tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81266487152141492602024-03-13T21:36:14.197-04:00blissed bitch blogIrreverent ranting, raving and reflections from a fellow traveler exploring the landscape of Buddhist meditation practice and living the Dharma in NYC.bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-22364132430957707142012-06-08T00:57:00.001-04:002012-06-09T11:09:10.302-04:00Retreat Notes: Where to Begin...I've been silent.<br />
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Two months ago I returned from a three month silent meditation retreat. I tweeted a bit about it but I needed some time to integrate my experience before I began to write about it. <br />
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"How was it?" is the first thing everyone asks. The retreat was everything I expected it would be and surprisingly more. I highly recommend it! There are a few adjectives which you would expect to hear… profound, illuminating, challenging, insightful, etc. What about crazy, comfortable, uncomfortable, boring, fun, weird, typical, difficult, disappointing, encouraging, depressing, inspiring? Yup. All those apply too and others that come to me when I reflect on what I experienced during 3 months of one on one with my own mind.<br />
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I kept a journal. It started off with typical reflections on mediation experiences then slowly degraded into outright complaining and gossip. The range of journal entries reflected the range of what my mind projected onto my surroundings: bliss, misery, crazy, annoying, sweet, sour, cold, hot, resentment, jealousy, joy, love, appreciation. <br />
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Retreat is like athletic training camp for the mind. Your teachers are your coaches, your fellow retreaters are your teammates, your cushion is your equipment, and your mind is your playing field. You have personal goals but can't quite escape a sense of competition. Group retreat is like gym or yoga class, the camaraderie promotes a collective discipline to show up each time on time and sit quietly still. <br />
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Silence was the easy part. Sitting was challenging but I conquered it. Concentrating was impossible and I finally gave up. Dorm snorers and sharing a tiny bathroom with 12 women was hell. Next time, my own room or solitary retreat! Yet, I would miss the bonding with dorm mates if I was isolated in my own room and I wonder if I would be as disciplined in solitary. No matter, I can count on the guru to present whatever it is I need to learn. <br />
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How did I do? I was a complete failure! At least that's how I felt for a good chunk of the retreat. I was perpetually judging my retreat mates, my dorm mates, the food, the weather, the bathroom smell, my lack of concentration, the noises people made in the meditation room, and so on and so forth. We were supposed to regard each other and the environment as completely pure, as ideal conditions and inspiring companions, but I couldn't seem to shed my spoiled rude New Yorker! <br />
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Yet, somehow, this spoiled rude New Yorker came away with a deep understanding of concentration and my mind's habits, and discovered a deep faith and guru devotion. So, not too bad!<br />
<br />
Last December I had quit my amazing high paid job and moved
out of my amazing Upper West Side apartment. I had lost my mind to find
my heart. <br />
<br />
Instead of trying to capture the essence of my experience which would likely come off as cheesy and contrived, I will focus on the hot topics that I've commonly shared with friends and sangha. Hopefully, some of the profound will ooze out along with the gossip and complaining!<br />
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Stay tuned for my series of "Retreat Notes" posts.bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-91765497411964281612012-01-03T17:13:00.012-05:002012-01-03T18:15:28.389-05:00A Decision to RetreatLast luxuriously long shower with no one waiting at the door for me to hurry up...not for three months.<br /><br />Tomorrow I get on a train to a remote retreat center in a cold, wet part of the UK for three months of silence and sitting. I'm a spoiled city girl, so this roomy hotel shower will be something I look forward to in early April when I will be heading back home. Or, perhaps, I'll forget all about such worldly things and look forward to knowing my mind more intimately. Probably a bit of both!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1wg1DNHbNU">So, how did I get here?</a><br /><br />Sorry about that but that song has always been a warning to me. I've always told myself that I don't want to be like that, wake up each morning "same as it ever was."<br /><br />I've been working a great job for the past 9 years and have a great life in NYC: the job, the apartment, friends, money, and my health. I'm not supposed to want change now. You can blame it on ole reliable: mid-life crisis. Though, I wasn't in any crisis when I took a leap to go to art school over a decade ago. Since the gallery shows have faded, do I simply want to climb another mountain just because it's there?<br /><br />This past summer, a dear friend and her husband took the leap to move out west and start their holistic business with a bang. Their bravery reignited my secret longing to quick my job, go on retreat and move out west closer to my family. I confessed my secret to her over lunch one hot August day and she said to look for signs and omens. Thirty minutes later there was an earthquake in New York City! My friend looked at me and screamed "Oh my god, your quitting your job, going on retreat and moving to Arizona!" I replied, "Oh shit."<br /><br />If I had been in California, we would have just laughed it off, but a building shaking quake in the big apple is nothing to sneeze about. Was that my sign?<br /><br />A week later, a young man in our office was killed when he was hit by a car while riding his bike. A week after that, a close friend suddenly passed away from a stroke. She had just sent me a necklace she picked up while vacationing in Arizona because I had told her I was thinking about moving out there.