acceptance

Liberating Sacred Cows

By Brother Ivar Like many of us, there are times when I wish I had a little more control over a situation. I always thought I had a lot of patience, but now I am finding out what a shallow base that patience had, because the condition for it was many years of living as a bachelor. The only being that I had to agree with was a fairly lovable dog. Now, living in the context of a diverse, multicultural community at Plum Village, it sometimes seems my capacity to let go is stretched to the breaking point. And that is just the point, because what is breaking is my resistance to accepting things as they are, my ego's will to have control over things.

In October, Thay spoke about cows, not the ones wandering the streets of Calcutta, but the ones wandering the pathways of our mind which we sometimes call our "sacred cows." He suggested that we look into ourselves to find out what our sacred cow is-a responsibility, an expectation, a compelling idea, a motivating force, a condition we think our happiness is contingent upon but which may be an obstacle to our happiness and take our freedom away if we let it. Most of us probably have these cows at the feeding troughs of our mind, feeding on our freedom.

The fattest cow I have is my resistance to accepting things as they are. This acceptance is much different from the resignation for which some might mistake it. Now, when I accept conditions, I am letting go of my desire to control events that I have no need or ability to control. My perception had been that controlling certain events would make me happy. As Thay has said, in 60, 100, or 300 years, the conditions I think are so important will amount to a hill of beans. I'm also realizing how requiring these conditions for my happiness creates a prison of my own making and causes my mind to be at war with itself. As I let go of these false conditions for my happiness, I simultaneously try to take refuge in "what's not wrong" as Thay has suggested. I try to see "the beautiful and wholesome things in the environment, breathe the fresh air, and enjoy the miracle of walking on this earth." This has been a true source of liberation and joy for me.

This is not a docile acceptance of absolutely everything life puts on my plate. As the newly revised Ninth Mindfulness Training suggests, "We will do our best to speak out about situations of injustice, even when doing so may threaten our safety." But how does one know when to come forward and when to step aside, when to speak out and when to bow your head and let the universe unfold, however it may? Robert Aitken Roshi and Brother David Steindl-Rast coauthored a delightful book called The Ground We Share. In it, they touch on this question quite eloquently. Aitken Roshi suggested looking at the word "willful" as "full of will. In other words, full of my own will, full of myself." Brother David writes that he likes "to make a distinction between one's own will and self-will. The only power that can overcome self-will is one's own will. Our own will is to be built up and made strong. It is our willingness, not our willfulness, that we want to cultivate through practice." When we have enough clarity to listen and look at a situation with the ears and eyes of our heart, then we can approach the situation with compassion instead of adversity, and have a clearer understanding of an appropriate course of action.

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My practice here at Plum Village has helped me experience the distinction that Brother David is talking about and begin to free myself from my will's agenda so I can be available for my "appointment with life." In the meantime, when I occasionally open the gate to let the cow out of that pasture in my mind, I can smile and know that everything will be okay as long as I give life permission to live me.

Brother Ivar, Phap Tri, lives in Plum Village. He was ordained as a monk in 1996.

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Opening Our Hearts

By Joan Halifax The breath practice of Giving and Receiving develops our compassion and our ability to be present for our own suffering and the suffering of others. It is a practice of lovingkindness that opens up our whole being to the overwhelming presence of suffering and to our strength and willingness to transform suffering into peace and well-being. It is one of the richest and bravest practices we can do with people who are dying.

We begin the practice with a heart committed to helping others, to being with suffering and dying. When we look deeply, we see that to help others, we must relate with kindness toward our own suffering. To deny our suffering is to close off our hearts to what we and others experience. If we touch our suffering with awareness and love, Giving and Receiving becomes a practice of transformation. To see the possibility that we and others can be free from suffering is to see our own vast, good, and tender heart.

When I sit with a dying person, I must see beyond individual suffering. I must look from a place in myself that includes suffering but is bigger than suffering. I must look from a heart so big it holds everything. Can I see her suffering and her great heart as well? Can I see his true nature, who he really is, deeper than the story?

The practice of Giving and Receiving asks us to invite in all of our suffering and the suffering of others, and let them break open our untrusting and protected heart. When my heart breaks open by being deeply touched by suffering, its tender spaciousness becomes the ground for the awakening of selfless mercy. With an open heart, we cannot help but send all of our love and kindness to one who is suffering.

To begin the practice, you want to feel relaxed and open. You can sit in meditation posture, relax in a chair, or lie down. Gently close your eyes and let your body and mind settle. You want your mind to be clear, calm, and spacious. If you feel agitated, angry, or afraid, breathe in whatever you are feeling, accepting it. On your exhalation, breathe out peacefulness and well-being. Clear your mind by bringing your awareness to what is agitating you and accepting it with kindness. Do this breath practice until you are calm and alert.

When you are calm and clear, you can begin the second stage of the practice. For some people who have never done this before, it will seem counter-intuitive, because it involves working with the breath in an unusual way.

You begin by breathing in hot, dark, heavy, polluted smoke-suffering. On your exhalation, you breathe out a breath that is light, cool, and fresh. Breathe not only through your nose, but through your whole body. On your in-breath, dark smoke enters every pore of your body. On your outbreath, coolness flows from every pore of your body. Stay in this rhythmic pattern of inhaling dark smoke and exhaling cool, light breath.

