The Koan

 The koan arises naturally they say, and this way of looking at life is I think, worthy of some consideration. My koan is certainly tied up with fear. Fear which is closely tied to an appreciation of emptiness. It was by study of Zen Buddhism that I gained some clarity into the spiritual significance of what had previously been only a psychologically informed appreciation of my experience. Buddhism brought a wider philosophical understanding and the prospect of a greater peace than had been hoped possible. And more than this it brought a much greater depth and level of meaning to my life. Zen, by cutting straight to the heart of things with its uncompromising attitude to reality made what had been dimly understood and greatly felt and feared into a purpose. My understanding that things are so transient and vulnerable, clarified by the language of Buddhism as dependent origination, emptiness, made access to non-duality in the everyday a positive prospect. Couching this as the koan if I remember to see it that way, makes everything fuel to the fire of enlightenment. Through meditation both on and off the cushion and trying to keep to the precepts my experience might widen and deepen leading to a more compassionate, enriching life.

 Recently DC was talking about transcendence and perhaps having my koan in mind to some extent, I responded that those with an understanding of the spiritual significance of this are generally reluctant to speak of it for fear of doing harm, and he concurred. Altered states of consciousness, whether through meditation, music, dance, sex, alcohol or other drugs seem to have been a part of human experience for a very long time across many cultures. The harm or good any of this may cause depends upon intention, degree of awareness, precise details of the activity and energy expended. User beware! Let's consider that list a little: meditation, music, dance, sex, alcohol and other drugs. The first four have a history of links with spiritual practice, alcohol is a suppressant which blunts awareness and other than in small quantities to 'take the edge off' and promote a relaxed social mood is off very little benefit and can do a lot of harm. Drugs are numerous and dangerous. Some have a history of links to spiritual practice but generally not that held by established sanghas. Interestingly, there are current medical trials of psychedelics to help with anxiety and depression although they are not available as treatment options at this time. Aldus Huxley wrote of the 'reducing valve of the mind' and whilst I think we need take care with this notion there's something in it. Altered states of consciousness and transcendence have their place and if approached with the intention to surrender the self to the reality of the universe without craving experience can lead one to realise Buddha nature understanding that it's not an individual one but One that is. And then we return to the koan in daily life. Chop wood and carry water. These two aspects of life, form and emptiness, the mundane and the profound might be seen as an axis upon which I sit and struggle with fear, confusion and failing to keep the precepts, enjoy the vibrancy of life and its sensuality, play out past and create further karma... The koan unfolding. Unless any of these musings or the practices to which they refer result in greater compassion and ability to live happily causing minimal harm then they are at best useless but perhaps amusing and at worst harmful. Thankfully, the Buddha's recommendation to follow the 'middle way', steering us to the 'heart mind', does I believe, make the koan as indicated above, everything fuel to the fire of enlightenment. Which, when held by and holding the everyday struggles is an awfully magnificent prospect. The hour by hour experience is far less lofty.

I'm reading The Wild White Goose, the diaries of Roshi Jiyu Kennett during her time in Japan. There's a section in which the koan is discussed. Jiyu comments that people receive their koan at different times. This idea (of their koan) probably needs some 'unpacking' but the diaries don't go there and I don't feel confident to say much more than that the basic idea seems to match my experience. Jiyu goes on to point to the relationship of the size of the koan, the time one's had it and their degree of spiritual development. (The words used here aren't exactly hers, I'm aware that this sentence is fraught with possible confusion and it's difficult to be clear about the nature of temporality.) In this way of looking at things I think I may have received my koan at birth. I was induced, it was a difficult labour and I was cot nursed for the first couple of days. I imagine this was a stressful entry to the world. But who knows? I developed into a sensitive, cautious child. The koan was given further complexities as I developed OCD at about 9 years of age and realised I was gay at about 13 or 14. So, an interesting 'grab bag' of karma which by placing me in some respects outside the 'norm' has I think, given me or forced me to gain insight. These days I'm hard pressed to say where the size of my koan and the level of insight and/or spiritual development (that's not the right word) and the unfolding karma leave me. But such is the nature of koans.

