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The filter in which we run all our decisions thru..... the yardstick we measure our success by... the thought process that enables us to formulate responses to some of life's most difficult decisions... What does your process look like? How do you know you're making the best possible decision for you? When do you know you've said what you needed to? Where do you draw the line when ethics are on the line? Ultimately, it may determine if you can comfortably look at yourself in the mirror each day although at the end of each day, many of us answer to a higher power that keeps us on our toes. But ift helps to have a toolbox nonetheless. If the quality of your life is indeed based on the quality of your decisions, read on! Ask yourself:
- Does this decision/action fit my values? Does it reflect who I am?
- Does this empower me to be a better person? Will it energize my soul?
- Can I be proud of my actions/decisions around this subject?
So whether it's which grocery retailer to be loyal to, what car to buy, or whether we'll toss the recyclable can or bring it home to recycle, run the questions and sleep better at night.
In Reaching Our Highest Potential, http://abundantsage.blogspot.com/2007/05/reaching-our-highest-potential.html as well as Disasters Big and Small http://abundantsage.blogspot.com/2007/04/disasters-big-and-small.html - although potential is determined by the collective of all of our decisions, ultimately our goal includes accepting our behavior as we'll see it in the rearview mirror. Years from now or tomorrow when the consequences of today's decisions need answering to, we'd like to say "I made the best decision possible in that situation".
..a famous quote by the Dalai Lama, referring to the oppressor of the Tibetan people, the Chinese government. The point at hand, of course, is that our teachers often present themselves in the most unlikely forms. Sometimes it's with a gentle nudge, and then there's the club.
These teachers are everywhere in my life. And true to my nature, I am often quick to recognize the teacher, but impatient because the teachings themselves seem to elude me. There are the small ones present in my daily life that regularly challenge me. And there are the larger ones that have dogged me incessantly, such as patience, for as long as I can remember. I'm happy to say that as a group they have created a far more humble person, but I am often overwhelmed by the mob of them.
Thinking back on a life filled with adventure and challenge, I realize that many of my accomplishments came from situations I was too naive to realize I should be afraid of. Like the 10 years I spent teaching in a large, racially diverse inner city high school. If offered the job today, I would certainly recognize the enormous challenges and inherent risks and might turn down the opportunity.
Or the morning I woke up and knew it was the day I would start my meditation practice. 15 years ago, no one had told me there was a 'right' way to sit. I didn't know there were techniques to follow and protocol to observe. I simply knew it had been a longstanding goal of mine, and that I needed to change SOMETHING about my life. So I began. So what are you waiting for?
- Ignore the self talk that says you can't
- Disregard the people in your life that prevent you from doing this
- You are never too busy to dream
- You are are the right age
- You'll be educated along the way
- That one door closed so this one can open
- You are fit enough
- You are good looking enough
- You have everything you need
- There are obstacles to everything worth fighting for
- You don't need permission
- You are in the perfect place, right now, in your life!
- You need no goals, no teacher, or other method than the desire
- Leave behind those things that want to hold you back
- Put your energy where it will pay off
So it's been almost 19 years that I've been meditating, and I'm still in my closet. Literally folks. When I went searching for a place that was quiet, felt safe, had a door to hide away from the chaos of the kids and family, bingo! This was a no-brainer. And over the years, I've tried to acclimate to a 'proper' meditation spot, but nothing else fits the bill.
Now it's true that this closet may be larger than your average, but it's not huge, and I do have to work at keeping it vacuumed and de-cluttered to accommodate the peaceful environment I want. But the real point people, is that there are no rules here.
- Don't wait till you have the perfect alter or proper cushion, just begin
- There are seldom days you'll have the 'right' amount of time to devote to your practice, so decide that even 5 minutes is enough time
- If you get interrupted, so what?
- Just sit- it's simple but we try to complicate it
- If the dog or the rabbit or the baby join you, that's OK
- You don't need special clothes, a special time, the 'right' attitude, the perfect place- do it!
There's a saying "anyone can meditate in a cave". In other words, if the environment was perfect, we could all be enlightened. But this is earth and we are humans. Life isn't perfect and shit happens. That's why it's called a practice. Perfection is not the goal.
There is this strange, rather surreal feeling I get when I think of returning to the southwest that I can't really explain. It's as if the power and mysticism of the desert scares me a little bit, perhaps because I came of age there. I know it is no longer the place of my youth since so much has changed, yet when I return, I feel haunted by a feeling it will never let me go.
Few people who were raised in other climates can appreciate what a childhood in the arid expanse of West Texas instills in you. I have a great respect for the power of the sun, the sacredness of water, and the holiness of the sand. And 40 years ago, it was still a lazy and innocent place.
I was in Tuscon a few months ago, on the very outskirts of the city where the small enclaves of homes abut the mountain side. I went for a walk alone and got lost. In many ways, I was lost in the desert a lot of my youth as well. But it was scary beautiful and mighty.
Perhaps this was a lesson I just didn't learn well enough in kindergarten, but I find myself struggling now with the same concept..all these years later. So let my lessons guide you
- accept that decisions made by others that you have no control over, may dictate that you will not get your way
- don't stew and become angry, adults should be beyond temper tantrums
- stop distressing/ boring those around you with your verbosity on the subject
- take action that indicates that you've accepted reality- it will come
- acceptance will diminish the suffering
- take a vow to move onward in a skillful way
- act normal- practice makes perfect
I realize that on many days, your heart will still hold out, hoping for that miracle that will change the truth (because miracles DO happen you figure). But this only assures your suffering by clinging to hope. Then you become angry and frustrated all over again. Kind of like a hamster on his wheel..
Again, it is below zero, the bathrooms need cleaning, I'm concerned about money and the holidays, and the sun is once again not shining. I know for some, this would inspire a frenzy of busyness and planning, but this morning, all I can think of is sitting in a soft chair with a cup of coffee. I don't even drink coffee!
I've been exploring the idea of busyness lately. Not surprisingly, a timely article showed up via snail mail from the Zen Center on that very subject. And in the spirit of taming the beast, I'm attempting to not over think this, rather, just hold it in my unconscious until relevant pieces of the puzzle become available. But some initial thought has produced the following:
- in my effort to appear successful, industrious, and productive, I rush around completing many activities (lots of items checked off the to do list each day) but often feel unfulfilled
- all the busyness isn't producing a sense of accomplishment
- perhaps it is the measuring of productivity itself that is causing me consternation
So I return to the task of daily living knowing it is not only my attachment to the outcomes but my judgement of my worthiness as a person that creates my Samara. While it is my nature to quantify, measure, organize, and control my environment, surely I know that those tasks are futile. In the end, there is only the mystery of the present moment colliding with the ordinary that creates life.