<br /><br />Meditation: I may die today.<br /><br />My friend told me to make up my mind before the place burned down. Then I had a dream of the building burning down. OK OK OK, I get it. I quit my great paying job, moved out of my rent stabilized central park west apartment, and am now on the eve of entering a three month silent meditation retreat.<br /><br />That's how I got here. The surface of it, anyhow.<br /><br />My meditation practice has grown over the past seven years and as I have attended more retreats, I began to feel, dare I say, a calling to go on a longer and silent retreat. One month didn't seem long enough and a year seemed out of the question. Three months seemed just right.<br /><br />Some say I'm not ready, some say they envy me, some say I'm brave, some say I'm crazy, some say they rejoice, and some ask why. Why? Because. An artist creates because they have to. I feel a similar inexplicable necessity. I'm excited and nervous at the same time.<br /><br />Everyone seems to think I will be transformed. I have no such expectations or desires. Thanks to meditation, I finally like who I am. The only thing I anticipate from the retreat is the experience of it, whatever that may be. Perhaps I'll be the same, just more of the "same as it ever was."<br /><br />'till April...<br /><3blissed bitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00870561576211948350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-30571138303104210822011-10-04T21:18:00.000-04:002011-10-04T21:18:39.994-04:00Dharma Dreams: Bleeding HeartsA tall handsome man offered me use of the lower level of his home for my art studio. The space was pristine, high ceilings, clean, white, gigantic! It was more like a museum than a house! He said that I could use it for my art or for anything I wanted.<br />
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Just one hitch: I could never leave.<br />
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The temptation was obvious but I knew it was a trap. I would have all the time and space for my art making that I could ever dream of but I would be a prisoner there.<br />
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Not a good deal. <br />
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I decided to be free instead but he was already insisting that I couldn't leave.<br />
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We stood in front of a very tall wall covered with images of a heart being squeezed by a hand, the fingernails were puncturing the heart causing it to bleed. I told him confidently that I was going to leave. Again, he insisted that I couldn't leave. I said, "Yes, I can, watch." I proceeded to jump over the wall of bleeding hearts with ease. Somehow I knew I could do it, there was no doubt in my mind. When I was on the other side I said, "See!" He said, "I don't believe it, you didn't, you can't." I said, "I'll show you again." I came back over the wall and easily jumped over it again.<br />
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I felt so liberated and joyful, I was free! I wanted to tell everyone how to do it, how to jump over the impossibly high wall of bleeding hearts!<br />
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But no one was around. Alone in an abandoned downtown sort of location with graffiti and trash everywhere, I thought to myself, where is everyone? Was I the last one to escape?<br />
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Then I woke up.bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-84708337753088729142011-09-25T20:22:00.000-04:002011-09-25T20:22:23.053-04:00The Divine's Response to Artist's BlockI've been negligent in my writing duties as of late. I haven't produced anything in the studio for a couple of years. My artist is alive in meditation but absent in the conventional world of form. Although I admire the works of others very much, my own self discouragement feels like it is set in concrete.<br />
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As I contemplated a photograph of a beautiful tree at the edge of the sea, I asked the Divine (mother nature, God, Buddha, etc.) "what do you want to tell me?"<br />
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She answered the following...<br />
<br />
"I want to tell you...<br />
I love you<br />
This is my creation for you...<br />
Blue is my blood<br />
the coolness of shade is my embrace<br />
the light is mind illuminating intention<br />
the lines are my veins.<br />
You live in my painting.<br />
I welcome any creation from you.<br />
You exist to be with me<br />
together in our creations."<br />
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I guess I better get to work!bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-58031977578187660852011-03-15T16:40:00.003-04:002011-03-15T16:44:25.089-04:00A Bodhisattva HeartbeatA close friend shared with me her Bodhisattva moment. That's not what she called it, she's not a Buddhist, but I'll refer to it as such for context.<br />
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She was in meditation and experienced a profound personal moment when the suffering of others touched her soul. She is now more motivated than ever to help others through her vocations.<br />
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According to the American Heritage Dictionary: a Bodhisattva is an enlightened being who, out of compassion, forgoes nirvana in order to save others.<br />
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This term, Bodhisattva, is sometimes used as an adjective to describe our compassionate nature.<br />
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Our culture has a difficult time encouraging our compassionate nature. Some would say it does the opposite, that it promotes unadulterated self-cherishing! I suppose that is where a personal spiritual paths comes in: church, meditation, temple, mosque, humanitarian vocation, self-improvement, simply being nice, etc.<br />
