Tag Archives: Buddhist

Poem: how precious this life

Poem: n. A verbal composition designed to convey experiences, ideas, or emotions in a vivid and imaginative way, characterized by the use of language chosen for its sound and suggestive power and by the use of literary techniques such as meter, metaphor, and rhyme.

Precious: adj. highly esteemed, cherished, worthy, valuable

Rev. Arthur Vaeni came down from Olympia Unitarian Universalist Congregation to speak on Sunday – about what’s really important. (A terrific message: you can listen to an earlier version of it here: Four Reasons to Try Something Different.)

It was a Buddhist message, calling us to wake up to the present moment, because life is precious and it’s all too short- a realization make all the more poignant given the gun violence that snuffed out so many precious lives in recent days.

He quoted several Buddhist sages, and read one of my favorite teaching poems “Bugs in a Bowl” ( blogged here).

Bottom line: life is what it is; this moment is what it is; you can choose to resist it (whine, complain, deny) or get into it.

He closed with a poem by Susan Griffin:

Born Into a World Knowing

This will happen
Oh god we say just give
me a few more
breaths
and don’t let it be
terrible
let it be soft
perhaps in someone’s
arms, perhaps tasting
chocolate
perhaps
laughing or asking
Is it over already?
or saying not yet. Not
yet
the sky
has at this moment turned
another shade of blue,
and see there a child
still plays
in the fresh snow.

Profundity in poetry

Profundity: depth of intellect, feeling or meaning.

Instead of a sermon this morning, folks were asked to share a short reading that inspired them, if they wished. As Unitarian Universalists we believe wisdom is not confined to a few “sacred scriptures” but can be found in many places.  Our congregation has a decidedly Buddhist leaning, so this poem tickled all of us:

Bugs in a Bowl by David Budbill, from Moment to Moment: Poems of a Mountain Recluse

Han Shan, that great and crazy, wonder-filled Chinese poet of a thousand years ago, said:
We’re just like bugs in a bowl. All day going around never leaving their bowl.

I say, That’s right! Every day climbing up
the steep sides, sliding back.

Over and over again. Around and around.
Up and back down.

Sit in the bottom of the bowl, head in your hands,
cry, moan, feel sorry for yourself.

Or. Look around. See your fellow bugs.

Walk around.
Say, “Hey, how you doin’?”
Say, “Nice bowl!”

My offering (even though I do not fish) was a song I love by Nashville songwriter and motivational speaker Tim Bays:

The Important Part of Fishin’ (follow the link to hear the swing of it!)

The important part of fishin’ ain’t the fish but the fishin’
The important part of lovin’ is to love
The important part of doin’ most anything you’re doin’
Is doin’ it with all of your heart.

‘Cause if the fish don’t bite
You still got the water and the trees and the sky up above
And if your lover’s not with you
Don’t be sad that you miss him
Be glad your little boat is still afloat.

The important part of fishin’ ain’t the fish but the fishin’
The important part of lovin’ is to love
The important part of doin’ most anything you’re doin’
Is doin’ it with all of your heart.

‘Cause if the fish don’t bite
You get some time for thinking and your life is what you’re thinking about
And if your lover’s not with you
You get more time for fishin’
It’s amazing how it all works out.

The important part of fishin’ ain’t the fish but the fishin’
The important part of lovin’ is to love
The important part of doin’ most anything you’re doin’
Is doin’ it with all of your heart.

Do it now with all of your heart,
Do it now with all of your heart.

Patience #2

Once upon a time I was not a patient person.  My life, the traffic, the checkout line – none of it moved fast enough for me.  I remember reading a book back in the 70s titled Don’t Push the River (by one of Fritz Perls’ followers), and thinking, “why not??”

About ten years ago I went to see my Unitarian pastor about my marriage, hoping that he would tell me if I should stay or go.

(He’s also a practicing Buddhist.) He told me I was too “ambitious.”

What? Me?  He explained that he meant ambitious in the sense that I was striving for an answer (pushing the river) when the answer wasn’t yet ready to present itself.  Ambition as a form of impatience.

One day a couple of years later the answer revealed itself clearly and simply – and because of that patient stewing period the ensuing separation was pretty painless.

These days I’m much much more patient than I used to be. Yoga has definitely helped. Being older and having more perspective on what’s really important has also helped.

The fellow over at ZenHabits has a post up with his tips on cultivating patience. He suggests keeping track of your impatient moments by making check marks on a tally sheet, and by noticing what specific sorts of things tally impatient feelings.

My friend Paul suggests rock-stacking, as he did on a recent camping trip.

I’m done with traffic and checkout line impatience.  Those have been gone for years.  My two biggest impatience triggers these days are:

  • people who talk on and on (an on), without ever seeming to be able to locate their point
  • wanting to know the outcome of a situation in the future (that I can’t possibly know till that time arrives) -like whether this old high school friend and I will actually be able to create a viable relationship when we see each other at reunion in mid-August…. my imagination can’t let this puppy rest!

All my spiritual learnings tell me to breathe and be here now, since NOW is all I’ve got. Ever. Werner used to tell us “what is is; what isn’t isn’t” – get over it.

It’s hard.

Perspective – thank you Werner

Last night I watched “Transformation: the Life and Legacy of Werner Erhard.” The film included scenes of the est training in San Francisco from the early 1970s and recent interviews with Werner, as well as with former well-known participants, observers and critics.

I “did the training” in early 1972 when Werner was still leading most of it. I also took several graduate seminars, the six-day course and a seminar leaders training program with him, so the film was very much déjà vu – and it brought home to me the enormity of Werner’s impact not only on my life and the lives of hundreds of thousands of others, but on the fabric of our culture today.

Although the training was brutal, in the sense that we were expected to stay in the room, fully alert and attentive to the proceedings for excruciatingly long hours without food or bathroom breaks, I found it riveting. Werner was the sharpest, most observant and articulate person I’d ever met. His (what I would call) dharma talks and his interactions with individual participants took my breath away.

Particularly his interactions with participants who complained or challenged him. His bullshit detector was acute and he’d drill down to the person’s main issue (or “racket”) in a matter of minutes, sometimes seconds. And then he’d bear down one-on-one until suddenly you could see the light bulb come on and an astonished smile creep across the person’s face.

Busted. And everyone in the room could tell that something major had shifted.

For every individual he worked with, fifty or a hundred or three hundred more of us could insert our own version of racket and get a similar shift. Light bulbs popping all over the room.

My sense was that Werner never got into one of these tussles without being totally clear that the other person was capable of moving through it to the other side, where joy and freedom waited. Where someone else saw impasse, he saw possibility.

He wanted us to get out of our thinking mind and into direct experience so we would get that what is is, and what isn’t isn’t. (est in Latin means “it is”). Not until we accept what is (as opposed to what we wished it were or thought it should be) do we have the power of choice about our response.

What is isn’t good or bad, it just is.  It’s a Taoist or Buddhist perspective translated for the westerner.

I’m not always there, but since this shift in perspective I’ve been able to weather life with much greater equanimity, greater tolerance, and greater respect for the unique gifts of others.

It’s not like I’ve achieved Samadhi… but most of the time I experience life with open arms. Again, thank you Werner.