Cushion Report: Christmas in the Woods

Here's a report from my meditation experiences on my most recent retreat. I'm not sure if I've explained before why I post the details of my inner life on the internet for all to see. So, first let me explain the reasoning and then on to the report.

The thing about meditation that I never understood before I actually did it is that it is real. There is a lot that goes on in the mind that has significant consequences on one's experience of life – much more than most people realize. When I mentioned my retreat to a friend recently, he joked: “My meditation is watching TV.” It was a good joke, and I laughed, but I was also reminded of what I used to think meditation was. I'm not sure what I thought it was, but I didn't understand why anyone prefer such an activity over something as enjoyable as watching TV.

However, the thing about the inner workings of meditation is that no one else knows what's going on if you don't talk about it. It's called the inner world because it is inaccessible to other people without the aid of descriptions and explanations straight from the person's mouth. So, in the spirit of understanding the nature of subjective experience, I like to share my experience and I like to hear about the experiences of others. It may be that someday the inner world is no longer shrouded in mystery and is as well known to humanity as the rest of the natural world.

So, let me begin. My memory is already fading, but I recall that for the first couple of days my mind was settling down significantly. I had a number of sits where I would walk to the hall thinking “I have no idea what's going to happen, and I don't even think I know what to do.” And, then I would sit, and my attention would go the breath, and I would become very very calm. By the end of the sit, I was quite at peace.

This deepening of concentration was a theme at different points through the retreat. At one point, I hit a stage which the mind was so naturally with the breath that it would've taken effort to place the mind elsewhere. The way I would describe it is that applied and sustained effort dropped away and the mind just stayed put. The Buddha talked about “applied and sustained effort,” but I don't know if he meant the same thing as me. I'm using the words just in a literal sense of applying and sustaining effort.

Also worth noting were a few moments interspersed throughout the retreat where thinking really started to drop away. I was quite surprised by such an experience, because it was so different to be aware in a way where thoughts aren't arising. All that was there were sensations, arising and passing. However, these no-thought moments were very brief (like maybe a second). I remembered back to an event that occurred a couple of years ago in which I woke up from a dream to find myself in a very deep thoughtless state of consciousness and this lead to an instant reaction of fear. In that moment, it was a great fear that I didn't exist. So, I take it as a good sign of improvement that I can now access a similar state without any averse reactions.

Turning the mind toward insight, I found my mind being blown quite a few times throughout the retreat. There were many moments of “no way! Whaaa??!,” as I discovered more and more layers of experience which had been shrouded in delusion. I may say that things certainly were not the way I thought they were. Over and over again. Yet, I set my mind to push onward and keep practicing through every precious moment of the retreat.

There were times during which the practice was revealed to me with stunning clarity, and it all seemed so simple. All that was needed was to just remain aware of what's happening right now. It seemed so simple. As attention grew more and more attuned to the direct and ever changing experience of right now, things began to synchronize and settle. As the mind began to cloud again, and things became unknown and confusing, there was faith to keep going just being aware of the moment as it arises and as it passes. And, with time, these chunks of unknown experience would also begin to dissolve and break apart, bringing insight and understanding.

I have often thought of there being a moment in the retreat at which time I can say to myself: “this was worth the money.” Of course, with this retreat, and all Goenka retreats, there is no money to pay, so it is purely a metaphorical expression. What it means to me is that all of the time, effort, and expenses of every kind were worth it for the benefit of the insights I gained here. Usually, I experience this early on in the retreat, and then get several more days of bonus value after that. This high return on investment may explain why I keep going back for more. During this retreat, I remember some profound insights occurred on day 4 that made it all worthwhile for me. I thought to myself, “this was worth the money.” Then, a number of times on the days to come, I got exponentially more out of the retreat than just those piddly first four days.

It is hard to explain what I got, however. The best I can say is that when I have been walking around for years inside a very deeply embedded delusion or illusion, and then all of a sudden it is seen for what it really is.... these can be the kinds of things that could take years, decades or lifetimes to come across without the tool of meditation.

I understand if this is vague and I don't have any more specifics, but I think I can muster a simple example of what I'm talking about by delusion. Let's say there is a thought which says “I want xyz. Therefore, I want to try to get xyz in the future.” This thought may be so deeply embedded into the background of experience that I never notice that it is a thought. Instead, I think that I actually want xyz, and that I'm actually just going to try to get it. This doesn't seem like a thought; it seems like reality. Then, one day on retreat, perhaps I see the thought arise and pass, like a cloud in the sky. It is empty, it is conditioned, it is just a transitory wave across my mind. It has no reality. The thought vibration of this present moment, this is the reality. “Right now there is thinking.” This is the reality, and, in my understanding, this is awakening. It's a marvelous process.

As I neared day 9, my attention became a bit tumultuous and filled again with thoughts of the future. Nonetheless, I kept at the practice until the very last minute of the last meditation hour while on retreat. I continued to break new ground. Even as we began to speak to others I was gaining valuable insights and maturing in my understanding of being human.

Through it all, I still feel a bit dumbfounded and amazed. I feel like such a beginner and so clueless about the whole thing. I am ready to keep going.

Cushion Report: November Noting Practice

I spent the last few days on meditation retreat at home with the intention to do rigorous noting practice (vipassana) morning to night with a bigger picture goal of trying to solve this human condition I find myself in. This is an edited report of what I experienced and some things I noticed in the practice. Hopefully it may be of some use to someone out there reading it, or if you have a comment to add, please let me know.

With regards to the noting practice specifically, I was inspired a phrase I read recently: “keep going with this single-minded no-brains-required noting task,” from a meditation teacher named Tarin. After reading that, I decided to try a dumbed-down noting practice... to really suck all the brains out of it, so to speak... just to see what would happen. I liked the initial results and decided to give it a test run on a three-day retreat.

My formal noting practice moves incredibly slow, as I find the actual skill of creating verbal notes in my mind to be one which probably must be developed like a muscle. I would say that I was able to note at a rate of about 1-2 notes per second for about 60% of the day on day 1. That number fell to about 30% of the day on day 2, and about 40% of the day on day 3. The rate never went much slower than 1-2 per second, unless I got restless, tense, or stressed in which case I would lose focus so much that I would slow down as much as to 1 per 10 minutes or so. But, luckily my actualism practice has really cut back the amount of time I spend being restless, tense or stressed. And, that enabled me to enjoy the process enough to be able to maintain this more rapid noting pace (1-2 per second). Any attempt to go faster than 2 per second usually resulted in a blur where I would again lose focus and my noting would have no correlation to what was actually being experienced.

