20 days of Meditation: It was what it was.

You can watch people’s hair grow! You forget your passwords. But before I try to tell about my experience I need first to tell you, it will nothing like yours or mine... my next time. It all depends on the day, your karma, your body and your own life experiences. If I do it again, and yes, I will… it will be totally different, and yet, not unfamiliar. Now planning on a 30-day in the next two years(came sooner, April 2016!). I went eager hoping to deepen my practice, and maybe experience the jaunas while pulling up deeper hidden sankaras. I had just heard my sister committed suicide and watched a friend who was dying in hospice of hepatitis B cancer pass with little wisdom or insight the week before. All of this was unexpected, but that it with most of life. A 20-day Vipassana meditation is only old students, so it is very quiet, and nice with responsible meditators cleaning up the dorms daily with no laziness one normally sees with new students. Basically, for those unfamiliar, you are training the mind to accept that all life is impermanent, starting with sensations where all misery originates. I started in, able to meditate most of the day wherever we wanted, except the evening sits from 6-9 pm which were held in dhamma hall which included a detailed one hour talk about what one is doing. Starting with 7 days of anapana, watching the feeling of the breath just at the entrance of the nose in an effort to make the mind concentrated. This gives one the unique ability to pull up deeper previous hidden sankaras, when you do start scanning Day 8. I used only the dhamma hall and the pagoda cells alternating sometimes with a walk outside if the mind was hooked on something. One issue that kept reappearing in my head was something when I returned never materialized, so I was making misery unfounded. I rarely found it to have traumatic hooks on things, but more like an endless loop playing in my head that I could not seem to drop. Although Geonka, said to disregard dreams as subconscious helplessness,  Day 9 night dreams to me exhibited an issue, I thought mentally was gone, but obviously the body held a different idea. It woke me up, I replayed the whole dream and it all fell into place and I went to my pagoda cell early that morning, awake with happy release. The brain will have learned that this process is good for you and then just pulls to do it more. 

I had another dream that seemed to be a self-guided warning that my anger will kill me if continued. Scary in dream form, but once awake I easily analyzed it. Generally, with my knee pain my samadi was not as usual, but with learned equanimity, I felt no remorse at where I was at any time. This was really a first real sign of being equanimous, where I could later tell looking back why under pain I did not want to run away, instead solve the problem as best as I could at that given moment, so I could continue moving part by part observing sensations. My body/mind knew wisdom could be found there, which also pulls you back to sit more. I just adjusted my sitting posture, trying kneeling, moving my right leg higher to undo the cause of years of sitting improperly and knowing chairs are available, if it was worse than imagined. At no point was masochism involved in this wisdom. The comparing mind was never involved, one took things as they are which is pretty much how one should treat life. As far as eating, one eats less and less because it only affects the quality of meditation, and you are way past the idea with food as an answer to pleasure if you are dealing with feeling the digestion of each meal, daily. Sleep too, begins to be less and you don’t feel the need to run to bed to escape what you doing with mind and body. In the whole 20 days, I only missed three hours of meditation because of a little more sleep or walking to break a thought pattern, making to sit down at the latest 4:30 am until 9pm, with the normal breaks. And the bonus of seeing your own death as a reality that you can't run away from. I recommend highly to take a 10-day to see all the self-created dukkha.

You are not going anywhere

Life showed up at the door with another test. Frustrated, I told my partner which is silly.  What really he supposed to do mimic my frustration? It doesn't involve him and he has own problems. By not mirroring it, he with his own wisdom did not meet it head on. He let it die on its own. He reminded me that we all die, and this won’t be the last. Saying again, “All we leave when we die are the good deeds we do while alive, that are important.” Really, the frustration rose out of the fact that I was still there, and could not run out of the situation…..I was not going anywhere. Plus, no fairy with her magic wand would come and fix it. I would go into what it was, but that would distract others from finding their own innate wisdom. We all encounter such things and what we bring to the table is a history of reactions we may have learned in the past with our unique combination of traumas. If you did not have any, you would be dead by now. No one is immune.

Later, I watched the film, “All is Lost” and I went for a late night walk alone to get some air. I told my partner it was to get ice cream. Enjoying the night winds, I churned up some thoughts about being confronted with one’s upcoming death every second, and the natural survival that one gravitates toward even when it all seems hopeless.

We all die, so do we struggle with life’s dramas just to avoid this reality? Is it survival instinct or avoiding contemplating our death almost every second, like we should. Hopefully it will arrive onboard, and dictate how we treat others.

On my walk, I thought about my troubles, and then the actor in the film.  I knew to get out of this space,  it would come down to getting busy and helping others. It is not always about you and the gibberish your mind throws.

