What's Eating You? A Reflection on the precept "Not Indulging in Anger"

“What’s eating you?” is the perfect thing to ask since anger really does eat away at us emotionally and physically.



I see it as a habitual, conditioned response that shields against anything that would require me to feel more fragile and open. There is always something underneath anger I'd rather not experience—usually fear or sadness. My anger can be ignited by something as minor as an unintentional bump in the subway, or by something I perceive to be poor treatment by someone else: a remark that I decide is hurtful, or a behavior that I interpret as insensitive.

What lays beneath my anger is the misconception that there are certain ways in which the course of history ought to progress, and when it doesn’t go according to my grand plan I want to pick up my marbles and run over to another corner of the playground where everything is more to my liking.

My mind is like a mini courtroom with a virtual judge and jury that constantly weighs in on every situation I encounter. I deem some of these situations to be unfair or unjust and I get a lot of pleasure out of coming up with reasons as to why I'm "right". Most of the time the defense produces a very compelling case that justifies why I am angry and who is to blame. Not surprisingly, this inner jury almost always decides in my favor.

There is no such thing as “righteous anger” because nothing good is ever produced from an angry thought or a decision made under the influence of this emotion. Our culture is very big on expressing anger and even psychologists and psychotherapists encourage us to do so. I used to think that expressing anger was a wonderful thing, even if it meant punching a pillow or screaming out loud in an empty room. I’m no longer so sure that expressing anger really does anything beneficial at all—and in fact I tend to think that doing so might be harmful and ultimately counterproductive. I think the best way to deal with anger is to simply experience the emotion, to be aware of the thoughts that set it off, and to feel physical sensations that accompany it. It really does feel great when we lash out at another person by yelling, arguing or behaving aggressively—for a moment. But anger is a bottomless pit, an insatiable fire that wants to be constantly fed with the coals of our insecurities, our sadness, and our fears.

Some people think that getting angry is a necessary component of social change. But the people that are looked up to the most in this world acted with a passion that was tempered with awareness, patience, and loving action. None of the public figures that we admire today (ie Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Gandhi, Mother Theresa, the Dalai Lama) attained their status by being aggressive or cruel. What makes them so memorable is that they achieved great things by helping countless numbers of people through their positive actions and their virtuous examples.

We can work through anger by being aware of it and how it really feels in our bodies. It is important to become aware of the underlying emotions and thought patterns that give way to the rage we suffer from if we ever hope to move beyond it. If we relate to our anger instead of from it, we have a chance to free ourselves from the pattern of behaviors that cause so much harm to ourselves and others. If we let ourselves simply experience anger instead of reacting whenever it comes up, it will gradually lose its hold over us.

It isn't a stumbling block on our way to waking up. It is an invaluable tool that will help us do so, as long as we pay attention.

Buddhism and Sexuality

This was a response I added to a posting on another blog about sexworkers and Buddhism. It is rather brief considering how complex a matter sexuality is, but I think it effectively sums up my view about sexuality and morality:


I think sexuality or any other area of life can be engaged in wisely or unwisely.

It is true that a sex worker could misuse sex. It is also true that a psychologist could misuse psychology or a hair stylist could misuse cosmetology. If we are not mindful, aware, and well-intentioned, the results of any of our activities can be negative.

If our aspiration is positive, and we stay present and aware as much as possible, the effects of our behavior are more likely to be positive. This goes for a sex worker, bricklayer, politician, psychotherapist, athlete, whatever.

It is odd how people single out sex for misuse and put a lot time and energy into moralizing over it while at the same time claiming that buddhism is not a judgmental religion.

Let’s be mindful of that and not give in to the usual negative knee jerk reactions when it comes to sexuality.

Just Sitting or Just Hiding?

My initial approach to meditation was very misguided-I believed it was going to do all kinds of things for me and make my life easier. I thought I'd morph into this robo version of myself, replete with a soft voice and permanently pasted on smile, never getting angry or upset or bothered by anyone. I'd be impervious to anything negative and pearls of zen wisdom would spontaneously pour from my lips as needed.

It took me a while to realize that the changes that come with practice, if there are any changes at all, are more subtle than that. And if they do happen, they aren't all that noticeable right away, or at least they weren't for me.

