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Sometime soon after a car accident I was in about a month and a half ago (right before my NYC/FL/PHL trip) I got this weird and painful lump in my jaw. And by painful I mean really annoying, nagging. And you know what's fascinating?

I'm more irritable of late.

Mostly in my head (I hope). But I find myself being much more irritable with the jaw pain going on. It's come and go some, but been around often lately. I've had this experience before...and been on the receiving end of it too. My grandmother has both rheumatoid (??) and osteo arthritis and is in pain continuously - or so she'll admit to in vulnerable moments we've shared. And sometimes she can be...well, irritable.

I know people that are assholes when they're hungry, or get withdrawn when they're sleepy. And, I kid you not, when i was trained in advanced wilderness first aid one of the "by the book" symptoms of hypothermia is "dickhead syndrome" - generally being irritable and aggressive. I dunno what book we were using, but it was really in there, no joke.

What's interesting about this is to me, among other things, is that it has really been reminding me of the importance of mental training, specifically Buddhist training, to recognize experiences as BOTH internally created and externally created... and not be bound to entirely external solutions (which I seem to have limited control over, for as much personal work or organizing I do to change things). I'm getting away from myself though - the experience I enjoy here is that my irritation is clearly, mostly me. People aren't really being dumb, or doing weird aikido, or whatever. I'm just...well, mentally more of a dickhead than usual. "Mentally."

Thich Nhat Hanh once described body and mind as "not two." I really like that. Not "one", exactly, but certainly not two. I think Dogen does call them "one" in the Shobogenzo, but who knows what that's translated from. At any rate, I find that to truly be the case from experience - from training and teaching martial arts for (holy shit: my 20 years mark is coming up!) most of my life I definitely find that shades of aggression, shyness, depression, sneakiness, co-dependency actually have houses in people's bodies. Certain muscle habits and subsequent postural tendencies really seem to be linked strongly to emotional habits. In a sense, when your mom said "don't make that face; it might stick that way" I think she was partly right. Just physically, repeat a "I hate you" face and 1) you're practicing muscle memory, literally strengthening certain patterns in your face, neck, upper shoulders, lower back, etc. and 2) you're practicing a neurological pattern ... or at least an emotionally practiced response. Research shows (heh: "they" say...) that if you just smile a lot, you'll feel a bit happier.

But that means that the situation as is in your life can be addressed from "two" angles, in the duality sense. Yes, get adjustments, stretch and do yoga, take care of your body, eat well (heck, do Aikido and Tai Chi)... because it does effect your mind. Being vegetarian for around a half dozen years now and I can tell you that if I don't get a generally right balance of nutrients it impacts my mood in precise ways. But also doesn't that mean you might be able to effect your posture, musculature, etc. by doing mental exercises? There are certainly a lot of them: Buddhist literature I've read, Japanese zen and Definitely Tibetan, has a ton of Bodhisattva practices to take up. I don't know if the mind can cure cancer or fix your busted foot, but I can't say it's unrelated from these things.

In fact, in my own practice, I can often feel my body take different positions in aikido, more weight underside and extension for example, when I have more of a sensation of open-mindedness and seeing a situation as a whole ... rather than fixating on the attacking hand or some such thing. If this "not two" distinction is true, that's some good news, to me... or at least has seen like good news lately. It means that I have to change a bit less about my external world, and can do a bit more with "what I have" to bring about change.

Though, all of this is kinda bunk, in another way. I feel I came to my practices (mental and physical) through a sense of suffering and wanting to change it, improve my life, etc. (In Tyler Durden's words: "self improvement is masturbation.") But at this point, the whole pursuit of happiness thing seems like ... well, maybe endless. And if you don't enjoy walking an endless road... uh. Maybe try something else if you're interested in enjoying something.