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With so much suffering in the world, being open to realizing our compassionate nature is a profound and special blessing. That nature is what motivates us on this crazy path. Our talents and ambitions are ways to channel that compassionate nature. It may feel distant at times but we have that moment to reference when we feel lost and overwhelmed.<br />
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I go back to my Bodhisattva moment often. <br />
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Over time, that heartfelt moment, no matter how profound and life-changing, may get buried under life stuff but it's always there and we should create ways to rediscovered it in times of discouragement and disillusionment. We may even be tempted to dismiss it a fluke, irrelevant, silly, naive, or impractical.<br />
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Worse, many have no context for what they experienced and may never have told a soul about it thinking they were losing their mind. Well, they WERE losing their mind, their self-cherishing mind!<br />
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Mother nature created seasons. Our spiritual path experiences seasons too, seasons of bliss, doubt, disillusionment, inspiration, etc. We can learn to adapt to these seasons like changing our wardrobe to fit the weather. Our Bodhisattva moment may be another blessed tool in our spiritual tool box or it may be the ground on which our path began.<br />
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How can we re-inspire our Bodhisattva?<br />
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Attempting to recreate that moment with an expectation of bliss is sure come up short. (The first time is always special!) Revisiting the source of the inspiration may help or it may simply pronounce the gulf of separation we feel from that moment. Revisiting our own creations born from that moment of bliss, such as a poem, journal writing, or painting, could feel like another person must have created that!<br />
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We tend to grasp as results, we want conventional validation and success, whether that is with our efforts to help people or with our own progress on the spiritual path. We think we must be doing something wrong if we can't generate the bliss in meditation or that we didn't handle that crisis as best as we thought we should. The disappointment and discouragement begins to feed on itself.<br />
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Is this where faith come in?<br />
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I don't particularly like that word, faith. Perseverance has more of a warrior ring to it. Yeah, perseverance!<br />
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If helping people was easy and profitable, we would surely be in the Pure Land!<br />
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In our darkest moments, sometimes, we can start with simple appreciation of our Bodhisattva nature because having recognized that compassionate nature is a profound result in itself. We know that hiding in self-cherishing will only perpetuate suffering, so we continue on, we must persevere.<br />
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Ok, sometimes it feels like I'm limping on!<br />
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Namaste!blissed bitchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00870561576211948350noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-65732926213407412912011-01-17T12:51:00.000-05:002011-01-17T12:51:06.766-05:00Dharma Dreams: A Pure LandI had somewhere to go. I crossed the street, walked through the parking lot and into the park. <br />
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It was the most beautiful park I had ever seen. The trees glistened like in those old master Dutch paintings. There was a sense a profound peace that permeated everything I saw, the air and myself. It smothered the tiny insecurity in me that said I wasn't supposed to be there. <br />
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A large group of people stood alongside the field of grass. Every kind of person you could imagine, young, old, thin, fat, royal dress, tattered shards, black, white, purple. Ok, no purple but you get the idea.<br />
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A tall person welcomed me and they all turned to look at me. I think I interrupted something but I was too overwhelmed by the profound peace that I figured it was okay, it had to be okay. Any sense of self consciousness, such as embarrassment, seemed utterly useless and inconsequential in that place.<br />
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That place "out beyond right and wrong" (Rumi). <br />
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All the people moved (more like floated) to the other side of the field. I wasn't supposed to be there but I couldn't move. <br />
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In the distance, I saw three small white horses with long flowing hair. I recognized them as the Father, Christ and Holy Spirit. Yes, I <i>recognized</i> them. I can't tell you how I recognized them as the divine Christian trinity, I just did. Though this dream was pre-Dharma days, I'm not sure what other divinity I would ascribe to the beings I recognized. In that place, labels did not seem all that important. What was important was their importance. <br />
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I felt a reverence but not one of awe, more of as-a-matter-of-fact, like it was normal to see them there. I wanted to be respectful but I didn't know what to do. I hoped that they would approach and they did. They did that kind of float thing across the field in unison. I knew their appearance was not intrinsic to their nature, they did not have a density of being but simply appeared in a manner as to be recognized.<br />
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The three of them approached so close I could reach out and touch them but I dared not. I wanted to engage, to speak, to ask a question but I dared not. I was not afraid but simply at a loss for what to do. I only wondered if their flowing hair was as soft as it appeared. <br />