Most religions or philosophies offer the promise of a grand prize if you play the game of life just right. The motivation for being a "good person", whatever the hell that is, is that you'll go to heaven or have a better next life or get the bicycle of your dreams if you can just visualize it strongly enough (remember The Secret?)

The way I see it, Zen offers no guarantee of a better afterlife or even a better next week. What it does offer, if we practice, is a better experience of life overall. In this moment. Right here and now. There are no fairytales or promises or magical cures, just an emphasis on a regular sitting practice so that we can better know ourselves and our minds so that eventually we are longer be so beholden to our thoughts.

That's something I can work with and believe in.

It's very tempting to view practice as a means of escaping rather than a tool for embracing our lives as they are. This was certainly how I saw it in the beginning.

The real payoff comes when we learn to stop running away from this moment in search of something better because true joy is right under our noses right now but we're too blind to see it most of the time.

Big Mind, Big B.S.

There is someone out there who claims "you will have in one day — before lunch actually — the clarity and experience that a Zen master has. But Zen is seen as the school of sudden enlightenment. And we're just making sure it remains sudden."

I find it troubling that someone can package enlightenment as if it were a lunchtime Botox session, with no down time.

By "sudden enlightenment" I'm sure no one ever meant that sartori should come about without the necessary time spent on a cushion or in a chair meditating. A seed does not produce a tall and steady tree in just a few days—it takes a good deal of time and a confluence of proper conditions ranging from good soil to light and adequate hydration. When and if it does come, I'm told, it can seem quite sudden indeed, but to promise people that your patented "Big Mind" process will provide them with a shortcut to enlightenment is irresponsible and even dangerous.

Anyone can be part of the Big Heart Circle plan and go on a 5 day retreat in Stein Eriksen Lodge Deer Valley, Utah on May 18 for only $100,000! If that's out of your price range another option is to go to Hawaii in June for only $50,000. And for if you can't afford that, you can take advantage of the $10,000 weekend in Utah this July. I'm not joking, you can see all of this HERE.

Just as I was about to publish this piece, I got a spam email from a website with the name "Sartori" in it that peddles psychic readings for up to $7.99 per minute. I'm an astrologer and I'll be the first one to tell you that while a reading can be very helpful and insightful, it isn't going to give you enlightenment. That is something we all have to discover within ourselves after a lot of hard work and time on the cushion.

As our practice matures, we move from a place of wanting to get something out of it to simply doing it. And over time, if we're really practicing well, we aspire to practice so that we can be of better service to others rather than being preoccupied with what practice can do for us. (The JFK speech comes to mind about what we can do for our country vs. what it can do for us.)

So it is very disturbing to hear Genpo Roshi packaging Zen Buddhism as if it were instant oatmeal.

Let's face it, very few things that are lasting and meaningful in life come about without at least some degree of effort and struggle and patience. And those things that do fall onto our laps easily are the very things we end up taking for granted in the long run.

We all want stuff to happen quickly and easily, and promises like these are very tempting. In fact, during my early days of practice I started watching Genpo Roshi clips on Youtube but fortunately something told me I wasn't hearing authentic Zen Buddhism and with very little research was able to see why.

Buyer, beware.

Ven. Samu Sanim of the Buddhist Society for Compassionate Wisdom

Samu Sanim is a Korean Seon sunim of the Jogye Order. He received Dharma transmission from Zen Master Weolha Sunim in 1983. He has taught primarily in Canada and the United States, having opened centers in Toronto, New York, Ann Arbor, Michigan and Chicago, Illinois as well as Mexico City.

He was born in Korea in 1941, suffering the loss of both parents at an early age. He was orphaned at age eleven and became homeless. After several years of living on the streets, Samu was ordained as a Buddhist monk at Pomo-sa in Pusan, Korea in 1956 (age 15). He moved to Japan in order to avoid conscription and relocated to the United States in 1968, where he established the Zen Lotus Society in New York (today named the Buddhist Society for Compassionate Wisdom).

Reflection on Planning My Own Funeral

This is a reflection paper I wrote for my chaplaincy training class. As an assignment we were asked to plan our own funeral and to go through the process of making arrangements at a funeral home for our own service.

