Just Sitting Mindfully

I like to think of zazen or meditation as just sitting mindfully. You don't do anything for a while. You slow down. No, more than slow down. You stop.

You plop your butt down on a pillow or meditation cushion, you face a blank wall, you cross your legs in whatever comfortable fashion you can do, you place your hands in a similarly comfortable position, either palms up or down and on your knees or your right hand in your lap and your left hand on top of your right hand with your thumbs lightly touching, you wiggle and adjust until you get comfortable, you get still, you sit still, you keep your eyes open, and you breathe.

You notice your breathe. Maybe you count your breath up to ten and then start over again. Maybe you just keep breathing  and noticing your breath whenever you can. Over and over again.

Your mind will wander. You'll think of things: the past, the present, the future; the mundane, the ordinary, the extraordinary, the profound; the things you need to pick up at the grocery store, the ways you'd like to improve yourself.

And when you realize you've thought all this stuff, just return to your breath. Set aside the thought right now and return to your breath.

Maybe you'll start thinking about that thing again. You'll finish that grocery list in your head because that's what you plan to do right after you meditate. That's okay.

Sometimes you'll spend the entire time thinking. Sometimes you'll return to your breath often. Sometimes your mind will feel clear and spacious. You'll think eureka! This is it! This is meditation! This is enlightenment! This is the blank mind the Zen masters speak of! This is what I want when I meditate! But this thinking is an illusion, because meditation isn't about any of this.

Meditation is about just sitting. Just sitting there and no matter what happens in your mind, sitting for a bit. That is what is important. That is what just sitting is about. You took the time to stop and sit. Whether it's 10 minutes or 15 or 25 or 35 minutes. Whatever you did. Fantastic! You carved out time from your day and you just sat.

Moment of Mindfulness Before Eating

This is what I say before I eat:

As I eat and drink I accept and appreciate the present moment, and acknowledge, awaken to, and act upon what life is teaching me. 

 Most people would call it a prayer.  I like to consider it a moment of mindfulness before I eat. 

My moment of mindfulness is a variation of the chant we recited at the Cedar Rapids Zen Center and which is chanted in most Zen Centers.  I wanted to remove some of the Buddhist words,   I'm interested in “Americanizing” Zen, in particular by changing Sanskrit, Chinese, or Japanese words into their English counterparts. 

Here is what the original meal chant is: 

As we take food and drink I vow with all sentient beings to rejoice in zazen being filled with delight in the Dharma. 

Zazen is the form of sitting meditation in Japanese Zen.  Zen is a Japanese word which means meditation, derived from the Chinese word chan which was derived from the Indian source, the Sanskrit word dyhana, which means meditation.   In its simplest form zen means meditation.  In its complexity, it means taking what we learn in meditation into our everyday life.  The infamous saying “chop wood, carry water” captures this idea of doing what we are doing, whatever it is, even and especially those fundamental activities that sustain us.  Beyond that, there is nothing else.  It is nothing special as American Zen teacher Charlotte Joko Bend reminds us. 

To rejoice in zazen means to rejoice in meditation.  The “za” in zazen means “just”.  Zazen is just meditation.  The emphasis means that when we are meditating we are only meditating.  We are  doing nothing else.  We are just sitting there.  If only it were this easy though!  Just sitting can me physically difficult when we feel restless and fidget and adjust and attempt to get comfortable.  Just sitting can also be mentally difficult because we are left alone with our thoughts and our effort to not think   However, we are going to think.  That is our nature as human beings.  Our minds will race to past events.  We will wonder and worry about the future.  We will become increasingly aware of the present moment.  This is good. This is the goal of mediation: to become aware of and appreciate the present moment, the moment right there on the cushion as we are meditating. 

I like to think of zazen or meditation as just sitting mindfully.  You don't do anything for a while.  You slow down.  No, more than slow down.  You stop.   You get very still.  Whether it's 10 minutes or 15 or 25 or 35 minutes, you carved out time from your day and you just stopped and sat still and developed mindfulness.  You mindfully sat. 

