Can a Tiger Change Its Stripes?

Lately some TV shows have me thinking about character and integrity. Yes, I have been enjoying some entertainment lately… But I always am very reflective about it. There are dhamma lessons to be learned sometimes in certain stories that are meant to entertain us.

In the show “Lost,” the Nigerian drug smuggler, Eko, has ruthlessly killed many people. However, in a Robin Hood style, he offers the Church money for vaccines if his priest brother will agree to help him dress as a priest in order to smuggle heroin out of Nigeria. His brother reluctantly agrees. But when the drugs are being loaded onto the plane, the military comes. His brother is shot and killed, and Eko doesn’t make it onto the plane in time. When the military find him there, dressed as a priest, they address him saying, “Father, are you alright?” He then takes his brother’s place, living and practicing as a priest from that day on.

In the TV/comic book series, "The Walking Dead," a virus has caused the dead to walk and bite the living in order to pass on the virus to create a world of zombies. The few living left are struggling to survive and avoid becoming one of the walking dead. I had a dream last night that the living character Rick was bitten by and became a zombie. But he was a unique zombie. He still had a moral compass. He could feel the urge to bite, but he was able to restrain himself. He was able to stay peacefully among the living. Of course, the living were cautious around him. What if he were to run out of restraint?

The character of Rick is a strong leader with a good heart and ethics. And because he is such a good person through and through, the zombie bite did not bring him completely down. He looked like a zombie and had urges like a zombie, but he was true to his inner goodness in spite of it. People were suspicious that he was not good, but he actually was. “I’m a zombie, but I’m not going to bite you,” is what he said.

Good souls are not affected by evil, because nothing can break that goodness that is deep down inside. Just ask Angulimala. Angulimala, Pali for “finger garland,” was a cold hearted killer who took a finger from each of his 999 victims and strung them into a necklace which he wore. His goal was 1000 fingers. As he waited in the forest for his one thousandth victim, his mother came through the forest. He would have killed his mother, but the Buddha knew Angulimala’s heart and he intervened. Angulimala was ready to kill the Buddha instead.

“Then the Blessed One performed such a feat of supernormal power that the bandit Angulimala, going as fast as he could, was unable to catch up with the Blessed One, who was walking at his normal pace. Then he thought: ‘It is marvelous! Formerly I caught up with even a galloping elephant and seized it; I caught up with even a galloping horse and seized it; I caught up with even a galloping chariot and seized it; I caught up with even a galloping deer and seized it. But yet, though I am going as fast as I can, I am unable to catch up with this monk who is walking at his normal pace.’ He stopped and called ‘Stop, monk! Stop, monk!’
‘I have stopped, Angulimala. Do you stop, too.’”

“Then he addressed the Blessed One in stanzas thus:

‘While you are walking monk, you tell me you have stopped;
But now, when I have stopped, you say I have not stopped.
I ask you now, O monk what is the meaning of it;
How is it you have stopped and I have not?’

(The Blessed One:)

‘Angulimala, I have stopped for ever,
Foreswearing violence to every living being;
But you have no restraint towards things that breathe;
So that is why I have stopped and you have not.’”

“Angulimala: A Murderer's Road to Sainthood” by Hellmuth Hecker
http://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/authors/hecker/wheel312.html

This was Finger Garland’s wake up call. Upon hearing these words, he was able to see the pure heart inside of himself that had been covered up by hardness and evil. He was so moved that he asked to become ordained as a monk and a follower of the Buddha. The Buddha, being an excellent judge of character, agreed.

Some say “A tiger cannot change its stripes,” but I beg to differ. There is a seed of goodness even in the most heartless murderer. Redemption is available to anyone and everyone. All one has to do is see their own goodness inside, make the choice to stop doing evil things and water the seed of goodness inside.

The path of the Buddha is simple:
Do good
Refrain from wrong
Purify the mind

You and Me Against the World

It just occurred to me today that in an individualistic society such as the one in which we live, it is no wonder why anxiety and depression are so rampant. The majority of us are not meant to be so “independent.” Based on all I have read about attachment theory, it is clear to me that humans of all ages thrive better when they have a primary object of attachment. They are more happy, content, and less anxious.

