Tag Archives: meditation

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: On the Road to Mindfulness

Leave a comment

The world has grown larger in the past couple of centuries as we have gone beyond our villages and towns, beyond our states and countries, as we have sailed and flown to foreign parts and discovered other villages, towns, and countries. Hopefully, we have learned that the people in those other countries are just like us; flesh and blood, with feelings, emotions, likes and dislikes; that they also love certain things about life; that they love their children, husbands and wives; that they too are fallible and make mistakes just as we do. Hopefully, we have gained a broader view of humanity as a whole and now understand the greater interconnectedness of all things and that we are all responsible for what happens on our planet no matter where we live. Hopefully, we have learned that we are all the same in so many ways, because now may be the time for us to return to our villages and towns and countries, taking with us all that we have learned. Now may be the time for us to utilize what we have learned, for all humanity.

With the crisis in Japan the world has changed. We must accept this fact. We must figure out how we want to live now that we can no longer rely on trade with Japan to support our abundant lifestyles. Our cars must come from within our own borders, our food must be local, our responsibility to the entire world rests on us all making changes that are good for the Earth. We must not only change our personal lives, but we must pressure our governments to change as well, to be a part of the greater world without a doubt, but to make decisions that take into consideration the larger global picture that we have a greater understanding of now that we have all become world explorers. But it is time for the explorers to take what has been learned and, with that new knowledge firmly grasped, return home and change.

So how can we personally change? How can we as individuals make progress toward changing the way things are done? We can start with mindfulness. In the Buddhist sense, mindfulness is staying present in the moment, in as many moments as possible throughout the day. It is being mindful of how we walk, how we eat, how we talk. It is being mindful of how we drive, how we spend our time, how we think. It is being mindful of how we love, how we give, how we receive. It is being mindful of what we choose to look at, read, and allow into our bodies. It is being mindful of our thoughts, judgments, criticisms of our self and others. It is being mindful of our intents, our prayers, our desires. In essence, being mindful is being aware, and being aware of ourselves in the world is how we can be mindful of how we can change.

In practical terms, we must first accept that we are all living in Japan now. Our world has changed. That is the first thing we must take into consideration as we turn and study our personal responsibilities to this changed world. How can I mindfully be present and aware?

“Most of the time, we are lost in the past or carried away by the future. When we are mindful, deeply in touch with the present moment, our understanding of what is going on deepens, and we begin to be filled with acceptance, joy, peace, and love.” So writes Thich Nhat Hanh in The Long Road Turns to Joy, A Guide to Walking Meditation.

I propose meditation in everyday life, in constantly reminding the self to be present, as the means of gaining greater awareness of ourselves in the world and greater awareness of what we must do to change and flow with the energy of nature, now guiding us in this process of change. This does not have to be anything more than reminding the self to focus on each task that we do, to do it mindfully. Personally, I try to be mindful from the moment I wake up. I am not always successful, since it is impossible to be mindful every moment of every day, but the more often I pull my thoughts back to what I am doing the more I am able to be present. Each one of those tiny moments of presence, of awareness of the moment, adds up. Being mindful throughout the day is really very simple.

When I get out of bed and put my feet onto the floor, I say to myself: I am putting my feet onto the floor. I feel the floor under my feet. I am walking, walking, walking. I am waking up with each step. I am noticing the morning darkness or the morning light. I am walking.

When I make my morning coffee, I say to myself: I am making the coffee. I am running the water, measuring the coffee, thanking the earth for the water, the coffee plantations for the delicious coffee beans. I am staying mindfully focused on what I am doing, turning this process into a mantra as I awaken to a new day mindfully. When I drink my freshly brewed coffee, I say to myself: I am drinking this coffee. I am drinking and feeling each sip I take. I am mindfully drinking my coffee.

As the day goes on, I continue to remind myself to pay attention to what I am doing. When I eat, I say to myself: I am eating now. I am eating this delicious food that someone else has grown and tended and I thank them for it. If I keep thanking and focusing on what I am doing other thoughts easily leave, but they come back quickly, so I must again remind myself of what I am doing. This is practicing mindfulness.

