Career Advice: 3 Reasons You Should Transform Your Talent into a Money Making Service
Career Advice: 3 Reasons You Should Transform Your Talent into a Money Making Service |
- Career Advice: 3 Reasons You Should Transform Your Talent into a Money Making Service
- Early Morning Stress Reduction Inspiration - 5/30/2013
- No lotus position needed: Neuroscience pushes meditation into the mainstream
- Parts of a discarded religion can fit into a new spiritual practice
- The foremost ones
- An awareness imbued with compassion
- Rare and precious joy
Career Advice: 3 Reasons You Should Transform Your Talent into a Money Making Service Posted: 30 May 2013 09:00 AM PDT I never really believed that it was possible to play, and still make money until I started playing. Read more »I played really hard for one year, but for some reason, I didn't go broke! Many people told me to get serious with my life and get a job. But being stubborn as I was, I played harder! Even my dog started to wonder who between the two of us was the real dog. That's what happens when you do what you love. Read More @ Source |
Early Morning Stress Reduction Inspiration - 5/30/2013 Posted: 30 May 2013 07:00 AM PDT "Whenever anger comes up, take out a mirror and look at yourself. When you are angry, you are not very beautiful." ~Thich Nhat Hanh |
No lotus position needed: Neuroscience pushes meditation into the mainstream Posted: 30 May 2013 01:00 AM PDT Jeff Strickler, Star Tribune: When the Rev. Ron Moor began meditating 30 years ago, he did so in secret. "When I started, meditation was a dirty word," said Moor, pastor of Spirit United Church in Minneapolis. "[Evangelist] Jimmy Swaggart called it 'the work of the devil.' Because of its basis in Eastern religions, fundamentalists considered it satanic. Now those same fundamentalists are embracing it. And every class I teach includes at least a brief meditation." The faith community isn't alone in changing its attitude. Businesses, schools and hospitals not only have become more accepting of meditation, but many offer classes on it. Meditating has… Read the original article » Read More @ Source |
Parts of a discarded religion can fit into a new spiritual practice Posted: 30 May 2013 12:00 AM PDT Reuse. Recycle. Good advice for handling material stuff. Also practices that can be used with religious stuff. Recently someone emailed me, asking whether I still repeated the mantra I was taught after being initiated into a guru-based meditation practice. Part of my reply was: Usually I don't repeat the RSSB mantra. But sometimes I do, sort of for old time's sake. I figure that I repeated it so many times over the many years, it must have formed some sort of concentrative relaxed groove in my brain. It's kind of comforting to repeat the Five Names. Sometimes I do it while falling asleep. Or just a few of the names. There's no harm in continuing to engage in a religious practice, even though you no longer believe in the religion. Many lapsed Christians still go to church. They enjoy the atmosphere, the hymns, the stained glass, socializing afterward, whatever. Me, I still meditate every day. I rarely use the mantra mentioned above during my meditation. However, like I said, sometimes I drag it out of my memory chest and give it a try again. After all, words are just words. Sounds, more accurately, when someone isn't focused on the meaning of the words. Maybe this is how de-converted Christians feel when hymns are being sung, or a sermon preached. Like how I feel when I repeat the familiar mantra: comfortable word-sounds echoing in my head. I enjoy the sensation of them; not the theological significance they once held for me. D.T. Suzuki, a Zen adept, has a similar attitude about the Buddhist mantra, namu amida butsu. I wrote about this in previous posts: "Update on my enlightenment (in brief, going well)" and "Mantra meditation: what's in a word?" The basic notion is to still the intellectual, rational, analytical, conceptual aspect of the brain, allowing whatever is left over to shine in one's consciousness. Bingo! Enlightenment! Here's another passage from D.T. Suzuki's book on Zen that I re-read today. In my view, the reason [to repeat a mantra like Namu Amida Butsu] is to be sought not in the magical effect of the name itself, but in the psychological effect of its repetition. Whenever there is an intelligent meaning, it suggests an endless train of ideas and feelings attached thereto; the mind then either becomes engaged in working a logical loom, or becomes inextricably involved in the meshes of imagination and association. When meaningless sounds are repeated, the mind stops there, not having chances to wander about. Images