That was for what I might call my “formal” or “conscious” noting practice. Now, also in the “background” so to speak, I was often noticing at a rate of perhaps 10-20 per second. And what I mean by that is that, given all the mindfulness training I've already done, my mind sometimes automatically becomes mindful of experience at a very rapid pace. But, I could hardly say that “I was noting.” It seems more accurate to say that experience arises and I notice it with some clarity and precision at a rate of about 10-20 notices per second. Perhaps I could call this “noticing” practice. This is more of a background, and automatic awareness practice that seems like a blend of Goenka and a lot of the other awareness stuff I've done in the past.

Overall, it still seems to me that the most effective vipassana practice that I've done so far isn't noting or body-scanning, but more along the lines of what Christopher Titmuss taught when I was on retreat with him, and that was to take a genuine interest in what's happening right now. I say this, because I try to really inquire what is working here and what isn't? What is the actual vipassana technique? How can I actually get Vipassana to work full-time – and not have it occasionally become some lifeless task?

I think it comes back to sincerity again. Vipassana seems to be a certain blend of awareness and involvement which leads to the moment in which experience is just seen for what it is – completely, and clearly. And, it seems that getting that blend just right is a matter of sincerity more than a matter of technique. I could be wrong, I suppose, but I just can't seem to figure it out any other way. To put this into context, I'd say rather than I was noting 60% of the day on day 1, it'd be more accurate that perhaps I had a sincere alignment with Vipassana for 60% of the day on day 1. Make sense?

Overall, my experience is that the noting technique is useful, perhaps even more so than body-scanning, but the biggest barrier to success doesn't seem to lie in which technique is used, but the barrier to success is in actually doing the technique. That is still the greatest mystery for me... how to actually do the doing of the technique? Or, how to do the doing of the practice? I find it incredibly frustrating, and also somewhat fascinating in it's mystery. Right now, it seems that I just seem to go through some kind of natural cycle where all of a sudden, things align and boom... I'm actually doing the technique... and then all of a sudden boom... it's gone and I'm just trying to do the technique. And, then I try and try and try and nothing works and then all of a sudden boom... I'm doing it.... and then boom... I'm not doing it. What I would love is to be able to just turn it on, let it go and do the thing until it's done. But, I haven't yet discovered how to do that. Maybe I'm way off here.

Regarding the fruit of the practice, I'm still uncertain as to what exactly the effect is on my psyche. Clearly this practice brings awareness and dispels illusions. Both of those are most welcome. Clearly the awareness gained leads to greater sensibility. But, what's still unclear for me is with regards to the human condition within myself (fear, misery, anger, malice, greed, hatred, delusion, etc.). Does this practice lead to freedom from the human condition via dis-identification with impermanent phenomenon, and therefore to take the juice out of fear, misery, anger, malice, etc.? Or does it actually bring these phenomenon to an end, such that they no longer arise? I'd prefer the later. The inquiry for me continues not just into what is it that makes vipassana work?... but also what does vipassana do? And for that matter all other kinds of meditation, etc. Whatever the results, I'm quite throughly enjoying the journey and the process of discovery as it continues to unfold.

As a side note, I can see how concentration (the act of focusing on a given task) is crucial for success in any of these endeavors. Without being able to stay with the task at hand, I doubt success would be possible. My practice over the last few days shows me once again that concentration can lead to an incredible quality of mind. The mind becomes cleaner, quieter, more penetrating, more peaceful, happier, blissful even, and more capable of intelligence and discernment with whatever task is presented.

Also, a concentrated mind seems to have the ability to produce some pretty altered states of consciousness, and the associated delusions with those states of consciousness. Perhaps another way to put it seems concentration can bring a much greater sense of realism to the imagination. An ordinary imagination becomes a vivid 3-D full body fantasy with some strong concentration. And, an ordinary passion becomes a vivid mind-blowing ecstatic passion with strong concentration. So, concentration seems to have more of an intensifying effect which may or may not be helpful depending on how it is used.

The ordinary every day concentration born of sincere interest and genuine intent seems sufficient for most inquiry, but the power of a strongly concentrated mind can't be denied either. And, that seems to be the kind of thing that is only generated through some amount of sustained practice (like on retreat).

Still, the burning inside of me to know, to discover, to inquire, to get to the bottom of this, and to get it done... well... that's still there. It hasn't gone anywhere, although I think I could gladly say that some of the emotional stress and conflict over this expedition has lessened – making it both more enjoyable and more functional.

What to do with my time? I haven't been meditating as much lately, and this is actually the first meditation retreat I've done in a while now. I mostly have been doing meditation practice as an eyes-open thing throughout the day, or in bed at night and in the morning. I'm still re-evaluating the usefulness of retreat time, and if I spend more time with eyes-open practice and less time on the cushion, it will definitely open up the question... what to do with my time?

I guess I'm still discovering the answer to that question. Whatever the case, it is certainly a joy to be alive on this planet, isn't it?

Going Beyond Beauty

I woke up this morning, feeling fresh, well rested. I looked across the room to the blue curtain hanging by the brown wooden window frame. The contrast of bright blue on woody brown was stunning and I decided to linger with my attention there for a minute. As I continued to enjoy this vivid display of color, a sense of beauty arose in me.

"That's beautiful," I thought to myself, while looking at this vivid blue on brown arrangement of light.

"Ah, beauty!" I thought to myself next. I had been eagerly awaiting a chance to explore this beauty thing in greater depth. What is this thing we call beautiful? I investigated inwardly with an attentive curiousity. Ah, yes... beauty is a feeling, an emotion!

It sounds strange even writing it now, but in the moment it's so clear. Beauty is my enjoyment of my concept about the show of light I was watching. It's a sorta inward vibing with myself and my own thought "this is beautiful." Because I have concieved that I'm observing a "beautiful thing," I can experience a sorta inward pleasure with myself. Because "I" am witnessing the beauty, and because "I" am a part of this beauty - I get a warm pleasure inside. In essence, the beauty wouldn't even exist if not for "me!" and what a wonderful boost this is for "me."

"Ah, yes... this is what I've been calling "beauty." What a waste! Let me throw that out," I thought next. The absurdity of it required no further investigation. "Now, let me see what this experience actually is," I continued with the inquiry. What is this blue and brown? What is this seeing? What are these sensations in my eyeballs which are percieving color - vibrant, active, radiating.

