No Regrets, Coyote

Someone reminded me recently of how much I love Joni Mitchell’s music, although I haven’t listened to it in a long time. The last few days, a line from one of her songs keeps singing in my soul – No regrets, Coyote. It seems a perfect reflection on this year as it comes to a close.

Coyote has a prominent place in Native American mythology, often portrayed as a trickster, causing mischief and chaos wherever he goes. But his tricks are not necessarily malicious. They can serve to reveal to us our own illusions, our own vanities, our own humanity. They can shine light into our dark corners, expose what is hidden, and clean out old pain and shame.

Coyote has little respect for tradition and order and limitations. He crosses the boundaries of possibility and politeness with equal disregard. He is a crazy wisdom teacher.

And he came to visit me this year. He exploded my heart wide open and left me there –  hurt, confused, embarrassed, disappointed.

And purified, liberated, laughing, wholly alive, free. 

For that is Coyote’s gift, if we choose to accept it, the freedom of being wholly alive.

So as this year draws its final breaths, I ask myself – What will I leave behind this year? What will I carry with me into the new year? And what will I start fresh?

I will leave behind the stories that I tell myself about the past. I will carry with me an open heart. And I will start fresh with a willingness to say yes.

No regrets, Coyote.

For all that has been, thanks. For all that will be, yes! ~Dag Hammarskjold

[Enjoy the song]

Tao Te Ching – Chapter 37

The chapter opens with the recurring theme of wu wei, or non-action.

Tao is ever without acting
Yet without not acting

Generally translated as “Tao does nothing yet nothing is left undone,” this concept causes much confusion when we interpret wu wei as static passivity. Rather, it is a dynamic energy of harmony with the basic order and nature of the universe.

Heroic actions are often manifestations of this energy. Ordinary people who do extraordinary things in a crisis sometimes describe what they did as happening without their thinking about it.

It can also manifest as creative inspiration, and yes, sometimes as stillness when action would be interfering with the natural order.

If princes and kings would abide by it
The ten thousand things will naturally develop or transform

The Tao Te Ching makes many references to ruling. These passages could apply to actual government, but can also be a self-referent, advising us on how to rule or govern ourselves. If we abide by the natural order of Tao, we are awakened as our true selves.

If there is still desire to act
One can return to the nameless simplicity of an uncarved block

Tao is without name. (“The name that can be named is not the eternal name.”) The uncarved block of wood is a perfect metaphor. In its natural simplicity there is unlimited potential, infinite possibilities. Once it is carved, it has a name, a purpose. It becomes this and not that.

Without desire there is tranquility
Everything below heaven is naturally at peace 

The link between desire and suffering is part of Buddhism’s Four Noble Truths. I can see this in my own life. When I struggle by wanting the present moment to be something other than it is, I suffer. I am not tranquil.

Think of the words we use to describe this – out of sync, off my game, not comfortable in my skin, not in tune, out of sorts, churned up. We instinctively know, whether we consciously recognize it, when we are not in harmony with Tao’s natural rhythm.

And when we return to harmony, there is a sigh of relief. Even if there is a lot happening around us, we are at peace inside.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. ~John 14:27

Life-omon

The 1950 Japanese film Rashomon is the story of a murder told from the perspective of four witnesses, each of whom tells a very different tale. As you watch the movie, you are caught up in each version, thinking “Oh, this is what really happened.” But then a new witness begins to speak, and you are thrown back into the anxiety and frustration of uncertainty.

This film was the origin for the term “Rashomon effect,” used to describe the subjective nature of perception. As Anais Nin said, “We don’t see things as they are; we see them as we are.” Most of us live our lives in the virtual reality of our thoughts, of the stories we tell ourselves – about ourselves and the world we live in and those who live in it with us.

When something happens, we immediately start telling ourselves a story about it. If what happened was confusing in some way, our stories seek to make sense of it so that we can find comfort in “knowing” what happened. The story often judges what happened as good or bad. Our stories generate feelings of desire or aversion, and are the basis of how we react to what happened. Our world becomes a closed loop of engaging with our own stories, stories that form our own “reality bubbles.”

Recently, some things have happened that have defied my attempts to explain and understand. Various stories swirl through my mind. Before one can really settle in, another one replaces it. I can’t seem to “catch” one and hold on to it. It’s like trying to control a room full of kittens on catnip. It has left me standing in the middle of the maelstrom as a befuddled witness, trying to pick out the “right” story.

Naturally, I prefer the stories that make me look good – the hero rather than the victim, the sage rather than the fool. I like the ones that make me feel transcendently serene rather than agitated and embarrassed. I reach for the ones that offer grand spiritual gifts rather than disappointment.

But here’s the thing – they are all just stories. What happens if I just let them all go?

Start with “I don’t know.” Why not just start where you’ll end up anyway? ~Adyashanti

Heart Dragons

“Here there be dragons.” So say the old maps to designate areas beyond the known world, where only the most bold or the most foolhardy dare venture.

Dragons live there. Dragons breathing fire. Fire, the element of the heart.

Hearts are by nature bold and foolhardy adventurers, and if freed from fear’s mooring, will sail straight into the uncharted sea of dragons, where the water turns to fire. Hearts, like dragon eggs, break open in the flames. And only then is their true magnificence revealed, hot and blinding as the sun, purifying our souls, and blessing all the world with their infinite love.

It isn’t always pleasant. It is not serene. It is sometimes brutal. We are stripped bare of our defenses, exposing our deepest vulnerability. But when we surrender the struggle, and offer our hearts to the dragon’s fiery breath, we find the true peace and power of awakening. We taste the full flavor of life, and find it...delicious.

It’s worth risking everything for.