In accepting that we are all personally responsible, as citizens of the world, we can turn to the small things in life as the place to begin making the most changes, having the most impact. As we mindfully go about our day we may discover where we are sloppy with our time and thoughts. We may discover that, as we pay attention to each task, we slow down considerably and in so doing gain not only peaceful moments of calm, but discover that we don’t really need to hurry at all, because we see that in slowing down mindfully we have plenty of time for the things that really matter. And that is the crux of what our world is asking of us now. What really matters?

Mindfulness is awareness of the present moment

“The First Noble Truth,” writes Thich Nhat Hahn, “taught by the Buddha is the presence of suffering. Awareness of suffering generates compassion, and compassion generates the will to practice the Way.” If we are to practice the Way, live mindfully in balance with nature, inner and outer nature, we must be aware of suffering. Right now there is suffering in Japan, in the Middle East, and in our own countries there is suffering every day.

We can mindfully remind ourselves of this by saying: I am aware of the suffering in Japan. I am aware of the suffering as the wars in the Middle East are waged. I am aware of the suffering in my own backyard. I feel this suffering. I accept the truth of suffering. I know what it means to suffer too. I now turn my heart outward and send compassion on the wings of intent. I am mindful of my power to change and to change the world by my intent.

This is mindful living. Try it.

Thanks for reading and passing these blogs on to others! Sending you all love and good wishes.

In mindfulness,
Jan

If you wish to correspond, please feel free to post a comment below. And don’t forget to check out our facebook page at: Riverwalker Press on facebook where we post daily comments and quotes.

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: The Observer

Leave a comment

Take note: The Observer is always present. It’s clear that we all have one. But how do we access this most pragmatic and sage voice of wisdom? I like to call this aspect of the psyche the Ancient Spirit Self, but for today I will stick with the term Observer.

Lately, in dream work, I have noticed this Observer most clearly. Having set my intent to access this aspect of self over the past few weeks—writing about it on the website and meditating into quiet specifically to access it—its voice has grown more pronounced. That is how intent works. I bow to intent today in writing about my experiences of the Observer.

Last week, I wrote about two dreams I had in Dreaming Intent. I noted during those dreams that I was both Participant and Observer and since then I have been aware that I am always both Participant and Observe while I dream. Even in waking life we are Participant and Observer, though perhaps it is easier to experience these two sides of the self in dreaming. With our busy minds and the difficulty we have in shutting down our thoughts, the dreaming world might be a good place to begin experiencing the Observer and note the difference between this voice and other voices, such as those related to the ego, the voice that speaks most loudly as we navigate the everyday world.

We all dream and I suggest that in dreaming we all clearly experience ourselves as Participant and Observer. Think about it. Recall a recent or old dream and note from what perspective the dream was viewed. Most likely, even though while deeply immersed in the dream there was another aspect of awareness that was present, as if directing the action or watching from afar. This is the Observer.

For instance, while dreaming recently, I clearly heard my Observer self telling me to wake up and write the dream down. “You know you’ll forget it, or you just won’t get it right if you don’t wake up now and write this down,” it said to me, rather sternly. I rather reluctantly got myself up to a sitting position, reached for my notebook and pen, which I keep open and ready beside the bed, and, in a half-awake state, in the dark, I wrote out the experience of the dream.

In the morning, my first thought was that I would most likely have to elaborate on what I had written, sure that I had not captured the essence of the dream during my bumbling state in the night. But, when I took a look at what I had written in the dark of the night, I saw that I had most clearly captured the dream, that I did not have to elaborate or alter a single word that my Observer had instructed me to write down.

This fascinated me on two levels. First, I noted how my ego jumped right in with its judgments, sure that I could not have captured the full essence of the dream. But when I read what I had written, I pointedly asked my ego to step down and be humble, to not be so quick to jump to conclusions. Second, I was fascinated by the language that flowed out of me in that dream state. I decided that I must learn to trust the Observer more often. I liked the tone of this Observer. It had simply and truthfully captured the dream. I note that the Observer, present in both my dream state and in my half-awake state, was the voice of truth, of reason—the one who knows all—and when I listen to it, I see that it does, in fact, get things right.