I continued to look at the colors with the directness of my actual eyes. Abandoning the safe space behind the eyes where I could sit and observe - the safe space where "I" still exist. I lept forward, into the colors themselves, into my eyeballs, into the sensations. The colors were the sensations, the curtains were the colors, my eyes were the sensing. The sensing was active. These colors were not dead, lifeless, inert. These colors were now! These colors, the actual experience, was actually happening. Light entering eyeballs, a selection of wavelengths percieved by the sensitive apparatus of the visual organ. Each wavelength unique and distinct by it's very factual existence. The sensing was the most intimate and direct contact with these already existant colors.

Delight would be a small understatement. Pleasure fits well. What a joy these colors were. The joy was the sensing - there was no gap. No sensing first and then enjoying. The sensing was the enjoying. Sensuosness. The pure pleasure of unadulterated sensing. Actual color, actual light.

It was clear that I had left the territory known as the beautiful and was now traveling in a new landscape. This landscape was completely unknown as it's existence was only in the present moment. There was no way to have been there before, thus no way to have known it previously.

What was "beauty" had now opened up into a new world of sight and seeing. Beauty had fallen by the wayside. Things still held some resemblence to that old image of beauty. The experience was still fascinating, scintillating, vibrant, stunning, wondrous, active and dynamic. The pleasure of it had only increased if anything. But, beautiful? A far cry. Such a personal and self-referential adjective couldn't possibly describe this experience which was so much more than "I" could ever be.

Ah... time passed and I sat down thinking, "maybe I should write about that experience." I began to reflect on it (as I'm also reflecting on it now while typing.)

Reflecting thus, "going beyond beauty. What a wonderful experience," I began again to tune into my experience. This time I sat at my computer, music playing, soft light coming in through the blinds.

"Ah, yes. It's still here." *IT* being the actual universe as experienced through the sense organs. It is still here indeed! Ha!

I hear the music and once again take the leap. The leap into the sensations themselves, free from my self. The music surrounds me, it approaches from every angle, as I sit in the music itself - In the hearing, at the exact point of dynamic contact. The colors blend with sound, as it all becomes just raw sensation. This time the pleasure nears overwhelm, and literally knocks the breath out of me. I recoil to catch my breath. Physical waves of pleasure move through the entirety of my body.

This is new.

I've never ventured this far out before - this far beyond "the beautiful."

Habitual reactions come up. Mostly fear. "Oh, this is too much," and "oh, I can't take this," and "I can't handle this," and "this isn't good," etc.

I pause and consider the facts: Well, certainly I wouldn't live very long if I'm not breathing, so catching my breath is a sound idea. But, having the breath knocked out of me is just a startle response to the rather surprising stimuli of such intense pleasure. There's nothing about the pleasure itself that is overwhelming. Ok, excuse diverted.

I continued the inquiry. "Could I live there forever?" And the next fear became clear: "Ah... but it will consume all of me. Like a black hole, it will absorb me completely." And for some reason this seems "scary"? The scariness of it evades me at this moment. A flurry of other reactions and resistance shows it's head - all of it unfounded in any sort of sensibility.

It's like a tin can called "beauty" was sitting on my shelf and I naively decided to open it. "Experience" popped out, and now there's no getting it back in. In fact, I'm not sure I can even find the can anymore.

I sit, continuing to type. Yes, there is still work to do. This isn't, at all, the end of the journey, but the end of this little tale. A tale which continues on as this moment, "this only moment of being alive."

Cushion Report: Mind Like Honey

Waking up this morning, Day 4 of my little retreat, I notice an interesting blend of feelings inside. Something I've noticed before is a feeling of inner growth and deepening, like I'm a little bit older than when I started (and not just three days worth). That feeling's not too uncommon for me after a retreat. Sometimes it can seem like an entire lifetime passes in those few days of silence. And a lifetime of wisdom is available in those days as well. I'm not holding my breath for that feeling to last however - and wouldn't it be kind of *immature* of me if I did? he he.

I feel strangely defeated, while also refreshed and alive. Vibrant happy and awake, and also completely without hope. I would say humility and grace, although the word "humility" is overshooting it a bit. Like I said, it's an interesting blend this morning (I tried to capture the feeling in the photo to the left).

I set myself up with my last blog post, so I suppose I better have something to say about all that. As predicted, nothing went as planned. Wonderful. As I reflect on the experimental parameters, the techniques and procedures, and the overall hypothesis, I find that words aren't quite sufficient right now. In some respect, I practiced mindfulness as I set out to do, in the way that I described. But, in another respect, that seems to be only a small description of the big big picture. What I don't want to do here is be overly dramatic, though. For the most part, my days were really quite ordinary. I sat; I ate; I walked in the woods. And, I'm listening to the chanting of Anonymous 4 as I type right now, so I worry that the music might make me write in an even more dramatic tone.

What I can say is that there seems to be a very distinct shift occurring in my meditation practice. It's like a chameleon who changes to their environment, or like the way honey tastes different depending on the pollen which fed the bee. In fact, I really like that analogy right now. I think I'm experiencing the "mind like honey." (this sounds so "zen," so give me a second to get a little poetic) The mind like honey is the mind which recognizes the pollen which has given it flavor. Of course, there is a little "me" inside who would love to take credit for every flavor as though it were the master cook in a honey kitchen. But, no. Nature shapes nature. Or, at least, so it seems in this moment.

Anyway, during my six months at the California Vipassana Center, I was in a very tight container with strict rules and discipline, a schedule, a staff, a self-contained piece of land, and it was all very Buddhist. All that was allowed at the center was vipassana and the Buddhist scriptures and commentaries which supported the practice. Meditation had a more straightforward feel to it - "A" leads to "B" leads to "C." There was a path, a practice, and a goal. It was wonderful.

Once in India, meditation took on a new flavor. With the unavoidable influence of Hinduism and Indian culture in general, things took on a more mystical feel. While spending time with community, but also traveling alone on the road, there was a mixing, and an expansiveness. It was also wonderful.

Now, it seems something different is occurring here in Felton, CA. I'm not sure I can say what it is yet. In fact, I fear I'd be a bit presumptuous to even take a guess, but the influence of reliance on my own discipline, and well, just being on my own in so many ways is starting a new current within me. Of course, I have dharma talks on my computer, lots of books to read, and even lots of really great dharma brothers, sisters, and mentors to call or email if I come onto a stumbling block. But, when I come home to this little cabin, it's just me. I could walk away at anytime, and there's absolutely no rule that I can't. In fact, I can't say that I've taken on any rules or discipline in my meditation time here, but rather I've just set intentions and then gone with the flow.

So, I'm getting a little embarrassed now, writing all this, even though I haven't said that much. It seems the most tender place is inside oneself in the quiet times. I sometimes wonder why I write all this on my blog at all, and I wonder if other people wonder that too. Maybe it's best not to try to figure that one out.