From my own experience, I certainly had a more difficult time getting my attachment needs met when not in a committed relationship. I managed just fine on my own. I am as independent as they come in this society. And I have a good support network of family and friends that I can count on in times of trouble. But still it felt like something was missing. There was no one looking out for me on a daily basis for all the little things. Someone personally interested in and invested in my welfare. Someone to be a sounding board for my ideas and mundane concerns. Someone to feel really connected with and safe with.

I suspect it is possible to have a feeling of connection and safety like that if you are devoted to spiritual practice. I know that I have felt this way during times of intense meditation practice and times when I have been immersed in nature and away from the hustle and bustle of daily life. But I can’t be on meditation retreat all the time. I can’t leave my children to join the monastic community or become a hermit in the forest. I must be part of the world. And it is rough out there. Two heads are better than one in dealing with the demands of daily life in the world. A loving and committed relationship is like a safe haven.

For three years after the break-up of my marriage, I tried to find safe haven in myself. I took to heart all the advice that stresses the importance of “being happy on your own,” and that you don’t need a relationship to be happy. But I can honestly say now that it is not for me. I reached a certain level of independence and happiness as a single person, but there was always a nagging feeling underneath that I could not fight. The feeling that something was missing. The feeling that I belonged in a relationship. This is my nature. This is my karma.

Our True Teacher - Reality

“Laypeople live in the realm of sensuality. They have families, money, and possessions, and are deeply involved in all sorts of activities. Yet sometimes they will gain insight and see Dhamma before monks and nuns do. Why is this? It’s just because of their suffering from all these things. They see the fault and can let go. They can put it down after seeing clearly in their experience. Seeing the harm and letting go, they are then able to make good use of their positions in the world and benefit others…

The laypeople live in a certain kind of thoroughness and clarity. Whatever they do, they really do it. Even getting drunk, they do it thoroughly and have the experience of what it’s like. So, because of their experience, they may become tired of things and realize the Dhamma quicker than monks can.” Everything Arises, Everything Falls Away, Ajahn Chah, p 145-146

Wow. What an inspiring teaching from a great Master.

Throughout my years of following the teachings and practicing meditation, I have often had a strong desire to leave the world behind and become a Buddhist nun. I understand why this desire comes up. It is because I do see the suffering that worldly life can bring. I can see the suffering in me that results from complicated worldly and self-centered dramas. Drama from my daily activities trying to make a living and raise children. Drama from living in a society where everyone is trying to sell something, whether it be an object or an opinion. Everyone has their own idea of how things should be and that is what causes such conflict and drama in the world. The difference between how we want things to be and how they actually are, causes so much suffering.

This suffering is what causes us all to run to the churches, synagogues, temples, bars... One of my favorite scenes from The Simpsons is when the end of the world is coming to Springfield and all the people at the church run to the bar and all the people at the bar run to the church. We have this error in thinking that relief is somewhere out there. But wherever we are, that is where our practice is. We don’t need to go anywhere. When will we learn this? If we stop trying to escape this suffering, this suffering is what can actually wake us up.

We can take great pilgrimages to India or Thailand, we can go on three month retreats at Insight Meditation Society in Massachusetts, we can climb Mount Everest or hitchhike across Tibet, we can seek out great teachers and meditation masters in caves, but our lessons are not to be found out there. Peace is not to be found out there. It’s not actually even found in meditation or prayer. These are good tools for preparing the mind for peace, but it is not where it is actually found. Peaceful feelings in meditation are only temporary.

True peace is found in seeing and understanding the truth of the way things are, and having no battle with it. This is Dhamma, the truth of the way things are. And only we can see it for ourselves.

“Others’ words can’t measure your practice. And you don’t realize the Dhamma because of what others say. I mean the real Dhamma. The teachings others can give you are to show you the path, but that isn’t real knowledge. When people genuinely meet the Dhamma, they realize it directly within themselves. So the Buddha said that is is merely the one who shows the way. In teaching us, he is not accomplishing the way for us. We have to the that ourselves. Don’t wait for the salesman to do it. Once he’s made the sale, he takes the money and splits. That’s his part.” Everything Arises, Everything Falls Away, p 146

“Just this Dharma is the true teacher.” Everything Arises, Everything Falls Away, p 141

Welcome Change if You Want Love in Your Life

Things are changing. Love changes things. Love is changing my daily/weekly/monthly routines and habits. It is changing my thoughts about the future: thoughts about family structure, thoughts about living space, living habits and schedules. It is making me consider what is appropriate to share with my children and when and how do I do this right??

