Discursive Thought (2009)

When the Buddha taught disciples how to meditate - there was a goal in mind (no pun intended.) It was not, as our modern society now pitches things, to enhance our sense of self. Meditation is actually a way to siphon forward the truth of "no self"... but that is a deeper topic than I am able or qualified to discuss here.

I do ~however~ wish to offer a little blog post, or an idea of a post, on a modern understanding of discursive thought.

Anybody been on Facebook lately? Or Twitter?

As I was driving home from temple this morning... I found my mind in a very entertaining space. My mind was "tweeting". Seriously. My thoughts were arising in the form of tweets. Nice little 140 character or less statements. Just arising.

I almost laughed out loud when I saw my "updates" scrolling by in the uncanny ability the mind has to place images in your head.

If you think about it... "imaging" seems like it should happening with the eyes. But my eyes were observing the road. I was driving by the Polo fields on Hughes road, knowing the people setting up for today's Polo match were probably oblivious to the fact there is a tree only about 100 yards away from them that is freshly decorated in memory of a young man who died on this very road last week...

Those are the visual cues that my brain is processing...

Then there is the radio. I was dialing away from every station that is trying to force feed me Lady Gaga at 6:00 AM. (No thanks, we had her for breakfast lunch and dinner yesterday... perhaps move her out of heavy rotation for a month??? PLEASE.) And so my ears are indexing as the radio scans my options... country ~next~, NPR ~next~, Christian Rock ~next~, something polka-related *SIGH*, back to Ms. Gaga.

Okay so the eyes are processing visuals, the ears are assessing music, the mind is composing Tweets. What else is happening?

Well there is temperature assessment going on. It is cool this morning so I have the windows cracked, but I am fidgeting with the thermostat dials to place them in that perfect position on the dash board where the vents "warm" the incoming air but do not actually "heat" it. So there is that whole routine occurring too.

--My body is almost as busy as my MIND apparently----

It is the goal of meditation to see the mind offering up discursive thought, but not get trapped by "following the thoughts" if you can understand that. It is to say... let the thought arise [thought bubble: "I'm hungry"] and resist what that thought USUALLY would begin as a discursive conversation in your head. ["I'm hungry"///"Yeah, I should stop to eat. Hmmmm what's open? McDonald's is open. Oh but I just don't want a McMuffin. They make me feel fat. I am getting a bit of a belly. I need to find a gym. Wasn't there a gym near the metro station. Why was I on the metro? Oh yeah heading to work. I noticed on the schedule I work an extra day next week? Oh man I have to work Tuesday til 6:30. I wonder if that will make me late for the finance meeting at temple..."]

You get the drift right? We have a thought ("I am hungry") and it leads us down this free association path where we end up at work (on Tuesday nonetheless) in our mind. Meanwhile... ~who~ is driving the car on this Sunday morning? The same mind that is figeting with the radio, judging the proximity of the Polo fields to the car crash site and critically assessing all the music rolling by on the station scan. As well as climate control.

Our minds are BUSY folks. Just sit and listen if you can. You will be amazed in a quiet room, how much more pronounced the conversation in your head becomes. If there is silence... our mind will fill it up. And ~HOW~.

So I was really enjoying the fact that my mind seemed to be Tweeting thoughts this morning. Like maybe it would be less noticeable how absurd the thoughts were if they were in a palatable format. It was as if my wall had not been updated (There is that BLANK box in my mind saying "What are you doing?") So TWEET... my brain would compose an update. ["Chris is driving by the Polo fields near Malik's tree." ~UPDATE / "Chris is noticing the over-turned turtle by the road" UPDATE / Chris is wondering if Lady Gaga is going for World Domination" UPDATE...]

And then the comments start being tacked on to each update. And then the red box in the lower corner of my mind tells me to go back and check in on that thought that I had, and how many have commented on it, but also remember to add this friend, check out this cause, feed this barn yard animal... YOU KNOW WHAT I AM SAYING? Facebook is like an external display of my inner CRAZY!

And it is so addictive. Even if the information is all random and unconnected... it is awesome to simply pop onto Facebook and become a voyeuristic participant in your middle school science lab partner's family life. Or whoever it is that has posted in the recent past. Or look for new friends from 25 years ago. Or the person you met at a cocktail party last week. There is unlimited potential for close proximity of otherwise unrelated pieces of your life!

So I just really had this idea about relaying meditation and discursive thought to Facebook and Twitter. The mind is a constant source of "tweets". Random information streaming through your consciousness -- which sometimes leads you to follow external links and head down the rabbit hole of endless possibilities and you end up somewhere interesting (or weird, or gross, or exciting, or educational or...)

