fences

This past Labor Day weekend I helped my father build a fence. He wanted to screen out a stand of junipers that over the years have become bare and unsightly, and although he did the majority of the labor, I found that I also built a fence of my own.

Unlike my father's project, mine could not be seen nor was it entirely useful. I constructed a subliminal fence meant to conceal the suffering from a negative onslaught of self examination. Things that I would rather forget or those that are too painful to live with, my critical mind uncovered and I wished to hide them. In deference to a functioning sanity, my subconscious built a fence around this deep hurt of shame and guilt. A hopeful strategy inflicting a minimal hand blister from the screwdriver of humiliation, but which soon enough is forgotten. However, underneath festers a writhing discontent rendering eventual turmoil onto the unsuspecting visible side.

And so it was this weekend. My usually adequate defenses were torn down, and faults, large and small, overwhelmed my sense of safety. The radical question "Am I looking at myself clearly and honestly?" failed to arise and a ready gainsaying of the provocations appeared to be negligent. Fast I held the gates closed, and in an exasperated resolve, vowed to build a better barrier.

Yet these fences serve only to disassociate ourselves from the true beauty we so hope to see. I wanted to screen out the internal graceless negativity leaving only a secure haven. But my freedom is not found in a separation from the pain but through the wisdom of acceptance. We can't rid ourselves of the things we don't like, these things are what make up our reality. There is always the good, the bad, and the indifferent. The problem is in ourselves and how we relate to what we're confronted with. Our strength and freedom reside not in the protective self but in the uncomfortable confusion of what is.

And this may be the subliminal message that Jesus is attempting to get across in yesterday's gospel. Of course the Christ is alluding to reconciliation of a deviant member of the group, but in effect he may also be acknowledging that all - the acceptable and the unacceptable aspects of ourselves - are part of the One. The joy lies in tearing down the fences and welcoming the undivided soul, not just the parts we find favor with. When we become friends with our Self there is a profound wholeness because nothing has to change and no new fences need to be built.

love, always,

pia

i have arrived

I was deeply concerned that I made the wrong choice this morning. I had eschewed my usual responsibilities at Church with the intention of spending the day at a local Buddhist monastery. Thich Nhat Hanh and the monks and nuns of Plum Village were scheduled to lead a Day of Mindfulness concluding their week-long Colorado retreat and I wanted to be there. However, I was alerted that he was also supposed to be teaching at Naropa and the conflict of interest had me worried that I missed an opportunity to be in the presence of such a venerable and celebrated practitioner.

I had been anticipating Thay's visit for months and despite a grave tiredness from yesterday's intensive activities at the U.S. Pro Cycling Championships, drove up to the mountain center. Convoluting a myriad of scenarios along the way - if he's not there, I'll do such and so - trying to convinced myself that whatever the outcome, it wouldn't be a waste of time. But the reality was that I had my heart set on hearing the master speak. If he was gone I would be sorely disappointed. And even though I didn't hear it in person, the morning's gospel was clearly audible in my ears.

As you may recall, Jesus had just anointed Peter as the head of the Church in last week's reading, and today, three verses following, the Christ is rebuking him for short selling the institution out. Peter has legitimate concerns of course. If the veritable teacher is gone by submitting his will unto death, then it's up to him. And Peter knows all too well that he's no savior. So he tells Jesus that this must never happen; he's got to stick around at least a little while longer.

Don't we all feel that way? What shall we do when our leader, teacher, friend, lover, (fill in your codependency) is no more? Ananda, weeping before the dying Tathagata, is much the same as Peter's admission. In the same vein, I, too, was worried about the teacher's absence. But when I arrived at the monastery's parking lot, I witnessed hundreds of followers streaming up the hillside. I was assured in my hopes and thus regained my spiritual footing. But the ground was paved by what Jesus was trying to tell Peter, and in fact was also the same as the Buddha told his closest disciple.

