To see Karen Armstrong accepting a prize and talking in her inspiring and visionary way about the way forward, click here.
Also, for a wonderful conversation with Karen Armstrong on the American Public Media program "Speaking of Faith", click here. You can listen to the regular radio broadcast, or (my recommendation) go for the longer, unedited version found under "Unheard Cuts". Both are on the same webpage.
Enjoy,
Tal
Friday, January 30, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
War and Ethics in the Buddhist View- Seminar in Tel Aviv
I'd like to share with you an announcement about an upcoming event, that I plan to attend. The questions in the blurb sounds somewhat speculative and theoretical, but I hope the discussion will be more heartfelt. The following is my translation from the original Hebrew announcement:
War and Ethics in the Buddhist View
The first event in the 2009 series: "Many Paths- One Dharma"
Jacob Raz, Simi Levi, Boaz Amichai, Yuval Ido Tal.
Moderators: Avi Peer and Ilan Lutenberg
Friday, February 13, 2009, 9:30am
Seminar Hakibbutzim Teachers' College,
Namir Street 149, Tel Aviv
www.buddhism-israel.org
Buddhism offers a practical way of life that does not avoid dealing with those situations in life that are difficult and threatening, and provoke sharp ethical and moral dilemmas. In the gathering we will discuss such issues, from the Buddhist point of view.
- What lies between going to war to protect our lives vs. killing innocent people on the other side?
- How (if at all) can one maintain an ethical stance (sila) in the heart of fear and violence?
- The principle of non-violence (ahimsa) - does it come into play at the time of war, and if so, how?
- Suffering and Compassion- are they relative or absolute?
- War and the law of Karma - when and how will we pay the price, if at all?
"May Paths- One Dharma" is a series of gatherings on various topics from the perspectives of the different traditions of Buddhism. Each meeting includes guided meditation practice, a panel discussion with teachers in different Buddhist traditions, and time for questions and answers.
The cost of the gatherings is NIS 25 to cover expenses.
The panelists:
Jacob Raz- professor of Japanese studies and Zen Buddhism in the East Asian Department of Tel Aviv University. The author of many books and essays on Buddhism and Zen Buddhism. Teaches Dharma from the psychological perspective in the Psycho-Dharma institute, which he founded and directs. Partner in many activities that promote dialogue and tolerance in Israeli society.
Simi Levi- has been practicing and studying the Dharma for the last 20 years, 4 of which as a Buddhist nun in the Theravada tradition in Thailand. Developer of the "Language of Mindfulness" program, which applies mindfulness practices in educational settings. Leads workshops for educational and professional teams. Teachers Dharma and Vipassana meditation at the Israeli Insight Society.
Boaz Amichai- teaches and is completing a PhD at the department for East Asian Studies at Tel Aviv University. Co-founder and, until recently director, of the "Friends of the Dharma" organization that brings teachers to Israel and organizes courses in all aspect of Tibetan Buddhism. Teaches meditation and Dharma in workshops and courses and dedicates his time to one of the central topics in Tibetan Buddhism, the awareness of death.
Yuval Ido Tal- researches and teaches in the fields of Buddhist philosophy and psychology. Teaches Buddhist and Zen Buddhist meditation. Translates traditional and modern texts in these fields. Studies and teaches in the Japanese Zen Buddhist tradition.
Places are limited in this program, so please register in advance through our website.
www.buddhism-israel.org
Thank you,
The Buddhism in Israel team.
War and Ethics in the Buddhist View
The first event in the 2009 series: "Many Paths- One Dharma"
Jacob Raz, Simi Levi, Boaz Amichai, Yuval Ido Tal.
Moderators: Avi Peer and Ilan Lutenberg
Friday, February 13, 2009, 9:30am
Seminar Hakibbutzim Teachers' College,
Namir Street 149, Tel Aviv
www.buddhism-israel.org
Buddhism offers a practical way of life that does not avoid dealing with those situations in life that are difficult and threatening, and provoke sharp ethical and moral dilemmas. In the gathering we will discuss such issues, from the Buddhist point of view.
- What lies between going to war to protect our lives vs. killing innocent people on the other side?
- How (if at all) can one maintain an ethical stance (sila) in the heart of fear and violence?
- The principle of non-violence (ahimsa) - does it come into play at the time of war, and if so, how?
- Suffering and Compassion- are they relative or absolute?
- War and the law of Karma - when and how will we pay the price, if at all?
"May Paths- One Dharma" is a series of gatherings on various topics from the perspectives of the different traditions of Buddhism. Each meeting includes guided meditation practice, a panel discussion with teachers in different Buddhist traditions, and time for questions and answers.
The cost of the gatherings is NIS 25 to cover expenses.
The panelists:
Jacob Raz- professor of Japanese studies and Zen Buddhism in the East Asian Department of Tel Aviv University. The author of many books and essays on Buddhism and Zen Buddhism. Teaches Dharma from the psychological perspective in the Psycho-Dharma institute, which he founded and directs. Partner in many activities that promote dialogue and tolerance in Israeli society.
Simi Levi- has been practicing and studying the Dharma for the last 20 years, 4 of which as a Buddhist nun in the Theravada tradition in Thailand. Developer of the "Language of Mindfulness" program, which applies mindfulness practices in educational settings. Leads workshops for educational and professional teams. Teachers Dharma and Vipassana meditation at the Israeli Insight Society.
Boaz Amichai- teaches and is completing a PhD at the department for East Asian Studies at Tel Aviv University. Co-founder and, until recently director, of the "Friends of the Dharma" organization that brings teachers to Israel and organizes courses in all aspect of Tibetan Buddhism. Teaches meditation and Dharma in workshops and courses and dedicates his time to one of the central topics in Tibetan Buddhism, the awareness of death.
Yuval Ido Tal- researches and teaches in the fields of Buddhist philosophy and psychology. Teaches Buddhist and Zen Buddhist meditation. Translates traditional and modern texts in these fields. Studies and teaches in the Japanese Zen Buddhist tradition.
Places are limited in this program, so please register in advance through our website.
www.buddhism-israel.org
Thank you,
The Buddhism in Israel team.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Dharmic Social-Political Action Meeting
Here is something that I just received in my inbox. Thought it would be interesting for people to know about. (I've included only the English version, without the Hebrew one)
A Call for Dharma in Action
An invitation to forge our intentions for social-political action inspired by the Dharma and other spiritual paths
It is a great privilege to be exposed to spiritual ways and let ourselves be touched deep inside - we gain the privilege of not being attached to fear, rage and hate; we gain the privilege of understanding that violence leads to more violence; we gain the privilege of realizing the power of an open heart….
This privilege brings with it a great duty – the duty to bring these insights to our wounded society, to use the tools of the Dharma, as well as other spiritual skills, to bring about change in this place.We have a great gift to bring to our society, submerged as it is in a bloody conflict that with time becomes even more extreme, more intractable. Even though we might experience moments of pain, confusion and despair, the spiritual way allows us to see an alternative, to see that this conflict is also subject to the forces of change.
