Vipassana Meditation Feb 27
Following the breath. While with the breath the craze of thought is readily apparent. Upper back and neck arching back. Hands tight, fingers rods. Jaw stiff, jutting. Lips contorting. Feet flexed. Breath steady. The sense of a continuous self is tenuous, a series of moments of attention bundled into a chain of me-ness.
Vipassana Meditation Feb 18
Coming back to the cushion after nine days I wonder where I’ve been. Awareness is more consistent during the days but its nothing like when sitting still. Back to the cushion, back to sensation after so much distraction. Delaying tactics. Delaying what I don’t and can’t know of, but think I do. Certainly sensation. Gross sensation as they say. And that means pain. And there’s a response to it that can be seen and understood and so pain isn’t what we think. And the pains themselves, forever subtly changing, even if in their intensity it will seemingly last forever. In listening there is shifting, movement, aliveness.
Such deep aches! I’ve been living with this, going about my days, weeks, months, years, carrying so much within the organism. It’s incredible really that the body and mind can do such a good storage job. Hold it and lock it down with thought. And yet there’s really no need. No one wants it, this task, heavy heavy task. It does a very good job but entirely unnecessarily. Just that we were taught this way, how it’s been done. In sitting still I am finding out simply and clearly what is needed and what is not.
Vipassana Meditation Feb 9
The pain takes me to the edge of what I can stand, the edge of myself even. I suspect this is what karma really is: the actions of the past are right here, embedded within us, locked in as stuckness, as ache, stiffness, tension. What goes around comes around, or maybe never left. We cannot get away with anything. But give it space and dare to feel and pay attention, in an atmosphere of awareness and equanimity and it starts to change, unfold, disperse. This is a right action, a karma undoer. You can’t will a pain to disperse, that’s furthering the same action that got you in this situation in the first place, but you can listen, feel, see, and the purity of that attention determines the rate of change. I just made that rate bit up; it’s not clear to me, but it does seem more instant in more complete awareness and slower in partial attention. Take a simple pain in my jaw. If I’m off somewhere else, thinking about last or this evening. In daily life I might not even notice it. In sitting, the experience is of pain, a bother, nothing much. Hone in on it, and allow it to have an expression, reveal itself and it grows and grows in severity. Keeping calm, watching, it gets so strong, overwhelming almost and then *!* it’s over. No pain. I suspect without the watcher experiencing it’s over in a flash, but in this dualistic game this is how it’s playing out.
Vipassana Meditation Feb 7
Needing less sleep. For so long, I have demanded more sleep. ‘If only I had enough sleep, things would be so much better.’ Now it seems I don’t need so much but this puts me up against the old demand for more. The irrational demand for more sleep is basically terrified, escapism, wanting comfort, more comfort. If I’m not sleeping, what shall I do?
Awake at 0430 as if it was 0830, I sat for an hour, body still unwinding all sorts of tensions and aches. Now into the shoulders. Deep tinges and holdings there, into the neck. This is where I stopped before xmas, and haven’t really got back to it in the depth of the muscles there. And my face is still contorting, jaws, cheeks, lips, even the gums have an ache in them. It seems we dont want to carry this around, and previously I was only vaguley aware that I was doing so: ‘Oh, that old ache in the upper back, it’s nothing, it’s normal, I’ll live with it.’ You can’t get away with it with a meditation practice. But practice is not real life, they say. Yes it is. You are not different in practice than elsewhere. It’s certainly not an escape; quite the opposite.
Vipassana Meditation 6 Feb
Equisite agony, pleasure riddled with pain, bursts of ecstasy, the poor body wracked with aches, the face stiff from society. Staying with the breath, staying with the breath, and in the staying, the one staying getting cleansed, observing more truly. All the while appreciating the realness of it, the simplicity of sitting still and listening, breathing, watching, feeling. I really appreciate this in a world of incessant action with such value and emphasis on doing. It’s so very overrated.