Each of the unawakened chooses to live in the unreal future confines of "what if." In a two hour dharma talk, Thich Nhat Hanh consistently emphasized living in the here and now as the way to freedom. My happiness is not dependent upon being in the presence of a master, even less about satisfying my own desires. As the Buddha said to Ananda, "Each of you should be an island unto himself, with himself and no other as his refuge." Jesus' rebuke to his closest disciple, "Get behind me, Satan...for you are setting your minds not on divine things but on human things," echoes this sentiment. Two thousand years later, we translated this message beginning the day joyously singing "I have arrived." In walking, sitting, and eating meditation I repeated:

I have arrived, I am home

In the here, and in the now

I am solid, I am free

In the ultimate, I dwell

And by the time I left, I felt as if I surely had.

These writings are now being collected at: http://lovealways-pisa.blogspot.com

a different way of seeing

Advertising is ubiquitous. Beyond the billboards, TV spots, and internet banners, shout outs can't be shut out. Everywhere we look some interest is trying to positively define itself in the consumer's mind. Over the years, branding, as it's now called, has become very sophisticated in the hope that when company communication is seen or heard, an advantageous Pavlovian response will be blindly triggered. Coca Cola used to be "delicious and refreshing," soon it became "the real thing," and now it simply "opens happiness." From long ago crisp description to today's vague promise, each allure affects our emotions and ultimately our buying decisions. In a not so subtle way, corporate America is invading our consciousness in an attempt to create alchemical desire out of fictional grounds.

As a graphic designer I have done a fair share of image creation. In my corporate identity work I usually endeavor to impart meaning beyond that which is readily apparent. My hope is that through the clever use of form, memorable impact will be created while accurately defining the client's product or organization. Most, if not all, of the company logos that you can think of, successfully employ this technique. The hidden arrow in the FedEx logo denotes movement, speed, and efficiency; Infinity automobile's vanishing roadway is a disguised arrow taking you far into the future; and the not so discreet arrow in the Amazon.com mark implies that the company carries everything from A to Z, are just a few examples. 

Branding attempts to create meaning beyond itself. With pervasive and persuasive contact we are easily deceived. Gullible, we readily believe what we're told. Soon we are not seeing for ourselves but that which we are conditioned to see. Though Coke may be delicious and refreshing, can it open happiness any more than the real thing - the real world - can? How is it anything more than a sweet carbonated beverage? We must open our eyes to see things truly for what they are. 

And this is Jesus' test in the gospel reading this morning. What do you see when you encounter the Christ he asks. Is there more than meets the eye? Answers are contrived from the collective consciousness but finally Peter declares only what he alone has perceived. He has seen the infinite in the finite. He has seen the real thing. William Blake, in the Marriage of Heaven and Hell, notes that "My senses discover'd the infinite in every thing." Through the senses we see only the finite reality, yet we sense the infinite through reality. If we look closely enough, the divine is seen in everyday life.

Does that make the mundane special? In one sense, no - a Coke is still a Coke no matter what the behemoth propaganda tells you. The physical phenomena has no meaning beyond itself. But then on another level, there is so much more. And this is what branding attempts to tap into and what Blake infers: That behind every physical thing there is a spiritual element waiting to be discovered. Jesus commends the often daft disciple because with deft comprehension he sees beyond the blinding rhetoric. His message: See not with the eyes, hear not with the ear, but understanding with the heart. In the finite lies the potential for the infinite. No one needs to tell you otherwise.

love, always,
pia

These writings are now being collected at: http://lovealways-pisa.blogspot.com

see what a tree can do

Late winter, when the snows begin to recede and the daytime temperatures rise above freezing, is the brief sapping season at the Convent. The surrounding woods is a veritable sugarbush so there is no shortage of trees from which to choose from. Small and medium sized trees are bypassed until years later, but the large ones are targeted and tapped. Over time some proved to supply more sap than others, yet there are one or two on the far side of the school's basketball court that readily flow far greater than the others. Although the Sisters were grateful for all the trees in the vicinity, these specimens were dubbed Grandfather and Grandmother Maples, perhaps because of their girth and long life, but also because of their unconditional generosity. They were accorded genuine respect and they are still loved to this day even when they are occasionally outdone by their neighbors.