This is where Zen kicks in.  We take that awareness and appreciation of the present moment we gained in meditation into every moment of our lives.  This is our practice over and again with each new moment. 

“Rejoicing in zazen” always surprised me because “rejoice” is not a word I ever encountered in the dozens of books I've read by Japanese or American Zen teachers.  Rejoice reminds me of songs sung in Lutheran churches and Christmas carols.  It sounds so pentecostal and exuberant.  My idea of Japanese Zen was one of quiet contentment and at times austerity and stoicism. Perhaps this is the lesson of spiritual surprise and dissonance.  So instead of “I rejoice in zazen” I played with the words and after several attempts landed on and like “I accept and appreciate the present moment”.  It's something I know I need to remind myself of daily and so including it in my before meal thought strengthens me.  It is, I believe, the essence of Zen. 

The next part of the traditional chant is “delight in the Dharma.”  Dharma is the teaching of Buddhism.  It is the books, the teachers, the tradition, the rituals.  Dharma is also life itself as our teacher when we realize that if we are willing to learn life itself is the greatest teacher on how to live a good life.  Therefore in my prayer I substituted “what life is teaching me” for Dharma.  I like the implication that life is an active teacher and that it is teaching me.  I might not always know this.  I might not always like what it is teaching me.  I might feel like it's teaching me the same things over and over again in different ways because I haven't learned it yet.  But, as I say in my prayer, if I acknowledge, awaken to, and act up on what life is teaching me, then I will learn.

Again, the word “delight” in the original Zen prayer surprised me.  Similar to “rejoice” I didn't read or hear “delight” used often by Zen teachers.  It conjures up chocolate desserts and close friends who tell you they're going to visit you. What a delight!  “The Dharma: what a delight!” doesn't ring a Zen bell for me.  “Acknowledging, awakening to, and acting upon” does.  Again, I played with the words over several months and settled into this.  It asks me to act upon what I have acknowledged and awakened to.  Life is acting upon what we intuit we must do.  Life is doing it.  I like the reminder. 

So there it is.  My moment of mindfulness before eating:  As I eat and drink I accept and appreciate the present moment, and acknowledge, awaken to, and act upon what life is teaching me. 

But why have a moment of mindfulness before I eat? 

I have a moment of mindfulness, because it's a mental reminder three or more times a day to practice the essence of my spirituality:  accept and appreciate the present moment and acknowledge, awaken to, and act upon what life is teaching me.  I have a moment of mindfulness, because I want to take a few seconds before I eat and offer thanks for this moment of eating.  I have a moment of mindfulness because I want to be grateful for a meal I prepared for myself or someone prepared for me, and that I could afford this meal.  I have a moment of mindfulness because I want to be aware of the interconnectedness of existence that placed this food on my plate.  I have a moment of mindfulness because I want to mindfully engage my six senses  when I eat—mindful tasting, mindful seeing, mindful touching, mindful hearing, mindful smelling, and mindful thinking-feeling. 

And what is a moment of mindfulness?

A moment of mindfulness is that which we think or say over and over again.  A moment of mindfulness thought or said before we eat meals reminds us to take heed of the moment: we are about to eat.  Be thankful.  Food and liquid sustain us.  Not all people in the world are so fortunate to have it so easily and in such amble abundance. A moment of mindfulness said at other times, such as before we go to bed, is typically a triage of thankfulness for the day, bequest for the best, and compassionate extension of well being to people we love and ideally even those we don't.

At this time I don't have a moment of mindfulness at the end of the day.  Perhaps it will emerge.   

I do, however, have my moment of mindfulness before meals and I think or say it at virtually every meal now.  If I'm in public or eating with friends I can usually just sit there for a few seconds and most of them don't know I've even thought it.  A few observant people have and have simply asked if I just prayed.  I usually say, “I'm just having a moment of mindfulness.   My moment of mindfulness grounds me.  It places me firmly and yet tenderly in the moment. 