Many of us refrain from acting in the public sphere, from doing political work. But isn’t it time for our voice to be heard? Isn’t it time for the Dharma to act to bring goodness and compassion to this land?The recent war we experienced once again awakens the need for social work inspired by compassion and insight.
We invite you to a gathering where we will crystallize our vision and our way of action as a spiritual-political group. Some of us who have been active in Middleway and other frameworks for several years have some ideas for such activity. We want to invite all those interested in participating in joint brainstorming and action to join us.
An initial meeting will take place on Wednesday, January 28, 2009 18:30 – 21:00 at the Sangha House, 21 Bertanura St., Tel Aviv.
Following this meeting we intend to hold a weekend gathering for study, inner work & planning.
Please let us know if you intend to come:
Aviv: avivsky@gmail.com
Shiri: shirileaf@yahoo.com.au
If you wish to take part in this process but can’t come to the meeting next week please let us know and we will keep you informed.
A Call for Dharma in Action
An invitation to forge our intentions for social-political action inspired by the Dharma and other spiritual paths
It is a great privilege to be exposed to spiritual ways and let ourselves be touched deep inside - we gain the privilege of not being attached to fear, rage and hate; we gain the privilege of understanding that violence leads to more violence; we gain the privilege of realizing the power of an open heart….
This privilege brings with it a great duty – the duty to bring these insights to our wounded society, to use the tools of the Dharma, as well as other spiritual skills, to bring about change in this place.We have a great gift to bring to our society, submerged as it is in a bloody conflict that with time becomes even more extreme, more intractable. Even though we might experience moments of pain, confusion and despair, the spiritual way allows us to see an alternative, to see that this conflict is also subject to the forces of change.
Many of us refrain from acting in the public sphere, from doing political work. But isn’t it time for our voice to be heard? Isn’t it time for the Dharma to act to bring goodness and compassion to this land?The recent war we experienced once again awakens the need for social work inspired by compassion and insight.
We invite you to a gathering where we will crystallize our vision and our way of action as a spiritual-political group. Some of us who have been active in Middleway and other frameworks for several years have some ideas for such activity. We want to invite all those interested in participating in joint brainstorming and action to join us.
An initial meeting will take place on Wednesday, January 28, 2009 18:30 – 21:00 at the Sangha House, 21 Bertanura St., Tel Aviv.
Following this meeting we intend to hold a weekend gathering for study, inner work & planning.
Please let us know if you intend to come:
Aviv: avivsky@gmail.com
Shiri: shirileaf@yahoo.com.au
If you wish to take part in this process but can’t come to the meeting next week please let us know and we will keep you informed.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Letter to Israeli Shambhala sangha from Robert Chender, our mentor
Dear friends,
Winter in New York has come in very cold, with much snow. It has been below zero degrees Celsius for the last week or so, and you have to take off your shoes or boots at the door so you don’t track snow around the house. It feels a long way from Israel, as it is, and yet this 21st century world is so connected that at the same time Israel feels very close, with only the inconvenient matter of a few time zones separating us. Certainly the news and images of the past weeks (it’s of course as easy to read Haaretz or the Jerusalem Post or the Debka File in English as it is to read the New York Times) have brought Israel and Gaza to the forefront of consciousness, to heightened emotion, a heavy heart.
Often when we are faced with a dilemma, a situation which is difficult, we want to take some action to alleviate our pain, or at least alleviate others’ pain. Sometimes we take action, and other times there is no obvious action to take, or we aren’t sure what is the best, or right, thing to do. When we do take action, it may be very useful or maybe not so useful, but in any case the pain of others and ourselves does not go away so easily. It has a quality of grief – there is not much to do, but on the other hand there is a lot to do, which is to stay present, to not avoid our emotions, to allow others to express theirs, and to maintain good cheer in spite of sadness, or in addition to sadness.
I realize that I’m talking to myself, of course, since I’m not with you except in spirit. Please indulge me – perhaps I’m the only one who feels this way, but perhaps not.
Very often we try to justify our anger through the process of blame. Small children learn this very quickly, as a way to avoid punishment for acting on their anger – “it’s his fault, he hit me first”. And of course the one who hit first has his own story – “he stuck out his tongue at me”, and of course the story keeps going back in time, and maybe one of the children woke up feeling bad because his parents were fighting, for example, and acted out his bad feelings, and the other one has a learning disability and is frustrated because he thinks he’s stupid. Each boy feels righteous and angry, and doesn’t understand or really care about the other boy’s pain and sadness, and they take it out on each other because they don’t have the ability to understand their own emotions, much less the emotions of the other.
This story of children isn’t a political allegory, or maybe it is. It’s not about when it’s time to fight, or not – it’s about our tendency to try to make ourselves feel better by justifying our anger or aggression by demonizing the other person. Maybe this does make us feel better, sort of – but then the cycle never stops, because we feel perfectly okay to throw the next punch, because you deserve it. And then it can go on forever, and that can’t make us feel better in the end.
Chogyam Trungpa had as his central metaphor for the enlightened person the ideal of the warrior. This seems odd, at first, but of all the places in the world Israel seems the place where this can be fully embodied. The warrior of Shambhala is the person who has declared victory over aggression, over war. This means that when anger arises, we have a choice – either we can act it out based on our habit, our feeling of righteousness; or we can notice that we’re angry, take a breath or sit for an hour, and then decide what to do, not based on indulging our anger (or any other emotion), but based on what seems to be appropriate in spite of our anger. Anger is just a feeling, usually a reaction to being hurt, and it arises, it stays for a while, and then it subsides, like every other feeling, every other thought. The warrior sits still in the middle of her anger, or her fear, like sitting in the middle of a fire, has declared victory over it, and then acts without taking anger into account. This doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel angry, just that she sees it as unimportant, maybe a nuisance, certainly not the master of the situation, the master of her actions. (This doesn’t mean that the warrior doesn’t fight – it’s that the warrior fights only when necessary, and without anger.)
Where does that leave us? If we’re not carried away with our emotion, we just can feel it and return to the present, return to our breath, and actually feel what we’re feeling, which is often sad. Sadness is the expression, the emotion of feeling the pain of ourselves and others, when we’re in the present time, when we’re not carried away by our thoughts and feelings, when we’re “in our bodies”. The other side of sadness is joy, joy to be present, to be alive, to be able to appreciate the sacredness of our world, which can arise at the same time. This is called, in Shambhala terms, the genuine heart of sadness.
As you know, the vehicle to become a warrior is meditation practice, which is the practice of always coming back, returning to the breath, returning to the present. We can start to feel better because, paradoxically, we’re not worried so much about feeling better, we’re not taking our emotions so seriously. And then we become more intelligent, more able to see things clearly, more able to see others for who they are rather than as some version we have of them.
