I'm Full Of It

­­I am full.  Of shit perhaps?  Maybe.

But I also feel filled to the brim with words and premises and punchlines and ideas for jokes that I don’t give a crap about right now.  Full of dates on a calendar and schedules and appointments and to do lists and plans for building the life of my dreams!

I’m exhausted.

But this is in stark contrast to another life, where I spent many years stuck. Years and years holding back, fearful and not doing much toward getting unstuck.  I worked, came home, watched TV and complained about my life.  I call this sticky, stuck-y chunk of time The Couch Years.

 
During The Couch Years I was not saying yes to life.  When life came calling I said:

“How did you get this number?” and promptly hung up.

Finally, the desire to become unstuck had become greater than the limited comfort of being stuck.  Armed with my new found meditation practice, more clarity and my rediscovered gut…and I was OFF!  Off the couch and running. 

At first it was a slow jog, but in recent years it has become an all-out sprint.

So much to do!  So much to be! Answer the call!  Got to say yes to life after years of saying no!

Then in 2008, a life-threatening health scare landed me in the hospital and after almost kicking the bucket, I fully felt the preciousness of life.  I was filled with a desire to live fully, even if my fear and doubt decided to tag along.  Nothing could stop me.  I ramped up my comedy schedule more and more, getting up to do comedy every chance I had.  And I started teaching meditation on top of my job as a massage therapist.  Writing and working and teaching and performing and keeping up with my Facebook page and emails and texting while driving (whaaaat?) and cramming 28 hours worth of stuff in to 24 hours a day.

And then I met my amazing boyfriend!  I decided sleep was overrated as I added sheer bliss, romance and love on to my plate.

And this past year I re-invented my meditation workshops in to Comedy Karma and Creativity Karma, delightfully filling my schedule even more. Wake up, meditate, go go go, love, work, make people laugh, teach, work, make my boyfriend's cats laugh and keep saying yes to life.

People remarked: "I don't know how you do all of this!" and "You're always so busy!"

The Couch Years seemed long behind me.   In fact, I forgot I even had a couch. 

Oh yeah.  I forgot about balance.

This hit me like a ton of bricks a couple of months ago when I got slammed with a bad flu and found myself…on the couch.

I realized something.  After all those years of saying "no", now it seemed all I was doing was saying "yes".  Balance is knowing when to say yes and no.  When you have your eye on the bigger picture, saying no to some things becomes a yes to other things you value.
  

Thank Buddha for my meditation practice.  Otherwise I don’t know how I could have done this schedule and all this craziness the past several years.  

The thing about meditation is it gets you in touch with the experience of vast spaciousness so that creativity can blossom and form can come in to being.  You begin to know the difference between your gut and fear.  Meditation strengthens your mind so that you become very focused and very effective, wherever you place your mind. And there are countless other fruit it bears...

So my meditation practice has contributed to my being able to accomplish and do so much: alertness, focus, concentration, personal power.

But I still have lots of opportunity to practice the other things my meditation practice helps teach me: relaxation, openness, spaciousness, trust.

Trusting that things will unfold, rather than my having to jump in and make them happen.   Rather than wanting results now.  Or losing sight of the present moment.  And gripping tightly to outcomes.

Enjoying what is, and acting from a place of enthusiasm and joy, rather than trying to make up for lost time…for all that time on the couch.

 So I've cut back on performing and the gigs I'm saying yes to.

Comedy Karma workshops are on hold till June.

And in a couple of days, I’m leaving for ten day silent meditation retreat.

I want to start trusting that I won’t go back to the couch.  Between the highway and the couch there is a path of balance.  The couch in itself is not “bad”.  The couch can be a healing, resting place when used in balance with action.  Stillness and action.  Rest and movement.  Balance.

My intention is to empty out so that I can make room for the next steps on my path of balance.  To empty out so that insight and creativity can arise.  So that the familiar experience of oneness with the Universe can fill me up.

 
Shamatha is a foundational practice I’ll be using while on retreat.  Buddhist meditation includes shamatha (tranquility) and vipassana (insight) practice.  Shamatha is key to creating a strong, focused, tranquil mind so that one may have lasting insights in to the nature of mind and the nature of reality.

Follow your breath.  No need to change it or "do" anything; just watch it.  Hold it tenderly.  Remain on the breath and after many, many breaths and the breath drops away, remain on the spot where you perceived the breath.  Be led in to experiencing emptiness.  