Waves and Stars

I am ready to admit that I am not going to 'make it' as a mystic. Yes there have been perhaps glimpses but basically I'm not given to it. Whilst it can't ever be ruled out, I've 'looked in to' my disposition for long enough and from various 'angles' and attempted to neither 'look' nor not 'look' in to what 'angles' arise and I see my koan arising time and again and it becomes apparent, or so it seems, that I'm really held so tightly by the koan that the jewel of direct appreciation is likely to remain for me a distant star by which I might at best steer but whose warmth is too distant to feel. I think it's fair to say I've not chased such 'warmth' in any event but I've tried to live in such a way that there might be the possibility... And this was because without doing so... without the star, there would be the darkness, however bright the lights of the everyday, there would be revealing them the darkness and the awful fear that one day it would cloud in so close and dense that the lights would only serve to illuminate it rather than each other. And I say ready to admit because as the image of the star grows so dim and the realisation that the fear arguably at the root of the koan is likely part of the landscape of experience for life then meaning and acceptance become as ever, the koan. Which is a roundabout way of saying that, that what? Indeed! And so I continue to put one foot in front of the other, observe the koan, struggle with the practicalities of the current situation and know that whilst there is inflection in my relationship with dharma there remains that star both distant and right here. The living dharma isn't negated or otherwise by an individual experience mystical or otherwise. 

Yesterday walking through the dunes (the tide was high and the beach impassable in places) back towards Warkworth DC and I conversed infrequently, rather we enjoyed the stunning vistas. Our walk was slightly longer in distance and time than typically it would have been due to the circuitous route up and down dunes trying to stay close to the sea yet out of its waves. It was frosty and in places slippery. However, at one point we came back to a familiar subject - consciousness. In different ways and with different language we converged around the question - are the physicalists right, is consciousness a product of complex physical structures and that's it OR is matter something that comes out of consciousness? Chickens and eggs? Well, actually the question was a bit more nuanced and the discourse somewhat more dendritic but I've not the impetus right now to go into the detail. Suffice to say we were of a mind on the unknowable nature of all this.

Just what is our true nature? It would be easy to write here something relatively smooth and affirmative, something pointing to that distant star which is right here and now. In truth, the question hangs and the thoughts and feelings are mixed and muddy. DC and I are fortunate, right now there is much strife and pain in the world yet we are relatively protected. There are some difficult problems with which we must interact and find ways of meeting and moving forward. Some of those have triggered past trauma and that is very challenging to sit with, find the way to place each foot and live each day. And so the ways we are fortunate and the ways I am dealing with trauma blend in a complex way and it is far from easy.

Sometimes the dharma is clear and there is joy. These are the times of peace and equanimity and wisdom seems simple. Sometimes the challenges are great, one is overwhelmed, it's difficult to find firm ground and wisdom seems elusive or at least one struggles to be settled by it. If one truly knew such times would end soon and all would be well we might better be able to steady ourselves in the storm, or possibly not.

I look forward to Christmas in the Scottish highlands with friends. Although the Findhorn Foundation has all but gone there remain embers and maybe one day something may rise phoenix like. Some of my friends there sit in the post covid flux and try to respond as best they can with a willingness to serve. For my own part, whilst I'd not seen myself returning to live in the community it's been saddening to witness its demise. The FF was a gateway for me and we served each other with a depth not necessarily apparent and I do feel it to have been my spiritual home. At times the 'floopyness' would infuriate me but more often times it was only holding a mirror to my inability to relax, trust and be confident that good enough was good enough. Riding the waves and trusting isn't something I find any easier as the decades pass, or maybe I do... Sometimes the waves engulf me but I've not forgot the stars. And beside me is DC who always keeps an eye on them.