And like I take what I've learned while meditating--mindfully sitting—into the other moments throughout my day, so too I take what I've learned while mindfully eating into the other moment of my day.  My goal is to become more mindful in all of them.  .   

May you also.  

When Opportunity Knocks at the Zen Door of Awakening

Opportunity happens when it happens.  Sometimes it's when we want it to happen and the timing seems perfect.  Other times, although we sense it is a great opportunity, the timing seems wrong.  We doubt the opportunity and whether we should take it. 

But we should take it, despite the obstacles that might appear to be in our way.  Most of those imaginary impediments are own mental machinations, our monkey mind.  We expect things to be perfect and when they aren't we get angry at or anxious with the moment.  We question the validity of and verisimilitude of now.   However, we need to set aside all of our attachments and expectations for what the opportunity should be and let it emerge naturally, with all of its inherent chaos, complications, and complexity.  

Because of this messiness, we may not realize that the opportunity is the perfect thing to happen in our lives.  But opportunity always happens at the right time.  Like every moment, opportunity is the interconnected present moment created by our  past and shaping our future.  It always happens because, whether we realize it or not, opportunity is teaching us something we need to learn in life.    

Ezra Bayda, head teacher at the Zen Center of San Diego states in his book, Saying Yes to Life (Even the Difficult Parts), “The Zen mind speaks with strength, saying 'Just do it!'  The Zen heart speaks softly, saying 'Just let it be.'”

So we must balance “just do it!” and “just let it be” to reside and abide in the moment.  The two pop culture axioms are the twenty first century yang and yin of awareness.  Our postmodern koan.  If we can move forward in the moment with this equilibrium then we can accept and appreciate the present moment, awaking to and acting upon what life—this opportunity—is teaching us. As Ezra Bayda also states in his book, “Everything that happens offers an opportunity to awaken.”  So we take the opportunity because we know that by doing it and going through with it, we will awaken to the moment and to our lives.  This is the practice, the process, and the product of Zen. 

Loneliness: A Jewel of Discontent

I wrote this reflection in June of 2012. I hesitated to share this because I feared people would judge me. They would think I'm pathetically lonely. They would feel sorry for me. And yet, as I pondered it, I realized that my unease and dissatisfaction with the present moment is not specific to me. Loneliness, if that is what I am experiencing when I have these overwhelming moments of existential dissatisfaction, is universal. Maybe you're not experiencing loneliness but you're experiencing some other form of suffering—depression, anger, fear, betrayal, rejection. And so, by writing this and sharing it with you, I hope I can help you as I have helped myself. That is the essence of a community of people seeking to help each other.    

Things are better now in October 2012 when I post this.  I've worked through a lot of emotions-thoughts-attachments-expecations I had surrounding being alone.  I've enjoyed my solitude for almost two months.  Two weeks in Utah taught me a lot about myself and life.

So here it is:

It's never happened before.  It happens when I least expect it.  And yet, now that it's happened three times within the last month, I've realized when I should expect it.  It happens when I have a chunk of time and nothing to do and I'm alone. 

I'm alone a lot since I'm single and live by myself.  I'm use to the solitude.  In fact, for the majority of the time, I want the solitude.  I enjoy the solitude.  So that this feeling/thought has happened surprises me, and in a subtle way, scares me. 

What is it I'm feeling?  I feel lonely.  I feel alone.  I feel unhappy with my life.  I feel bleak.  It's what Ezra Bayda, head teacher at Zen Center San Diego describes as “the anxious quiver of being.”  It's not  a panic attack.  I've never had a panic attack but from what people who have one have described it as I know it's not a panic attack.  It's an uneasiness, an unpleasantness, a desperate want to change the current situation and the life I'm living that produces this moment. 