For instructions on doing shamatha at home, click here

Breathe In, Breathe Out, Breathe Easy

Whenever a tragedy occurs, like the earthquake, tsunami and impending nuclear meltdown in Japan, there is a collective grief that hangs in the air.   Everyone feels it.

What do we do in the face of such suffering?

We might turn away.  Or obsess over CNN.  Or feel overwhelmed, guilty, helpless, numb.  We may become more self absorbed as a defense to such enormous grief and then think: "How can I be so obsessed with my little life when there's bigger fish to fry in the universal pan?"

In Buddhism, the first Noble Truth that "life is suffering" is not a proclamation that "life sucks".  It's a truth urging us to be more willing to face suffering squarely.  To really look in to its eyes.  When we practice this, we can handle anything that comes our way.

There is a belief – especially in recent years – that we must think only happy thoughts and to avoid, avert and distract ourselves from what is.  We avoid "bad energy" at all costs and after awhile, we're living like ostriches, with our blindfolded head in the pink sand, believing that this will attract shiny happy things in our lives.  This way of living can actually create more fear.  It can make us live smaller.

And facing suffering, understanding suffering, doesn’t mean being glued to the TV watching horribleimage after horrible image for hours on end.  This, actually, can be a hysterical indulgence after a certain point.

So what do you do?

You could donate to The Red Cross, you could call to make sure friends and relatives are safe, you could organize a benefit.  But beyond this, what the hell do you do in order to understand such suffering on a deep level?  I don't know completely.  But I've been doing Tonglen.

Tonglen is a beautiful practice for suffering.  Basically, you breathe in suffering and you breathe out relief.  You actually relate to suffering, rather than turn away.  Rather than worry and obsess.  Rather than wish things were different. 

The Buddhist path is one of fearlessness.  When you truly feel that nothing in life can touch your inner sense of grace, deep peace and happiness, you become braver in life.  You take risks.  You live bigger.  You're happier.

Funny, that.

So.  What to do in the face of such suffering?  When there is seemingly no compassionate action you can take in the moment?  Try Tonglen.

 

Heart of Bodhicitta:
Get in contact with your open, loving, wise heart.  If you have trouble with this, just think of you at your best.  This heart is from where all your good deeds have ever sprung.  This is a place of spaciousness, wisdom, stillness, clarity, compassion and loving kindness.  A collection of all that is good in you.  Trust me, it’s there.  If you don’t think you have it, borrow someone else’s.  Hell, Angelina Jolie’s will work.  Or Mother Theresa.  Or your great grandma.  But see it as a beautiful orb of light in the center of your chest.  Maybe golden light, or pure white light.  However this resonates with you, get in contact with your heart of bodhicitta, your inherent goodness and compassionate wisdom that is there.  Rest your attention here for a while.  Count to ten breaths.

Breathe In Suffering:
Now see the suffering of another, perhaps a loved one, as a black cloud.  It’s hot and thick.  Breathe this black cloud of suffering in to your spacious, open, loving heart.  Your heart uses it for fuel and…

Breathe Out Relief:
...As you breathe out, exhale relief to those in suffering in the form of this beautiful light from your heart.  Exhale compassion, loving kindness, stillness, expansive clarity and wisdom.  All that is limitless and true in your heart of bodhicitta.  Let these qualities touch and relieve those beings who suffer.

In, suffering, out, relief.  In, blackness, out, light.

We want to not do such a thing, right?  I mean, breathing in suffering?  Are you nuts?  Try it anyway.

Breathe in the suffering of others.  Focus on a single being at first.  Perhaps a woman who has lost her child in the tsunami.  A nuclear plant worker.  A dog who cannot find its master, roaming the devastated shoreline.

Breathe in your own suffering; your own resistance to life, your resistance to your meditation practice, your resistance to washing the dishes after dinner and the fight you always get in to with your loved one about it.

Breathe in the truth of life; that we all have suffering of some kind or another, taking various shapes and forms that are no more and no less suffering.

Breathe out the truth of inherent wisdom, kindness, compassion, spaciousness, stillness, clarity.

Eventually, with this practice, you begin to hold suffering and bodhicitta together, in the palm of the same hand, neither fearing and averting, nor attaching and preferring.  It’s all of it.  Just like life.  