and hallucinations are less apt to invade it. To use Buddhist terminology, the external dust of discrimination covers the original bright surface of the inner mirror of enlightenment. For many years I followed a spiritual path that emphasized repeating a mantra that had a lot of meaning. The "five holy names" supposedly pointed to actual supernatural realms of reality, each with a divine ruler, sights and sounds, special characteristics, and such. Holy? From the above-mentioned Idiot's Guide [to Taoism]: A famous Zen saying describes the sacred sutras as "useful only for wiping puss from your boils." Holiness can go to hell. Along with religions, gurus, masters, mystic practices, spiritual paths, and every other purveyor of metaphysical crap that sells the "meshes of imagination and association" and "images and hallucination" Suzuki mentioned. Religious practices, including mantras, work. But not for a supernatural, mystical, divine, or miraculous reason. Because those practices affect the human mind in certain ways. Christians and other monotheists believe in "let go and let God." Meaning, cast all your cares upon God. It isn't necessary to be religious to understand that this is a good thing to do: worrying less and living contentedly more. Not long after I was initiated in 1971 and starting repeating my mantra as often as I could, I got a part-time job as a teacher's aide. I had just gotten a psychology degree from San Jose State University. Having taken 4 1/2 years to do so, I needed a job before starting a Master's in Social Work program at Portland State University. I was asked to counsel a female Santa Clara High School student. I had no idea what to do or what to say. About all I remember was that I tried to repeat my mantra even while counseling her. This left me rather distracted. I didn't think I was helping her at all. When I got feedback from the teacher who was supervising me I was told that the student thought she got a lot out of our sessions. I was amazed. At the time I thanked my guru and his mantra. Obviously this was a miracle of sorts, divine grace! Now, I'm inclined to a different perspective. In addition to the fact that simply listening to someone share their feelings can be therapeutic for them, thinking often isn't a productive thing to do. Many activities go best when they're accompanied by the fewest possible thoughts. I talked about this here: Understand: there's nothing wrong with words, ideas, thoughts, understandings, theories, hypotheses. But they should be seen for what they are, emanations of a human brain, not something godly to be bowed down to. Last Tuesday my wife and I went to the sixth of an eight-week Hustle class (danced to disco music) that we've been enjoying a lot. The moves have been getting more challenging from week to week. As the leader, it's my job to get our hands, arms, legs, and feet in a moderately correct position, while keeping time to the infectiously happy disco beat. At first, I have to think about this with a newly taught move. "Jeez. From the two hand hold, I'm supposed to drop my right hand, not my left. Damn! And after the woman's one and a half turns I've got to keep to her right side in order to lead her in the opposite direction." That sort of stuff goes through my head. But at the end of the class, when our instructor said, "I'm going to put a few songs on you can practice to; run through everything we've learned so far," I was pleased to see how I found myself doing a new move correctly without knowing what I was doing. Meaning, I could do it without thinking "I'm doing it." I'd be halfway through a complicated Hustle move before I realized what I was doing. Enlightenment! Not what I thought enlightenment would be like why back when, before I knew I was enlightened. But what I think, and what is -- those are two very different things. |
Posted: 29 May 2013 11:00 PM PDT An interesting discourse, the Aggañña Sutta (A. ii. 80) is about the beginning (agg) knowledge (añña) of the castes. It also happens to be a somewhat humorous putdown of the Brahmin caste who claim that their lineage goes back to the god Brahmâ which makes them always superior to others. But according to the Buddha, all castes are the same when it comes to doing good and bad things. The Buddha says, "Both dark and bright qualities ... are scattered indiscriminately among all four castes." The Buddha then goes on to tell a story (which is more myth like) which shows how beings de-evolve from the Abhassara Brahma world; who gradually become more coarse and degenerate except for those who are restrained in body, speech and thought; who will attain nirvana in this very life. (Brackets are mine.)
