Thursday, September 22, 2016

miracle on highway 94.


something very strange happened to me over forty-five years ago that i've never been able to completely understand. it was something that changed the course of my life in a remarkable and wondrous way.

i had already been reading copious amounts of books on world religions, spirituality and meditation. i had already been meditating all over the place: at my gabriola island home, on mexican beaches, in california parks, even inside a hawaiin dormant volcanoe. but, there came a time when i decided i needed or at least wanted guidance, the benefit of someone's experience. i was in mexico at the time, decided to hitch-hike to boulder, colorado, to see chogyam trungpa, but that didn't happen.

what did happen has stayed with me and has always sorta felt like a miracle. this is a longer story, but the short of it is i ended up in windsor, ontario, where i heard of an unusual vippassana meditation retreat happening all the way back in california, in hardly a few days time. it was to be in the sierra-nevada mountains, thirty-one days of silence, and only experienced vippassana meditators were welcome.

in those days the retreats put on by ruth dennison, one of the two north american designated teachers within the lineage of u ba kin, were very infrequent. really, it was all just beginning back then. but, after much pleading, the organizers agreed to let me join... if i arrived at their place in berkley within two days. that was virtually impossible and they knew it, especially considering i could only afford to hitch-hike, especially considering it had just taken me almost two weeks to get from san francisco to detroit.

i don't exactly know why i insisted on trying. my windsor friends tried to talk me out of it. they insisted the timing was all wrong, a complete impossibility. but i was standing on the side of highway 94 outside of detroit with my pack at my feet, arm outstretched and thumb up, later that afternoon. and that's when it happened. almost immediately, a huge sixteen-wheeler pulled over, a rough-looking older guy leaned out his half-opened door and hollered at me to 'come on, get in'.

that guy just drove, into the evening, hardly said much at all. he asked me where i was coming from, where i was headed. that's about it. picking up hikers was actually illegal. he coulda lost his job, his license, but that didn't seem to bother him one bit. not only did he pick up a bonafide, genuine, long-haired hippy freak, he arranged for others to do the same. before he turned south he got on his cb-radio and, in some strange secret code i assumed only the truckers understood, he found out who was coming along behind heading west. eventually, pulling in to a truck-stop, the fellow instructed me to hang around in the dark of the parking lot until i saw a truck with running shoes tied to the back door handles. then, while the driver was in having a coffee or whatever, i was to jump in the cab.

well, that's the way it was, all across the country. one time i had to look for a cowboy hat hanging from the back doors, a brassiere on the antenna, a toy rabbit, a teddy bear. all through the night and well into the next day those guys kept me moving west, until i stood in front of the retreat's organizers in berkley.

to say they were shocked to see me would not really do the moment justice. they were clearly bewildered, not overly pleased, but invited me in, handed me a cup of herb tea and i joined the group waiting to head out to the retreat centre. there were many people there. most everyone was meditating, quiet, i felt as though i'd landed in heaven and the rest, as they say, is history.

post-script: anyone who has read even a few of my postings on this blog knows that i take meditation very seriously. ok, well, at least i am quite careful to present the ancient practice in a seriously down-to-earth and non-flakey way. i freely admit it has not introduced me to a creator, a creative intelligence, a higher power. so this may be the flakiest, most new-agey statement you'll ever read here: the miracle on highway 94, more than almost any time in my life, and there have been others, really felt like the hand of god.





Sunday, September 18, 2016

the harvest moon.


meditation has been the greatest gift i've received in this life, even better than the red bike my uncle norman gave me when i was ten. i wonder what happened to that old bike. i don't know. but meditation's the gift that has just kept on giving. i always say that and i mean it. i like saying that. but, really, what exactly has it given?

it hasn't given me an understanding of the universe. perhaps it never will. perhaps the questions merely get asked with ever more wonder and appreciation. looking at the full moon, a so-called harvest moon, i asked myself again: 'what is that? what exactly is that? what is all this? what am i?' and at the very same time i was thinking: 'holy crap it's beautiful. it's soooo friggin beautiful.'

the buddha was asked: "what have you gained from meditation?" and he answered: "nothing at all." it is highly doubtful he ever said that, but let's roll with it. the mis-quote goes on to say he's actually lost a few things, like hatred, desires, anxiety, fear of death.

i do seem less inclined toward hatred. don't get me wrong. i'm quite capable of getting totally pissed-off. but hating would really be going too far. desire? well, i would venture to say the ol' hankerings have become smaller, simpler, subtler. from that point, however, things begin to go a bit sideways. anxiety? unfortunately, i do feel quite a lot of that at times, specifically when seeing the doctor, dentist or pretty much any medical professional. hell, even unprofessional medical people freak the bezeesus outta me. so i guess maybe that means i haven't exactly lost the fear of death either (?)

all i know is that large harvest moon was hanging in the sky, impossible to ignore, begging the question: 'what the heck is that?' and i simultaneously thought to myself: 'holy crap, that's sooo friggin beautiful.'


Saturday, September 17, 2016

True Generosity, by Suchita Shyam.

The More You Give the More You Have. (this is an excerpt from an article that can be seen in its entirety at www.meditativeawareness.com.