Next, visualize a metal sheath around your heart. This sheath is your self-importance, your selfishness, your self-cherishing, your self-pity, all the fearful contradictions that are difficult for you to accept. It is the fear that hardens to protect your heart. The practice invites you to break apart the metal sheath around your heart, to open your heart to its natural nonjudgmental state of warmth, kindness, and spaciousness. Visualize the metal sheath breaking apart when the in-breath of suffering touches it. When the heart opens, the smoke dissolves immediately, vanishing into the great spaciousness of your true and vast heart, and natural mercy arises. The quality of mercy in your vast heart allows you to be with suffering and at the same time, to see beneath the suffering. This is your awakened heart.

You have now touched the initial elements of the practice: calming and opening the mind, accomplishing the rhythm and texture of the breath practice, visualizing the metal sheath around your heart and the sheath breaking open, the spontaneous appearance of the vast heart of mercy, the disappearance of the smoke into space, and the out-breath of healing. Remember that you are doing this practice because you and others are suffering, and you wish with all your heart that all beings may be free from suffering.

You want to care, genuinely care. This wish cannot be general; it needs to be very specific, personal, and authentic. When the Tibetan teacher Trungpa Rinpoche practiced Giving and Receiving, he remembered a puppy he had seen when he was eight years old. The puppy was being stoned to death, and the people killing it were laughing. He would have done anything to relieve the dog of its suffering. Whenever he thought of the puppy, his heart broke open. The memory of this helpless little creature was a key that helped him practice with commitment, resolve, and love.

Bring to mind someone to whom you feel a deep connection, whether this being is dead or alive, someone who is suffering, not a being whose life is all grace, but someone who really has suffered and whom you wish to help be free from suffering. Let your whole being tum toward this one's suffering and wish that he or she may be healed. If this is difficult for you, tum toward your own situation. You are also suffering.

I ask you to breathe through your whole body your own suffering, your own alienation, or the suffering of your beloved as heavy, polluted, hot smoke. The instant that the in-breath of suffering touches the metal sheath of selfcenteredness around your heart, the sheath breaks apart and your heart opens to the suffering. The hot smoke of suffering instantly vanishes into the great space of your heart, and from this space arises an out-breath of mercy and healing. Send a deep, cool, healing breath to this other being or to yourself. Let the out-breath flow through every pore in your body. From the vastness of your open heart, breathe out mercy and love.

If you feel resistant, call yourself back to the practice. Remember that this practice can be done on every breath you take, every breath you give. Cultivate the details, the craft of this practice.

After you have practiced Giving and Receiving with yourself or one you love, let go of the image of that person. As you do, keep breathing in the dark smoke of universal suffering and breathing out healing. Then, let the visualization become particular again. Take your attention to the parent with whom you had the most difficulty-whether dead or alive, foster parent, or whoever raised you with whom you had the greatest difficulty. See them sitting before you.

Maintaining the rhythm of the hot, smoky in-breath and cool, light out-breath, consider how this one and you have suffered. For a minute, internally raise your eyes to this one and look at him or her. Let yourself slowly and mindfully examine the face and hair. Then, very simply gaze internally into the eyes of this parent with whom you have a problem. If this is difficult it may help to look at a mental photograph. See the wear on his face. See how her life has been full of disappointment and frustration. Maybe she was afraid. Maybe he was numb. See if you can allow yourself to be in touch with the difficulties of this parent. Perhaps you experience anger, disappointment, or heartbreak while looking at this parent. Let yourself feel whatever comes up. Imagine your parent as a five-year-old child. See his or her face fresh and open, full of anticipation. If it is difficult for you to see your parent this way, please notice the resistance that may be there. Resistance is all right. Breathe in the resistance, breathe out acceptance, spaciousness, warmth, and relief. If your parent is still alive, remember that he or she will die one day.

Remember your sincere wish at the beginning of this practice that the friend on whom you focused would be free of suffering. Breathe in blanleless suffering as dark smoke. Remember your parent as you last saw him or her. Let the dark smoke of suffering break open the sheath of hardness around your heart. On your out-breath, send all of your strength, understanding, caring, and love to your parent. Give it away with an open heart so that this one may be healed, so that suffering will be transformed.

This practice can also be applied to your own life. Turn your heart and mind toward your own situation. Breathe in your suffering and let it break open the sheath around your heart. Let your own vast heart open to who you really are. Breathing out, send clarity and space to your whole being. Heal yourself. You have the power in you to come home to the vast and true nature of who you really are. If you are a Christian or Jew, you might say, "I want to come home to God." What separates you from God is the hardness around your heart, the fear in your heart. Breathe in the hot smoke of suffering from separation from God. Let it dissolve the hardness around your heart and disappear. What is left is love. All suffering disappears into the vastness. Breathing out, send a cool breath of radiant healing to yourself and come home to God. In your exhalation is the breath of spirit, the goodness of God bringing you home.

The practice of Giving and Receiving helps us get in touch with the obstacles that prevent us from understanding and caring. Through our own experience with suffering and the development of an atmosphere of openness toward it, we can begin to accept and be with the suffering of others in a more open, kind, and understanding way. Our difficult personal experiences are the bridge that leads us to compassion. We do not reject difficulties. Rather, we meet them exactly where they are. We cannot prevent suffering or death. We simply try to meet it, accept it, and find mercy in it.

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Dharma teacher Joan Halifax, True Continuation, leads the Sangha at Upaya in Santa Fe, New Mexico. She is an anthropologist, leads retreats on death and dying and other issues, and has written a number of books. This article is excerpted from herforthcoming book, Being with Dying, to be published by Shambhala Publications in late 1999.