I do Tonglen for myself, for loved ones, for a woman with a suffering face in line at the grocery store.  For my parents, who did the best they could.  For ex boyfriends who didn't do whatever they didn't do.  For those who have caused harm to me.  For those to whom I've caused harm.  For a dear friend who's going through a breakup.  For an entire nation that is ravaged by loss and devastation. 

And I begin to be able to face the un-faceable.  And I begin to know there is something else there alongside all that suffering.

And low and behold I find I can truly handle whatever comes my way more often than not.  This breeds a trust that is always there.  Well, most of the time.   And so I keep practicing.  In and out.   In and out.

How Do I Get To Carnegie Hall?

Life is tough.  Often, things don’t go the way we want.  It’s messy, imperfect and unpredictable.  Plus, it’s always changing.  Just when things get comfy and we believe we have some ground under our feet, shit happens.  And we resist it.  That makes things worse.  So this covers at least two “marks of existence”, according to Buddhism: suffering and impermanence.

Oh!  And that suffering and impermanence business I just mentioned is always about ourselves.  Me, me, me.  It’s all about me!  How can I make this about meeeee?  And that, ladies and gentlemen, covers the third and final “mark of existence” known as not self.  In a nutshell, we perceive everything through the lens of self and really, in the largest sense, it’s not about us.

Which brings me to me.  I had a bar show the other night that I want to tell you about.  But before I get back to me (which I can assure I will) let’s just review for a moment those curious three marks of existence, that are the foundation of Buddhist teachings:

Suffering (dukkha)

Impermanence (anicca)

Not-Self (anatta)

You might be thinking: “That’s great, but what does this have to do with me?”  Aha!  Now you’re doing it.  OK, we’re all doing it.

Anyway, I had a bar show the other night.  Bar shows are unpredictable and messy.  There’s usually one or two tables that refuse to shut up and a TV is blaring with some sports game and the patrons who are supposed to be listening to your brilliant comedic rantings are wasted.  Not fun.  At least not for the comics.

There’s an old Catskills style joke that goes like this:

A man on a New York street stopped a passerby, asking:

“How do I get to Carnegie Hall?”

The passerby replied: “Practice, practice, practice.”

A while back, I made the choice to view every challenge in life as an opportunity to practice something.

This came in handy in 2008, when I almost died.  Twice.  I had undiagnosed appendicitis and by the time the doc figured it out, some shit had not just gone down, it had hit the proverbial fan.  A raging infection, two surgeries, ongoing care from a nurse, much pain and uncertainty and four months later, I was finally able to get back to my life. 
 

When the first ghastly pangs of appendicitis started - during my birthday weekend, no less - and nobody could figure out what it was, I remember my inner voice saying stuff like:

"But it's my birthday!"

  

and 

“I wish this wasn’t happening!”

and

"Why me?"

…and then a light bulb went off.  And I relaxed.  This is what’s happening.  Wishing it wasn’t will only compound my suffering.  So surrender.  Which is not resignation, by the way.  Surrender is not giving up, but giving over to whatever situation you find yourself in and meeting it fully.  And I had plenty of opportunity to practice this during the four-month-appendicitis-hell.   Which wasn't so hellish after all, thanks to the practice of surrender.

  

So back to something almost as painful as appendicitis: bar shows!

At the bar show the other night, waiting to go on, I took in the surroundings.  There was a table up front texting and talking, a few tables laughing and enjoying things (thankfully); a large table in back YELLING at each other throughout the entire show and some tables off to the side cheering whoever was winning the game on TV.  And the inner voices inside me were almost winning:

“Oh god, I wish I wasn’t here.  I wish they were listening.  I wish the sound system was louder” and on and on.

Right before I was about to get up on stage, my loving, wonderful, mind-reading boyfriend got up from his chair, whispering to me:

“That’s it.  I’m going to tell them to be quiet.” 

Heart flutters.  My prince!  But I paused a moment as the light bulb went off and I whispered back:

“Thank you, but don't say anything; it’s fine.”  And he got it.  He knows me so well.

I wanted to meet what is and work with it.  That’s the spiritual way of looking at it.  The comic’s way of looking at it?  I love a challenge, it’ll make me better, so bring it on, bitches!!

So I stepped up there and met the moment.  Dealing with TVs on, audience members who had no idea they were audience members and a noise level that rivaled the circus helped me get very present and very creative.  I was relaxed but on my toes. 