It is humbling and almost frightening to note that we all have this voice of reason within us. We all have the potential to get our lives in order, to live as ancient spiritual beings, and yet we relinquish this most central aspect of ourselves as we navigate the world from our participant selves, our egos, thinking that they have all the answers. I find this pretty scary while at the same time I note that it is how we must live in this world. We must build our egos to the point where they can topple without our attaching to them, without our needing them anymore. They will always rise up again and again to test us, to challenge our Observer-Who-Knows-All, seeking to thwart our true need for this aspect of self to live more fully. The ego is there to both draw us from this inner aspect of self, and challenge us to more fully embrace it.

In our dream world we have the opportunity to more fully connect with this Observer self, to understand how it directs us to not only observe and take note of the truth, but how it pushes us to act, as it did in my dream, asking me to: “wake up you sleepyhead and write this down!” In gently nudging us awake, night after night, it asks us to remember its voice, its sober and truthful tone, its pragmatic and knowing insinuation that we are fully capable of hearing and acting on its directives. We just have to train ourselves to do so.

As I mentioned above, we are both Participant and Observer in dreaming and in waking life. Personally, I intend to keep studying this inner and outer phenomenon. I intend to be more alert to myself in both roles. When am I Participant and when am I Observer? Am I indeed both at the same time, all the time? Can I switch over to Observer, ancient spirit self, volitionally in waking life, even when I am not meditating? Yes, I believe it is possible. And to do that, I must remind myself constantly to stay present in the moment.

I know—and perhaps it is my Observer telling me this—that if I constantly remind myself to stay in the moment that I will more fully access this aspect of self. So, I elect to challenge myself this week to more fully stay in the moment. That is the intent I set, with the added intent of being able to hear the clear voice of the Observer, as clearly as I heard it in my dream.

I ask that my Observer wake me up throughout my day and tell me what I need to know. This is my intent. Why not try it too, and then let’s see what happens!

If you wish, feel free to share or comment in the Post Comment section below.

Thanks for reading and passing these blogs on to others! Sending you all love and good wishes,
Jan

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Meditating into Egolessness

2 Comments

Once again nature predominates in the Northeast, another winter storm creating an outer cocoon that is hard to penetrate. At times like this, there is a natural call to go inward, to hunker down, be warm and safe, and hope that the power stays on so that we are not too badly inconvenienced. During one of these recent storms, as I was shoveling the driveway for what felt like the hundredth time that week, feeling dispirited, irritated, and personally put upon by nature, I shouted out: ENOUGH! In the distant woods I heard a loud gravelly cry in reply. It got my attention.

Taking a breather, I flopped down in the snow and stared up into the sky, the snow pelting my face cooling my mood. “Don’t take it so personally,” I told myself. From the woods came a flurry of activity, the sound of wings beating and more loud calls, as if an argument or fight were taking place. In the next moment, a large black bird flew up and out of the tangle of trees, still calling loudly, its adversary shouting behind it. It flew directly overhead, a raven. Now it really had my attention.

The raven rarely shows itself. I see it only occasionally though I know it lives in the nearby woods, having heard it often enough. Its loud groveling voice is easy to distinguish. As it flies overhead I hear it still arguing with the other bird, perhaps ousting it from its territory, or perhaps it was a mate, but all I know is that this moment is meaningful. I ponder what I had been thinking when it so loudly interrupted my inner dialogue. “Who are you to complain?” it seemed to be saying, as it flew directly over me lying spread eagle in the deep snow.

It flew low enough that I could see each separate feather of its distinctly cut wedge-shaped tail, hear the flap of its wide wings, and see its beady eye staring right at me. Out of its long, sharp black beak came another string of garbled sounds, meant for me, I felt. “Don’t take it personally, Jan, but you are nothing. I see you lying down there, nothing more than a speck on the ground, so small and insignificant. I have quite a good perspective from up here you know,” it seemed to be saying. I saw the significance of the synchronicity very clearly then and, indeed, in that moment, I was released of my bad mood.