What we realize on a deep level, not just intellectually, is that everyone else not only has basic goodness, everyone else wants to be happy, suffers, enjoys, loves. And then on top of that is confusion, blame, anger, which is the same as ours. And so if we can see in others the same process that we have in ourselves of creating our world, of creating the other as opposed to seeing that we’re all the same, then we can start to set the example of the warrior in the world.
I send you my love and best wishes, and hope for a long and lasting peace.
Robert.
New York
Winter in New York has come in very cold, with much snow. It has been below zero degrees Celsius for the last week or so, and you have to take off your shoes or boots at the door so you don’t track snow around the house. It feels a long way from Israel, as it is, and yet this 21st century world is so connected that at the same time Israel feels very close, with only the inconvenient matter of a few time zones separating us. Certainly the news and images of the past weeks (it’s of course as easy to read Haaretz or the Jerusalem Post or the Debka File in English as it is to read the New York Times) have brought Israel and Gaza to the forefront of consciousness, to heightened emotion, a heavy heart.
Often when we are faced with a dilemma, a situation which is difficult, we want to take some action to alleviate our pain, or at least alleviate others’ pain. Sometimes we take action, and other times there is no obvious action to take, or we aren’t sure what is the best, or right, thing to do. When we do take action, it may be very useful or maybe not so useful, but in any case the pain of others and ourselves does not go away so easily. It has a quality of grief – there is not much to do, but on the other hand there is a lot to do, which is to stay present, to not avoid our emotions, to allow others to express theirs, and to maintain good cheer in spite of sadness, or in addition to sadness.
I realize that I’m talking to myself, of course, since I’m not with you except in spirit. Please indulge me – perhaps I’m the only one who feels this way, but perhaps not.
Very often we try to justify our anger through the process of blame. Small children learn this very quickly, as a way to avoid punishment for acting on their anger – “it’s his fault, he hit me first”. And of course the one who hit first has his own story – “he stuck out his tongue at me”, and of course the story keeps going back in time, and maybe one of the children woke up feeling bad because his parents were fighting, for example, and acted out his bad feelings, and the other one has a learning disability and is frustrated because he thinks he’s stupid. Each boy feels righteous and angry, and doesn’t understand or really care about the other boy’s pain and sadness, and they take it out on each other because they don’t have the ability to understand their own emotions, much less the emotions of the other.
This story of children isn’t a political allegory, or maybe it is. It’s not about when it’s time to fight, or not – it’s about our tendency to try to make ourselves feel better by justifying our anger or aggression by demonizing the other person. Maybe this does make us feel better, sort of – but then the cycle never stops, because we feel perfectly okay to throw the next punch, because you deserve it. And then it can go on forever, and that can’t make us feel better in the end.
Chogyam Trungpa had as his central metaphor for the enlightened person the ideal of the warrior. This seems odd, at first, but of all the places in the world Israel seems the place where this can be fully embodied. The warrior of Shambhala is the person who has declared victory over aggression, over war. This means that when anger arises, we have a choice – either we can act it out based on our habit, our feeling of righteousness; or we can notice that we’re angry, take a breath or sit for an hour, and then decide what to do, not based on indulging our anger (or any other emotion), but based on what seems to be appropriate in spite of our anger. Anger is just a feeling, usually a reaction to being hurt, and it arises, it stays for a while, and then it subsides, like every other feeling, every other thought. The warrior sits still in the middle of her anger, or her fear, like sitting in the middle of a fire, has declared victory over it, and then acts without taking anger into account. This doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel angry, just that she sees it as unimportant, maybe a nuisance, certainly not the master of the situation, the master of her actions. (This doesn’t mean that the warrior doesn’t fight – it’s that the warrior fights only when necessary, and without anger.)
Where does that leave us? If we’re not carried away with our emotion, we just can feel it and return to the present, return to our breath, and actually feel what we’re feeling, which is often sad. Sadness is the expression, the emotion of feeling the pain of ourselves and others, when we’re in the present time, when we’re not carried away by our thoughts and feelings, when we’re “in our bodies”. The other side of sadness is joy, joy to be present, to be alive, to be able to appreciate the sacredness of our world, which can arise at the same time. This is called, in Shambhala terms, the genuine heart of sadness.
As you know, the vehicle to become a warrior is meditation practice, which is the practice of always coming back, returning to the breath, returning to the present. We can start to feel better because, paradoxically, we’re not worried so much about feeling better, we’re not taking our emotions so seriously. And then we become more intelligent, more able to see things clearly, more able to see others for who they are rather than as some version we have of them.
What we realize on a deep level, not just intellectually, is that everyone else not only has basic goodness, everyone else wants to be happy, suffers, enjoys, loves. And then on top of that is confusion, blame, anger, which is the same as ours. And so if we can see in others the same process that we have in ourselves of creating our world, of creating the other as opposed to seeing that we’re all the same, then we can start to set the example of the warrior in the world.
I send you my love and best wishes, and hope for a long and lasting peace.
Robert.
New York
Sunday, January 18, 2009
To feel or not to feel
To feel or not to feel?
This is somewhat the main dynamic going on for me, and I think for people I meet, around this war. (Yes, I know a ceasefire has been declared, but I don't take that to mean that war is over.)
So, to feel or not to feel all the emotions that this is bringing up?
I find that when conversations start about the war, a main objective behind or under the reasonings, of which there are so, SO many, is to be distanced from the emotions that one is experiencing.
Not to feel horrified and brokenhearted to the core of my being at the sight of dead children, women, men, of grieving parents, partners and siblings, almost falling apart from not knowing how to continue living with the worst nightmare becoming their reality.
No, I can't feel that. What would happen if I did? Would I be able to function? Get up in the morning? Lead a life?
Reasonings, analysis, predictions and scenarios, and above all, justifications. How many justifications are expressed these days. How many rationalizations. Meant to sooth and quell, cool the heat, the underground rumble, threatening to erupt.
What is pushing its way out, sending shoots of liquid fire from between the cracks of dry and crumbling reason?
A bleeding heart, and crying heart, unable to ever dry up or close down completely, even after layers and layers of fear-bred logics, categorizations, views, calculations.
The main virus protection software against bleeding hearts is called "Being Right". There's an old phrase in Israel that was composed as a slogan to try and tame the wildness and recklessness of Israeli drivers (more signs of buried emotions?), which have caused more deaths than all the wars combined.
It says, "On the road, don't be right. Be wise".
Being right. So much mental effort, panicedly cheered on by emotions, is invested in getting to the point where I'm right. I try collecting opinions and expert analyses, reading some articles and ignoring many more, but more than anything, it takes emotional suppression. Because emotions are irrational, and need to be bypassed in order to see clearly and act wisely.
So, the emotions of compassion, empathy, grief, sadness, all need to be bypassed, overcome, and you need to see "beyond them".