I knew where to look, and saw the couple again. I bought dinner for the blind couple who sing Isan tunes for spare change on a road overpass. Just in time because they were packing up for the night. Later, while sitting I watched a late night street vendor sit down, with a swollen knee bandaged, and smiled with compassion once I noticed his pain. I took off quickly to a late night pharmacy without saying anything to him, and bought some cream that has pain killer and anti-inflammatory while being cooling and hurried back to give him. I expected nothing in return, I just said hello, and pointed to my knee and gave him the cream and walked away. Immediately, any ideas of “me“ and my difficulties disappeared.

On the way back from giving the vendor his pain cream, I bought my partner two of his favorite taro ice cream bars. This wasn’t walk for me…it was for others. Little did I know, because I was gone long, my partner went looking for me, and while out he bought me two dark chocolate bars. It was funny when I came home, we exchanged ice creams.

What Won’t We Get Done?

Patiently sitting in the house of a stranger, it quickly becomes the familiar like the appearance of a slightly different movie set. It is your house in a different life or dream. You try not to interfere, but you know damn well it could be you in that bed, and these supposed strangers ...are your family. They are very considerate, you could feel their immense love for their friend and each other. The chanting was beautiful, halfway through profound wailing was heard and it took all my strength to remain calm and present with these emotions conveyed. I did not look or connect to see it who it was. I did not feel uneasy, only my heart was trying to reach out of my chest.


A man is dying...and his wife prepared the walk with flowers to greet the nuns with love when we arrived. In my head, I say this is beautiful, but private, so I stepped far away from their path. Suddenly the door opens and his wife bows to the nuns. I had asked earlier if I should stay in the car until they felt a need to have me enter, but they had no idea what was the status when we arrived. They were hoping my stroke experience would help him…just pure intention.

It really happened fast to him, and there was no time to plan. I won’t go into too many details out of respect. I walked outside to get some air and to pet the cats that had waited patiently near-by, sensing that something was up. A half hour later a man walked outside and we talked, me breaking the ice with an explanation why my voice was bad after I commented about the trees on the hill.  I asked, “Is that a tree house way up there?” I listened to what he had to say. “No, it is only the sky peaking through the trees.” Then easing into some of my story, because of his preplexed reaction to my voice. In the process, I reassured him that my near death left me with no fear and detailed the experience. The worries most of have about wanting more life in this body are only born out of the fear of the unknown.  I saw his red eyes clear up some and forehead relax knowing it what he heard was no bullshit. I encouraged him to meditate soon, to see what how we really think, and spend time alone with your mind. Without vocalizing it, I conveyed that difficult times are a catalyst for change. More fear will release naturally that you have been carrying around all these years. A good half-hour spent talking with total honesty, in a relaxed way.  Letting him lead where this conversation went.

It was time to leave, and talking with the nuns who I drove there, and unknown to me I was speaking to that family member who had cried earlier. My jaw dropped, that the same person who really needed my compassion had found it their own time in their own way. Instead of any kind of awkward, forced or fake sympathy I would have offered in the past…it just happened organically.

 

I knew I had to go to Mozart Brain Lab therapy and the puzzle that I was close to finishing was on my mind. It triggered something before arriving...We will always die with unfinished business.  So, I decided to stop it and just feel the emotions of this small symbol of death, right now. I would normally finish it, and look for some small sign of accomplishment... energetically. So this is not like me. As the session ended, which I did in meditation posture instead doing a puzzle or some other brain connection game and we moved to hearing chants to seal the therapy and relax the brain, I broke down. Not that it wasn't expected or embarrassing. I wanted to wail, but tried to keep it down, with the others clients in other rooms out of respect. Some was what remains in my body from my life experience and it can be expected. Could be that experience earlier, helped to access the things that need to come out. It was combined with a very frank discussion by a close surgeon friend, during the previous night’s dinner, talking about his clients generally to me about death. In a moment of silence and with complete honesty said, “No one really dies peaceful... unless I say, ‘good-night’ alluding to seeing them in the morning and then they pass with relaxation. This is why I think it is always about others, making them happy,” with a furrowed brow.

Paradise Unravelling

Residing in a cheap, no A/C, no hot water, older room in a up and coming hotel in the off season, in an almost remote setting.....puts a strange twist on your grip of reality. And staying put, more or less shelving the camera because it gets in the way of truth I begin to see life as really exists here in Sri Lanka. Surely, there is a part of me that wants to see and experience new, new, new in an attempt to obscure the reality of my up coming death. On the other hand, I will swim in dangerous surf every morning with no one around to rescue me, today walking by locals saying, "Be careful," while walking away from the beach. Half hoping that now is time for a tsunami wave, or one good shark bite ...because now is just as good any other once you have seen the suffering of others in life. It just doesn't get better when you are an emotional connected person. I don't easy disconnect with people.