I got up, brushed the snow off my clothes, my state of mind now shifted. I chuckled at my former disgust with nature. Nature, I knew now, had quite a sense of humor. “Yes, it does!” cackled the raven, as it flew off into the deeper woods where I knew it stayed most of the time. Its chuckles pierced the air, echoing in my head for a long time afterwards.

I thought of this raven again yesterday, as I sat in meditation. I began by chanting a mantra, letting it come out of my unconscious of its own accord, falling into place. It went something like this: I allow my ancient spirit self who knows and sees to be more fully present in this life. As I sat quietly, letting both my breathing and the words take me deeper into calmness I also let the words sink in deeper, taking hold of other thoughts, pushing them away, as I stayed connected to the intent of the moment, to let my ancient self emerge more fully. I felt good. I noticed occasionally that I was not allowing other thoughts to intrude, that I was achieving a sense of detachment and emptiness, staying focused on my intent.

I use meditation in many ways and for different purposes, depending on the day or the moment. Sometimes I just want to achieve a sense of inner calm and peace. Sometimes I want to mull over difficulties, reach a resolution, or gain clarity. Sometimes I want to have an adventure of energetic proportions. Yesterday, I just wanted to see what happened as I attempted to resolve my personal inner dilemma of allowing my inner spirit—that holy/wholly self that Jeanne mentioned in the channeled message this week—to more fully live. It is my challenge, to not fall back into an old and moody self, but to keep moving forward on that path I mentioned in that same channeled message the other day.

So, as I chanted and breathed, after a while I got in touch with that inner spirit and I heard it say that it was not at all afraid to live, to be more fully present in my life, but that my ego kept getting in its way. It cannot emerge if the ego is in control, it told me. The ancient spirit self is always ready and waiting, but it cannot come forth if the ego is blocking the way. When I heard this, I gave myself a new chant: I allow my ego self to dissolve and let go of its need to control as I open to my ancient spirit self who knows and sees.

While I am having this inner conversation with what I think are my inner spirit and my ego, I hear another third voice asking me to question what is ego and what is ancient spirit. It was then that I clearly saw how totally dominant my ego was. Here I thought I was really letting myself go, feeling good about chanting in such a positive spirit-oriented way, saying: “Look at me, I’m doing it. I have successfully shut out all other voices, I am doing a good job with this meditation.” But wouldn’t you know, all I was doing was placating my ego, because that look-at-me-I’m-doing-such-a-good-job voice was really my ego talking. That third voice, so clearly coming from beyond ego pointed out what my ego was doing. This, was the voice of my ancient spirit self, telling me that in order to truly allow the ancient spirit self to more fully emerge I must consider the power of the ego.

So, what if it’s true that the ancient spirit self really does want to live but we are blocking its emergence without even realizing it? What if our ego is so attached to us and in command that we can’t access this true self? It’s something to ponder.

So, what is ego? I think it’s everything that is not ancient spirit self. And I think it dominates. It is the complaining, whining, self-important self; the inflated, so busy I can’t be disturbed self; the poor-me and why-me self. It is the self that says love me and be nice to me, world. It is the self that feels good about sitting and doing meditation and the self that wants experiences of energy and even of spirit connection. Yes, it is even the good self that seeks out the ancient spirit self. It is the self that rails against nature, against even more snow, and it is the self that may not want to hear the truths being spoken.

I had a feeling when I heard and saw that raven that it was a momentous occasion, and yesterday, when I sat down to meditate, the fact that the raven came to mind, as I chanted forth my ancient spirit self, is also significant to me. As I sit here now and once again watch the snow, sleet and freezing rain fall, the piles of snow outside growing increasingly taller, I feel more connected to the raven, showing me what the ancient spirit self is truly capable of. That ancient spirit self is like the raven, able to fly high about it all, to see and know from a different perspective what my ego self can only imagine, to call down and say, “Hey, wait a minute, what is really going on inside that controlling mind of yours?” My ancient spirit self is nature. This I understand more fully today.

