Perspective

Superman waits on the sidewalk for his mother to emerge from the bookstore

I've been looking at thousands of news photographs lately, shot by some of the industry's most notable photojournalists. What's intrigued me is the varying perspectives.  In other words, a rather mundane shot can be enhanced into something incredibly  interesting if the photographer simply changes the perspective.  I viewed some of James Nachtwey's works where he shot an average street scene through the jagged opening of blown-out wall, the rubble of the wall framing the shot, making it far more interesting.

I believe this is where photography can lend itself to life, i.e., if we work to change our perspective than we may see things in a more interesting or enlightened way.  For many, they are attached to their own perspective, seeing it as the one and only truth of the world.  If they could only release themselves from that grasp and move a few inches either way it may open up an entirely different world for them.  What would happen if perspective were applied to politics, religion, social morays, etc.?  I contend that we would have a much more inclusive, tolerant, and compassionate world.  Move a little to the right or left and see what the world looks like then.

Eyebrow-to-Eyebrow

Soon I will start doing some patient care as a paramedic again.  Its been several months since I've practiced, and I've truly missed the experience of caring for patients.  Medicine, for many years, has been a large part of my life and I'm very excited to be practicing once again.

As a Zen Buddhist I try to seek ways to better the world that we live in.  Some are drawn to activism as a tool, attempting to bring change on a larger scale such as the Occupy Movement.  Others, like myself, look to service as a skillful means of helping humanity, working "eyebrow-to-eyebrow" with one person at a time; attempting to make a difference in that person's life or even death.  

I believe that there are few greater places on earth to practice compassion than an inner-city emergency room.  The opportunities are boundless to check your 'ego at the door' and truly help those that believe that they're in need.  

Ordinary Mind Is The Way

One of the many things that Zen has taught me is that often you can place problem or a decision in your mind and then simply forget about it, walk away.  The problem will churn away in your subconscious and then out of nowhere, maybe while you are brushing your teeth one morning, the answer will become clear, appearing as if the light were suddenly turned on.

I've been given my first koan by my Zen teacher.  A koan is sort of a story, problem, maybe even a single word or a solitary sound that bumps around in your mind.  At times you dig it out, dust it off and play with it in hopes that one day it will lead to a greater understanding or awakening.  Koans cannot be solved by rational thought no matter how hard one tries.  Regardless of how intelligent your ego believes that you are, the more your mind chases the further you become from the truth.

My koan is Nansen's Ordinary Mind is the Way.  

Jōshu, a student addresses his teacher, Nansen…

Jōshu asked, "What is the Way?"

Nansen said, "Ordinary [or Everyday] Mind is the Way."

Jōshu asked, "How do I approach [or reach] it?"

Nansen said, "The more you try and get to it the further away you get."  

  Jōshu asked, "Then how do I know if it is the Way or not?"

Nansen said, "Knowing is a delusion; Not knowing is just indifference.  When you reach the true way beyond doubt it is vast and open as the sky.  How could it be a matter of affirming or negating it?"

Jōshu had some awakening.  

Yagyu's Answer

Peace & Serenity

I recently listened a group discussion that vilified "the militarism of society", which I took to mean the military, it's culture, and other supporting cast members that surround it.  I listened thoughtfully to the words and ideas that flowed from the participants, careful not to interject my own experiences of uniformed service so as not to damper or influence the conversation in any way.  The prevailing tone was that of liberation theology, the political theory which interprets traditional religious teachings in terms of a liberation from unjust economic, political, or social conditions. This is to say that the participants were highly critical of government, capitalism, corporate culture, popular news media, or pretty much anything that could be widely interpreted  as adding to the disenfranchisement of the poor and suffering. 

After the talk closed I spent a day considering what I had listened to and arrived at the conclusion that the participants lacked any real, direct experience with the military, and were simply regurgitating thoughts and ideas that they had absorbed from others who had little or no direct contact either.  I feel that in many ways I should have spoken up, that I had betrayed my own experiences through my inactions.  

The obvious rebuttal is the the story of Yagyu Munenori's life-giving sword. Yagyu was a widely renowned sword instructor to two Tokugawa shoguns during their reign over midevel Japan.  His spiritual mentor was the Zen Buddhist priest, Takuan who assisted Yagu in the realization that a sword can both take a life as well as give one.  The life-giving sword is the idea that it is best to control an opponent by the spiritual readiness to fight rather than during an actual fight where lives will be lost.  From this idea grew the saying that we utilize today, "If you have to fight, you have already lost".  