REFLECTION

I purposely scheduled my visit to a local funeral home as I would any other chore—I made it happen between my shift at the hospice and just before I went grocery shopping. I can't tell if this means I am very comfortable with the reality of my eventual death or if it means I'm simply not taking it seriously enough. I really don't know for sure either way but I tend to think I'm relatively comfortable with the knowledge that I am absolutely going to die one day.

When I met with the director I felt a tad guilty for taking up any of his time considering my visit was partly an assignment for this course and not because my death is really imminent, at least as far as I know. It was rather odd to sit at a table and watch him itemize the various costs involved with a service and viewing on a form the way a car salesman might do had I been shopping for a Honda. If I did want to have a one-day viewing, my dead self would have the option of renting a coffin for $700. Something about being there and looking at the coffin samples clarified for me that I really want to be cremated and that over my dead body will there ever be a formal viewing of my dead body.

As I sat there I tried to muster up some heavy emotion, thinking an experience such as this should have felt more eventful and traumatic than it actually did. I thought of what it must have been like for all of the people who sat in that room before me and all of those that would follow. I thought about what it must have felt like for them to be making arrangements for their own death or that of a loved one. And then I felt some sadness and a very palpable sense of loneliness. Not the kind of loneliness that seeks company as a remedy, but the realization that death is so deeply personal an experience, and each of our deaths is going to be as unique and individualized as each of our lives. And ultimately no one knows our moment to moment experience as well as we do, nor will anyone else be able to fully understand our death experience as well as we will ourselves.

Reacting vs Responding

Last night at our sangha meeting we had a really interesting discussion about the differences between reacting and responding. Hearing people's thoughts helped me clarify my own about what this means.

When we react, we're on autopilot because our behavior is governed by repetitive conditioning that took place in the past. Something happened in the outside world that wasn't to our liking so we formed a reactive behavior of one sort or another to act as a shield against any potential misery that might come about if things don't go just as we'd like them to. As kids, we'd scream and carry on when we had a parent tell us we couldn't have that cookie before dinner or stay up past our bedtime. We carry our automatic reactions into adulthood, only we've cleverly adapted them so that they seem more justifiable and socially acceptable.

We're only truly free when we're able to pause for a moment before responding to someone or something that pushes our buttons. There is no freedom when we react like a robot: when we do that we're nothing more than a prisoner of our past conditioned experiences.

Those moments of anger are the most difficult to control because when we're angry we often thing we have to respond NOW and in the loudest, boldest way possible. But if we just sit with our anger and get really up close and personal with it, we can see that it doesn't necessarily require the extreme and hurtful behavior we're normally so tempted to attach to it.

As we sit and practice each day, we create more spaciousness in our heads and therefore in our lives. When we function with a mind that is bigger and calmer, we're not as likely to be hasty and hurtful and counterproductive.

Meditation in the Dentist's Chair

This morning I had an appointment with my dentist to have two cavities filled (only 5 more to go! Yay!)

For as long as I can remember, my way of coping with dental visits was to distract my body and my brain as much as possible from the pain, discomfort, and awkwardness of the experience. I mean, there is a whole lot of drilling and drooling to contend with at the dentist's office and if there were ever any moments of my life I hesitated to embrace, it would be these.

One method of distraction I'd use was to focus entirely on my hands--and as soon as the huge scary novacaine needle was about to pierce the wall of my mouth, I'd start tapping or scratching the top of my left hand with my right one, in a semi-successful attempt at redirecting my awareness from one area of my body to the other. And of course I'd keep my eyes closed and picture myself sipping on fruity cocktails in an exotic beach somewhere very far away from here. As usual I'd attempt to push away the unpleasant, and summon a degree of neutral-to-semi-unpleasant sensations in their place.

Today I experimented with sitting zazen in the dentist's chair. As I lay there reclined in the chair, I simply focused on my breathing and paid keen attention to the cold sharpness of the needle as it dug into the top row of my gums. I kept completely still as my hands rested on each of the chair arms, my body open and vulnerable to the entire experience. My mouth and tongue gradually numbed, and I took stock of what that felt like: nothing actually, it felt like nothing. A second injection followed and again, I sat motionless, and didn't entertain any judgments or opinions about what was happening, I just let it happen and submitted to the moment.