Since the separation over 3 years ago and the divorce being final over 2 years ago, I have gotten used to being a family of three – my two daughters and me. I have gotten used to doing everything myself: keeping house, cooking, shopping, fixing things that get broken, caring for the kids 5-6 days per week, etc. I have gotten used to having time to fill on the weekends I don’t have my kids and in the evenings when they are asleep (alone time that is sometimes desired, sometimes not). I have gotten used to being single. I have gotten used to making plans to do things by myself or with friends. I have gotten used to the dating scene. I have gotten used to keeping my kids out of my dating life. I have gotten used to being a little lonely and frustrated in the search for a beautiful man to share my life with.

I have gotten used to saying, “Next!” again and again in the dating scene, paging through profiles on internet dating sites, scrutinizing each potential candidate, ruling hundreds of men out, meeting a select few that passed my initial scrutiny to find some big incompatibility or to find there is no chemistry. The few men that I did choose, did not choose me in return. I was starting to think maybe I was being too picky. That my ideals were too high and perfectionistic. But I don’t think I have been too picky.

What I have been looking for is fairly straightforward and simple. All I have wanted is someone who is honest and responsible, has similar values and lifestyle as me with a mutual level of attraction. Just basic but critical qualities.

And just as I was about to take another break from dating, perhaps indefinitely, to go into a sort of sleepy hibernation all alone for the winter, I met the man who has woken me up and finally given me hope that what I have been wanting and waiting for actually exists! Not only does he meet my very basic criteria, he exceeds them and on top of that, he is just as crazy about me as I am about him.

I am 38 years old. I have had several great loves so far in my life. I am ready for the greatest love of my life. I am all grown up. I know what I need and want. I know what marriage means – I’ve been there already. I know what “happily ever after” actually is in reality. I am realistic about what a future with a man might be like.

I have no idea what the future holds for me, but I do know that I am willing to take a chance on love and find out. Let the transformation begin!

Right Understanding

I have been neglecting my blog a bit lately. I had such a fun and busy spring and summer with amazing experiences to write about and now I am settling in to fall, getting ready for the long Minnesota winter coming soon. The last several months were very busy and extroverted for me and now I am turning back inward. I am due.

My spiritual practice has been very informal and private for awhile now. I still feel well connected to the Buddhist path. It is the right path for me. But I have been taking a bit of a break from the sangha, the spiritual community. I have been feeling the need to reflect on my own true, personal understanding of the path and the practice.

I've been following this path steadily for the last 8 years. I have learned so much and experienced many moments of deep, true happiness. I feel like I should be cautious and not rest on my laurels too much, but at the same time, it is a good idea to stop and smell the roses once in awhile. My practice has truly made me a better person. It has made me a happier person.

There are so many important aspects of the practice. Generosity and morality being two key values. But even more important is the right understanding of these values. Personal understanding of the teachings that the Buddha gave us. Personal experience of the teachings.

For me, every life experience helps me better understand the teachings which help me better understand life experiences. I feel the pain of craving and I understand it. I feel the happiness of letting go and I understand it. I have a keen awareness of cause and effect.

It is this understanding that relieves suffering.

Bliss in the Wilderness

Stepping over rocks.
Breathing.
Feeling the weight of a canoe over my head, rising up and down.
Balancing.
Feeling the tension in my shoulders.
Breathing. Stepping.
Finding a rhythm.
Breathing.
Feeling the stretch of my arms above me steadying the canoe.
Lightly stepping to the music in my head:
“I’ll dance, dance, dance with my hands, hands, hands above my head, head, head, like Jesus said…”
Hidden in a private world under the canoe.

It was a rush to portage the canoe in the Boundary Waters. It was scary and challenging and ultimately a secret pleasure. I am so fortunate that there are canoes now made of such light Kevlar material that a person 5’2”, 105 pounds, 37 years old, and only in moderately good physical shape - can actually carry one successfully and with relative ease. Twenty years or so ago I never would have considered even trying to carry a canoe. Twenty years ago I don’t think my Dad would have considered letting me try.