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I know. I totally blew it. In the presence of the divinity, I turn deer-in-headlights, "ooh, how pretty!" Knock me upside the head next time you see me, please!<br />
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Anyhow, just as Christ's hair barely brushed my hand, beyond soft is the only way to describe it, I heard my washing machine buzzer go off. I immediately turned and joyfully ran off to finish my laundry knowing that place would always be there and I could return whenever I wanted!<br />
<br />
Then I woke up. <br />
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Use a big sledge hammer.bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-22213975237920019212010-12-31T13:56:00.000-05:002011-01-08T23:10:38.618-05:00I resolve to make no resolutionsI'm tired of self improvement. Always trying to be more and better. No new improved me this year. This is where I am: I'm fine they way I am. <br />
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Every new direction or insight always meets with someone ready to burst my bubble. Every philosophy, every religion, every theory, every practice, every hunch, has it's naysayers. "That is not the right way." "Our way is better." "You are not doing it right." "Only we can give you the correct path." "Have faith." "Don't have faith." "Search." "Don't Search." "Pray." "Don't pray." "Sit." "Don't sit." "Sing." "Don't sing." "Do this." "Don't do this." "Do that." "Don't do that." <br />
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I'm sick of it.<br />
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I don't know why I am here but I know how I got here. Finally, that has to be enough. <br />
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No one has THE answer. Perhaps, there is no answer. Either way, I'm going to stop looking for it. I'm trying to accept what is. That is not easy. What is appears to be imperfect. I'm told it is perfect. I briefly saw it as perfect too but that moment has passed and faded. That moment may have been a decoy, a trick, a ruse, a diversion...a haha not aha moment, who knows?<br />
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That's right, who knows? Some men who lived thousands of years ago and didn't write it down? And now, thousands of story tellers, agendas and translations later we think we know what they meant if they even existed in the first place? On top of that, we bicker and fight and kill each over it? I ask again, who knows? <br />
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I hang on to some bit of faith (right or wrong) that things are they way they are meant to be. I don't like that but anything else is just beating my head against the wall and I have a headache. <br />
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So, I'm a meaningful and purposeful spec of sand on a massive beach that someone is walking on. Ok, so what. I don't care who is walking on me, where the beach is or how many other specs of sand there are. I feel the others specs of sand around me pushing and shoving and the rolls of waves bashing us around over and over. That is all I know.<br />
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::looking up:: Hope you enjoy your damn beach! <br />
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There is an analogy that we are travelers, that this life is just a hotel stop on a long endless journey for the sake of the journey. Well, I'm tired of traveling. Call me lazy, I don't care. I might get bored, so what. Someone will kick me out of this hotel eventually. <br />
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Happy random-day-selected-as-the-beginning-of-a-new-calendar year! <br />
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(BTW Why didn't they pick a random day in a warmer time of year, like spring! Now that would makes sense!)bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-89892669521942749162010-12-20T17:16:00.000-05:002011-01-08T23:11:26.325-05:00All I want for Christmas is some emptinessIt's Sunday afternoon and I find myself sitting in a Ben & Jerry's sucking down a Chocolate Therapy shake looking out the window at all the people rushing about and I start crying.<br />
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I've finished all the gift shopping, I'm leisurely doing errands and stop to treat myself guilt free and I get all teary eyed. Am I PMS'ing? Am I crazy?<br />
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Oh, that's right, I'm a woman. These things happen. <br />
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Complicating gender induced emotional turmoil is that I'm an empath. At times, I pick up on the crowd or a person and a wave of sadness, loss, anger, etc. leads me to tears. I wish I could identify the culprit, raise a fist and yell, "Hey you! Keep your emotions to yourself, will ya!"<br />
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It usually happens in a reflective moment, when I'm trying to be in the moment and not caught up in my own thoughts. Not that my own thoughts don't cause me to tear up, they can, but I can usually tell when an emotion is not my own because it doesn't make any logical sense to have arisen in that moment, like when I'm savoring the chocolaty decadence of thick milk shake.<br />
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Alright guys. I can hear you laughing...women's emotions don't make any logical sense in ANY moment! Yeah, yeah...go turn on the football and watch some "logical" anger issues arise that make perfect sense.<br />
[rolling eyes] <br />
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Yes, sometimes I empath some nice emotions, like love or joy or amusement. I'll feel warmth in my chest or feel like smiling for no apparent reason (see my Smiling post and you'll understand why it is a strange behavior for me). I feel grateful for these particular waves and send out a thank you to the universe and a wish that all beings can feel this way all of the time.<br />
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Is that the right thing to do? Is there a right thing to do?<br />