My dentist conversed with her assistant as she filled my two teeth (are they still putting mercury into our mouths?) and before I knew it, it was all over. Uncomfortable and awkward, complete with saliva streaming down my numbed-out mouth and onto my shirt, but it was over.

No big deal, just a dental appointment I decided to keep.

By the way, if you don't floss now, start.

Fireflies in the Morning

When I was a kid I was fascinated by the fireflies I'd see hovering around in the hot evening summer air. One night I trapped a few of them between my cupped hands and stuck them into a jar, screwing the top on and leaving it on the side of our suburban home. I thought that by doing this I'd be able to have a mini-light show again in the morning and throughout the day.

By the time I got to the jar the next morning, the fireflies were already half dead and barely able to fly around, and I had inadvertently zapped any trace of the energy that enabled them to pulsate with their brilliant yellow glow. Suddenly they looked like ordinary insects and I was very disappointed. Frustrated, I let them out of the jar and squashed them against the pavement with my foot. For just a few seconds I could see a trace of that amazing glowing light streaked across the sidewalk, only now I couldn't enjoy it at all as I could the night before--it felt artificial and anticlimactic.

I do the same thing now as a grown man, only in other ways that most people think are logical—through grasping and trying to hold on to those experiences that give me some pleasure.

When we try to hold onto an experience or person that pleases us, we're instantly setting up a situation where the only possible outcome is suffering. We naturally try to hold onto things and people, hoping that they'll stay the same and perform for us whenever and however we want them to.

By doing this we're confining both ourselves and the object of our desire within a virtual jar, just as I did with those fireflies. And all that does is to suck the life and spontaneity out of things because we're resisting the natural ebb and flow of life and instead demanding that it be a certain way at all times, with no room for change or growth or new possibilities.

When we can appreciate the beautiful brilliance that each new moment offers us without latching onto it or fearing its eventual absence, we allow ourselves an escape from suffering and an authentic sense of freedom.

Not Being Ignorant / Do Not Get Intoxicated (a paper on the precept)

This is a portion of my monthly precept paper for the Zen Center Chaplaincy Training program.

Not Being Ignorant
(Seeing Things Clearly)

The way in which I get the most clouded and unclear about things is through anger. Anger is extremely alluring and intoxicating because when I am angry my sense of identity and separateness is at its strongest. When something "out there" offends or hurts me "over here" I feel as solid and substantial as I possibly can and that sensation is very appealing.

The moment I fall into anger I'm no longer living in the present moment. Instead, I am reacting to something based on an erroneous belief I've formed in the past or assumptions I'm making about the present or future. Either way the ensuing thoughts and feelings aren't based in reality—but they do pump up my ego and this gives both the angry thoughts and feelings the illusion of realness. Rage gives me a real high, and the ensuing drama that goes on within my head is usually much more interesting than whatever it is I simply need to do at any given moment. I rob myself of just being here when I allow my thoughts to swirl around and feed them with attention or action. This gives way to fanciful conversations, imagined political debates with world leaders I'll most likely never meet, and blistering verbal attacks on anyone I'm at odds with or was at odds with at any point in time.

What's great about anger is that it gives me an outer focal point to blame for its presence—and the oxymoronic righteous indignation that goes hand and hand with it causes me to feel very superior and important. To support my case, I make a mental list of the reasons why I'm right and someone else is wrong. I'm certain that if only the object of my rage would be rational for a moment, they'd see how awful they are and how wonderful I am (and maybe even thank me for pointing out their fatal flaws).

For me, anger takes me away more than my use of alcohol does. I drink moderately and never get intoxicated to a degree that seriously impairs my judgment or ability to take care of myself. Alcohol does dull my overall experience and perceptions however, but I've gotten in the habit of being mindful of how off my senses are whenever I've had a drink or two. It's sort of like being mindfully intoxicated if that makes any sense.

Another way in which I get intoxicated is through fantasy. When things feel less that satisfactory or if I'm getting bored, my mind starts creating the ideal home—either my current apartment refurnished in some minor or major way, or when I'm really needing to escape I conjure up images of a huge two bedroom with ample space and a spare, modest room devoted solely to my practice and reading. While there is a practical aspect to this fantasizing and I could use more space, much of the time I'm just doing it to avoid whatever reality is asking me to experience at any given moment.