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Coming Together to Realize Our True Home

By Karl and Helga Riedl Sangha is some times defined as "the community that lives in harmony and awareness." Community is one important aspect of a Sangha. Sangha can be a beautiful way to live with like-minded people, to share our responsibilities, happiness, and pains with friends in the Dharma. A Sangha supports our endeavor to live in awareness. We feel at home. We are nourished, and given the space and help to heal our wounds and transform our suffering.

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But when we look deeper into Sangha, when we are living in it for a longer time, we realize that the real aim of a Sangha is much more. It is the process-at times, quite demanding and challenging-of transforming our whole being. What looks like a lifestyle is actually the expression of a spiritual life. True Sangha offers an environment for spiritual growth-relaxed and gentle, but deep and thorough!

To build such a Sangha-and not just a community one needs to understand which "building blocks" are needed, look deeply into the ways a Sangha works, and be very aware which motivations the members ought to have. Out of our experience of living in the Plum Village Sangha for six years, we would like to share what we have found to be the main principles of a residential Sangha.

Commitment

True commitment reflects our deep aspiration to walk on the path of transformation and liberation, and to question the life we have led-with all our ideas, concepts, and desires- and the ways we secure our ego through wealth, fame, knowledge, and position. It is the heartfelt desire to submit ourselves to a life where "being" is more important than "having," where the loneliness of egoism and its restrictive ways of seeing and experiencing are opened up to others and to life as it presents itself. Commitment is the joyful willingness to let go of our concepts, to expose ourselves in the process of dissolving our existential ignorance and coming back to our true home.

Commitment means to being involved, not holding back anything. This is often seen as "giving up oneself' and accompanied with hesitation and fear. So it is safer, more familiar to us, to be a participant only, to basically keep our concepts and ideas and just add to that whatever feels "good" to us. Living in a Sangha is then seen as an opportunity to acquire new knowledge, to receive a training, and solve some personal psychological problems. We need to be aware of this pseudo-commitment.

Surrender

To let the process of transformation happen, we need to "surrender to the Sangha," as Thay has often emphasized. This is to surrender to the practice-wholeheartedly, with all our conviction and joy-and to surrender to the activities of the Sangha. Surrender is easily misunderstood as obeying or letting other people run our life. It is amazing to watch the Hydra of the ego come up at every possible occasion! Angels turn into rebels. "I do it my way!" "I need ... " Soon the first enthusiasm fades and we are looking for every possibility to take a leave from the practice. Even minor details and changes on the schedule evoke angry discussion. Surrender is the spiritual practice of setting aside our ideas and goals, and opening to new experiences, to all aspects of life, to the unknown-without opposing them. Its religious form is the prostration: bowing down, opening our hands, not holding back anything.

Serving

Another expression of surrender is serving the Sangha. Serving means doing what needs to be done- setting aside likes and dislikes, me and you. To serve is to overcome our habitual attitudes towards work and responsibilities and develop our concern, care, and love for others.

Serving happens when our initial idea "I am living in a Sangha" has changed into "I am living for the Sangha." But even then, there might be some selfish motivation; some personal hidden agendas may be the driving force for our actions. Serving then is misunderstood as taking on responsibilities.

Some people feel that they alone are able to do certain things, that they must take up the burden of a specific task or even of the whole community. In due time, they get burned-out and bitter. To rely on the Sangha, to step down from self-importance and accept one's own limits does not come easily for "the doer." When serving is misunderstood as assisting the Sangha with our skills, knowledge, and energy, then positions become fixed, and members of the community are judged by their "usefulness." True serving is to experience the reality of interbeing. Everybody actually supports everybody; there is neither dependence nor independence. It is then that we realize, "I am the Sangha."

Acceptance and Harmony

Another aspect of building a true Sangha is the willingness, even the heartfelt longing, to live in harmony with others. By cultivating our abilities to accept each other just as we are, we break through our spontaneous likes and dislikes, judgments and categorizing. We create an atmosphere of trust. Supported by the practice of deep listening and sharing, we develop a spirit of openness, where understanding grows into loving acceptance.

In our Western societies, where competition, jealousy, mistrust, and separateness prevail, their opposites-trust, acceptance, openness, and love-are deeply longed for, but it can be difficult to open to them. So it is easier to create a "pseudo-harmony"-where we are just "nice" to each other, where everybody seems to accept and love everybody-by not coming too close to each other, not touching anything that could disturb the peace and by closing off to those who do not "fit."

Humility and Respect

To greet the Buddha in each other is possible only when we have dissolved separateness and tackled the threefold complex of comparing ourselves with others-"I am better-equal-lower." Only then do we glimpse true humility-not putting ourselves down, but gracefully accepting that we need not be "somebody" or extraordinary. Ordinary is sufficient! We need not hold onto an image of ourselves or be caught in social status. If we give a Dharma talk, we sit on a platform, and if a driver is needed, we carry the luggage of a guest.

Now, from the depth of our being, we can show respect to ourselves and others. This respect is the foundation of a peaceful life. But, respect is not imposed on us as social hierarchy. We do not pay respect to a social position, but to a human being. We learn from others, follow their example, and listen to their advice, because we deeply honor and respect their having matured on the path. We accept others as "elders."

mb24-Coming2 Again, in a society where competition and mistrust prevail, where everybody makes sure that nobody is  "higher," even respect and trust are suspect. The "elder principle"-found in almost all spiritual traditions and at the core, a "maturity principle"-is rejected without any consideration. And that is an obstacle for building a spiritual community-a Sangha. Either a "pseudo-community" is created and maintained, or power games and "boss-hierarchy" consume all energy. Especially in Western societies we need to look deeply into this situation, and with the help of the Sangha, find ways to restore respect and based on that respect-the "elder-maturity-principle."