Life is full of opportunities to manifest. We seem to be taking an almost cellular habit of ancient truth (I mean - your cells and organs and muscles must be tweeting all the time - telling or organs when they need nutrients, movement, stillness, oxygen, water, Big Macs... whatever). And as our minds create more and more reality every year- the internal thought process is manifesting as careers and hobbies and "social sites" where we can log on and participate in other people externalizing their little internal thought bubbles.

I personally LOVE me some Facebook. LOVE it. It is a cross-section of my life I never envisioned having. Where my family, friends, co-workers, current and ex relationships, great friends and familiar strangers... all aspects of life melt into one stream of consciousness with images, sounds, words, information, silliness, sadness... EVERYTHING. It is just moving all the time. And unlike my internal MEMORY function (which is fading daily)... I can scroll back through Facebook's timeline (at least a little of the daily feeds) and catch back up on my social sites and sort of see what I missed.

So today - I encourage you to unplug for a few hours. Go sit quietly in a place you can meditate. You don't need a fancy posture or new age ambiance, you can sit in a love seat or swing out in the hammock. But quiet your mind. That is to say do not TRY to focus it on one particular subject, or solving a problem or planning a plan-able thing. Instead relax and watch it Tweet... and just let those tweets scroll by. Don't click on them or comment. No forwarding. No replying. Just see how "busy" the mind is when you are trying to relax.

Our problem nowadays is that we often try to respond to every though rather than just let the feed keep streaming and "notice" without having to respond and react to everything.

Get a sense of your mind today. It is a good way to know how "dug into" discursive and neurotic tendencies we are. It takes a while to slow that habit down... but step one is being able to notice how overly multi-tasked and busy our thought making process is. Can we sit and be PRESENT? Or are we already working on Tuesday while driving by Sunday's Polo Fields?

Enjoy the process. And of course, after you've done it... Tweet about it so the rest of us can play along!

Peace Ya'll. Now I gotta go see some women about a horse. Tell me THAT ain't kicking up a $hit storm of tweets in my head!

For Malik (1989-2009)

I had a cornucopia of blog topics in mind this weekend, what with reuniting in Baltimore among friends and "new friends" arising from connections made decades ago. There were intersections that I wanted to explore through prose that would encapsulate the karmic weave of how four people on this planet are in their lives together despite hardship, betrayal of trust and perseverance. But it will have to wait if it is to happen.

There were iconic moments this week that slipped up through life's surface and begged to be typed about... images I was savoring so that I might do my best to interpret them here for you.

So much time spent on the sidelines of life - watching a mighty game unfold and preparing a play by play for you, dear readers.

But it all stopped ticking on Sunday.

At an early hour... a young man, who I knew through name only - because I love his mothers dearly - it turns out this young driver found tragedy in a moment where machine and tree and human fragility combined too quickly.

I have one image seared into my memory from this weekend now. It is a personal moment between a mother and a tree -- an image I chanced upon as only these times can create. A mother who did not birth - or invest genetics into her children - but I have a feeling raised them for many years with the flaming hot maternal instincts that women get when they are responsible for loved ones and young.

How to even recap the emotions of the news, the family walking into temple, the tear filled room of monks and nuns and lay community... the first chanted intonation that was so hard and uncooperative through a throat that wants to sob and scream injustice.

Hugs and sniffles, sobs and laughter - all those elements of the sorrow of human truth. When death of the worst kind occurs... the premature, shocking and all too familiar vehicular kind... the kind that leaves siblings widowed as it were - and deprives them of strong shoulders to lean on in tough times.

This is on of those faith rattling moments when you realize that the stability and beauty of dharma seems almost cold in the face of our American tradition of gnashing and wailing when we feel burned or rubbed by life.

But when I see these two nuns enter a room, life partners in ways that no marriage or love relationship can compare to - when I see them sit in a sea of robes that supports them while they bear the unbearable... I know my spiritual support net is tightly woven.

I know that the Lama has given us a gift in the P'howa teachings that we can only pay lip service our understanding in these tragic incidents that unfold. We do not know the chaos of being confused and pryed from our bodies - only to behold the one countenance that we can rely on to endure this darkness and lead us safely onward.

Given tears and emotions and addictions - I know I might turn away in fear and run for familiar unreachable spaces in my moments of loss... but my calm supportive Sangha will bear out the chants of stability... forego the emotional upheaval... and invoke the gracious Lama that will guide me to the next place.

Dearest friends and especially you loving mothers and sister of Malik... I wish you such peace despite this horrible scar on your life. I wish you all the merit generated by a room full of prayers that his memory gathered. And I wish you the bliss of knowing that relationship again in its next turn... that you are bound by your karma and your life purpose and your choices are serving him well. And you will meet again...

Be at peace. Always. And I am so very sorry for your loss.

With love,
Bowdawg.

A Digital Photo of a Tibetan Buddhist Altar

Not everyone in America (or likely any Judaeo-Christian rooted culture) perhaps understand the purpose of having an altar in one's home.