A tree can do that. When you come to know it, not solely for the visceral value it provides, but simply because of it being a living being, that relationship can change you. It only requires an adjustment in perspective. It's important to remember that it's not the tree that changes, but only our perception. The tree is always there, quietly doing its tree business, it is we who become aware that there is more life than just our own limited physical presence. As such, our reality becomes just a little bit larger than it was before. We become more than ourselves and our natural compassion extends beyond our own needs.

This is what Peter, James, and John experience at the transfiguration of Jesus. We are told that the appearance of Jesus' face changed and his clothes became dazzling white. But somehow that can't be what happened. The Master was always such - he did not change, only those who saw him were. Luke continues; "Suddenly they saw," and as their eyes were opened to the majesty of god in man, they became aware of a new possibility. Even though the classical Christian interpretation is to reveal the divinity of only Jesus in that moment, I believe that the understanding of the divine indwelling in all humankind is what truly broadened their worldview and thus changed them forever. The disciples became a part of a greater whole, one which they could not see before, but once the potential was revealed it became indisputable.

As I was driving to my parent's house Wednesday night, I noticed for the first time a statuesque sight. Two houses down from their driveway stood a tall pine tree which stood out from the rest of the hillside. I have driven this road perhaps thousands of times in the 30-plus years they have lived there, but never once had I seen this beauteous giant. Its twisting shape revealed patches of spare limbs and smooth reddish bark. The green-needled branches stretching horizontally struck me with awe. How could I have missed this tree all these years? Of course, it was always there, it didn't change, but now it is a part of my reality. Just like Peter, James, and John, the future will look different because of the recognition of the gracious divine presence dwelling among us. This tree will remind me to be grateful, not only of its individual existence, but for the landscape in which it dwells and all who live thereby. It's simply amazing what a tree can do.

love, always,

pia

a good or bad choice

Acceptance is perhaps the most challenging aspect of life. We find ourselves consistently dissatisfied with what is, and typically grasp for something better, something to change, or something different than what reality presents. As such, we choose to impose concerted opinions about whether something is pleasing to us or not. Yet Shakespeare's Hamlet wisely said, "There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." By creating the distinction we foster the conditions of pervasive suffering. The source of all unhappiness is being intolerant of the present situation.

On the other hand, tolerance is not what's called for either. In a response to one of my recent tracts, I was accosted with vituperative and provocative language. Their attempt to rectify a perceived wrong through unsubtle judgment did less to induce critical dialog than to incite inner violence. Perhaps there was a need for tolerance to the onslaught in a move toward resolution? Strangely, however, one should not tolerate anything, for this implies remaining bracingly static, bearing indignantly the situation which serves only to increase the inner conflict. Nor should we kowtow from our self-defined positions to the other. Rather, we must forget ourselves and our deeply-held sacred position, and compassionately welcome that which we find. Acceptance of all, not tolerance, is the key.

We are reminded of such in the Wheat and the Tares analogy in today's lesson. The Christ explains that leaving both the weeds and the grain to grow alongside each other is better than to make a biased distinction. We may, unknowingly, have them confused. It is therefore best to have both remain, the good and the bad, and let life be without judgment.

Just last week I visited the local botanic gardens and marveled at a beautiful iridescent blue thistle seed head. Normally we might consider this plant unwanted because it takes space away from the useful and beneficial, yet here it was anything but a weed. In actuality, the flower exists without interpretation. It is neither good nor bad. We alone create the distinction. We may be distracted by our prejudice, our inculturation, or our reasoning may not always be right. Sometimes the weeds, that which we consider unwanted, are good for us too.

LIkewise, my father is currently involved in a medical research test. The doctors are evaluating between two titanium discs that can help reduce the pressure on his spine. He had hoped for the newer, compact version but was told after the surgery that he received the original one. I expected him to be disappointed but he judiciously indicated that it didn't matter. There was no distinction for in the end they both worked toward the same goal. 

