Sunday, January 30, 2011

Playing Harriet Tubman

I am practicing Tonglen*.  I am practicing Tonglen for  someone.  He is eight.  He has cancer.   Doing Tonglen for my need my demand that he get well,  fighting this will of mine that is getting in the way.  This  is so much greater than me .  It is beyond  and beyond,  gone beyond me.  He is sick.  I deliver it to the light and I watch in the shadows.  It is my part to bring him,  not to heal.  I am Harriet Tubman.  I am not the North.  He is delivered.  The work begin the work happens  beyond me and without me.   I am the UPS delivery truck driver.  No need to do anything more than my job.  Warm, wrapped as a gift  I bring him.  And still, and still my need is there.  I rage.  I am calling out an injustice.  No! No! No! My voice is a trumpet of grief and resistance.  I scream .  I pound my fists on the desk.  I stomp my feet and smash everything around me, demanding attention.  I will be heard.  Make him well, damn you!  Make him well.  And then,  when I've exhausted myself,  breathing heavy and shaking,  I pause.  I am embarrassed.  I blush and remember myself.  Oh excuse me.  My tantrum is interrupting.   I am the deliverer.  I sit quietly and watch as my charge is delivered.  Just bring him.  Just come.  Just hold and sit and allow.  Don't expect anything to happen.  Simply sit and allow.   Just be.  Offer it all.

*  Tonglen is a Mahayana Buddhist practice meaning of sending light to others, and taking their pain upon yourself.

Sunday, January 23, 2011


Welcome to my blog.   Bless you for being curious!

I believe in the alchemical nature of life.    I believe that we are given the suffering in life as a portal to walk through into joy.   To avoid what makes us uncomfortable is to walk past this door and miss it.    I have so many beliefs!    I believe that the beginning of liberation is to say yes to everything.  When there is a part of life that seems unattractive, it is simply our wise and venerable teacher acting out a parable.   This is a special story played out just for us. To cover our eyes and ears because we don't like the story;  the scary troll, or the maiden treated cruelly,  it to deny the heart of the teaching.

So this blog is my goat nature rooting out nourishment and gifts to be found in the compost heap.    Who knew that God was hanging out in the landfill all this time?