Also, as a related aside, I have a sneaking suspicion my need to be doing "the right thing the right way" is a hiding mechanism. I'm interested in sustainability, mindfulness, etc... but at heart, lately (and especially post-training intensive) it feels like all the "good" stuff is really feeding the same sense of hiding from "life as is" (with questions and unknowns, greater responsibility and openness) as what looks less Buddhist/celebratable/healthy/whatever. I think this is part of why I have a hard time believing something that someone does that seems shitty is very different than what a do-gooder does... as much as I often prefer to be around do-gooders at this point. But that might change. It's kinda a weird preference: if delusion or attempts to hide can take the form of good or bad (which I feel strongly about that they can) then preferences for folks that feed me in a way I "enjoy" seems ... eh. .

Labels: zen

First off, here's the movie we watched last night while making bread and pizza with ingredients from the Anatoth garden, care of Zac Hackney (thanks Zac!).



In it is a section of a talk given by Shunryu Suzuki Roshi, author of "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind" among others. Here is a longer clip of that talk I found. I feel lucky that any footage of him teaching exists, so I want to pass it on. This relates to my understanding of the concepts of "emptiness" and "dependent origination" in the Buddhist context.

Labels: zen

Fun, I just wrote that while listening to a talk by Brad Warner, and immediately after I wrote it I heard him say "Boredeom is good." Doesn't mean we agree on anything, but cute lil coincidence to start with.

I've been enjoying listening to this podcast by Brad Warner from his visit to Atlanta. I often REALLY enjoy his stuff - and by "enjoy his stuff" I think I'm referring to an experience of positively enjoying and gaining language for my own experience. Not necessarily his language... but it often feels like a good conversation.

So something came up in his talk on his blog I wanted to briefly mention. He chats for some time about boredom's relationship to zen, and references one of his first written pieces for the web as "Zen is boring."

I sit some zazen, still. Previously while sitting (and it still comes up now) I realize I sit with this expectation of sitting's goodness for me. Not only will sitting zazen solve all my problems and insecurities, fix my bad posture and improve my health, I'll concentrate better and improve my relationships...but I'll know that it's happening at the time. I'll recognize the taste of that process while sitting.

Yeah, right.

Instead, my thoughts are often more like: "Is this that magical experience? It doesn't feel like it. It feels like I'm just fucking sitting here. I'm not sitting in some magical way, some enlightened process where I recognize my own enlightenment in the process... I'm sitting all wrong! Instead of sitting "correctly," I'm just fucking sitting here, well, just like I would sit here (how horrible). However that is. Well, how is that again? Oh, I guess that is this. This is it."

Often that experience seems pleasant - somewhere between transitioning "actively" and being transitioned, where I seem to drop off knowing not only whether I'm doing it or it's happening to me, but the difference between the two. I dunno what it's really about.

I've started dating someone (Natasha Salazar, if you know her) recently, and there's a lot of wonderful things about that experience. But I feel, at this point, there's some link between something I'm really enjoying about that experience and something I enjoy (but is not necessarily comforting in the "knowing" sense, sometimes) about zazen. She and I often seem to not know what's going on at all. Everything from "how do we kiss?" to "what will we do when she moves to Florida?" Nearly every sentence, it efels, we're meeting in this place of not knowing. The alternative's interesting: pretending to know, or perhaps more accurately, to just go ahead and "cheat" the depth of the experience and "believe" something, or go with something. "I don't know how to kiss her, so I'm going to go with THIS." Moving away from not-knowing mind...because it's uncomfortable, in a certain sense! I mean, the prospect of dating her intensely for two weeks before she moves to Florida's brings up feelings of "holy crap, this may be BIG missing feelings really soon!" The 'alternatives' to not knowing are many, in a sense...but none of them really appeal to me.

In part, they're not really appealing because, well, they're kinda boring. I mean, she and I "decide" our personalities, our stories, and how we will interact with each other... and they perform those roles, roughly knowing what we're doing...maybe adding or taking away something here or there. Ugh, no thanks. In a sense, though, it seems I'm pretty conditioned, in that it seems I have habits to "cheat" and move away from not knowing.

Knowing is kinda boring, really. Not knowing, but still "having to say/do something," is actually quite empty of idea and enjoyable. I don't mean to suggest that for me the experience dating Natasha is the same as sitting zazen... because, in large part, that would mean I'd be able to put a finger on either of those two experiences, which I have a hard time doing. There something very enjoyable about the funny process of trusting and getting to know each other - and our MILLION differences that in a sense seem to create opportunities of not knowing. And there's a similar feeling in sitting.