Today, my room door had a small knock, and I opened it to friendly young man that works in the hotel to come ask if there is any way for him to get work in USA, because he is oldest and needs to provide for the family, and 10,000 rupees a month doesn't cut it. Plus he is worked to core and has to live on the premises, even though his village is less than 40 minutes away. It reminds me of working at a high end ski lodge when I was 20, knowing I would never be able to afford to stay were I worked, helping to maintain a healthy dose of seething anger. He was not asking for handout, he just wants to be able to work and earn enough. Later in the week, I'm invited to his home, but I have feeling that once I see the fact it still has no roof yet, it will be etched in my mind. I really have a great memory and it's the only thing not really fazed by my brain injury, so I won't forget it.



Behind the smiles here in Sri Lanka, there is like almost everywhere in the globe great division between the haves and have nots. Only here the corruption, double crosses( fooling people to invest in property, fake the documents with a lawyer, just so that they legally take it back) , and overcharges are rampant. So soon many people have put aside Buddhist precepts to get something little or something big.

This afternoon I took prints of photos I took of the women who make limeade with unfiltered tank(man made mini reservoir water). We (my Trishaw driver and I) gave them one to the daughter of a woman who makes limeade, and were suddenly asked( because I don't wear rings) if she could marry me and come to US. Thank the quick tongue work of my driver, saying I am an ex-monk to throw her off. Later when a elder monk stopped us to get Dana for his temple which was fine and it was only 100 rs. it was a welcome change.

A brief glimpse of radiance, happened when I got my haircut on this new year holiday, and I wasn't up charged 10 fold like they normally do, because he was an older barber with morals intact. And when I went to a village family for Kola kanda herbal porridge, when asked how much for two glasses, she said, "Up to you." Just reflect on the setting of a family of 5 in two room house, with not much else but love and smiles to share, reminds me I have to download their photos and take to them before I leave. Which shows the other side of the coin of my existence still not quite ready to throw in the towel.

Can You Know Enough to Stop Dying?

“You can only rise as high as your self-esteem” 

— Sayadaw U Jotika

Apparently, aspiring for comfort takes all your energy. It slowly became obvious that I desired wisdom out of some kind of payback for suffering and my upcoming death. But who is dying? We all are, there was never an I to be worried about. It was all part of the package. 
This Burmese Super Man agreed to let me photograph him, only because he was wise enough not to care ...a non-issue. Make your suffering as elegant as his appears, and you'll inspire many without even knowing it.  I bow to him and all those wiser than I. 
Any thoughts about your death?

Introduce Enthusiasm when Difficulties Arise

dedicated to Moher, who with her humorous style —
laughed all the way until she passed last May

We know that we learn the most from our difficult times, and there is a huge storehouse of them just waiting around the next corner, so why act surprised all time when they do appear? It is a chance to use some aspect of experience and wisdom that we have gained.  Humor may not result until we are over the shock of the discovery that things are not the way they are “supposed to be.”  Let’s try to introduce some enthusiasm about the unknown, instead making that psychological connection to our death immediately? When we put an old pair of shoes, or nice comfy bathrobe there is some familiarly with them and we relax. If we can relax like that when the body has pain, or when you have too much to get done today, the subtle signal will introduce some ease. The feeling can come out of the understanding of the fear only and may later appear warm. It will then blossom into enthusiasm and maybe humor later when you realize the main problem is how you try to push it all away like a child. Have we not grown up?  Our teenager response of approaching this with the “grin and bear it” model, because your body knows bullshit well, and will slap you silly. We just don't know what is next despite all our plans to the contrary and that alone in humorous. You have made it this far, gather up some of your innate wisdom and lay on the table. GAME ON!

This was sparked by the enthusiasm of my partner last night on Skype, knowing we can be with each other again soon and just enjoy some morning coffee before his work. He has been patient will our separation and my disability, looking beyond current difficulties to the bigger picture.

Seen on Bentinho Massaro's T-shirt:

"I do not intend to tiptoe through life only to arrive safely at death."

What We Are

Pointing Upward

In my home-office in an older 30’s building in classic Spanish style. It has open stairs to the roof, totally open to the sky with pillars about 8 ft high all around to shade some of the sun. In one corner of this roof deck shoots a Moorish minerat.