The bottom line of what I'm trying to say is that I don't really have anything to say. This cushion report is just not going to be very report-ish.

It's like this: Life... to be conscious... to be a living, sentient being... composed of the same elements as the trees, the stones, the earth, the sky, the sun... to be this living creature in this strange and curious world... and then... to think!... to have this constant movement called "thought" throughout one's mind...

All of this comes together and there comes from it this word "meditation."

What is that? What is this meditation thing? Where'd it come from? I mean, which galaxy did it fall down from? How is it that consciousness decides to explore itself? And how is it that this human being has come to a place of such distortion from it's elements in the first place? How is it that the elements of life want to know themselves? And, then... quite spontaneously... they start to write about it. Pudgy little fingers strike a keyboard in a quiet room attempting to spell out the inexplicable bizarreness of being what can't possibly be but what unavoidably is.

Whew... weird. I'll just leave it at that.

All is well.

Cushion Report: Not Too Easy

"Nothing is ever too easy in life - thank goodness. It's not good to have an easy life you know, no matter what they tell you. Life isn't easy. It's not meant to be easy. It's not meant to have easy answers."
- Christopher Titmuss

According to my plan for moving here to Felton, I had hoped to spend the weekdays on retreat at home. I just spent the last three days doing just that.

Overall, I'd say this experience was humbling and enlightening. Though, not enlightening in the majestic enlightened being sense... but more like it simply threw light on parts of my nature which were formerly in darkness. (And, perhaps they were in darkness for good reason.)

It was, as Christopher points out, not easy.

Being back in worldly life (job, home, etc.) I'm noticing old patterns of being that are coming back to life. Most namely is that old beast Stress. And with it comes Stress' seductive sidekick - Entertainment. This compulsive movement away from stress has come creeping back on the scene. All of this has made for quite an interesting unfolding drama.

On day 3 of my retreat, something unexpected happened. I started compulsively making art. Yes, quite compulsive. I couldn't stop myself, and I can't say it was all that pleasant either. It felt more like a desparate escape from the unknown that I was sinking into in meditation, rather than a bountiful expression of love. But, I must say that if I am going to have a compulsive vice - art is a pretty good one. Who would've thought!

I notice I've been inquiring lately into the nature of control. I must say that I quite enjoy the moments when I discover how truely out of control all of this is. Life, Me, etc. "Out of Control." - what a beautiful phrase. Even just the sound of those words seem to brighten my heart. What a full expression of what it means to be alive. Perhaps it could be said that to be alive is to be out of control. In fact, maybe that's why I seem to like mandalas so much lately. There's something so totally out of control about an intricate mandala, something that seems like it might never end. It could keep multiplying and multiplying with infinite variety.

And yet, there is also aspiration, intention, creativity, resolve... cause and effect. The patterns within the chaos. One thought can create endless heavens or endless rounds in hell (and boy, did I take a tour of some hell realms over the last couple days).

Technically speaking, my meditation remained mostly scattered for the three days. My mind didn't ever fully settle down. Likewise, there wasn't much "depth" to the exploration. But, on the flip side, I think I really got to explore some fields of experience which may have been absent over the last year of my homeless wandering - compulsion being just one of those.

Compulsion... hmmm... just a little conjecture here... it's nature is to capture us, take us away, break us of any choice or control. We become it's slave, utterly powerless. And, yet... it's whole motive is to impose control onto experience, to create and re-create the ordinary and the familiar, to keep us within the field of the known. We lose control to our own controling instinct. It kind of reminds me of operation Iraqi Freedom.

Anyway, judging by the way I'm writing, something must have opened up in me because I'm being all philosophical right now. But it definitely wasn't "how I wanted it to go" - Ha!

I'll put the rest of my compulsive art mandalas in another post.

Be well.

"The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes -- or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face
Lighting a little Hour or two -- is gone."

- Omar Khayyam

A Row Boat to Nowhere

"Truth be told, I don't really care.... 'cause we're all on a boat to nowhere." - Adyashanti

I had a friend visit me in Felton last week, and we listened to some Adyashanti together. I think we both agreed that the above quote was one of our favorites from what we listened to. Although I don't remember getting on this boat of life, I'm really enjoying my ride to nowhere, and I hope you are too.

It seems I've started to get into my rhythm now with my new California life. And even though I'm not going to be traveling again anytime soon, I must say that I enjoy my weekly drives through the redwoods of the Santa Cruz Mountains down the coast to the rolling hills and flat fields of Wattsonville's farmland and then up the east side of the bay to Berkeley and the wooded hills of Montclaire.

On the meditation front, I continue to learn about myself and about what it means to be human. I had some really intense dreams last night, many of which were quite lucid. At one point, I found myself in a room, but quite certain that it was a dream. I couldn't recall what my actual waking life room looked like, but knew that I was in a dream room instead. It was quite real however, and quite lucid - as real as any dream usually is. So, I began contemplating, "this is all a mental creation. I'm creating all of this right now. There is no substance to it, and no existence to it outside of my mind." It was cool to experience something so real and so external, yet to know it as pure mental formation... fabrication. It was vibrating and morphing quite a bit, as dreams usually do, but I just stayed in that dream room in fascination and awe. There was another dream in which I saw my own face, and I was speaking the words coming out of it, and thinking it's thoughts, but clearly observing it as "me outside of me" - all still quite lucid that this was conscious dream creation.

Like I said, it was a wild night. Recently, a friend suggested I write about my dreams here, so there ya go. Remaining conscious, mindful, and aware throughout the dream state definitely seems like a meditation for me, however I don't put too much importance into the content. Preferably, I would simply try to observe the physical and mental sensations that make up the dream-state itself, while allowing meaning to arise naturally if and when it may arise.

I'm planning to take the next couple days for meditation retreat at home here, so I'll be off-grid until Friday.

Be well.

ps. the photo above is the chair on my porch where I do meditation, eat meals, or just sit and listen to the birds.

Cushion Report: Fifty Days of Wu Wei

I like this word "wu wei." It's from the Chinese and is translated as non-doing, non-action, or non-interference. Maybe I like it because it reminds me of when I was about 21 and I fell in love with the Tao Te Ching. I still think if I had to be stuck on an island with only one book, I might choose that one.

The Master does nothing,
yet nothing is left undone.
A foolish man is always doing,
Yet much remains to be done.

- Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching (38)

As this story unfolds, you may see the significance of this concept, but let's start at the start. I didn't journal everyday, but rather every 5 days for the first 40 days and not at all while on the Goenka retreat (as per Goenka's rules.) So, this will be quite a condensed version of the vast lifetime of experience that occurs in 50+ days.