What is our relationship "supposed to be" given our situation, our feelings, etc.? What is sitting supposed to feel like, moment to moment, given my experiences, "spiritual ripeness" (whatever the fuck that is), etc.? In either case, pretending to know something would be to assume I could also know a HUGE number of other things... What precisely are my feelings (especially given that they seem to be changing all the time)? What IS our situation, really (especially given that they...you guessed it!)? And how ripe am I and how would I know that?

A fun question to end with, in a very concrete and physical sense: How long can you kiss someone with a mind of "not knowing how" before you settle on "like THIS?" How long can you sit zazen with a mind that doesn't settle on a boxed description and plan? Quantity of time is a kinda ridiculous question in a lot of ways... but it seems very interesting and full of meaning as a lens to point out how I can become "dissatisfied": seemingly by experiencing life through a series of plans and good ideas about the next moment or next year, carrying the plans with a mind that purports to know, and then comparing where I am/will be with my idea of where I am.

Not knowing, moment after moment, often has a flavor for me of ... deep, gross and unexpected like forever digging in really fertile soil as it teems with life.

The newest "entertaining" story or plan about life never seems to taste as good as the newest, living, unboxable moment.

Labels: zen

A quickie post while I get my next GTD post together...

For the bulk of my mom's bday present in Dec, my brother and I installed a new closet organizer in the very messy laundry room. While I was cleaning it out, I took stock of what was in there. That's because I follow a pretty straightforward cleaning scheme. See, I like to clean once, and know I won't really have to do it again. To get that feeling of satisfaction, my process uses a few motivating questions to create lists of things and spaces.

First: what does the space look like right now? what is being put where and why?
This means taking stock of, for instance, the flat spaces and what's being put there. What's on the floor? Here you'd create the initial lists of things that are currently being put in the space and the various subspaces. In this laundry room's case, I've got the list at the end.

Next: Take everything out of the spaces and put similar things together.
This gets me to a principle I believe is very important. I don't think people make bad decisions about stuff or other things; I think people (including myself) make the best decisions they can given their perspective. So if you see a few shoes here and there, not knowing you have 30 or 40 pairs of shoes in various spots, you won't make a decision about buying another pair of shoes with the real deep truth of the experience of owning another pair. And that goes for seeing deeply into what you see: seeing the origin of the object, its maintenance costs, and its disposal costs - for you and for others. Seeing the full lifespan costs (physically, emotionally, etc.) of the thing is essential for good decision making.

Last: match spaces and collections by creating intelligent systems that would keep the previous mess from occurring because the system would be easier than not doing it.
It's like the 1 minute filing rule (30 seconds, to me) in GTD. It should be easier to file the thing than not. With very little forward thinking, by comparing the small, systematized/ritualized action to the haphazard tossing of something you should come up with the system each time.

Really, Really Last: See it from all altitudes.
This isn't really about cleaning a space, per se, but more about an attitude to bring to than and other things. Let's say you're making decisions about systems for your shoes... or rubber bands or something. At some point, your OCD warning flag should go off if you're spending too much of your life energy trying to maintain something of little importance. Perhaps it's better to simplify. That doesn't mean, to me, shirk responsibility for the things you have (everything from paper clips to family and friends, seriously); it means acknowledging the cost of the thing and asking deeply whether it's worth it. Hopefully, everything you are willing to touch should be worth it. But no body wants the poetic "life measured in coffee spoons." Donate the coffee spoons, my god. I DO have a place for rubber bands, for instance. But I just toss them in particular corner of my office supply drawer - precisely, but not too precisely. I'm not going to realistically unroll some ziplock bag and put them in. If I get too many of them for my system, I should evaluate why the hell I'm having to deal with this many things. There's a balance between caring too little and not taking responsibility and caring too much and being tunnel visioned. If you were maintaining a zen garden, you might rake your stone walk carefully and lovingly...but you'd probably not get down on your hands and knees and place pebbles with your hands. You've got trees to trim, leaves to rake, food to prepare! Get a life! But not much of a life that you don't care for the thing. The way you care for anything, to me, is the way you care for everything. This would apply to thinking deeply about the green origins of your owned things, your social justice commitments, whether you buy locally or not... the whole system and your place in it. As manifested by your laundry room.