Every year, like clockwork, my Dad would go on a trip to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness with all his buddies. I had sheepishly told him long ago that he should take me sometime, but I never pressed the issue. I was not crazy about the idea of having to carry stuff over portages. I didn’t think I’d be able to keep up. Didn’t think I could carry my weight. Didn’t think I could paddle well. Didn’t think I could cut it. I certainly was not interested in hanging out with a bunch of old men. My Dad and I could have gone on a trip on our own, but I wasn’t sure what I thought of that idea. What would we talk about? Both of us such introverted people. By the time I realized that it was ok for us to just hang out without much talking, he would be leaving the world in just a few short years thanks to pancreatic cancer…

My recent trip to the BWCA was a sort of pilgrimage. The woods and water were my Dad’s chapel. This is the place that he honored and longed for always. This is the place where God is. God’s Nature Creation, he called it.

Here is his list of “tips” that inspired me to take a trip to the BWCA at Sawbill:

How to Succeed at Fishing – by John Thielen

1. Stay dry and warm. Layer your outer gear.
2. Always have a back up rod & reel ready to go.
3. Have a “Lighter Side” attitude at all times.
4. Keep your Fillet Knife sharp.
5. Bring a propane torch to light fires in
any weather condition.
6. Getting “Skunked” doesn't
mean the fishing was not fun.
7. Make sure someone is
taking pictures.
8. Enjoy Gods Nature Creation
to the fullest.
9. Leave no trace.
10. Enjoy friends around the campfire time
and LAUGH A LOT!
11. Plan a trip via Sawbill to fish and camp
On Burnt Lake.
12. Cut out and eat the Walleye Cheeks.
13. Pack as light as you can, not like this...

A few months ago I decided I wanted to take this trip because my Dad had just done it in May of 2010, right before the cancer started to get the better of him. I figured if he could do it with cancer brewing inside his body at age 57, certainly a young woman of 37 in good health would have no trouble taking the same path that he did. This would be my first time paddling and portaging in the Boundary Waters. I decided to invite some companions for the four day excursion. I sent an email out to my friends in my meditation circle, a group called Dharma Friends, and the response was overwhelming. Only 9 are allowed in one group for a BWCA permit and there were several people that expressed interest but couldn’t go. So we had a solid group of nine people signed up to go. Some with BWCA experience and some without. All of us with a common aspiration of mindful living. Several of us would be meeting for the first time.

We started out at Sawbill Outfitters and picked up our rented canoes. The young guy working there showed us how to lift and carry them. He demonstrated it several times and made it look incredibly easy. After what seemed like a long time, we finally had everything packed up and put in the canoes. We didn’t do a very good job following my Dad’s advice about packing light. Several of my companions were excited about eating well on the trip and that made for some heavy packs. Ultimately though, it was SO nice to have such good food along with us. It was a good eating weekend!

We had about four miles between the outfitters and our destination, Burnt Lake. Three lakes and two portages. We started out on Sawbill lake, the longest distance of the three lakes. We were fortunate to have some folks with us skilled with map and compass and finding the portages went smoothly. Our plan was flexible since I didn’t know how long it would take us to get to Burnt Lake. We had all spent about six hours in the car to get up north so there was only a portion of the day left for paddling. I wanted to get to Burnt Lake before sunset, but we would be cutting it close. I didn’t want anyone to feel pushed if it turned out to take longer than expected. The back-up plan was to do just one portage and camp on the middle lake, Smoke Lake.

The first portage was tricky. For several of us, this was our very first attempt at portaging. The distance on land from Sawbill to Smoke was 100 rods, which is approximately 100 canoe lengths or 1/3 mile. That sure didn’t seem like much when I was planning the trip (I did a 24 mile hiking trip over 3 days last year so 1/3 mile seemed like nothing), but when we were actually there, unloading the canoes, putting packs on and picking up canoes, the short hike over rocks and hills seemed a bit treacherous. We had enough gear to make two trips back and forth. My canoe mate carried the canoe first. I followed her and picked it up half-way. She held up the canoe while I ducked underneath it. I still had my pack on and would be attempting to carry the 50 pound boat along with my 30 pound pack – a good 75% of my body weight! And I don’t work out or anything so this was a bit crazy. It was unbelievably heavy, but I gave it a shot. I walked slowly and was mindful of my breathing. I think I made it at least a good 10 rods and had to put the boat down to take my pack off. I put the boat back on my shoulders and it was much more manageable. I had over-exerted myself with both the pack and the canoe though so I took it easy and reached Smoke Lake with much relief. My face was red from the heat and physical exertion. Most of us had to go back to Sawbill Lake to get the rest of our gear. Going back I felt so light! I practically skipped back to get my pack. I felt a sense of accomplishment at having carried the canoe for the first time.

