Remorse

As I become more fully and regularly in touch with the basic goodness, the awareness of which arises and is strengthened by my hour a day morning practice, I'm confronted with other feelings.  Grief. Remorse. The need to forgive and be forgiven.
  I spent so much of my life just wandering around looking for help and healing. The path is clearer now, but now I'm processing the realization that the path was always there, but I chose differently.  I chose television, hopeless relationships, isolation, numbness and escape. Not always. I also chose books, made and maintained friendships, psychotherapy, Zhan Zhuang.  But sometimes I only see the confusion.
This may be because I've been wandering off the path of late. Looking for other teachers and not quite devoting myself to the Tergar program, as I kind of vowed to do.
  Kind of vowed.  That says it all.  I'm still not committing. Not committing to this, to my writing career, to the non-profit I'm starting, to Ben. To any one thing really.
  And I'm beating myself up about it.
  Let's look for this moment at the things that I am committed to.  An hour a day practice, which is no small thing. My Tergar retreats, which take time and money.  My running.  And I have been editing my book every morning.  It feels ready.
  There's a commitment there that arises automatically out of the energy that I build through these commitments. It steadies me, even when I wander off.
  This week, I will return to my level three practice routine.  Keep to the algorithm of the path I've been engaged in.  I'm not ready to commit to Ngondro. It's interesting, but I'm not there yet.  So I'm going to keep to the secular path for now. It's more sustainable in the life I'm living. If and when I feel grief and remore, I will recognize them as signs that I'm making progress, deepening my awareness, which included the recognition of where I went wrong and the consequences of those behaviours, and letting go, which always brings with it the sharpness of grief.  These are purifying emotions.  I can handle them.
  But for now I return.

Nectar

Last Sunday in retreat Minjur, my meditation teacher, led us through an exercise where we repeatedly ask "who is this I that is experiencing this meditation?", "where is the I that is experiencing this meditation?" The more I ask this question, the more I see how small and tight, imprisoned and in pain this "I" is. And the more that I see that it isn't even me.  It really is like waking up from a dream, where you've been identifying with a character who feels like you but never was.
  Here's the thing though.  The de-stabilizing and challenging realization is that the "I" you're waking up with isn't really an I either. It's like an infinite peeling back until you realize that the whole idea of a center is something of an illusion.
   So what's left?
   One option is think, "well if every "I" is imaginary, why not imagine a stable, happier, more powerful I. Might as well.  It won't last.  No I's do. But it's better than the alternative, terrified, chaotic I.  Or at least it feels better."
  That's what I've been doing this week.  Imagining myself in this cozy little palace, on top of some Tibetan type mountain, with a view that stretches out for a hundred miles.  Feeling all the light and nectar and joy that would be available to me if I had the same power as the gurus in the Tibetan lineage that Mingyur Rinpoche  is part of.  As I do this I begin to feel those tiny veins of warmth begin to flow.  And I imagine that they are no longer tiny, but a steady, strong flow of vitality. And then I am grateful for it as though I can already feel its full momentum.  And then I do my best to believe that this is as real as the table I'm writing on right now.
  And then the most important thing, I imagine that this enlightened energy is going out to everyone, Ben, my mother, my father, my brother and everyone.  Everyone.  And I am grateful for whatever way I am being a vehicle for this progression for all.

Grasping

This afternoon I head to a retreat that centers on the theme of grasping.

Grasping in Tibetan budhism is the cause of suffering. Grasping means our tendency to see things as existing. I'm still not entirely confident that I understand what that means. But for now I understand it better on a physical level. I feel a grasping tension throughout my body and my brain. The process of unlocking that I began last week is a way of letting go of this belief that keeps locking me back into suffering.

This morning, for a short time I returned to The Mirror exercise. I look at the objects in front of me and see them as simply reflections in a mirror. As I do this, I inevitably feel the tension in my brain begin to relax. Soon I begin to see and feel my body as merely a reflection of my feelings. If the tension were to completely disappear would "I" disappear? Letting go of these beliefs is a very de-stabilizing process. It's one thing to understand them conceptually. It's another to feel those beliefs in your psyche. And quite another to let them go. Beliefs are the skeleton of the soul. You don't just throw them out and expect to be able to walk. To some extent, I expect, you learn to live with them, but see them as just bones, not that which actually makes us alive.

unlocked

Tibetan Buddhism believes that the main cause of suffering is "grasping." It's a word that brings up a lot of associations, desire, tension, desperation. As I become more senstive to the inner workings of my mind and my body, I notice more the subtle pervasive grasping in my body, and part of my brain that feel like white knuckle. This feeling of deep and ingrained tension has become over the course of my life a normal way of being.

Last week the solution to this problem seemed so simple.  Lock in to those parts of my brain that bring relaxation, the pitutary gland that may be the "third eye," that place in my heart that wants freedom from suffering that may be the pump to a well of oxitocin, the place in my gut that keeps the serotonin dripping.

But this morning I began to feel in my meditation that this might just be another form of grasping. If I were going to put this in the language of programming, there needs to be a base case. We can't just live in an infinte loop of feel good. Can we? And would we want to, if we could.  Isn't that just the other side of the suffering habit. It's just habit.

it's so important to develop the skill of unlocking. Of just being with whatever shows up, the joy, the peace, the suffering, the tension. The fear of the worst that may or may not happen.

So this week, as I continue to practice compassion for a loved one, I will also practice unlocking everything, along with my heart.