Tag: practice

Chef

by LuckyPilgrim, posted in mindfulness, Uncategorized

I’ve learned a lot from watching cooking shows. More than simply how to cook, that is. There are so many reasons I’m drawn to them. I enjoy watching people use their hands. Most especially to create or build or fix or heal. All four of which are a part of preparing a good meal.

Great chefs understand that cooking is soul work. Sure, there are some ornery bastards. Some colossal egos. Tempers flare. I’ve never known any creative area where these issues didn’t arise. More often, what amazes me about the community of chefs is the way they collaborate. And while they may be highly critical, most also seem willing to submit their own cooking to the same scrutiny.

Cooking is hard work; busy, relentless, and consuming. You have to maintain your health, keep your energy levels high, and commit your whole self to the process.

Master chefs have a devotion to growth, learning, experimentation, and change. They fail and head right back to the pantry. It seems that each of them had a devastating setback in their lives; a fire, cancer, bankruptcy, a second fire; and yet, they persist. In fact, most chefs mark these traumatic events, that might have taken the heart of others, as a catalyst for transformation. You could say that they discovered their unique genius only after, or because of, a personal catastrophe.

Lately, an acute attention and appreciation for the local environment play a key role in fine cuisine. I deeply admire the move to incorporate not only local farms and produce, but to explore and forage, with respect and restraint, our seas, meadows, and forests. The artistry with which they incorporate these natural elements is, often times, astonishing. It also strikes me as ancient and witchy.

Cooking is an intriguing mix of science, art, skill, and attention. An alchemy of the senses. But, a crucial, though often unnamed component of cooking is time. Time and I are often at odds. Usually this is when I am ruminating on the past, or anxious about the future, or freaking out because it is passing so doggone quickly. Never is this more apparent than when I try to make an egg. I know first hand why this is the magical test of most chefs. You have to have ALLLLL your shit together to prepare a proper egg. And then it is a focused dance for the following three minutes or so. Artists create egg dishes with effortless elegance and keep a tidy kitchen, to boot. Not so in my kitchen.

The Zen Buddhist nun, Jeong Kwan, uses time expertly in preparing her temple food. Kimchi is created and harvested precisely when most nutritious and delicious. She plans and prepares healing vegan meals according to the seasons and cycles of her temple surroundings.  She then presents them with exquisite artistry.  We could all learn from her generous, humble offering.

In one way or another, I see great chefs as examples of mindful living. They are beholden to the gifts bestowed in their home place and as interpreted through the work of their senses, imagination, and hands. This is a calling. A calling that all of us have the opportunity to answer and practice on a daily basis. We can demonstrate our love for others and this beautiful, bountiful world by cooking healthy, tasty, well planned and attentively prepared food.

Chef
One of my favorite chefs as photographed by: John Hardwick

Attention

by LuckyPilgrim, posted in mindfulness, Self Development
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Photo by: MagsBlackDetroit

“I have wonderful news! … This is wonderful news you want to hear,…You are going to live a good and long life filled with great and terrible moments that you cannot even imagine yet!”

Anybody who has read, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green probably recognized this quote. IMHO, The Fault in our Stars is an exquisite book everyone should read. Hopefully, before you see the movie. Although I love movies, books are always better. You get to dive deeper. You get to live inside the characters. Reading calls out a different form of attention than watching. And, attention is my theme for today.

Although I will not ask you to “Pay Attention.” I never liked that phrase. Probably because of the word pay. I don’t like to pay for things. Not because I am cheap, at least I hope not, but because of the obligation behind it.

So instead I will ask you, as a favor, to please, give me the kindness of your attention. For truly, there is no greater act of generosity you can do than offer your full attention to someone.

As I wrote at the beginning, you are going to live a long life, with great and terrible moments…”What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” The poet Mary Oliver, another great writer, asks this question in one of her poems. And she answers her own question in another poem. She says, “Instructions for living a life: pay attention, be astonished, tell about it.”  

John Green  would agree with Mary Oliver’s instructions for living a life. In a different passage from The Fault in Our Stars, he writes, “I believe the universe wants to be noticed. I think the universe is improbably biased toward the consciousness, that it rewards intelligence in part because the universe enjoys its elegance being observed.” He tells us that the real heroes are the people who notice things.