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An awareness imbued with compassion Posted: 29 May 2013 10:00 PM PDT
I want to focus on the phrase, of the Buddha's, "an awareness imbued with compassion," because I think it's rather important. Here's something you can try in your meditation. When I'm teaching, often at the beginning of a period of practice I'll suggest that people become aware of the light, and space, and sound around them. It's the space that's particularly important to notice. I encourage them to feel the space in front, behind, to the sides — even above and below. We have this sense of space as one of our senses, although we tend to neglect it in favor of the big five. If the room you're in was plunged into darkness so that you couldn't see anything at all, you could still point to the door. You would still have a sense of how far it was to each of the walls around you. It can feel like your mind is filling the space around you. Our awareness seems expansive. And then I ask people to become aware — in addition — to the inner space of their experience, noticing the sensations that are arising in the body, noticing thoughts and feelings. There can be a tendency at this point for our awareness to move completely inwards. We drop our awareness of the outer world, and focus exclusively on what's inside. But interesting things happen when you remain aware of outer experience and inner experience simultaneously. Usually this spacious, open awareness brings about a sense of quiet in the mind. Our thoughts slow down, and may stop altogether. There will inevitably be a tendency for the mind to move either outward into the world, or inward into our physical or mental experience, but if we can find a point of balance where we are equally aware of the other and inner poles of our experience, then the mind remains very still. This state is very restful. There's no need to go looking for our experience; it's just coming to us. We can realize that our experience of the inner and outer worlds is there all the time, and that it's "looking for our experience" that cuts us of from the totality of our experience. As soon as you focus on one thing, you exclude a thousand others. So we just rest, not focusing on anything in particular, letting our experience come to us. So this is deeply restful. And if we can maintain that point of balance, then the sense of there being an inside and outside to our experience can begin to dissolve and, eventually, vanish altogether. On some level, there's no self or other, but simply an expansive field of undivided awareness. So this is something I often encourage people to do at the beginning of meditation, but this is also very useful to do when we're moving into the final stage of the metta bhavana or karuna bhavana. Because at this point, when we imbue our mind with compassion, we're also imbuing our world with compassion. Basically, at this point, any being you happen to meet is going to be met with a compassionate awareness. You might "meet" these beings by hearing their voices, or their car engines, or even by hearing the sound of the airplanes they're in. You might meet them just by knowing that they're present, in the way that you know when your partner is in the next room even if they're silent, or know that there are neighbors in the house next door. Or you may meet them in your mind. You might think of the people who have been in the practice; you're simply receiving an awareness of them into your compassionate mind. Or you might think of people in some far-away country. And of course you are meeting yourself all the time, since both the inner is in your awareness as well as the outer; remember we just have one unified field of awareness. And all of these beings that you come across are met with compassion; you are aware of them as beings who want to be happy and to be free from suffering, and as beings who nevertheless suffer, and you wish that they be free from suffering. So we have "an awareness imbued with compassion … abundant, expansive, immeasurable, free from hostility, free from ill will." There are no boundaries to the mind. You can try this exercise of being aware of the inner and outer worlds simultaneously anytime. I'm doing it right now as I type this post. I do it as I'm walking or driving. In fact some of the Buddha's instructions on walking meditation include an awareness of space: "Percipient of what is behind and in front, you should determine on walking back and forth." This expansive, open, non-self-focused awareness is very accessible. And then all we have to do is to imbue our awareness with compassion, and every being we encounter will be met with kindness and with a desire that they be free from suffering. Read More @ Source |
Posted: 29 May 2013 09:00 PM PDT When I talk to people about how much they experience joy, most say, "Not so much." Joy is not a frequent visitor, and when it does appear, it's fleeting. Joy arises when we are open to both the beauty and suffering inherent in living. Like a great sky that includes all different types of weather, joy is an expansive quality of presence. It says "Yes to life, no matter what!" Yet it's infrequency lets us know our more habitual posture: resisting what's happening, saying "No" to the life that is here and now. We tend to override our innate capacity for joy with our incessant inner dialogue, our chronic attempts to avoid unpleasantness and to hold on to pleasure. Rather than joy in the present moment, we are trying to get somewhere else, to experience something that is better, different. The great French writer, André Gide, said: Joy is an "obligation" because it is an expression of our full potential. Only if we commit ourselves to loving life, do we come fully into our wholeness. This commitment means we investigate our limiting beliefs about our own goodness and worth. It means we bring mindfulness to our discursive thoughts and judgments. And it means we challenge the values of a culture that fixate on material growth, consumerism, and the domination of nature. There is a story of a young monk who arrives at a monastery and he's assigned to help the other monks copying the canons and the laws of the church by hand. He notices that the monks are copying from copies. He goes to the old abbot and he questions this. He points out that if there were even a small error earlier on, that it would never be picked up. In fact, it would be continued in all subsequent copies. The abbot says, "We've been copying from copies for centuries, but you have a good point." So he goes down to the vaults, way down deep in the caves under the monastery where the original manuscripts have been sitting for ages, for hundreds of years. Hours go by. Nobody sees the old abbot. Finally, the young, new monk gets really worried so he goes downstairs. He finds the old abbot, who is banging his head against the wall and crying uncontrollably. Concerned he asks him, "Father, father, what's wrong?" And in a choking voice, the old abbot replies, "The word was 'celebrate!' (not celibate)" When we get lost in habitual behaviors—in living according to others expectations, in avoiding risks, in not questioning our beliefs—we bypass opportunities to celebrate life. Joy is only possible if you are living in your body, with your senses awake. One training that cultivates your capacity for joy is to purposefully stop when you even get the slightest little tendril of a sense of "Ah…happiness." Whenever you start feeling some simple pleasure, a sense of something you appreciate, stop. Be fully aware of your body, of sensation and aliveness. Be aware of your heart. Sense what it's like to fully savor the beauty of a falling leaf, the warmth of a hug, the quietness at dawn. We're not a culture of savoring. We grasp after our pleasures, but we don't pause. We don't spend much time with our senses awake. Adapted from my book Radical Acceptance (2003) Read More @ Source |
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