Sadly there are mis-perceptions about why-one-has, and what-one-does-with an altar and the objects upon it.

This spiritual item is not used to worship statues, idolize inanimate objects, or even to honor anything separate from what we each truly are.

In the same way that you sit in your doctor's office... staring at the fleshy, muscular, bony chart that looks nothing like you in appearance, but you understand as a map to your physical inner workings... That is how we think of altars as practitioners. They are a "map" if you will... a guide to symbolize the truth of our spiritual constituents.

~Sure~... you are flesh and bone, blood and fluids, organs and parts and pieces. But in the same way that you cannot point out any "piece" of me and say "This hand is Chris", or "This spine is Chris" and itemizing the entire human body I "reside" in- no single organ or part is truly inherently "Chris". All together when someone (or I) see this particular combination of parts and personality traits... we identify that as "Chris." But the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

With an altar the idea is SO MUCH MORE SUBTLE. We see images of Buddhas, Thangkas (the paintings), we see images of our teachers from this life, we see offerings that are gorgeous and fragrant and delight the senses, we see the texts and the actual recorded words of the lineage of Buddhas. These are unbroken chains of truth that you can see with your fleshy eye organs. These teachings (if you connect with an unbroken lineage) are like your family tree... they trace your genealogy (spiritually) back to the unbroken root of your accomplishment.

In the same way that I could "claim" to be a descendant of ANYBODY in the flesh... and I could TRULY believe it with all my heart (whether I was trying to deceive people or I was just really out to lunch) - unless you could trace it back - you would have to just BELIEVE on blind faith. But if I handed you my family documents showing that this one begot this one, and this one begot this one... etc., etc. - then we are having a VERY different conversation!

How much more confidence would you have? Even if people falsely accused me of a gazillion bizarre things - the proof is right there in your midst... the traceable lineage. The PROOF in the pudding. Even if people want to yell, scream and staple that person to a tree... that does not change the authenticity that they hold.

So in that way our altar is our reminder... the trail of confidence you can have that says:

Jetsunma Ahkon Lhamo was enthroned by His Holiness Penor Rinpoche

His Holiness Penor Rinpoche was enthroned by Thubten Chökyi Dawa

and repeat this lineage of enthronement through the list of Throneholders back to the primordial Buddha.

Thubten Chökyi Dawa

Rigdzin Palchen Düpa (Second Pema Norbu)

Dhongag Chökyi Nyima

Pema Dhongag Tendzin

Gyurme Nyedon Tenzin

Drenchog Karma Lhawang

Karma Chöpbel Zangpo

Drubwang Pema Norbu

Pema Lhundrub Gyatso

Rigdzin Kunzang Sherab

Khechog Karma Chagme

Tertöton Migyur Dorjé

Tulku Chönyi Gyatso

Drubwang Tonpa Sengge

Tulku Tashi Gyatso

Chöjé Bodhi Singha

Tsenchen Tayabenza

Trulshig Tayakeuri

Jangsem Kunga Nyima

Trubthob Thangthong Gyalpo

Gyudzin Sönam Chogzang

Kunpang Dönyöd Gyaltsen

Trulku Rigdzin Chenpo

Tertön Zangpo Drakpa

Lhase Mutri Tsenpo

Nanam Dorjé Dudgom

Khandro Yeshé Tsogyal

Gelong Namkhai Nyingpo

Pema Junge (Padma Sambhava)

Yeshe Do

Lopön Shiri Singha

Jampel Shenyen

Lopön Garab Dorje

Thugjé Chenpo Chenresig (Avalokitesvara)

Dorje Sempa (Varja Sattva)

Durgpa Dorjé Changchen (Vajradhara)

Chöku Kutuzangpo (Dharmakaya Samantabhadra)

And Samantabhadra is considered the primordial Buddha at the core of our refuge lineage - your essence that resides inside this case of flesh and bones but is not that solid or material. And therefore an altar reminds us not to fall into the trap of believing the solidity of the phenomena that appears as flesh and bones and experience - when in essence we are something much more subtle.

So a simple photo of my teacher's altar inspired my post today. In this digital age where a Tibetan Buddhist altar is seeping into American gene pools and presenting us this FANTASTIC opportunity to awaken to the enlightened truth... that is what I wished to share with you today.

I understand that a blog post about bizarre stories and anecdotes about how I pooped myself on the Metro would be more entertaining... but sometimes when you are REALLY CRAVING chocolate cake, you still need to have some healthy vegetables instead! (Awwwwww MOM!!)

[And NO you silly readers... I did not poop myself on the Metro! Geez... people.

I was nowhere near the Metro when it happened. ] : )

Peace Ya'll

Hurricanes - Inside and Out.

I swear people - if daydreams translated to dollars I'd be buying you all beach front property! Am having extensive fantasies lately about running holistic workshops (not in the sense of granola-tree-hugging holistic concepts, more like... wake up and embrace the life you have NOW as opposed to the life you keep waiting for.)