Trauma

I feel the past couple of years have shown me the limit of my ability to stay centred, present in the here and now, spacious and accepting. Things have been very tense and stressful for most of the time we've all been going through the pandemic. Certainly the lockdowns and restrictions contributed to the stress but I suspect my OCD may have flared up anyway. Sometimes there's no knowing why it will come out of what might be called remission and take a hold. Over about four and a half decades it has shifted shape, and waxed and waned. For most of the past two decades its focus has been around technical errors and the potential harm which could result. We grow and become more experienced and with this improved vision our past actions however well intentioned can seem foolish. OCD will find the chinks, amplify the uncertainty, pick away at the action, see only the worst possible outcome and thus derive the worst possible intention. It's very draining. And so it was for a lot of 2020. Then early this year we started the process of moving house and eventually moving in May. As ever there are unforeseen issues. These coupled with the stresses of the previous year and my patterns around major transitions have left me strung out and often knocked off centre. My OCD has waned to be replaced by the fear it has tried for most of my life to control. This fear is only partly articulated in my mind but viscerally it manifests with an intensity varying from a sickly unpleasantness to an overwhelming fire. At its worst my body and mind are consumed with pain and I cannot think straight. The rational mind has generally been my safe place - the problem arises, I analyse it, determine the necessary actions and regain 'control'. To have this function compromised is, for me a most uncomfortable position. And yet some part of me having spent so much time in control now feels exhausted and whereas in the past I would always want to be in or very close to the driving seat, now I find a child in me arises and just want to have it resolved by someone else. In truth there's so much exhaustion that it seems I can't access properly the dynamic, creative energies required to operate in those ways. And whilst I've always held that Zen Buddhist practice is a practice without set intention, without trying, without expectation, a salvation not to be seen as good for anything (take aim for no target without trying) and yet still full of engagement, I have found since the autumn that the intensity of the situation is too great to sit with. And so I have stopped formal meditation. I am looking at the limits of what practice / training / call it what you will has been able to move. And practice has moved those limits, I know. Not just moved, but changed. I shall be forever grateful to the dharma for illuminating depths I'd no idea were there, turning up the colour when I likely thought the world only existed in monochrome and providing a lens through which to see in such a way that the view, the lens and I were if not one then not separate either but more importantly that this need not be a frightening aspect of experience as I fancy it had been in childhood. Which is to say that the impermanence of things is rooted in an emptiness which is as least as full and creative as it is destructive. That the flow of life is sacred in ways which are inexplicable and yet at the same time tangible. For all this I am grateful. And the fact remains that like most people what brought me to the dharma was the wish to find a place where the pain would not ever be so great as to destroy me. And I knew the danger of this. I knew that what was needed was to become as they say 'like willow'. It is I think through practicing with the heart and the mind that this is done. And so I have I think it fair to say absorbed the dharma in to daily life - practice off the cushion is where it's at. And yet as I write I am not well. I am distressed and overwhelmed. The pot of my awareness boils over with the porridge of my experience and the years of practice are not able to expand that awareness so as to remain centred. Forgive the clumsy metaphors.

In all this I am blessed with DC. I love him and see him love me in a reciprocity which illuminates the sacred. It is a mystery to me that my fear in our current situation is so great that it incapacitates me despite the enormity of our love. And through this mystery I return to a wound I think. A wound which has festered in me and from time to time driven DC I am sure to distraction. His light and optimism perplexed by the fear which at times takes a steely grip of my being. He has over almost thirty years been the most wonderful partner. I find certain kinds of change seem to trigger me and fortunately DC seems able for the most part to hold that. I'm blessed. Briefly he and I touched on the Jungian idea that at some point our psyche reaches a stage when it looks to old wounds to heal and integrate them. Seeking out situations in life where this may play out. There's something in this I think. And I notice there is in it the notion of growth and direction which in their turn imply the idea of something to grow. At my best I can identify with a Self as an interconnected web of life. That we all live in each other and more. But this seems at present insufficient to dispel the awful fear of... of what? I could list practical, tangible issues and yes they are not insignificant but there's something else, something as I said above which is only partly articulated yet quite visceral. I'm prepared to see that what I'm describing here is trauma. Not necessarily some big trauma but perhaps the death of a thousand cuts which in someway(s) takes our vitality and freedom. What I'm struggling with right now is not being able to have the confidence that whatever comes along that I can find and rest in my true home - my own being - centred and capacious in as they say a playful samadhi.

