Christmas practice

Christmas is a funny time isn't it? A season of mixed messages, confused intentions, and contrasts. The shops and adverts bill it as a period of overwhelming happiness, good will, festive fun, and good food, but we all know that isn't the whole story. For many people it's one of the most difficult times of the year – and I'm not just talking about people on the bread line or homeless.

Like living in a big city, Christmas can often act to magnify loneliness. If we've got no one obvious to be with, what do we do? If family life is difficult, then spending concentrated time with family can seem like a nightmare. If we're a bit low on money, then how can we fulfil people's gift expectations?

For most of us with family, that's where we end up at this time of year (at one point or another). Maybe we end up seeing more family over Christmas than we do in the rest of the year combined! And no matter how lovely your family is, they do have this amazing ability to push (whether intentionally or not) your most sensitive buttons. The way your parents always bicker, the way your sister says things in a way that annoys you, the way your auntie and uncle are always late, etc, etc. All those decades of history… Old behaviour patterns pop up like a rash. Emotions like frustration, annoyance, aversion, even apathy or anger might bubble up and find ways of expressing themselves in ways you didn't expect (or that you did!).

By virtue of sharing your DNA, family members can often reflect your own traits, behaviours, or views. If it's a generous spirit, an enlightened political perspective, or great cooking skills, then fantastic! Appreciate what they've passed on to you via your genes and what you share. Sometimes, however, it can be traits or behaviours that you're not happy with, sides of yourself you're uncomfortable with. Perhaps even things in yourself that you've worked on changing because you recognised they're not healthy or wholesome ways of acting or thinking. And that can really get your back up!

This is where your daily yoga or meditation practice comes into it's own. On a basic level it provides you with that oasis of calm and quiet – giving you time out from the Christmas craziness. But it also provides an opportunity for you to see things for what they really are, to get some perspective on things.  Was what I said just an old way of reacting to mum fussing over the right way of preparing the sprouts? Am I disengaging from the conversation because I don't like how disrespectful everyone's being to each other? Did I really need to eat that 3rd helping of Christmas pudding or was I giving in to greed and the attraction of the delicious flavour?

If you notice something like this happening, remember, don't be hard on yourself. Just notice, be aware, be still with it. Allow yourself to feel and 100% be with that Christmas pudding bulge as you lie in child's pose. Notice that tightness in the belly as you sit in meditation arising from your annoyance with your granddad's storing in front of the TV, and allow it to be there. Acknowledge and allow yourself to feel lonely if that's what's coming up.

Your practice is more important than ever over a period like Christmas, wherever you are and whatever you're doing. But circumstances often conspire against you. Even if you stay at home, a holiday and time off work means a change in routine which can easily put things out of kilter. Visiting family or having family visit can mean no quiet time by yourself, or having no suitable quiet, undisturbed space to go to. You can feel self-conscious of doing your practice in front of family or in someone else's house. Maybe you haven't got the right equipment (yoga mat, tracksuit, meditation cushion).

But in the end these are all excuses. Go and do some walking meditation in the park. Tell everyone not to interrupt you (or just don't respond to any interruptions). Be flexible about when you do your practice – try 3x10 mins instead of your usual 1x30mins. Make it an opportunity to experiment.

Above all, enjoy the opportunities this period brings for leaning and understanding more about yourself, for letting go, and being present with everyone, every feeling, and every event.

I wish you a contented, mindful and loving Christmas, and a happy new year.

Waiting for the morning star

About 2500 years ago, a young prince from an area just into present-day Nepal, northern India, left his comfortable palace life and went off into the forest in search of what life was all about. He met a number of teachers who taught him how to meditate, and through these methods he achieved amazing states of relaxation, bliss and joy. But still, he felt, something was missing – these states he achieved were very beautiful but they wore off when he came out of it. They were changes in state, not trait.

Bodhi tree much like what the Buddha sat under

So he tried some other things, including fasting. In fact he fasted to such an extreme that he became just a bag of bones and almost died. The legend says that one afternoon he met a milk maid who offered him milk rice sweetened with lumps of honey and he took it. It gave him a boost, and settling himself down comfortably in the shade of a big tree he made a vow: "if only my bones and sinews remain and all my skin and flesh wither away I will not leave this practice place until I have realised full enlightenment".

So he sat all through the night, and as he saw the dawn and the rising of the morning star he woke up completely and fully – not because he was snoozing(!) but in the sense that he realised everything and understood the true nature of the universe. After that he became known as the Buddha – meaning the awakened one.

In the Zen tradition they celebrate the Buddha's awakening on 8th December. In a monastery they would hold a 5-day retreat (called a sesshin) in the days preceding the 8th, and on the last night, sit all night until the dawn like the Buddha did. It's called the Rohatsu sesshin, and here in London we just did the last bit.

So we gathered at the ZenYoga studio in Camberwell on Saturday night (7th) at 9pm, and after a short recap from our Zen teacher Daizan about why we were there, we all had a bowl of milk rice sweetened with lumps of honey (commonly known as rice pudding). Freshly lifted into the Ambrosia sugar high we began our night of celebration: 25 mins sitting meditation, 5 min break, 25 mins sitting, 10 mins walking meditation outside around the neighbouring tennis courts, all the way through to 7am.

