Category Archives: Buddhism

Easy Peasy

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As I was making my bed with the elephant imprinted sheets raising its trunk in the air to bring in prosperity, I was thinking about effort. Struggle, work, denial, sweat, striving, stress were all presented to me in my family as a sign of virtue. To work hard and to occasionally suffer greatly meant that you were a valuable person.

My entire family indulged in workaholism. My parents each had two jobs. My mother went to night school to become a hospital administrator. I came home each day after school and cleaned, did laundry, waxed floors. My social outings restricted to the library to “work” on school assignments. I took double loads at university, worked several jobs and danced in the campus Orchesis Modern Dance troupe.

I slid the sheets on the corners of my bed and thought about how ridiculous it is to require of people that they suffer from work enough to prove that they hold value. World glass gymnast, skateboarders, Olympic athletes, professional surfers do not look like they are out of control, exhausted and awkward.

beauty in the mundane


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Their performance is an easy, graceful flow. We see how completely they trust their own bodies as we watch their performances.

So what I have come to realize as I make the beds, prepare the house for the next guests seven days a week, is the effortlessness of it. I move easily, efficiently with skill. I do not take in deep suffering breaths and talk to myself about the challenge of hosting 887 people since January. I just stay NOW. I just enjoy the sunshine when I go out to sweep the deck or carry the garbage to the alley.

Acceptance of things as they are opens us up to a high performance life. We are trusting that the calm, expansive place of flow will bring greater skills to us. We will learn over time. We will get better at that which we practice. Anyone who is good at what he or she does knows how to loosen up and allow the skill to build with repetition. On the crest of the wave, there is a place of balance.

The Joy of Grief

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Stored grief, trapped grief, neglected and locked up in the basement or attic grief can be ignored. We are encouraged in our culture to imprison it immediately and never look upon its face again.

Stored grief becomes baseline anxiety. It haunts our system like a poltergeist. We may jump at sounds, flinch at a massage therapists touch, see personal attacks in the words or looks of another individual. Stored grief makes us frightened children. We are telling ourselves that we are not big enough, strong enough, mature enough, powerful enough to look at this grief with clear vision. Our culture tells us that we are not whole enough to experience the entirety of emotions.

Only some emotions are allowed in. But grief is already housed in us. We have suffered a plethora of grief stories by the time we are adults. It is a Netflix, Crave vastness of stories of loss, abandonment, physical pain. And we in our human condition are newborn soft. Our bodies are fragile. Our minds are untrained and nervous. Our yearnings are childish. We are walking the earth without armour plating.

And so IT happens. The loss shears away some part of our lives we thought was eternal. The abandonment occurs again and again. The insults to our spirits occur on a daily basis. The more that we are enduring, the more that we are obscuring.

Life strikes us

The only way that we can free ourselves of the fragility of our state is to understand it fully. The body will tell us when we are wounded. The breath will tell us when we are experiencing fear. In that moment, if we are to be adults, we must feel what is happening to us physically. We must stop and see the sadness that has just been triggered within us.

Thich Nhat Han says, “We must hold our grief like a baby.”
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To sit with the grief, the sadness, the wounding, the pain and hold it in our arms takes an adult spirit. To see that life costs us in so many ways and when the next loss appears, it is our duty to ourselves to hold it in our arms. And so we cry. And so we weep. We release the grief so that it will not haunt us every single day. We are unafraid to say that we are merely human. We are unafraid to say that right now, this day or this week, I am processing grief. It is different than clinging to grief so that we can get attention.

We can grow ourselves.

It is different than dragging grief behind us in the childish grip like a teddy bear.

We recognize the pain of being human when it arises so that we may release it. Only when we are no longer haunted by the locked up ghosts can we let the light and the joy in.

Let us shift the culture so that we allow others to feel both grief and, through releasing it, the joy that comes next. Anger is being worn like a cutting edge fashion statement at the current time.

And anger is neither here nor there.

