Obey My Blog

It’s my last day at Tassajara and I’m washing 30 carrots. 30 big huge carrots! The scrub brush and the water have turned orange and all I can smell is their fresh, crunchy aroma. I honestly can’t think of a better way to spend the morning.

Okay, I can think of a few others, but this definitely ranks up there.

This trip to Tassajara was not a typical vacation. Yes, it was a break from my daily routine, but there was no escaping reality or life on this trip.

In fact, I was thrown right into it.

In a community like this you have very little privacy, there are rules for when you can talk and when you can’t talk and while you have some choice in the matter, the jobs you’re assigned are chosen for you.

There are good reasons for this (cultivating mindfulness being one of them), but when I first arrived, I didn’t understand and couldn’t comprehend why anyone would willingly take up this kind of life.

Be told when I can talk? Peesh! Be told what to do? Ha!

This is the exact opposite of how I’ve constructed my life so far. I’ve worked very hard to make sure I’m not dependent on anyone. I’ve made sure I know how to survive on my own without anyone’s help. When things got tough, I wanted to know that I could make it without having to trust anyone at all.

Put me in a community where this is completely turned upside down and…voila!

Major panic attack.

But I survived it. And by depending on other people, no less.

This is how I found myself delightfully washing carrots. My friend Vicki was kind enough to switch jobs with me on our last day, because she knew how much it meant to me to be in the kitchen for at least one shift.

How awesome is that?

Tassajara itself is a small place, tucked away in a valley in the Ventana wilderness. After the flight from Austin to San Jose, our group rented two vehicles and began the long trek in – about 3 to 3 1/2 hours. Or maybe it was longer, I can’t remember. Anyway, the mountains get increasingly taller and rockier the further you drive. Many of the trees that had been scorched by the fire here about 2 years ago were, sadly, still scarred black.

The mornings here begin early and I found myself waking up at 5:15, sometimes 5:00, in order to make it early to zazen in the meditation hall. Which is huge by the way. The clack of wood and the sound of bells and bowls became my early morning soundtrack from Monday to Friday. I listened to my ipod once the entire week – once!

Luckily, I managed to sneak away for one afternoon to practice Tai Chi. I only got to practice once during my stay, but in my Tai Chi class Sunday night, I noticed I felt much more focused and relaxed. I guess a week of meditation will do that!

I had very few expectations when I first started this trip. I really didn’t know what to expect, to be honest. For some reason, it never occurred to me that a trip like this would change me or challenge me even.

Isn’t it odd that the thought wouldn’t even cross my mind?

But what a nice surprise, to find that I could do things I didn’t think possible before. Like completely trust the people I was with, work in a kitchen, slow down enough to appreciate and notice even the tiniest gestures of kindness (of which there were many), tolerate nature (mosquitos, anyone?), share a bathroom with five women (!) and survive with only the light of the sun and a kerosene lantern.

It kind of makes me wonder, what else can I do that I didn’t think possible before?

You’ve met her. THAT girl. The one who is always smiling. Real sweet-like. The one who tries to keep everything together. To make everyone happy.

Then one day this sweet, smiling girl flips the fuck out when someone asks to simply borrow a pen.

Yep.

Been there. Done that.

I’ve been that girl.

To a certain extent I still am.

Being the good girl SUCKS. You don’t say what you really want to say. You say yes when you want to say no. You smile when you actually feel like punching someone in the face (well, I have actually punched someone in the face. Not that I’m advocating punching people!). And you end up exhausted, angry and confused.

During the Zen meditation (zazen) class I took last fall, my teacher asked everyone in the room if they wanted to be a good person. Most people, of course, raised their hand. Who doesn’t want to be a good person?

ME.

I most definitely DO NOT want to be a good person.

I know where that road goes. Every time I’ve attempted to be the good girl, I’ve gotten myself into trouble.

So then, what is the point of being a good person?

When I was in graduate school I took a conflict resolution class. Because, well, at the time I wanted to be a diplomat and I thought, rightly, that conflict resolution might come in handy.

I thought to myself – I’ll learn how to foster peace between warring nations, I’ll learn how to listen with thoughtfulness and care and then help enemies put aside their differences. Palms will meet. Hands will shake. Doves will be released…

What I learned instead was that conflict resolution is not about making peace just for the sake of making peace. Or because it is the “good” or “right” thing to do. It can be a hard and sometimes dirty business. Granted, it can be extremely rewarding and done in the right way it actually CAN foster peace between enemies. My former professor, Dr. Marc Gopin is an inspiring example of this.