Now I know I have a heart, because it’s breaking. ~Tin Man, The Wizard of Oz

Tao Te Ching – Chapter 36

My tai chi teacher is fond of saying, “If something goes up, something comes down.” This is how he explains the exchange of energy between yin and yang. If one is filling, the other is emptying. We draw in to manifest out. We yield to overcome force.

This chapter repeats a theme in the Tao Te Ching of the interdependence and creative energy of opposites.

If you want to receive 
You must first give
This is the mystery of enlightenment

The character for mystery describes the thin place between the emptiness of Tao and the manifestation of the ten thousand things, the liminal space between form and formlessness. At this point of intersection, the energy of what appears as two opposites swirls together, generating the creative power of the universe.

The “magic” of this creative power is nowhere more evident than in the realm of the heart. When we think in finite terms of limitation, it is obvious that if I give you something I have less. But in the heart realm, giving begins the dance of creation as the two sides join to give birth to more than themselves.

As Shakespeare’s Juliet observed to Romeo, “My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

This is not something to understand or analyze. We need only experience it to grasp its truth. Once, when I was so depleted of energy and joy in my life, when things seemed the hardest, and despair rode heavily on my shoulder, all I could think of was that I needed help.

Somehow, as counterintuitive as it seemed, I was led to enter a training program to help others. I couldn’t imagine how I could summon even the tiniest bit of openness or generosity in my heart, which felt so completely drained. And yet I drew strength and healing from giving what I didn’t even think I had, to others who were hurting.

Like my favorite commercial (click here to watch it) said, like magic...only real.

Once we have emptied ourselves of all that we think we know and are, we will find the hidden gem of our own Tao nature, deep within the cloud of our unknowing. ~Solala Towler

The Splendor of Defeat

No words can paint
The pastel shades of mist
Or sing the morning light
Soft dancing with the water
I stand silent
In the splendor of defeat

“You Know Nothing, Jon Snow”

Game of Thrones fans will recognize this line, spoken to Jon Snow repeatedly by the wildling woman he fell in love with, and who died in his arms with these words on her lips.

The universe has conspired lately to remind me that, like Jon Snow, everything I think I know ... I don’t. No matter where I turn – to family, to friends old and new, to martial arts, to life in general – I am confronted by my absolute ignorance of, well, everything. It is disorienting and decidedly uncomfortable. Sometimes scary. At the same time, it is intriguing, exciting, and occasionally even fun.

It is, spiritually speaking, where the action is. Outside of my comfort zone, on the razor’s edge. It is where I see most clearly, if I’m willing to look, my habitual patterns, my stories, my insecurities and fear. It is where I’m given the opportunity to experience the raw beauty and fierce grace of reality, to taste the nectar of truth, to be stripped of all my defenses and emerge pure and powerful. If only for a moment....

It sounds sublime, and it is, but it is also messy, like diving beneath the lotus blossom to its roots in the muck. The muck is where the flower grows. And so it is with us. When we embrace all life offers, excluding nothing, seeing the sacred in every moment, no matter what, then our true nature grows rooted in the depths of darkness to bloom brilliant in the light.

The following poem was written a couple of years ago to support a friend going through a hard time. But today, it speaks to me to give me courage to step into the mystery.

The ground beneath our feet
That we think strong
Is but an icy crust
Lightning cracks race
Pop and thunder
We dare not move
It matters not
We will fall through into our destiny
And remember once again
That what dies 
Was never real
And we are 
                    laughing
                                     free

I Know You Meant Well...

That’s what someone said to me recently after I had offered some advice that turned out to be not very helpful. At the time I offered it, I was quite sure it was very helpful, confident that I knew exactly what the person I was giving it to needed to do.

But much to my surprise (why should this still surprise me?!), I didn’t know as much as I thought. And I certainly did not know what was best for the person I was attempting to influence.

How did I stumble into this illusion of omniscience yet again? Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the person I was advising was one of my kids. And to make this clear, all of my kids are adults, old enough to chart their own course, old enough for me to know better than to step over the healthy boundary between parent and adult child.

While I’m moderately skilled at being a good listener and not trying to “fix” the issues that friends and other family members share with me, apparently with my kids, I need a few more practice sessions.

So thank you, my dear adult child, for being gentle and loving in reminding me to step back.

You know not their paths
It is not yours to know
Yours is to have faith
Only that

Creek Thunder

The creek thunders
With fresh vigor
After summer's drought
Belly bursting banks
Laughing full of autumn rain

The One in My Hand

You’ve probably figured out by now that I am a martial arts nerd. I love the art of combat. Considering that my favorite TV shows are Vikings and Game of Thrones, I suspect that in a former life, I was some sort of thug warrior...with a dragon.

Although not that skilled myself, I like hanging out with folks who are. One day, while engaged in lively conversation comparing various weapons, I asked one of my teachers what his favorite weapon was. Without hesitation he answered, “the one in my hand.” 

Oh

What an excellent martial arts lesson. Think Jackie Chan picking up a mop or a shovel or a pool cue and kicking some you know what. We might not always have our nunchuku tucked in our back pocket, or our sword hanging from our belt when the bad guys attack.

But more than that, what a brilliant life lesson. Whatever situation we are faced with, it’s no use wasting time wishing that circumstances were different. It is what it is, right then in the present moment. It is up to us to use what we have.

If, for example, I want to be happy, what good does it do me to think about some ideal situation? I’ll be happy when I’m on vacation, when I get a job, when I retire, when I have kids, when my kids move out, when I have a certain amount of money, when I have even more money, and so forth.

Or I want to awaken, and I know that if I meditate a particular way, read a certain number of books, attend the right workshops, attach myself to the best teacher, and chant my mantra, then surely I will achieve enlightenment someday and live in bliss forevermore. No, I will spend my life chasing illusion.