Randolph's Leap

I'm spending a few days in Scotland resting and hopefully recovering from the after effects of covid. I'm determined not to name this long covid or post viral syndrome etc. although I clearly have some kind of post viral fatigue. It feels like the exhaustion and light headedness of a hangover (but thankfully without the throbbing headache). I seem to have about half a day's worth of energy before I feel foggy and tired. I've worked right through the whole thing including the stresses of our recent house move but I've got to the stage where I know I have to slow right down and rest - my head gets too foggy to keep reading all the work emails, processing them and responding efficiently. I wasn't too badly affected by covid but this ongoing fatigue is starting to get to the stage where I'm not able to function properly. In truth it comes on top of a hugely stressful period and it's clear to me that my system has just decided to put the brakes on as it were.

So, today after a leisurely breakfast and gradually getting ready to go out I took a short drive over to Logie steading and somewhat half heartedly perused the second hand book shop and art gallery before getting some lunch. I then drove the short distance to Randolph's leap and ambled by the river and amongst the trees before returning (somewhat fatigued) to the car to head back here to my lodgings. I'm feeling a strange mix of tired, light headed, generally blah and as if I might pass out - although I'm fairly sure I wont! I'm definitely ready for this malaise to be gone! Here's some pictures which alas fail to capture the swirling waters of the Findhorn river:

About two thirds up the picture a white patch is actually two mounds of froth circling each other in an eddy

The froth is actually swirling

 

Even the roots of trees seem to swirl

The river heads towards the narrow gap of Randolph's leap

The movement of the river unlike the typical charging, constant roar of fast water in a gorge is a mix of smooth flowing flat water, rapid lively energetic cascade, foam and above all there is a swirling motion which seems to be in a constant state of flux as far as speed and patterns go. And somehow there is a (sort of visual) polyphony to all this. And as has happened to me before in this place I'm suddenly aware of something else. I look about and standing all around are the trees - still in meditation. I would not have been surprised to have seen something out of our everyday experience in the spaces between the trees, between the river and the trees, between the stillness and the motion... It has been said that this is a place where the 'vail between the worlds is thin'. Best not to go into such musings too much me thinks. And it's obvious why anyone might say such things here though. I had been studying the water for a while and looked up at the rocks and in some visual equivalent of sea legs the rock squirmed for some time and was not still in my vision. It settled and I looked again at the swirling waters then back at the rock, again this strange and slightly alarming visual illusion - the rock in motion. I turned my attention to the trees and their bright autumn colours. The sun was very weak but there was just enough golden light to bring vibrancy to the foliage. I spent a little time walking down to the confluence with the river Divie before heading back to the path to the road where I noticed the path continuing upstream. I walked a short way to see the cascading river Findhorn approaching the narrow gap of Randolph's leap. The river the other side of the gap is so full of flux and the thought came to me that from upstream the gap appeared like a birth canal into a new life for the waters of the river. Certainly there were many 'dramas' ahead as the water would pass through rapids, eddies, smooth powerful turns, calm pools and many more ways of being. There would be changes in hue, lustre and depth, dressings of foam and interplay with rock and air. And much more would be happening below the waters than I could know of even having seen the gentle boiling of currents from the depths coming to the surface. The river seemed an allegory for our own lives - we enter this world through the birth canal and the currents of our existence flow on - our life a complex of streams flowing, weaving, making us moment by moment. Yet the trees stood largely still with only the slightest of swaying to the minimal breeze. Stillness was present too. In this place these two aspects of our existence seem so present and clear to perceive. And there is something, something... whatever. And I thought - oh, is this just my habit to relate experience to form and emptiness? I could hear DC chiding me playfully. I walked back to the car feeling tired headed back for a cuppa and a rest.