Rambling aside, without further ado, the list. Here's what I found seemed "unsystemed" in the laundry room. For you, some questions: how do you know when you have too many of these things? Can you tell, visually, when that happens? Do you know what to do with the excess when it happens... and do you know how to adjust your system so that, gradually, the excess (which you have to then deal with) doesn't even happen in the first place? Ultimately, how can you take responsibility for what you have, your relationships, and your boundaries so that your life takes a balanced amount of maintenance energy allowing you to actually LIVE?

coats
shoes
vacuums
tools
appliances
dog toys, leashes, etc.
small kitchen appliances
clothes (clean/dirty)
detergent products
hangers (extra, in use)
coupons
extra bulk food
gloves
hats

So? How'd you do on your mental walk through? If it wasn't 100%, it'll happen again in your head. Is it worth tasting the trust in a system for these things so that there's no excess, no lack, and the balance sits strongly? How might that taste? Not perfection, but dynamic, relaxed balance.

Labels: GTD, social justice, zen

Happy new year, everyone!

It's 7:30 and I've had a wonderful morning so far - an exciting way to start the new year for me. I woke up from a dream/nightmare about worries I have with MLK day events at NCSSM I'm helping to plan - wonderful! Very exciting to me to start my year off with worries about diversity education being done well. Then I did some zazen and did one of the morning chants I really enjoy:
Sentient beings are numberless; I vow to awaken with them.
Delusions are inexhaustible; I vow to end them.
Dharma gates are boundless; I vow to enter them.
Buddha's Way is unsurpassable; I vow to become it.

Did a bit of brainstorming on MLK to get those worries out of my head into actionables... something I might not have been able to as clearly do last year. I've made progress in being "cleaner" with my GTD implementation, which is really progress toward, to me, directly facing myself and my worries, interests, capabilities, etc. Also, got up to get my two hakamas and Sarah's hakama out of the washer for hanging. We wash them about once a year (kinda like belts - I was told not to wash mine because of damage to certain parts), and they must be hung dry - so got to hanging them in my room with the space heater on high.

Social justice, GTD, Aikido, Zen all on my mind before 7:30 in the new year. Who knows what this year will bring, but a very pleasant start!

Also - Crapzola, my comments settings were all askew! Til now, only folks with blogger accounts could comment. LAME. Fixed that yesterday, so folks can comment away on my ramblings. :-)

peace & justice in the new year! Ring it in with all you've got!

mike

Labels: aikido, dreams, GTD, social justice, zen

A short story about energy. When I was at Highlander this weekend, I went with very LOW expectations. I was wiped out from a challenging week, emotionally and physically, and my goals were:
* show up
* go to the LGBT activity in the big tent
* enjoy myself a little, at least once

Concentrating those simple, self-sustaining goals actually got me in a great place. Since I know that when I'm not feeling well I prefer mostly solitary time, I decided to volunteer from the get-go. I committed to helping park cars in an orderly fashion, and did so from 9-1:30 or so. There was something particular about having allowed myself to "just do" that activity and already be succeeding that allowed me to loosen up and really enjoy waving cars in. I was ... well, really cute (at least for the first few hours; then I was just fairly cute).

Cars would turn the corner to see me, and I would open my arms wide like I was giving a hug to my best friend. I'd use some goofy body language to wave them on, then pretend to run from their car, in mock fright. Then, eventually, swing up beside their car and direct them to park. Folks, almost without exception, greeted me with warm laughter when I finally finished my antic, just for them.

It was pretty tiring physically in the hot sun, but also energizing. Having hundreds of folks greet me as if they were glad to see me, though I was a stranger, was encouraging. But so was just succeeding at my simple task. With that attitude, I went to the big tent, felt more social and centered, met some great folks (as previously mentioned), and went on to have a great trip, both from a personal sense and from an "organizing" sense in that I made lots of new connections and supported folks in the process.