My teacher’s answer reminds me that all I have in my hand is now, this moment. It’s my favorite.

One who knows enough is enough will always have enough. ~Tao Te Ching

Tao Te Ching – Chapter 35

Music and fine food
Cause passing guests to stop

This timeless little chapter could have been written today instead of 2500 years ago. It is a reminder that what is of true and lasting value is often overlooked in the hubbub of a world seeking ever more loud and glittering distraction. A cultural mantra of “more, more, more” leaves us feeling less and less content.

Always searching for greater sensory stimulation obscures the subtle and natural rhythm and beauty of Tao.

It is without taste
Look – it cannot be seen
Listen – it cannot be heard

It is found not out there, but in here, in the silence of our souls. Recently I looked with a fresh eye at the area around my meditation cushion. It was cluttered with inspiring things to read, prayer beads, wisdom cards, essential oils, and more. By the time I went through all my preparation to meditate, I was already done and ready to move on with my day.

So I put everything away. Just a cushion on the floor. Just sit. Simple.

And amazingly, I found that it was enough.

Use it; it will never be depleted

Ducks at Play

As I walked across a bridge over a small river, I noticed some wild ducks below. They were gathered in a shallow, quiet eddy in the curve of a faster current. I paused to watch.

Pretty soon I noticed a pattern. A few ducks would move to the top of the curve and enter the fast current. The rapids would rush them around to the bottom of the curve where they would exit the current, returning to the calm shallows. Meanwhile, some other ducks entered the rapids at the top, quacking and flapping as they were swept to the bottom of the curve.

They moved in this circle, making their way to the top of the curve, entering the rapids for the rush to the bottom, waiting their turn to ride again.

What were they doing? They didn’t appear to be looking for food. I think they were just having a good time. The scene reminded me of a children’s playground, with a line of kids climbing up the ladder, laughing down the slide, and returning to the ladder to climb up and repeat.

Ducks at play. Simple pleasures.

It is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all. ~Laura Ingalls Wilder

Sitting in the Rain

I’m singing in the rain
Just singing in the rain
What a glorious feeling
I’m happy again
~lyrics by Arthur Freed

The rain came. Lots of it. A steady downpour. Too much even for intrepid all weather walkers like myself and the dog, at least when we’re at the cabin (we are sort of wimpy city walkers). But this last weekend at the cabin, we stayed in as the rain kept the day dark and the forest drenched. By Saturday afternoon, we needed some outside time. So I put a chair under the tiny covered area in front of the door, wrapped up in a blanket with Rosie bundled on my lap and...sat.

We sat and listened to all the rain sounds–drops splish splashing on the deck, tip tapping in the trees, roaring in the swollen creek. The air was fragrant with wet pine, and chilly but we were hunkered warm in our soft shelter. The golden maple leaves danced brightly in the misty shadows.

It was all so achingly beautiful, so exquisitely transcendent, like a shower cleansing my soul of anything that was not pure, perfect light. I cried in sheer, surrendered joy. My heart rained tears in sweet harmony with nature’s song.

I was sitting in the rain
Just sitting in the rain
What a glorious feeling...

Here is the view from my chair.

The Heart Listens

The heart listens
At the speed of light
Where time stands still
And thus has no need
Of memory

The heart hears 
Only truth
Which is beyond thought
And thus has no need
Of words

Everything You Need is Nothing

In pursuit of knowledge, every day something is acquired
In pursuit of Tao, every day something is released
~Tao Te Ching

We read or listen to the words of spiritual teachers. We takes notes. We study. We try to remember, hoping that the memory of words spoken or written in the past will somehow lead to awakening in the future.

And all the while we are ignoring the only possible time that awakening can happen – the present moment. And we are doing the opposite of what most teachers teach – to release. Instead we are trying our best to accumulate and retain information about a concept that we reach for as it dances just beyond our grasp.

It is never enough. We are never enough. If only I read one more book, listen to one more podcast, attend one more workshop, do more, try harder, be better....

I get that, as my shelves full of books attest. But just as you can’t learn to ride a bicycle from reading or talking about it, you will never be able to think your way to awakening. Because it isn’t a thought.

It is simply our natural state. It is who we are. Its eternal flame is obscured by our effort, by our thoughts, by our stories. But it shines on without regard for our determined quest to find it. The comparison is sometimes made to a fish in the ocean looking for water. But it is even more basic than that. It is like the ocean itself looking for water, unaware of its own nature.

We think it grand, but it is quite ordinary. It is not an escape from reality. Escaping is what we are trying to do as we search for it. It is reality, and when we finally exhaust ourselves and stop looking for it, it is revealed. We are revealed.

And what can we do then but laugh and go on with our day, our ordinary, marvelous, amazing day.

Before enlightenment, chop wood carry water
After enlightenment, chop wood carry water
~zen saying

Tao Te Ching – Chapter 34

This is a beautiful little chapter about the relationship between Tao and the ten thousand things. (The “ten thousand things” is a poetic name for the manifested universe.) It begins with another water image for Tao. As we have already seen, water is the most often used metaphor for the nature of Tao. 

Great Tao flows everywhere
The ten thousand things depend on it
It gives birth and rejects nothing 

The character for “flows” 氾  has a water radical on the left (those three little lines). The right side of the character means to spring forth, so there is a sense here of water welling up and overflowing, giving life and nourishment to all existence. Despite its infinite creative manifestations...

Tao never acts as ruler
Ever without desire it seems very small
Yet all things return home to Tao
So it is very great
Because it claims no greatness
It completes its work without self awareness
And thus is truly great

Although this last part does not expressly use the characters 无为 for wu wei or non-action, the concept of wu wei is present here. When we allow things to manifest and move according to their nature, Tao’s creative energy is expressed through us. These last three lines, in fact, are sometimes translated as referring to a wise person instead of Tao.

