Sensousness in Every Moment

I'm sitting in the library, enjoying a cold Tuesday in California, and this is what's on my mind - Sensuousness.

Here's the definition I use for sensuousness (taken from The Free Dictionary

"Highly appreciative of the pleasures of sensation."

This library has a soft yellow tone across the walls, floors, and the faces of the people around me. The yellow comes from the buzzing florescent bulbs overhead, evenly spaced across the ceiling. The columns of the library's structure are painted purple, which gives a bright contrast to the yellow - though even these walls are subject to the cast of florescent light.

What does it mean to see? What is it to see color?

In contemplating the idea of beauty, I'm tempted to ask why certain wavelengths of visible light would be considered more "beautiful" in certain arrangements than other wavelengths. How radical that there is even a wavelength at all. A vibration hits my retina creating the visual sense. The amount of wiggle in this vibration is defined in terms of wavelength, frequency, etc. Light is wiggling my retina. This is sensuousness - the joy of being wiggled.

Every moment, my senses are attentive. Input is being received and processed. The sound of my fingers clicking keys on my keyboard ride over the soft sounds of librarians voices, swiping bar-codes on the library checkout machines, a photocopy machine making rhythmic sweeps behind me.

I open my senses - panoramic. Dropping the specifics, I tune into the pleasure of sensing in and of itself. This sensing is every moment. This sensing is a dazzling symphony of sensory changes.

As humans, most of us are aware that each moment of our life is never to be repeated. Each moment is "the moment of a lifetime." Each is unique, fleeting, and never to come again. And yet, with each passing moment, we are still "here," it is still "now." How do we spend these moments?

What are you doing right now? I'm typing on my keyboard, listening softly to the sounds around me. Whatever it is that we may be doing... right now sensuousness is available. The pleasure of sensing itself, which is the pleasure of actuality. The pleasure of being a sensate being in intimacy with our physical surroundings.

Sensuousness is intimacy, and sensuousness is the window into the perfection of this universe. Sensuousness is what makes the actuality of this physical universe so ultimately satisfying. Sensuousness can't be imagined, and can't be found in any fantasy. It is only available here and now... but in this very moment it is available in abundance.

Enjoy your holidays.

- Daniel

A Bias Toward The Facts

I've come to a thrilling conclusion which may be reflected in my blog writing from now on and perhaps in my personality as well. The conclusion I've come to is a clear and unequivocal preference for... the facts. (Ah, it's nice to say.)

I know that Albert Einstein was quoted as saying “imagination is more important than knowledge,” and I am now clearly standing up to say “not for me, it isn't.” This may come as a surprise to some who know me because that used to be one of my favorite quotes. And, perhaps if one wants to win the Nobel prize for theoretical physics, then maybe “imagination is more important than knowledge.” I'm not interested in winning any prizes for my theories however, so I will stick to the facts.

So far what my experience shows is that for the sake of living a happy and harmonious life, for living peacefully with myself and with others, and for living in this world with some degree of sense and sensibility, then facts are most important and imagination is not even useful. Wow. I said it. And that's a fact.

To introduce my bias more formally, I will refer to that excellent resource – the dictionary - to elaborate a bit.

Fact (dictionary.com) 
 /fækt/
–noun
1. something that actually exists; reality; truth: Your fears have no basis in fact.

2. something known to exist or to have happened: Space travel is now a fact.

3. a truth known by actual experience or observation; something known to be true: Scientists gather facts about plant growth.

Facts have many advantages, given that they exist regardless of our opinions, beliefs, theories, and stances on them. What a relief it is to discover something so dependable. A fact is indisputable given that it is so easily confirmed through one's sensory experience. What a relief to discover such consistency. And, a fact is nothing personal, so there's no need to take offense.

One of the most challenging facts for a human being, is the fact of our own mortality. We are all going to die. But, look... it's dependable, it's consistent, it's indisputable, and bottom line... it's nothing personal. Hmmm...

Here's another fact:

Two-hundred and fifty million year-old bacteria, Bacillus permians, were revived from stasis after being found in sodium chloride crystals in a cavern in New Mexico... it is the oldest living thing ever recorded.

A Great Basin Bristlecone Pine (Pinus longaeva) called Prometheus was measured by ring count at 4,862 years old when it was felled in 1964. This is the greatest verified age for any living organism at the time of its killing.

- wikipedia

Certainly, the facts will continue to make an appearance here on this blog as I continue to explore this whole business called being alive. I invite you to join me in welcoming the facts, and perhaps we can explore together. What a wonder it is to be alive. Yet, there it is, a plain fact, as plain as day... we are alive now. And, there's no arguing that.

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?

Return of the Outdoorsman

Rugged and rough... beard like a grizzly... I'm getting wild out here with some California living.

Photos are now posted from my backpacking trip to Big Sur online here.

I haven't written in a while, but for the last few weeks I've been enjoying the perks of living on planet Earth. I went surfing twice now, as well as a backpacking trip down the coast.

It's hard to live in Santa Cruz county and not be tempted to jump in the salty cold ocean once in a while. Getting on a board again after probably 9 years of no surfing brought back some good memories. There is something magical about dunking my head underwater, hearing the rush of water fill my ears, and feeling the blast of cold on my face. Then, lifting my head, shaking the water off and breathing deeply as I gaze out at the rock cliffs surrounding me. Sitting atop a board as the slow unbroken waves pass underneath, the rhythm of rising and falling, I don't have to think about much of anything. I just smile like a child, floating, floating, floating.