The Buddhist philosophy is founded on mindfulness. The Dalai Lama describes mindfulness as kind, loving awareness or attention without judgement. It isn’t easy. Especially now when we have so many things to keep us distracted. Which is why we have to practice it. Practice mindfulness. Practice being attentive and letting go of judgement and our need to make something good or bad.

There are few absolutes in life, few things you can be certain about but I know this to be true in my heart, whatever you give your attention to will be transformed by it, will grow from it. And YOU will grow from it. If I asked you to become aware of your breathing…without asking you to change it,  just by bringing your awareness to the breath, it will deepen. The same can be said of how you sit, or how you listen, or look…once you give your attention to that moment you will see that you actually need to try harder NOT to make it better. This is the heart of meditation. Mary Oliver again says, “I do not know how to pray, I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to stroll through the fields.”

So whatever you want to do with your one wild and precious life, whatever that is, it will be richer if you give it, or practicing giving it, your full attention.

St. Thomas said, “The reward for patience… is more patience.” The same is true of attention. The more you practice attention, shifting your awareness, the more you are able to practice it. And how do you do that? Set the goal or intention each day that you will give attention to some area of your life. Something small. Something near you. Maybe you will give attention to how you breathe, or what makes you laugh, or the words you say, or perhaps you will do your best to look at the sky and feel the sun on your face.

Because life is full of both great and terrible moments, there will be many times in your life practicing attention will demand courage. But, I still believe, with all the love in my heart, that the mind is powerful and the focal point of our thoughts can be transformed. In the same way energy from the sun transforms life, or the pull of the moon affects the tides, consciousness radiates.

You will find the more you practice attention, the more you appreciate what is given you, now, in this moment. All that you need is here.  Truly, what better time to observe the universe’s elegance than right now?

The Gospel of St Thomas tells us Jesus said that the kingdom of heaven is spread on the Earth but men do not see it. Be the hero or heroine of your own life. See the kingdom of heaven spread before you. Notice the beauty and elegance of the universe in the moments you are given, offer your attention to your, “One wild and precious life.”

 

Matters

by LuckyPilgrim, posted in Uncategorized
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Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God. ~Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

In the end, just three things matter:
How well we lived
How well we loved
How well we learned to let go
~Jack Kornfield

Most of what truly matters in life surpasses both my understanding and ability to put into words. Nevertheless, I will try.

Let me start simply by clarifying that when I write of matters I mean the verb; to be of importance or significance. I am also going to try to step away from politics, although they certainly are of significance. And, I acknowledge it is the circumstances of my privileged birth that even allows me to look at other things that matter. This would be a very different post if I were born poor and black and living in say, Flint, Michigan.

So, of course, there are crucial matters for our body’s survival: clear air, clean water, pure lands to grow nourishing food and provide warmth and shelter.

There are matters vital for the mind to endure. Sure, there are! Everyone needs a sense of safety, a feeling of belonging, the ability to perceive and learn, a moral code, an absence of pain, love.

Human rights, the rights of the planet and all its incredible, diverse, interconnected beings matter. Beyond reckoning.

But once our basic needs are met, what matters then?

I confess, I have never been a traditional matterer. By that I mean, appearances aren’t a big deal with me. My own or anyone else’s. I care there be evidence of grooming effort. Beyond that, express yourself, or not, by your own funky fresh style. It matters, not.

Money never really mattered all that much either. Although I am wise enough to know that this is  because I have always had enough, even in the skimpy days. And that is a blessing.

It doesn’t matter if your house is clean or messy but how you walk the Earth. The impact you leave. Not measured by others. But by that still, small voice inside.

Quieting every other noise and listening for that voice, that awareness, that has always been with you throughout your many selves and all the things that mattered to them, that is what matters. That voice will gently coax away your vanity. That silent witness will point you toward grace and simplicity and balance. That true self will endlessly instruct you in gratitude for what is given. That soundless messenger knows your particular and perhaps “peculiar travel instructions.” Breathe. Practice. Listen with all your senses. Whenever you can.  This, I believe, is what matters.

