while it has been a luxury to have some extra time and to have the pressure of assignments, papers, and deadlines removed, the loss of the intensity, the intellectual, emotional and spiritual challenges, and the loss (albeit, not completely, just daily) of a close community of people who share a common language and goals has left me feeling a bit hollowed.

I also let go of a relationship that I had been hanging onto two years too long. While I am aware that this is actually a positive change, it has been an adjustment.

This current school year has given me the chance to switch teaching hats. I moved from a full-time 6th grade teacher into the role of Drama teacher, where I spend my days teaching both sixth and twelfth grade students. I have missed having a contained classroom, and have struggled with the transition of teaching older students, who are in many instances, "set in their ways."

However, there have been some lovely moments through all of these changes as well. There is a kind of serenity within that I don't recall having before. I am more want to notice what I am feeling, as well as my responses to different people and situations, with an "Isn't that interesting?" perspective rather than a reactive one. I believe that all my years in AA coupled predominantly with my Naropa education and continuing journey in Buddhist practices are helping me to become much more mindful of who I am and what I am doing in the here and now.
Psychotherapist, writer, teacher and co-founding member of Spirit Rock Meditation Center, Sylvia Boorstein says:

Mindfulness is the aware, balanced acceptance of the present experience.
It isn't more complicated than that. It is opening to or receiving the present moment, pleasant or unpleasant, just as it is, without either clinging to it or rejecting it.

Maintaining my personal ritual practices (i.e. daily meditation, awareness walks with my dog, Love - albeit only about once a week now) since graduation has helped immensely to be sure. Shamatha, in particular, has been a very important component - I believe - in my ability to ebb and flow with daily impermanence, as well as with the "bigger" changes that have come my way.
Also, deepening my practice through the time I spent at Deerpark Monastery, continuing my Shambhala Training (I completed my Level 3 Training a few weeks ago and will be taking my Level 4 Training in November), and also beginning to meet with a monthly sangha meditation group have also helped to keep me balanced when life's winds seem to kick up and throw me a bit off course. I "take comfort" in my continuing practice.

My friend, Debbie, snapped the above photo outside a Starbucks store recently and sent it to my cell phone. It made me smile, as I received it while I was at work and the timing could not have been better. I had been ruminating about my classroom rituals. Last year they were such a meaningful part of my class work. This year, they seem to be practiced more along the lines of routine. I have been wondering if it was the way I introduced them....or if it is the way my students have seemed to only semi-embrace them...or perhaps there is something else that has led me to feeling that the rituals we are practicing don't feel sacred like they did in the past.

However, by simply continuing to practice them, I do take comfort in the rituals themselves. It reminds me of Mother Teresa and how she wrote in her diary and confided in her spiritual counselors that she had experienced the loss of her faith and yet she continued to perform service work and prayer. I am also reminded of my acting training where I was encouraged to be present and to "come from where you are" and at the same time, knowing when it is important to rely on technique.

And yet, I know - I really do know - that this, too, shall pass. My classroom rituals will have meaning again. Or perhaps I will let go of some and add anew. And maybe in being present for the fact that my classroom ritual practices feel a bit meaning-less, I can begin to understand what they might mean on a deeper level. I trust "that nothing is static or fixed," as Pema Chödrön reminds us:

Everything is in process. Everything—every tree, every blade of grass, all the animals, insects, human beings, buildings, the animate and the inanimate—is always changing, moment to moment.

And so it is.

Coming From Where I Am, Meeting People Where They Are

A dandelion never apologizes for itself. ~ Alexandra Shenpen

It's been a few weeks since I last wrote. My plan was to post consistently on this blog - at least once a week - to be delightfully disciplined in chronicling my thoughts, feelings, and experiences, post-thesis. However, as I currently sit at my computer I am thinking of the gentle 12-Step reminder to "plan the plans, not the outcome." And, per usual, the way most things happen in my life are not due to my arrangement of plans, but how I flow with the experiences.

Am I in "flow" now? Hmmm...somewhat. In some ways, I believe I am allowing myself to be and welcoming whatever is yet to come (this is actually an aspiration I created for myself just over a year ago when I left my second summer intensive at Naropa). I would chalk that up to my daily sitting practice, daily readings of all kinds of spiritual materials (books, articles, affirmations), and my willingness - more times than not - to pause and breathe before I allow myself to impulsively react.

That being said, the other "somewhat" here is that so often I feel exhausted. I am not sure if this is simply a part of my "coming down" process from the whole experience of going, going for two straight years: creating a new curriculum, teaching full-time +, attending to my own Masters studies and writing a thesis, or if there is something else going on, such as 105-113 degree days on end while adjusting to a new schedule/new mind-set at work (I am teaching two sections of sixth graders and three sections of twelfth graders drama, as opposed to teaching in a - mostly self-contained sixth grade classroom) this year. Or, perhaps, it's a combination of these things...or even something else (what that would be, I do not know).