Dance

I just did a zoom session with the dance collective I usually dance with. We danced at home in lockdown to the music and connected as best we could through the small video images and chat log. I quite quickly felt so sad; memories of dancing together in a public space with the feel of the floor, the space, the people, the sounds, the altar, the hugs and smiles... all so many months ago. And it's not just a social dance, no, it's the heart connection; the inner and outer connection; beings together setting aside the wrestling with any struggles to just be in them and to feel the space, the vast vast space that holds us, and to dance it. To dance it what ever it is, good, bad or indifferent, happy and joyous or more difficult. To hold a space for ourselves and each other, to let the body feel it and breath and move. Oh how my body mind and spirit need that. No wonder I've felt ill at ease without quite being able to say what was the trouble... oh sacred space to dance how we need this.

I've not been doing these zoom dance sessions as I found at the start of lockdown that they didn't really work for me. But I'm glad I had this connection. The dance at the physical level was little more than a jig about, barely a warm up by my usual energies BUT the memory of breathing and dancing oh so important! Dance dance wherever you may be...

Oh how I hope we can all dance together again soon!

Heart

I've been rather busy of late, which is good, and although I've been visited a few times by the blog writing muse I've been too tired to sit down and pull a post together. However, last night DC and I went with two friends to see the movie Demolition and I was so moved I felt I must write a short post. I found this a really moving tale of love and the search for authentic connection in life. What really came across for me is the shear enormity of the human heart and its capacity to expand in the face of the vastness of life's challenge. And what is beautifully portrayed in this movie is the way our connections and loves like life are so complex and yet so simple, the way there's a real warmth in the acceptance of what is and letting go our fantasies of a 'perfect' self, a perfect life. However painful, life is its own perfection whether we like it or not. This is the message that comes out of this at times bizarre tale.

Life & Death

I've just been in the garden cutting the grass and tidying up. It's still looking green and quite lush even though the flowers have now all but gone. Adjacent our garden is a communal plot and some time ago a tree was removed. Putting the clippings in the compost bin I see that the roots seem to be food for this crop of mushrooms! You can see the tree stump (flat to the grass) just left of centre in the picture.

Mushrooms are the fruiting body of a fungus. Fungus forms an important part of the decay process, helping to breakdown wood and recycle the material. This picture shows part of the death of the tree root and the life of the fungus. But whenever I see fungus I can't help but focus on the decay side more than life side of this process. For me, fungus is a process of death. I think this is something to do with the fact that we are so connected with sunlight. Growth for us is connected with light. Plants are green to assist with photosynthesis. Fungus uses the work of the plant it is consuming to get its energy.

New job

I start a new job on Monday. I'm looking forward to 'getting stuck in'!
It's a role I've enjoyed in the past and the signs are that this role could be more rewarding.
As ever, life will throw up challenges and after a long search the job may prove an anti-climax. But that too would be just great! I was interested to read Ajahn Sucitto's blog post regarding roles. A timely reminder for me as I start a new role.

Blessings to you Lee

A number of times over the past few weeks I've thought to write about what was unfolding. Usually it's been one of those times when both the drama of human life and the stillness holding the drama have been visible to me. Those times when it's possible to see not just (possibly unreasonable) behavior but the pain generating it in an other person together with a sense of my own emotional response and an awareness of holding the situation without becoming it (well, at least not too much). The extent that 'the master is at home' varies in my day to day experience and there is nothing like a bit of a drama to let me see just how aware I am; do I get hooked and carried away in habitual response or remain present and compassionate? Those were the seedlings of a post, but the time and energy to write did not collided; the muse eluded me. Then a friend pointed me in the direction of Lee's blog Future Health 2020. Reading it I feel Lee writes well and conveys the depth of his journey. In this post Lee writes of 'the call to action' inspired by this:

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor (sic) all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s couplets:

Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it!” 

 William Hutchinson Murray (1913-1996), from his 1951 book The Scottish Himalayan Expedition.