Happy New Year

It's a Wonderful Life (and movie)

I'm one of the few people in this country that never saw Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life until recently.

In this 1946 classic movie, Jimmy Stewart plays the part of George Bailey, a young man who lives in the unremarkable town of Bedford Falls and works for his father's fledgling but well-intentioned and socially conscious Building and Loan.

George is a young man with dreams of leaving Bedford Falls and traveling to distant lands--and this is brilliantly illustrated in a scene where he is in a small local store choosing a suitcase that will be large enough to accommodate all of the stickers (Paris, London, Baghdad) he'll be sure to collect as he travels around the globe in search of adventure, excitement, and true fulfillment--all of the things he assumes he can never find in his home town.

Circumstances repeatedly railroad him into staying right where he is—in Bedford Falls—despite his intense desire to escape and be something other than what he already is. He dreams of doing something big and important and special, and he’s convinced that his small town existence is holding him back from being truly happy. He forgoes going to college so his brother can and eventually gets stuck running the Building and Loan after his father dies.

On Christmas Eve he hits rock bottom. The Building and Loan is busted because his uncle misplaces $8,000 and George sees no way to escape being put into prison as a result.

When he's about to jump off a bridge, an angel named Clarence comes to his rescue. Clarence shows George what the world would have been like had he not been born at all—and this becomes a critical revelation for Mr. Bailey. George gradually realizes what an incredible life he really had, right there in Bedford Falls, and all of the things he experienced as burdens before now seem precious and irreplaceable.

Just when he thinks he’s lost everything, he realizes that in fact he already has it all—everything he needs—and this becomes overwhelmingly clear when the entire town comes together and raises enough money for him that Christmas Eve to help him avoid his impending arrest.

We’re all George Bailey when we try to escape life just as it is in search of something better. We delude ourselves into thinking that if only we had a better job or lived in a better place or had more money, we’d be happy or happier or somehow better off. And when we do this we miss out on the sacredness of each moment and the uniqueness of our lives, just as they are with all of their problems and imperfections.

There is nothing better than life just as it is. There is nothing “over there” that can bring about any more happiness than what we have “over here.” The enlightenment we all seek is right under our noses.

May we all really understand this one day and realize what wonderful lives we already have.

Merry Christmas.

The REAL Secret

I just posted this on some bulletin board which is a forum for people who follow "The Secret." A few weeks ago a woman from our sangha mentioned that she had dabbled with the concepts espoused by The Secret movie and book. Fortunately a Buddhist teacher reminded her that "avoiding negative people" is fruitless and that we all need to learn to deal with negative people, events, and situations.

About two years ago I watched the Secret movie and read the book.

What I have discovered since then is that when we spend so much time and energy trying to "manifest" what we want, all we are really doing is constantly pushing happiness into the future, and always just out of reach, because we are basing it on receiving what it is we think we want or need rather than learning to accept things and embrace them just as they are in the here and now.

Happiness is right here and right now, and no amount of material things will ultimately bring us the kind of contentment we are all looking for--things change constantly and nothing lasts forever.

Developing a daily meditation practice and learning about Buddhism has helped me realize this. The Buddha is quoted (somewhat irresponsibly) in the Secret movie about "what you think you become" and this is misleading. His main message was that we all have the tools right now at this moment to be happy (just as we are), and enlightenment is simply being fully present for your life right here and now just as it is. He did not suggest that we need to visualize a better or richer or thinner or married version of ourselves.

The Secret does put some emphasis on having an "attitude of gratitude" but the overwhelming message is that we all need and want things that we don't have, and true happiness is just around the corner, provided we visualize and believe and manifest these "things" that will supposedly make us somehow more complete.

We are complete already.

I truly hope that you can learn to appreciate yourself and your life exactly as it is right now. I don't say this out of malice or judgment or any ill will, I am just distressed at how many people feel that they need anything other than what they now have to be happy. We are all just fine exactly as we are right now, and until we learn that, we'll never truly be happy and fulfilled.