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Does it really matter where the emotions are coming from? I just have to deal with them no matter the source. <br />
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So, I'm trying to enjoy my Chocolate Therapy shake [insert professional therapy joke here] and the more ways I try to deal with the latest wave of emotional turmoil, the worse it gets. Trying to feel compassion, appreciation or anything mindful just causes more tears to flow.<br />
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I know that if I can overcome the self-consciousness of crying in public and steal a meditative moment to reflect on emptiness, I can find a moment of peace. I try to remember that all things, including emotions, are an appearance to mind and that they lack inherent existence. True peace is the absence of all conventional reality.<br />
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Who am I kidding? I can barely grasp emptiness on the cushion much less sitting in a Ben & Jerry's having a sugar rush. ;-)<br />
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Something easier that helps shut it down is to stop being mindful and consume my mind with some mundane to do list or political resentment. In other words, turning off the compassion switch and becoming self-absorbed... <br />
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...Oh, so that's why we do that.<br />
:-\bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-13779345200571554452010-11-22T16:43:00.000-05:002010-11-22T16:44:29.392-05:00Grace and Unflinching PurposeThe popular phrase, "as the crow flies" denotes taking a straight course.<br />
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Although crows are fascinating and very smart, I'm partial to eagles in today's post... <br />
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I was once blessed with witnessing the way an eagle flies straight into a storm. Yes, INTO a storm. Steady, gracefully, purposefully.<br />
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Standing in the parking lot of the Veteran's Memorial outside Taos, New Mexico, the sky was darkening, the wind was strong, a storm was brewing at the top of the mountain. A blue jay could barely fly WITH the wind and a poor sparrow looked to be flung into the ground for trying its wing against the gusts.<br />
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Then, a Golden showed them how it was done. Giving me a sideways glance as she flew overhead without a flap, not even her feathers flinched as she soared with purpose directly into the darkest center of the storm.<br />
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Wow.<br />
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I want to do that. I want to show them how it's done. I want to fly straight into each storm of this Samara, this life of struggles, with grace and unflinching purpose - as the eagle flies.<br />
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In the meantime, I'm a sparrow with bruises.bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-11733642950168047902010-11-11T18:01:00.000-05:002010-11-11T18:01:39.878-05:00The Yoga Perv<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 10pt;">A clairvoyant once told me that sometimes when a 'god' or 'goddess' is amongst 'ordinary' folks, sometimes those 'ordinary' folks don't know how to behave properly in the presence of a god/goddess and they may pay homage or tribute in a way that is perceived as inappropriate. <br />
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That's a very enlightened way of contextualizing a flasher.<br />
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I was in a partner yoga class with a stranger as my partner. During a face to face cross legged position, I noticed that his boner was seeping semen through his lycra shorts. <br />
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No joke. No mistaking the occurrence. <br />
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My body gave me an immediate signal to exit stage left with an intense leg cramp. Note to self: pamper this temple in gratitude. <br />
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Apparently, someone reported it after class because they had seen it and was concerned for me. How kind of her. Validation.<br />
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I too reported it, but later, after a walk in the park and a freak out session in the privacy of my own home. <br />
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Why did I not want to embarrass the hell out of the perv during class? Would that not have been lady like? Did I really not want to disturb the rest of class? Would that have secured the wrath of a potentially violent perv? I played it safe or smart? Somehow, I doubt that a yoga block to the face would have left much of an impression on him. <br />
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Nevertheless, I don't regret my classy composure in contrast to his "relax, it's tantric, it's supposed to be pleasurable" response to the unmistakable "ew!" in my expression. <br />
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How was I supposed to react? Like a good girl - get upset but not too upset? Like a good victim - feel ashamed, ask 'why me?' and get angry as hell? Like a good Buddhist - oh, it's my karma, oh well? <br />
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How about all of the above because all of the above are all me and all are valid, equally. Call it equanimity of emotional response. Just like he is perv, a sad misled soul, a loser, a tantric practitioner, a future Buddha, my mother/enemy/lover in a past and future life. He is all of those things and I can feel all of those things. It is my potential to experience all possibilities, so I feel all possibilities. <br />
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It's my party, I can cry if I want to. <br />
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As I stood in the park contemplating the rush of emotions after what had just happened, I looked up and saw three great egrets spiraling up a wind draft to gain altitude. It was windy and it didn't look easy. <br />