Throw open your windows to all of life. Get rid of the ghosts.

What is Truth?

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I am run over by the stories in my mind like a person standing in a raging crowd which is pushing through to some scarcity prize..So many versions of my life clustering the aisle of truth.

But when I check this blog, I see actually. I wrote only one entry in July and it has been a full month to the day since I last posted.

Where did the time go? What was I doing? Why did my intentions dissolve like the smoke from my incense burning in front of my Buddha statue. My mind has constructed a narrative which I see converges in three directions easily running along the ground in different dimensions.

What have I done? I sit asking myself. Every day I have prepared my airbnb for new guests. I have worked out three to four times I week. I have walked building onto my habit of walking until one week I hit 66 Kilometers of travel on my feet.

But. But. I excuse myself with the heat. My productivity falls when the temperature crosses the border line of 30 celsius. I say to myself… you are old Mother Williams… yes that poem by Lewis Carroll.

“You are old, Father William,” the young man said,
“And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head –
Do you think, at your age, it is right?”

“In my youth,” Father William replied to his son,
“I feared it might injure the brain;
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Why, I do it again and again.”

So I have no brain or mindfulness when I excuse myself from my dreams. I placate myself that it is enough what I do because… and then I wander into the garden of blooming rationalizations and pluck a multifarious bouquet.

People plaster the sides of my reality with their “fun” billboards. At least, you should have fun. The call to tomfoolery is like a jingle played repeatedly on TV. I am instructed to adhere to the behavior of others… the hot sand, the stasis of seeking, the grouping to make trivializing conversation. None of that has ever held joy for me. I have always know I am an outlier, an alien being.

I stand on my head again and again and keep returning to the pervasive sense that I have played small; that I have taken the easy route; that I have somehow starved my future self of the glory that should be.

I have worked a seven day week since April and the business unfolds in front of me until the last week in October. The two hour retreats from the heat under the fan watching netflix is “wasted” time, I natter into my skull. “What are you doing?” I crow caw to myself.

And then I skip out to the garden and pluck the blossom excuses to put in water in a single vase. Oh they are beautiful those mix of mitigations.

So I know that I can trust myself so far. I can trust myself to do a teensy bit more than I did. I can trust myself to take slightly greater risks than I have. I can trust myself to stick my neck out a considered inch or two more.

Is that enough? I have no way of knowing the truth because I have stood on my head so long. At least, I know that much. I seek meaning. Fuck Fun.

Question Everything: Question Nothing

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Inquiry, we are told, leads to clarity. We stand back and observe and ask the question: “Why am I thinking that thing?” And then we ask: “Why am I asking myself why I am thinking that thing?”

Yesterday, perhaps it was the blood moon pulling at me, I found myself in a deeply philosophical state. I was looking at the reality I have created in my current life. Somewhere between your feet construct the fit of the shoes and the shoes constrict the spread of your feet, I just stood still.

I have had a deep well of loneliness for as long as I have conscious memory. And probably extending back before the transition into clear thinking. Outlier. The one who has a finely honed antenna cannot expect validation for the impressions of energy received. The validation only comes in the future.

As I felt the gut punch of hearing about the aids epidemic for the first time in 1981.. I went into the teachers’ staffroom and shared my despair for what was about to come. I spoke about the plague, the wide swath of death. I spoke about the change of everything we had know about sexual contact since the early days of death from syphilis. And all around me told me to calm down.

But I was used to that response. In 1968 when Nixon was elected I stood in front of the television and wept. Others around me were unaware of the draconian evil that would become a part of the political life of the United States. I kept saying, “He is so evil.” And they kept drinking beer and dismissing me.

Separation and not expecting others to see what I see, or feel what I feel is a life long coping strategy for me. But being comfortable with not being comfortable, what has that cost me?

I look at my current life and ask the question: What do you need to feel supported? And I am as usual in a debate in my own mind. The old story of separation and protection arises. The old song lyrics of not expecting much from others croons in my mind.