Have you ever been amazed at something you easily accomplished and wondered, “How did that happen?” Perhaps it seemed like you were just along for the ride while marvels unfolded. To me, that is what this chapter describes. When we surrender our own agenda and our own need for recognition, the true power of the universe moves all around us and through us. And miracles happen.

I am realistic – I expect miracles. ~Wayne Dyer

Hold My Hand

Hold my hand
Don't let me get lost
Lead me through the darkness
Carry me when I get tired
Keep me safe
Let me sleep in your arms
Till the warm light of home
Bathes my fuzzy eyes
And smiles me awake

The Season of Courage

[I'm reposting this article from last autumn. For those who have enjoyed the series on seasons, this will hopefully be a nice reminder.]

Autumn...the year's last, loveliest smile. ~William Cullen Bryant

I wrote recently about courage and also about surrender. These two concepts come together perfectly in the season of autumn, dancing with each other as the wind dances with falling leaves.

In Chinese medicine and qigong practice, there are certain associations made between the five major organ systems and five elements. These associations are expanded to include associations with emotions, energies, animals, colors, sounds...and seasons.

I thought you might enjoy knowing some of the associations of autumn. Let’s start with two of the things we most often think about when we think about this season. Harvest, a time of gathering the fruits of summer’s labor to store for winter. And leaves, turning color and falling from the trees. Now let’s see how these two aspects are reflected in the Chinese system of associations.

Organ

Autumn is associated with the lungs. The lungs are linked in the Chinese system with the large intestine. Together they create a balance of pure energy being drawn into the body through the breath and of waste being released. Autumn is a time of gathering the energy we need to sustain us through the winter, and also invites us to release whatever we no longer need. This could be a literal release, like finally cleaning out that junk drawer (!), or a figurative one, like releasing judgments or resentments. Like the trees dropping their leaves, we don’t need to force anything. We can just let them go.

Element

The element associated with the lungs is metal. I was surprised by this, because I think of lungs as being very “air-y” and light, while metal is heavy and found deep in the earth. Then I thought about how we value metal. Think about gold, for example. For a long time, our economy was based on the gold standard, making gold not only a thing of beauty, but a measure of value essential to our financial health, just like the lungs bring in air, our most essential necessity for life.

Emotions

The emotional associations are often categorized as positive or negative, but don’t think of this as good or bad, but more like a polarity, or a balance. For the lungs, the negative emotions are sadness and grief. The positive ones are surrender and courage.

Sadness and grief are a normal part of life. Sometimes people experience these emotions in the autumn, as the light fades, the rain comes (in the Pacific Northwest at least), and the lush green vibrancy of summer gets swept into piles of brown leaves in the street.

Sadness and grief are not “bad.” On the contrary, they can open our hearts and connect us to others by stripping away our facades. But they can become debilitating and unhealthy if they become stuck. This can happen when we try to deny or avoid emotions that feel painful or uncomfortable. This is the beauty of the positive (again think polarity and balance) emotions of surrender and courage. Courage allows us to surrender to the experience of our sadness or grief, and this allows it to move through us and be released, in its own time like the leaves falling.


There are other associations, but these, I think, are the ones that give us the most to think about. Any thoughts on these? What do you think about when you think about autumn? What associations do you have?

Tao Te Ching – Chapter 33

This short little chapter is easy to overlook, yet it contains deep teaching for living a happy and content life.

Knowing others is wisdom
Knowing the self is enlightenment

The characters for knowing  知  and wisdom   智  are similar, but the one for wisdom adds a “sun” component underneath. So wisdom is enlightened knowledge. But the character for enlightenment   明  takes it further by combining the sun  日  and moon   月  to create pure light beyond knowing and wisdom.

Conquering others requires force
Conquering the self requires inner strength

One of the things I love about martial arts, at least how it’s taught at my school, is that it is much more about developing inner awareness and energy than it is about overcoming someone else by physical force. There is always someone bigger and stronger, but if I develop my inner strength, then I can never be threatened or defeated.

One who stays centered endures
To die yet not perish is immortality

This last line is intriguing–yes? It reminds me of the Bible’s teaching that we must lose our life to gain eternal life. To me, this means that when we recognize that our individual ego self is impermanent and illusory, and let it go, we awaken into our true, eternal nature.

Overall, this chapter teaches that becoming self aware and taking responsibility for ourselves will lead to liberation from the limits of the transitory ego. The bad news is that we can no longer blame anyone for our lack of well being. The good news is that we have the power within ourselves to awaken into truth and joy. By being true to ourselves, we transcend ourselves – the wonderful paradox of awakening!

Walk into the fire
It will burn you to life

The Oneness Game

Okay, this is going to seem silly at first, but consider giving it a try.

The idea for this post grew out of a game I was playing with my grandson. We were taking random objects and identifying qualities that were alike and different. Then the conversation moved to people. As we played, I started thinking we were onto something profound. Of course every grandparent thinks that everything they do with a grandchild is profound.

But it got me to thinking about situations and people that seem irreconcilably opposed. Naturally, I’m thinking of the current social and political climate in this country and in the world, but let’s not make this about politics. At least not overtly. Let’s start with something not so emotionally charged, and simplify it to consider what unites us instead of what divides us.

Just like the game with my grandson, start with a few random objects you see around you right now. For example, I’m looking at my computer, my phone, and some paper I’ve written notes on. While the computer and the phone are both more technologically advanced than paper (and they are both smarter than I am), all three have in common that I use them for communication.

Another example – I was in a diverse group of people recently and we were trying to find something we all had in common. It turned out that we all had a Memphis connection.