I first came across these words when doing The Mastery workshop some years ago. The workshop was originally developed by Dan Fauci and the one I did was run by amongst others, the very insightful India Brown who lives and works in the Findhorn Foundation. It's probably fair to say that a slight 'Findhorn twist' is given to the presentation of the workshop (by virtue of the language used) as it is run by India. The 'call to action' was however, very much a part of the workshop. What holds us back? What stops us living each day as if this (moment) is all there is? It could be a projection, but I've a feeling Lee is taking a moment grabbing approach to his journey with non-Hodgkin lymphoma and I imagine it will take him to a deep part of himself, a part that in its stillness holds all. Blessings on you Lee, keep putting one foot in front of the other doing what the moment is asking of you with as much heart as you can muster. There is a majesty in that.

Parents at Cluny

My parents are visiting me here at Cluny. They seem to be enjoying the place. The Findhorn Foundation is a lot of different things to a lot of different people. I wonder what it will be to them. Mother has very limited mobility but the spark still burns bright and dad is as easy as an old shoe sitting with the smokers outside in the smoking shelter. They are just happy to be. Folks here put a lot of effort into just being. My parents seem to do it without that much fuss. After what they have been through they really do seem to take it (life) as it comes. Interestingly, I notice that since my parents hardly ever go anywhere their world seems so much smaller than that of the globe trotters that pass through here. But is it? The koan arises naturally and does seem to ripen us.

RM Mugo's post on Jade Mountains prompted me to leave a comment referencing an earlier Jade Mountains post:

http://www.jademountains.net/out-fertile-slime#comment-16110  

Mirrors, Miracles and Magic

Contrast of hot tulips and cold snow 

Enticing Orange

Second shoot and three new blooms

I was wondering just what was 'up' for me enough to write about, and then I reviewed some photos. Although the 'amaryllis series' seemed at an end, the flowering of a second shoot prompted me to take an other photo. The geranium flower has a hint of blue in the pink and clashes a bit with  deep red but I still find the display a delight on my windowsill. Earlier I'd taken a photo of a lovely sea food curry made by DC which we had shared with a friend; the colours were just so enticing. And before that I'd been taken by the contrast of the tulips and the snow. Spring had been interrupted by heavy snow (which caused a fair bit of damage to trees), but the tulips (and the forsythia beyond) shone bright.

Living in a community with quite a few 'new age' ideas I find people coming out with all sorts of  things. One aspect of this which can trigger my alarm bells is anything which seems to be about something outside of the everyday coming to 'save us'; miracles and magic if you will. Such stuff is enticing and plays to our human need for a super being (a parent) to make all the troubles go away. To me this is not spiritual but all too human. For me the miracle and magic is that we live in a world and have the awareness to perceive the splendor and complexity in the scenes of the photos above. That we can talk of the blue in the pink and the clash with the deep red is in its self a remarkable thing. There is no need to look for salvation in fanciful 'out there' theories. The koan as they say naturally arises. We need to look at what life is asking of us; what wood needs to be chopped. What do we create when we are just our undefended selves doing what we do. It can be like magic when we work with our talents and gifts responding to the everyday. What is before our very senses that we are failing to notice? Life throws up plenty to mirror our internal world and spirituality lies in the wisdom of the heart-mind to square the circle of our human lives. It is both simple and complex, obvious and a mystery. We know so little and yet so much and the more we work out the more we find to work out. The suffering which causes us to seek salvation is part and parcel of the wonder of life and the heart connection we share with each other. Is that not enough? I once heard a little bit of Adorno and asked DC for the text. DC's favorite, bringing a lump to his throat is the second quote, but it is the first that I recall:

‘Grayness could not fill us with despair if our minds did not harbor the concept of different colors, scattered traces of which are not absent from the negative whole.’

(Adorno, Negative Dialectics, 377–8.)

‘Peace is the state of distinctness without domination, with the distinct participating in each other.’

(Adorno, ‘Subject and object’, in The Essential Frankfurt School Reader, ed. Andrew Arato and Eike Gebhardt (Oxford: Blackwell, 1978), 497–511 (p. 500).)