Each of these principles is in itself a door for entering the Sangha. As all these principles are interrelated, if one is practiced deeply, the others are strengthened. But if a Sangha member has a problem or a misunderstanding in  even one area, the whole process of spiritual growth for the person-and to some extent for the whole Sangha-is disturbed, maybe even blocked. So it is important to be very clear about the working of a Sangha, to avoid disappointments and suffering and to build a harmonious and happy Sangha.

Dharma teachers Karl and Helga Riedl, True Communion and True Loving Kindness, recently moved to the newly established Intersein Zentrum in Germany. Please don't hesitate to contact them. Please write to receive an Intersein Zentrum schedule. Intersein Zentrum fur Leben in Achtsamkeit, Haus Maitreya, Unterkashof 2 1/3, 94545 Hohenau, Germany. They are very happy to share their experiences and insight.

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Healing With Chronic Illness Practicing Mindfulness of the Body

Jane  Brockman When I was first diagnosed with chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia several years ago, I had no idea what a long and difficult road lay ahead of me. At times, when feeling exhausted of every ounce of energy, unable to absorb food, and vulnerable to every kind of illness, I questioned whether it was worth going on. Always, I came back to believing that it was. As I began to direct my energy towards healing, mindfulness become an integral part of my journey back to health. I soon realized that in order to truly heal, it would be necessary to bring a deep attention and awareness to every aspect of my life, not only on the physical level, but on the spiritual and emotional levels as well.

I began to be more mindful of the foods I ingested and tend better to the messages my body was giving me. I developed a deeper awareness about my thought patterns, moved towards work that was more in line with my true self and became aware of what brought me joy each day. Deepening my practice of mindfulness has been one of the unexpected gifts of my illness. It has helped me to cope in times when I didn’t think I could go on.

Honoring my Body

First I began to implement major changes to my diet. I’ve always considered myself to be a fairly healthy eater, but I now practice a much deeper level of mindful consumption, as Thay encourages us all to do in the Fifth Mindfulness Training. Over time, I’ve developed a heightened level of awareness concerning the foods I’m allergic to and how my body feels after eating them. Now I can tell almost immediately if my body doesn’t like something. I’ve eliminated many of my favorite foods, as well as sugar, caffeine, wheat, dairy and alcohol. This has demanded an enormous amount of discipline. At first, I thought I’d go crazy without these foods. Yet, as time has gone on, it’s become easier for me to be completely without these substances. I now understand the importance of listening and honoring my body. Breathing in, I honor my body. Breathing out, I smile to my body.

Honoring my body has also meant no longer pushing myself beyond what my strength allows and giving myself permission to rest when necessary. Doing this has been extremely difficult, as I’ve always been an over-achiever and a perfectionist. My illness, however, no longer allows me to live this way. I have had to let things slide. The house doesn’t get cleaned as often. The garden doesn’t get planted. I have to rely on my partner for assistance with the cooking and shopping more. I sleep a lot. I rest a lot. Last year, I stopped working. At times, it has felt like everything is falling apart. My lesson has been to learn to be okay with this and to let go of trying to do everything. It hasn’t been easy, but I know that I’m doing the best I can. Even for those who are healthy, it can be quite liberating to come to terms with being good enough rather than trying to be perfect all the time. As we place a higher priority on our peace of mind than on getting everything done, the result can often be a deeper, more meaningful experience of our lives, our relationships and of ourselves.

Receiving and Letting Go

A most challenging lesson for me throughout this journey has been to practice the art of receiving. At times when I was so incapacitated or when I deeply needed emotional support, it’s been extremely difficult for me to ask others for help. I was raised in a family who valued independence and self-sufficiency and relying on others was not looked upon favorably. Learning to ask for help and to receive from the Universe has been a new lesson. The constant love and support of a caring partner has been a tremendous blessing. I have learned to cultivate a broader network of support—friends and healers who assist me in my journey, including others dealing with chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia. I have also sought out those who have reversed their conditions and brought about their own healing. This has been a source of inspiration and strength for me.

While holding out hope for healing, I have become deeply aware of the importance of surrendering to and accepting my illness. At first, the two seemed contradictory. How could I practice acceptance on one hand and at the same time, work towards healing? As time has passed, I see that I can do both. I see how important it is to be present with what is and to accept fully what is happening in the moment. At the same time I hold a clear image of how I’d like to be. Only in blending the two can I be free.

As I work to practice acceptance, I have certainly felt my share of anger at being sick. There have been times when I felt rage at the limitations I have to deal with because of my illness. I’ve learned that it’s okay to get angry sometimes. In Being Peace Thay tells us to treat our anger with “care, love, tenderness and nonviolence.” The first step is developing an awareness of the anger, according to Thay. We cannot destroy the energy of anger, he points out, yet we can work to convert it to a more constructive energy, like forgiveness, understanding or love. In my own healing journey, I have found that by allowing the anger to surface and by staying with it, I’m eventually able to come to a place of deeper peace and tranquility.