By taking good care of myself and making achievable goals that matched my energy, I ended up surpassing my low-expectations. But I think, chances are, that if I set out to push myself to meet folks I might not have had the same experience, and might have, instead, come home tired and worn out. At least, this is often how I work. Do a few things very well, and often lots of things fall into place along side them.

Labels: fun, zen

I'm sitting on the campgrounds of the Highlander Center using a bit of my laptop battery. Beth Burch (from ASPYN, etc.) and I carpooled up together together and camped with fellow Durhamites (oops! Just moved to Hillsborough... still a Durhamite at heart) with Shannon, Danni and Mandy. Here's why the trip's rocked, and some realizations about political/personal isolation and groupthink I came to in conversation with some folks I've met here.

First, as far as the rockin' goes: Highlander's a real historic place. Highlander's been a training ground and gathering space (it's on ACRES and ACRES!) for decades, through the labor movement, civil rights, women's movement... since the 30s, this place has housed major social change work. Just standing on the ground rocks, knowing its history. And while a "headline" to the place is that it's where Rosa Parks came before she famously sat on the bus, and while it's had notaries such as MLK here (reported by NPR no less!) as well for training and organizing, it's had thousands of local organizers on every issue come through the doors as well. Folks not as well known, but powerful agents for change. There's about 1000 of us here today, folks already doing incredible things I'm sure, with more to come.

Second, it's cool to meet both elders in movement work and/or (almost always and) folks doing fascinating, essential, and diverse work currently. From immigration rights to marriage reform, from lgbt youth organizing to mountain-top removal, every topic that pops when I'm meeting folks seems so important and interconnected.

Thirdly, I'm meeting folks from Durham for the first time here in Tennessee. There's a lesson here: I need to either find the spaces in Durham that help bring folks together more closely or help organize Durham/Triangle/NC social justice gatherings every once in a while so we can all do more official check ins. Given that I feel pretty darn connected to diverse work and individuals, and that I still feel like I meet a handful of new, essential-to-the-movement and personally wonderful individuals nearly weekly, I think there may be a missing space in Durham. With Stone House becoming a reality, hopefully we can start some sort of regular gathering, check-in, and coalition building of folks doing diverse work in Durham, the Triangle and NC.

But I want to share a thought or two on isolation, as well. I've met lots of folks (fellow social justice types, friends, both..) that seem to battle with isolation and anger, especially in doing community work. In fact, often I think everyone I meet has some longing expressed one way or another. Particularly in folks that do community work, there's this real sense of frustration or isolation sometimes that seems to go hand-in-hand with caring deeply. In a conversation mostly with Alba of El Centro Hispano (a Durhamite I just met! 6 hours to meet someone 20 minutes away), we got to talking about identity and isolation. It went something like this.

After the LGBTQ meeting in the big tent Saturday, we found each other after asking a question of one of the facillitators and realized we were from the same city. Not only that, but we shared similar backgrounds, particularly in our experiences in queer circles. Both of us identified as bi/queer, but she is married to a man and I've dated almost exclusively bi or gender questioning women. We related to each other how while we're often too queer for straight folks...and internally struggle with sometimes not being "queer enough" to be accepted by the lgbtq community!

She gave another example: she's received challenge from white communities saying she's Latina... but Latina communties see her most often as "gringa." This experience of being "other," being "in the middle," being "unaccepted" by groups is a strong theme in lives of folks I know. Cal Allen, a friend of mine, has referred to it as "middle" space - something that I feel we all embody to some degree.

Whether finding the "accepting" church community, the sports bar to call home, the sense of belonging seems to be pivotal to our experience. To be known. This of course plays out in concrete, non-"psychological" ways in discrimination against groups because of a lack of belonging. But I want to focus on the experience of self-identification and the sense of belonging here... and the inherent opportunity for organizing and finding common ground.