See how it works? No matter what or who is being grouped, we can always find something in common. And with people, this is the beginning of connection, relationship, understanding, dialogue. It doesn’t always mean we like the other person or agree with them, but finding common ground means that we are no longer completely divided.

Give it a try. Remember to start small, and work your way up to the tough ones. And have fun!

Glory Glory

The stately tree trunks
Stand so still
But high above
The tree tops dance
Glory
Glory 
To the morning sun

Catching Monkeys

When hunters in Africa want to catch a monkey, they carve a small hole in something stationary, like a gourd secured with a rope. They put food in the hole, stand back, and wait. The monkey will reach into the hole and grab a handful, but with a fist full of food the monkey can’t get its hand back out. Even as the hunter approaches, the monkey will frantically pull and scream, but it won’t let go. It is caught.

All the monkey has to do is let go. If it releases what it grasps so tightly in its fist, it will be free.

I can relate. Sometimes I find myself trapped by my own attachment to a belief or judgment or desire or emotion. Perhaps I am holding onto resentment over something that happened years ago. Or I am judging a person or a situation in a way that isolates me or causes me fear. The word “conviction” is interesting. Conviction can mean that I have been declared guilty of a crime. It can also mean a firmly held belief. Do my beliefs in some way imprison me?

Whatever I am holding onto, is it of more value to me than my freedom? What am I willing to let go of to release myself from self-imposed bondage?

Consider what you might be grasping in your fist that keeps you trapped. What would it take to just open your hand and be free?

Freedom...is the act of releasing ourselves from the bondage of that which keeps us from living the life we were meant to live.  ~Kelli Wilson

Tao Te Ching – Chapter 32

I recently wrote a post about the effect of naming on our direct experience of the present moment, and now I turn to the next chapter in the Tao Te Ching and guess what it’s about. Naming! Cosmic synchronicity. I promise I didn’t plan it this way.

Tao is forever without name 
Though its natural state is small 
Nothing under heaven can rule it

The character for “natural state” is  朴, used throughout the Tao Te Ching to describe the simple, pure, limitless potential of Tao. It literally means an uncarved block of wood. Once it is carved into something, that something has a name. The name identifies a specific form. It becomes this and not that. It becomes limited. That’s not a bad thing. After all, Michelangelo took uncarved blocks of marble and turned them into beauty.

The Bible creation story begins “Now the earth was formless and empty.... Then God said, ‘Let there be light’ and there was light.” Speaking a name brought into existence what was named. There is an inherent connection between naming and creation.

Tao is without name. It is forever limitless and unknowable, and therefore beyond our control. And yet....

If princes and kings could abide by it (or in it)
All creation would follow

The text can be interpreted as referring to actual leaders, or to ruling our inner self. If the ruler in either context is in harmony with the natural order, all else falls into place without the need of external enforcement.

As a lawyer, I find this fascinating. In our society, we hold high the “rule of law.” As a contracts lawyer, my job was to negotiate the private “rule of law” between the parties. In other words, I helped them “name” and agree to the rules that would govern their contractual relationship. In the United States, this process has evolved into ever more detailed and cumbersome agreements, as all of us can appreciate when we have to sign something too long to read and too complex to understand.

I shake my head in wonder at the prescience of the author of this ancient text who said over two thousand years ago:

To make order, names arise
Names lead to more names
Know when to stop
Thus avoid harm

We continue to solve perceived problems by more rules. Don’t misunderstand. I’m not an anarchist. I appreciate the need for rules and the good intentions of sincere rule makers. I certainly had a few rules in my own household that brought moments of order out of the chaos of so many kids. But I also tried to keep in mind that there was a tipping point beyond which too many rules were counterproductive. As always, there is a middle road of balance, and a sense of ease when we align ourselves with the natural order of the universe.

Tao’s manifestation under heaven
Is like a river flowing home to the sea

Naming creates existence which reflects the perfection of the nameless. The destiny of all creation is ultimately to return to the Source, as naturally as water effortlessly flows to join with itself.

So we might give some thought in our own lives to the rules we have set up for ourselves. Do they foster or block our journey home? Do they connect us to a sense of oneness or isolate us from the sea of common existence?

In the beginning was the Word. ~John 1:1

Rock Turtles

Low creek waters
Reveal round back rocks
Basking like turtles
In the late summer sun

Naming

I was sitting by the creek last weekend watching the light play on the dancing water. When I looked downstream, there was a beautiful cluster of snow white flowers blooming on a tall stalk leaning out over the creek. As I got closer I could see that the cluster was made up of tiny star burst blossoms.

In that first moment of sight I experienced a sense of wonder and delight, a gift of exquisite loveliness right there, offering beauty to the trees, the water, the birds and insects...and me. I felt humbly blessed.

All that took place in the nanosecond gap before my thoughts kicked in. My first thought was “What is this flower?” What I meant was the flower’s name, its label. I didn’t know. Not knowing gave me a subtle feeling of unease as my mind searched for what it might be. I made a plan to take a photo and circulate it to see if someone could tell me. As I got caught up in my thoughts and plans, the initial experience of enchantment quietly faded. It was almost as if the flower no longer existed if I couldn’t discover its name.

When I realized what was happening I was amazed by the rapidity of my shift from a receptive state of gratitude to a restless state of thinking. It happened so fast I barely noticed it. But I did notice it, and felt the loss of that moment of pure enjoyment.

Names are not bad. They allow us to function in the world and communicate with each other. But names are a step removed from what is named. If we jump too quickly into our thoughts, we miss the direct experience of what is happening in the moment. We miss the miracle.

Let’s try to watch for that fleeting gap before we shift from experience to thought, and appreciate the gift that each moment generously bestows.