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Pause... Thank you, universe, for the much needed inspiration. <br />
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What do I feel when he's banned from the yoga studio? Justified, defiant, guilty, empathy, fear for the next unsuspecting yoga student...<br />
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In spite of all of the possibilities, I wish him to be truly well and happy because if he's truly well and happy he's not jacking off in front of people anymore. </span>bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-60912657476036890192010-10-30T23:54:00.000-04:002010-11-11T18:02:39.988-05:00Dharma Dreams: The Middle WorldThe dream: <br />
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I woke up in a hotel room as someone ran in yelling, "We have to get out now! Armed men are taking over the hotel! They are killing and torturing people!"<br />
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I could hear them scream. This must be what it’s like to be in hell. <br />
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A group of us made a run for it down the hall. We found a fire escape and then traversed down a steep rocky cliff to the narrow beach. <br />
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I felt terrible leaving all those people behind. <br />
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We walked for several hours along the narrow shoreline. <br />
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I worried that the armed men had seen us escape and would follow us. <br />
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We came across a rope ladder in the cliff side. Figuring we were far enough away, we should find out where this leads and try to send help back to the people held hostage in the hotel. <br />
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We helped each other up the flimsy rope ladder, slowly, steadily, and anxiously. <br />
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At the top, we saw a vast courtyard and a white temple in the distance. It looked inviting. <br />
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As we approached, there was a helicopter at the entrance to the temple grounds. The pilot was motionless and emotionless, like a mannequin. He said we could enter if we wanted, but that once we did, we couldn’t leave. I asked him about helping the others left behind in the hotel. He said, “They are learning to bleed.” <br />
<br />
The temple was busy with people walking around, chatting, smiling and eating ice cream. Everyone looked extremely happy, perhaps too happy. This must be what it’s like to be in heaven. <br />
<br />
“Would you like some ice cream?” <br />
<br />
Something didn’t sit right with me. If heaven and hell are two extremes in duality, then how is either the correct place to be? <br />
<br />
I knew we shouldn’t stay there. It was tempting but I knew if we stayed too long, we would be stuck there. We had to find the way back to the middle world, where it was not like hell and not like heaven. <br />
<br />
We started looking for an invisible door back to our middle world where we belonged. I don’t know how we knew what to look for but I knew we would know it when we saw it. <br />
<br />
We had to hurry. There wasn’t much time. <br />
<br />
Then I woke up.bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-25166028340933459172010-10-30T01:54:00.001-04:002010-11-11T18:03:34.579-05:00Dharma Dreams: Agnostic Ascension<style>
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</style>The dream: <br />
<br />
I had just drowned with many other people in a large house. We began floating up. Water still filled the room but I couldn’t feel it anymore. I was aware of my state and so were the others but I strangely lacked a reaction to my predicament. It just seemed as a matter of fact. <br />
<br />
I could see a young boy floating out of the window and his legs were broken and twisted. I figured that must have happened when he died and I hoped that he hadn’t felt much pain, but it didn’t much matter now. <br />
<br />
I was curious about something so I asked the person next to me. “Why is it that when we die, we always float up?” She replied, “Because we are dead. That is what we do, we float up.” <br />
<br />
Then I woke up.bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-25363047078207822302010-10-30T01:54:00.000-04:002010-11-11T18:04:07.123-05:00Dharma Dreams: Getting the Hell Out of HellThe dream:<br />
<br />
I felt excruciating pain then I was dead.<br />
<br />
I was in a large flooded room with extremely high ceilings like the lobby of a fancy of modern bank building. People were lined up filing through a doorway into hell. Of course, everyone looked miserable and the mood was a bit bleak, much like standing in line for a bank teller. <br />
<br />
As I approached the door, a man waiting at the door told me I didn’t have to be here. He said I could leave anytime I wanted. I asked him how. He pointed at the large doors on the other side of the room where we had just entered. He said I could just go through them. I felt slow and sluggish as I turned toward them. They closed. I felt discouraged and doomed. <br />
<br />
“It’s too late,” I said. <br />
<br />
“No, it’s not,” he replied. <br />
<br />
“The doors have closed.” <br />
<br />
“Just push them open.” <br />
<br />
I wanted to believe him, but was it that easy? Wasn't my fate sealed? Was it a trick? Could I really leave? Should I really leave? Didn't I have an obligation to follow the others? <br />
<br />
Then I woke up.bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-80567676668470129642010-10-30T01:24:00.000-04:002010-10-30T01:24:49.885-04:00Dharma Dreams: Day of the Dead SeriesIn honor of the Day of Dead and Halloween, I will be posting some scary dreams I've had over the years and some dreams of being dead.<br />
<br />
Hope you get a trick and treat out of them!<br />
<br />
