Category Archives: Overcome Difficulties

On Creativity

Here is a link to a talk on the nature of genius and how we regard that in our society. The talk is by Elizabeth Gilbert whose recent best selling book Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman’s Search for Everything Across Italy, India and Indonesia has brought her much acclaim. In the talk she ponders on why it is that creative people tend to die young, and often tragically.

Thanks Julius for the link.

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Permeable Being

Here is Brenda’s reflections on what she refers to as the permeable being.

I don’t know which came first, the sense that time isn’t consecutive or the understanding that there is vast space when ego-voice stops trying to run the show.

A couple or more months back I was stuck. You know the place, – that morass of doubts and resentments, where it is so easy to get bogged down. I heard in my head, You stand in your own shadow. Look inwards. To my shame my first response was irritation, a kind of I don’t know how, and even if I did, what use would it be, and then, to my surprise it became, albeit grudgingly, Alright then, I’ll try. Not exactly a whole hearted response but the Eternal is patient and somehow it freed things up.

In Rules for Meditation it says, Look inwards and advance directly along the road that leads to the Mind. At one level I understood what this was pointing to, but then there was the stubborn ego-me who tried to work out the how’s and why’s and wanted there to be a logical explanation, a kind of road map. It always seemed that the Inward space would be limited and when I tried Looking in a literal way it was like coming to a dead end. And then something remarkable occured. It was as if the questioning voice left and the ME that you and all the monks are talking to, guiding, – the Buddha-me I guess – could come into its’ own so to speak. Going inward just happened and I saw limitless space and I realised that there was no inside or outside. In a manner of speaking neither was there a me.

Given the unreliability of my memory I wrote the following as each thing showed itself so that I wouldn’t forget.

The “Space” outside and the “Space” inside is not different.
I do not have to go “outside” in order to move,
nor is going “inside” a not moving.
This being is permeable.
There is neither “Inside” nor “Outside”.
All is one.

Later I added the next bit. It kind of came up to be looked at. It feels OK but still, I’d like you to check it.

IT is not out there to be aimed for, reached for, searched for.
IT is already here, inside, waiting to be found.
I don’t attain IT, like a prize,
IT gives Itself freely, to all beings,
Including me.

With Bows,

In answer…I’ve not much to say to be honest. We have talked in person, you have taken Refuge, which is good. As with everything that comes, and especially insights into fundamental truths, it’s so important to just keep on a goin’. While at the same time, and this is especially important, not dismiss what comes to you as being the product of an over active imagination. So what does one do, what does anybody do with such insights? File away for a rainy day to get out and have beautiful memories? We both know that isn’t what’s good, of course. My advice is to just keep on going, and don’t look back. And when you do seem to, remember it is just the past coming into the present – to teach.

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Where Did I Go?

I’ve know Brenda for a very long time. We often talk together about meditation and practice. She is a gem. A gem among gems. Who is not a gem, glowing in the darkness.

I’m always encouraging people to reflect, and writing can be a useful tool to aid reflection. In the process of writing new insights can emerge. Here is an example of reflection on experience and the emergence of understanding through the process of writing. OK, I did apply a bit of pressure to get her writing! As a correspondent mentioned in an email this morning, in response to asking her to start writing, I would like to give it a try (and sometimes pressure is good, innit?) She’s another natural.

You remember when we talked and I told you that I felt as if I had lost something, and I didn’t know what it was? Well, at the time we talked I couldn’t make any sense of this, and the temptation was to dismiss the whole thing as over-active imagination. It was an uncomfortable feeling you know, – to be aware that something integral had gone and to be unable to access it. You asked if this worried me and as I considered the question I realised that there was fear around and also a recognition that to go down that path would simply confuse the issue. As we talked I recognised my habitual tendency to spiral down (mentally and physically), so your suggestion, Think up! was very timely and I used it as a means of dealing with the disquiet and by the time I went home the feeling of loss had abated and I think I was enjoying the post-retreat period.

Yesterday a whole lot of stuff presented itself to be looked at. I realised that what I had lost was the internal dialogue and thus the persona who constantly wants to explain itself to itself, the whatever that never rests, that re-establishes itself on every re-awakening. Middle of the night awake, and almost before the feet touch the floor this internal ego-me is in dialog with itself, re-establishing its’ identity, re-recognising itself, re-assuring it-self that it still exists. I found my-self scrabbling around, trying to solidify, desperate to anchor itself. This is where it gets a bit difficult. It’s like I knew I’d lost something and it was frightening because I didn’t know what and now I knew and it was even more frightening because where had the familiar voice gone and how would I manage without it?