Imagery and Exercise

The use of meditation and imagery has helped enhance my overall sense of peace and tranquility. Guided meditation tapes have become an important part of my daily practice, as lying down is sometimes all I can manage to do. I’ve developed a small collection of tapes which help to release tension in my body and help me to cultivate more positive thought patterns. They have also helped me discover some profound insights and awarenesses about my life and about changes that I need or want to make. In the beginning, I often felt resentful about having to stop in the middle of my day to rest and listen to these tapes. Now,

I look forward to this time of the day. It has become a sacred ritual, a time for quiet and reflection when I can renew and restore, stop, rest and practice mindfulness.

Recently, my intuition has led me to seek out forms of exercise and body-centered therapies which help to balance the mind-body system like yoga, Feldenkrais and T’ai chi. My body has gently given me the message that an increased measure of energy flow would be of much benefit and would assist in my overall feelings of well-being and health.  Slowly, I am learning to cultivate a deeper awareness of what is happening in  my body in the present moment, sensing into it and asking myself, “How are you feeling right now?”

Sometimes I feel tense, sometimes afraid, sometimes uncomfortable. Next I can proceed to address the messages that my body is giving me, asking myself such questions as: Do I need to set a deadline for an important decision in my life so that my body can relax? Do I need to cut back on my work to balance my life more? Do I need to change the way I react to stress in my life? This practice of having a conversation with my body helps me to anchor myself more in the moment and feel less disassociated from my body.

I’ve begun to look at my professional life with a deeper level of awareness and questioning. I have asked myself: Am I feeling weighted down by the work I am doing? I am also developing more awareness about the kinds of the people I surround myself with. A natural extension of my desire to heal myself has been to seek out individuals who reflect a positive attitude in the world and who also believe in the innate ability of the body to heal itself. About a year ago, I discovered a wonderful naturopath who practices medicine from the standpoint of listening to and following the body’s implicit intelligence. More and more, I have come to trust my intuition when pondering the next stage of healing.

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Cultivating Joy

Perhaps one of the most important developments I’ve made during my healing process has been the ability to cultivate a deeper awareness about what brings joy to each day of my life and discovering more ways to bring these activities into my day.   At a workshop I attended recently entitled Getting Well Again, a fellow workshop participant shared how important it had been for her to bring more fun into her days. She would frequently ask herself, “Am I having fun? Am I enjoying myself?” I now allow more space in my life for those  activities  which bring me joy and nurture my spirit—like creative activities, reading, being in nature, spending time with friends, yoga and meditation. Each day I pose the question to myself— What will truly bring joy to this day?   And generally, when I’ve  taken time to do joyful activities which nurture in a deep way, I find that I’m able to bring more joy to others and to the rest of the world.

Living mindfully with chronic illness has been one of the most difficult challenges of my life. It has been a long and patient journey towards greater overall health and aliveness, a journey marked by many highs and lows as well as a lot of tears. Yet, my journey has not been without its gifts, and I acknowledge these rich blessings with deep gratitude and awareness. I now see what is truly important in life. I am more mindful of how my thoughts and reactions to things affect the health of my body, and I consciously strive to hold more positive mental formations. I give myself permission to rest more. I’m okay with being good enough instead of having to be perfect. And I’m more mindful about what brings joy to each day. As I continue to incorporate mindfulness into more areas of my life, I am watering seeds of peace, joy, freedom and love within myself and within those who surround me.

Jane Brockman lives with her partner, radio personality Eric Alan, and practices with the Community of Mindful Living in Ashland, Oregon.

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Book Reviews

mb35-BookReviews2New version of the UK Practice Manual Reviewed by Kate Atchley, Vow of True Virtue

The UK Manual of Practice has been recently revised. The Manual is a valuable resource for anyone who follows Thay’s teachings.

After an introduction, detailed guidance on many aspects of the practice is offered, including the Daily Practices, the Mindfulness Trainings, the Touchings of the Earth, planning and facilitating a Day of Mindfulness, and even a Tree-Planting Ceremony. Beginners will find explanations of the Dharma and mindfulness practice; experienced practitioners will find texts and advice to support their Sangha activities.

With Internet access, you may download all or some of the Manual at http://www.interbeing.org.uk. If you experience technical difficulties, please e-mail technica.help@interbeing.org.uk. Updating of sections will be done from time to time. Please send any suggested changes to manual.editor@interbeing.org.

Mac users can download the manual in:

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The Essential Spiral Ecology and Consciousness After 9-11

By Ian Prattis University Press of America, 2002

Book Review by David Percival

This is a remarkably personal, honest, and passionate trip into the mindless violent world we have created, and an offering of how, through meditation and mindfulness practice, we can change ourselves and our world. With clarity and vision Ian Prattis illustrates that what the Buddha realized 2,600 years ago is directly applicable to our current quest for peace and justice.

Thich Nhat Hanh’s presence is in this book through numerous references to his teachings and writings. Prattis’s multidisciplinary approach covers everything from deep listening, problems of unmindful consumption, and

the global ecological crisis to globalization. The final chapter is a moving discussion of the Five Mindfulness Trainings as ethical guidelines for people of all faiths. Also included are ten mindfulness meditations, offered for the reader to practice. A comprehensive bibliography ends each chapter.

The Essential Spiral is a bold, no-holds-barred application of Buddhist practices to both our personal lives and to our world. Prattis is deeply committed to his personal mindfulness practice and his writing reflects his honesty and integrity. He uses many wonderful stories and anecdotes, often from his own life. He appeals to us all, Christian, Jew, Moslim, or Buddhist, to develop our own mindfulness practice based on the Five Mindfulness Trainings.

I am concerned that his somewhat academic style and direct Buddhist approach will lessen the book’s appeal to a broader audience. It needs to be read by people not familiar with Buddhism.

