Zucchinis are a joke in my community. Once i found a big green dude strapped into my passenger seat with a seat belt. After a carpenter-friend had fixed some lighting in the bedroom, i found a baseball bat of a zucchini under my pillow. I myself have left zucchinis anonymously in neighbors' mailboxes.
You might call this generosity. Or you might not.
The Buddha defined 3 types of generosity: "cheapo" giving, which says, "I'm going to get rid of this anyway, so I might as well give it to you." Then there's the medium level of giving, which is sharing something that is valuable to you with others. However regal giving, or raja dana, is the most powerful form of giving. It is giving what is most precious to you.*
While putting junk zucchinis in unexpected places is good for a laugh, my heart feels happiest when I give my extra vegetables to the local food shelf.
*Thanks to Ajahn Amaro for this delineation of generosity.
www.buddhanet.net/budsas/ebud/ebdha161.htm
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
End of Summer Vacation
It's the end of summer vacation for my houseplants. For the past 4 months, they've been lounging in the mottled shade under a second-story deck.
I've tanned; they've greened. My skin is less tender, and so is theirs. We're both healthier, more muscle-y. We both look downright tropical.
Now i bring them indoors, one by one, and line them up, according to height in my solarium
In ancient India, the Buddha instituted a 3-month long Rains Retreat, to keep the monks and nuns indoors during monsoon season. My plants and i retreat to the house to protect ourselves from the next 6 months of frosts.
My personal retreat season begins in October this year and continues intermittently into January.
I've tanned; they've greened. My skin is less tender, and so is theirs. We're both healthier, more muscle-y. We both look downright tropical.
Now i bring them indoors, one by one, and line them up, according to height in my solarium
In ancient India, the Buddha instituted a 3-month long Rains Retreat, to keep the monks and nuns indoors during monsoon season. My plants and i retreat to the house to protect ourselves from the next 6 months of frosts.
My personal retreat season begins in October this year and continues intermittently into January.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Dirt in the Trunk
Now is the season to make the last trip to the nursery or garden center to buy those perennials or shrubs that can hardly wait to shrug off their containers, like a coat grown too small.
Great deals are there for the spending, under the disguise of "Save 50%." We could save 100% by not buying anything, but desire trumps logic any day.
So we load plants into the trunk of our car, maybe overflowing onto the floor of the back seat. Some women carry the protection of an old shower curtain or an old rug, but i always was an au-naturel girl. After i arrive home and unload, crumbs of dirt and a dead leaf or two remind me day after day, week after week to clean up after myself.
Desire is the culprit that weakens our integrity, that pushes us to tell a white lie, to fudge a bit, to keep the incorrect change that is given, to kill pests because we hate them, to drink one too many glasses of wine.
Our conscience knows. Our conscience has the integrity to notice our crummy behavior. But we throw those thoughts into the trunks of our mind and try not to notice.
When we finally get around to cleaning up our act, we feel so much better. Ahhh. We can breathe again.
Great deals are there for the spending, under the disguise of "Save 50%." We could save 100% by not buying anything, but desire trumps logic any day.
So we load plants into the trunk of our car, maybe overflowing onto the floor of the back seat. Some women carry the protection of an old shower curtain or an old rug, but i always was an au-naturel girl. After i arrive home and unload, crumbs of dirt and a dead leaf or two remind me day after day, week after week to clean up after myself.
Desire is the culprit that weakens our integrity, that pushes us to tell a white lie, to fudge a bit, to keep the incorrect change that is given, to kill pests because we hate them, to drink one too many glasses of wine.
Our conscience knows. Our conscience has the integrity to notice our crummy behavior. But we throw those thoughts into the trunks of our mind and try not to notice.
When we finally get around to cleaning up our act, we feel so much better. Ahhh. We can breathe again.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Dry Gardens; Dry Meditation
Ordinarily i would have begun transplanting perennials and shrubs 3 weeks ago. Dividing bunches of phlox and mums in half and merrily moving short or tall plants to their proper class-photo place in a flower bed. But we are still in a drought here in New England.
I heard that a backhoe digging down 4 feet found only dryness. Dug wells, 10 or 12 feet deep, have dried up as the water table has sunk, and the people in those homes are having to buy water. Quite an unusual event for this green state i live in.
My sweetie beseeches me to water the gardens--a daunting task that makes me wish i had irrigation.
Sometimes our meditation practice feels dry. This is just when people give up meditating. Maybe they decide to try something juicier--psychic reading, enneagrams, astrology, jogging.
How to water a dry practice? Find something interesting, change your object of meditation, or change your meditation posture.
Make walking or standing meditation your main form. Or if you are daring, lying down meditation; do a body scan.