I didn’t compound my suffering by wishing it was different.  I practiced surrendering to what is and thus found a place from which to work with the situation.  In resistance, we can’t find that place.  Throughout my set, I picked and chose material that suited the circumstances.  Perhaps not a night to whip out the subtlest and smartest comedy material, but a night for material that would get their attention.  I talked to them.  I called out the situation and made fun of it.  But more than anything, I just worked with what was happening, even though I wanted to hate what was happening.

I kept practicing the release of the desire to make this about me.  My ego wanted to let the circumstances tell me something about my identity, my “self”, even though in a larger sense it really had nothing to do with me.  It was just another show.  Not self.  I wanted to listen to the inner voice that told me I’m a failure for still doing bar shows.  And that because I’m not performing at Carnegie Hall but instead at a place offering $5 baskets of shrimp, there is something terribly, terribly wrong with me, my life and everything I stand for.  But I chose not to go there. Well, not completely.  Practice, practice, practice.  

And finally I practiced releasing attachment to things staying a certain way.  At various points during my set, they were listening instead of watching TV, laughing instead of drunkenly shouting to their friends.  But I accepted it might not stay that way.  Impermanence.  Change is the only constant we have.  I may have their attention now, but I refuse to take it personally or get thrown if two minutes from now they’re back to cheering on Kobe.  Or whoever has the football at the moment.  The Lakers are a football team, right?  Can’t remember.  Anyway, back to me.

Success!  I had a good time, the audience (that was listening) had a good time and miraculously some people who weren’t listening actually listened and even laughed.  Sure, I was proud of myself for meeting a small challenge like this with awareness.  The practice is paying off.  But then I proceeded to get in a fight with my boyfriend on the way home where I said things I wish I hadn’t and generally acted like an asshole. I’m human, what can I say?  We’re all trying to do our best.  Practice, practice, practice.

In every aspect of our lives, practice, practice, practice.  And eventually we will get to Carnegie Hall...whatever that is for each of us.

Faith, Determination and That Monkey Mind of Mine

I posted a blog on 2/14 about how moving toward a goal is often like a drive to the beach.  If you know that's where you want to go, start heading West!

A fellow meditator asked me a question after reading that blog:

" Your 'drive to the beach' reminds me a bit of my rambling and distracting mind when I meditate sometimes. I start on the object: "the beach" and then find myself wandering off...
[What do I do] when my willy nilly mind gets the best of me?"

Great question!  Working with the distracted mind can sometimes lead to dullness in our practice and a mechanical approach.  We know we're to bring ourselves back to the object of our meditation each time we wander off.  But sometimes we’re simply going through the motions each time we pull our attention back over and over. We’re doing it by rote, but we don’t really have enough interest in the object of our meditation to want to stay there in the first place.  Here’s where faith and determination come in.

And here’s where I switch analogies away from “the beach” for a minute.  Our mind is like a very small child who wants to wander in to the busy, colorful street.  We have her by the hand and each time she pulls toward the street or takes a step in to the street, we lovingly yet firmly pull her back.  We do this not just because we love her and want the best for her, but because we have faith that this action is actually building toward something.  Each time we lovingly yet firmly pull her back she is gaining an awareness, a habit, a sense of the larger picture.  And some day she will know to do this on her own.  We have faith in this small action that is taken over and over and over again.  And our determination is fueled by this faith.  And we must have determination to build a strong meditation practice. 

In my classes, I talk about having “interested determination” in your practice.  Take an interest in the object of your meditation (the breath, an orb of light) and summon your determination to be there.  Let there be faith that the mere action of continuing to bring yourself back time and again is enough.  Not getting to some vast spacious place of bliss.  But the mere action of bringing yourself back over and over is perhaps – maybe at least for today’s meditation – what it’s all about.  Pulling that small child back from the busy street is no action taken in vain.

I recommend bearing in mind the above before all else.  But some days we're just off the object more than we're on and we want to just leave the child at home!  

So...back to the beach analogy.  I look at it this way: the “beach” is a strong meditation practice.  The "road" is whichever practice we've chosen to do.  There are many roads that lead to a strong practice.  So if you’ve been doing, say, Shamatha (mindfulness with breathing, where the object is the breath) for several weeks in a row and perhaps today and yesterday and the day before you were off more than you were on, then maybe it’s time to invest in a new practice for a time. Take a small street.  Hop on the freeway.  But get on a different road.