At a viagra 25 mg http://frankkrauseautomotive.com/?buy=8760 time that was unthinkable, today, that is possible. What you should do before taking levitra online order for personal use. In doing so, we often end up losing our interest in intimacy. cheap levitra generic Prior taking the dose it would be purchasing viagra better if you consume the product daily. At one time I was terribly ill with pneumonia and lost 20 lbs in three weeks. No one called. No one asked after me. No one reached out to me. It was because my habit of being tough, of not expecting nurturance or support constructed that event. It has been a life long projection.

So the central question I am looking at in this mad strobe light flickering energy on the earth right now is , “what is real?”

Am I isolated because I have been isolated? Is it fear of others? Or is it because I have little or no experience of connecting with others who can receive messages and read energy?

What does connection look like to me? What does the warm effortless floating of support look like to me?

At issue is the entire question of how satisfied I have been to live without intellectual conversation, without quick, educated minds around me. I have denied myself sustenance because I am used to not having it.

I have grown comfortable with being uncomfortable.

And so I question everything. And what I keep hearing is, “Question nothing.” Just see what you have created and trust that you are ready to grow. Accept what is. Accept what is becoming. Find a way through that tangled forest of thought to a place of opening. And then, can you shut up and dance/

We are only Human after all

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The stint of long distance stamina cross country marathon working pumping my limbs toward my goal of paying down my $110,000 reverse dowry (paying for my freedom from marriage) has been a great success. I have buckled down, buckled in, sucked it up, muscled up, stayed the course and bent my back into my airbnb business. As one of the top ten airbnb places in Kelowna, I have been so very grateful for the guests who have stayed with me. Their reviews, their company, their sweet thank yous have filled my life with light.

almost done

I have in a six year period gone from $110,000 in debt from the single check that I had to write in order to buy myself free down to a paltry $6,000 currently. However, the seven days a week of work for 8 months straight , of cleaning, of laundry, of restricting my movements so that I could be available to my guests, of living abstemiously ; of putting as much back into the business and the debt as my adolescent screaming on the inside could manage, has been demanding. There were openings of respite. I have gone on trips; purchased the odd new to me pieces of clothing and allowed frivolous expenditures like flowers for my garden that were not absolutely “necessary.” The unrelenting focus on paying down the debt and keeping my reviews at the Super Host status level has been a success.

Since October 20th I worked seven days a week from February 1st without a day off. And then I remembered  last year in October when I was shaky all over from the daily effort to bend my will, to put on the harness of discipline daily when I said out loud, “I need a break.” And then I fell down the stairs and fractured my wrist.

This year, I said to myself, this year you will stop before you are on your last torn shred of nerve. And so I blocked out all of November. I felt rebellious. I felt naughty. I felt outrageously irresponsible. How could I do that when I had debt left? How could I just ruthlessly cross off the chance to make thousands of dollars before my debt was disappeared.

I see a counsellor once a month and use her as my life coach. I check in with her to articulate what behaviours I am instilling in myself and what areas of wounding still drive my life. She worked with me for three continuous months gently suggestion that I could “let up on myself” before I saw a row of zeros on the debt counter.  I finally said, “I will be free at $10,000 stilll owing.”

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Today, I sit with $6,000 left on my debt in the month of November. I created this space of time off when I wildly crossed out all the days on  November’s calendar. And with a few days impetuously blanked out in October,  now I am living into 6 continuous days off. It comes home to me exactly how used up I am. I have no urge to travel, to start a new project, to explore the world, or myself.

The focus has been on meditation, sleep, teaching myself how to be a social being in the outside world again. I work out 5 days a week building muscle mass and I wait. I wait for the feeling that some magical glowing pathway will shine up into the gray befogged landscape of the present. I wait for the sense of joy and curiosity to return. I am no longer an indentured slave. I am no longer straining to put down the burden I have incurred by making an unenlightened choice of a mate. I have been buying off my own freedom. But I am tired.