Day 0: By great fortune, the retreat began for me almost instantly upon my arrival, and by that I mean the inner process began. Within a few hours of just being on the gorgeous property, I found myself in deep surrender. I willingly gave up all expectations for the next 40 days and decided to just let whatever happens be whatever happens. It was like there wasn't a single drop of desire in me that could have imposed my will on the next 40 days. Or put another way, it was like looking at the trees, and the mountains and saying "I'm yours!" Thus, the retreat was underway.

Day 5: "Experience. Everything is experience. No control, no forcing, letting go. Layer after layer. At times wild ride, at times quite plain. Just being, just sitting, just walking."

I had an image of those folks you hear about in the cornfields of the mid-west who form welcoming crews for the aliens. I was the welcoming crew, except not for aliens but for the inner experience of Truth.

Day 10: "Lots of 'dream work.' The dream-life boundary not so strong. Powerful dreams, lucid dreams, deep states of knowing consciousness. Still enjoying myself."

The crisp immediate presence with moment-to-moment experience would come and go. My slogan became: "Don't force it." (Thanks Damian!) and with that I was experience a lot of ease.

Day 10 was a transition day because some people only came for 10 days and some people were arriving for the next 30. This turbulence proved to be the start of a new chapter in the retreat.

Day 15: "Long five days - seems like long time since I last wrote... just kinda walking around, eating, etc. Same 'ol same 'ol. Thinking a lot too... Mind/thought/figuring out, etc. is becoming more and more obvious of it's uselessness. Like unemployed mind - going out of business. More and more just being with direct experience.
'But it doesn't make sense' <-- exactly!
Not much "makes sense" to my mind over the last few days, but I'm just kinda going with it... Feels like waking up, but can't say that I totally enjoy it. I'm still really liking this idea: "slowly and quietly, just going about my day, going about the practice." No frills - simplicity - the simplest thing - Life."

The quote above "slowly and quietly..." was from an observation Christopher Titmuss made about the monks and nuns who seemed to make the most progress while he was in the monastery.

At this point, I wasn't really going on any "meditation instructions" so to speak. My practice basically looked like how I described it above, that simple.

Day 20: "Too much to write. Days 10-18 were tough - got in some mind loops... More trust in experience - less dependence on mental constructs... only 3 weeks left. he he..."

This trust comment in my journal is significant. Much of the retreat (and even my daily practice now) seems to be around learning to trust the actuality of my being rather than the self I think of myself as through mental images. A quick digression here...

Reading A.H. Almaas, it seems that ego psychology now posits that one reason we may have such a large brain which creates mental constructs, self-other images, and ultimately an ego, may be for the survival of the infant. That is to say that for an infant to be separated from his/her mother might be quite difficult to bear, but if the child has an image of "mother" in mind then no loss is detected.

The individual, that is the self-image, is supported psychically by the presence of the mother's image; thus the child does not feel alone when physically separate from the mother. He feels supported by the presence of the mother's image, which gives him the sense of security which allows him to be away from her, and makes it safer to regard her as an autonomous person.
- A.H. Almaas, The Pearl Beyond Price

The only problem is that this sense of security is based on an image and thus either one will always live life as an image or approximation of themselves, or this deeper insecurity must be addressed.

So, that's my digression, for which you can forgive me if it was overly-intellectual and wordy. In reality, I really was just kinda walking around, sitting, eating, and lying in bed.

"Day 25:
Sublime
Being as is. Listening inside.
I'm starting to hear myself.
She's calling me home.
"Trust," she says.
Trust.
Everyday, the mind game grows weaker.
I know the way.
Just Be. Just Be. Just Be."

Seeing as how my journal entry is a poem, and how I refer to myself in the feminine, it may be self-explanatory that I was near the peak of my trippiness for this retreat. (And, it's not without a small amount of shyness that I reprint my poem here.)

Perhaps it's a good time to mention that there was a very feminine quality to my Open Dharma retreat. Perhaps due to the nature of the retreat and the instructors (which hopefully I can write about later.) My relationship with the feminine in me grew significantly. I'll also briefly mention that when I got to the Goenka retreat (the last 10 days), I noticed some movement back toward the masculine. But, this whole masculine-feminine topic is way too much to get into now.

Day 30: "It feels like the retreat just started. Day 26-29 were a bit rough and stormy. Today, I'm taking rest. Day off. Recuperate. A lot of stuff has happened, but none of it seems like such a big deal. Right now, I'm fantasizing about living in a Japanese Monastery... still here. Not doing much... I love just being. Loving wu wei. Loving love. Still such DEEP longings. Belly longings. So many wants/So many dreams and Desires."

Worth noting in this journal entry is the word "rest." Throughout the 40 days, I became much more proficient at resting, and I'm continuing the practice even today. At times, it's quite difficult.

Day 35: "35 days!... Heaven here. Saw a snake today, and the waterfall. Too hard to explain how this has all unfolded. What do I usually say to this journal?
Nothing Special?
Living my life - ups and downs.
Coming to know myself more and more.
Loving meditation, and realizing more that "being" is meditation is presence is my nature... so really loving meditation is loving myself, loving the truth of my being.
Some shitty days have come and gone. It's hard to say I'm "progressing," as life still feels quite ordinary. But, I am coming to know myself and to know the images which have played the role of "myself" for quite some time. Funny, I'm also realizing how this path really leads nowhere. Like, there's really nothing in it for me. The meaning of Life is Life itself (not me, he he...) Looks like a lot of work still ahead of me."

Day 40: "Wow... uh... what? That was forty days? ummm... huh? *Time*..?
I just talked with Ajay. I said it seems like both:
- I've arrived! I'm here!
- AND... keep going!
He said: "Yes, keep flying with both the feathers."
It's a weird feeling. Doesn't feel particularly special in any way - just feels "ok"... I'm leaving tomorrow, but so far, even "leaving" doesn't feel like "leaving." It just feels like change - more life.
... The silence is a little unnerving. And in fact, it makes sense why I spend my life trying to fill the silence - because there's really nothing there. There's really nothing when the noise fades away. Just Being. And, then, when the time is right, things come. And then they go. And that's just life. Just here. That's all."

And with that my 40 day retreat ended, but I saw no reason to stop there. I got on an overnight train to Dehra Dun and started a ten-day Goenka retreat the next day.

Days 42-44 (Day 0-2 for Goenka):
I didn't like the center much at all when I arrived. (I hope to write about it in another post. Mostly the issue was body pain.) And, I spent the first 2 days considering a run for the exit. I decided that I would leave on one and only one condition: kindness toward myself. No other excuse could make me budge, but if the strict ascetic discipline of the Goenka center even for one moment required me to compromise my own self-kindness, I would've left.