Incredibly centred and energetic throughout the day, completing work tasks with ease, mind clear. And for the first time I was looking forward to returning to the cushion this evening, to resume this ‘work’, despite the agonies of this morning. The feelings are real and I want more of this genuine experience. To come out of suffering, what more is there to do? A rather peaceful session this eveing, drowsy in the middle of it, body not moving very much. Some facial changes, into the mouth and lips where there’s often a deep soreness. Otherwise, staying close to sensation and breath, explosions in stillness.
Vipassana Meditation 5 Feb
It’s easy to think that the watcher is the ‘real me’, my ‘true self’, pure, and that feelings and thoughts are ‘not me’. What gives the game away is the conflict in this situation, the friction between me and what’s going on. How could there be a friction if it was pure watching? No, the watcher, full of ‘should’, likes and dislikes and is subtly distancing itself from sensation and preferring something else, or approving. Today’s agitation turned out to be resistance and dislike to a feeling of nausea Previously I would spend the day fleeing from something, not really sure what, resorting to agitated escape, muddled. Now that I am not who I thought I was, not the pure and true self, even if there is such a thing, and seeing that I am the same as sensation neutralises it.
Vipassana Meditation 4 Feb
It seems it’s more about the body than the mind at the moment. I really did not expect such strong bodywork in this practice. Not bodywork in that I am manipulating the body or energy in some way but bodywork as in the body is working something out. Left alone in an hour of silence, not doing anything outwardly, no movement, it seems to take the opportunity to unwind. This is taking the form or shaking, rotation, juddering, tensing and releasing, swinging, clenching, expressions. Bringing awareness into the head and face set the right arm off immediately, a deep ache at the wrist, arm shaking faster than I can shake it. The lower jaw jutted out. The head shook, mouth slackjaw, the torso rotated in circles until I thought I was going to be sick, the head rotated, the shoulders arched forward, the legs, buttocks tensed, the feet flexed and released. Not all of these simultaneously, but sometimes so. All the while maintaining some kind of equanimity, and sometimes thoughts remembering or planning. Nothing too unusual in the mind and very cathartic in the body.
Wrote to all the staff to warn about someone’s email account being used by hackers, asking for £2000 for a kidney operation for a relative. It’s obviously a scam but I’m afraid some won’t see it as one because they want to help a friend in need. Coincidentally the email came from the account of RZ, who featured in the latest Brockwood ePost, having donated photos to the archives.
Copying a 3TB drive to another 3TB drive, wondering without solution why what fits on one drive is 4GB too much for the other supposedly identical drive. At the same time, filling another drive with video data from the LTO-4 tape machine which whizzes at such a high pitch we have to close the door on it. If one wants to be warm at this time of year, just go to the back room where it’s a balmy 26 degrees. While all that copying was copying, working on edited summaries of talks.
The centre team are back from their breaks and having a staff week and clean-up ahead of the reopening in a week’s time. More facilities staff cutting the overgrown laurel and feeding it to a chipping machine. Amazingly powerful! Crunching substantial branches in seconds, spitting out the chips we’re going to use to pave the paths over to the school. Meanwhile the air conditioning company were here replacing the compressor they replaced two weeks ago, it being too powerful for our needs in the archive vault. CC said there was so much going on, people working everywhere, including up in on of the flat. I said all we need now is the washing machine to be delivered. At that exact moment, along the path that curves through the trees came the washing machine delivery!
We decided not to go surfing. Too windy and the place at Croyde with the sauna and hot tub was booked up. So it’s postponed until March. CS came round at lunchtime and we had a snooze together before I went back to work and she for a walk with a friend. It was so sweet seeing them walk off, arms around shoulders. Women are like that, men not so much, except in India.
Vipassana Meditation 31 Jan 2013
The mind naturally goes back over the day when it has the chance, while sitting, or when lying in bed before sleep. If there is no current concern, there is more space for the day to re-live or relieve itself and of some order to come. The no-current-concern state can come by simply being aware of the breath for a while. In meditation the approach and attitude seems to be far more important than the content. If the approach is right, the content changes on it’s own. If the focus is on content, without an equanimous approach, the content wins out and gets twisted up and gets to continue its reactionary and habitual pattern.