So what I am saying is I don't feel quite like I am "joyfully exerting" myself. On the other hand, I am also enjoying my work and my students. I am experiencing paradox. I am hoping for a Parker Palmer insight to install itself into this paragraph. And I am also thinking that a little Pema-ism (as in, Chödrön) is in order here (i.e. "Start where you are.").

So here I am: feeling generous of spirit, wanting to joyfully exert myself, being more patient than usual (but still wanting it all "now" and "my way," don'tcha know), being semi-disciplined (sitting meditation, yes, everything else: here and there), and yet feeling lethargic, numb, and worn out.

I am also noticing my reactions in different situations. I read an article by Noah Levine (founding teacher of the Against the Stream Buddhist Meditation Society) in the September issue of Shambhala Sun where he uses the term "response-ability." That struck a chord in me. When I breathe, pause, and truly listen - to myself (my gut, my heart), and to others - my ability to respond comes from a place of compassion, from a wiser place than "my thinking is right" mind. I have noticed my internal response is reaction: defense sprung from fear. I have noticed when I wait, when I pause, when I remain truly present to the experience of self and others, my ability to respond with an open mind and heart is a much better - and even more practical - way to acknowledge and behave.

I gave my Department Head, Ed, at school two ten-minute plays that I was thinking about using with my Senior students for their semester performances. A few mornings ago Ed said to me in a very serious tone, "Nicky, I'd like to make some time to talk to you about those plays you are considering." Immediately I felt my defenses go up. "What's wrong with the plays?" I thought. "He thinks I make bad choices. He's sorry he thought I'd be a good choice for drama teacher." I walked around feeling agitated all day with these thoughts and feelings.

After school that day, I met with Ed. He told me he really enjoyed the pieces I gave him (though he said, I should cut the expletives and the reference to masturbation - which I was planning to do anyway). He said he just felt like it was his responsibility to let me know that we work in a very, very conservative community and he wanted to be my advocate and make sure I made choices (he said he would never tell me what I should and shouldn't do) that wouldn't cause me to have to deal with negative backlash.

Oh.

Thank you, Ed. And thank you, Universe, for another lesson learned. Pause. Listen.

I was so grateful for that dialogue. The next day I brought in one of the pieces for my students to read. One section had a completely negative response to the piece. One section was split, and the third found it humorous though they didn't quite get all the cultural/theatrical references. I decided to nix that piece. Though I want to challenge my students, I also want to meet them on their terms - where they are.

I have heard from several people who graduated the Naropa program the year before I did, that their year teaching post-graduation was a really difficult one...for a few different reasons. My friend, Joan, theorized that the difficulty may come from something that is actually a "good" thing: we are über-aware, and therefore, our sensitivity to everything is heightened. I have a feeling that I may have a somewhat-difficult year just from all that I noted at the beginning of this post. However, knowing that I can practice the paramitas of patience, generosity, discipline, meditation, joyful exertion, and prajna in order to ride the year with some grace (hopefully) and ease, allows me to believe that this year will unfold as it should and all will be well even with bumps along the way.

Do not fear the winds of adversity. Remember: A kite rises against the wind rather than with it.
~ Author Unknown

Each difficult moment has the potential to open my eyes and open my heart.
~ Myla Kabat-Zinn

I ask not for a lighter burden, but for broader shoulders.
~ Jewish Proverb

This is where I am. Today.

Happy to be here.

Spirituality Isn't Just Found on a Mountain Top...You Can Find it at Loews

There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophies. My brain and my heart are my temples; my philosophy is kindness. ~ Dalai Lama

Last week, while shopping at Soul Scape Gift & Bookstore in Encinitas, CA, I bought a stone slab with the above quote etched into it. It is now hanging on a wall in my livingroom.

My understanding of Buddhism is that God - a Higher Power, the Universe, the Divine - exists in the moment...in this moment. The Quakers say that the God in me sees the God in you. And Michael Levin who authored The Complete Idiot's Guide to Jewish Spirituality & Mysticism explains that spirituality is really all about striving to be the best person one can be. Compassion for self and all living beings, authentic connection with all sentient beings, ecology and the environment, feeling true joy and true sorrow and everything in between are all part of what it means to be spiritual.

After attending 12-Step programs for many a year, completing a two-year Masters program at Naropa University this past June, in the midst of taking Shambhala Training (I take my Level Three training next month), and most recently attended a five-day retreat at Deerpark Monastery, I am realizing more and more how each moment offers an opportunity for spiritual growth. How each moment offers me the chance to wake up.

I have studied acting for a major part of my life. Six very important components of acting are: 1) To stay present, 2) To connect to your breath, 3) To be aware - of self, others, space, and the world, 4) To develop compassion for self, others (including your the character you're playing), and the greater world, and 5) To be of service to the playwright, the director, one's fellow actors, and to the audience, 6) To cultivate joyful discipline of one's craft and whatever supports that.