The building is white-washed, fading and peeling in the hot sun. I was online doing a search, and scrolled past a real estate agents’ photo who I had talked to the night before. She curiously left her camera on, so her photo was still live on this particular site. She was angry with client who she was talking to. I scrolled back to see her, kind of shocked at her behavior and how funny this looked on a web page. She noticed midway through that she was broadcasting this, or perhaps she saw me on my camera and leaned forward and clicked it off. In the background and out of open staircase to the roof, I heard a man, saying out loud, “I will see if I can destroy this thing!” with a Czech accent. I can hear a guy beating away at my building with his hand, when he decides to ram it with his body. Guessing it was the minerat, I ran up the stairs to the roof.  On the way up, I decide that no matter how threatening he is and how mad I am, that I will be kind in my approach.

I get to the roof, and say with a curiously sweet face, “Now, why would like to destroy my old building, exactly?” I walk casually towards him and put out my hand. He is already confused by my reaction and stops banging, and I walk closer even though I see he is carrying a gun with his nice cameras. He softens enough that upon touching his hand, all stream has blown out of his idea. I say, put your hand on my chest to know I am a breathing human being just like you. He reaches out, and I have already touched his shoulder. Although bigger than I am, he is blond and slightly sweating and feels warm to touch. I defused the whole situation by not meeting his anger with anger. He did not really know it was my building. I get a close look at his gun and nice cameras, and compliment him on his good taste in cameras, as I walk him across the roof and down towards my steps off the roof. But then I notice, all these framed photos I took years ago, laid out on the roof deck, like a gallery display. I say, this is curious in my head, while moving a few aside, not to step on them. I look at the man with a slightly surprised face, and can see he can provide no answers, either.

I am beginning to put it all together, that I am dead and my old photos I have taken over the years have been laid out by my family or my partner.  With a warm feeling and no panic, it is was done for me, and then I roll over and wake up from my morning dream. I usually fall asleep after my pre-dawn hour meditation, and I must be working out some part of my unconscious with a little flare.


A little aside, if I die or any else close to you dies in your presence — tap three times firmly on the third eye(between the eye brow) to help mine or their spirit leave their body, instead of lingering around. 

Rowing Quietly Upstream

This came to me like an old 40w incandescent bulb. My partner is staying away this weekend because he is sick and he doesn’t want to infect me. I tell him it’s up to him, and said, "I don’t care if I have to take care of you like this." But like always, when he makes up his mind it is written in stone.

I feel I most likely die when I feel my partner is OK in life. Not that it will be a firm date, or even really planned... I'll just turn the boat around and join the rest of us. Nor does the OK state have some kind of qualifiers. I will pass much like my mother will pass once she feels we are all OK(I have a schizophrenic sister that is having a hard time). If look at where I am now, and what I have become. I probably won’t “be” anything but pure love, in most instances to my partner. I am constantly reminded that he is own person, lives his life with or without me. Not in a callus way, is still in a loving and appreciative of the impact I have made on his life. He rarely asks for anything, and most all of what I have contributed to make his life easier was done on my part out of love. I don’t want him to owe me anything, and I think all this came out of my near death. A force that propelled me to fight to live, leaving me to believe that there was a bigger picture I needed to address.


That to be in the world, or to more importantly to live in this world someone had to love you, like your mother, or father… in order for you to survive. My partner was raised by some village elders unrelated that acted like grandparents to him in his case. He feels indebted to his "grandmother" who had passed just before we met, I did meet his grandfather on two visits to his home and have a great picture of the two them. I will venture to say that is grandmother passed him on to me, and he was the closet to her and it shook him when she died. It was a miracle we met but we did so, just as soon as he got over the grief.

My survival from my hospital nightmare also had a love factor involved, my family, ex-partner and nurses made it all possible. So the best thing to come out of this freaky experience is the fact that I will be known for attempting to show love, above anything else I am, do or was capable of. I don’t need to “be” anything, but what I am right now, of course, with some improvement.

Our Love is Easy

A fairly recent graduate of N.D.U.(Near Death University) of which I am alumni. Here she is with Herbie Hancock talking about her healing, and singing.

This is a treat, someone said Billie Holidayesque. Today, while meditating and totally into the peace in my mind, a 1/2 hour into it at the gym someone came right in front of me and jumped up and down. I guess it was done to see if it would disturb me, but alas, even I was shocked...never a flinch, nor did I open my eyes. I never know who did it, because when the mediation ended I did not care to find the person looking into faces. Yet, another relaxation level for me working on the fact that I may die today. Our Death is Easy!