And even though I cocoon myself inside my warm house and ponder these things, I know that later today I will be outside once again with my shovel, nature telling me I am nothing. But at the same time I will listen for the call of the raven telling me I am more than nothing as well, because I am also nature. And it is in nature that I will find my ancient spirit self, where I will hear its true call.

If you wish, feel free to share or comment in the Post Comment section below.

Sending you all love and good wishes,
Jan

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Gazing at the Golden Monk

Leave a comment

“I would like to experience energy as it flows in the universe.” Yesterday I set this intent, asking both Jeanne and don Juan to hear me, and then promptly forgot about it. I then went about my morning yoga practice and afterwards sat down to meditate for a few minutes before jumping into the day.

I faced the backyard, sitting on my pillow in front of the sliding glass door, as is my preference; looking out into the gray, overcast morning. The leaves are gone from the trees now and the branches of the large catalpa tree are but gray sticks crisscrossing in an intricate pattern. I noticed a pentagram shape formed by two large branches and several smaller branches and in the center of this pentagram a nice triangle at eye level. This is where I chose to focus my gaze. I did my usual breathing to clear my thoughts and bring my attention inward. Then I let my gaze soften, holding it on the small triangular shape in the middle of the pentagram.

Gently breathing in and out and continuing to clear my head of interruptions by repeating the mantra I’ve given myself—”I detach” on the in-breath and “I intend” on the out-breath—I continued to soften my gaze. (This is a shortened version of a mantra I’ve been saying for a couple of months now as I meditate. The longer version, which captures the spirit of my original intent, is: “I detach from the structures of this world and I intend a new world.” But having set that intent a long time ago I now simply say the shorter, equally effective mantra, shutting out the world as I do so. So far it’s worked really well.)

Softening my gaze, keeping it focused on the triangle in the tree, the world and the branches began to blur. In a few minutes I noticed a golden glow beginning to emanate from the now blurry triangle. It took on the shape of a human torso, as if a golden statue were standing there, radiating golden light. There was no head and no legs, just a simple torso; neck, shoulders, chest, waist, and arms with hands clasped in front at the lower abdominal area, looking rather monkish.

As I gazed at this golden monk I heard a soft voice saying: “Let your gaze soften, just stay with it.” I followed the instructions and watched as the golden glow extended outward from the torso, filling the tree and the entire back yard with vertically flowing waves of golden light. Suddenly, the backyard was no longer dark and gray but instead full of trees with golden leaves and bright light, and everything was vibrating. I held it as long as I could, until my mind popped back in and questioned: “Is that the sun shining?” I lost the gaze and came back into this world. There I was looking out at the gray tangle of branches, the world as dark and overcast as it was when I’d started.

“What the heck was that?” I wondered. Then I heard that soft voice again saying: “You can find it again. Go ahead, do it again.” Once again, following instructions, I gazed at the triangle of branches. Immediately the golden torso returned and began to glow. I lost it. I snapped back to this world again, to the gray and overcast morning as my mind interrupted the experience with logic and doubt.

I heard the voice again: “Go ahead, do it again, just gaze.” I suspended all judgment and did it again. The golden monk returned, I held my gaze slightly longer and then lost it again. The voice returned, instructing me each time I lost my gaze to keep practicing.

“Do it again. That’s right; hold it as long as you can. Let your mind go,” it instructed, “just have the experience.”

I did this six or eight times in a row. One more time I was able to hold it long enough for the back yard to fill with the golden waves of vibrating light, for the trees to become clothed in golden leaves, to see the vertical flow of energy before it all snapped back to the overcast and dull morning that it really was, in this world. This world looked asleep and dead, but I saw it as totally energetically alive.

As I practiced I understood two things. One, that this was what the seers of ancient Mexico did when they sat and gazed. They held the experience for as long as possible, but then, rather than getting caught in the amazement or the doubt of the experience they simply did it again and again, training themselves to see energy as it flows in the universe, volitionally. Persistence is the key. Here I learned the value of repetition as Chuck wrote about in his blog the other day.