The Four Reliances

I recently had the opportunity to listen to a public talk given by a very learned man; one who has spent a great deal of his adult life in serious study on the subject of his discourse.  In listening I realized that I had many deep and  fundamental objections to what was being said, his points, most shaded in political dogma, I found distasteful. 

Clearly I had my own hard-fought experiences on the subject matter and believed that, while the speaker was well-versed, he was simply wrong on so many points.  I searched within myself and identified my attachments to my own points of view, and it was these attachment that were causing my discomfort. I suppose the take-away for me was simply the process of recognizing my own attachments and then letting them go, listening with an open mind to what was being said instead on playing "point, counter-point" in my mind. 

Tonight in my reading I ran across The Four Reliances:

Do not rely merely on the person, but on the words;

Do not rely merely on the words, but on their meaning;

Do not rely merely on the provisional meaning , but on

      the definitive meaning; and

Do not rely merely on intellectual understanding, but on the direct experience.    

Back on the Cushion

Sunset on Hayden Lake, Idaho

I'm planning on getting back on the cushion tonight, having let myself get away from my practice  over the past year or so. I'm a bit nervous but plan to attend a sitting at the the Ancient Dragon Zen Gate Soto Zen Center in Chicago.

In the past I've been astonished how easy it is to pick up my zazen practice having gone weeks or months without actively sitting.  It's almost as if you accumulate a familiraty with the practice, and it abides quietly inside of you waiting for your inevitable return.  The feeling reminds me of a faithful pet waiting patiently at the door for its owner to return home from work.  There's a bit of elated tail wagging, forgiveness, and then its as if the owner never left; comfort and peace prevail.

Off The Cushion

Sitting in Starbucks this morning I was contemplating a topic for a blog post when a guy dressed in wanna-be military garb sits down beside me and announces, "Ya know, if you were here thirty minutes ago there wasn't a black person in here".  Bingo…. you're my blog post of the day.  Are you kidding me?!  I thought guys like this only existed in the movies, and certainly not in southwest Atlanta where the populace is well-over 90% African American.

For the next twenty minutes I was treated to an unsolicited ear-full of how when the gas prices go up all of the blacks are going to leave, and how all of the kids at the school bus stops have babies in their arms.  I struggled to exfiltrate myself from the conversation but part of me, like driving past a car wreck, wanted to hear this guy's destructive, hate-filled rant. 

I contemplated loving kindness and how this guy, as misguided as I believed he was, deserved my compassion.  It's easy to love the world's down-trodden and unfortunate, but when faced with someone that is the victim of his own limited mind, the task becomes much more difficult.  How do you show compassion for someone that you find so distasteful? 

The other take away for me was the question of why do I find his rant so offensive in the first place?  Clearly I'm attached to my viewpoints, and when confronted with such a dramatically different perspective I quickly retract and begin to judge and form opinions.

Buddhism is a wonderful thing, and when sitting on a cushion its simple to follow it's tenants.  Applying the same in the reality of a crowded Starbucks is a bit more challenging.

Boundless Faith

What is the difference between having faith in something and having confidence in it?  Voltaire said, 'Faith is to believe in something which your reason tells you cannot be true; for if your reason approved of it, there could be no question of blind faith.'  On the other hand confidence is an assured expectation, not of something that cannot be touched, observed, but of what can be tested as experienced and understood personally.  This is why Buddhism shuns faith and embraces confidence.  The Buddha stated, 'Do not blindly believe what others say, even the Buddha. See for yourself what brings contentment, clarity, and peace. That is the path for you to follow.'

Theistic faith demands belief in things that cannot be known.  Direct knowledge and experience with the previously unknown now moves faith into the realm of confidence, therefor it can be said that knowledge destroys faith.  Does it work the other way around as well, can faith overcome knowledge?  Now we are in the world of miracles, the unexplained alteration of reality that runs counter to all knowledge.

Faith in my opinion, resides in the soul and is limitless while confidence emanates from the mind and is clearly bound by finite points.  Therefor one's confidence in himself or the world around him extends only so far as his personal observation and experience, while his faith appears to be endless.

Guilty Buddhism

I was challenged the other day about Buddhism's apparent failure to address the concept of guilt.  I sat with this for a while and read through what some noted scholars of Buddhism have written on the subject, and came to the conclusion that guilt is a man-made concept and not part of the inherent human condition. 

Guilt, as defined by one Buddhist scholar, Rudy Harderwijk, is "seeing or projecting one's mistakes, while not knowing what to do about them or refusing to correct them".  To paraphrase Harderwijk, Buddhism views this as a disturbing attitude, i.e. coming about from the practitioner that is not seeing the situation clearly.  Self-deprecating guilt may be seen as a complicated version of self-centeredness, which Buddhism addresses quite thoroughly.