Happily, however, I learned by day 45 (day 3) that the harshness was mostly in appearance only. And by day 3, I was able to settle into , my own rhythm which, though still strict, was sufficiently loving for the needs of my mind and body.

Due to the extra restrictions of Goenka's courses, I had a more intense experience there than in Sattal. I found myself entering some rather altered states and to be honest, I don't even remember day 3-7 (day 45-49).

By around Day 50 (Day 8), thoughts of the outside world started to come in... checking email, blogging, etc. and I slowly transitioned to the end (Day 11/54)

No notes for my Goenka retreat, but it continued along the same threads. I did my best to follow Goenka's technique (observing bodily sensations), while still staying true to my maxim: "Don't force it." (thanks Damian). Mostly, I stayed within the peculiarities of his technique but had quite an interesting experience perhaps around Day 5 (day 47):
Quite spontaneously, my mind started meditating according to another technique from another tradition (Mahasi-style noting). I actually made an attempt to stop it as I wanted to stay in the spirit of "when in Goenkaland, do as the Goenkans." To my surprise, I was unable to stop it, and instead I surrendered to it and found myself having quite a profound meditative experience. But, this did beg the question: "Who's doing the meditating here?" Since it was occurring against my will, who's will was it?

This inquiry is still unfolding for me now in my daily practice, and I think it will continue to unfold as well.

At any rate, I've tried to give a fairly honest and open account here of my experience, but of course, it can only be partial. May it be of some value.

I'll defer to Ghandi to give this last point a better treatment:

I find myself confronted with a fresh problem. What things to mention and what to omit... If things that are relevant are omitted, truth will be dimmed. And it is difficult to decide straightaway what is relevant, when I am not even sure about the relevancy of writing this story... I know that I do not set down in this story all that I remember. Who can say how much I must give and how much omit in the interest of truth? And what would be the value in a court of law of the inadequate ex parte evidence being tendered by me of certain events of my life?...

I, therefore, wonder for a moment whether it might not be proper to stop writing... But so long as there is no prohibition from the voice within, I must continue writing.

- Ghandi, from his autobiography

Sadhu, Sadhu, Sadhu
Well said, Ghandi. Well said.

Cushion Report: Six Days In The Lab

Although it's a weird experience for me to try to share my meditations through these cushion reports, I've gotten some really great feedback that a number of people have gotten inspired to start meditating again. I smile, hearing that.

So, here is the report from my six day self-retreat here in Mcleod Ganj. I've edited this report down a lot. Usually, I'm not a fan of censorship, but there were a couple reasons:
1. It was REALLY long.
2. It probably just wouldn't make much sense to those who haven't practice meditation as much.
3. It may have inadvertently confused, offended, bored, depressed, upset (or who knows what else) to those who weren't really interested in reading that much detail. (If you find such a reaction anyway, please just disregard my ramblings and be happy!)
Anyway, here it goes ~
...

I'd been thinking about meditation and how it's like a completely different movement of the mind. Like a 5th dimension. Time, Space, and (to steal a word from Stephen Colbert) "Truthiness"... a dimension of truthiness from illusion to the Ultimate. And, meditation is movement along that 5th dimension.

I'm staying in Mcleod Ganj, India (home of the Dalai Lama), and thought it'd be good for a little self retreat (6 days). I managed it on about $7 per day for room and board, and had a beautiful rooftop terrace to do my walking meditation on (with eagles flying overhead!) I may come back and do it again someday, as it worked so well.

I was reading a little bit of Ch. 4 and 5 of Mastering The Core Teachings Of The Buddha to prepare, when something clicked. I instantly wanted to return to the lab and continue the experiment. I made a strong resolve to start right away and spend the entire six days focused on stepping out of the story and into the ultimate. To travel the 5th dimension!

With this boost of inspiration, I started strong, with long stretches of concentration - not missing a single breath. Psychological "stuff" started to emerge after about 3 hours of this, and moving into Day 2 as well. I felt like how I imagine the start of a Peyote trip would be. I was emotionally vomiting all the anger, blame, tightness, and other "stuff" that had been clogged up.

Around 3:00PM on Day 2, rather suddenly, the storm simply passed. There was calm, and the "trip" was officially underway.

Day 3: I switched from breath to sensations and my concentration was beginning to return. By the afternoon, I was getting emotional again, but this time with a heart much wider open. Not so much caught up in my personal story, but more filled with compassion for all beings.

I was feeling the pain of the Indian working man on the street... feeling the vulnerability of life when one customer spending 200 rupees ($5) could make or break your day! My heart ached.

Keeping with the meditation into the evening, I decided to attend the candle light march through the streets of Mcleod Ganj that night. The monks and lay people had gathered in protest of the killing of innocent Tibetans in China. This brought up a lot of emotions, and in particular there was one monk who every time I looked at him, I started crying. The look on his face told the a profound story. The release came from deep in my belly. There is a photo I took of him to the left.

The morning of Day 4: concentration was weak again. I realized that I was still only at the surface of the mind with the tears, thoughts, and insights. And, I realized that going to the depth (going to truthiness) meant going to the bare sensations.

Regroup and keep practicing.

Day 4 afternoon: I was having a rough time (lots of pain), so I decided to journal. My journaling itself became part of the process and after about 20 minutes I was dropping into some pretty profound states of peace. But, more important than the peace, I was really seeing Anicca (impermanence) from moment to moment with all that was arising. This lead to the awakening of equanimity within.

After this, my mind continued to calm down and sink into the peace. More ease, less suffering. Pains loosened, energy flowing. I didn't sleep much that night.

Day 5 morning: Energy channels were opening and flowing. Waves of pleasant sensations and relaxation through the body. When the mind was resting on objects, anicca (impermanence) and anatta (not-self) were seen.

The surface was happy and calm, but also present was a subtle restlessness and aversion to slowing down any more. Not sitting - pain in neck, back, hips, knees, but this was a quieter pain now. This felt like healing.

The resistance was now at a much subtler level. Equanimity was strong and very balanced. I continued to apply effort to keep peeling off layers from that core agitation, while also maintaining the balanced mind. Equanimity continued to strengthen into the afternoon. More energy was flowing, more peace. Concentration was still scattered, so I kept the effort on.

Morning of Day 6: Up at 4AM. Equanimity was still strong, and lots of Joy. With this came also lots of Pride, Arrogance, and rehearsing conversations. When I saw the pride and restless mind, I resolved to put fierce effort into anapana and still the mind. I spent about 2 hours in a battle (loving but fierce) to keep attention with the breath. It felt very appropriate, and then I just let go and napped for abut 30 minutes.