That Same Face

It’s quiet, with the exception of the beeps on my monitoring equipment. I know ...I have been here before. I am going in and out of consciousness, and it is getting harder and harder to breathe. My partner is watching me, wondering…I look at him, and see three wrinkles of worry on his forehead. I marvel at his handsome face, his few eye wrinkles, his graying temples, but he is much more, a truth body. Yes, I have learned so much from him. He knows death well, from cremating his own brother when was 18 from suicide, not to mention his parents in the recent past. It is a on to another life that he has prepared us for by making merit and being a monk many times. He smiles. Knowing I am trying to talk, he leans closer to the bed. With a slight smile, I manage to whisper, “I get it,” before slipping into a subtle mind just before death.








Now, back it up. Where or what proceeded this, you ask?


I recently watched Revolutionary Road, and Kate Winslet in a moment of hopelessness of seeing her dreams scattered like ashes…had that face. I said I know that face, and it all came back to me.
My father drunk, sarcastically bitching at my Mom while she was making dinner for the six of us. My Mom’s hands were wet, she had a towel in one hand, and things were burning in the kitchen. She was leaning on the kitchen door frame, just looking at him with the same pained expression, and a tear flowed down one cheek. The four of us kids were avoiding coming to the table to endure, yet another one of his rages. What will he do this time? Mom was torn up, she can never do it, be good enough for him and she had nowhere to go, with the four us attached. She turned around and said, “Fine” and poured herself a glass of wine. She continued on fixing our dinner, tears were flowing down now and falling onto our plates. “Kid’s, you know your father.” Pissed off she would not engage him anymore, he got up from his regular throne, a chair at the table, slamming the door and taking off in his car. Mom would still try to serve dinner, but was so overwrought. I was sick of it, and took off to my room, dinner was not that important. Later my Mom would try to make up for the love that she and us did not get from my father. At times it was too smothering for me, being in junior high…moms were supposed to give you twenty paces, plus I saw right through it. I would say that you can’t make up for him.





Now years later I know what I got from my mom, was the ability to love someone, love myself and this formed my successful relationships. Lucky, I have no kids to worry about having to feed and clothe. I pity the situation she was in back then, and am glad she is happy now. She paid a hell of a price for us kids. Thank you Mom, and I really owe you my life. Yes, I finally get it.
The top photo is by my partner of the cremation of a family friend. A dear father figure who helped him as a child, when his father took off drinking, leaving his mom to raise her 4 kids without him.

Working From the Inside Out

I am trying to weed myself off the news, and not because I don’t care. It is more like there will always be bad things happening with a few good things. It brought to light that the world will continue without us …whether we get out raged or not. This is not a defeatist attitude, is just seems real looking at this big huge world. Now, this is coming from someone who has been active in trying to instrument change for about 30 years. After I noticed that when a famous person dies, that it is noted for a day or two. But after that, everything surrounding that person’s importance falls by the wayside, it appears. The world, in my view, will not bat an eye when we are gone. This does not mean that we should not have moral discipline. If we don’t think before we act we actually jeopardize our future happiness... while we are here. This sound is very self-serving but if we create the world in which we live, even though it is smaller than we first thought, we will be happier. Within our little world if we stop lying, watch our speech, being kinder to strangers and friends we start to work on the world we really want to exist in. It turns out to be within our grasp, even if we start, at first, with an intention. So, when we no longer exist, the people in our ‘world' will be the ones to carry memories of us around with them. If we leave behind us a positive ‘wake,’ then we are much more likely to inspire continuing good will and actions among those close to us. This will, in turn, create the world we really wanted working from inside out. My idea, real reincarnation are the positive memories that we leave with those around that love us.

A New Temple

I was out shooting a Chinese cemetery that I saw from the skytrain. It was full of dogs, and desecrated tombs, I guess, by people looking for something to sell. Thai’s usually cremate their dead, and I want this to be done to me too, after medical science gets their hands on me. It would be interesting for neuro-science to see how the brain rewires after my bi-lateral strokes(see first entry). Back to the cemetery…. Lalala. It always makes me more aware of my death and the need to make the best out of life. The following day I went to Chinatown here in Bangkok to Wat Traimit that houses the golden Buddha in a very mundane temple. I have been there several times, and I wanted to see the progress on the new temple. It’s a 13th century Buddha that is solid gold that was covered in limestone plaster to keep it safe from Burmese invaders.
Later a monk saw a glint of yellow after it slipped from the crane when being moved to a new location. Fast forward to today, with my passing in my head I decided it would be good to give to the new temple fund in my partners name. It started to rain fiercely, so I hung out in at the temple office, and spoke to the head monk and a Thai doctor who came to donate much more.


I am hoping that the new temple might inspire one new person to read Dharma. I am sad I will miss the moving of it to the new temple this September. A great photo opportunity plus an important event on a temple dedicated to the King’s 80th birthday.