But this does not happen by prancing into a war zone and gleefully dismissing all the hate, anger and violence that has occurred and almost assuredly still exists. It’s only by acknowledging it – and honoring the wounds created on both sides – that healing and peace can begin (That is if, as a peacemaker, you can avoid ending up bitter and jaded by the whole heart-wrenching process.).

But that’s the aftermath. Identifying (and identifying with) certain things as good or bad is what gets people into conflicts in the first place.

It is the same with individuals.

If you consider yourself a “good” person, then that means other people must be “bad.” Not you. Never.

In an effort to prop yourself up as “good,” you will attempt to call out and crucify others who you believe contain the very “bad” qualities you deny in yourself. You will create enemies, point fingers, blame others and get mad. If along the way, other people join you, you can all call yourselves good and others bad – solidified in self-righteousness and in your total denial of ever doing anything bad or wrong.

I’m exaggerating a little bit here, but this is how wars start. This is how conflict begins.

As a martial artist, it is prudent to recognize and learn to accept all aspects of yourself. By doing so, you learn how to defend yourself. You learn your weaknesses and your strengths. You learn when it is appropriate to act and when not to.

In essence, you learn how to become a whole person – not a “good” person.

Because being good and bad are never separate. They are just two sides of the same coin. Trying to deny your “bad” side is like trying to chop yourself in half. I should know. I’ve tried (well, not literally of course).

Which is why there really is no point in being a “good” person.

In reality, there really isn’t such a thing. And in reality, when you accept and embrace what you think is bad in yourself – all those things you criticize yourself for on a daily basis – a surprising and unthinkable thing happens.

You begin to accept these things in others. You stop trying to project your crap onto others. You stop seeing people as others and you start seeing them as human beings.

Suddenly, being a “good” person is no longer important. Just being a person is.

Alrightie. This is my last attempt to write for the Best of 2009 Blog Challenge. Heck yeah!

Today’s topic: Resolution you wish you’d stuck with.

Hmmm… I don’t really want to write about 2009. I don’t want to write about 2010 either. Because today, outside, it is absolutely gorgeous. I should be out there. Absorbing the beautiful Texas sunshine. Not in here, attempting to reflect and be all deep-like.

But okay, I’m gonna do it. I’m going to write you an article you can’t refuse. Or reuse.

I kept all of the resolutions I made way back when in January. Jealous? Eh, you shouldn’t be – they were very broad resolutions anyway. I wanted to be healthier physically, so I started slowly changing my diet. I stumbled my way through Qigong, found myself delightfully and unexpectedly in a Baguazhang class and then returned to my first true love, Chen Style Tai Chi.

I wanted to be healthier mentally, so I started doing Standing Meditation along with my martial arts practice. And then found my world completely turned upside down by one little book, Zen Wrapped in Karma Dipped in Chocolate (Damn you Brad Warner! Just kidding.).

Zen Buddhism. Holy crap.

I don’t think I’ll be making any resolutions for 2010. I was pleasantly surprised and humbled by 2009. Despite all the mistakes I made, the stupid things I said, the heartache and my sometimes awkward social moments (please don’t ever ask me about my master’s degree. I will get all kinds of awkward on you), I held steady with my desire to be a healthier person. Not the healthiest person, mind you – just healthier. Which, I think is much healthier. Heh.

Here’s to a healthy 2010.

A Brief Guide for Men on Love in the Dojo or Zendo
(or anywhere for that matter)

1. No matter how much you may want to get it on with a woman in your dojo or zendo or whatever, try to refrain from expressing this directly to the woman in question and then telling her that 7:00am is a good time for her to call you. She may do one of the following:

a. Punch you in the face.
b. Laugh at you.
c. Run away and write a blog article about it.

2. If you still wish to express your undying passion for a woman in your dojo or zendo, try talking to her like a human being. Women respond to kind words. Really. (Well, okay, usually.)

3. Should you be rejected by said woman, it is probably best not to react by sending her an angry email in retaliation and then asking her to please write you back. Just sayin’.

4. Most women are in a dojo or zendo or whatever to actually practice martial arts and/or meditation (weird, I know). They are not there to stroke your ego. Or anything else for that matter.

5. A woman has every right not to like you. Really. Remember, just because a particular woman is not attracted to you, does not mean you are not an awesome person. It doesn’t mean she’s not an awesome person. All it really means is that she’s just not that into you. That is life. Be a gentleman and understand this.

I like to give men the benefit of the doubt. I do, seriously. Because there are a lot of really awesome men out there. I am fortunate to know some of them.

I too have been rejected. Many times. I know how it feels. It really blows. Which is why nowadays, during the rare times someone actually expresses an interest in me and I don’t feel the same, I try to be as upfront and respectful as I can.