This would be a workshop for me to experience as much as showing people that I have not yet accomplished it, but believe it to be possible. I have a sense I am not alone.

Atira and I were chatting today about the weird spectrum of "choices" that life presents. And the way that MOST of us have stifled that little dreamer inside ourselves by gravitating towards "safe" and "dependable" income generating lives.

I was really happy at different points in life. You know how strange it seems that there are so many "evolutions" to your decades? Once I was a kid in Athens commuting to Atlanta to work every week - running home on the weekends to sort my post collegiate disasters.

Then I was a gay kid running away from Atlanta to finally "come out" without the false expectations of my family or history shaping my personality and comfort level any more.

Then I was an assistant to a big shot at the largest off Wall Street Mutual Fund company - supporting his team as I clumsily fell in love and found my spiritual path (which hardly sought success in the market.)

Then I was a neo-hippie living for a year and a half "off the grid" and working with the earth and sustainable architecture - while diving into the heart of my teacher's deepest teachings on mysticism.

Well, then came re-assimilating to "civilization" in New Age freakazoid style in Sedona - working for a "past celebrity" who still thought himself an A-lister... breaking up with John but sharing a home for 3 years... dating and slutting myself up around AZ... getting into the prime of physical condition for this life for me, while slacking in the spiritual arena.

Then there was the collapse of the faux A-lister's empire and the dive into the heart of Katrina aftermath for 4 months of Animal Rescue - Where my life saw the intersection of compassion. Where T Boone Pickens and Michael Mountain combined into heartbreaking life stories.

Next chapter: The kindest employers I have ever known and the most fun job ever invented at TDB in uptown Sedona... good life, good friends, good times.

Then the night I drove to the desert to pick up he who would later be known as "the intruder" and drove his sorry ass into the Red Rocks where he raped a spiritual community.

Then there was the life changing night in Oklahoma City - the evolution of my poetic and ASL driven creativity for the next year - and the finale Cali trip and weekly shenanigans with the closest posse of friends I'd had since UGA.

The East Coast beckoned and I dropped everything to come back and start anew... but I have struggled and scraped by to keep my chin above water for the past year. A real wake up call on impermanence.

And now I sit here... blank. Somewhat cleansed and somewhat confused... thinking NOW. NOW. NOW. It is time to do the authentic. Cast off the safe path and dive headlong down the rabbit hole I have evaded for over ten years.

But it scares me. I am afraid of success. At anything. I have always felt worst when things went well - like the karmic comfort of each time my family fell apart, restructured - moved to a new domicile and started over - like that somehow defined the real me. Chaos kid. The kid who had to shrink away, be small... not rock the boat. That kid has died in me and it is not a sad thing. He was tired of being afraid because he was so god-damned different that what he saw his family and friends offering as normal - seemed like a foreign currency in his bank.

I love them and I love what I got to see and do a lot of the time I spent growing up as a shadow of the Hodgson-Williams-Bond-Dekle-Santoro-Sullivan-Smith-Wojo clan. But some day you have to look around - see that you are approaching 40 at the speed of light and that you will NEVER be the person that they had hoped for. And embrace that with some honesty. And sadness.

I suck at the pragmatic, well thought out, safe and simple stuff. I can't keep a car tuned up, keep a house clean or even manage check book with any finesse.

I am sloppy, tardy, and unreliable on things related to completion and accuracy.

But I'll be damned if I know what else to do. I love hard and fall fast. I jump in too soon and stay too long. I leap before I have learned about the target - and I speak without thinking things all the way through... but I do LOVE. And unfortunately... I still hate.

I love sooooooo much that it can get embarrassing. It can get stalker-ish. I still feel incredible love for people that left tread marks on my heart from stomping so hard. I ain't no saint and I certainly screwed over more than a few innocent (or, well, "unknowing") bystanders in my climb for self-approval. But that climb must end.

At the end of the day when you are well rested and half a cocktail into a blogging state of mind- sometimes you just want to unleash the hurricane. Be free of all the B.S. that you have to shovel through on so many days of your life. Watch how a disaster gets people REAL CLEAR on their priorities... but alas... it also breaks hearts.

Some days you just want to create... give birth - watch it grow and stumble and regain ground and grow up and make you proud. Is that parenting? Is that art? Is it just human nature? Hell - if I could answer that you would not be reading my blog, you'd be worshipping my a$$. But I have no answers. I have only method that works for others. And I try to apply that method every day. And be honest about how slow and tedious it is to change from a self centered neophyte... to a budding human, who can look beyond his own effed up little comfort zone... and say: "How can I help YOU?"

I aspire to do that soon. I hope you are one of the ones I can inspire. Or at the very least... offer a decent cup of coffee. And a warm smile. : )

Peace ya'll.