I just read an article by an Israeli who refused to take part in this war, when we was sent a draft notification. His main point was, he couldn't disconnect. He couldn't not know, not feel, and so he couldn't do what was needed to be a good soldier. He belongs to a group called "The Courage to Refuse".
The distance that we force from our emotions of empathy doesn't mean that we become blood thirsty, necessarily. It just leads to us being willing to accept other people's devastation and annihilation. Not wanting others, THE others, to die, just willing for it to happen. Justifications and rationalizations follow in order to maintain the distance, keep the underground tunnels of smuggled buried emotions blocked, in case there accumulates a dangerous arsenal of emotions that will rise up and hurt you.
Underlying it all, is fear. And as Pema Chodron says, when you touch fear, you find a soft spot (often described as sadness). And when you touch this soft spot, you find the vast blue sky. Ineffable, uncontrived, ungraspable. But if we don't receive this training and practice it, we can spend our whole life just trying to hold together the patches of thoughts and concepts meant to cover up this basic tenderness.
I'm writing late at night, not very organized, but that's fine by me.
Daily practice: not to work so hard at not feeling. There's no need to work hard at feeling, perhaps just relaxing the grip on avoiding it, and letting things flow. I may not be able to figure out how to be right all the time, but maybe a more basic wisdom lays waiting to reveal itself. Trust in the heart.
"True love is the natural energy of our settled mind, an inexhaustible resource." - Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche
This is somewhat the main dynamic going on for me, and I think for people I meet, around this war. (Yes, I know a ceasefire has been declared, but I don't take that to mean that war is over.)
So, to feel or not to feel all the emotions that this is bringing up?
I find that when conversations start about the war, a main objective behind or under the reasonings, of which there are so, SO many, is to be distanced from the emotions that one is experiencing.
Not to feel horrified and brokenhearted to the core of my being at the sight of dead children, women, men, of grieving parents, partners and siblings, almost falling apart from not knowing how to continue living with the worst nightmare becoming their reality.
No, I can't feel that. What would happen if I did? Would I be able to function? Get up in the morning? Lead a life?
Reasonings, analysis, predictions and scenarios, and above all, justifications. How many justifications are expressed these days. How many rationalizations. Meant to sooth and quell, cool the heat, the underground rumble, threatening to erupt.
What is pushing its way out, sending shoots of liquid fire from between the cracks of dry and crumbling reason?
A bleeding heart, and crying heart, unable to ever dry up or close down completely, even after layers and layers of fear-bred logics, categorizations, views, calculations.
The main virus protection software against bleeding hearts is called "Being Right". There's an old phrase in Israel that was composed as a slogan to try and tame the wildness and recklessness of Israeli drivers (more signs of buried emotions?), which have caused more deaths than all the wars combined.
It says, "On the road, don't be right. Be wise".
Being right. So much mental effort, panicedly cheered on by emotions, is invested in getting to the point where I'm right. I try collecting opinions and expert analyses, reading some articles and ignoring many more, but more than anything, it takes emotional suppression. Because emotions are irrational, and need to be bypassed in order to see clearly and act wisely.
So, the emotions of compassion, empathy, grief, sadness, all need to be bypassed, overcome, and you need to see "beyond them".
I just read an article by an Israeli who refused to take part in this war, when we was sent a draft notification. His main point was, he couldn't disconnect. He couldn't not know, not feel, and so he couldn't do what was needed to be a good soldier. He belongs to a group called "The Courage to Refuse".
The distance that we force from our emotions of empathy doesn't mean that we become blood thirsty, necessarily. It just leads to us being willing to accept other people's devastation and annihilation. Not wanting others, THE others, to die, just willing for it to happen. Justifications and rationalizations follow in order to maintain the distance, keep the underground tunnels of smuggled buried emotions blocked, in case there accumulates a dangerous arsenal of emotions that will rise up and hurt you.
Underlying it all, is fear. And as Pema Chodron says, when you touch fear, you find a soft spot (often described as sadness). And when you touch this soft spot, you find the vast blue sky. Ineffable, uncontrived, ungraspable. But if we don't receive this training and practice it, we can spend our whole life just trying to hold together the patches of thoughts and concepts meant to cover up this basic tenderness.
I'm writing late at night, not very organized, but that's fine by me.
Daily practice: not to work so hard at not feeling. There's no need to work hard at feeling, perhaps just relaxing the grip on avoiding it, and letting things flow. I may not be able to figure out how to be right all the time, but maybe a more basic wisdom lays waiting to reveal itself. Trust in the heart.
"True love is the natural energy of our settled mind, an inexhaustible resource." - Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche
Friday, January 16, 2009
Choices
Last night, at our weekly Dharma Gathering of the Israel Shambhala Meditation Group, we practiced contemplative meditation with short excerpts from Pema Chodron's talk on Practicing Peace in Times of War. Here are the phrases that we used as our objects of meditation:
* War and Peace begin at the level of the human heart. War is the result of hardening the heart. Peace is softening what is rigid in the heart
* We all experience a chain reaction:
- Something happens that causes us to feel uncomfortable
- Something inside us shuts down
- We fan this pain with our thoughts
This is a chain reaction of misery and suffering
* A change of heart requires courage. When we don't do the habitual thing of hardening the heart and holding on to views and opinions, we stay with the basic discomfort that we felt. Here begins the courage- to stay with the soft spot, the uncomfortable place. These are the seeds of peace.
These were the three contemplations that we practiced with. Contemplative practice begins with hearing the phrase, remembering the words and coming back to them, almost like saying them to ourselves internally. Then we allow our thoughts, images, reflections, reactions, etc, to come up in relation to the phrase, examining their meaning and mixing them with our own inner experience. We do this for a while. What may happen is that from this rubbing against the words and their meaning, we experience a certain atmosphere, or ambience, or non-verbal sense of the deep meaning of the phrase, beyond the words. We can stay with this deep experiential understanding, letting our mind rest within in.
This was last night.
Today, I am left with an impression from our practice session. It is quite simple, but feels deeply relevant to so many moments of the day:
We have a choice. We can close down, and we can open up.
Again and again, we can close down- harden the heart, strengthen this hardening with thoughts and rigid opinions, blaming, hating, declaring people as "bad" and "good", villians and saints, self-hate and guilt (a big and tricky way of closing down and hiding out).
And we can soften, and open up, let go of the cowardly rush to slam shut the feelings of uncertainty, fear, pain, helplessness, regret, despair, by the above methods, and many more. We can stay open, or re-open, or at least see the closing down for what it is- a painful habit, based on a reaction to fear, a reaction that itself is founded on forgetting the basic sanity and health of this very moment.
Open up, or close down. Of course, we will do both. I do, over and over again. But knowing that this is the dynamic, and- so important- learning that I have a choice, is the best news that is not making the headlines.