To some readers, Prattis may seem to propose radical practices and methods. Yet, if we truly want to transform the violence, anger, hatred, and despair that are in us and in our world, his prescriptions do not seem radical at all. We desperately need a “Consciousness Revolution grounded in mindfulness practice.” What would happen if we, as a nation, could stop, breathe, and really look deeply at the causes of violence and terrorism? What would the world be like if we really practiced the Five Mindfulness Trainings? This would be the revolution and transformation we are searching for. As Prattis says, “all that is required is that you do it now.”

mb35-BookReviews3The Practice of Wholeness Spiritual Transformation in Everyday Life

By Lorena Monda Golden Flower Publications

Book Review by Barbara Casey

Lorena Monda is a Doctor of Oriental Medicine, psychotherapist, Hakomi trainer, and Order of Interbeing member. The Practice of Wholeness reflects her insight from these varied commitments. In the introduction, she states, “It is practice that is at the heart of transformation.” Unlike many texts that offer philosophies about the world and our lives, Lorena takes us on a practical, exploratory journey, offering guided meditations and daily exercises to help us come to a greater place of wholeness within ourselves.

Before writing this book, Lorena asked, “What do people who make core changes in their lives do that other people don’t?” This became the basis for the teachings she offers. A gentle and clear guide, Lorena helps us learn to accept our bodies, emotions, thoughts, attitudes and beliefs, longings and aspirations.

We learn to come to peace with our humanness, and with the unknown. As we move through this process, we gain a greater ability to invoke wholeness, and to give it creative expression in everything we do. Individuals, couples, families, and even communities will find this book an invaluable resource for learning to live in harmony through simple, new ways to connect with the wisdom and compassion—the Buddha nature—within each of us.

Barbara Casey is an editor of the Mindfulness Bell.

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Mindfulness in a State Psychiatric Hospital

By Bruce L. Hilsberg Bruce Hilsberg passed away on March 29, 2005; you may read an essay by his wife Karen in issue 39 of the Mindfulness Bell.

When I first became a student of Thich Nhat Hanh over ten years ago, I never thought that my personal interest in meditation, mindfulness practice, and the dharma would become an essential part of my work as a psychologist at a state psychiatric hospital.

I had practiced mindfulness with my wife in the tradition of Thich Nhat Hanh, attended days of mindfulness with Thay when he visited California, and participated in meditation classes and dharma discussions with a local Order of Interbeing teacher. Over time, I have taught mindfulness techniques to some of the patients in my private practice to help them find relief from symptoms including insomnia, depression, substance abuse, eating disorders, relationship difficulties, manic depression, and anxiety. Still, my mindfulness practice felt compartmentalized. In the context of working at the state hospital, I still subscribed to the medical model of illness and disease in which I had been trained. During work, I contemplated curing mental illnesses and reducing symptoms rather than seeing individuals as people with strengths and a desire to build on these.

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But all that changed last year, when an outside consultant was brought in to help improve the state hospital where I had worked for over eleven years. It just so happened that this consultant, who served many state psychiatric hospitals in the United States, had cultivated a Soto Zen Buddhist practice and had integrated mindfulness training into his work. When the consultations with our hospital began, I found a door through which I could enter to begin integrating my personal and professional beliefs and practices. This is the story of my journey this past year and a half.

Our system at the state hospital has watered many seeds of negative habit energy over the past decades, resulting in problems that need new solutions. For example, the system encountered difficulties in accurately diagnosing and properly treating individuals with serious and persistent mental illnesses. With the help of our consultant we are moving in the direction of systemic change for the betterment of the people connected to the hospital: administrators, staff, individuals with psychiatric disabilities, family members and the community.

From the Medical Model to the Recovery Model

One of the first methods we are using is stopping and looking deeply at ourselves and each other. While we are well aware of changes that we would like to see, part of my practice has become to accept that I am where I need to be in this moment and the hospital too is where it needs to be. Sangha building has also been a very important part of the process. We are forming connections with each other to support mindfulness in our work environment so that we can embody the practice and then bring the fruits of our practice to the hospital and the people with whom we work. In this regard, we have struggled to get out of “automatic pilot” and instead to recognize our habits, realize what we are thinking and doing, and look deeply so that we can make better choices for ourselves. In turn, we can help others to make better choices for themselves. This forms the basis of a new model of treatment for mental disorders called the recovery model.

In the recovery model, we think about individuals—what helps them and what hinders them in their lives. We talk about choices and empowerment. In the same way that Thay talks about our store consciousness with our positive and healthy seeds as well as our negative and unhealthy seeds, the recovery model sees individuals as having seeds of strength and seeds of weakness. In the old medical model, we might have asked, “Why was the individual so ill? How can we treat and cure his illness?” Now with the recovery model, we ask, “How did the individual sustain herself in the face of her illness? How can I help support her strengths and help her to recognize and water her own seeds of health, growth and well-being?” We now focus on conducting strengths-based conversations with them instead of routine diagnostic work-ups (though accurate diagnoses are still considered very important).

The research that is now emerging in the field of psychology indicates that mindfulness training is an incredibly effective treatment for many people suffering from psychiatric disorders such as chronic depression and obsessive compulsive disorder. The treatment does not necessarily make the disorder completely vanish, but it can empower individuals to manage their symptoms effectively, to discontinue negative cycles of thought and behavior, and to lead more adaptive and contented lives outside of hospitals and in the community. Furthermore, many individuals with psychiatric disabilities have benefited from mindfulness training as they learn to change the relationship they have with the symptoms of their illness and to feel a sense of control in their lives.