At about an hour in I started calculating how many hours there were left! After about 2 hours I needed to open out my cross-legged posture. After 3 hours my back muscles which were holding me upright started getting quite uncomfortable. The hardest period for me was from 12-2am where my body was uncomfortable, I was restless, and it was difficult to stay concentrated. The discomfort in my legs started shouting "YOU MUST MOVE", but I knew the best thing to do was to just encourage it to soften and let it be. It took some effort to resist though. Surprisingly the pain gradually faded into the background – only to move into my left shoulder and the process repeated.

At about 2am I realised just how much I was resisting being in the moment. And somehow that realisation allowed something deep inside to give up its fight. The minutes start flying by. The sound of someone's breathing came into sharp focus for a moment or two and then disappeared. The sound of the second hand of the wall clock became incredibly loud. And that made me remember how physical time goes at a constant rate no matter how much you will it to go faster, or how much you get absorbed. Time is such a funny thing.

By 3am I had an impulse to work out how many sits we'd done, to congratulate myself on how far we'd got. But I had no idea. How many times had we walked around the tennis courts? No idea. But it was bracingly cold each time we went outside (no-one put on a coat or extra layers besides shoes) and so invigorating. I came back inside zinging each time! Sleepy sensations swirled around but never really took hold. My body seemed to stay quite upright without much problem (the back pain had faded), but by 5am the mind started going in and out of dull sleepiness like someone was slowly twiddling the focus knob.

Each time we sat back down, I noticed how the same muscles felt sore, then sorer. I was stretching and trying to relax those same muscles again and again. For a time I was fed up with doing these same movements – there's that resistance again. Then I was grateful for how relieving it felt, then there wasn't even that. There was just the movement, the sitting, the walking, and no me doing it.

At 6am with only one hour to go I got a second wind! Only one hour... well I'd better get down to it then. I'm not sure everyone felt like that though. Glancing around the dojo I saw at least 5 people slowly falling, nodding sideways with sleep!

At 7am we finished, stood up, bowed, and hugged each other. We shared a simple breakfast from what people had brought, and left into the morning sunshine to go home.

Offer the time,
offer the space,
offer our presence,
offer our effort,
offer the support,
offer our willing,
make the intention,
and the rest will take care of itself.

The Evolving Dharma

"The Evolving Dharma" by Jay Michaelson came out just a couple of months ago, and I came across it via twitter linking to a few blogs about it (like this one). It's billed as a "guide to the meditation revolution", charting how meditation and mindfulness have moved from Buddhist monasteries to self-help groups and retreat centres, to classrooms and hospitals, neuro-research labs and academic conferences. It really sparked my interest.

He begins the book discussing what he calls the post-modern, post-Buddhist, mindfulness movement, which has evolved out of Buddhist practice in the last 20-30 years. Mindfulness is now a completely secular set of techniques for what he describes as brain-hacking, or upgrading the software of our brain, and is indeed a flourishing academic subject, government-endorsed practice, and general buzzword in its own right.

In part two he discusses how the more traditional Buddhist pursuit of awakening or enlightenment is evolving in the west, using much of his own experience (mainly from the Theravadan tradition) as the base. He gives a very eloquent account of his months-long silent retreat exploring concentration and the four dhyana (or jhana) states, then his subsequent retreat looking more into insight, and his experiences of the shadow side – what St. John of the Cross called "the dark night of the soul" (which, interestingly, has been the subject of scientific study by Dr. Britton at Brown University).

The subject of the third section is how this "contemplative wisdom" is interacting with our western cultural ideas of religion, spirituality, identity and gender, and is being extended to things like political activism (known as "engaged Buddhism"). He comments on how we're in the age of contributed content (blogs vs. newspapers, etc.), which tends to have the effect of flattening the power structure as people take responsibility for creating their own media. In terms of Buddhism, the consequence may be a decreased emphasis on the role of the guru-teacher. He also talks about the interaction between contemplative practice and social justice, and mentions a few examples of where teachers in the American Buddhist community have fallen foul of their desires.

In general Jay does a great job in describing Buddhism's ongoing journey to the west, looking at its first 100 years of integration and evolution. Being an American he's obviously very US-centric in his description of how Buddhism and meditation practice have encountered "the west". I think most of the trends though are present in Europe (even if the specific teachers he mentions are not), although I'm not sure whether movements such as the Buddhist Jews (so-called BuJus), or queer/gay Buddhists are quite so well-known or outspoken over here. Perhaps this reflects a more progressive or open culture in the US, or maybe just Jay's own background and interests (he's gay and a Jew).

Before reading this book I was worried that this might be another fluffy journalistic account of Buddhism written by someone who hadn't really done much meditation themselves. But I was impressed. Jay has obviously travelled a good way along the meditative journey himself and writes very eloquently about his own experiences. I think this adds a great deal of credence to what he says.

After all, all of us who practice or study yoga, mindfulness, meditation, or zen are actively involved in the evolution of Buddhism to the west. That encounter or dialogue actually comes up more often than you might think – it's a regular topic of discussion at our zen group in London. For example, as Zen students should we wear our formal robes to our weekly meditation session or is a tracksuit more appropriate? Should we bow in gassho to greet each other, or shake hands/kiss on the cheek as you would do in everyday life? Should we chant in Japanese or in English? Obviously we follow our teacher's lead on this, and he must have to think pretty hard about what's most appropriate for the London culture we live in. We're ploughing new and exciting furrows...