Thankful For This Wonderful Life

My practice has enabled me to see my life more directly and to be involved in it more fully. I'm far from enlightened but there is a measurable difference in the way I react and respond to things today as opposed to how I did just one or two years ago.

I am so grateful to at least begin to understand that joy and contentment can only be experienced when they aren't continually being pushed into the future. And when I'm mindful and present and embrace what is happening completely (regardless of how pleasurable, painful or boring it is) I get these small glimpses of the sacredness that is built into every aspect of this life and it's awesome.

Happiness is constantly staring us in the face but we often move through our days as if we're walking through a beautiful forest with a sack over our heads. We get so wrapped up in what we think are big problems and the moment we "solve" one we're already on to the next and in the process we miss a huge chunk of our lives.

Whenever I leave the hospice I am thankful that I can walk around freely and not be confined to a bed. I am thankful that I can exist without the aid of an oxygen machine or the loneliness or the constant pain and fear that many of the residents feel every single day.

I am so lucky to live in New York City and have a terrific apartment and an incredibly loving and supportive boyfriend and my health and fresh strawberries every night and the ability to sit and be still once a day.

May we all be free from suffering and its causes, and may all of us wake up to the happiness that constantly surrounds us.

Buddhism and Gay Marriage

From the Level 8 Buddhist Blog:

With the recent controversy in California over gay marriage, I thought I would explore the subject. I usually stay out of politics because I don’t want to get my head chopped off, but the comic above really expresses my sentiment (and I am a huge fan of Sinfest anyways). I can’t quite understand why we make a bold and progressive decision to elect Obama as President (and I am thankful we did), but many in California who voted for him voted against gay marriage citing “religious reasons”. This post is to explore the subject of gay marriage from the Buddhist perspective.

Read the entire article HERE

Also the Buddhist Churches of America newsletter has an article about Rev. Briones, a Jodo Shinshu Mexican American Minister who wrote about his experience officiating the wedding of George Takei (Mr. Sulu from Star Trek).

See it the article entitled EQUALITY FOR ALL HERE

Basics of Zen Teaching Past and Present

Zen Buddhism is a branch of Mahayana Buddhism, and the basis is of the Mahayana sutras, written in India and China. The most important among them include lankavatara sutra, diamond sutra, heart sutra and a chapter in Lotus sutra. Also notable are the following points about Zen:

1) The basics of Zen teachings also include the fundamental elements of Buddhist philosophy. The eightfold path, four noble truths, five skandhas and three dharma seals are included in Zen teachings. However, the teachings in Zen tradition are restricted only to Mahayana Buddhism.

Read more HERE

Zen Death Poems

A death poem (辞世の句 jisei no ku?) is a poem written near the time of one's own death. It is a tradition for literate people to write one in a number of different cultures, especially in Japan. Writing death poems is done by both Chinese, Korean, and Japanese Zen monks (writing either Chinese style poetry kanshi, waka or haiku), and by many haiku poets, as well as those who wish to write one.

Minamoto Yorimasa2
1104-1180

Like a rotten log
half buried in the ground -
my life, which
has not flowered, comes
to this sad end.


Shiaku Nyûdo5
d.1333

Holding forth this sword
I cut vacuity in twain;
In the midst of the great fire,
a stream of refreshing breeze!


Hôjô Ujimasa1
1538-1590

Autumn wind of eve,
blow away the clouds that mass
over the moon's pure light
and the mists that cloud our mind,
do thou sweep away as well.
Now we disappear,
well, what must we think of it?
From the sky we came.
Now we may go back again.
That's at least one point of view.

Caregiving with Prayer

Yesterday was the 2nd monthly Saturday of chaplaincy training with the Zen Center for Contemplative Care. A lot of the day was spent discussing the power of prayer and its place in chaplaincy work. The three teachers (Koshin, Chodo and Trudi Jinpu) had us talk about our concepts of God, since most in the group don't necessarily believe in the Christian version of God, and many are atheists.

The day helped me realize that we have to put the patient's needs and belief system before our own and not get into some self-indulgent philosophizing about our own sense of God or the lack thereof. I have no problem reciting the Lord's Prayer or a Hail Mary if that is what someone can best relate to (12 years of Catholic School has left those prayers permanently imprinted in my head).