It was an awkward and clumsy re-loading of gear into the canoes. It seemed to take forever and I thought, “Oh my God, we are going to have to do this again several times there and back! So much work!!” Everyone looked a bit pained and tired already. But Smoke Lake was a small lake. It was was a quick paddle to the next portage and we were doing good on time. When we all finally got back on the water, people seemed to be in pretty good spirits as they paddled so I decided we were going to go for the next portage and make it to Burnt Lake.

Our scouts found the portage between Smoke and Burnt quickly and easily. This portage was 90 rods. I decided to carry the canoe right off the bat. My canoe mate lifted it up for me and I walked underneath, this time without my pack. I balanced it and started off on a nice pace. I was pretty tired at that point, but a second wind kicked in and I made it to the end of the portage all on my own. Those that didn’t carry canoes made the trip back for more gear. Loading the canoes again went much more smoothly this time. We were already starting to get a groove on with loading and unloading. And we were so close to our destination. I was getting excited! I was so proud of my friends for all their hard work over the portages. Our trip time from the Outfitters to camp was about four hours. We did a great job.

The first campsites were fairly close to the portage. The one on the south end of the bay was occupied. We headed off to check out the one on the north side of the bay. I had thought about checking out the island site, but it was already 6:00 pm. I knew it would take time to set up camp, get supper cooking and hang the food. We were all pretty exhausted from a long day of traveling, paddling and portaging. I got off the boat to scope out the site. It had four good tent pads with one that could fit two tents. There was a nice rocky shore for us to pull the canoes up to unload.

I had no idea which site my Dad and his buddies used to go to on Burnt Lake. I know that they went to the same one every year and I had seen pictures a long time ago but had no memory of what the site looked like. Since I was exhausted and not confident we would find the island site quickly, I decided we should go ahead and set up camp on the northern peninsula. A week after our trip, I looked through my Dad’s old BWCA pictures and the site they used looked a bit like the one we stayed at. Afterwards I found out that my Dad's group usually camped on the southern peninsula, but had also camped before at the island and at the northern peninsula which we stayed at this trip.

We got the gear unloaded over the rocky shore and pulled up the canoes. People looked pretty wiped out. I could feel myself becoming very irritated and frazzled. I suggested to everyone that before we start unpacking, we take a few minutes to re-center ourselves. The majority agreed. We sat on the logs that were set up around the fire grate and on the grass. I set the timer for 10 minutes and all was silent. It was unbelievably silent. I’m not sure I have ever experienced such silence. There was not even the remotest sound of traffic, planes, wind, not even any sparrows chirping at each other. There were very few mosquitoes or flies around us at that moment. I sat with a scattered mind and a migraine brewing, breathing in and out. This is how it is now… Near the end of our 10 minutes, some loons called and flew over us. I could hear the very loud swishing of wings directly above our heads. I opened my eyes and smiled. The bell rang and then we all went back to the chaos of camp set-up.

Even with our common aspiration of mindfulness, we were people with different personalities, backgrounds, and preferences. At the start of the trip, things were a bit chaotic and disorganized. Packing, portaging and setting up camp was a little complicated and tense. But mindfulness helped us get along most peacefully and establish beautiful new friendships among us. I loved being with a group of such mature and mindful people. Rather than seethe about conflicts that arose, we were able to re-group and talk about it. We worked through it and made sure everyone’s needs were cared for. Once camp was set-up and our duties assigned, the days that followed were easy and just lovely.

We had perfect weather and did day canoe trips, swimming, eating lots of good food, laughing, singing and drumming around the fire. We only had a few hours of rain one evening but got the tarp up just in time to huddle under and cook dinner. One of my afternoons was spent lounging in a hammock alone on the peninsula looking out at the trees and sun-sparkling water. It was blissful Samadhi (concentration, one-pointedness of mind, peace). At the bonfire, I thought of my Dad and felt like he was there with us. I took out the paper with his picture and biography and tossed it into the fire during a moment of silence and remembrance. Then we had fun turning the canoe upside down and using that and other items such as an aluminum water bottle as percussion, pounding out beats with hands and sticks around the fire as the moon rose.