Vipassana Meditation 30 Jan 2013
It’s very simple, listen to each part of the body. It’s not simple because of what the body has been through, what the mind has been through, and suddenly the body is being listened to and the mind is learning how to listen. It’s very simple, each sensation is happening right now. It’s not simple because the brain has ideas about each sensation and decides to like it or dislike it. We are encouraged in this response – like; dislike – so much so that it seems a natural response, healthy even. It’s very simple, you don’t have to do that, to respond in any form of judgement. It’s not simple because even though we don’t have to, the habit of doing, of judging, subtle or not, is ingrained. It’s very simple, habit can be seen within this quieter time, and has chance to understand itself and even to retire. I am a habit and I’ve been given permission to retire. It’s not simple because the brain and nervous system is the most complex structure in the known universe. It’s simple, it has its own intelligence.
Vipassana Meditation 28 Jan 2013
am 1hr
Back to the cushion. Inner smile at doing so. Awake at 4.30, pre-dawn, quiet world. Somewhere there are others doing the same. Before sleeping on my 42nd Birthday I lay on my back for a long while. When lying, on my back is where things happen. On my side is dull, safe. Meditation is nearer when the spine is aligned. Thoughts playing catchup, undoing, getting up to date. Body playing catchup, face expressioning. Same this morning, yet somehow I’d forgotten about the arm shaking, quite what it was like for the body to be doing something without will or choice. Off it went again in grand style. The hour passed by fast. There was no obligtion to stay that long. There was no obligation to do anything, but I want to get back to the cushion. Back to bed now at nearly 6.
pm yoga class
Even though I’ve done no yoga except weekly class my back is the flattest the teacher has seen it. Way less tension throughout. Change your body by sitting still in awareness! Easy.
The beginning of one of my favourite months of the year.
Evening at Chithurst monastery with two friends for the dhamma talk which follows some chanting (in English tonight) and forty minutes quiet sitting. Probably about fifty lay people and twenty monks. The talk was by the Abbott, some pointers for meditation practice. He always surprises me with his worldliness, speaking of browsing the internet, walking through London. A monk’s life is not entirely how I imagine. I get distracted a little from the talk by the monk’s heads. They fascinate me, their shape and hairlessness.
Afternoon at home. Made another intros video. That’s musical intros not dating intros. Discovered that youtube let it be if you use less than 30 seconds of a song, and anything over that gets picked up by their musical analysis algorithms and a copyright notice is given. They seem to let that slide to a large extent too, saying there is a claim but they will allow the video and that they might put an add next to the video. This is just a download link to iTunes. I’m enjoying selecting the music, discounting anything with vocals or voice samples in the intro, and doing it letter by letter. Today artists beginning with D.
This morning hiking with Roland who is visiting Brockwood for a little while. We drove to West Meon then hiked along the old railway then up to Old Winchester Hill. Our usual route. Chatting about this and that, seriously and light heartedly. Usually we are talking about women by the time we reach the top of the hill. After a break, we posed for photos up on the old hill fort.
Me:
Roland:
Alarm is set for 0630. Want to try a regular wake up time now that it’s only getting a little light around then. Starting an Iyengar home course – more about which soon.
Peace
The end of a three day weekend. Yep, my weekends always end on Saturdays. Supper of brown rice and leek fried in coconut oil. This after 20 minutes sitting, after an Iyengar class with Silvia who is still here on her summer visit. Busier classes now that people are back from the summer break – just the adults, with students here next week. I learn so much in an Iyengar class. The subtleties of a pose can be understood while the body is supported using aids, while feeling what the completed pose is like. The strain of moving towards a full pose is taken away, allowing the awareness to explore the anatomy and energetic movements of the asana you are in.
After class I was asking the optimum times to practice per week, having had a start-stop practice since the mid-90s and recently settling into a shorter session six mornings a week, plus a weekly evening class. She confirmed always to leave one day free from asana for the body to rest and assimilate, and recommended four to six times per week. The book Yoga: The Iyengar Way by the Mehta sisters was recommended for its practice programmes Not one review less than 3 stars.
