Tag: practice

The Lesson of Unlearning.

There’s a story I quite like; about a Zen master and his eager student.

“I’m devoted to learning,” he said earnestly. “How long before I am aware?”

“Ten years,” the master replied.

“Ten years?!” the student cried incredulously. “But, I’m your best student…well-versed, the son of royalty! I can’t possibly wait that long. If I work hard, practicing every day – 10 hours or more, if need be…how long will it take then”

The master thought for a moment. Looking out to the now setting sun, he replied:

“Twenty years.”

It’s a bit ‘tongue in cheek’, certainly. Though, it does serve to emphasize an important point – that without patience we are unable to investigate the true nature of our experience.

When we lock into the energy of “must have or be”, we lose the capacity for the heart to remain open. We fail to see the inherent need of that which stands before us.

That is, to simply be appreciated.

In this way, awareness is not formed on the basis of learning – but, rather unlearning – all that has served to stand in our way.

Or, as the poet Rumi once reflected, “to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

In peace, my loves… today, I pray we may embrace this lesson of unlearning.

Namaste ❤️

Letting the Practice Become the Joy.

“Joy does not exist outside of the breathing,” writes Thich Nhat Hanh. “The breathing is joy itself.”

His message is intended to reinforce an often ‘missed’ point. That is to say, in practicing we become the practice. Every moment refined by stillness underpins the true essence of mindfulness. As such, even something as simple as breath become the means by which we learn to embrace and transform our suffering.

Likewise, it serves as a reminder that practice needn’t precede joy. As such, we must learn to manifest as one in the same.

Just as our breath becomes the joy, so too may our suffering be likewise transmuted. It is this very realization that allows us to connect to the vitality of this present moment.

This physical realm is neither an obstacle nor a hindrance; rather, it is the means itself.

“People who study the path clearly know there is such a thing,” shares Zen master, Foyan. “why do they fail to get the message, and go on doubting? It is as though you have an eye that sees all forms, but does not see itself. This is how the mind is. its light penetrates everywhere and engulfs everything. So, why does it not know itself?”

A little something to consider on this day, my loves – and a reminder that we mustn’t allow our practice to become our impediment.

In peace…

Namaste <3

The Foundation of My Practice.

“There comes a time when the bubble of ego is popped and you can’t get the ground back for an extended period of time. Those times, when you absolutely cannot get it back together, are the most rich and powerful times in our lives.”

– from Shambhala Mountain Center’s Learning to Stay

Someone once asked of me, “Tara, what is the foundation of your practice?”

Foundation can be such a misleading word. By that, I mean, it presupposes that there is just one source. When in fact, there could be many; comprised of all those many times in which we sat ‘broken’ on the floor.

It’s right there, in those moments when we are most humbled – when our ego is ‘popped’, so to speak – that we find ourselves finally  willing to listen.

To listen to what our heart most needs to say.

Zen Master Suzuki Roshi once looked out at his students and said, “All of you are perfect just as you are….and….you could use a little improvement.”

This is the heart of the practice, now, isn’t it? To be graciously accepting of imperfections along our path, knowing – in time, they’ll soon prove their value.

As Pema Chodron explains, we have a lifetime of ‘ancient habits which we’ve been strengthening for a long time, and it’s going to take a while to unwind them.”

It’s these moments of ‘crumbling inward’, my darlings, in which the aperture of our world begins to expand.

We begin to ‘see’ in ways, unlike ever before…through eyes absent ego’s veil.

Instead of dreading the arrival of these troubles as an obstacle, why not view them “as the raw material necessary for awakening compassion” instead?

In looking past we might just find an opportunity to untangle those threads.

“Get out of your head and get into your Heart. Think less, feel more.” reminds Indian mystic, Osho

Indeed, to find the means to get out of your head; to think less, and feel MORE – my darlings, this is the foundation of any practice.

The Practice of Love.

I must have been two or three years old, at the time when my parents moved us to a house in the countryside. They were hoping to avoid the upsets of ‘city life’, and, to provide us with the best upbringing imaginable.

And, oh my goodness – they worked so very hard for it.

My father worked grueling shifts at the factory downtime; while, my dearest mother maintained a loving home and her day job.

And, never once in all that time did I ever hear them complain.

It wasn’t until I was much older that I finally realized the depth of their sacrifice. That which I assumed to be second nature, was in fact a testimony to their unwavering devotion. No matter what was happening in the world that day – whether war, or strife, or the threat of disaster – there was always safe refuge within these ‘four walls.’

I don’t know how they did it, really. To save us from the true hazards of life, while still offering us ample room to grow.

It was a balancing act of magnificent proportions. But, that’s the thing now, isn’t it? We never really understanding the meaning of unconditional love, until we actually experience it.

And, though we know it when we feel it – there is always some aspect of thinking mind that wishes to deny it.

“This fire that we call Loving is too strong for human minds. But just right for human souls.” ― Aberjhani

My darlings, just as blood courses through to nourish the heart, so too, does love nourish our soul. With gentle flowing our edges are softened, and each of our wounds is filled.

Just as the Buddha once said, “with dripping drops of water, the jug is filled.” Every instance of tenderness and warmth, every moment when our hearts are shattered and pieced back together again…within each, there is room for love to become our practice, once again.

Perhaps, this is the basis for our balance? That we might learn to love, while never once cutting off the flow?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Making Patience Our Practice.

[blockquote source=”Christina Feldman”]”When our eyes and hearts are open, we glimpse buddhanature shining in countless moments.”[/blockquote]

I watched a young woman in line for coffee today – well dressed, and ready for work, with blackberry firmly strapped to her hand. At just 6:30 a.m., she was already engaged in a heated ‘planning’ session.

She was waiting for her drink order – a Grande Spiced Pumpkin Latte, double espresso, with extra whipped cream. As the moments passed, I could see her anxiety building – at first, the familiar pinch of restlessness, growing quickly to the burden of haste.

And though, it was only a matter of a few moments – to her, the delay was intolerable. She was so caught up in the energy of irritation that she missed the most precious little girl tugging at her skirt,

“Mommy, are you mad?” she asked.

Sometimes, we’re so eager to move onto the next big thing – that we end up missing the blessing in this moment now. As author Tara Brach so eloquently stated, ” If this is our habitual reaction to delay, we are at war with many of our life moments.”

Indeed, in our haste to move forward – we lose touch with life’s much simpler things. We shut down, close off, constrict – all, in an effort to pull away from life’s edginess.

To be patient, we must learn not to escalate our emotions…something, much easier said than done.

You know, the other day I was so very proud of my darling daughter – who called me on her walk home from work.

“Mom, you have to see the sky tonight!” she chattered on excitedly – as if seeing a sunset for the very first time.

Impatience can be such a terrible thief, my darlings – robbing us of the miracle of all those ‘first times.’

Perhaps, we might learn to make patience our practice? Instead of rushing so quickly forward into that next big thing?