What I find strange is that I had no idea exactly how pervasively exhausting and engaging this last six years has been. Having a purpose and a carefully defined struggle is a wonderful anesthetic. There are few decisions to be made. There are fewer possibilities  of going wrong. The harness is restrictive and comforting.

restrictions

And now, I cool my heels while my body recovers. I abide while I gain confidence that I am ready to deal with the outside world and finally walk toward my bigger dreams. My focus is on opening myself up to possibilities. So many of my delusions around deserving, around the heart hardening concept of toil, the crazily distorted mirrors which have reflected back who I think I am  are about to shift into the sheer joy of taking chances. It is right there in front of me and I am patient with not being quite able to see quite yet.

Autumn: What is happening?

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Autumn is a high wire act. The peak performance summer with its heat, 600 forest fires and 4 new guests every day into my home is one end of the wire. The other end is deep winter with its muted sounds, its sentinel plants poking up through the snow, its folding in on itself like a blanket around a reluctant person. In between, there are days that bring motivation. The gray coolness will be cut open with a sun knife and the clouds parted. The heat from the sky available in certain spot light areas.

As people turn up their furnaces, change blankets on the beds, structure new types of exercise into their lives the focus is on preparation.

How fitting it is that in the USA preparation for November 6th is also under way. The tribal disparities in belief systems have never been more virulent. Each side is now in a viral anger against the other. The background orchestral anxiety music is now playing so loudly it is causing a visceral reaction. Something is happening…. but it is impossible to see what it is.

We wait for winter hoping it will not present itself according to the predictions of the Farmer’s Almanac… a fierce and memorable assault. We wait for the election results in the USA with breath held. We wait to see if the disaffection with politicians and governments will fuel the rise of the hard cold presence of the conservatives here in Canada.
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Around the world there is a sense that we are only just maintaining our balance in a confusing time.

The work is to know we, each of us, walk alone together. Only the individual can stay in compassion and thereby show others a way of extending kindness. Only the individual can remain committed to healthy practices and thus show others it is possible to disengage from the self destructive distractions presented to us. Trusting our bodies is central. Trusting our in born values is more important than ever. Staying in a “self re-set” state is what past traumatic situations can teach us. The road of history is strewn with the psyches of those who trembled in fear. But those who know how to trust, know we are simply walking between two structures. Autumn turns to winter. Civilizations self destruct. Failing system fail. And now we take a breath. And now we find our balance. We hold onto the balance pole of love and stay focused.

Each passage from one structure of shared reality to another is giving us lessons. We are here to learn. It is a journey. Keep your balance.

Learning my boundaries: country of self

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I am constantly bumping into my limitations. There were days on end when the heat and smoke and working seven days a week were teaching me my capacity. How long can you go in a state of optimistic, accepting calm, woman? Hey. Let us find out.

When I stepped on a mass of dry twigs and three (so far that is the number that shot out of the resultant infection in my foot) shards were embedded; when my right eye stopped seeing clearly; when I found it difficult to breathe, I slid into a deep down knowing that the world was a crap lined cave of granite imprisonment. I forced myself to do the hours of work to prepare for guests every day but I settled for a grim existence.

stressors teach us

It makes me think of the experiences of my ancestors. The city is a fortress but it is surrounded by the invading hoards that have cordoned it off. No relief is in site. So for generations (on both familial trees) stoicism and indifferent detachment from one’s own suffering was the key to survival. I shift into “lock down” mode. I shift into disassociating mode.

Evidence of this arises frequently. After, I couldn’t see… I allowed three days to elapse before I got to the opthamologist.  Because the thought that something was happening to my vision was terrifying me, a person who is highly visually acute; an artist; a gardener, I buried it deep. Because my foot had an infection and stepping on it was painful, I just sat more. It was two weeks later that I showed it to my daughter and she suggested I actually soak it in epsom salts to encourage it to eject the intruding darts of lavender formed into weapons.