Happy Halloween! <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8YM1IL9iRzP9rnjmaA3Ve5Jj6PRhKVU1APB-aXXfzIJaHGdfY_msrFR3nlpk0gAmEx8PFXHVVsmjXNam0DA784SlGi86T9QLgMPLzvfFdqG7KT-Mt9uV-J9SXww-UYOplk9DKbNrI1aT/s1600/spookycat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz8YM1IL9iRzP9rnjmaA3Ve5Jj6PRhKVU1APB-aXXfzIJaHGdfY_msrFR3nlpk0gAmEx8PFXHVVsmjXNam0DA784SlGi86T9QLgMPLzvfFdqG7KT-Mt9uV-J9SXww-UYOplk9DKbNrI1aT/s200/spookycat.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-21300075136116807072010-10-27T08:49:00.000-04:002010-10-29T23:31:52.123-04:00SmilingSome people are blessed with a natural perkiness. They smile easily and have a cheerful tone in their natural speech. I'm not one of them. I have a natural scowl. When I'm concentrating or thinking about neutral topics, I look angry. Countless times have people entered my office asking what was wrong. Nothing, I reply. I simply never felt the obligation to provide perky body language. Why did people assume the worst? Why couldn't they just accept my serious disposition. I wasn't hurting anyone. It's just me.<br />
<br />
Oh, but I'm a woman. If I were a man, then my natural scowl would be interpreted as serious and intellectual, not as an ice queen. The other problem was that I lived in Los Angeles. There is an unwritten rule of social conduct in Sunny So Cal that you must have a sunny disposition at all times. SMILE!!! <br />
<br />
I resented these expectations and whenever I heard someone tell me to smile, my natural scowl instantly became determined and deeper. I longed to be free to be me.<br />
<br />
Then I moved to New York City. Ahhhh. Now, here was a place where no one would dare tell me to smile. In fact, smiling is seen as either chemically induced or the result of a chemical imbalance in the brain. I was home!<br />
<br />
Sure enough, no one did tell me to smile. I truly appreciated the license to not smile. I was blissfully smiling under my god-given scowl! Well, maybe smirking. <br />
<br />
;-)<br />
<br />
But then, I began learning in my Dharma studies that a joyful practice is essential. WTF? This is a serious problem. It goes against my natural disposition, one that I have nurtured and accepted and found a place for in this world! Now I have to move back to Sunny So Cal in my meditation practice?! Noooooooooo!<br />
<br />
I began resenting the instruction that if I'm practicing correctly I'll be more joyful no matter what. I began resenting what I perceived to be pressure within the Sangha to act like an enlightened being all the time no matter what. Yes, I know that my ego is doing the resenting, but the thought of me becoming a Blisshead was beyond revolting. <br />
<br />
Now wait a minute, wait just a minute. Haven't I read about quite a few eccentric Mahasiddhas who displayed less than Blisshead dispositions? In fact, I've read of some violent, drunken, "rude" ones and others who engaged in unusual social behavior for their time? Oh yeah, they were men, so they are given license to be genius eccentrics. I may be a terrible two year old in my spiritual evolution, but I know that that my personality is the result of karma and it's manifest for me to work WITH not against or erase, just as a physical 'limitation' may present a challenge.<br />
<br />
So, when I began embracing my personality as my unique way of interacting with other beings in this incarnation with the wish to practice Dharma, I began to let go of the ego pride and relax INTO my seriousness, not grasp at getting rid of it, hiding it or justifying it. <br />
<br />
Guess what. I smile more easily now. Just an unwanted side effect of Dharma practice. Not sure if I'm smiling more but who's counting. <br />
<br />
I'm a blissed bitch.<br />
<br />
;-)bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-43288692324086870932010-10-25T09:37:00.000-04:002010-10-29T23:32:22.259-04:00Living the Dharma in NYC (6am)My upstairs neighbor is so kind to wake me up every morning at 6am. I normally get up at 7 or 7:30 but 6am is a good time to practice compassion and not yell obscenities as loud as I can. 6am gives me an extra hour of meditation time and I need it to transform my resentment into gratitude that I don't have to get up at 6am like my poor neighbor.bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-68156909929394702292010-10-25T01:08:00.000-04:002010-10-29T23:33:12.678-04:00Post Bliss BluesWhen the buzz wore off about nine months (hmmm) after my Kundalini awakening and I found my old self had returned, I was angry. I struggled to remember the insights, to bring them back in all their blissful glory. I watched as the dull thick fog of this illusory experience we call 'reality' smothered the truth beauty I had been gifted to witness. I know it's still there. I know I'm just in the way again. I started to feel like a failure, like I had lost the most precious thing entrusted to me. How could that happen?!<br />
<br />
It didn't.<br />
<br />
I trust that my path, however it meanders, is just fine. I needed to be hit over the head then return to myself in order to appreciate my path on a deeper level. There is no destination. Watching myself traverse daily experiences of this illusory human experience from multiple vantage points is MY expansion AT THIS TIME. Don't show me your map and tell me I'm lost. I have a different map. I don't know where it is at the moment, but I know it's somewhere and it will knock me upside the head again just when I need it! <br />
<br />
:-D<br />
<br />
A slow progression of some of the same insights is now beginning to arise within my 'normal' experiences providing a multidimensional understanding of events. Now I understand the writings that say there isn't just one truth, there are many. It's kind of like those movies that take you through a story from different points of view of different characters. Or, to use the age old mountain metaphor...What does the vista look like if you can see it from the bottom of the mountain, the plateau AND the summit all at the same time? Now add the vista from the other side of the mountain!<br />
<br />
Perhaps more expansions, more levels of insight are to come that will add to the depth of my experience. Or, perhaps not. I think I have quite enough to work with at the moment, thank you very much!<br />
<br />
