On September Suffering, On Refuge.

Bayou Teche, Louisiana, USA.  July, 2012 by Mix Hart
I chose this photo for this particular post for its serenity: a young blue heron on the bayou, amongst the graceful lotus blossoms--a true place of refuge for the mind.

I had a dream last night that made total sense of feminism and Buddhism. I dreamed that I was me but I was also a matriarchal, nurturing Buddha and on my knee was a happy little boy. The little boy was so happy, fun and adorable; blonde, blue-eyed and freckles on his nose. I told him he looked like a young David Bowie. He jumped from my knee to go and try out playing a drum set. And then I realized that the little boy was me, as a child, in male form.

It all made sense: I am the Buddha, I am also the child looking for refuge in the Buddha. I am both male and female in energy (essence) and so is the Buddha. We are interchangeable, one and the same. We all have the nature of the Buddha and we are all of male and female truth.

September is not an easy month for most Westerners. It is a new school year, fraught with changes. One often feels confused and overwhelmed by the physical and mental demands of the day. We all suffer in ways.

I am not immune to this September Suffering.
I have been practicing mindfulness for some time, practicing meditation and learning Buddhist philosophy for ten years. So, as a Westerner (and our achievement oriented culture), I had ideas of what I should have accomplished, to date, in my mindfulness training.

When September stresses combined with other stress factors began to eat away at my happiness, I was  disappointed in my mind. I believed that it failed me. I was suffering, I was experiencing anxiety, depression and a dose of self loathing. How could this be? I thought (with all my mindfulness knowledge and training) that I would not fall into this type of suffering anymore, that the strength of my mind would not allow it.

And so, when I found myself unhappy and overwhelmed, I became angry with myself: I had failed my self again--I had not mastered mindfulness training. The desire to kick oneself when one is down is strong.
How dare I feel suffering?! I have a good life, I should be stronger than that. But then, after a few nasty kicks at myself, and discussing a little dharma with another, the mindfulness came back.

We all suffer. Strength is not in preventing the suffering but rather what one does with suffering. To feel anger at oneself, or something/someone for the suffering, only prolongs and intensifies the suffering. To have compassion, to accept it is one's nature to suffer, this is what eases the pain. Compassion ends anger and nurtures happiness.

And all those problems I have in trying to achieve the modern life, the ones contributing to the overall September suffering? They are only problems if I believe they need to be solved. If I believe they do not need to be solved, only left on their own to evolve in one way or another, I can focus my attention on the things that bring me joy. When problems no longer need a resolution, but rather, are observed as a work in progress--they are no longer problems.

This is what I love about mindfulness training, even when you think you fail, you actually have the opportunity to turn conceived failures into great lessons and experiential wisdom.

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Bare Foot Buddhism

My morning  footprints on the Northwest Coast, Oregon, USA

My feet. Monkey toes.

Another's footprints on the beach that morning.

A teeny crab Anemone found in the Salmon River--that's her little thumb.

Northwest Pacific coastal shore Plant

Northwest Pacific Coastal plant on the rocky shore. Such a beautiful plant with it's colours and shapes.

A still life I created with objects I'd just found in low tide. The rock made me think of my darling little girl at home. I thought Pippi's little fingers would fit perfectly in the rock. Whenever I am separated from my girls, it is often small things in nature that remind me of my darlings--knowing we would cherish the beauty together.

Another fascinating shore plant with interesting green berries at Westwind, Oregon.

One of the great gifts I received from the Buddhist Mindfulness retreat at Westwind, Oregon, was the freedom to walk barefoot for the entire stay: through sandy shores, pine needle paths, rocky paths and wooden floors. The natural beauty of the coast is surreal in its spectacularness and I was blessed to explore this region barefoot--connecting completely with the land and sea. Walking barefoot is the best thing for the brain and mind. All the nerves in the foot are stimulated by the changing surfaces, and temperatures, this stimulates the brain. It forces one to be present in the moment--aware of each and every step one takes, connecting fully with one's movement through space. The retreat was perfection for one's health: barefoot, healthy fresh foods, raw natural setting, many other humans to activate the social areas of our brains and meditation.
I've always been one to forgo the shoes whenever I can. As a child I'd slip off my shoes to run barefoot home from friends' houses, feeling I was so much faster barefoot. I've never liked slippers either, preferring my bare feet on floors. Perhaps this is why, to this day, my toes are very flexible--my sister used to call me monkey toes as a child because I can move my toes in many directions. It's an easy gift we can all give ourselves: walk barefoot to stimulate your brain and body--it feels great. My eldest daughter appears to have flat feet--the flattest I have seen. But a recent trip to a specialist pointed out the true nature of those long, thin, elegant feet of hers: they are super flexible. Her feet are not actually flat at all. In the air, while stepping, she has a lovely arch, on contact with the ground, her over-flexible foot completely compresses--flattens out. The specialist advised no treatment other than continuing to strengthen them with barefoot walking and ballet (she is taking point this year). With those super-rubbery feet of hers I am sure she'll be the first on point! So, my darling daughter and I often walk the rocky mountain trails near our home together-barefoot. The rocks are big and sharp. The hike is the ultimate foot strengthening test. Ideally though, we need to live on a long stretch of sandy beach (like the wonderful Westwind) so we can walk and run with the tide each morning.