What Mindfulness Looks Like

Over the past year and a half, as I have been mentored by our consultant, my own mindfulness practice has deepened immensely. At work, I try not to operate on automatic pilot anymore. I don’t see events as meaningless. I see the importance of my speech and my actions, and I appreciate that all I have right now is the present moment and my own presence in the moment. I spend a great deal of time in meetings, and my behavior at meetings has changed. I’ve become more present in the meetings. I recognize that while there is a lot to do, what I am doing in the moment is what I need to be doing right now. I listen deeply to others’ speech, I don’t interrupt others, and I breathe mindfully. I realize that my list of things to do does not control me. I practice non-attachment to outcomes happening within a certain arbitrary period of time. I understand that I do not need to balance my time, but to find balance in my life. I realize that my list of things to do is there to assist me in seeing what needs to be done and what my priorities are, but that is all. I feel a sense of acceptance in my work of what is. Just as in my life, rather than feeling that I need to chase after a goal, buy something, or accomplish something to feel better, I am just being in acceptance of what is.

At work, I have begun to offer a weekly meditation group for members of the hospital staff. For the last couple of months, every Thursday at lunchtime we sit on chairs or on the floor in the administration building and meditate together for half an hour.

Though I have attended meetings in this room for many years, now that I meditate there, I am aware of new sounds that I never heard before. For example, I am aware of the sound the clock makes as it ticks. We have core members who are present almost every week, and we also have people who come and go. The energy of the group practice is becoming strong, and after the practice we discuss our experiences together in a spirit of acceptance, understanding, and lack of judgment.

One thing I dream of is a time when these practices will be so much a part of the institution that before a treatment planning meeting, the treatment team will take some mindful breaths together and set an intention for the meeting. This would help each person at the meeting to move beyond their own tendency to be on automatic pilot and to truly experience the individual as an individual, rather than seeing the purpose of the meeting as a task that must be accomplished.

In my private life, my wife and I have made a new commitment to meditate together every morning before our young children wake up as a way to support each other in the practice. We also have had wonderful opportunities to spend time at Deer Park Monastery in Escondido and to practice breathing, sitting, walking, eating and working meditation as a family with the support of the monastic Sangha. We have come to see the truth for us in the Dharma Seal, “You have arrived, you are home.” We have also recently formed a Sangha in our area to offer the practice to our family, co-workers, neighbors, and friends on a weekly basis and to seek support for our Order of Interbeing aspirant training.

To some, the changes that have happened at our hospital are remarkable and inspiring. To others, it seems that change is moving at a snail’s pace. Many people within the hospital are struggling with the changes and feel angry, resentful, or helpless. Others are embracing the changes and feel the freshness of the new approaches as they are introduced. For me, some days are full of frustrations as more entrenched problems in the system emerge into the light of day. “Breathing in, I know I feel frustration. Breathing out, I smile to my frustration and am grateful that I am alive.” Other days are exciting as new standards of care for the individuals we serve are implemented. Overall, I can say that mindfulness is now a part of my daily work life as well as my personal life. Through mindfulness training we are working to improve our hospital, the treatment practices, and the quality of life of the individuals we serve, as well as staff, administrators and family members. It has not been easy to introduce these ideas into a bureaucratic system, but my work is enormously meaningful to me now in ways that it has never been before.

Bruce L. Hilsberg, True Commitment of the Heart, was Chief of Psychology at Metropolitan State Hospital in Norwalk, California. He and his wife practiced with the Organic Garden Sangha in Culver City, California and at Deer Park Monastery in Escondido, California.

From: Spoken Like a True Buddha, an unpublished compilation of stories about mindfulness practice in everyday life, edited by Carolyn Cleveland Schena and Sharron Mendel.

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Meeting Sadaparibhuta

By Susan Hadler mb52-Meeting1

Sometimes we meet someone whose Buddha nature shines so brightly that they are like a lamp showing us the way ahead. My Aunt Elinor is that kind of luminous Buddha. She is a form of the bodhisattva Sadaparibhuta, Never Disparaging.

Elinor was sent to a mental hospital in 1936 when she was twenty-three years old and the mother of a two-year-old son and a five-month-old daughter. We know now that Elinor had postpartum psychosis, a condition that is treatable. It’s likely that Elinor recovered within several years. And yet she stayed in the mental hospital system for the rest of her life. Her husband died of a heart infection the following June and the children were raised by his sister. Elinor was abandoned by everyone in the family until it was said that she had died.

A Life in Institutions

Elinor was my mother’s oldest sister and I grew up wondering who she was and what had happened to her. Until I counted the number of grandchildren in my grandfather’s obituary, I didn’t know that she had children. When I found her married name I began to look for her, hoping to find where she was buried so that I could bring her flowers.

I searched for many years. Last year I found Elinor alive in a nursing home in Canton, Ohio. She was ninety-four years old and had spent the past seventy-two years in the mental health system, including forty-two years in the mental hospital, sixteen years in a group home, and fourteen years in the nursing home.

Even before I met her, I saw Elinor’s Buddha nature. During a phone conversation, the social worker at the nursing home told me, “Elinor calls the nurses Mother and some of them call her Mother. The others she calls Dorothy or Margery.” The social worker was surprised to learn that Dorothy and Margery were the names of her sisters.