Practicing Peace in Times of War, is the name of Pema's talks (and book, and public programs). What a breathtakingly appropriate phrase, for these days, but for any day, any place. Right now.
* War and Peace begin at the level of the human heart. War is the result of hardening the heart. Peace is softening what is rigid in the heart
* We all experience a chain reaction:
- Something happens that causes us to feel uncomfortable
- Something inside us shuts down
- We fan this pain with our thoughts
This is a chain reaction of misery and suffering
* A change of heart requires courage. When we don't do the habitual thing of hardening the heart and holding on to views and opinions, we stay with the basic discomfort that we felt. Here begins the courage- to stay with the soft spot, the uncomfortable place. These are the seeds of peace.
These were the three contemplations that we practiced with. Contemplative practice begins with hearing the phrase, remembering the words and coming back to them, almost like saying them to ourselves internally. Then we allow our thoughts, images, reflections, reactions, etc, to come up in relation to the phrase, examining their meaning and mixing them with our own inner experience. We do this for a while. What may happen is that from this rubbing against the words and their meaning, we experience a certain atmosphere, or ambience, or non-verbal sense of the deep meaning of the phrase, beyond the words. We can stay with this deep experiential understanding, letting our mind rest within in.
This was last night.
Today, I am left with an impression from our practice session. It is quite simple, but feels deeply relevant to so many moments of the day:
We have a choice. We can close down, and we can open up.
Again and again, we can close down- harden the heart, strengthen this hardening with thoughts and rigid opinions, blaming, hating, declaring people as "bad" and "good", villians and saints, self-hate and guilt (a big and tricky way of closing down and hiding out).
And we can soften, and open up, let go of the cowardly rush to slam shut the feelings of uncertainty, fear, pain, helplessness, regret, despair, by the above methods, and many more. We can stay open, or re-open, or at least see the closing down for what it is- a painful habit, based on a reaction to fear, a reaction that itself is founded on forgetting the basic sanity and health of this very moment.
Open up, or close down. Of course, we will do both. I do, over and over again. But knowing that this is the dynamic, and- so important- learning that I have a choice, is the best news that is not making the headlines.
Practicing Peace in Times of War, is the name of Pema's talks (and book, and public programs). What a breathtakingly appropriate phrase, for these days, but for any day, any place. Right now.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Sound of Music, Fighter Jets, and a Bank Account
The Saturday before last, I was at my parents' house, the same house I grew up in and lived in till I was 22, when Moran and I moved to Berkeley, CA (two years before our move to NYC). That evening the family was gathering to celebrate my dad's birthday, which was actually a few days beforehand.
It was still around noon, and I had some time and went downstairs to my mom's office to practice the saxophone for a while.
This was a few days into this current war.
My parents' house is a few miles away from an air force base. Israel being as small as it is, it is very common to have army bases situated not far from civilian communities. So all my childhood, we were totally accustomed to having army planes fly overhead as they approach their landing or as they are ascending shortly after taking off. Our house being right under the flight route, these planes would fly so close above us that you could make out the pliot's helmet in the cockpit sometimes. I could even make out what jet is was by the sound of its engine. In our house and area, having to stop a conversation to allow the roar of a jet to pass was an everyday experience. We didn't even notice it happening, it was so commonplace.
But jets taking off on a Saturday (i.e. the weekend) was nearly never heard of. The flights were almost always training drills, or routine something or others that I know nothing about. So this particular Saturday, while I was practicing the sax, playing long tones, working on my posture, working on a Charlie Parker phrase, I was struck by the familiar sound of jet engines, which stopped me from my immersion in the music. I looked out the window and saw the familiar sight of 3-4 fighter jets circling one after the other. They assumed their direction southwards. I stood there, tenor sax hanging on my neck, and looked out. I was popped out of my bubble and reminded of what was going on so close by. Gaza is about 30 miles (50 kilometers) southwards from my parents' place.
For a jet, that's probably a few short minutes travel.
It was chilling to think that in a few short minutes, someone, who was not aware of it at the time, may be killed or wounded. Now, of course this is true for every moment in life (death comes without warning), but here it felt like I was witnessing the loaded gun, quite literally.
For a few moments I stood there, pretty frozen from the thought of someone in Gaza not aware of the fact that his or her life is about to end, and before my eyes and ears are the instruments about to make that happen. I realized that this could well be someone about to fire a rocket into Israel, but I was imagining more the other scenario, of it being a civilian, sitting at home, unaware. It was a very sharp feeling of fear and pain.
When I practice that sax, I often have this blank gaze since I'm listening to the sound (and of course to the chatter in my mind). So while I had been practicing, I was blankly gazing around my mom's office, at the bookshelves (always a favorite gazing object), desk, pictures on the wall. Now that I had been shaken up by the sound and sight of the jets overhead, I looked at the desk and notices a yellow piece of paper that I had gazed at before, but hadn't noticed at all what was written on it. Now I saw, it was a bank account number with the first, middle and last name of my parents' former gardner, Nazar. Nazar, who worked for my parents and other families in our community for many years, lives in Han Yuness, southern Gaza strip, with his wife and seven sons. Since about a year and a half ago (and sporadically before that for a couple of years), he hasn't been able to come to work. He hasn't been able to get a permit to cross into Israel.
So the few families in my parents' commnunity that used to hire Nazar (and his brother Rizi) just kept sending him- through bank transfers- his salary. It wasn't that much in Israeli terms, but it was more significant in Gaza- a tightly linked, but still seperate and much poorer economy, by far.
So there I was, with the sax hanging on my neck, jets flying above toward Gaza, and Nazar's bank account number ready for the next money transfer.
Since not being able to come to work, Nazar regularly calls my parents to stay in touch and ask how everyone is. He usually takes his cell phone out to an open field so as not to catch the ears of someone who wouldn't like that fact that he's in (friendly) touch with his Israeli employers. When his son was sick and needed a serious operation, my dad used his connections at Hadassah hospital in Jerusalem (where he works as a hemotologist) and they got the teenage kid out of Gaza, and to Jerusalem for the operation, not an elementary thing to pull off at all. On the way back from the operation, the kid and his mom (Nazar wasn't allowed to join him, just his mother) passed by my parents' home and sat with them for a while. They didn't speak Hebrew (Nazar, from working in Israel for years, speaks it rather fluently), and my parents don't speak Arabic, so they just sat together, my dad checked the boy's scar from the operation while his mother held my mother's arm tightly in hers. After a while, my mom gave them Nazar's salary of that month (in cash, instead of transferring through the bank), and they got in the cab that would take them back to Han Yuness. My mother can still hardly tell this story without getting choked up.
So that evening after all the birthday guests had left, my parents, Moran and I sat around thinking of calling Nazar to see how he was doing. They hadn't heard from him since the war began. But we decided that it might not be a good idea to call him, in case he was not in a place where he could openly talk with them.