It’s a cliche, but yoga practiced regularly will change your life. Bound to.
Otherwise, I’ve been at Brockwood since the walk on Thursday, not doing very much. Well, we are always doing something, no? My direction in what to do comes from learning about doing things that don’t affect negatively your next doings. This has been my learning for many years, from eating unhealthily today making me tired the next day; taking caffeine today meaning tomorrow I’ve go to do the same; high from drinking or drugs tonight meaning a slump tomorrow or longer; staying up late, grumpy in the morning; watching stuff for the sake of it, meaning the brain has to unwind it and body relax again. So, I’ve been learning about what makes me feel weller the next day, hour, moment. They say live in the now, not for the future, but I will not forsake the future for some weak gratification now. Sounds square but it really is not. I remember in my teens reading in a book about golf. It said the art of golf is to play the ball in such a way that it makes the next play the easiest. It’s like that. Not through resistance, will or effort though. Do and see, see and do.
To the yoga mat: 20 minutes gentle morning stretches.
To the yoga blocks: 20 minutes sitting.
To bed again.
To the station: goodbyes and grey taxi drivers with Skodas.
To the bike shop: gleaming wonder cycles and padded shorts.
To bed again.
To Beaulieu: bus to Hythe.
To the Solent Way: 12km back to Beaulieu. Lanes, pylons, heaths and busy roads. Not the best section.
To home: Fast and safe. News on radio. Paralympic paralysed athletes cheating by breaking toes and sitting on sharp things to raise blood pressure.
To the hacker: Please do as you say you would. Ransom paid.
To the yoga blocks: 20 minutes sitting.
To the television: Sea birds. Then the the return of Vic & Bob. Glad they have been allowed to be weird. Pretty much as much as in Smell Of… and earlier. Funny!
To bed again.
Woke up in the bed of my love, the day lightening outside, the daylight alarm light bright on the left. We lay around a bit, no real hurry, and then while she brushed her teeth I put my legs up the wall, stretching them out after the cycle the evening before. For breakfast we ate homemade yeast free, wheat free bread fried in coconut oil
On leaving I cycled out to Sun Lane then right towards the south, over the bypass and out past the golf course, a 40 minute 8am cycle ahead of me. My first time in that direction. It went well but somewhat too soon after eating. After Cheriton, seeing the open gates of Hinton Ampner House I took the easier route up the hill through parkland but found no way through to the church and the lane beyond. So lifted the Marin over a gate and sped past the front of the house, only then remembering it’s a private home as well as National Trust. Morning! Then it was the country lanes, past estate cottages, farms, and to the long straights of Joan’s Acre and Brockwood Bottom. Back home I felt my heart return to resting and some inner swaying as I sat still to arrive back. Shower. To work.
The contact for paying the ransom said we had 48 hours or the price doubles. In something like a panic, I reiterate the instructions to the Americans, knowing that there are hours until the Californian morning but wanting it fixed now. Come the evening I am still waiting on word. Afterward, answering emails and reviewing remastered audio. Lunch outside hearing stories of Malaysia – hideous insect bites, perfect beaches – and Paris – cut toe and blood on the Eiffel Tower.
The water supply was turned off most of the day, still is, as they fit a new tank in the Edwardian water tower, taking longer than they hoped. Never take for granted free flowing indoor water. Never. We’ve not had it long, us humans, and it is a true luxury.
In the evening, read some letters I’d written 12 years ago, loaned back to me. Correspondence of love. So in some way it ended like it began.
All relaxed and floppy after this evening’s Iyengar class in Winchester. At one stage we used our bottoms to prop up a partner’s tummy in half moon (ardha chandrasana). This was a first. I didn’t have much of a tummy to prop up but it still helped get the correct torso rotation to the wall. Then I hoisted a lady’s ample midriff using my bum. This is a great little class with eight regulars that I’ve been attending for over a year. The teacher is Sandy Bell, who is very knowledgable and gives so much guidance, including some fun partner work. The focus tonight was space between the hips and armpits, elongating, opening. It really helps to have a theme for each class, something I’ll look at when teaching again come autumn. I’m really hoping a visiting Iyengar teacher will stay at Brockwood over the summer as she did last year.