But…

I have been heckled, taunted, harassed, chased down, nearly run off the road, called names, objectified, verbally and psychologically abused by numerous men during my very short time on this Earth so far. Ummm…It’s kind of getting old.

Not that I’m some awesome catch or anything (well, I am awesome, but that’s beside the point – it’s never really about me anyway). It’s not about that. It’s about respect.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

Respect the women in (and out of) your dojo or zendo. You don’t know what they’ve been through. Respect the men too – you don’t know what they’ve been through. By honoring both sexes, you also honor yourself. By honoring yourself and not acting like a douchebag, you make the world a much better place.

Another day, another Best of 2009 Blog Challenge article. Yippee!

Today’s topic: Word or phrase. A word that encapsulates your year... For me this would be feeling. Yeah, that’s right. I said it – FEELING. I’m talking about feelings, man.

…

“Congratulations.”

“On what?” I reply, with astonishment.

“On feeling!”

I’ve just explained to my Zen teacher (who is not officially my Zen teacher since I haven’t taken any Precepts, but for all intents and purposes, is my Zen teacher) that I feel more emotional than ever since starting Zazen and I don’t know how to deal with that.

He doesn’t see this as a problem.

But I do.

I also confess my irrational fear of the bell at the end of meditation and how embarrassed I am by this.

I wait in anticipation for his reply. I’m not really sure what to expect from him, but I do not expect this:

“So?”

So?! But I’m not supposed to be scared of a stupid little bell! It’s not Zen to be scared.

Or is it?

I find it amusing that I got into Tai Chi and Zazen thinking they would help me deal with emotions that I saw as problematic. And that I believed these emotions were something to be dealt with. When I had dealt with these emotions properly, I thought, things would be peachy.

Umm, no.

Not exactly.

While Tai Chi and Zazen have helped carry me through the ups and downs of my emotions, they have not eliminated them. In fact, I am faced with more emotions than ever.

But why in the world did I ever think this was a bad thing?

When I first began reading about and practicing Zen, I’ll admit that I kind of had this ridiculous notion that being Zen meant being emotionless or at the very least, completely in control of one’s emotions at all times. This was initially appealing to me because I consider myself a rather emotional person (although a friend of mine recently referred to me as “laid back and cheeky-smiled” and nothing remotely resembling the “spastic stresspile” I sometimes claim to be… huh!).

But to practice Tai Chi and Zazen is not to become some emotionless zombie, impervious to pain and pleasure. Very few people can do that. And honestly, who would want to?  As Grace Schireson points out in Zen Women (I should probably not recommend books I haven’t finished yet, but I am so excited to have this in my hot little hands that I am going to tell you to go get it right now!),

“Zen practice means finding the mind of meditation in times of fear, anger, and desire, rather than trying to banish fear, anger, and desire from our consciousness.”

This is not easy. But something about returning to that cushion every day and going through my Tai Chi routine every morning brings me back around and returns me to my center.

I still kind of  fear the bell at the end of meditation and every once in a while, it still makes me jump. But now I almost welcome it. Now it is not a problem. I feel (almost) everything. And in a strange sense, it is a relief.

A few weeks ago I moved into a new place. It was stressful! I experience a lot of anxiety when moving, despite the fact that I’ve moved a lot in my adult life. Weird. But anyway, I was feeling stressed and wanted to partake of a frosty beverage and a cigarette (my sister talked me into it – it’s all her fault!).

I couldn’t even finish it. I got halfway through and had to put it out. I used to smoke all the time when I was younger and now I can’t even finish one lousy ‘ol ciggy. I’m not sure if this is because I am getting older or healthier. Hmmmm…

But it got me thinking about my breath. I spend a lot of time focusing on my breath these days. It’s what I focus on when doing Zazen and it helps guide me as I practice Tai Chi.

Just this morning, as I grew increasingly frustrated over a move I haven’t been able to get down, I remembered my breath. The whole room suddenly got quiet and I was able to do the move flawlessly. Okay, not really, but I did it without being frustrated. Which is a plus for me! I kind of got excited and jumped up in the air a little.

How is it that we pay so little attention to such an important thing? It’s not even a thing really – it just is. You breathe. Period. Otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this right now.

Then again, what’s the big deal? Is it really necessary to be aware of something that is just a natural part of life?

In Tai Chi we do breathing exercises where we stand with our palms facing our abdomens and exaggerate pushing and pulling our hands with the movement of our bellies (It’s a bit unnerving to look over and see my belly fully extended, but I don’t get any points for looks in class. So there.). This is meant to strengthen and cultivate awareness in the abdomen or dantian.

But it’s also meant to cultivate an awareness of the breath.