There is nothing wrong nor right; nothing good nor bad; and there is nothing to choose. Everything is simply as it is. All condemnation creates division, but judgment is not reality. The Tao says, "Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the world belongs to you."

love, always,

pia

where love can grow

In the middle of a downtown street I came upon a small oasis. Emerging out of a six inch perfectly round hole lay a patch of cool green surrounded by a swath of sweltering black asphalt. Wall to wall, a carpet of lush grass concealed a gas manhole cover and in the middle I spotted a ladybug crawling on a tiny white clover flower. Transfixed, I was amazed that this beautiful tableau could arise in such an adverse place where presumedly nothing could grow - nothing perhaps, except road rage.

But how was it possible? Frequent traffic traverse this intersection threatening immanent trampling. Little water could penetrate to enliven the bare and fragile earth. And the scorching summer pavement would make even the hardiest plants wither without hesitation. Yet out of this most inhospitable environs shot forth the seed of possibility. An island of hope took root and love blossomed.

The reality was that the street was simply returning to its natural state. Provided a crack in its hard surface, the seed of god's nature broke through the mean streets of everyday life. The indomitable spirit penetrated the nature of man-made reality and revealed its original nature beneath - that is, the ground of love.

We are told about such places in today's gospel parable. The prophet concedes, however, that these precarious conditions often ensure a fruitless harvest. Though the plant may germinate in a variety of landscapes, it never fully matures unless the ground is well prepared. But our hope in the prodigal farmer, who refuses to neglect even the most difficult places, is undaunted. Regardless of the fact that some soil may provide a more enriching environment than others, there always remains the potential for full flowering. The teaching reveals that the undiscriminating spread of the divine seed of love fills us no matter who or where we are.

Should an opportunity arise to break through the often impenetrable surface of our heart, these ripening seeds promise to cover our full being. The ultimate flowering of life is to return to our natural state - to let the seeds of love mature and yield a flourishing oasis even in the harshest environments.

love, always,

pia

the last word

I have struggled with reading all of my life. Not only do I read slowly, many times after finishing a passage of text, I have little conception of what I just read. From the very beginning, extra classes were invoked to help me, not just understand what I was reading, but also what was on the page itself. Basic first grade primers were confused in imaginative verse much different than what was intended. Later, high school SAT examinations were torturous because my skills were still only approaching adequate. Much to my chagrin, I was encouraged to take them twice because of the unfathomable discrepancy between my mathematics and English scores. A mild form of dyslexia - my own diagnosis - created a fear of the written word that persisted until I rid the home of the television set fifteen years ago. With no allure to the intoxicating blue hues of inculcation, I encouraged and developed a love of books notwithstanding being often flummoxed by mere comprehension. 

So when a misconstrued email found its way into my inbox this week I pondered its meaning intently. Innocuous as it may have seemed to the sender, it catapulted the recipient into skewed fits of confusion. Did it mean what it said or was I reading into it something that was not there? Over and over I ruminated if the wording was a simple mistake or a subtle jab with underlying purpose. Try as I might to grant the benefit of the doubt, anger surged inside me as only the paranoia of disrespect dominated my reading. I could not let go of the presumed affront and it opened a Pandora's (in)box of despair.

Wisely, I recognized straightaway that the words were not the perpetrator but, in fact, was of my own conspiring mind. I created the problem by taking offense. By supposing that the sender's meaning was malicious, I exacerbated its effect by clinging to a created reality. My ego inflamed the situation when all I really wanted was to be free from the speculative slander. Unfortunately this wisdom did not prevent an ill-advised, if reasoned, response. This unskillful strategy did not bring me the joy nor redemption I longed for, but only more consternation.

Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yolk upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Our burdens enslave us to not only physical afflictions but mental sufferings as well. And a majority of these burdens are self-inflicted resulting from our attachments. My pride was hurt and so desired a less-than gentle and humble retribution. I thus bound myself to unhappiness because I understood solely through what the subjective mind could read.

The fine print, however, is the extant truth hidden in the authentic Self. And this is what today's gospel calls us to encounter - the unlimited, unburdened Word. Our contrived burdens are never the last word. A true and lasting joy can be learned only in attentive comprehension. There will be found rest for the wearied mind; there will be found ultimate understanding.

 

love, always,
pia