The name that can be named is not the eternal name. ~Tao Te Ching

PS–If you know the name of this flower, don’t tell me!

Destiny

Is it possible
You ask
Indeed
It is inevitable

Tao Te Ching – Chapter 31

Although disjointed and repetitive, lacking the grace and poetry of other chapters (some scholars think this chapter was corrupted somehow), we can nevertheless consider the basic message:

Weapons are tools of violence and fear
Wise people avoid them
Using them only when there is no other recourse
Never celebrating victory
Grieving for the fallen

As it says in The Art of War, the best battle is the one not fought. When I taught contract drafting in law school, my students would tell me that they wanted to draft a contract that would “win in court.” I always told them, “If your contract ends up in court, you have already lost. You are only in court when the purpose of the contract has failed. Even if you win in court, your original objective will not be achieved.”

Looking back at my personal life, I can’t think of one argument I’ve had with anyone that left me feeling good about fighting. Even if I got the desired outcome, I paid a price. I lost a friendship, perhaps, or hurt someone, or felt my energy drained. There was rarely pleasure in victory. In reviewing a dispute, I can often see something I could have done differently to still get the desired outcome or a reasonable compromise, and leave both sides feeling less battered by the process.

Having said all that, I confess that I do love martial arts weapons. I love the grace and skill involved, and yes, I also love the combat aspect, even though I have absolutely no desire to engage in actual combat. It seems contradictory, but I know that practicing martial arts over the years has taught me more about peace than about fighting.

So perhaps we can consider in our own lives what we really gain by fighting, and what we lose. And perhaps we can pause for a moment before engaging to see if there is a better way.

Don't fight a battle if you don't gain anything by winning. ~General Patton

Even a Little Light

Like many who saw the solar eclipse in Portland, Oregon, I was surprised that it didn’t get darker. Not far to the south of us, people experienced the night darkness of the total eclipse. But in my location, it was like someone had turned the dimmer switch down just a little. Looking through my special glasses at the 99% eclipse, all I could see was a tiny sliver of sunlight around the dark moon. Yet that 1% of sunlight was still enough to light the earth and was still much too bright to look at without the protective glasses.

Even a little light is enough to dispel the darkness. Think about that.

And let your light shine.

It is better to light one small candle than to curse the darkness. ~Chinese proverb

The Season of Balance

This continues and completes our series about the associations made in Chinese medicine and qigong between the five major organ systems and five elements. These associations are expanded to include associations with emotions, energies, animals, colors, sounds...and seasons. In this series, I’ve tried to highlight a few of the associations that you might enjoy contemplating.

Fall was the season of courage and gathering energy. Winter was the season of stillness and storing energy. Spring was the season of forgiveness and expanding energy. Summer was the season of joy and release.

And now...what? There is a fifth season? Yes, this is the season of late summer, the season of in between. The days are shortening yet still warm. The leaves are still green yet not as lush. Many are fitting in one more vacation while they are also in the process of gearing up for the new school year. It is a time of transition, as summer winds down and fall has not yet arrived.

In the West, at least in temperate climates, we think in terms of four seasons. The Chinese add this in between time as a fifth season, a season of balance.

Organ

The organ associated with late summer is the spleen and pancreas. Although separate anatomically, these are considered one organ system. The spleen serves multiple functions of filtering, recycling, and storing blood. The pancreas produces insulin to regulate the body’s glucose levels. All these functions are related to the energy of this season – balance. It is an energy of poise after the gathering of fall, the storing of winter, the expansion of spring, and the release of summer. Now there is a pause before the beginning the cycle again with the gathering harvest of autumn.

Just as the spleen/pancreas provides balance within our bodies, this in between season is a wonderful time to find balance in our lives. An instruction in meditation and in martial arts is “Not too tight, not too loose.” Balancing is a dynamic process, shifting moment to moment to maintain equilibrium.

Element

The element associated with late summer is earth. We sometimes describe balance as being grounded, or we compliment someone by saying they have their feet on the ground. In Greek mythology, Antaeus was the son of Mother Earth. As long as he was in contact with the earth, his mother protected him and he could not be defeated in battle. (Hercules figured this out and killed him while holding him up in the air.) We think of the earth as nurturing, providing a bounty of beauty and blessings.

If we review the elements associated with the five seasons, we will see that they follow a creative cycle. Metal, associated with fall, “creates” water through condensation. Water in winter creates the wood of spring. Wood creates summer’s fire. And now the ashes after the fire return to nourish the earth. And earth, in turn, cradles metal. Each element in turn brings its gift to our lives and ushers in the next. So generous.

Emotions

As stated before, the emotional associations are often categorized as positive or negative, but don’t think of this as good or bad, but more like a polarity, or a balance.

The negative emotion associated with this in between season is worry. I see that manifested all around me now for so many reasons, some national or global in scope, but also I hear worry in individual lives.

The positive emotions are fairness and compassion. I find it fascinating to contemplate the emotional pairings associated with the seasons. Some are easier to connect, like the anger and forgiveness of spring. But some are more subtle, like the sadness and courage of fall.

Fairness has an obvious relation to the balance energy of this season. But how does compassion balance worry? It seems to me that worry often involves judgment. Anticipated circumstances are good or bad, or we fret that we are somehow falling short. Compassion softens judgment. Compassion opens and connects. Compassion accepts. It finds the fairness and balance in the middle.

So, my friends, as we rest in this in between season, may we release all worry and find balance in our lives through compassion for ourselves and everyone.

