A casual moment

Last week, after Zazen meditation session, I noticed how one of my students was picking up his Zafu and Zabuton (meditation cushions), and casually dropping them down to the floor. I made a remark about it, and compared the cushions to a powerful book we just finished reading — do we just throw it on the table? do we slowly put it down, in appreciation? do we even notice our movements in these casual moments?

At the Dojo there seem to be many actions that we tend to be casual with; tying our belts, sweeping the mat, and even using the restrooms. The more simple and automatic movements they are - the easier it is to loose tension. Checking the Gi before stepping onto the mat, paying attention to how we sweep, and checking after ourselves may look trivial, yet are keeping us aware. These moments have the power to open a door into a different level of awareness. Keeping our attention on our most simple movements can bring us better results in other areas, too.

Let's take a look at how we grab our partner's wrist, for example. Do we take a moment to observe our partner prior to attacking? do we take their stance for granted? how alert we are when we attack? are we cautious, or hesitant? We strive to develop our martial sense, and through keeping alert we can sharpen sensitivity to our peers and the space around us, and improve our response and adaptability to sudden changes.

I agree that we all need casual moments to relax and unwind. These moments are crucial for maintaining a good life balance. On the same token, we choose to walk a path on which the Way is learned, and the Way starts with some very basic actions: shoes off, bow, put Gi on, tie your belt...

In thanksfulness

Almost twenty years ago, a very good friend of mine told me about a new exercise she started; every morning, as she wakes up, she says thanks for she was granted a new day to live. And every night, before she falls asleep, again, she says thanks for the day she had, while reflecting upon its lessons and experiences. Giving simple thanks for life's moments.

I thought it will be a nice thing to do, and so I started doing it as well, not realizing how deep this practice may penetrate. I still enjoy this simple practice after all these years. Being in thankfulness runs a similar line in most of the world's religions. In Judaism, as soon as opening the eyes in the morning, a blessing is recited, thanking God for retuning the soul with compassion. In certain Shinto sects, one is asking in gratitude to be a pure vessel to God's will. In Islam, the majority of scholars are of the view that prostration for thankfulness is considered as a form of prayer. Some Buddhists consider that to be a Buddhist is to recognize, honor, and be thankful for every single experience, whether pleasurable, painful, or neutral.

From Wikipedia:
Although gratitude is something that anyone can experience, some people seem to feel grateful more often than others. People who tend to experience gratitude more frequently than do others also tend to be happier, more helpful and forgiving, and less depressed than their less grateful counterparts (Kashdan, Uswatte, & Julian, 2006; McCullough, Emmons, & Tsang, 2002; Watkins, Woodward, Stone, & Kolts, 2003)

Being in thankfulness helps us appreciate what is, and takes our focus away from what isn't. We may have more love and respect to those around us, especially those who are the closest to our hearts, those who, at times, are taken for granted.

I am in deep gratitude to God, my teachers, my family, friends and students and this life I was granted. May the holidays bring sweetness and unity everywhere.

Please call me by my true names

Wondering about the human being's true nature, I envision the great range and capacity that is encapsulated within each and every one of us. Influenced by our genetics, upbringing, education, environment and circumstances, we manifest this great array of characteristics into being.

In this poem by Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh I found a clear expression of our humanity:

Call Me by My True Names

Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and
death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time
to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,
and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,
feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his "debt of blood" to, my people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring,
so warm it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life.
My pain if like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.