Enlightenment on the Beach

One thing I know to be true: a day at the beach is never boring. It is also the best way for me to clear my mind. A cool dip in the lake followed by lying in the sun with a good book--a perfect way to find mindfulness.

An afternoon spent at one of my home town beaches did not disappoint.

As soon as I arrived at the beach, I noticed that is was quiet for a warm summer afternoon. Perfect. I had no trouble claiming beach front property. I spread out my Barcelona beach towel and then headed right into the lake for a quick swim. Refreshing--a little chillier than the Gulf of Mexico but perfect for swimming. After a quick dip, I decided to read as I dried off. I pulled a paperback from my beach bag: Buddhism After Patriarchy--A Feminist History, Analysis and Reconstruction of Buddhism. The book is a treasure. I was immersed in it a month ago and then I inadvertently left it on the plane to Texas. I was so sad as it was the book I had planned to read all holiday. However, as soon as I returned home from my trip, I reordered it from Amazon. A new copy just arrived yesterday in the mail :)

-Back to the beach story:
 I was delving into my book when suddenly the entertainment arrived--a family consisting of a slightly inebriated mother and her 3 teenage children. The foursome set up camp beside me. Every second word out of each member's mouth was "Fuck":

 "Get in the F***ing water!"

"I hate the F***ing seaweed."

"What the F*** are you doing?"

 "I'm F***ing swimming."

"F*** come over here."

"F*** I'm coming."

"Where's my F***ing cell phone?"

 "Come on Mom, F**ing get in!"

 "Just wait a F***ing minute!"

Eventually, the mother did get the fuck into the lake. And then the mother started to fucking panic. She was in deep water, struggling to stay afloat beside her laughing teenage daughter. The mother yelled, "Help me!" The daughter laughed, but I could tell that the mother was seriously in trouble. The mother quit saying, "fuck." Her only words were a desperate, "Help me!"The daughter finally yelled to her teenage brother, "Get the F*** in here and help her. She wants you to F***ing save her."

Yes, (thankfully) in went the teenage boy (it was either him or me), "What the F*** are you doing mom? Just f***ing swim." But the mother couldn't fucking swim. Couldn't he see that was the real issue?  He finally waded in and dragged his drowning mother to shore. So there she sat in the shallows, waving both middle fingers high in the air and shouting "F***you!" to her laughing children.

The drama wrapped up almost as quickly as it started and my entertainment crew decided it was time to go. As they were packing up to leave,  a new neighbor arrived: a man, a single, quiet man. First his shirt came off, and then his shorts. Suddenly, I questioned the sex. What was he/she... really? The tiny bathing suit was fitted (tight). OK, decided he was definitely a man. The man was wearing a teeny-weeny black women's bikini (yes a 2 piece). I'd like to be able to tell you that he rocked that teeny-weeny bikini, but he was a rather hairy beast. He was a fine neighbor though, a quiet neighbor indeed.

I returned to my book and then back into the water for a brief swim, and then back to the book. That is when the strangest thing happened, as I was reading my treasured book, my eyes followed a short-legged dog and its female owner along the beach. They waded into the shallows in front of me, strolling along the water's edge together. Under the brim of my hat, I saw the short doggy-legs come closer and closer towards my beach towel, followed by the tanned and tattooed legs of its owner. The tattooed legs bent down beside my towel and a red haired woman whispered into my face, "Is that a man or a woman on the beach beside you?"
I replied calmly, "A man."
Red Haired Woman: "Why is he wearing a woman's bikini?"    
Me: "I don't know. I guess he likes it."
Woman: "That's unusual!"
Me: "Yes, not something you see often."
And then the woman with the short-legged dog stood up and walked away.

And so, back to my book, another swim and more reading. Then I was hungry. I packed up my camp, ready to head home. As I passed the bikini guy he said something to me. I couldn't hear him so I said my usual, "Sorry?"
"A nice day at the beach was it?"he said.
"Yes it was," I said. And oddly, from that very brief exchange of words, I felt that there was something about him, something interesting, something true.

Picnic with Pip

This is the view directly behind my home. We just walk over the top of the mountain and arrive here. It is easy to see why I adore this mountain.