It was only when I sat with my counselor and explained some of the symptoms I was experiencing in my body that I heard her say, “Do you think you could be disassociation?”
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When the number and type of stressors I am experiencing ramps up, I go into lock down. I tell myself that the way out is to simply work harder on meditation and not see the events as negative. And then all hell breaks out. The bottom gear in my humanity is always blaming myself for my humanity.

no air

I have soaked my foot until all three pointy stick weapons were released by my body. I have begun to eat more salt to make sure my heart pumps blood to my eyes. I have once again made an effort to reach out to others to connect and not shut myself into my tower of protection.

And as I hang the laundry, once again, on the line I think about how my intention to build habits needs to be reinstalled… like failing software. Shut down the entire system. Then reboot and reinstall.

It is not like a war. The ground I am conquering is not myself. I am not a foreign country that needs harrowing and rebuilding. I am a garden. And weeding frequently, with love and conscious attention is working. Softly on the ground. Softly, softly on the ground.

Why Does It Keep Happening?

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I spend my mornings after I have prepared the house for guests seeking wisdom by listening to wonderful teacher. The lesson today is that we have established circuitry of thoughts and feelings.

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So the old story is actually embedded in our brains… the neurological patterns that limit our manner of process information comes from our childhood experiences.
The story of losing, anxiety, not enough time, not enough money, fear of damage… are all laid down much like roadways that we run upon.
It is why meditation, mindfulness and writing is so important in order to allow us to first see the old rutted highways.

all about the circuitry

Then like a wise developer of our own lives… we need to understand what the new pathway should look like for us to have a calm, satisfying and compassionate existence:
1. See it clearly. know how your being stuck is just a protective device left over from under the age of seven. The voice you hear in your head is “the protector” that tries to keep you from harm. But now, you are an adult not a child. You in the present are your own best guardian.
2. Be gentle with your stuckness, with that cycling through the same problem again and again. It is for a reason… it is so that you can learn and grow stronger.
3. Be very clear about how you intend to process information in the future:….I will see every moment as this moment and not as something to throw away.
4. Then begin to work with your body… how it works. Be very clear about only attempting baby steps for a new habit. All growth is through creating habits. Habits create new neurological pathways. Be very clear that what you are seeing is basically a lie (a left over story from your past) and set your intention to see the truth about life.
5. Now do the actions that are needed to build the new processing system in your brain without expectation of immediate success. Know it will work. You can change it.
First truth     1. We are each of us perfect. There is nothing wrong with you.
Second truth 2. Your connection to each experience creates your feelings about that experience.
Third truth    3. There is no failure. There is only learning. There is only growing.
Fourth truth  4. Every sadness, every anger, every sense of failure is not about now and never has been. Now…is an open field of exploration; of possibilities; of unlooked for joy.

rebuild the brain

We shut ourselves down… we shut the world down when we turn off the lights and then say it is dark. But we like the feeling. We like the victim. We like the self abuse because we are used to it. Society also rewards us when we sing the victim song. We get attention. People like to feed off of our sadness. They gather around.
We think being miserable somehow protects us from being really, really miserable.
So working on your circuitry and rebuilding your neurons… is the only way out.
It is not something you do after you have sacrificed the goat of hard work; after you have climbed the mountain of martyrdom; after you have gotten everyone in the village to bless you because you are so “nice”.
It is first. Working on your way of processing information is always the only real long term solution to old problems.
You have a relationship with your problems. It is an interaction. Look at them and ask: “why are you here?” “What are you trying to teach me?”

all in the brain

Be gentle with them and with yourself. And draw up a new development plan. Start working on your circuitry. You have everything to gain.

Where Am I, I?

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Since May time has been a bullet train to some outside force decided destination. I have the business to run. And being so much further up the mountain, I have the wisdom to know when the heat of summer arises I need to “cool my jets”.

The thirty minutes break in the afternoon laying under the strange Tardis looking free standing air conditioner is the only thing between me and the type of dementia that would send me clawing off all of my clothing and running into the street yelling, “I don’t understand. I don’t understand.”