Meanwhile, last Saturday, again Moran and I happened to be at my parents' place. My sister and her family live right next door to my parents (in the house where my late grandparents- my mom's parents- used to live, and where I spent many many days in my childhood), and her daughters Mika and Romi were playing outside. Mika and Romi hadn't been going to school for a few days, since although they live 50 kilometers from Gaza, their school is only 40K away, which is in the range of rockets. So they had a few days off from school, but then were sent to a closer school for the time being.
While they were playing, Romi (6 years old) asked my mother whether their bomb shelter was clean and safe (every house in Israel, by law, needs to have a shelter, or a concrete room, if it's an apartment), and my mother reassured her that it was (she had just cleaned it that week, just in case). This is the same shelter we used back in 1991, during the first Gulf War, when I was 16.
Romi also asked, how can the people fighting shoot so much? Don't their guns run out of batteries?
It was still around noon, and I had some time and went downstairs to my mom's office to practice the saxophone for a while.
This was a few days into this current war.
My parents' house is a few miles away from an air force base. Israel being as small as it is, it is very common to have army bases situated not far from civilian communities. So all my childhood, we were totally accustomed to having army planes fly overhead as they approach their landing or as they are ascending shortly after taking off. Our house being right under the flight route, these planes would fly so close above us that you could make out the pliot's helmet in the cockpit sometimes. I could even make out what jet is was by the sound of its engine. In our house and area, having to stop a conversation to allow the roar of a jet to pass was an everyday experience. We didn't even notice it happening, it was so commonplace.
But jets taking off on a Saturday (i.e. the weekend) was nearly never heard of. The flights were almost always training drills, or routine something or others that I know nothing about. So this particular Saturday, while I was practicing the sax, playing long tones, working on my posture, working on a Charlie Parker phrase, I was struck by the familiar sound of jet engines, which stopped me from my immersion in the music. I looked out the window and saw the familiar sight of 3-4 fighter jets circling one after the other. They assumed their direction southwards. I stood there, tenor sax hanging on my neck, and looked out. I was popped out of my bubble and reminded of what was going on so close by. Gaza is about 30 miles (50 kilometers) southwards from my parents' place.
For a jet, that's probably a few short minutes travel.
It was chilling to think that in a few short minutes, someone, who was not aware of it at the time, may be killed or wounded. Now, of course this is true for every moment in life (death comes without warning), but here it felt like I was witnessing the loaded gun, quite literally.
For a few moments I stood there, pretty frozen from the thought of someone in Gaza not aware of the fact that his or her life is about to end, and before my eyes and ears are the instruments about to make that happen. I realized that this could well be someone about to fire a rocket into Israel, but I was imagining more the other scenario, of it being a civilian, sitting at home, unaware. It was a very sharp feeling of fear and pain.
When I practice that sax, I often have this blank gaze since I'm listening to the sound (and of course to the chatter in my mind). So while I had been practicing, I was blankly gazing around my mom's office, at the bookshelves (always a favorite gazing object), desk, pictures on the wall. Now that I had been shaken up by the sound and sight of the jets overhead, I looked at the desk and notices a yellow piece of paper that I had gazed at before, but hadn't noticed at all what was written on it. Now I saw, it was a bank account number with the first, middle and last name of my parents' former gardner, Nazar. Nazar, who worked for my parents and other families in our community for many years, lives in Han Yuness, southern Gaza strip, with his wife and seven sons. Since about a year and a half ago (and sporadically before that for a couple of years), he hasn't been able to come to work. He hasn't been able to get a permit to cross into Israel.
So the few families in my parents' commnunity that used to hire Nazar (and his brother Rizi) just kept sending him- through bank transfers- his salary. It wasn't that much in Israeli terms, but it was more significant in Gaza- a tightly linked, but still seperate and much poorer economy, by far.
So there I was, with the sax hanging on my neck, jets flying above toward Gaza, and Nazar's bank account number ready for the next money transfer.
Since not being able to come to work, Nazar regularly calls my parents to stay in touch and ask how everyone is. He usually takes his cell phone out to an open field so as not to catch the ears of someone who wouldn't like that fact that he's in (friendly) touch with his Israeli employers. When his son was sick and needed a serious operation, my dad used his connections at Hadassah hospital in Jerusalem (where he works as a hemotologist) and they got the teenage kid out of Gaza, and to Jerusalem for the operation, not an elementary thing to pull off at all. On the way back from the operation, the kid and his mom (Nazar wasn't allowed to join him, just his mother) passed by my parents' home and sat with them for a while. They didn't speak Hebrew (Nazar, from working in Israel for years, speaks it rather fluently), and my parents don't speak Arabic, so they just sat together, my dad checked the boy's scar from the operation while his mother held my mother's arm tightly in hers. After a while, my mom gave them Nazar's salary of that month (in cash, instead of transferring through the bank), and they got in the cab that would take them back to Han Yuness. My mother can still hardly tell this story without getting choked up.
So that evening after all the birthday guests had left, my parents, Moran and I sat around thinking of calling Nazar to see how he was doing. They hadn't heard from him since the war began. But we decided that it might not be a good idea to call him, in case he was not in a place where he could openly talk with them.
Meanwhile, last Saturday, again Moran and I happened to be at my parents' place. My sister and her family live right next door to my parents (in the house where my late grandparents- my mom's parents- used to live, and where I spent many many days in my childhood), and her daughters Mika and Romi were playing outside. Mika and Romi hadn't been going to school for a few days, since although they live 50 kilometers from Gaza, their school is only 40K away, which is in the range of rockets. So they had a few days off from school, but then were sent to a closer school for the time being.
While they were playing, Romi (6 years old) asked my mother whether their bomb shelter was clean and safe (every house in Israel, by law, needs to have a shelter, or a concrete room, if it's an apartment), and my mother reassured her that it was (she had just cleaned it that week, just in case). This is the same shelter we used back in 1991, during the first Gulf War, when I was 16.
Romi also asked, how can the people fighting shoot so much? Don't their guns run out of batteries?
Monday, January 12, 2009
Practicing Peace in Times of War, with an emphasis on Practicing
To the degree that each of us is dedicated to wanting there to be peace in the world then we have to take responsibility for when our own hearts and minds harden and close and we have to be brave enough to soften what is rigid in our hearts and find the soft spot and stay with the soft spot. We have to have that kind of courage and take that kind of responsibility and that's true spiritual warriorship. And otherwise it's just a lot of talking about "them" and not taking responsibility for ourself.
-Pema Chodron
[transcribed from the audio recording "Practicing Peace in Time of War", available from Great Path Tapes and Books]
If I could, I would just fill this entry with a full transcription of Pema Chodron's full talk. But I'd rather recommend that you listen to it, or read it, or both. For myself, I listen and re-listen to it, again and again. Moran (my wife) listens to it even more than I do, and during the 2nd Lebanon War, in 2006, while we were still living in New York City, would listen to it every day.