It's what in Buddhism we understand as suffering although suffering is a word we've translated from the word dukkha and suffering doesn't really capture what dukkha means.  Yongey Mingpur Rinpoche states in his book Joyful Wisdom: Embracing Change and Finding Freedom, states that dukkha means “the pervasive feeling that something isn't quite right: that life could be better if circumstances were different; that we'd be happier if...”    

My anxiety starts out small: I wish I had something to do or someone to spend time with right now and it spirals into something big, something out of control: I'm too much of an introvert, I dislike my life, I dislike the choices I made that led me to this moment, I want another reality. I'll never get that reality, I'm stuck, it's going to be like this for the rest of my life.  When I have this loneliness, this anxious quiver of being, this existential awareness of self, I dislike the moment.  I want the moment to stop.  I want another moment, a moment where I'm happy and content and with people or with myself and at ease. 

That's when I tell myself to stop.  Stop telling myself the story that isn't true.  That's when I tell myself to breathe.  That's when I tell myself to just be here with this, to stay at home, and live through this. 

Robert Frost said, “The best way out is always through.”:  So I become mindful. I become aware.  I notice what I'm feeling and thinking..  I tune it to what I'm experiencing.  I befriend the uneasiness.  Not always easy to do.  In fact, I think these thought and feelings are anything but a friend.  They are the enemy.  I think I shouldn't be feeling/thinking this.  Where did this negative thought come from?  I want to get rid of it as soon as a I can. 

And yet, I remind myself that even though I consider myself a Zen Buddhist that doesn't mean I will only and always be content, peaceful, or happy.  In fact, after almost fifteen years of considering myself a Zen Buddhist I am only now understanding that being a Zen Buddhist doesn't mean that you are always in a state of equanimity and equilibrium.  I am first and foremost a human being and I will, even as a Zen Buddhist, experience the full spectrum of emotions and thoughts.  All Buddhists do. Being a Zen Buddhist is not like being a Star Trek Vulcan who suppresses all emotions and uses logic in all situations. 

Enlightenment isn't living in a constant state of bliss and serenity, as I first assumed when I began studying and practicing Buddhism.  Rather, enlightenment means to be constantly mindful of what I am thinking, feeling, doing, and saying at all times.  It doesn't mean that I will always think, feel, do, or say the “right” or “positive” thing but it does mean I bring awareness to those four realms and return to what I know is “right” or “positive.”  Enlightenment is a constant reminder to be compassionate with myself and with others. 

That's when I ask myself: what can this moment, this dukkha teach me about myself and about life? That's when, in addition to being mindful, and living through this unease, and asking myself what I can learn from this anxiety, I also change my situation.  I do something to quell the discontent.  I call a friend or family member.  I spend some time with someone.   I connect with people. By doing this, I remind myself that I am not alone.  I reach out and connect with someone I knew.  Or I leave the house and get groceries.  I take a walk.  I get out of my head and get into the physical world. I remind myself that I have things I can do and I did them.  

Perhaps most importantly, I stop the story going on in my head.  In his book End Your Story, Begin Your Life: Wake Up, Let Go, Live Free Jim Dreaver states that “suffering is when you don't like what you're feeling or what is happening and that makes you unhappy.”  He goes on to say that “all forms of discontent and unhappiness are always the result of resisting what is.  Resistance is causes by holding onto  beliefs, judgments, and expectations and pictures about the way things are or should be.  It comes from fabricating in your mind some story about what is happening.”

So what do we do?  What do I do to quell this anxious quiver of being?  As Dreaver's story suggests, we end the stories about our past, present, and future that don't contribute positively or realistically to our lives right now as they are.  We wake up.  We live fully and mindfully in the present moment, in our lives as they are without the story.  We let go of our expectations of what our lives should have been in the past, should be in the present, and should be in the future.  As Jim Dreaver says, “We let go  of the thoughts that are the source of the resistance, the story, and simply be present with what is.”  Not always easy but that is our practice.  We approach it wholeheartedly, knowing that when we do, we will receive gifts of the dharma—joyful wisdom and ease of mind. 