Pip and Mom. Pip picked out this picnic spot for us.

Pip taking in the lake view.

More Pip

Pip enjoying the iced tea.

When the weather is lovely, I take the time to just be outdoors. Impromptu hikes and mini picnics happen with ease.  I adore a warm climate, it facilitates this easy living outdoors. Ironic that my ancestors chose Canada to immigrate to. Though I cannot complain about Canada. For what it lacks in tropical climate, it makes up for in almost everything else .

Preparing to leave the children and dogs for a week requires so much planning and prep that it is overwhelming--much easier to simply stay home. June is especially difficult as the children have many ceremonies to attend that I will miss. I am fortunate to have a very brave nephew stepping in to attempt the job of looking after this big, demanding brood of mine.

 Pablo comes home today. I will leave him just when he needs me and my time the most--to keep up his training. Again, I leave him in the hands of my brave nephew.

Today is a whirlwind: Walk Fernando, pick up Pablo, training session with him, nephew arrives, Spring Fair at the little girls' school, piano concert tonight for big girls (dear Tabs is included in both categories), laundry, grocery shop for week, pack.

I will finish my editing work and start some more while I am away.

Why do I blog when my world seems chaotic with no time to find mindfulness? Because it gives me mindfulness. The art of writing and creating this blog makes me present, engaged and contributes a teeny-tiny bit to the blogsphere and my own growth as a writer.

Desperately need to practice more mindfulness. Teaching Zumba requires complete mindfulness, one tiny slip up--a new thought floats into my head and bam! I forget the next dance step, the music sounds foreign to me and I blank out. Almost never happens to me because I am practiced at being present as a dance instructor. But with the craziness of the last two weeks, my mind was not as sharp as it usually is and yesterday I blanked out on one step during a song I have danced to 1000 times and know inside and out. Mindfulness may not seem like such a vital thing--teach a Zumba class and suddenly you realize how vital it is!

Go With The Flow Fernando

 Fernando's Sexy and He Knows It

My life is new. New, in that now I am no longer a student. I am also no longer the mother of preschoolers. I was nervous to see how everything would transpire once I had finished my thesis, Pippi entered kindergarten and I was ready to focus on the next step of my career. The most wonderful thing that has transpired is that I feel as though I am on a moving fluid career path and I follow along where the road leads.
In the past, this freedom might have frightened me. I wanted more stability. I suppose because I was young and wanted the security of a decent nest for my babies. But I am OK with this freelance career--doing what works in the moment. It fuels the adventure-junkie side of me in a way I never expected. It seems I plot my career in segments of about six months. I focus on tasks to achieve in this time period, reevaluate and begin a new segment. Such is the life as a writer/artist.
What has helped me immeasurably with being able to focus and be happy in this new fluid career (writing, teaching, painting--doing what works in the moment and leads to an income and work satisfaction) are three simple things. Three things that bring metta (Metta means happiness in Pali--an ancient Indian language spoken by The Buddha).

#1 Evening meditations (yes, every night unless I am beyond knackered!) at home, alone, in front of my fireplace.
#2 Community meditation. Whether my schedule allows me to meet once a week or once a month, simply having the outside spiritual community gives me peace, connectedness.
#3 Following my schedule. I write a weekly schedule of all I want to accomplish each and every day. It is not overwhelming. It is a balanced life schedule that gives me the time to dabble in all pursuits: career, home up keep, personal fitness and health. It seems silly, but honestly, I often quit following my schedule religiously, believing it is only a schedule. But when I do this, mindfulness slips way. It is the simplest way I have ever discovered to keep one mindful and thus metta. Just stick to the schedule, don't doubt the power of following simple daily rituals religiously.

I hope these three tips for mindfulness and metta help someone, anyone, out there feel the freedom of enjoying a fluid, evolving life without fear and doubt. Because for those of us who don't have a 9-5 institutional job to cement us, we need to let go and go with the flow...

Permission Granted to Be Happy

My girls and I in a tree.

OK, I promised my readers a little insight into my search to tidy a messy mind. Here it is. It is simple yet, far more complex than it appears. It involves only one thing.

#1 Mindfulness comes first (before all other pursuits). Another way to put it is this:

 Permission Granted to Always Be Happy No Matter What.

I had been foolishly believing that I could not allow myself the simple joy of constant happiness or "joy de vie" because I had not accomplished all of my big goals in my career and a few other personal goals. It stems from our Western philosophy all about the patriarchal puritan work ethic: happiness or "joy de vie" is a sign of weakness. In our culture, a successful person has a head-to-the-grind-stone seriousness about life. Happiness is only allowed after a serious day of unhappiness and then only with a beer in hand.