Summer… just a couple of days away. Today’s outdoors lunchtime conversation was also about yoga, talking about the benefits of inversions, and ones you can do without putting the neck at risk: down dog, legs up the wall, half shoulder stand, handstand – for example. No, legs up the wall isn’t a true inversion but has many benefits and is supremely relaxing. Some benefits of inversions: Cardiovascular; Mental clarity; Hormonal balance; Blood pressure regulation; Lymphatic drainage; Nervous system health. But lists of benefits aren’t so beneficial – one has to do it.
I’ll leave you with a picture of my fly – why not? THIS WAY TO THE EGRESS –>
This morning in meditation the mind so incredibly still. It’s there from nowhere, suddenly, if suddenly is without time. Previously, deep fluid breathing during morning stretches, continuing into the first part of the meditation.
Then it was back to the office after a week away for the school camp in Devon. Wading through emails, selecting the urgent ones to reply to first. After a while, remembered the Dragon Dictate system I set up before I left, so continued without typing. It’s still an odd experience, speaking to a computer instead of ‘operating’ it with the keyboard. I read yesterday that the new version of OSX, Mountain Lion, will have voice dictation built in. Mid morning we had a staff meeting, with all the foundation team in attendance, discussing the staff changes taking place this year.
The high winds of yesterday subsided leaving a fair and warm day. After lunch I was sat outside in the sun talking with a friend about the correct response, and some of the other responses, to the crisis in the world, ecologically, politically, religiously, seemingly every way. We talked at length about the perhaps-failed environmental movement. We concluded that we don’t know in the slightest what is really going on here, having explored various avenues over the last twenty years. Can this ‘not knowing’ lead to a new action? And how does true communication take place? It’s clear that this century will see huge changes, if not revolution. Saw another friend’s site online this afternoon discussing the overuse of the word ‘revolution’ where in fact it is hardly ever taking place. Both friends are in the process of writing books – The Birth of a River and The Order of Thought.
The Birth of a River:
This is the story of two unlikely companions travelling from Brittany to Britain in search of a mystical river. Armoran, a child of seven, has a special gift, he can communicate with nature like no other. Pursued and vulnerable, he turns to an old lighthouse keeper to help him carry out his mission.
In a world turned increasingly disconnected and destructive, this allegory sets the stage for a contemporary rural renaissance.
Birth of a River is a transforming novel about the wisdom of innocence, learning to listen to nature, and self-discovery.
The Order of Thought:
Why is it that despite all the outward technological advances of our civilisation, over the millennia we human beings have remained essentially brutal and callous, living in confusion, sorrow and fear?
Why is it that the various “solutions” to our pressing global problems — offered often by the “best of minds” — only seem to make matters worse?
Is it really inevitable that our future should just be more of the same — more exploitation, more war, more destruction, more suffering, more ideological conflicts, more disagreements, more confusion, more misunderstandings and power-struggles?
Is there really no way of overcoming the divisions between science and religion, the intellect and the emotions, the individual and the community, one human being and another, the world we inhabit and us?
Or, could it be that the single root of all our troubles we can find right where we are? Could it be that the source of our general incoherence lies within ourselves? Is it possible for our consciousness to change radically — not in some idealistic “New Age” sense, nor based on accumulated knowledge and prescribed dogmatic patterns from the past? Could we make room for creativity and intelligence? Could every one of us really make a difference?
Springwatch may be over (until Summerwatch then Autumnwatch) but this evening on BBC2 Chris Packham’s new series began: Secrets of Our Living Planet. ‘Science is the art of understanding truth and beauty.’ These days all I really want to watch on TV are nature programmes. The world of humans doesn’t interest me so much, at least not in TV form. Such impressive photography and new sights in episode one alone! Here’s some great footage of a variety of hummingbirds:
…
Today is Fathers Day in many countries. My father is no longer alive so today is a day to remember him. I wish he’d found his way, his correct response to the world. Here’s a picture of him with one of my brothers and I:
Happy Fathers Day!