These are the lessons I have found, too, in 12-Step programs, at Naropa, and in all that I have learned so far about Buddhism. Funny that I have to keep learning these lessons over and over. That I need constant reminders (little Mindfulness Bells going off daily). That when the student really is ready the teacher/teachings appear.

While at the retreat at Deerpark, I met a woman who had attended the retreat the previous year when Thich Nhat Hahn was at the Monastery. On our second-to-last day I asked her if she was enjoying the retreat this year as much as last. She replied, "No." Oh, I thought. Wow. "Can you describe why," I asked. She said, "It's just not as spiritual this year. It's fun and everything, but It's just not very spiritual."

Not spiritual?!

I thought everything about the retreat was spiritual. The land, the sky. The silence. The smiles and laughter. The meditation. The monks and nuns. The dharma talks and discussions. Mindful everything. The connections with others.

Hmm...I thought.

That evening, as we gathered for "Family Dinner" (eating just with our dharma discussion /service groups), the woman I had talked to didn't show up. I later heard from someone that she had eaten dinner with someone else. She also didn't attend the "Be In" (a celebration of performances) that evening, our final night at the retreat.

At first I judged her (I suppose, to be honest, I still do). I thought., "She's obviously missed the point. If she thinks spirituality can only be found in a Master Teacher, and can't feel/see that spirituality is right here. It's about being present and showing up." Hmph! (said, self-righteous little ol' me).

Upon a bit more reflection, I thought, "Well, this is that woman's path. She is probably right where she is supposed to be. It's not right of me to judge her on what she says and what she thinks. We don't have to share the same point of view. We had that discussion for a reason. Perhaps more will be revealed to me and to her."

Good thoughts. Though I didn't really buy into them. "Fake it 'til you make it," though (so I've been taught).

I remember when I first started going to 12-Step meetings. I was pretty much agnostic, had never really thought that much about God one way or another (except when I was about ten and read Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret and the main character said her parents had said, "God is a nice idea."). I was told that I needed to find a Higher Power - a power greater than myself.

First, under the guidance of my first sponsor, I used the group as a power greater than myself. Somewhere in my first year I felt the need to believe in "God," so I conjured up some old biblical idea of the man with the long white beard and the staff - a sort of Sistine Chapel-esque type of God. That kinda worked, but after awhile it seemed like a very narrow view of the Divine.

Over the years, my idea of God changed. I don't even know what God is anymore...the Universe? A Divine Force? Anything and everything? A feeling? A sense? God is a three-letter word and it easily rolls of my tongue, but I don't know what God really is. However, the idea of being present, open and alive in every moment makes sense to me. Being kind and compassionate makes sense to me. Having a sense, of curiosity, wonder and awe makes sense to me. Feeling every emotion fully makes sense to me. That is spirituality to me.

But it took me many years to fully come to this. And, so, who am I to judge the woman at the retreat and her path?

Yesterday I went to Loews to purchase some cinder blocks for some bookshelves I was constructing for my apartment. I got one of those big dollys and bought 12 cinder blocks. Though it really took a lot of upper-body strength for me to push that dolly, when the cashier asked me if I needed help, I declined. It actually felt really good to "joyfully exert" myself physically.

However, when I got to my car, an elderly gentleman in a pick-up truck made a U-turn and parked himself right next to my car. His window was open and he said, "I'm going to help you with that."

"Oh, no. That's okay. Thank you," I said.

"No, no," said the man getting out of his truck. "I'm going to do that."

I watched as this man carefully arranged each cinder block into my trunk.

"What's your name?," I asked.

"Paul."

"Hi, Paul," I extended my hand. "I'm Nicky."

"Nice to meet you," he said.

"Nice to meet you," I said. "Thank you so much for your help. That was really great."

"You're welcome," he told me. "Have a nice life."

"You too," I said.

I watched him drive off in his truck. A simple encounter. An act of kindness. That man and I will probably never meet again. But for a few minutes we had a connection. Paul's act of kindness set the stage for the rest of my day. Reminding me to be kind, to smile, to be of help if needed.

No mountain top or Master Teacher required. Kindness - spirituality - can be found in the parking lot of your neighborhood Loews.

Breathing and Smiling

After a five-day retreat at Deerpark Monastery (http://www.deerparkmonastery.org/) I am enjoying some Buddha-spaciousness. I am grateful for my time at the Monastery, to all the monks, nuns, and the entire community at the retreat. I am breathing. I am smiling. I am enjoying the moment and looking forward to what is yet to come.

Jump Start

Tradition simply means that we need to end what began well and continue what is worth continuing. ~ Jose Bergamin

Pursue some path, however narrow and crooked, in which you can walk with love and reverence. ~ Henry David Thoreau

Understand that the right to choose your own path is a sacred privilege. Use it. Dwell in possibility. ~ Oprah Winfrey

Here I go...