By the end of the trip, we were a well-oiled machine. Monday morning pack-up went smoothly and easily. We already had the canoe-packing down and the portages on the trip back to Sawbill went so much more smoothly and easily than on the way out. I carried the canoe again for half of one of the portages and all of the final portage. The final portage I didn’t even have help lifting the canoe or setting it down. I got into a blissful zone under the canoe and it was easeful. I know Dad would have been proud of me.

We tried to take our time paddling back. We sang songs as we paddled. The scent of the water over the breeze was intoxicating. The sun reflected brightly on the water and we paddled joyfully. It seemed all too soon when we reached the shore at Sawbill Outfitters. But as we unloaded our gear and brought the canoes up on land, I felt a sense of pride and accomplishment, for myself and for all of us. We had a group picture taken, all of us dirty and stinky with proud smiles on our faces. We loaded up our cars and started the long drive home. We stopped at the famous Betty’s Pies for our celebratory lunch, then parted ways. Later in an email, one of my companions summed up the awesomeness of our trip perfectly: “The bliss of being in that wilderness and being with good friends is so amazing!” Until next time, my dear Dharma Friends!

It’s Just Vedana: Reflections on the (Rain) Forest Retreat

There is a sound I hear when my mind is clear and focused. It is not a high-pitched ringing sound like you might hear when you are underwater or leave a loud rock concert… It is a musical note that is sustained and continuous, like an organ pedal tone. When I concentrate on the sound, sometimes notes are added to it, as in a chord of music, or overtones of that note. I usually hear the sound during times of rigorous meditation practice. Sometimes it is faint, and sometimes it is so strong that there is no other thing happening in my mind. Sometimes it goes away completely. It is interesting, but no big deal really. I don’t think it means anything special. It is just an interesting experience. There is some pleasure I take from it though. It is very calming and at times very joyful.

I returned two days ago from a 7 day meditation retreat. I am still hearing the sound here and there, in-between the distractions of work, bills, keeping house and taking care of my kids. It is a pleasant reminder of those few days of stepping away from the world.

I was actually surprised that I did hear the sound this time. For this retreat, I had a management role so there were a lot of things I had to take care of in-between the periods of sitting and walking meditation. I didn’t expect to reach a very deep state of concentration since there were many retreat logistics to take care of. I had never managed a retreat before so I didn’t really know what might come up. I helped set-up, take-down, welcome people to the retreat, make announcements, keep an eye out for issues that might need to be addressed and address issues that were brought to my co-manager and me, usually via notes tucked into the manager’s folder on the bulletin board.

I love noble silence while on retreat. I love having the pressure off to be someone. It takes the pressure off to make good impressions socially. The silence makes it easier for me to see what is in my heart and mind. But as a manager, I had to do a lot of talking in order to make sure things were clearly communicated to the retreat participants and other staff. Even then it was still difficult to communicate clearly and well sometimes, as I tried the best I could to protect the atmosphere of silence.

Mistakes were made, some things were missed, and there were some things I neglected to bring to the retreat that I should have. It reminded me of putting on a theatrical production. Props go missing, people forget lines, people get sick… but the show must go on! Flexibility and improvisation keep the show going. When you forget a line in the play, you make one up and then keep moving forward. And later the cast and crew have a good laugh about it. Usually the audience is oblivious to the errors, or have a good laugh along with the cast and crew. In my experience of theater, there is a lightheartedness about it all. We put on the show because we love putting on the show.

I felt lighthearted and joyful managing the retreat. I took care of things that needed to be cared for, but kept it as light as possible. There were some people that needed some help during retreat and I took that very seriously. But things forgotten or minor things that went wrong were no big deal to me. My co-manager and I improvised. I did my best to take all feedback in stride and not take anything too personally. There was a bit of work involved in that regard. There were a few notes that pushed my buttons. And on retreat, when we are really looking deeply inside ourselves during long periods of quiet meditation, there really is nowhere to run from the defensive feelings that naturally popped up for me at times. But the beauty of not being able to run away is that when we examine the afflictive state closely, it loosens its hold on us more quickly. I sat with those feelings and realized how strong the urge is to protect my precious ego. I just wondered about that. I just held myself in compassion for being such a normal and vulnerable human being.

Perceptions are relative. People have different perceptions about things based on their conditioning and personalities. I am always careful not to label my own perceptions as absolute truth because of this. And I am careful not to take either praise or blame too much to heart. I received a bit of both of these as a retreat manager. I did my best and I learned some things. I served joyfully. I am happy with that.