Many years ago a friend turned to me and said, “You have to know that the more you give, the more you have.” I found the statement both enigmatic and enticing.

Giving is associated with offering from one’s own resources to another. How could this be the source of having more? Generosity is a sense of abundance and the ability to share with others, and, as such, is a more expanded state of consciousness. But, it was only upon meeting someone I considered to be highly enlightened that I came to recognize the true glory of giving and generosity.

True generosity is an enlightened state of awareness where all are received and embraced as one’s very own Self. Such an enlightened being creates unity wherever he or she is. To experience the power of true generosity is profoundly moving and enriching.

Over the years, it has become clear to me that the cultivation of generosity expands one’s awareness. It harbours the ability to transform one’s consciousness into the magnanimity of being.  In fact, generosity is the wellspring of infinite gain.

Saturday, September 3, 2016

the trouble i have - part two.


the trouble with writing a blog about meditation is that there's really not much to say. so, in attempting to write something of interest, to perhaps even entertain, one has a tendency to put ones proverbial foot in ones proverbial big mouth, which  brings me to the subject of my last posting.

i have received emails, some supportive, others rather ratty, all about my sexual orientation. so let me say this about that: firstly, any concern about my 'orientation' is kinda ludicrous. however, secondly, just because i quipped about going home with a guy after visiting a gay bath-house does not make me gay. actually going to a gay bath-house and subsequently actually going home with someone from there would suggest i might be gay. but, that was clearly not the case. the real question is: why do i care what anyone thinks about my sexual orientation(?)

be that as it may, many many years ago in a far-off land, i bought a dildo for one of the few girlfriends i've ever had in my life. yes. it was just a kind of a joke. i walked into the shop and was immediately amazed and frankly overwhelmed to see row upon row of dildoes of all different sorts arrayed in front of my wide eyes. so i asked the cute girl behind the counter to make a suggestion. she said, "well, you don't want to choose one that's bigger than 'yours' because you wouldn't want your girlfriend to get used to that." so i grabbed a humongous monster of a dildo and said, "then i guess this'll do." which, of course, sent her into peroxysms of laughter. so then i put that one back and took a tiny little thingy and said, "ok, ok, then this one." she laughed and laughed. it was so much fun, one of the best retail experiences of my adult life.

in the end, i purchased a modest but adequate-looking dildo that i found rather attractive. the sad thing is that my girlfriend actually did end up preferring the dildo to me, not because it was more substantial, not because i was so terrible in bed, not because i was too gay, but because at least the dildo didn't complain afterward about feeling drained or like an empty shell or a shadow of its former self.

the truth of the matter is, if you really must know, i absolutely do have gay-ness in me. i believe we all do. because the truth of the matter is, in my humble opinion, beyond male or female, gay or straight, black or white, this or that, love is love is love, life is life is life. the truth of the matter is i'm just happy i  can still sustain an erect back for a few minutes at a time.

the problem with writing a blog about meditation is that there's really not much to say. how does one articulate the beauty and benefits of taking time out to do absolutely nothing (?) suffice it to say that sometimes, after basketball, after everything, losing myself in the activity of ceasing all activity, in the all-consuming space of universal love, is so remarkably fulfilling, so completely satisfying that i could just stay like that forever. and eventually i suppose i will. think about it. no, really, think about it.


the trouble i have, part one.


the trouble with writing a blog about meditation is there's really not much to say. sit down, close your eyes, or not, and stop doing stuff. bingo. we're done. that's why i like to spice things up a bit by writing about prostates. now that's funny. at least i think it's funny. it's interesting. at least i think it is. my life has been like a seinfeld episode. it's not really about anything. i became a yogi, went to india, sat down for thirty-five years, got up, came back and now i have a prostate issue. that's about it. fortunately, i also have a basketball issue i can write about.

the problem with writing about basketball is that there's not much to say. i have experienced that time waits for no man. nor, i presume, does it wait for any woman. i know for sure that time waits for no man because i am a man and time has not waited for me. i suppose it might wait for some other man, but there have been many examples of it certainly not waiting for me, like in regard to basketball.

time has not waited for me and neither do the young studs i play with, so to speak. i try to keep up. and every so often there are flashes of previous brilliance. but, by and large i've become the guy who gets placed on the team with the best players in order to even things out. i have become that guy. then, once the game begins and the adrenaline starts a-flowing, i inevitably have to pee and then we're back to prostate issues again.

at one point the other day i attempted a turn-around-fade-away jump-shot. the shot fizzled so badly it didn't even make it half way to the rim. it looked so pathetic that somebody said i must've been fouled. everyone just assumed it, because nobody shoots that terribly unless the guy guarding hits your arm. the guy guarding me had actually hit my arm. well, he touched my arm as i shot only, really, it was just a brushing, a gentle feathering. if that was, say, a gay bath-house instead of a gym, we maybe woulda gone home together, and now we're back to prostate issues again. life is a circle, the circle of life.

the problem with writing a blog about meditation is that there's really not much to say. how does one articulate the beauty and benefits of taking time out to do absolutely nothing (?) suffice it to say that sometimes, after basketball, after everything, losing myself in the activity of ceasing all activity is so remarkably fulfilling, so completely satisfying that i could just stay like that forever, and eventually i suppose i will. think about it.