The other thing I understood was that by setting my intent and having forgotten I had done so, I called infinity to me. And infinity came! I could have brushed all this away as just my vivid imagination, dismissed it, but I chose instead to stay with it, to value it for the experience alone. By paying attention to that quiet voice telling me to try again and again, I got beyond the possibility of seeing energy to accepting the truth of it. This was my experience of learning to see energy as it flows in the universe, volitionally.

I learned that by setting my intent, letting it go, doing my practice—which included repeating my mantra, paying attention to what was placed in front of me, shutting down the internal dialogue, and listening to the guidance—I could have a shamanic experience with the golden monk and whoever else that was who was whispering so gently yet so convincingly in my ear.

I humbly offer this practice and these experiences of meditation, intent, and repetition so that others may find the courage to go have their own moments of seeing energy as it flows in the universe; in whatever way it comes, learning to trust the personal experiences. Oh, and by the way, enjoy them fully for just that: personal experiences of seeing energy!

If you wish, feel free to share or comment in the Post Comment section below.

Sending you all love and good wishes for good energy experiences,
Jan

Chuck's Blog

#732 Chuck’s Place: Repetition

1 Comment

The seers of ancient Mexico state that the only barrier between this world and infinity is the internal dialogue. The internal dialogue is the incessant conversation that plays in our heads from the moment of waking to the moment of sleeping. These inner conversations continuously tell us who we are and interpret, non-stop, the events and people around us. With our attention so fixated and monopolized by these inner conversations, we are hardly available to perceive or experience anything outside the world this internal dialogue generates.

The seers of ancient Mexico describe dreaming as a time when we are naturally freed of the internal dialogue and, as a result, journey into other worlds or other potential realms of experience. Those seers cultivate this natural phenomenon into a conscious art of dreaming where they volitionally journey into infinity.

Other traditions such as Yoga and Buddhism have discovered similar pathways to exploring infinity by achieving inner silence in meditation. Though deeply attracted to the value of these esoteric traditions, most Westerners experience considerable difficulty engaging in these practices. Perhaps it is the added burden we Westerners encounter at every nook and cranny of our existence—the external dialogue constantly telling and selling us on who we are, what we need, what’s new, what’s best and, most recently, the addition of all the latest news from our friends on Facebook. Is there any Western practice that can lead us to inner silence? I propose: Repetition.

When I was a preteen I was abruptly torn out of public junior high school, mid-year, and placed in Sister John Michael’s seventh-grade class at Saint Ignatius Loyola grammar school. Sister John Michael was horrified that I was left-handed but, even worse, that the quality of my handwriting was a dead give-away of demonic influence. For Sister John Michael the most important things in life were presentation and uniformity. I failed at proper lowercase loops on L’s, which I was taught must be clearly differentiated from loopless T’s. Lowercase F’s and P’s must sink below the line at the proper depth and angle, never interfering with subsequent letters on the next line. And of course, all letters must be consistently drawn, clones of each other. Sister John Michael taught me, through shame and fear, but most importantly through repetition: endless pages of letters until I got them right, consistently.

Repetition is a pathway to inner silence. If I mindlessly wrote a page of letters I was sure to receive a scolding, a sentence to blackboard writing after school under the watchful eyes of Sister John Michael, and the insistence that my mother sign my heavily marked up homework filled with red corrections. Hence, repetition must include mindfulness, being fully present versus falling asleep at the wheel of habit as the internal dialogue resumes its incessant chatter.

Don Juan made it clear that setting an intent and the repetition of it is key to harnessing intent. My suggestion to reach inner silence, the gateway to infinity, is to set the intent for inner silence, repeat it incessantly, with mindfulness, whenever it comes to mind: in the shower, walking, going off to sleep, waiting, etc. As with all meditation, attach to no outcome, yet know with certainty that silence will come. Expect nothing, wait with patience; simply repeat: “Inner silence, inner silence, inner silence…”

I send my gratitude to Sister John Michael, wherever she may be, for teaching me this deep shamanic practice of repetition. Unfortunately, I’m not so sure that she’d be proud of my handwriting, which I’m sure she’d still judge to be possessed!

If you wish to correspond, please feel free to post a comment below.

Until we meet again,
Chuck