Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Post Election Reflections - November 9, 2016



Like many of you, I spent last night sleepless and, I think, in shock. Starting with disbelief … then moving through anger at all those my ignorant, dualistic mind held responsible for the outcome of the election … and ending in shock.

It was in that fog of shock I reached for my refuge, the Dharma, and clung to two teachings that moved me beyond shock, to a place of peace. One was a teaching that helped soothe my fear for what a Donald Trump Presidency and Republican Senate and House means for the fight against climate change. The other, was my perpetual life jacket, The Way of the Bodhisattva.
 
I am currently participating in EcoSattva Training, offered through One Earth Sangha, with two of fellow Bright Dawn ministers. One of the readings in that training was an article by Jo Confino, from The Guardian, “Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh: Only Love Can Save Us from Climate Change.” That reading gave me a new perspective—a bigger picture of time, people, and Mother Earth—that saved me from staying in anger during the wee hours of this morning.

The article points out that Thich Nhat Hanh believes the reason people aren’t responding to the threat of global warming, “despite overwhelming scientific evidence is that they are unable to save themselves from their own personal suffering, never mind worry about the plight of Mother Earth.”

The article continues to explain Hanh’s advice:

“It is possible to be at peace if you pierce through our false reality, which is based on the idea of life and death, to touch the ultimate dimension in Buddhist thinking, in which energy cannot be created or destroyed.

By recognizing the inter-connectedness of all life, we can move beyond the idea that we are separate selves and expand our compassion and love in such a way that we take action to protect the Earth.”

He then moves to a concept that is alarming, but worth reflecting on. He says:

 “Our perception of time may help…. For us it is very alarming and urgent, but for Mother Earth, if she suffers she knows she has the power to heal herself even if it takes 100 million years…. The collective anger and violence will lead to our destruction and we have to learn to accept that….

So take refuge in Mother Earth and surrender to her and ask her to heal us, to help us. And we have to accept that the worst can happen; that most of us will die as a species and many other species will die also and Mother Earth will be capable after maybe a few million years to bring us out again and this time wiser.”

I realize this may not make anyone feel better today—or even tomorrow or the next day—as we struggle with shock, grief, and anger, but take some time to feel all that then think about how this frames things. It frames things in a way that I (and those that feel the way I do politically) am not the center of the universe … and this moment is not the end. And that “the worst can happen.”

I heard a political ‘pundit’ say today, “the truth is people vote for their own selfish interest.” When we remember that, it can help us understand that those who voted for President-Elect Donald Trump, did so because they, too, are thinking about their own happiness and wishing to avoid suffering.

And today, like the many other times I have struggled with great anger or fear, I reached for The Way of the Bodhisattva, by Master Shantideva. From the Chapter on Patience:

“If those who are like wanton children
Are by nature prone to injure others,
There’s no reason for our rage;
It’s like resenting fire for being hot.

And if their faults are fleeting and contingent,
If living beings are by nature mild,
It’s likewise senseless to resent them—
As well be angry at the sky when it is full of smoke!

Although it is their sticks that hurt me,
I am angry at the ones who wield them, striking me.
But they in turn are driven by their hatred;
Therefore with their hatred I should take offense.”

Monday, September 12, 2016


Fading | Small Stone - - September 12, 2016

Fading

Faded Forsythia leaves
quivering
in the September breeze—
like elderly hands.


Mourning Dove Meditation | Small Stone - September 6, 2016

Mourning Dove Meditation

Singing mourning dove
mellows a busy workday
with her coo - coo - coo.

Wednesday, August 31, 2016

 A Month of Small Stones | Small Stone - August 31, 2016

A Month of Small Stones

Shared with strangers, now confidants.

Some shiny treasures of nature's awe—
Some the pebbles of everyday—
Some with sharp edges of fear, loss, anger and grief—
Some dull and worn from the fatigue of a day.


But all perfectly polished from rubbing together—
Revealing a perfect dialogue of community.

#AwakeAugust
Let it Go | Small Stone - August 30, 2016

Let it Go

Don't hold so tight
to your opinion—
That you can't grab hold of
life in front of you.

#AwakeAugust

Friday, August 26, 2016

Lab Tests | Small Stone - August 26
 
Lab Tests

13 different tests —
5 vials of blood and
pee in a cup.
Traces of my body
everywhere.

#AwakeAugust

Thursday, August 25, 2016

Skipping | Small Stone - August 25, 2016

Skipping

Skipping stones
across busy days.
Yet, attention
on a moment in the everyday
is what busy needs.

#AwakeAugust

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

September Sigh | Small Stone - August 23, 2016

September Sigh

60° mornings
previewing September clarity.

Monday, August 22, 2016

Finally | Small Stone - August 22, 2016



Finally ...



A night without the air conditioning.
I'd forgotten the crickets'
constant song.

#AwakeAugust

Sunday, August 21, 2016

Back to School? | Small Stone - August 18, 2016

Back to School?

Something about the angle of the sun this morning
made me want to buy new notebooks.

Bathroom Buddha | Small Stone - August 17, 2016

 

Bathroom Buddha

Little Buddha in the bathroom,
like the lotus in the mud—
Reminder of my Buddha Nature
while at my most human.



#‎AwakeAugust‬
Neighborhood Walk | Small Stone - August 16, 2016

Neighborhood Walk

Walking the same neighborhood for 30 years.
Houses transformed—
from rundown to pristine—
and back again.

Owners shifting—
from aging to young families—
and back again.
One day walkers at the door; the next, tricycles.
All of life played out on one street.

‪#‎AwakeAugust‬
Rush Hour | Small Stone - August 15, 2016

Rush Hour

Rush hour in the trees —
Young sparrows hopping limb to limb
Cardinals darting tree to tree
Grey and red squirrels chasing and racing —
Off to find breakfast


Drought Rain | Small Stone - August 13, 2016

Drought Rain

Arms outstretched
in the downpour.
Aware of the Louisiana floods —
Too little; too much.

‪#‎AwakeAugust‬
The Grass is Always Greener ... | Small Stone - August 12, 2016

The Grass is Always Greener ...

 Smothered under a humid blanket
of August heat —
and the browning greens of drought.
Almost wish for the marble sameness
of January ice and snow.



#‎AwakeAugust‬
Drought Consequences | Small Stone - August 11, 2016

Drought Consequences

In addition to the lawn, trees, vegetables, and panting birds
The drought has dried the well of my small stones.

Mourning Dove | Small Stone - August 8, 2016

Mourning Dove

Mourning Dove's coo—
the antidote for everything.

Dancing Flies | Small Stone - August 7, 2016

Dancing Flies

Clouds of tiny insects float across August lawns
seeking a sunlit stage.
Dervishes whirling and undulating
in vertical waves
to a mystic rhythm
silent to me.


Cicadas | Small Stone - August 3, 2016

Cicadas

Crescendo ... Decrescendo ...
Who conducts this serenade
in perfect time?
In the constant pitch
of August heat.


Drought | Small Stone - August 2, 2016

Drought

Lawns are dusty carboard.
Creek beds with only rock.
The red command of Crimson King leaves
shrink and dry like an aging ruler.


5:40AM | Small Stone - August 1, 2016

5:40AM

More … and more … spots of light
form between the leaves of the trees
and pop through the slats of the window blind
trying to wake us.
But my dog still snores
And I drift back to sleep