Start again

The irony or perhaps the hypocrisy is that I haven't meditated in a long time. When I lived in Iowa City, I meditated every Thursday night at the Iowa City Zen Center from 6:30-8:00 pm and every Sunday at the Cedar Rapids Zen Center from 8:00-10:00 am. I led the meditation at both Zen Centers. Iowa City usually only had three other people. I walked there from my house. It was a nice respite in the middle of the week.  I remember that in the summer, I opened the windows because there was no air conditioning and the traffic from Burlington Street was loud. I either was annoyed by the noise or just accepted it and let it become a part of the moment.  Sundays I drove about twenty minutes to Cedar Rapids because Cedar Rapids Zen Center had a resident priest, Zuiko Redding, who gave a dharma talk after zazen, kinhin, and zazen. The drive in the morning was always pleasant, and one of the few reasons I left Iowa City during the week.

Now I live in Eagan, a suburb of the Twin Cities.  I've attended three different Zen Centers and for various lenghts--Minnesota Zen Center, right off Lake Calhoun in Uptown Minneapolis (three years on Saturday mornings); Dharma Fields Meditation Center in southwestern Minneapolis (three months on Sunday mornings); and Clouds in Water Zen Center in downtown St. Paul (three times).  I stopped attending because one of the most difficult things for me living in the metropolitan Twin Cities is all the driving I do in fast, three or four lane traffic.  Unlike the leisurely walk to the Iowa City Zen Center or the easy drive to Cedar Rapids Zen center, I have to drive through what I feel is concrete and congestion and confusion.  I tell myself I live here and if zazen and zen is important to me than I should just accept my reality, a reality which includes driving everywhere and driving in metropolitan traffic, but about four years ago I decided I no longer wanted to drive on a weekly basis to a meditation center, so I stopped attending a Zen Center.  I tried meditating at home, but this practice fell to the wayside. It is always easier to meditate with a group of people.

So I'm now thinking of attending Minnesota Zen Center on Saturday mornings again.  I miss zazen.  I miss going to a coffee shop after zazen and drinking green tea and reading about zen.  I hope to start this Saturday.

Beginner's Meditation:Sit and Sip

We're busy people. We both dislike this and crave this.  So meditating becomes something we desire and at the same time something that is difficult for us. We want to slow down and do nothing, perhaps feel a sense of serenity, and then when we try to meditate, we feel restless, we feel we should be doing something, we're intensely aware of how active our minds are with thoughts and perhaps this busy mind bothers us more than when we aren't meditating. 

So what do we do?  How do we meditate?  I suggest starting slow and simple.

One way to ease yourself into a more formal meditation practice is to try a drinking beverage meditation.  Find a time of the day where you won't need to give your attention to other people. Make a cup of tea or coffee.  If you're not a coffee or tea or hot beverage drinker, some other beverage will work just fine.  Then sit down and tell yourself that you are not going to get up and move or do anything else except sit there and slowly drink your beverage until it is gone.  Ideally, it will take you about ten to twenty minutes, so plan to set aside this amount of time.  If you want to set a timer, that is fine too.

During this time, you sit still on a chair and you sip your beverage.  You let your mind think. It will. You won't need any help with that. But every now and then, whenever you notice you are thinking, you tell yourself, "That was thought. Let it go."  You take a deep breath, and return to the present moment, and take a sip of your beverage.  You notice the quiet.  You notice the sounds you hear, the things you see.  Maybe you'll notice something you've wanted to clean or move, but you don't do it.  Maybe you make a list in your mind of the things you need to do.  Maybe you think about the past or your present. That's fine.  But as soon as you notice your mind wandering again, (and it will), you  remind yourself, "That is thought, let it go," take a deep breath, take a sip of your beverage and return to the present moment.  No matter what the thought, it is still thought, so just let it go.  Worrying about our future or hating our present may seem like thought we want to let go and so we do so willing, but planning for our day is also a thought and even though we may think it is a "good thought process" we still let it go.  No judgement of your thoughts either way: no good, no bad, just thought, just let it go when you remember, and don't get down on yourself when you don't.  Just sit and sip, sit and sip. 