Going back, the concept of guilt appears to be foreign to the pure human condition, having grown from it's prominent place in the Judeo/Christian tradition, e.g. the original sin.  Guilt of this type is learned, imposed by society and culture.  As noted by Harderwijk, " The Tibetans don't even have a word for it".  If this is the case guilt becomes a culturally imposed type of mental frustration, one which Buddhism teaches us to overcome through practice and seeing reality in its true form.

God Drinks Starbucks

This morning sitting on the patio at Starbucks I watched an older gentleman wander up and take a seat alone at a table not too far away from my own.  He remained there for a long time sipping his "tall" coffee and reading a Kindle.  By way of description, he was clearly in his mid-seventies, partially shaved head, tan, tall with a very lean and muscled body of an athlete.  Casually dressed in cargo shorts and a polo jersey he sat in the wooden chair  enjoying the sunshine, Oakley sunglasses on the table in front of him.

I watched for several minutes, not able to pull myself away.  I couldn't shake the feeling that I was somehow looking at myself sometime in the future.   A wave of peaceful calm washed over me, like a sudden realization; a moment of clarity, of presence… perfection.  God was speaking to me… softly but he was clearly there in this moment with me.

Soon the man confidently stood, plucked his Oakleys from the table, and turned to look directly into my eyes and smiled.  I somehow knew at that very moment that the best part of my life is still yet to come.

Not Quite Complete

Early dawn in the Middle East

Even a cursory review of recent posts to this blog reveals an author who is searching for something, a deeper meaning of those things around him, a balance within his life, centeredness.   In some respects, that is the purpose of this blog, to document my journey forward.  Over the past month or so I have sat at a crossroads in my life and have sought direction into the future.  I’ve looked inwardly as a Zen Buddhist, and remarkably have found God sitting within my silence.   I’ve re-examined those things that have been important to me, and have made peace with my faults.  It’s been an unspeakable journey of depth and grace, yet it is still not complete.

Things that I know:

God abides in each of us, speaking softly in his own time.  We just have to lessen the background noise so that we can hear him.

Deeds are far greater than words.  I hear too many people just passing gas for affect.  Mean what you say, and do it.

Reduce the noise and enjoy life as it's happening right now.  Our constant dialogue with ourselves prevents us from living in the present moment, a concept that  both the Buddha and Jesus preached.

Impatience is simply an extension of our egos. It's a manifestation of us wanting something, and wanting it right now.  Calm down, breath, and examine the emotion objectively.  It soon goes away.

We need very little;  food, air, sunshine, water, and a place to sleep.  Everything else is a bonus.  Delineate needs from wants. The difference is staggering.

Be critical of yourself, but also be gentle and forgiving.

Don’t be critical of others, but still be gentle and forgiving.

A 16-inch Brown Trout rising out of misty, serene waters to take a perfectly placed dry fly is God yelling at us to smile.

Warrior

I decided to brave the 58 degree sunny weather and go for a trail run through the Chattahoochee Hills along the river. The horse trail works its way through the forest, up and down hills, and along the banks of the serene water way.  It felt good to get out and push myself again, I haven't done so  since I hiked the Inca Trail in Peru before Christmas.

It wasn't far and it wasn't fast, but I felt my lungs expanding, my legs burning, and a gentle calm settling over my mind.  I concentrated on my breathing, letting thoughts come and go, not following any of them.  The next thing I knew I was face-planted into the dirt having tripped over a hidden root. So much for moving meditation.  Nonetheless, the fall was a not so gentle reminder to stay in the present moment, nature's (God's?) very own kyôsaku.

I got up, covered with dirt, blood, and probably a bit of horse dung and moved on; ego bruised, but that's a good thing right now.  At the end of the trail I was breathless, in pain, and covered with nature.  I felt like a warrior again.

Making Friends

During a dinner last night I was asked what it is that I'm not good at.  The first thing that sprang to mind was… being patient.  This has always been my challenge and even today I struggle greatly with it as my friends will readily attest to.   How does one learn patience?  I saw a TV commercial the other day in which the characters were watching grass grow, turtles racing, and waiting in line at the DMV in order to learn this elusive skill. Sadly there are no turtles near-by so I'm stuck with my own devices.