Lately the unsolved technological problems have begun to be like a strange purple itchy erruption on my skin. There are so many spots of it and no matter how assiduously I ignore it, it is distracting and irritating.

So I put on my big girl panties, or my old lady drawers or some such metaphor meaning I covered up vulnerable areas carefully, and went after the problems.

I got my new cell phone to connect to my house wifi with the help of only two tech wizards. One referred me to the next one.

Now emboldened, I contacted a second IPower tech. The first one told me to do several things that simply flummoxed me.

I kindly told him, “I have reached my level of optimum frustration. I don’t understand anything you are saying. I am going to go away now.”

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(Notice how I snuck in my Red Bubble store in that paragraph).

So I was like a warrior with two heads in a pile and was ready to kill another enemy freaking frustration. I got the Ipower tech on the line and learned how to empty my cache and cookies. I felt renewed.

At that point my Paypal went down and I don’t even know how I managed to get CPR on that system to get it back on its feet.

Craving more power… I contacted a local video school to ask for a student to solve my WTF is happening when I load my photo booth video clipped to the wonderful intro a friend made for me. The two connected in IMovie.0.0.9 just smush the video blog and it looks like Cybil Shepherd’s scenes in Moonlighting. There is vaseline on the lense.

The sense that there are times of growth and times of maintenance is strong. Learning to attend to new challenges is not something I embrace. My strength is in the super self-discipline of doing what must be done. So, really, when I define myself by what I do or can do, it is erroneous.

I just never know. Very much. At all.

Control is Not Controlling

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As I sat at breakfast with a talented dancer and yoga teacher, I enjoyed her presence, the sun on the patio and not so much the big white dog licking my butt between the iron boundary fence.

seeing flow

I am so entwined with work, discipline and control issues that I have to be skilled and respectful. Removing some of the ties to my usual method of living has to be done with a surgeon’s care. Issues that came up when she asked me to breakfast were deeply set into my habit mind like some glistening stone.

She is a dancer and does not have a lot of money. She has to work hard, travel and squeeze out survival by being a gypsy hustler. Intentionally dismissing these thoughts I remembered that it is my wholeness that allows me to accept gifts, love, care and help.

Being in control is exhausting and ultimately cruel to others. Can I grow my spirit enough to simply rest in the present without making it some kind of reality game where in I keep track of who holds the greatest power? So often, I have paid for others, I have helped people to move from one place to another, I have given free coaching advice, given away clothing. And down down down in the deepest darkness I have come to realize it is a bribe. It is a “Please love me” bribe.

The greatest attachment wound I carry is that I believed for decades that I was not loveable. And with that metal flack jacket over my heart, I have protected myself from injury. Or so I thought.

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As she watched the home made cinnamon buns rising in the over to take with her on her journey to the south, she told me her truth.

“You never let anybody close to you. You never see people trying to help you. You are constantly proving you are strong, independent and have no time for trivialities like friendship.”

After she left, that observation stayed with me. I wasn’t able to heal or solve the problem at that time… but it was like a first injection of the cure. It took more experiences, more failures, more heartbreaks to come to a place where I understood that I alone was keeping the bitter plant of “not being loveable” alive where my heart should be.

With the constant flow of people through my house staying at my bed and breakfast, I have been exposed to much joy. I make the beds with the intention of providing a clean, calm healing space for people. But it is not an adrenaline driven attempt to compensate. It is sufficient to smooth down the sheets, to put a small bouquet of flowers on their night stand.

And I am able to let more energy in. I pick up the money and thank the person in my mind. I touch the little note the couple has left me and think of how beautiful they are. I put the present someone left me in front of my Buddha on my altar. And as I sit at breakfast with a beautiful, strong dance professional, I think that I am finally learning that trying to control, measure and monitor the exchange of love is a mugs’ game.

We are in an energy dance and sometimes I lift up others and sometimes they lift me up. The choreography is perfect.