Upon awakening again, I had a beautiful full body contraction with quivering. A "relaxing into, and release." (Feels kinda like finally going to the bathroom when you've been waiting a couple years to go)

Despite the anapana, the mind was still wandering. However, mindfulness and investigation were strengthening while equanimity was solid. "Discipline and acceptance - continue the process. Breath by Breath." - I wrote in my journal.

This continued through the morning and into the afternoon. Self-image defenses were arising, along with body pain again. Another storm had hit, but equanimity and happiness were still present and very little involvement with "my stuff."

Practicing a tip from Thanissarro Bhikkhu, I focused on the sensations of the Joy. This spread into more joy and metta. "Metta for my body, metta for my mom, metta for my watch, metta for my camera." This dance of pain and equanimity continued into the night.

Day 7: Retreat's over. I took a wonderful 18km hike up into the base of the Himalayas. (see my other blog post) I noticed a lot of residual restlessness and agitation, but overall I had a good "transition back day."

A quick note about posture: Given my recent health troubles, I took a resolve to "Gentle Perseverance" (Thanks, Constance Casey). During this retreat, I probably spent about 1 hour per day sitting, 1 hour per day walking, a couple hours around town and eating meals, etc. And, about 8-10 hours per day meditating in bed lying down (not to mention about 8 hours of sleep each night). A LOT of time in bed. Not very zazen of me, but it seemed to work well, and it didn't seem to impede much on the experiment at all.

Looking back on the whole thing now, I can see the very clear cycle of storms and peace coming and going. But, what's very cool to see is how each cycle was at a much deeper level. Each storm had less content and "stuff" and more root level dukkha (suffering). Each cycle of peace was vastly quieter and more expansive. Overall, I think this is the most conclusive result of my "lab work." Also, as far as results, I'm noticing a lot more joy, peace and contentment... and a LOT of compassion, especially for Tibet. Also, I'm feeling slightly more empowered to actually act on that compassion (less self-judgment about it)

I'm leaving for 50 days of retreat on March 15th, so I'll be back in the lab again soon. What a joy!

Hopefully that didn't put anybody's head into to much of a tail-spin (or head-spin?)

Metta from Mcleod Ganj, and thanks to everyone who has helped contribute to make it possible for me to be here practicing this work.

Cushion Report: 20 Days in Bodh Gaya

This is the abbreviated version of my notes from my meditation retreat. I'm mostly posting the cushion reports for my Dhamma brothers and sisters out there who are walking the path as well. It may be a bit technical for those who haven't studied meditation as much. So, if that's the case, don't worry. It's just like my research report on my discoveries within the vast realm of this human mind phenomenon. If even that sounds a bit technical... well, I just like meditation, so I like to write about it too. Your comments and thoughts are welcome.

I had mostly been practicing Goenka-style Vipassana (posted about it earlier), and I was prepared for something different this time. The teachers seemed reluctant to give firm instructions like Goenka does, and rather they gave more responsibility to the yogi to find what works best for him. I ended up floundering with this for a while, and ultimately just went about using Goenka with a little bit more open mindfulness here and there, and occasional noting or inquiry. According to my notes, I didn't seem to really start practicing until about day 13. But, better late than never.

This being my first time in India, I had many challenges with the environment as well. But, you'll see as I go along with the report.

Here's the play-by-play...

Day 1:
Slowing down. Anapana. Settling mind. Typical of a day 1. Felt cold & flu symptoms coming on.

Day 2:
I recieved a warm India welcome - Illness! From my notes: "HELL DEATH PAIN." Head pain, fever, snot everywhere. Attempting to work with the illness, I had some profound moments of letting go. 2 specific moments which felt like dying - like I was ready to die - like I was letting go into a deeper peace. That was kinda cool - it was almost dissapointing to discover that actually I was still alive and... sick! Ha! Most of my attention, however, was on taking care of my body.

Day 3:
It got worse before it got better. "Lots of crying" Took medicine and then slept. Changed rooms to a single kuti. Dark room, alone in bed - heaven. Slept most of the day. Meditation-wise: Some moments of stabilizing or resting the mind. This seemed like maybe what Ajahn Brahm refers to as "the Nimmita," but not a stable nimmita. The mind was simply resting on a mental object. This kept me motivated to keep practicing despite the illness.

Day 4:
More sleep. Started getting confused by the multitude of teachings being suggested. I contemplated the impermanence of all this. From Goenka to Titmuss - Annica! Body was healing itself.

Day 5:
"Health Back to 75%. Sitting again." Lots of insights, plus more experiences of "stabilizing" concentration. Experienced some bliss, which is something I'm developing my capacity for. Each time I'm just a little more comfortable with it, and that feels like success. Progress was ungrounded however, and I started having lots of distracting thoughs (that will continue for some days) about "attainments" what a great meditation achievements I must be making, on and on... I knew that this couldn't possibly be helpful, but my mind was quite hooked on the subject. Very lost in the concept of "tasting Nibbana." Craving, excitation, etc.

Day 6:
Similar to day 5, more insights, more equanimity. Thoughts about equanimity, and equanimity with those thoughts. Equanimity with the craving, circular thinking, etc. Not what I expected in that it was more equanimous rather than joyful. It was just an ok-ness with everything. I explored this experience with no urgency to move past it. Still lots of commentary though.

Day 7:
More of the same. Progress with insights and practice. But, still comentary, attachments, excitation with each step of progress. Some moodiness. Still confused and lost about technique and teachings.

Day 8:
Practice is scattered, dull, and lost with occasional powerful insights. Health mostly better, but body pain still. Finally starting to adjust to India.

Day 9:
Still feeling lost and confused with technique. I interviewed with the teacher (Radha) and asked about it. She anwered, "middle path" and "whatever frees the mind." This didn't help much. I decided to just go on faith: "all questions are eventually answered through the practice."

Day 10:
Faith helped. Back to awareness and equanimity. Started getting a sense of what's meant by "formations." I described it in my notes like this: "seeing that this moment is not the last moment." Because this was the transition day between the two ten-day retreats, I took the afternoon to go sit under the Bodhi Tree! A cool advantage of sitting in Bodh Gaya! Christopher Titmuss showed up that evening with an epic opening talk. Very happy to have him here. Craving and excitement about it too.

Day 11:
Adjusting to "new" retreat. Still grappling with craving meditative attainment. Excitation, wanting, etc.

Day 12:
Finally, I just decided to drop all the "attainment" stuff. Slow day. Some doubt about why I'm even here or why do any of this. Some pain and confusion.