It came to my attention that I am naturally a happy "joy de vie" person. But I have been chastised for being so and thus have attempted to thwart my nature. Growing up I was chastised by parents, grandparents and teachers for my playfulness. My Driver's Ed. Teacher called it a "Don't care attitude" (hey, all I did was chuckle when I attempted a 3 point turn but ended up pulling into a drive only to pull out again and keep going the same direction). Even my own Nana (rest her soul) had a serious talk with me one day, "We were all worried you'd never grow up" (still no idea who the WE included).  My father once told me (when I was a teenager) that he and my mother were concerned as I seemed too immature, (finding happiness in exploring and inventing with my sisters on a terribly isolated acreage in the middle of the prairie. Instead, I suppose, of being a normal teenager who hides in her room and does drugs in rebellion). 

So yes, I am by nature a person with great "joy de vie." It is not a "don't care" or immature attitude it is a happy attitude that finds joy in silly mistakes, small ways to find happiness in difficult situations that would send others into depression or drug addiction perhaps.  I am blessed to say this is my nature. But years of being told I was not serious enough and too playful has had its impact. To prove myself I decided to adopt the head-to-grindstone attitude and suppress that "joy de vie" until I had some real successful results by our Patriarchal Western Culture Standards. Thus, I have driven myself to succeed in areas of my career path without allowing myself to be happy just yet (as I have not reached the great final goals). I have been denying myself the time to simply enjoy small pleasures if they don't directly feed the path to one of my goals.

But guess what? Thank the universe for kindred souls like His Holiness The Dalai Lama. I love The Dalai Lama. I see in him the youthful playfulness that I was chastised for my entire life. And he and Buddhist philosophy tell me it isn't wrong to be playful and happy at all. In fact, it is right to be happy. One doesn't have to be unhappy because they haven't reached all of their "Western Society Success Marker" goals in life. To many it would appear that I have reached these goals but my idea of success for myself is quite rigid and the bar is set high.

And so, I finally accept my true nature and allow myself "joy de vie," despite our Western Society trying to tell me: no time for celebration yet, girl! So much more work to do. Head-to-grind-stone Girl. Head-to-grind-stone! I have been very good at  putting my head to the grind stone. My passion allows me to focus on any task I set for myself. But where it has all gone wrong is denying my "joy de vie" nature, believing that it was a sign of weakness. Now I understand what other's once said was a weakness, is actually a very prized strength. 

I allow myself to reconnect with the girl I have always been by nature--a happy girl who can find joy in small things despite the difficulties that surround her in life. And the truth be told, my Nana was not a happy woman. It is sad how many souls have been crushed by our perverted sense of when one can be joyful and when one cannot.

I will be joyful despite the problems I may have in my career, relationships and else where. Joy is out there, it's rather easy to find, especially if you use your imagination. That is what kept me a happy, drug-free teenage girl. This is who I have allowed myself to be again. Thank-you to His Holiness for showing me how beautiful and strong youthful-joy can be at any age.

Sweet Georgia

The Strait of Georgia photo by Tabitha Arthur on her ipod

Passing another ferry under a rainbow.

Mist and Tabs plugged in on the ferry.

My happy Pip  (partner in exploring the ferry).

Pip on deck.

Tabs on deck.

Cabin on an island.

The lush shore line of the coastal islands.

Peter at work with his girls nearby.

Me on the windy deck.

Our new neighbor on the window sill of our hotel room at the Hotel Empress. We have the best harbor view. I love this bird. My new best friend :)

We have arrived at the Empress Hotel in downtown Victoria. A long day of traveling yesterday with only one small wrong-turn glitch.

Up and finished the hotel gym by 6:30 and soon off for a swim and then breakfast.

Before I left Kelowna, my mind was in a bad spot. It was in a horribly bad spot. I had lost all my mindfulness over the winter and had slacked off in my meditation. Thus, this trip is much needed. I need to get away from the stress of my daily routine in order to reevaluate my mind and get myself back on track for a peaceful life.

I realize, after all of the various mind training I have attempted, that one's life is never a mess--it is simply one's mind that gets messy. I have spent the last year so driven to get ahead in my career path that I lost site of everything else. Bureaucratic mistakes that can be described only as pure lunacy, have the power to enrage me lately. And I know in this life, if I allow my mind to become enraged at senseless lunacy created by fellow human beings--I will be enraged 24/7.

I am using these 5 days to focus my mind and change my life path--mindfulness being the front and center of my quests. Without this, then there really is nothing but suffering. I will write of my new path and the changes I've decided to make at the conclusion of this vacation--excitement! ;)

My daughters and I will fit in some fun and R&R while Peter conferences and then we'll have a few days as a family to beach comb and take it easy. Ghost hunting, shopping, walking tours, tea parties, swimming, Zumba are a few things on our list. I'd love to stop by a Buddhist temple too.