If you think about it, breath is pure action, without thought (wait, then maybe you shouldn’t think about it). When you breathe, you are automatically connecting the mind and body.

Sometimes, as Jan Diepersloot points out in Warriors of Stillness, students are told not to worry about the breath. They are told simply to focus on the movements and the breath will follow. But many students – myself included – find it useful to use the breath as a way to integrate the body and mind and the upper and lower torso. What one can discover later, Diepersloot explains, is that it is possible to just use “yi, awareness or intention, directly to achieve integration.”  This method, colorfully coined as, “suck and tuck,” amounts to “tucking the pelvis under, forward and up and sucking the abdomen in.”

Many beginning students are so stiff and frozen, though, that attempting to use yi, or awareness, can simply result in more tension. Thus, Diepersloot finds it more beneficial to emphasize the conscious use of the breath before introducing the more direct method.

Personally, I’m still not quite ready for such a direct approach. And honestly, I kind of enjoy focusing on my breath (is that weird?). But the more natural my breathing becomes in my practice, the more relaxed I become.  And the more relaxed I become, the easier it is for me to just be aware.

But I still have a long way to go…

This time last year I was a mess. Okay. Not completely. But I was seriously stressed out.

I look back and I realize how incredibly hard I was on myself. I also look back and realize that I had no earthly idea what I was getting myself into as far as Tai Chi and Zen were concerned. No clue!

Well, sort of…but not really.

I was trying so hard. I really was. Getting into Tai Chi and Qigong and then Zen was supposed to help me. They were supposed to help me become the person I wanted to be – stable. Or at least just not insane.

And they have definitely helped me accomplish this. But what I didn’t realize at the time was that I wasn’t insane. I was actually stable (sort of). And I was actually okay. But I thought I was supposed to be something I wasn’t. I thought I was supposed to be someone else. I thought I was supposed to be this ideal I kept in my head – this perfect, unattainable ideal comprised of god-only-knows what.

How wrong was I! Well, as it turns out…very!

And so I set out for ways to reach this. And I ended up -

Right. Back. Where. I. Started.

Apparently I’m just supposed to be me. Nothing else. Nothing more.

Really??!

I try not to write too much about zazen here, because that’s not what most of you come here for. You come here to read about Tai Chi (I think). But I learn so much from zazen and I have found it helpful to bring what I learn into my Tai Chi practice and vice versa.

Many times I have stood in Standing Meditation and been overwhelmed with an emotion I had been trying (in vain) to suppress. Many times I have come home from a Saturday morning at the Zen Center utterly exhausted and in tears.

These activities are not to be taken lightly. And yet they are some of the gentlest ways to get back into your body – to become aware of the things you’ve kept buried in the muscles of your back, shoulders, neck and head. Move these things around a bit and you start noticing things come up. Sit or stand in meditation with nothing else but you and your never ending thoughts and see what you find. It is amazing, horrifying, humorous, delightful, scary, pleasant, gorgeous and sad.

This article was supposed to be about the breath. Uh…whoops! I do still want to talk about breath and Tai Chi. Next week then. I’ve been thumbing through Warriors of Stillness by Jan Diepersloot and it is quite interesting…

This year I became a pescetarian.

I know, a what?

I usually just tell people I’m a vegetarian since pescetarian sounds kind of pretentious (and fishetarian just sounds gross). Which is silly really. I usually end up having to explain it anyway. Regular folks  just look at me in bewilderment and vegans nibble on their quinoa and silently judge me.

I don’t feel it’s necessary to identify with my diet though. I’m not interested in wrapping my whole identity around being a crunchy granola person. Really, all I’m trying to do is be conscious of what I eat and conscious and appreciative of where that food comes from.

Just as I try to maintain awareness of my body while doing Tai Chi, I try to be aware of what I put into it. It’s all about balance and that differs a little for everyone.

There are all kinds of diets out there – the Yin and Yang diet or macrobiotic diet being the most talked about among martial artists it seems. But are these really necessary? Do they make a difference?

According to the macrobiotic diet (or the Yin and Yang diet),

“…people living near the freezing North Pole (Yin) eat mostly animal foods (Yang) to stay warm and ‘contracted’. If someone is living in a hot (Yang) climate and they eat a lot of animal protein (Yang) they might find themselves too ‘contracted’ and uptight (Yang).”

Which kind of makes sense when you think about the very obvious relationship between you, your food and your environment, but I have to agree with William C. Phillips over at Patience Tai Chi, when he suggests that it’s probably best not to be too dogmatic about diet, since everyone’s needs are different.

Personally, I find that simply eating more natural food makes me feel better in general (they make me feel like a natural woman, hahaha).