Day 13:
Doubt got worse, so I eventually sat down and asked my inner guidance what to do. Inner guidance gave a very clear response: "just do the retreat." This settled my mind considerably. Ease and ok-ness now. Staying with direct experience.

Day 14:
Mind calming. Remembering a lot of old "lessons learned" and getting back in the groove of practice. Doing less, being more.

Day 15:
Christopher said: "harcore buddhists are just a nightmare!" Funny! I went deeper into being with direct experience. Relaxing, happier.

Day 16:
Chill day!
Tranquility and Joy. Lots of "just sitting" and not using any technique. Loving the retreat and most everything around me. Finally letting go. Concious and relaxed.

Day 17:
From note: "PAIN. Lots of pain." I think I overdid it with the sitting yesterday. Body soreness, physical pain. Sore muscles. Thoughts starting to come up about "after the retreat," so concentration weakening a bit.

Day 18:
Pains and doubts - worry about if I have some physical condition. Lots of time in bed. Christopher suggested "moving the energy" with yoga or a brisk walk. This maybe helped a little, but mostly staying in bed helped. Very bright vivid lucid dream at night. Still relaxing into the ups and downs of experience. Restlessness about the end of the retreat building.

Day 19:
More pain in body. Christopher led an inquiry about "what is nirvana?" and it was phenomenal! I felt big chunk of misconception dropping away. Some deep and profound insights that I can't really explain in word. Practice was strong, but still overcome with body pain. Lots of time in bed. Contemplating dukkha (suffering).

Day 20:
It's over. From notes: "amazing level of happiness and trust throughout the pain."

Anyway, I hope this long and very personal report of my inner adventure may be of value to my Dhamma brothers and sisters. It's pretty weird to share such intimate inner stuff with the world (and there's a good chance that meditation teachers would advise against it), but I guess I just like getting naked sometimes.

Be Happy.

Cushion Report: Meditation Payday!

"In the hard meditations you build up your strength, which creates the momentum for peace. Then when there is enough credit, the mind goes into a good meditation, and it is a payday."
- Ajahn Brahm

I've been reading the words of the Australian monk, Ajahn Brahm, lately. He uses the simile of the payday and basically says that you'd be crazy to go to work and expect every day to be payday, you'd be even crazier to go to work and expect every moment to be a payday. Yet, what a temptation it is to want every moment of meditation to be paying big returns.

Well, it just so happens that I have just arisen from something of a payday meditation, and I decided to write about it before my memory fades.

I woke up feeling angry and hurt about my Big Issue #3 (which used to be my Big Issue #1 about a month ago - I'll spare you the details.) As is my custom, I greeted it with a "hello, Big Issue #3," and I resolved to work on it later today, but first... meditation.

Already, this was a triumph because I can often be so swamped by the Big Issues in my life that I roll in thoughts and emotions for a while without a moment's peace. But instead, I put it aside and let it go. Big win. And, as I sat down and began my meditation, I was pleasantly surprised to find how flexible was the quality of my mind to let it all go.

I decided to work with the breath (anapanasati), since this is what I'd been reading about most recently.

About 15 minutes in, I started to notice a very subtle but important distinction about the quality of my awareness. I noticed that there was a way I could simply "know" the breath directly, and there was also a way I could effort to "concentrate" on the breath. The knowing was just like this: "The breath is here. There it is. I don't have to do anything. It's right there. And, I know it because there it is." The efforting was like this: "ok, let me concentrate. Focus. THIS is the breath. STAY with it..."

I also noticed that although the mind was wandering about somewhat for these first 15 minutes, there was also a quieter stillness that was underneath the inner dialogue. And, in that stillness was the breath, just continuing on.

In seeing all this, I really got a direct hit of the art of letting go. I witnessed that what is often described as "concentrating on the breath," is really more of a "letting go into the breath" and into the silence and stillness. And with that, I stopped the efforting.

For the next 15 minutes, I simply stayed with the breath in effortlessness. The mind would wander here and there, or it would begin to effort again, but I would just come back to that direct knowing of the breath.

After about 30 minutes of meditation, the breath began to become more and more subtle, and I was experience more and more of the small details. I was with the breath more continuously. And, it became more and more peaceful and quiet.

Then, the piti-sukha came (the bliss, the joy, the happiness). I felt it come over my face and chest in tingles, and a deeper bliss started to evolve from my first chakra. For a while, bliss has been a real sticking point for me that I've started to explore (which is why I got the book from Ajahn Brahm in the first place). I had all sorts of beliefs and hangups about bliss that were not helping me and I've been starting to shed them. And, slowly over the last few months I've been coming to terms with my love-hate-fear-guilt-misunderstanding relationship with bliss. So, I've given the instructions to command central (in my mind) that when bliss comes: remain calm, remain equanimous, allow it, let go, and let it be. These instructions have been helpful, though the opportunities for application have been few and far between.

So, my first thought was just a thought of recognition. "Oh... bliss." Then, my next thought was, "this is ok, just let it be." Soon after that, I realized that this was quite uncommon for my daily meditations, that this was something more likely to occur on retreat. Hence the recognition: "payday!"

It lasted probably for about a minute before all my habitual reactions jumped in. "Oh, this is scary." "Oh this is wild." "Oh, this is so wonderful." "Oh, I shouldn't be thinking about it, I should keep practicing." "Oh, I'm not letting it be. LET IT BE, damn it!" "Oh, that's not letting it be. I'm not very good at this." "Oh crap, it's gone."

This little dialogue wasn't anything new, although it was a bit quieter this time than it's been in the past. What was cool is that for the next 30 minutes I kept practicing and working with all this aftermath. I really put my attention on the "keep practicing" voice itself and noticed it to be the same voice as the "efforting" I mentioned above - in fact, the voice that says "keep practicing" is a big OBSTACLE to the practice itself! Ha! I realized that I wasn't letting go into my experience, but I was trying to control and overcome it... again. And, I recognized that letting go would mean letting go into the entire storm of reactions that arose from those moments of bliss.

So, I started to let go again. And, then... all of a sudden... the alarm went off, and my hour was finished. Ha! I was so peaceful, so tranquil, so calm, that I didn't even want to move or break my posture to turn the alarm off. The entire meditation passed so easily and effortlessly through the hour. And, I hardly felt attached to it at all, either.

So, this is what I would call a payday meditation. What I'm taking away from it is the deeper realization of the nature of letting go. And, the deeper realization of what it means to observe the breath without any observer. I'm sure there will be many more deeper cuts into both of those insights in due time.

Hopefully, in the future I can write a description of one of my "strength building" meditations too. They can't all be paydays, and they aren't either!