When I have an unusually distracted mind, I do Tonglen.  I visualize my heart as a golden, glowing orb of light and home to Bodhicitta.  Bodhicitta is any compassion, loving kindness, awakened, enlightened part of my being that exists.  And if I’m having a crappy day and don’t believe any of that stuff exists in or on or around me, I summon my faith.  I have faith that I have some sliver of Bodhicitta within me and I see it as a golden orb of light in my chest.  

 

And then I see – as a black cloud - my distraction, my resistance (to the practice), my doubts (in the practice and myself) and my worries (about everything).  I breathe this black cloud in to my heart and my heart uses it as fuel.  My heart gets bigger, brighter, warmer and as I breathe out, this light and warmth spreads throughout my body.   I don’t try to analyze or figure out the contents of this black cloud of fear, doubt, worry, resistance, distraction and all-around suffering.  I simply breathe it in.  It fuels my heart.  Then I do this for others, sending the heart of Bodhicitta out to all beings.  I breathe in others pain and suffering and at some point, there doesn’t seem to be any difference between Bodhicitta and suffering.  And I enjoy this dance of everything, allowing for everything to be a part of my practice. 

Luckily the visualization and the fact that this is a moving mind meditation keep my monkey mind occupied.  Sometimes we have to throw the monkey mind a banana.  And Tonglen is one potent and nourishing banana for our whole being.

Whenever we switch to a new practice, it’s usually a good idea to commit to doing it for at least ten days.  Otherwise, our wiley self (ego) can convince us that this isn’t the right practice for us…or this one…or this one… or this one…and then the bell rings and our meditation session is over.  Oh, you rascally ego!

So maybe Tonglen is your practice for a little while.  In the meantime, you and your monkey mind...and perhaps all beings...have been nourished.  And we all need a snack on the way to the beach.

Beginnigs and Endings = Right Now

Where am I going?  Where am I headed?

We focus on certain parts of our lives and expect some sort of solid outcome we can point to.  Yet those parts and the parts of those parts are always beginning and ending.  Coming together and going apart.  Arising and ceasing.  Change is the only constant.  Buddhists call this mark of existence impermanence.  It is a spiritual truth, a reality that permeates everything.

But where am I going?  Where am I headed?

Relax!  Here's the thing.

We start a project that doesn't really come together, and it ends.  But we meet someone on that project who makes us laugh.  We start a friendship with them. Because we start a friendship with them, we spend more time having fun with them. And our house plant dies.  Oops!  So we decide to get a cactus.  This starts a cactus obsession that leads to creating a cacti emporium off of Highway 5, but not with the friend who makes us laugh because her marriage ended and she moved away and so we decided to do this all on our own which feels amazing and powerful and we ask: "How the hell did I get here?"  Beginnings and endings, my friend.  And karma.  But let's just stick to beginnings and endings.

Black Lace Cactus, an endangered species

At the start of every year I get all freaked out that not enough has happened in the year before and that I've got to do more this year.  And where am I headed anyway?  Is this all adding up to anything really?  And on and on and on blah blah blah.  I go meditate.  Aaaaah.  That's better.

Everything that has come before us, all the starts and finishes, beginnings and endings has created a matrix of where we are right now.  And where we are right now lays a foundation for where we will be.  More beginnings, more endings, all happening right now in the time it takes you to read this sentence.

Some say I've done a 360 with my life, yet where I am today actually makes perfect sense when I look at where I was ten years ago.  I can now connect the dots.  And ultimately, I am grateful for where I am.  So just because I can't connect the dots now to my future is no reason to panic.  And when I do panic, I take a moment and tell myself: "Maybe right now everything is perfect.  And maybe I am exactly where I need to be."  Aaaah.  I breathe a little easier and relax in to the present moment.  This relaxation and clarity helps me move forward with intention.

So yes: be mindful of the moment you're in now, for it bears the fruit of tomorrow.  Go where the energy is, do what gives you joy, take your vitamins, remember to water your plants, dream something big and start the first step and just trust.  And try not to despair as things die or end this year.  Beginnings and endings in themselves are neither "good" nor "bad".  They simply are.  And that's life.  Whew.  I feel better now.