If a problem has a solution, there is no need to worry. If a problem does not have a solution, there is no need to worry. ~the Dalai Lama

Bringing Peace

Fighting will never bring peace
Ceasing to fight will never bring peace
Only ceasing to fear will bring peace
We will cease to fear 
    when we realize there is nothing to fear
We will realize there is nothing to fear
     when we remember who we are
We will remember who we are
     when we release everything we are not
We will release everything we are not
     when we understand that everything we are not is...
Everything

Note: I posted this poem in February, but perhaps a reminder is timely. 

Tao Te Ching – Chapter 30

Some have characterized the theme of this chapter as karma, or you reap what you sow. But I’m not sure this gives the whole picture. If I understand karma correctly, one can sow goodness instead of evil and thereby earn goodness in return. This chapter, however, seems to carry forward from the last chapter the idea that sowing anything from the ego self is an interference with the natural flow of the universe, and will lead to disharmony and misfortune. And perhaps this is a more fair characterization of karma than the one we often use.

We can see this in the context of well intentioned advances in science and technology that had unintended harmful consequences. Farming techniques, for example, that increase yield, providing more food for more people, have sometimes caused environmental damage. Medicines that seemed miraculous were later discovered to have dire side effects. We see it in our own lives as well. How many of us have tried to direct a particular outcome, believing it to be beneficial to someone we love, only to have our efforts backfire? (My hand is raised.)

The road to hell, as the saying goes, is paved with good intentions.

The point, I think, is not that we shouldn’t do good things, but rather that we should align ourselves with Tao (the Holy Spirit, cosmic energy, whatever name you prefer) and allow good things to naturally happen. When our thoughts, words, and actions are naturally attuned to the appropriate course, we don’t do good, as much as good happens through us. Everything remains in natural harmony and balance.

The chapter opens with a military analogy.

One who rules in accordance with Tao
Does not use force to conquer the world
Force turns back upon itself
Briars grow where the army camps
Great wars bring years of misery

As with all the ruling or military references in the Tao Te Ching, we can take them literally (perhaps a timely application given current world affairs), or consider them in the context of our personal lives. As another example, I was practicing push hands with  my tai chi teacher this morning. He wanted to show me something that he had recently learned, but in order to show me, he needed me to push or advance towards him. I didn’t know this, though, and I hung back, staying loose and nonaggressive.

What was funny about this is that I am usually more likely to push forward, but because that rarely ends well for me (!), I was consciously trying this morning to be more neutral. In so doing, I unwittingly kept him from using his new technique. In fact, at one point, he got a bit off balance himself. When he complimented me on uprooting him, I realized that I really had done nothing; he had uprooted himself (a very rare occurrence!).

Since it is almost always me in that position of being uprooted, it was interesting to view it from the other perspective. I could see so clearly how my own efforts to direct or control my push hands partner were invariably to my disadvantage. And, like all the lessons I learn in martial arts, I could see just as clearly how this applies in my everyday life.

So perhaps we can all watch for those times in our lives when we want to “rule by force,” with or without good intentions. What that happens, perhaps we might pause, take a deep breath, and consider that we might not know the best course. Perhaps we can allow ourselves to be guided by a deeper wisdom, and trust, really trust, in the basic goodness of the universe.

Lean not on your own understanding, but yield yourself to divine guidance, and your paths will be made straight. ~paraphrase of Proverbs 3:5-6

dragon pearls

pearls

shimmer

moonglow

dragons

chasing

fortune's fire

Losing My Mind, and That’s OK

Here is a recent text exchange with a martial arts buddy. He and I usually go to the same tai chi class on Friday mornings, and then stay after class to practice swords. This exchange took place on Wednesday.

Me: Since you are not going to be there on Friday, do you want to go to tai chi in the morning and then play with swords after? If so, I’ll come in the morning instead of Friday morning.

Him: I have time for the swords but not the tai chi. Meet after class? We’re talking Thursday, right?

Me: Right I meant Thursday. Why have I been thinking today is Wednesday all day? Yes Thursday.

Him: It is Wednesday right?

Me: Stop it! What the heck is today?

Him: Wait, I’m serious. Today is Wednesday right? Oh man I’m laughing too hard to text.

Me: Oh that’s right. It is Wednesday today....isn’t it?

Good grief. Can anyone relate? Our brains like to keep us humble. At least my brain does. My daughter says I have the memory of a gnat. She says it with humor and affection, but it is nonetheless true.

Some people are upset about the muddled thinking that sometimes besets their brains, but really, what is there to be upset about? My brain and I have been through many decades together, and for the most part it has served me well. If it needs a break now and then, or if it just has its own devilish sense of humor, then that’s okay.

We can still be friends. Like all friends, we make mistakes. We are less than perfect. Sometimes we do something embarrassing. Sometimes it’s funny. Sometimes not.

This incident with my brain in this text exchange was insignificant in the big scheme of life, but I realized that most things I think are a big deal aren’t really a big deal.

I think my brain was reminding me to lighten up, laugh at myself, and enjoy.

The first step towards true enlightenment is to lighten up on yourself. ~Bashar

Tao Te Ching – Chapter 29

Efforts to interfere with the natural rhythm of the universe
Will not succeed

I am a control addict in recovery, or at least making progress. I long ago realized that I can’t control anything outside myself – the weather, kittens, how other people drive, and so on. Not only did I discover that is it a relief to abandon futile efforts to control what I can’t control, but even better, I came to appreciate the innate beauty and rhythm and perfection of the world left pristine.

The world is a sacred vessel
That cannot be controlled
If you tamper with it you will destroy it
If you grasp it you will lose it 

The parallels to our world environmental crises are obvious, but it applies just as well to our inner environment. The self help industry is about creating healthier, happier egos. And that’s fine. My own 10 Steps to Finding Your Happy Place blog and book were part of that effort. And certainly a happy ego is better than a miserable one.