The first surf session was mellow. Kids half my height were learning on the close shore breaks. My long time friend, Lori, was really trying to get me stoked on the thrill of surfing again, but still I think the best part was just the water. Being wet is really fun - wet salty hair, wet splashes on my faces, wet eyebrows even. The surfing was fun too, and standing on top of a surge of water while traveling in to shore almost makes me giggle.

I bought a wetsuit a couple days later, and then was back out - this time at Manresa state beach. The waves were head-high, and the air was cold. The crisp sounds of pounding waves on sand were a constant background for adventure. I got pummeled by a few waves, tossed around much less elegantly than the first trip out. After catching a couple waves, I stumbled back to shore out of breath and with a frigid headache. Even being beaten by the onslaught of a vast ocean brings such a fullness to being alive. The senses of the body become alert to the pressures and pushes across every inch of skin. I returned to the parking lot for the post-surf ritual of squeezing out of the wetsuit and into a fresh, dry towel. The salt dried into my hair leaving a sticky residue. The car had a noticeable stillness to it when compared with the tumbles of the ocean.

Alexandra, who joined me for the second surf session, was also my companion for a trip into the wilderness of Big Sur. We chose the remote Fresno Camp, way off the beaten path - literally! In fact, the path is so overgrown, that our hike took twice as long just to plow through the bushes. Just enough trail existed for us to keep following down into a quiet valley by the San Antonio creek. The campsite was smack in a riverbed which floods over in the rainy season. We couldn't have picked a better time, since it was right before the first fall rains hit a couple weeks ago. The solitude was refreshing, the mountains were towering above, and the weather was sunny and bright. The cold creek offered yet another chance to get my hair wet and take a dip. The water flowed down over shimmering rocks and opened into pools one to two feet deep. A biodegradable soap allowed for a sudsy scrub down after a tiring (and poison oak filled) hike in. The camp food tasted delicious as always in the small metal pot that had been heated over the fire. There was no one in sight from start to finish during our two nights of camping and hiking. But even if we'd been lonely, the gnats still swarmed and cuddled with us.

After emerging from the dirty wilderness, we drove to the icon of luxury - The Hearst Castle. I'm not sure if I ever went there as a kid, but it was great to finally see it as an adult.

We also saw the elephant seals of San Simeon. The female elephant seals were sleeping in piles on the beach, while young males were sparring and testing their strength in the low water where the waves came in.

Daylight savings ends bringing the real darkness of winter. The rains have hit hard, and work has been wet and cold a couple times now. Fall potatoes, squash, and greens have arrived too, and I'll be roasting the veggies away at home in Felton.

What a planet, eh?

Update

As you may notice, I've updated the look of my blog to stay current with the changes in my life. Rather than explain all the reasons and philosophies behind the change, I'll just leave it to be discovered by those who may be reading and following along, and I'll leave this post as history of what came and went.

As my life continues to change, I'm looking around at this world I live in with new eyes. I'm looking with fascination and marvel at this very physical universe.

In this world, there are trees. There are squirrels. There are people. There is a bright blue sky which spans out into the greatest depths of infinite space. There is the light of the sun which trickles down through leaves, shutters, and shades to reach this fantastic sense organ called the eye.

There is a human being seeing, thinking, and typing. There are the molecules of organic matter composing an intricate and richly layered organism of cells, tissues, and organs. There is this whole business called being alive.

Why is it that a Human Being, living in this verdant paradise still lives with anger and aggresion? Why is it that a Human Being lives with fear, stress, and anxiety? Why the violence? Why the corruption? Why the sorrow? This is what we call the human condition.

Here I am, alive in this moment. And here is a fresh start.

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."

Reader's Write: "Where Do You Work?"

A friend writes:

"Nice one, cutting the hours back to practice. Where do you work that lets you do that, lucky."

My job is wonderful, and I feel very fortunate to have it. It doesn't pay a lot, and there isn't really any "upward mobility" or "career ladder" to climb. But, it is lots of fun, and the people are great. Basically, I wake up at 4am, eat an omellette, and then drive to meet my carpool from which point we continue on to Wattsonville. There we pick up a truck which has been loaded with super fresh fruits and veggies (mostly picked the day before) and start driving up toward the
Bay Area.

By the time I arrive, it's around 7am, the sun is up, people are laughing, and the day is getting underway. We set up our veggie stand at the Farmer's Market (I'm in Berkeley on Saturday and Montclaire on Sunday) and start selling by 9am. It's fast paced hustle and bustle - not at all like Safeway. We weigh people's food by old time scales and geuestimate the prices to the nearest quarter. Sometimes I can take maybe about 20 customers per minute when things are really flying!

We sell super fresh California delicious certified organic produce. It's seriously some of the highest quality food on the planet. Special Bonus: I get to take home as much as I want as well as "trade" with other vendors for whatever they are selling. My food bill averages about $10 per week. And, when I get it home, I don't even do fancy recipes or lots of spice because the food is so good and so fresh that it just bursts with flavour as-is. My favorite dish is to throw everything in a cast-iron pot with some olive oil (garlic, onions, potatoes, squash, broccoli, tomatoes, fennel with some fresh rosemary, marjoram, sage) a little salt - don't even cut them up, just cook 'em whole. And, eat them super hot right out of the pot. Simple food can taste so good.

Before i know it, it's already 1PM, market's over and time to pack up and go home. I get back to the farm around 4:30pm, finish unloading the truck and getting it ready for the next day. Clock out with about a 12.5 hour day and drive home for a quick bubble bath and a few hours of sleep before I repeat the whole thing again the next day. So, right now I'm just working Saturday and Sunday (for a total of 25 hours)... and then mon-fri I have free to do whatever I want!