To add to the confusion is the recognition that without the internal voice there is peace, there is space. Once I had let the disquiet of not knowing go, every thing was OK. Now I know again and this time I have to find a way to embrace the so frightened me and be willing to let it go. And it is scary stuff and I know I may have gone too far in my thoughts. And I wonder if there is a connection here with the permeable being?
With Bows,
Brenda

In answer to your question, yes I think it would be a good idea for you to further contemplate, what you have described to me in the past as the permeable being.

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Opening Things Up

I have a tendency, I guess we all have, to close down any thoughts and feelings about something that happens into one, usually quite judgmental, opinion.

So, the comment: I can imagine the way you live must be very relaxing, not worrying about anyone else, had led to some pretty negative judgments of my own suitability to be telling people about what Buddhism means in practice.

This process can be justified to ourselves as a focusing on what is really going on – when it actually feels a lot like a closing down of seeing things. If in response to this I can reverse the process and instead open up the associated insights and realisations that come when we just look and ask – then what do I find?

Well, I yes wonder if I gave a misleading impression on the extent to which, as Buddhists, we care about others;

and: this was the only comment out of a large bundle that I was picking up on, and conceivably the only one with which I could find a way of criticising myself;

and: maybe my fear of being misunderstood isn’t really about being understood or not at all but is actually about being judged and criticised and thought to be hopeless;

and: I remembered a question during the class which went something like ‘isn’t it unfriendly to sit and face a wall with your backs to the the people who you are meditating with” – what a good question! and my answer was something about how we have to work on our own stuff and not worry about what other people are doing AND that somehow this helps us all and doesn’t feel like we are cutting them off;

and: maybe that was what she meant and maybe there is a sense in which we don’t have to worry about other people even when we are helping them;

and: I remember being 12 and worrying a lot about what other people thought and felt, and isn’t that sad; and in fact isn’t it sad that I still worry a lot about what people think; and wouldn’t it be a relief not to carry this burden of worry and related fear.

and: it goes on.. and on…

And I find myself with this collection of perspectives and insights all laid out in front of me, and somehow the original concern seems to dissolve.

I used to think of this opening up process as a bit like following a thread that would lead somewhere, and often it did lead to thoughts and feelings long buried and not acknowledged. And thinking of it like that seems now to be too closed mind again – looking too much for some single underlying cause. So now I think of it much more like pulling a thread and the whole jumper just unraveling.

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Misunderstandings?

I have had a lifelong fear of being misunderstood. Perhaps then it was no accident that the large part of my professional life was spent studying and trying to overcome the ways in which misunderstanding arises between people, within organisations and across social groups. Unfortunately one of the consequences of this was that things I wrote were so meticulously precise that, while there was little room left for misunderstanding, this was mainly because no one could comprehend any of it in the first place. Perhaps this is why I ended up working with lawyers.

Over the last ten years I have relaxed a lot and started to accept misunderstanding as an inevitable consequence of communication. And partly to appreciate that we often can’t hold ourselves responsible for how people interpret what we say. Anyway, contributing to this site has re-awakened much of my previous fear – the potential for being misunderstood in this context could be quite vertigo inducing.

So I wanted to share with you one of the letters I recently received. I have been giving a class in Buddhism to some 12 year olds at local schools – they have been studying Buddhism and their teachers thought it would be good for the students to see a real life Buddhist and have chance to ask questions. So far I have given my talk to, and answered hoards of questions from, about 160 very lively students. Some time after one of the classes I received a large bundle of enthusiastic letters from the students expressing their thanks and describing what they liked about the sessions – it was truly heartwarming to receive. Amongst them – and in an enthusiastic, warm and supportive letter – one of the students had written:

I can imagine the way you live must be very relaxing, not worrying about anyone else.

Well heck, I thought, what on earth did I say that made them think I didn’t’t worry about anyone else? Had I given the impression that Buddhism didn’t care about others? – and should I give up trying to explain Buddhism altogether if I could be so misleading? It almost seemed on a par with the memorable line from the film A Fish Called Wanda: when Wanda tries to explain to Otto that The central message of Buddhism is not every man for himself.

Anyway, I told myself to forget about it and just get on with the next thing. But it has been niggling at me like these things often do when they have more to show. So I thought, with your (Mugo’s) voice echoing in my head, lets sit with this fear, lets look at it a bit closer, open it up and let the air in at it – let the rain fall on it a bit.

And that is what I’m doing – I’ll let you know how it goes.

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