Ajahn Chah used to ask the people that came to his monastery in Thailand: “Did you come here to die?” This practice is about destroying our self-centered points of view. It is about learning how to become self-less. It is about learning how to stop taking everything so personally and stop worrying about how I look to everyone else. The first step is to catch ourselves doing these things. Observe without judgment. Observe with compassion.

I was able to find some peace and clarity this past week - even as a retreat manager, even with mosquitoes, even with five straight days of nearly constant rain (yes, I said five). There were unpleasant physical sensations and pleasant physical sensations. “It’s just ‘vedana,’” Ajahn Chandako would tell us, about these pleasant and unpleasant sensations arising due to the conditions around us. We will not find true happiness by chasing down pleasant experiences and running away from unpleasant experiences. Only by accepting these experiences as the way it is, can we have peace. So I will end this little reflection with a section from the Vedana-Samyutta, translated by Nyanaponika Thera:

6. The Dart
"An untaught worldling, O monks, experiences pleasant feelings, he experiences painful feelings and he experiences neutral feelings. A well-taught noble disciple likewise experiences pleasant, painful and neutral feelings. Now what is the distinction, the diversity, the difference that exists herein between a well-taught noble disciple and an untaught worldling?

"When an untaught worldling is touched by a painful (bodily) feeling, he worries and grieves, he laments, beats his breast, weeps and is distraught. He thus experiences two kinds of feelings, a bodily and a mental feeling. It is as if a man were pierced by a dart and, following the first piercing, he is hit by a second dart. So that person will experience feelings caused by two darts. It is similar with an untaught worldling: when touched by a painful (bodily) feeling, he worries and grieves, he laments, beats his breast, weeps and is distraught. So he experiences two kinds of feeling: a bodily and a mental feeling.

"Having been touched by that painful feeling, he resists (and resents) it. Then in him who so resists (and resents) that painful feeling, an underlying tendency of resistance against that painful feeling comes to underlie (his mind). Under the impact of that painful feeling he then proceeds to enjoy sensual happiness. And why does he do so? An untaught worldling, O monks, does not know of any other escape from painful feelings except the enjoyment of sensual happiness. Then in him who enjoys sensual happiness, an underlying tendency to lust for pleasant feelings comes to underlie (his mind). He does not know, according to facts, the arising and ending of these feelings, nor the gratification, the danger and the escape, connected with these feelings. In him who lacks that knowledge, an underlying tendency to ignorance as to neutral feelings comes to underlie (his mind). When he experiences a pleasant feeling, a painful feeling or a neutral feeling, he feels it as one fettered by it. Such a one, O monks, is called an untaught worldling who is fettered by birth, by old age, by death, by sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief and despair. He is fettered by suffering, this I declare.

"But in the case of a well-taught noble disciple, O monks, when he is touched by a painful feeling, he will not worry nor grieve and lament, he will not beat his breast and weep, nor will he be distraught. It is one kind of feeling he experiences, a bodily one, but not a mental feeling. It is as if a man were pierced by a dart, but was not hit by a second dart following the first one. So this person experiences feelings caused by a single dart only. It is similar with a well-taught noble disciple: when touched by a painful feeling, he will not worry nor grieve and lament, he will not beat his breast and weep, nor will he be distraught. He experiences one single feeling, a bodily one.

"Having been touched by that painful feeling, he does not resist (and resent) it. Hence, in him no underlying tendency of resistance against that painful feeling comes to underlie (his mind). Under the impact of that painful feeling he does not proceed to enjoy sensual happiness. And why not? As a well-taught noble disciple he knows of an escape from painful feelings other than by enjoying sensual happiness. Then in him who does not proceed to enjoy sensual happiness, no underlying tendency to lust for pleasant feelings comes to underlie (his mind). He knows, according to facts, the arising and ending of those feelings, and the gratification, the danger and the escape connected with these feelings. In him who knows thus, no underlying tendency to ignorance as to neutral feelings comes to underlie (his mind). When he experiences a pleasant feeling, a painful feeling or a neutral feeling, he feels it as one who is not fettered by it. Such a one, O monks, is called a well-taught noble disciple who is not fettered by birth, by old age, by death, by sorrow, lamentation, pain, grief and despair. He is not fettered to suffering, this I declare.

"This, O monks, is the distinction, the diversity, the difference that exists between a well-taught noble disciple and an untaught worldling."

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