And it also seems pretty obvious to me that I wouldn’t last very long in my Tai Chi class if I gorged on pizza and sweets every day (mmm…pizza).

It’s not just that though. I care about where my food comes from. Your food becomes you – literally. So to me, it’s worth giving some thought to… Not only has Tai Chi made me aware of my own body, but it has made me more aware of what’s going on around me. The food on my plate and the fact that it was once alive (unless you’re eating canned cheese) would be one of those things.

So, I try to be conscious of the foods that I eat. Whether they are yin or yang, I don’t know. But I do know that certain foods make me feel more balanced and healthy, not to mention, by being aware of the food in front of me I actually enjoy eating it that much more. And that to me is enough.

Never let your persistence and passion turn into stubbornness and ignorance.
Anthony J. D’Angelo

…

I have finally emerged from a work and web design cocoon. In the past few weeks I’ve had to choose between writing and sleeping. Considering this is my first post in two weeks or so, I guess it goes without saying that sleep won…

This is what happens when you try to work 50 hours a week, take a Tai Chi class, take a Zazen class, practice both Tai Chi and zazen on a regular basis, try to have a social life and participate in a web design competition.

Actually, I don’t think I had a choice … sleep chose me!

Anyway, I have been doing a little reflecting on my Tai Chi practice and I realize that I’ve been doing everything all wrong! This doesn’t surprise me, but I am amazed at how being stubborn and remaining loyal to my first Tai Chi teacher has kept me from moving forward. When I first learned Tai Chi, I just didn’t pay attention to the subtle things like oh, I don’t know, posture, leg strength and the fact that the force was coming from my arms and not my center.

Kind of important stuff!

The more I practice though the more I realize that there is a method to this stubborn madness of mine. I cling to my old ways of doing Tai Chi because it is safe – because it is familiar. Even though it’s all wrong! But it is so much harder to let that go and accept new ways of doing things. Even if these new ways are better for me.

Oddly enough, I developed this stubbornness as a way to protect myself. And that’s okay – there’s nothing wrong with that. But this stubbornness has turned into a hindrance and has actually made my ability to learn much more difficult.

This is not to say that my first Tai Chi teacher didn’t know what he was doing. He was actually quite good. But without really knowing what I was doing, I attempted to copy him. Which is perfectly normal for a beginner, but I see the limitations of this now.

And it’s not something that I developed because of Tai Chi or anything like that. I actually brought this with me when I first started practicing. Seeing this now in my Tai Chi class has made me more aware of other aspects of my life where I’ve been too stubborn to move forward or just accept something the way it is (funny how that happens…).

This makes me wonder – what else have I been missing? What other subtleties have I completely overlooked simply because I’ve been too stubborn to notice?

I hear a lot of talk about how it’s okay for Tai Chi to be slow, but not too slow. If you’re going too slow, then apparently you’re not doing it right and blah, blah, blah.

I have a bone to pick with this concept. Because over the past couple of weeks, I have become painfully aware of the fact that I really need to slow down.

Since my Tai Chi class started I’ve experienced impatience, frustration and tension. All signs that I’m lost in my thoughts and trying to rush something that shouldn’t be rushed. And I’m only two weeks in!

I have zazen partially to blame for this…I mean uh, thank. I am now more aware of how absolutely messy my head is than ever (I literally daydream all the time. All the time!! I’m not kidding, it’s absurd.).

This has become blatantly clear to me, since lately, the bell that ends meditation scares the living bejesus out of me. Now every time I sit I psych myself out thinking about it. I think – this time, I’ll be ready for you, you bell. You won’t get me this time! And then of course, the bell is struck and I am startled. Stupid bell!

I asked a recent guest speaker at the Zen Center about this. She laughed and said, yes, you are lost in your thoughts. She empathized with my embarrassment, which was reassuring, but then she just stopped talking and gave me the strangest look.

I can’t adequately explain that look. It kind of made me want to tear off my skin and run out of the room screaming. Okay, it wasn’t quite that dramatic, but close! It was one of the kindest and most unconditional looks I’ve ever received. And it was absolutely terrifying (yes, terrifying).

But after meeting her (and recovering from meeting her) I realized that the key to her kind and terrifying gaze was her immense sense of being grounded and fully present.

You don’t get this way by hurrying through life or by sheer force of will. It comes from slowing down and paying attention.

There is a time in one’s practice when Tai Chi can become faster and is actually more appropriate, obviously. But being that I’m still learning (or re-learning rather) I don’t want to just swing my arms around like an idiot without paying attention to what I’m doing…

I want to swing my arms around like an idiot with complete attention!