Looking deeply during meditation, it seems that I often leave spaces I don't feel "belonging" in to seek out those that seem to "know me." The sense of looking for home is very real in my mind. Even at my dojo, I feel I belong there more than other dojos I've been too, and honestly have great thanks for that space created by Steve Sensei and other students. But I found that when I stayed there long enough, I still didn't feel like I "quite" belonged. It was better, certainly, but is there better still? What would be truly satisfying? How do you meet that sense of belonging?

Well, I guess the "trivial" answer is to accept yourself completely. But that's almost too quick and easy sounding to be worthwhile. Instead, it reminds me most of a sense of "not knowing" or "not seeking." All that seeking for home, when done in a certain way, I'm finding for myself is keeping me from finding it. I'm rambling, but let's see if I can't tie this together.

So, in conversation, I find that it's very fundamentally hard for me to listen deeply. To listen without waiting for my chance to speak. To listen without immediatly categorizing what I'm hearing into relatively neat boxes, all of which I've created through past experience. Essentially, projecting my practiced worldview onto every situation I find and every person I listen to. The compulsive wanting to "know" too quickly - know another person, know what they're saying, know how it relates to me - binds me to never see anything new, and really never to know anyone. If I'm "satisfied" quickly (whether by judging approval or disapproval), I'll not be able to listen deeply, and ultimately, deep down, not really be satisfied.

I think this is where an open, vulnerable heart and mind saves us. In conversation, perpetually holding open the space of "I might understand some, and I want to know more, but I don't think I get it" is a prerequisite for actually seeing the person in front of you and their words, ideas, feelings - and not just interacting with a quickly constructed plastic representation thereof that I "lay over" the actual, unknowable reality as a proxy for it.

Of course, from my undersatnding of one zen perspective, humans are machines built to do just that. The proxy making, and interacting with proxies, isn't going to stop anytime soon. But if I can practice being mindful enough to remind myself of the nature of that process and the ungrasped nature of the present, to bring my mind back to the openness of the situation, I can probably loosen the control of that particular delusion and might be able to really see something or someone new. And here's where the isolation, social justice and organizing potential kicks in.

What are some concrete examples of this? Well, in my mind, looking deeply moment to moment, I have found myself in this situation. Approaching or leaving my car, I may notice a person of color, probably with dark skin. Because mostly of my racial programming, the thought pops into my mind to lock my car. Recognizing the conditioned, racist thought and the process of laying meaning on this situation, I must say to myself, "hello fearful, racist mind! It is you again; it's been some time since we met so clearly. But the reality is not the plastic image you have layed over reality. That person may be a mentor for me, I do not know." But that must be balanced, appropriately, with intution. Having had too many experiences with sexual assault of friends and lovers, I would never say it is appropriate to ignore concerns completely. (Though I will say, for the record, the vast majority of folks who have sexually assualted lovers, friends and co-workers of mine have been acquaintences of theirs, not racial stereotypable folks). But, recognizing this internal representation of the external reality of locking my car, what do I do? Here's is the moment of paradox, of conflicting impulses, where I must act! In deciding what to do, as best I can, never really knowing whether I acted perfectly or not, in the midst of not-knowing I'd have to not-knowingly act as best I can. (of course, analysis helps! Having a training in how I have been conditioned, and a developed ability to dismantle racist concepts, certainly helps in those situations... which actually happen every day, since race, including my own whiteness, actually impacts every moment to moment interaction). Even if that man of color is my friend, again, particularly a man with very dark skin, thanks to my growing up in my parciularly privileged, white position receiving the messages I've received from media, family and institutions, I am unable to avoid the presence of that piece of my history and therefore the voice in my mind. While awake, it doesn't mean I am bound by that small, racist mind to act in accordance with its wishes - but it is there, nonetheless. While deluded, I am moreso unawarely racist. Looking deeply in myself, and doing a lot of personal and community work around these stereotypes, I believe these sorts of plastic, conditioned responses are in us all and may always be there. Much like other parts of my mind that Buddhism more regularly speaks of as causing suffering like anger, hatred, or greedy affection toward something or someone, prejudice and discrimination may be expected to remain in the mind forever as a small-minded voice unable to see the infinite and uncategorizable depth in each of us individually and in the human experience (and others!).