But that ego self is what blocks our awareness of our true nature as a sacred vessel of universal light and love. That doesn’t make the ego bad. It just recognizes the ego as limited and limiting. The ego doesn’t so much destroy our true nature as much as it prevents our experience of it, an ephemeral experience that cannot be held static, but must be allowed to flow from moment to moment.

In that sense, the last two lines above can also be interpreted as:

Your attempt to tamper will fail
Your attempt to grasp will miss

When we allow ourselves and our world to move freely, the natural movement of yin yang swirls in perfect balance.

So sometimes things are ahead, sometimes behind
Sometimes gentle, sometimes forceful
Sometimes strong, sometimes weak
Sometimes up, sometimes down

Therefore the sage avoids extremes, excess, and extravagance

The middle road is the way of no way, not directing, not controlling, not judging, not dominating. It is the way of allowing, flowing, being present, responding appropriately, being in harmony. It manifests as kindness, simplicity, humility, joy, compassion, gratitude, peace.

This closing quote says it all. And I can attest from personal experience that it is absolutely true. When I am not at peace, then I can be sure that I am trying to control something I can’t control, that I’m wanting reality to be something other than what it is. My efforts will fail, and in the process I will lose my awareness of the beauty and sacred perfection of, well, everything.

For peace of mind, resign as general manager of the universe. ~Larry Eisenberg

Only Then Is Grace

We cling
With such sweet believing
To our suffering
And call it brave
Until finally
There is nothing left
Sinking in surrender
Only then
Is grace

Revealing Gold

In 1954, an insignificant Buddha statue made of painted and decorated plaster was being moved in Bangkok from its modest shed to a new temple. Weighing over five tons, the statue was too heavy for the crane and it fell to the ground. A piece of plaster chipped off the base. When the workers examined the damage they saw something shiny underneath the plaster. That something shiny turned out to be gold. Removing all the plaster revealed an exquisite, solid gold Buddha.

Crafted centuries before, the statue was at some point hidden under the plaster, probably to protect it from invaders. Over the years, the true nature of the statue was forgotten, and the plaster statue was at various times housed in minor temples and even stored under a tin shed.

Imagine everyone’s surprise when they realized the existence of this priceless treasure, which was revealed by simply removing the false exterior. When I lived in Bangkok, I stood before this gleaming statue, marveling at its breathtaking beauty. I loved it even more, I think, because of its story.

Its story is our story. Hidden under our exterior ego selves is our true nature, our gleaming, pure, divine perfection. We search high and low, reading books, following teachers, worshiping at altars, trying ever more diligently, more frantically, to find that which we most desire. And all the while, it is right where it has always been, deep inside, waiting.

We have forgotten who we are. Like the people who believed for centuries that the plaster coating was the real statue, we have bought into the illusion that we are what we think ourselves to be, when in fact, we are more than our minds can possibly imagine or understand. But if we’re lucky, at some point life will drop us on the ground, and a little piece of our carefully constructed protective layer will chip off. If we dare to peek inside, we will see the glow of Truth. And it will be beautiful.

The kingdom of God is within you. ~Luke 17:21

Tao Te Ching – Chapter 28

The theme of this chapter is returning to our natural state. Tao is the undifferentiated source of the manifested universe. Tao manifests in the universe as Te. Remember that Te is loosely translated as virtue but does not mean virtue in the sense of morality, but rather in the sense of an inner harmony or integrity. Te is not separate from Tao, but rather is the natural expression or revelation of Tao in the world. Te ultimately returns to its source in Tao.

When our own lives manifest the integrity of Te, we return to our natural state of harmony with Tao. One aspect of the integrity of Te is the reconciliation of duality. The chapter gives us three examples.

Reconciling male and female
Become the watercourse for the world
Te will remain
Returning to infancy

An infant represents the primal unity of male and female, a pure channel through which Te flows uninterrupted. Jesus spoke of the innocence of children and their close link to the divine.

Reconciling black and white
Become the model for the world
Te will not fail
Returning to limitlessness

The characters for limitlessness are 无极 , pronounced wuji. If you practice taiji or other martial arts, you are probably familiar with wuji stance, which is basically a relaxed standing posture. The limitlessness of wuji is described as emptiness and is represented by this symbol.

This wuji symbol represents the vast emptiness and limitless potential of Tao. When Tao manifests into form it becomes a duality of black and white, or light and dark, or yin and yang, represented by the taiji symbol.

So within these two symbols we can see the limitless source of Tao manifesting into the perfect harmony of Te. When the two aspects of Te swirl together, they return to the undifferentiated source of Tao.

And finally...

Reconciling honor and disgrace 
Become the valley of the world
Te is then complete
Returning to an uncarved block

The image of the valley is used several times in the Tao Te Ching. A valley is low, fertile, open. It lies humbly beneath the rolling hills or majestic mountains that surround it. Yet it is the source of all nourishment that sustains life. It is a place of refuge and home to the water that seeks the low path.

The image of an uncut block of wood is also used several times in the Tao Te Ching, conveying a sense not only of simplicity but also of unlimited potential. The uncut block of wood can become many things. In the process of carving, however, the emerging form begins to eliminate possibilities. As the completed shape becomes defined, it takes on an identity, separate from all other things it might have been. The uncut block of wood represents the beginner’s mind of zen. And here, it represents the unlimited potential of Tao, the source from which the universe manifests and to which it returns.

The images and poetry of this chapter are so beautiful. If we can take these images as our guides, they will reveal to us the rhythm of the universe, the rhythm of manifesting and returning. Within that rhythm, we can find the balance of duality, the still point around which duality circles in its endless dance.

Is there an image here that especially resonates for you?

May I walk in the path of the low valley. ~2 Nephi 4:32