If you want, you can count your breaths as you sit and sip.  Count each breath up to ten, and then start again.  It sounds easier than it really is because your mind will start thinking and you'll lose count. That's okay. When you notice you aren't counting any more and that you are thinking, just say, "That is thought, let it go," take a sip of your beverage, take a deep breath, and start counting again. 

Be gentle with yourself. You are not going to have a clear mind or blank mind or big mind or a calm mind or any of those idealized Zen minds we imagine in a day. It takes a long, long time, and even those practioners of meditation who meditate for years, still think while they are meditating.

Why the drink the beverage?  It gives you the sense that you are doing something rather than just sitting there and meditating, which as I mentioned, is often difficult for beginners.  Eventually, with a consistent practice, you can give up the tea, the sense that you need to do something.  Just sitting and meditating is doing something, just something that is in sharp constrast to our Westernized idea of doing something.   

See if you can find a consistent time to do this beginner's mediation once or twice a week so that it becomes a routine. View it as practicing something, and as is the case with everything through practice, you will become better and advance in your skill.  And meditation is a skill. It is something we do.

Appreciation, Acceptance, Awareness

Like you, I'm in my head a lot.  I think about my life.  I think about the past, the present, the future. 

With my past, I usually think about what I liked, what was going well, the elements that seem better than my current reality.  Perhaps I'm looking at it with rose colored glasses, a sense of nostalgia; perhaps I only choose to remember the good things. 

With the future, I hope.  I hope for things to be better than they are now, the things I don't like about my life  Perhaps this is a choice about my future I also make: to look at it with optimism.  When I don't, I know I see my future as more of the same, the stuff of life I don't like right now.  That pessimistic view of my future sinks me into a pit of disappointment, despair, and depression. I know that's not healthy for me so I resist. I hope. 

And the present?  I know from my study and practice of Zen that there is nothing but the present moment. The future may never arrive; the past has left.  What I have to work with is now, this moment, this hour, this day.  So I remind myself to accept, to appreciate, to be aware.  I remind myself to let go.  To be grateful for what I do have. I remind myself to return to optimism rather than pessimism. 

When I remember, and I need to remember far more often, I take a deep breath; I become aware of that breath.  I move myself out of my mind and into my body.  Breath awareness can do this in any situation without anyone knowing.  Meditation also, obviously.  This is the purpose of meditation: to calm our minds, to take us out of our minds momentarily, and into our bodies, into the present moment, no judgment.  Exercise also works.  A contrast to the stillness of meditation, the constant movement of our bodies can create a quiet mind, a mind concentrating on the exercise at hand.  Yoga is the midpoint between meditation and exercise.  One,two, or all three of these activities can help us calm our minds and return to present moment with a renewed sense of acceptance, appreciation, and awareness of our current reality.

Being in the present moment doesn't mean we can't plan for our future. In fact, we must.  It doesn't mean we won't think about our past.  It is our history; it informs us.  Being in the present moment simply means that this is the most tangible, the most real moment of them all because it is here and now, it is what we are experiencing.  It is not a memory; it is not a hope. It is reality.  
We need to calm our minds to be still and to be aware of the fact that we are here, we are alive, this is it, this is all we have.  Viewing it with anxiety, angst, or anger makes life as it is (past, present, and future) more difficult.  Viewing it with appreciation, acceptance, and awareness makes life as it is (past, present, and future) easier.  Choose the latter and that makes a huge difference.