But this is true of myself, as well! I collect plastic ideas, stories of myself, and then often begin a process of finding a group that I expect or hope to "match" me exactly. But not only can I not really know the group exactly, I can't know myself exactly enough to have something to compare it too! I have prejudices and self-judgements, both "good seeming" (stories with a tone of self-esteem) and "bad seeming" (stories with a tone of self-hatred), that I often lay in place of my self. It is those things I seek to find in a group, somehow "matching" those stories and finding a sense of belonging. That would, in theory, cure my isolation.

But I feel that it is never enough, because in practice what I really want is knowing myself, knowing others, and ultimately knowing the collective "THIS" deeply and intimately. And while at first ideas of myself and others might serve as a proxy to that sense of "knowing intimately", it won't really be satisfactory in the end. Of course I do think it is important, in practice, to find folks of similar experiences - but mainly for the purposes of eventually becoming more intimate with ourselves. Sometimes folks of similar experiences have developed a language with which we may need to learn to speak to ourselves and our own experience. Sometimes folks are discriminated against collectively, and for survival come together to resist. Sometimes folks bind together in cultures to help each other with a shared language of self/other knowing. That's good!

But ultimately, it seems we're all often really not perfectly "fit in" in whatever group we're in. Part of the answer may be going to another group. But eventually, and perhaps immediately, it seems essential to bring the "not knowing" mind to ourselves and each other if we really want to reach that sense of intimacy it seems we crave.

And that process is the very approachable practices of mindfulness and meditation - just witnessing the plastic ideas that inevitably run like a stream through the mind and remaining upright with what IS. That may be with the perpetual reminder of the depth and reality of an actual, real person nearby - and not their prejudiced proxy. Or with the depth and reality of ME, unknown to me, as I sit on the cushion. With the unknowable THIS.

Of course, even if the moment of practice is never far away than the ground your standing on, for me for whatever reason it's the hardest, most frightening thing for me. Sitting on a cushion and facing the unknown, moment after moment, when my perpetually fearful mind wants to be "protected" by only interacting with the plastic, proxy world it creates, is my at my most vulnerable. And actually, it's not even "ME" sitting there, since I can't sit there upholding the last bastion of fearful, plastic stories that is my self. It must become, and perhaps has always been, just sitting - without plastic ideas of others, self, or the practice.

But consider the implications of just sitting with each other, too, in the community sense. Ultimately, we are all unknown from each other. We all seem to long for this sense of "belonging," and share that experience of never having our plastic ideas of selves and groups match up perfectly, deep down... which is often thrown in our face when some drama makes "safe" space into "unsafe space" (which therefore, GASP! was never really safe in the first place! "How could we have been misled!" our blaming mind externalizes, unaware of itself). We who have awakened to social justice might do well to remember that even the right (and left, for those that identify often with out of that spectrum entirely) feels this fundamental lack of longing, this isolation. Heterosexual, homophobic gender rules contrain us all, even straight folks - there's a beautiful poster that connects that for me - and those same rules are deeply responsible for an ever increasing tally of murdered trans folks, significant and damaging financial, family and emotional burdens through the absense of the right to marry (and often more importantly, for the thousands of insurance, end-of-life visiting rights, and financial privileges (anyone married filing jointly on taxes reading this?). Ultimately, deeply, plastic realities keep us all isolated from ourselves and injuring others.

So in thinking of belonging, yes, there is a reason to belong to a group. And no one should be able to belong to a group or self-identity that ignores other's rights - I don't have a right to belong to a group that kicks your ass, because "my rights end at your nose," as I believe Suzanne Farr said this weekend. And yes, there is a reason to seek out others of similar experiences. But a sense of "belonging" also may mean, most deeply, a longing to *be*, both without others expections, ideas, and boxes of where we fit dictating or unduely influencing our sense of self... and without our our own as well. Instead, group and individual ideas come and go, but we are always ready to go deeper, to change them, to become intimate with their forever unknown quality when it does not serve us individually or as a people.

But maybe a good first step would be for me to do some sitting before we drive back to Durham. I think I'll do that.

peace,mike

Labels: isolation, social justice, zen