Change your object of meditation to hearing or to sensations. Or spend a year practicing loving-kindness. If you experience a dry spell, move to compassion. If that dries up, practice appreciative joy. Then equanimity. And start again.
Commit to a teacher and call or e-mail them once a month. If you can, sign up for a retreat, even if it's only a day-long or a weekend.
My mind is such that i find investigation very interesting. Take a high-lighted or underlined phrase from the spiritual book you are reading, and spend your entire meditation session contemplating that. Go ahead and turn it over in your mind, word by word, phrase by phrase.
Water your practice now. Trust me. You will see blooms by next summer.
I heard that a backhoe digging down 4 feet found only dryness. Dug wells, 10 or 12 feet deep, have dried up as the water table has sunk, and the people in those homes are having to buy water. Quite an unusual event for this green state i live in.
My sweetie beseeches me to water the gardens--a daunting task that makes me wish i had irrigation.
Sometimes our meditation practice feels dry. This is just when people give up meditating. Maybe they decide to try something juicier--psychic reading, enneagrams, astrology, jogging.
How to water a dry practice? Find something interesting, change your object of meditation, or change your meditation posture.
Make walking or standing meditation your main form. Or if you are daring, lying down meditation; do a body scan.
Change your object of meditation to hearing or to sensations. Or spend a year practicing loving-kindness. If you experience a dry spell, move to compassion. If that dries up, practice appreciative joy. Then equanimity. And start again.
Commit to a teacher and call or e-mail them once a month. If you can, sign up for a retreat, even if it's only a day-long or a weekend.
My mind is such that i find investigation very interesting. Take a high-lighted or underlined phrase from the spiritual book you are reading, and spend your entire meditation session contemplating that. Go ahead and turn it over in your mind, word by word, phrase by phrase.
Water your practice now. Trust me. You will see blooms by next summer.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Which Path?
My partner Bill and i go outdoors together and engage in parallel play. He does wood; i do dirt. He looks up to the trees around our house; i look down to flowers and weeds.
Occasionally we call to each other, "Hey! I need a consultation over here." We enjoy the bnefit of an extra set of eyes, another mind with creative ideas.
In the evening, after dinner, we stroll through the garden. He plans which branches to prune; i decide which plants i want to move. The effect is gracious as he subtracts trees at the edge of the woods, and i add flowering plants.
Our friends may follow a different spiritual path than we do, yet we still may gain from the cross-fertilization of meditation and contemplation. Although i am completely happy with my path of Theravadin Buddhism (from Southeast Asia), and i highly recommend it, i never cease to be amazed at the different doors that people walk through. One friend loves Thich Nhat Hanh. Another is so "Tibetan," that path obviously fits him better. And then there's that out-of-the box Zen friend.
Never mind that our minds don't work in the same ways. We can call on our spiritual friends for consultation in our lives when we need that. Our mutual goal is kindness.
Occasionally we call to each other, "Hey! I need a consultation over here." We enjoy the bnefit of an extra set of eyes, another mind with creative ideas.
In the evening, after dinner, we stroll through the garden. He plans which branches to prune; i decide which plants i want to move. The effect is gracious as he subtracts trees at the edge of the woods, and i add flowering plants.
Our friends may follow a different spiritual path than we do, yet we still may gain from the cross-fertilization of meditation and contemplation. Although i am completely happy with my path of Theravadin Buddhism (from Southeast Asia), and i highly recommend it, i never cease to be amazed at the different doors that people walk through. One friend loves Thich Nhat Hanh. Another is so "Tibetan," that path obviously fits him better. And then there's that out-of-the box Zen friend.
Never mind that our minds don't work in the same ways. We can call on our spiritual friends for consultation in our lives when we need that. Our mutual goal is kindness.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
The Cricket-Piano Duet
My sweetie, Bill, is a concert pianist who practices the piano 2 - 4 hours a day. Meditation is also a skill that requires practice.
Last evening, Bill inadvertently left the outside door slightly ajar. As he played, a cricket hopped in and came to the piano to "sing along."
"That cricket wanted to mate with my piano," Bill said.
One of the effects of our own practice of meditation is that we find more access to beautiful states of mind. At first the joy, happiness, or calm may be only momentary, but, with practice, we find these beautiful states of mind living with us more often. Our friends feel even more comfortable with us. And, maybe even a cricket.
Last evening, Bill inadvertently left the outside door slightly ajar. As he played, a cricket hopped in and came to the piano to "sing along."
"That cricket wanted to mate with my piano," Bill said.
One of the effects of our own practice of meditation is that we find more access to beautiful states of mind. At first the joy, happiness, or calm may be only momentary, but, with practice, we find these beautiful states of mind living with us more often. Our friends feel even more comfortable with us. And, maybe even a cricket.
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