I was taught by my teachers to sit, which is what I've been doing lately.  What I've realized is that you can become comfortable with your impatience. In other words, just sit and watch it for a while, pay attention to how it manifests itself within you.  How does it physically feel? Where does it come from, and more importantly, where does it go when it leaves?  I've found that looking objectively at such feelings may not make them go away, but it does allow you to become friends with them, accept them, and not to be threatened by them.

Impatience, like all emotions; happiness, sadness, jealousy are just temporary and only exist in our minds.  They are not tangible, we cannot hold them, so what we choose to do with them is our decision.  I choose to sit with them and make them my friends.

Settle Into Quietness

Osorno, near Puerto Montt, Chile

When I took my Zen Buddhist vows I was given the name So Enjaku by my teacher, he pointed to a mountain; unmoving, settled sitting in quietness.  Lately I have been seeking to return to that peacefulness, to find my center and abide in stillness.  Tragically I had let it all slowly slip from me over the past two months,  allowing my ego to run amok within my life.

Now, things are quiet.  I'm able to once again sit in stillness and stare down my ego when needed, watching as if a parent were monitoring a young child playing in the park.  Ever mindful. 

I have just finished Harvey Cox's When Jesus Came To Harvard.  It turned out to be a wonderful book extrapolating moral choices from the time of the historical Jesus and applying them to the world that we share today.

In my pack I also have a copy of Lama Suyra Das' Awakening the Buddha Within; and SIT, The Zen Teachings of Master Taisen Deshimaru.  Both books I've read before, especially Surya Das' which remains a beacon in my on-going yearly pilgrimages toward greater spirituality.

Central to it all is simply sitting, quietly and peacefully, watching my thoughts as they erupt from my mind like a movie theater popcorn machine.  The breath comes and goes.  I sit and watch.

The Middle Way of Scouting

My son has recently joined the Cub Scouts, a part of the Boy Scouts of America (BSA), and his participation in this venerable organization is causing me some angst, forcing me to examine thoughts and feelings from my own Buddhist perspective. 

Firstly, BSA is an organization that does not have a stellar reputation for "inclusive" practices, having won a June 2000 Supreme Court decision allowing it, as a private organization, to exclude certain members based on non-Christian beliefs or homosexuality.  This is something that I'm not happy with and question whether I want my son being influenced by an organization that excludes members based on these criteria.

Am I attached to my beliefs, and therefore struggling with my views on the BSA?  I believe so.  Am I practicing "exclusion" by shunning an organization that does not follow MY beliefs?  Again, I think so.  Do I want my son to miss out on the myriad of "benefits" of scouting?  No.

So what I've settled on is the Middle Way, no organization is going to be perfect, or imperfect for that matter.  BSA is what it is, and my son should experience it for just that.  Critical decisions about membership and exclusion can be his to make when he's old enough to question them for himself.  Until then I will continue to examine and practice, but I'd like to hear from other Buddhists on this topic.

The Buddhist Paramedic- Deepening Compassion

A mountain-top antenna extends skyward through the clouds and mist.

I was approached on Facebook by a Zen Buddhist priest who asked me about becoming involved in Emergency Medical Services (EMS) as a future vocation.  The conversation is still ongoing but its one that I'm very excited to have.  I can think of no other job that will deepen a Buddhist practice more so than EMS; I say that with a bit of a sarcastic undertone.

If you stay in EMS long enough you encounter terms like, "burnt-out" or "jaded", and I asked myself what exactly do those mean.  After some brief consideration the answer that I arrived at is a paramedic or EMT that has dealt with the world's sick and pseudo-sick for so long that they no longer can dredge up any empathy or compassion for their patients.  To be accurate, as a good friend pointed out, this is not only limited to EMS but also extends to nurses and physicians as well. 

Enter the Buddhist.  If you want to become physically stronger you have to stress your muscles so that they grow and develop.  Likewise, if you desire (ouch!) to become more compassionate you have to place yourself in situations where this emotion is stressed and tested: EMS.  The practicing Buddhist paramedic is tested everyday with the hoards of drug-seekers, EMS abusers, the pseudo-sick, people craving attention, uncaring medical staff, and of course uncaring family members.  Its a world that over time whittles away at one's compassion, and ability or desire to emotionally connect with patients. What better place for a Buddhist to find greater empathy and compassion?

Veteren

 We get called to a "Difficulty Breathing" patient at an Atlanta bus stop, only a mile or so from where we are in the ambulance.  These calls I normally encourage the EMTs to take, as its more often than not well within their scope of practice.