Last Thursday, at our weekly Dharma Gathering, the Israel Shambhala Meditation Group listened to to the full talk by Pema, after a period of sitting meditation. Afterwards, we had a period of discussion.
There were eight of us (we typically have between 8-15 people at our gatherings). We even had with us a fellow Shambhalian from Chile, who was visiting Tel Aviv and about to fly back the next day.
I can't recall all the details from the discussion, but people resonated with the understanding that how we are with our own mind, and in our personal relationships has, as Pema says, global implications. All in all, I think participants appreciated to opportunity to face the current situation in a contemplative setting.
Pema keeps returning to the phrase "when you start to practice this way....", which is key. This is not just a good idea or a comforting thought, it's a call to practice! And this practice, which is on and off the meditation cushion, is challenging. But it's the feeling of actually putting your foot on the path, which is a relief compared to just thinking about it.
So, in short, I highly recommend listening to these teachings. There is a more formal 2-CD set, a book based on these, and a single CD talk, all called Practicing Peace in Times of War. We have all three, and all three are great. The first two are available from Shambhala Publications (www.shambhala.com). The single talk, as well as full audio recordings from Pema's retreats titled Practicing Peace in Times of War, which she co-teaches with Shambhala President Richard Reoch, are available from Great Path Tapes and Books (www.pemachodrontapes.org). I mainly go back to the single CD, more raw, talk (Item A104 in the Great Path catalogue).
The plan for this week is to go back and use short segments from this talk as objects for contemplative practice.
We'll meet at our usual time and place-
Thursday (Jan 15th) at 8pm
10 Birenboim st.
Tel Aviv
My number for more info is 052-567-6577
And our email address is info@shambhala.org.il
-Pema Chodron
[transcribed from the audio recording "Practicing Peace in Time of War", available from Great Path Tapes and Books]
If I could, I would just fill this entry with a full transcription of Pema Chodron's full talk. But I'd rather recommend that you listen to it, or read it, or both. For myself, I listen and re-listen to it, again and again. Moran (my wife) listens to it even more than I do, and during the 2nd Lebanon War, in 2006, while we were still living in New York City, would listen to it every day.
Last Thursday, at our weekly Dharma Gathering, the Israel Shambhala Meditation Group listened to to the full talk by Pema, after a period of sitting meditation. Afterwards, we had a period of discussion.
There were eight of us (we typically have between 8-15 people at our gatherings). We even had with us a fellow Shambhalian from Chile, who was visiting Tel Aviv and about to fly back the next day.
I can't recall all the details from the discussion, but people resonated with the understanding that how we are with our own mind, and in our personal relationships has, as Pema says, global implications. All in all, I think participants appreciated to opportunity to face the current situation in a contemplative setting.
Pema keeps returning to the phrase "when you start to practice this way....", which is key. This is not just a good idea or a comforting thought, it's a call to practice! And this practice, which is on and off the meditation cushion, is challenging. But it's the feeling of actually putting your foot on the path, which is a relief compared to just thinking about it.
So, in short, I highly recommend listening to these teachings. There is a more formal 2-CD set, a book based on these, and a single CD talk, all called Practicing Peace in Times of War. We have all three, and all three are great. The first two are available from Shambhala Publications (www.shambhala.com). The single talk, as well as full audio recordings from Pema's retreats titled Practicing Peace in Times of War, which she co-teaches with Shambhala President Richard Reoch, are available from Great Path Tapes and Books (www.pemachodrontapes.org). I mainly go back to the single CD, more raw, talk (Item A104 in the Great Path catalogue).
The plan for this week is to go back and use short segments from this talk as objects for contemplative practice.
We'll meet at our usual time and place-
Thursday (Jan 15th) at 8pm
10 Birenboim st.
Tel Aviv
My number for more info is 052-567-6577
And our email address is info@shambhala.org.il
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Peace Walk this Friday, Jan 9, in Tel Aviv-Yaffo
Somethings that came down the wire just yesterday. The organizers are Middle Way (www.middleway.org), a Buddhist peace initiative that grew out of the Israel Insight Society, called Tovana (Hebrew for "Insight").
Silent Peace Walk
You are invited to join us for a Silent Peace Walk on Friday, January 9, In Tel Aviv
The silent walk is a call from the heart of individuals, Jewish and Arab, for non-violence and for bringing back trust and sanity into our lives. We call for Opening of the Heart, and for Creating a Change in Reality, even in the presence of fear, war and distress. Come let us bring to the streets a message of humaneness, empathy and compassion towards the pain on both sides, towards anyone aspiring to end the cycle of violence, towards the ability to see beyond the immediate need for defense, so that we can continue to live side by side, also the day after the war. Let us remember that we are all human beings that deserve the right to live, dignity, compassion and humane care.
We will meet in "Bamat Mezag" - a performance space in the (New) Central Bus Station in Tel-Aviv at 10:00 am
After preparation for walking and transmitting a message in silence in the streets, we will walk through Neve Tzedek, the seaside promenade and to Gan HaShnaym in Jafa, where we will hold listening circles. Expected finishing time at 15:00 Please bring water and food for the day Participation in the walk is free and open to all. The walk is an a-political, non-profit, grassroots action.
Each participant is responsible for him/herself (there's no security escort). The walk is funded by contributions from participants.
To arrive to Bamat Mezag, go into the Central Bus Terminal from the 116 Levinski Street Gate (Next to McDonalds) and continue straight through the corridor to the "artist space" for additional details:
Lisa: 054-4896494 Shiri: 054-6313179
Silent Peace Walk
You are invited to join us for a Silent Peace Walk on Friday, January 9, In Tel Aviv
The silent walk is a call from the heart of individuals, Jewish and Arab, for non-violence and for bringing back trust and sanity into our lives. We call for Opening of the Heart, and for Creating a Change in Reality, even in the presence of fear, war and distress. Come let us bring to the streets a message of humaneness, empathy and compassion towards the pain on both sides, towards anyone aspiring to end the cycle of violence, towards the ability to see beyond the immediate need for defense, so that we can continue to live side by side, also the day after the war. Let us remember that we are all human beings that deserve the right to live, dignity, compassion and humane care.
We will meet in "Bamat Mezag" - a performance space in the (New) Central Bus Station in Tel-Aviv at 10:00 am
After preparation for walking and transmitting a message in silence in the streets, we will walk through Neve Tzedek, the seaside promenade and to Gan HaShnaym in Jafa, where we will hold listening circles. Expected finishing time at 15:00 Please bring water and food for the day Participation in the walk is free and open to all. The walk is an a-political, non-profit, grassroots action.
Each participant is responsible for him/herself (there's no security escort). The walk is funded by contributions from participants.