One truth is that it is late and my body needs rest. Peaceful dreams!bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-92200210396926624292010-10-25T00:33:00.000-04:002010-10-29T23:27:37.655-04:00My Kundalini Awakening<div style="font-family: inherit;">So I had this awakening of some sort about a year and a half ago and I was blissed out for nearly a year. I was seeing magic in everything :rolling eyes:. No worries, I finally feel like my old cynical self again. :sigh:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
Have you ever read "After the Ecstasy, the Laundry" by Jack Kornfield? If you are on a spiritual path of any kind, it's a must read. In no way am I saying I'm enlightened by any means, but awakening to the interconnectedness of everything is quite the slap upside the head...with a sledgehammer. The stars and birds blink and tweet above your head for a while and then the brain swelling begins to cause nausea and headaches. I can see how living in a cave and hardly ever seeing many people would be much more conducive to maintaining a blissed out state. However, living in NYC and having a stressful day job will kill a dharma buzz in a new york minute. <br />
<br />
I'm blessed with an uncomplicated life (ahem, single no kids) so taking a week off to pace my apartment in a manic state was called paid sick time. If I hadn't had a meditation practice, I would have checked myself into a psych hospital for a mental breakdown or mid-life crisis or gone to the ER for a brain scan. I knew this was either the Buddhas kicking my spiritual ass or a brain tumor. <br />
<br />
After five days of not sleeping or eating, just frantically writing crazy memories and pacing like a lunatic, it climaxed in a near hallucinatory vision of a golden tapestry. I could see how every single thing was interconnected and meaningful, even down to a grain of sand. I think I was crying and laughing at the same time. A profound blanket of peace settled on me and I felt as though I could sit there for ever accept that I couldn't wait to write it down (can you say grasping?). I was so excited by it. I was pouring out love to every one on the street and on the subway. Don't panic, I wasn't actually interacting with anyone like a real crazy person, but I was sending out the love vibes because I simply didn't know what else to do. <br />
<br />
I was clearly out of my league, so I reached out for some guidance. My meditation teacher simply listened and smiled. Research on the Internet and several more books later, I figured it was some kind of Kundalini awakening. I still don't know what that is! There are so many different descriptions, so many different views on what to do and what not to do (do energy work, don't do energy work). None of my Dharma books say anything about it. Bits and pieces of this new age book, that new age blog, and different online forums of normal people chatting about their experiences have been more help than anything else. Books by so-called experts usually take an "I know everything, do it this way or else" approach and that doesn't sit right with me, and men write most of them, of course. "Oneness" by Rasha (a woman) was the only book I found to be quite helpful, though, a bit 'out there.' (Yes, gender makes a difference in how deep emotional experiences are written and since I'm a woman...)<br />
<br />
So, after all that, this is where I am with it: I suppose I'm supposed to just make of it whatever and however is helpful to me on my path. I think. <br />
<br />
:-/<br />
<br />
It's just a crazy memory now. I almost hope it doesn't happen again. </div>bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-49397174623255366882010-10-24T23:12:00.000-04:002010-10-29T23:33:51.703-04:00Another patriarchal religion2500 years and not one female lineage guru in the transmission of the Dharma. I don't get it. If gender is supposed to be empty of inherent existence then why are there not any female lineage gurus? A few token female Buddhas certainly doesn't balance it out.<br />
<br />
Why are men always the leaders of big spiritual movements? It must be a control thing. Obviously profound spiritual realizations have not been able to transcend their genetic urge to dominate. Tsk tsk.<br />
<br />
I say we need ALL female lineage gurus for the next 2500 years! Then we might be balanced and some of this Dharma might actually start making some sense to me! <br />
<br />
Hey, don't burn me at the stake or label me a prostitute just because of my genitals, boobs, hormones, pretty face, soft hair, curvy butt...<br />
<br />
:-Pbbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-12306835967132909462010-10-24T22:56:00.000-04:002010-10-29T23:34:24.410-04:00Living the Dharma in NYC (slow walkers)It is not good karma to curse the slow walkers under my breath. I should be grateful for their kind teaching on patience. I am not more important than they are.<br />
<br />
Perhaps they have pain when they walk. Perhaps they have nowhere to go. Perhaps they know it annoys me to death that they are in my way and take great pleasure in showing me what a hurrying bitch I am.<br />
<br />
Repeat as needed:<br />
<br />
It is not good karma to curse the slow walkers under my breath. I should be grateful for their kind teaching on patience. I am not more important than they are.bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8126648715214149260.post-75943413483325600652010-10-24T22:39:00.000-04:002010-10-29T23:34:49.556-04:00Gotta start somewhereI'm a reluctant spiritual traveler but aren't we all? Many people just don't realize it yet but they are on a path too. Ignorance is bliss until you learn that ignorance is the root of all our problems. So real bliss is wisdom realizing emptiness but it may take you countless lifetimes to get there. In the meantime, we are supposed to JOYFULLY embark on an endless journey to enlightenment through various realms of suffering.<br />
<br />
Okayyyy, who the hell thought of this stuff? Why create samsara and ignorance in the first place?! And what's so great about enlightenment if there's nothing there?! Nihilism is more optimistic that this! I think we are being played. Or is this supposed to be play?bbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04686037831887207748noreply@blogger.com0