 

 

Note

by LuckyPilgrim, posted in Uncategorized

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…to my younger self

Your life will turn out nothing like you planned. Yet it will be grander than you ever imagined. You will love well and be loved better.

It is true that everything your heart desires lies on the other side of fear. Inside that fear is lost power you will reclaim when you face it, beautiful and brave. Make it so.

Don’t give a tiny rat’s behind what anyone else thinks or says about you. It is wasted time and energy on something you cannot control.

I forgive you for everything. Even the stuff you never told anyone but the dark.

Trust your guts! Nurture your instincts. They will save you from some very sketchy situations..

Study Kung Fu instead of learning to smoke. This is a no brainer.

Listen.

The greatest love of your life will come as a total surprise. She will be your best friend and greatest teacher. Yes, that is right, she, not he. You are queer. But then, if you listened to your guts, you knew that.

I know you worry about putting your parents through a spiritual crisis by coming out. Come out anyway. They survive. Loving you for your entire self, activates them to become warriors for peace, justice, and diversity. The pain from which you all emerge transforms into meaningful work, lasting friendships, and the spreading of light to countless other families.

The most profound moments of your life will unfold in solitude.

You are worthy. Don’t overcompensate. Your faults and frailties are no worse than anyone else’s. Do your best to replace the words “I’m sorry…” with “Thank you for…”  wherever and whenever you can remember.

Keep writing. Burn what doesn’t work. Burn what does. It is the process that matters.

Travel.

Whatever worries or expectations you have, let them go. You will live the most ridiculously lucky, rich life full of love and laughter and pleasures and meaningful work and stories and poems and music and good souls. While I am age 51 writing this to you, which probably seems ancient to you, I hope I am only at the midpoint of this existence. But, even if today is our last, we can drop this body, release this awareness, and know we were blessed.

Practice

by LuckyPilgrim, posted in Uncategorized

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Technically, I am not a Buddhist. But I like a lot of their teachings. I share the Dali Lama’s core belief that, “Loving Kindness is my Religion.” However, I am profoundly human in my ability to live out that belief. That’s OK. The point is to practice. And I do. Sometimes more adeptly. Mostly, like a beginner.

Good Buddhists follow the Noble Eightfold Path. I think it is an excellent road map but like most religious texts composed long ago, not very practical for today unless you develop a personal interpretation. The Noble Eightfold Path is a sort of less bossy, more complex, Ten Commandments. Except that the Eightfold Path isn’t rules per say. More like habits or skills you practice. Like snowboarding or playing the tuba.

Of the Eight Right things to do on the Noble Path the one that presents the biggest daily challenge for me is Right Speech. We have a history, Right Speech and me. Issues!  I’m a blabber. A bean spiller extraordinaire! What’s more, I tend to embellish, hyperbolize, and add a spicy dash of fiction to my facts.

When teachers talk to parents about kids who are dishonest, we say, “They tell stories.” It’s gentle. “Suzy likes to tell stories.” Instead of, “Suzy will, balls out, lie to your face.” Like Suzy, I am a storyteller. Also a Ballsy liar on occasion. The things that have fallen from my mouth have often returned to drown me in an ocean of shame. They cost. Dearly. And so, I practice Right Speech.

Like any novice, I over compensate. For a long time I felt right speech meant I had to lay bare every bitter truth I encountered. Not realizing that the truth is a tangled mess of Christmas lights.  I over share. Over communicate. Natter. Confess. Enough, you get the picture.

So now, Right Speech is about practicing silence. Listening. Asking myself some hard questions before I speak, type, or text.

Questions like:

  • Why do I want to say this?
  • Will this cause harm to others or myself?
  • How can I say this best?
  • Is this the right time?

As you may have guessed, I only intentionally practice this once or twice a day. And mostly with others I know will be forgiving and patient toward my awkward attempts. The pauses alone are maddening. The false starts and jumbled metaphors, forget about it. In this instance, practice will never make perfect. I’m no monk. But the intention keeps me moving down the path, in my own time, with my own stumbling swagger.