A few of my classmates expressed some concern about how to devise a prayer (especially one that reflects a person's anger) and this is how I see it: just imagine a situation where friend A needs to express something to friend B but A has elected you to be the messenger.

Just being with the patient and either addressing the "Lord" if that's appropriate for them, or making a general intention or statement of understanding about their pain can offer a lot of relief. (May you be free from pain and the root of pain...May you be free from suffering and the root of suffering...May you be happy...")

Ending the prayer with some sort of reasonable request (again, just let the patient be your guide) should do the trick. It doesn't have to be poetic or rhymey, just authentic. Everyday language will do just fine.

If you listen enough you can tell what is foremost on someone's mind and what aspect of their life could use a little healing. It's the job of a Chaplain to put that into words and offer some degree of hope to the patient.

12 Essential Rules to Live More Like a Zen Monk

I just found a very cool article--you can read the whole piece HERE

1. Do one thing at a time. This rule (and some of the others that follow) will be familiar to long-time Zen Habits readers. It’s part of my philosophy, and it’s also a part of the life of a Zen monk: single-task, don’t multi-task. When you’re pouring water, just pour water. When you’re eating, just eat. When you’re bathing, just bathe. Don’t try to knock off a few tasks while eating or bathing. Zen proverb: “When walking, walk. When eating, eat.”

2. Do it slowly and deliberately. You can do one task at a time, but also rush that task. Instead, take your time, and move slowly. Make your actions deliberate, not rushed and random. It takes practice, but it helps you focus on the task.

3. Do it completely. Put your mind completely on the task. Don’t move on to the next task until you’re finished. If, for some reason, you have no choice but to move on to something else, try to at least put away the unfinished task and clean up after yourself. If you prepare a sandwich, don’t start eating it until you’ve put away the stuff you used to prepare it, wiped down the counter, and washed the dishes used for preparation. Then you’re done with that task, and can focus more completely on the next task.

4. Do less. A Zen monk doesn’t lead a lazy life: he wakes early and has a day filled with work. However, he doesn’t have an unending task list either — there are certain things he’s going to do today, an no more. If you do less, you can do those things more slowly, more completely and with more concentration. If you fill your day with tasks, you will be rushing from one thing to the next without stopping to think about what you do.

CONTINUED HERE >>>

The Wave and the Ocean

The Heart of Understanding is a short book by Thich Nhat Hahn that offers a simple and insightful commentary on the Heart Sutra.

One of the most confusing parts of the dharma (at least for me) is the paradox of "form is emptiness; emptiness is form".

”Form is emptiness, emptiness is form”.

Thich Nhat Hanh explains form and emptiness this way:…Form is the wave and emptiness is the water…So “form is emptiness, emptiness is form” is like wave is water, water is wave…”

By emptiness we mean that all things are empty of an inherent existence.

To understand this better, consider a glass bowl. We refer to it as empty if there is no food or liquid inside of it. But there is always something inside of it--like air and light for example. So from a physical perspective the bowl is always full of something or other.

But from the Buddhist point of view, the bowl lacks an inherent existence. That doesn't mean that the bowl does not exist, but that its existence as a bowl is dependent upon many other factors and a highly specific set of conditions. Its characteristics don't make it what it is-the glass, the round shape, and the diameter are all qualities of it but no single one of them makes the bowl a bowl. A half of a coconut can serve the same function as a bowl but it is still called a coconut. Other things made of glass are not bowls, they can be many other things like drinking glasses or cups.

Viewing it this way, there is nothing about our bowl in question that is intrinsic to that bowl or any other bowl. The glass material doesn't make it a bowl, nor does its roundness. Its existence depends on several things, because it is interdependent with everything else. In order to be a bowl, it must possess a number of simultaneously existing qualities and conditions. If one of these conditions is tampered with or no longer exists (i.e. it breaks into fifty pieces) then our bowl is not necessarily a bowl anymore since a major aspect of the conditions that contribute to its "bowlness" is no longer in place.

This tells us that the bowl's very existence is completely dependent upon outer circumstances.

Bowls, and everything else in the universe, are empty.