A restful day, not moving far from bed. Spent some time this morning and late afternoon weeding or de-grassing the gravel at the side of the path coming into the centre. It has gotten very scruffy over the last year, more noticeable when returning from a trip. Having been living out of doors for much of last week, I was feeling like spending time outside, with something of nature. Such a windy day for June.
Watched the film The Soloist having finished the book yesterday. The story is about a homeless musician who dropped out of a prestigious music school in the 70s and is found by a journalist playing Beethoven on the streets of LA. The most touching aspect for me was the deep friendship between the two men, connecting at a fundamental level away from the typical values of society, and the healing nature of music. Reading the book and watching the movie also got me interested in Skid Row, the homeless capital of America. At the time of the book 90,000 people slept rough each night in Los Angeles, Many with mental health issues. I suppose the numbers have only increased since then. I also read some more about Nathanial Ayres, (who doesn’t look very much like Jamie Foxx, who played the part well). I thought Robert Downey Jr was good as the journalist and author Steve Lopez. As is usually the case, the book was better than the film, honest and unsentimental, without much of the unrealistic drama filmmakers feel the need to insert.
I’ve been posting on Pinterest for the 1st time, with a couple of boards on food and pictures I’ve collected from the Internet that I found funny and had previously posted on my Facebook wall. These can be found here. I suspect the female to male ratio of Pinterest users is very high.
Loosely following the football with a mixture of hatred and fascination. Greece and the Czech Republic are through. I heard the pundits saying quite the opposite just before the matches. What I really don’t like about football is the frequent fouling and trying to get away with it. Also the nationalism is quite ridiculous. The actual game I like watching sometimes, especially with others, although today I didn’t see any of the action. The irony of Greece celebrating a sporting victory whilst their economic woes deepen with a repeat election tomorrow is saddening.
While I was away on camp with the school a book arrived called Death Must Die By Ram Alexander. I ordered it for the KFT archives because of the many references to Krishnamurti. I’ve been skim reading the book for references to K, largely referring to the authors struggle with his teachings. Today I also ordered the Red Book by Sera J Beak, having read a list of recommended new edge books on realitysandwich.com and feeling like reading something a little spicy. The list is mainly of books featuring the use of psychedelics for healing, something I see the potential of but have moved away from, personally, favouring yoga, meditation and diet, with simple living.
I’m experimenting with a gentle type of fasting where one skips every seventh meal. So today I had no breakfast and in two days I’ll have no lunch, and in another two days no supper. The principle is that when one isn’t continuously taking food on board the body has more time for repairing and cleansing.
Oh no I’ve filled my head with shit. Diverting fizzy tat that as I lie in bed waiting for sleep, comes back around with a slap. And then I’m asleep and my brain is undoing. Not enough time in a night when there’s all the other gumpf to unwind. From all these years. The media is so much filler. Brain cell stuffing. How much can I fit in before it bursts? Or turns sour like a tumour. Then the tunes get me. If there’s not images bouncing around there are the tunes. And these can be worse, like infinite loops; hooky as hell. Oh no I’ve filled my head with shit, and I want more. I’m a glutton for digits awaiting an exhaustion that’s no relief.
This is home. This shoddy flat in Southsea/Eastney with the cold kitchen, divided from the lounge by the red framed windows and doors. The white grubby kitchen with the dirty hob and the crumbs on the floor. Ice monster living in the top of the fridge, occasionally melting into the salad compartment where the orange juice is kept. Above the fridge sit two boxes of vegetables. Right is Nick’s, left is mine. Ingredients for the week. Longer for onions. The shelves next to the cooking machine hold the staples – pasta, rice, muesli, dried fruit, herbs, spices, millet, bulgar – in jars and bags. I am a part time hippy and a part time fool. I am Adam on the eve of destruction. Nothing to hold me here but excuses and fear.
Falling Awake 