I’m feeling much better, thanks. I love it that I have a way to take care of myself that doesn’t involve taking drugs.
I wanted to say a few words about karma, because it is a concept that comes up in Buddhism that is misunderstood by almost everybody. The word “karma” only means action or doing. There’s no connotation of cause and effect or cosmic retribution involved. It exacts no judgment on the choices we make. My being raped was my karma, as it was his to be the rapist, and my father’s to be an asshole about it. There’s no karmic responsibility or punishment, no great bureaucracy of karma meting out rewards for good behavior, in this life or the next. Karma isn’t something to believe in; it’s just a descriptive word for action. Keep reading »
Lately I’ve been plagued by a repeating image. More than an image, it’s a whole-body sense thing. It’s a man hitting me with a stick.
It’s actually been with me for years, it just took me this long to realize it. Doing zazen, as I’ve said, means all kinds of day-to-day junk precipitates out (thank you, high school chemistry) and lets me see clearly what I’m really thinking. It was during zazen that I really started to see this little film clip, and afterwards I realized that it’s popping up quite often lately. It plays many times a day. Keep reading »
We all fear death. Most people don’t even allow themselves to think about it, it’s so awful, even though it’s the one thing we are all guaranteed (even taxes are optional, after all). It’s this huge, dark, unknown thing, toward which we begin hurtling as soon as we’re born. Some people strongly believe that there’s an afterlife, heaven or another lifetime, or just floating around in cosmic bliss, but it seems to me that this is simply a way to stave off the great fear. Nobody knows what’s going to happen, not really. Not, anyway, to my satisfaction. It’s occurred to me that even science will probably never be able to tell us what lies on the other side of that wall.
Some people think we should be using science and medicine to prolong our lives for thousands of years, even make us immortal. That hunger for more experience, more books, more food, is what the mind does, and when you’ve been taught your whole life that that craving, a big part of the sensation of being alive, is your real self, of course you’re terrified of letting it go. Especially when no one can really promise you that anything better will happen at the end than that you will simply go out like a candle.
One of my earliest memories, one of my only memories of my mother, and the sweetest memory I have:
I am four years old. My mother and my aunt are in the kitchen, talking grownup talk. I am playing with my younger cousin, John, who is still in diapers. He is throwing a ball down the basement stairs, and I am running down and fetching it, like a dog, over and over.
It’s fun. I’m out of breath. Our basement is scary, but safe because the stairs lead off of the kitchen, where my mother and my aunt are talking, and I can hear their voices. I’m thumping all the way down, thumping all the way back up. The carpet on the stairs is thin, like felt, over the wooden steps. We all had bruises on our shins, all the time we lived in that house, from those stairs.
And they’re slippery. My cousin laughs and throws the ball. I run after it, and halfway down I slip and fall, and bump my head.
Is there any such thing, in a blog? I suppose it depends on what kind of blog we’re talking about.
I’m still trying to figure out what kind of blog I want this to be. I’ve just spent the better part of the past week reading a friend’s blog, completely unable to stop reading the next entry, and the next entry, and the next… She’s having a very interesting life, is brutally honest, and knows how to tell a story – the best combination in the world. And I got to thinking, I need to tell more of those kinds of stories here. Keep reading »
This makes me feel hopeful. What a cool thing to do.
If you haven’t seen the white guy doing his goofy dance all over the world, often accompanied by others – from Australians to Huli Wigmen, Rwandan children, or Bollywood dancers – do yourself a favor and check it out. It’s less than 5 minutes.
Every morning I turn on New York One, the NYC news channel, just to make sure the world is still there. I get online and check Facebook, my favorite blogs, icanhascheezburger.com and the major news headlines. So I heard about the outbreak of swine flu in Mexico early last week, and I felt a little tickle in my throat.
The next day I heard there were a few cases in Texas and California. Slight headache.
And on Friday, I turned on the tv to learn that a bunch of high school students in Queens – some of whom had just been to Mexico – had all gone home with the flu. Like, 75 of them.
Like I'm really gonna get out of here alive. (But what if I do?)
Living in New York definitely brings home the idea of the impending apocalypse. Any subway at rush hour reminds me that disaster is just one panic away. We handle ourselves well here when disaster happens, and I’m glad to be in the city, but obviously 8 million people can’t just carry on as usual if there’s no electricity, or an epidemic, or a “dirty” bomb, or catastrophic economic collapse. I probably won’t survive such an eventuality, but in case I do, I want to be ready. I have extra water stored, and some stockpiled food. And I have a “go” bag.
There are lots of guides out there on how to do zazen. I check out a few every once in a while, looking for tips or just to remind myself of all the different elements, and remind myself that I’m not an expert. This one isn’t bad, and has clear photos, but it’s best if you have someone in person to show you the basics. A person could write a book on how to do zazen, but it’s really not complicated.
I’ve had plantar fasciitis for almost a year now, a painful inflammation of the sole of the foot, plus a heel spur that has me limping and screws up my ankle and knee joints. I can’t walk everywhere, like I used to, can’t get any kind of exercise that involves putting weight on my feet. It’s been hard. I’ve gained weight, and lost some ground with my fitness level.
I’m starting a new program this week to try and get back in shape. I want to do yoga, pilates, or some other kind of exercise every day. I’m also doing a raw food cleanse.
I’ve done some yoga or pilates in recent weeks, but going for more than a few days without keeping it up now means that I lose almost everything I’d gained, so it feels like I’m starting over. I guess this is part of what happens when you hit 40. It’s going to take some time to get back to where I was. I don’t know that I’ll be able to improve past that, but I’m going to try.
In pain and feeling crappy, I’ve started with some easy yoga routines. I’ve never been a super-athlete, but I’ve been better than this. It kills me to struggle with a simple forward bend, when I used to be able to stand on my head.
But I remind myself: the point of yoga is to deal with my body where it is in that moment. The point is not to get somewhere; the point is to be where I am. That’s where I start. That’s where I have to start. If I try to start where I want to end up, I will hurt myself or get frustrated, and simply fail.
The trick is, while knowing that there’s a goal I’m working towards, to forget that and focus on what I’m doing right now. Ease into that forward bend, to the place I can reach today. Feel the sensation and breathe. Come back to the mat tomorrow.
This is true for everything I’ve ever wanted to accomplish.
I’m feeling much better, thanks. I love it that I have a way to take care of myself that doesn’t involve taking drugs.
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