When we arrive an old, apparently homeless man sits on a bench with an oxygen mask on his face.  He's being cared for by the Atlanta Fire Department that arrived moments before.  He's thin, worn, deeply tanned.  His grey hair streaks down past his shoulders, aged tattoos color his emaciated arms. He tries to speak under the clear plastic mask that is covering his nose and mouth.  "I want to go to the VA", he wheezes out.

"You're a veteran?", I asked him.  "Damn, straight", a bit of swagger now in his voice. I look at the EMT and motion to her that I'll take this call. We help him into the back of the ambulance, collecting up his used oxygen cylinder that he's been towing around the city behind him on a little aluminum dolly.  It's empty.

In the back of the ambulance I fix his breathing issue and motion to the EMT to drive to another hospital but take our time about it.  We set off.

My new friend spent several years in the post-Vietnam era Army, having served in Europe during the Cold War.  I introduced myself as a retired "Army-guy" and then the conversation began.  We talked about places that we had known, units that we served in, and friends that were all-but forgotten.  It occurred to me that my friend probably doesn't get this sort of attention very much.  Then he told me… he's been thinking about killing himself.

The conversation turned sad and grave.  I struggled with so many things that I want to say to him.  I want to help, to listen.  In the back of my mind I made a note to let the hospital staff know, maybe they can do something for him.

In the end, I ensure that he's comfortable in the ER room.  I shake his hand and give him a subtle, little salute.  He smiles and thanks me.  Later that night I watched him exit the ER, dragging his new oxygen bottle behind him into the night.  I wish him well. 

The Quickening

Michael Jordon used to speak of being "in the zone", the perfect game where superior performance came effortlessly, everything just clicked.  On occasion I have those workouts where it can only be described as magical.  Yesterday's was one of those.  A 12-mile run through the woods in the rain, only the sound of the water falling from the trees, the route partially hidden by mist up ahead.  Zen practitioners call it being "in the moment", when you're there and there's nothing else, and also "everything else".  The senses are alive as you become part of the forest, you are your environment not separate from it.  It's an experience that is difficult to put down in words, at least for me, but once you feel it you crave it's return.

Off to Turkey today; Istanbul, Antalya, and Side

Seeing

  Also from Haiti.  A woman walks along the street carrying her child closely to her.  The little feet sticking our from the blanket make me sad in a way.

In the very early hours of the morning I sat parked in an ambulance at a truck stop and starred into the window of the late-night restaurant.  I had little else to look at aside from my watch, counting the hours until I got off from work and could go home to my own bed. 

Through the window I watched a very heavy-set African American woman, dressed in the cheap, red uniform, push a broom across the floor. If I were any place else I wouldn't have given it a second thought, but here I was a captive audience and couldn't help reflect on what I was witnessing.  Dozens of questions flashed through my mind as I watched the thirty-something woman go about her manual tasks.  Was this where she envisioned fifteen years ago that her life would end up?  What does she dream of, aspire to, or has she resigned her life to where she is now? I couldn't help myself and tried to recreate her life in my mind, I wanted to project myself into her reality.  What were her disappointments, her victories?  What motivates her?  Where, if at all, would she go back and change her life.  Above all, was she happy? The questions kept coming and coming as I watched her through the grimy window.

I suppose my lesson was that everyone has a story, a life, a past, and a present.  I for one am guilty of going through my days at times oblivious to those around me.  I see people but I truly do not "see' them; the man crossing the street with his young son or the woman pushing the broom late at night.  I suppose in many ways this is why I like 911 so much.  For a brief moment in time it's just me in the back of the ambulance with another person, a chance to get to know someone on a deeper more compassionate level, other than just simply seeing them.     

Happines Has Many Forms

What makes people angry?  Lately I've encountered more than my monthly quota of angry people, and have had to endure their rants and raves about everyone in their life that has caused them grief. I listen to stories of liars, cheats, idiots, and thieves as the tellers recount their woes, blaming the world for all of the ills that have effected them.  I attempt to offer counsel, but it's evident that the grieved do not want it.  Instead they're happy to wallow in their own mud hole, as if it gives them a raison d'être; their life is defined by their own anger, they don't seek nor even desire peace.

Happiness, it seems, comes in many forms.  Maybe to some, attention seeking through anger is their form of true happiness, giving them the peace of being surrounded by consoling and attentive "friends". They reach out with their anger like a fisherman casts a line hoping that someone will pay attention and offer the attention that they are looking for. I can't do it. I can't find the compassion within me yet to allow myself to strike at the line and be netted into their world of drama. Instead I ignore, telling myself that this is truly what they need, my inattention is therapeutic for them. That, it appears, is the lie that I tell myself.