Elinor made everyone around her into family! She embodied the quality of kshanti, all-embracing inclusiveness. As Thay explains in Peaceful Action, Open Heart: “When our heart is large enough, we can be very comfortable, we can embrace the sharp, difficult thing without injury.” Elinor taught me that if I could see everyone around me as my mother, my children, if my heart were large enough to include everyone, I would feel happy and safe and live without the burdens of judgment and fear.

 “Will You Be Kind to Me?”

The week after tracing Elinor, my husband and I drove from Washington, D.C. across the Appalachian Mountains to visit her in eastern Ohio. I immediately recognized her white hair and blue eyes, so like Mother’s. She was sitting in a wheelchair at the table eating dinner. I pulled up a chair and sat beside her. She stopped eating for a moment and looked intently at me. Then she offered to share her dinner. A little later she said, “Do you love me? Will you be kind to me? My mother loved me and she treated me like she loved me.”

“Hello, Sadaparibhuta,” I thought to myself. “You speak directly to my heart. You’ve protected and preserved your heart through the long years without family to visit or support or care for you. You know that love is the most important quality and you call forth love in me. I bow to you.”

When Elinor finished eating, she picked up her napkin, shook it out, and folded it with complete concentration. Two people who lived in the nursing home were arguing, the TV was on, a person was moaning behind us, and another person was listening to the radio. Elinor’s response was, “Quite a chorus.” In the midst of the noise and chaos, Elinor accepted the life around her just as it was and she seemed to accept herself as well. When she was tired, she folded her head into her arm and slept. When I rubbed her back too hard, she told me, “That’s awful!”

I enjoyed sitting with Elinor. I felt free to just sit and be present. There was no pressure to please or entertain or even talk. Elinor reminded me that the heart of practice is acceptance. It’s so easy to struggle against the way things are, big things like illness and death, everyday things like traffic jams and frowns. With Elinor at that moment, all was well.

Elinor put her hand on top of mine and I enjoyed the soft warmth. She had long thin fingers that could reach octaves on the piano. When Elinor was young, she was a pianist and played the piano on the radio. “I heard that you play the piano beautifully,” I said. “Yes. I do play the piano. I play Let Me Call You Sweetheart and You Are My Sunshine.”

She nurtured her spirit with music for many years. And she gave music to everyone around her. “When she first came here, she’d walk over to the piano every night after dinner and play for us.

Elinor has a lovely voice and sings often,” the nurse said with a smile. “Everyone here loves Elinor.”

Accepting What Is

How did she manage to keep her heart open and her spirit alive? She had no family. She lived without hearing her children’s laughter. She owned nothing and wore what was handed to her. She ate what was given. She lived without privacy. She wasn’t able to walk down the street for a cup of tea. She was not bitter or angry, although she did not suffer fools. Her life was not cluttered with things she didn’t need. “I don’t want anything at all,” she wrote on a sheet of lined paper clipped into a blue binder. She had little choice except how she related to herself and to those around her. She learned to live beautifully with herself and others. I take strength from the way Elinor survived so well with so little, that she kept what was most valuable — her heart and her music. She was a Buddha in her simplicity, her affection, and her sense of interbeing.

mb52-Meeting2I found the group home in which Elinor had lived for sixteen years after the mental hospitals were emptied of patients in the mid-seventies. “Yes, I remember Elinor,” said the woman who ran the home. “The day she came here she walked up the front steps and when I opened the door she held out her arms and called me Mother! She endeared herself to me ... She loved to sing!”

Elinor was my teacher. She showed me how to be aware of love, to give and receive the energy of love, to give space for love to exist and to ripen. I became aware of what cut off the flow between us, things like needless questions and extraneous comments. Elinor spoke out of her true nature and not as I might have wished or expected. That encouraged me to be less concerned about results and more aware of what was true within and around me. Elinor always responded to love and affection. “I love you,” I told Elinor. “That’s the way it should be,” she said.

mb52-Meeting3Elinor’s mother passed away suddenly when Elinor was sixteen, and her father, who could have signed her out of the hospital when she recovered from the post-partum psychosis, never came to take her home. “I love my dad,” she said. “I always will.” This too is Sadaparibhuta’s nurturing love, even in the midst of betrayal and rejection. I come from a family that tends to end relationships when pain or shame overwhelms love. When I think of Elinor, I am aware that when the seed of love has grown small or been lost in the face of fear or hurt, I can find that tiny seed, and with nurturing, it will grow strong again.

mb52-Meeting4A Family Reunited

In July I asked Elinor, “Do you have children?” “Yes,” she said. “I have two and I love them very much.” That was the permission I needed to search for her children. I was able to find them, and Elinor’s daughter and granddaughter came right away to visit her.

In January Elinor took her last breath. The weekend of her memorial service, Elinor’s family and four of my siblings met for the first time. During the service I read a passage from the Bible: “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” Tears fell as I read, knowing that Elinor was and is the love that bears all things, endures all things.

Before I began to practice, before I found the Sangha, I would have fallen into sorrow and seen Elinor’s life as an unbearable tragedy. Belonging to a Sangha that is supportive and affectionate, I am more aware of the energy of love even when it springs from the muddy ground of a life lived in a mental hospital.

Sitting with Elinor enlarged my heart. The weeds of mystery and tragedy and fear withered as Elinor watered seeds of love and simplicity and interbeing. What an amazing surprise to find that the person who the family abandoned is the one who restores our lost connections and the love that goes with them.

mb52-Meeting5Susan Hadler, True Lotus Recollection, practices with the Washington MIndfulness Community in Washington, D.C.

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