To arrive to Bamat Mezag, go into the Central Bus Terminal from the 116 Levinski Street Gate (Next to McDonalds) and continue straight through the corridor to the "artist space" for additional details:
Lisa: 054-4896494 Shiri: 054-6313179
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Letter to the Shambhala Sangha
Dear Sangha,
Following our recent post about the Israel Shambhala Meditation Group's Dharma Gathering this Thursday, which will include listening to Pema Chodron's talk on Practicing Peace in Times of War, we've received quite a few responses, mostly friends wishing us well and asking how we are. Thanks to everyone who sent us a word.
In case more people would find it interesting to know a bit of how we're doing, here are a few short (late night) thoughts.
I wouldn't try to represent anyone else's experience but my own, so this is not "How things are in Israel". It's just how I'm living this time.
On one level, our life routine is just the same- work, school, home, too much internet news reading. I just got back from teaching music in Acco, tomorrow a gig in Jerusalem. Thursday evening is our Shambhala weekly gathering. Routine.
At the same time,I feel distressed and sad, and brokenhearted.
What I find somewhat surprising, somewhat new, somewhat encouraging is that the pain won't totally freeze into two-dimentional blame. There is a lot of that going on in talkbacks, blogs, op-ed's, political statements. If you want to have a solid black and white view, you can find some expert to back you up with any view you want. You can even switch solid views 10 times a day, or make up your own signature mix of them.
It just doesn't help. The sadness or uncertainty or pain don't go away.
So paying attention moment to moment, and not being lazy so as to get sucked into blame, rage, stupidity. That is the challenge. It's there for the taking, continually. Right now. It's no different from anywhere else.
Interestingly, having come back to live in Israel less than two years ago, I find it much easier to stay open-minded about the situation while living here, rather than glued to the monitor back in New York City. Here I actually meet people, breath that same air as all the people I'd like to categorize as--- red/green/white/whatever. It's actually easier to not fall into the traps of over-attachement to one's identity as red/green/etc, and self-righteousness. Things are just too real (so to speak) to patch up a water-tight story about them. It's actually a relief.
Our group's mentor on behalf of Shambhala and our close friend Robert Chender, in one conversation following one of his visits (in which he taught Levels 1 and 2), told me that the only way to stay sane here (anywhere?) is to suspend judgment. I have checked this everyday since, and I think it's true.
This isn't to say that I don't have views and opinions on the situation. But I try not to grasp them as ways to plaster over feelings of fear, sadness and pain, or any other feeling (anger, for example). I think that's where a lot of problems begin.
Fortunately, I have the practices and the wisdom of our lineage to connect to and train in (plus add to that six years of really good group therapy!). In the last few days, I am finding an extra potency in the fact that we practice the warrior tradition of Shambhala. I feel that these are indeed the teachings for this time, THIS place.
Finally, I just wanted to mention that we don't hear about it in the news, but there are numerous Palestinian/Israeli groups working, meeting, engaging in peace activities as we speak, and as this tremendous suffering is happening. That is also part of daily reality here. It's important to know.
Much love to our beloved sangha, our heart-brothers-and-sisters in Shambhala.
May all beings be free from suffering and the root of suffering.
Ki Ki So So!
Tal
Haifa,
Israel
Following our recent post about the Israel Shambhala Meditation Group's Dharma Gathering this Thursday, which will include listening to Pema Chodron's talk on Practicing Peace in Times of War, we've received quite a few responses, mostly friends wishing us well and asking how we are. Thanks to everyone who sent us a word.
In case more people would find it interesting to know a bit of how we're doing, here are a few short (late night) thoughts.
I wouldn't try to represent anyone else's experience but my own, so this is not "How things are in Israel". It's just how I'm living this time.
On one level, our life routine is just the same- work, school, home, too much internet news reading. I just got back from teaching music in Acco, tomorrow a gig in Jerusalem. Thursday evening is our Shambhala weekly gathering. Routine.
At the same time,I feel distressed and sad, and brokenhearted.
What I find somewhat surprising, somewhat new, somewhat encouraging is that the pain won't totally freeze into two-dimentional blame. There is a lot of that going on in talkbacks, blogs, op-ed's, political statements. If you want to have a solid black and white view, you can find some expert to back you up with any view you want. You can even switch solid views 10 times a day, or make up your own signature mix of them.
It just doesn't help. The sadness or uncertainty or pain don't go away.
So paying attention moment to moment, and not being lazy so as to get sucked into blame, rage, stupidity. That is the challenge. It's there for the taking, continually. Right now. It's no different from anywhere else.
Interestingly, having come back to live in Israel less than two years ago, I find it much easier to stay open-minded about the situation while living here, rather than glued to the monitor back in New York City. Here I actually meet people, breath that same air as all the people I'd like to categorize as--- red/green/white/whatever. It's actually easier to not fall into the traps of over-attachement to one's identity as red/green/etc, and self-righteousness. Things are just too real (so to speak) to patch up a water-tight story about them. It's actually a relief.
Our group's mentor on behalf of Shambhala and our close friend Robert Chender, in one conversation following one of his visits (in which he taught Levels 1 and 2), told me that the only way to stay sane here (anywhere?) is to suspend judgment. I have checked this everyday since, and I think it's true.
This isn't to say that I don't have views and opinions on the situation. But I try not to grasp them as ways to plaster over feelings of fear, sadness and pain, or any other feeling (anger, for example). I think that's where a lot of problems begin.
Fortunately, I have the practices and the wisdom of our lineage to connect to and train in (plus add to that six years of really good group therapy!). In the last few days, I am finding an extra potency in the fact that we practice the warrior tradition of Shambhala. I feel that these are indeed the teachings for this time, THIS place.
Finally, I just wanted to mention that we don't hear about it in the news, but there are numerous Palestinian/Israeli groups working, meeting, engaging in peace activities as we speak, and as this tremendous suffering is happening. That is also part of daily reality here. It's important to know.
Much love to our beloved sangha, our heart-brothers-and-sisters in Shambhala.
May all beings be free from suffering and the root of suffering.
Ki Ki So So!
Tal
Haifa,
Israel
Welcome
Hi,
Following numerous conversation online about the topic, I've started this blog- Shambhala in the Middle East, to offer a place to explore how the principles of Shambhala Warriorship can inform and be mixed into life in the Middle East, and in particular into discussions on the Middle Eastern conflict(s).
I hope this will be a place to contemplate the complicated situation here with openheartedness, compassion and inquisitiveness. Blame games can be indluged in elsewhere. No need for more of that, I think. Raw feelings, though, totally welcome.
Best,
Tal
Following numerous conversation online about the topic, I've started this blog- Shambhala in the Middle East, to offer a place to explore how the principles of Shambhala Warriorship can inform and be mixed into life in the Middle East, and in particular into discussions on the Middle Eastern conflict(s).
I hope this will be a place to contemplate the complicated situation here with openheartedness, compassion and inquisitiveness. Blame games can be indluged in elsewhere. No need for more of that, I think. Raw feelings, though, totally welcome.
Best,
Tal
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