Well, I've been away for a while. Sorry about that. There have been a few things I've wanted to write about in the meantime, but the motivation just hasn't been there. I've been busy. Now, with the change of seasons, changes are at work in my life as well. I'm back in school, now committed to finishing my M.A. in Counseling Psychology with an emphasis in Depth Psychology at Pacifica Graduate Institute. And I'm teaching Taijiquan, too, in my native La Jolla. I am moving into new roles and new communities, and it feels good.
I wanted to celebrate the Equinox by sharing a couple of Chinese poems. The first is an ancient one, from the Shih Ching or Book of Odes, and is supposed to have been written by Emperor Wu of the Han. This translation is by Kenneth Rexroth.
Autumn Wind
The autumn wind blows white clouds About the sky. Grass turns brown. Leaves fall. Wild geese fly south. The last flowers bloom, orchids And chrysanthemums with their Bitter perfume. I dream of That beautiful face I can Never forget. I go for A trip on the river. The barge Rides the current and dips with The white capped waves. They play flutes And drums, and the rowers sing. I am happy for a moment And then the old sorrow comes back. I was young only a little while, And now I am growing old.
The second poem is by the T'ang dynasty poet Po Chu-i, in an excellent translation by David Hinton.
Autumn Thoughts, Sent Far Away
We share all these disappointments of failing autumn a thousand miles apart. This is where
autumn wind easily plunders courtyard trees, but the sorrows of distance never scatter away.
Swallow shadows shake out homeward wings. Orchid scents thin, drifting from old thickets.
These lovely seasons and fragrant years falling lonely away--we share such emptiness here.
Though separated by history, the two poets share in the same literary tradition, and also the same world of nature, image, impermanence, and feeling. Both minds are moved by the autumn winds, the same wind that carries wild geese and swallows on their migratory journeys. Both poets mention the smell of orchids, and share in the same mood of loneliness, melancholy, and, especially, nostalgia.
Autumn is my favorite season, and it always brings me feelings of balance and equanimity--but with that deep sense of calm come the same feelings Emperor Wu and Po Chu-i express in their poems. It reminds me of a few lines of Mary Oliver:
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
The translations of the Chinese poems in this post are from The New Directions Anthology of Classical Chinese Poetry. The quotation from Mary Oliver is from her poem "Wild Geese," in her New and Selected Poems.
In the contemporary American Buddhist scene, we typically hear that all meditation postures are created equal. If you can't sit full lotus (padmasana), you can sit half lotus, and use as many cushions as you want, or sit seiza and use a bench, or just sit in a chair. And if you can't sit in a chair, just lie down. After all, not everyone is Gumby, and if you sit full lotus in the zendo you're probably just showing off. This is certainly the impression that I got growing up (as it were, from 16 to the present) in the dharma scene and I think it continues to be the prevailing sentiment. It is, after all, the politically correct one.
However, I have heard conflicting views from a few different sources. First, I recently received pointing out instructions as well as some very basic tsa lung trul khor exercises from a Tibetan lama who emphasized, repeatedly, that full lotus is the best posture for meditation. She even told a story from her lineage about a monkey who attained the rainbow body by imitating the posture of a monk, and another story about an old monk who attained the rainbow body after having a room full of people help him get his brittle old body into full lotus. Of course, this lama also said that if you can't do full lotus, that's fine, and you should do whatever other posture you can, making sure to keep the back as straight as possible. But she did make it clear that full lotus is the best. I have since found other sources online corroborating this perspective within the Vajrayana. Apparently, padmasana redirects the subtle winds associated with the five organ systems/five emotions into the central channel, thus helping to sublimate negative emotions toward liberation.
My second source for the superiority of full lotus is the teaching of qigong master Chunyi Lin, founder of Spring Forest Qigong. According to qigong researcher (and all around wild and crazy guy) Drew Hempel, Chunyi Lin said that 20 minutes in full lotus is worth 4 hours of any other meditation practice. That sounds like an exaggeration, but Drew has had some pretty far out results from his practice.
Finally, I also remember being taught that full lotus is the best position at the City of 10,000 Buddhas during the several weekends that I spent there during college. We were told that full lotus posture is the most stable for long-term sitting and we were taught specific stretches to help us get into the position with greater ease and less discomfort.
In my personal practice, I have only recently started sitting in full lotus on a regular basis. I have always been able to get into this asana fairly easily, even without using my hands. However, I have mostly meditated in half lotus and only switched to full lotus after having its benefits extolled to me by the aforementioned lama. Since making the switch--aside from having to buy a zabuton to put under my zafu (hardwood floors were killing my knees at first)--I have noticed greater stability and comfort in my my meditation practice, and sitting for longer periods of time is now easier for me. I have also felt more chi flow in my hands despite not really practicing much Taijiquan or qigong lately.
So, there it is, the politically incorrect truth: full lotus is the best posture for meditation. If you can do it, do it. If you currently lack the flexibility, you might be able to work your way up to it by stretching or doing yoga. And it might be worthwhile. And if you have a disability that makes full lotus impossible for you in this lifetime, then of course, do what you can and try to keep your back as straight as possible during meditation.
Whatever posture choose, may your meditation practice bloom like a lotus into full enlightenment.
Jason Miller posted about a dream he had in which Padmasambhava (the 8th century tantric saint who introduced Vajrayana Buddhism to Tibet) and General Guan (the Taoist immortal) said that the Buddhist and Taoist paths were “Pretty much the same thing from where we stand, just the specifics are different and even then some are the same."
So, granted, Buddhism and Taoism employ similar means to their ends. Meditation is key in both systems, and Vajrayana Buddhism and esoteric Taoism both employ sophisticated processes of inner alchemy to produce enlightenment or "immortality." Some of those meditative and alchemical processes are very similar in the way that they work with breath, visualization, and inner energy channels. And of course there has historically been a great deal of cross-fertilization between Buddhism, Hindu yoga and tantra, and Taoism, especially in the regions where Indian, Tibetan, and Chinese cultures have met and intermingled.
Normally I am not a fan of the idea that all spiritual paths lead to the same place. If you look at the traditions, read the texts carefully, and observe practitioners in those traditions, it is obviously not the case. Different traditions employ different spiritual practices which have different results. This is something I came to feel pretty strongly about when I was a Religous Studies major at Humboldt, and I really get tired of hearing the feel-good New Age sentiment that all spiritual paths are "the same." They're not.
Buddhism and Taoism, however, especially in their esoteric forms, are more similar to each other than most other paths. In China, most people are essentially both Buddhist and Taoist and Confucian and practice various elements of Chinese folk religion, as well. Moreover, Taoism strongly influenced the development of the Ch'an (i.e. Zen) school of Buddhism in China, while Buddhism influenced the development of the Complete Reality school of Taoism. And there is quite a bit of overlap between Hindu, Buddhist, and Taoist yoga and qigong practices in terms of posture, breathing, and internal energy work.
That said, what about the end result of the two paths? Buddhism has very clearly defined goals for its practitioners. In the Theravada tradition, this goal is defined as nirvana. The practitioner becomes an arhat, and will never again be reborn in samsara. In the Mahayana, practitioners are encouraged to follow the way of the bodhisattva, aiming for the complete liberation of all beings, and the highest level of attainment is described as samyaksambodhi or perfect enlightenment. But what, exactly, is the goal of Taoism? I'm sure this goal is defined differently in the various schools of Taoism, just as there are variations in the concept of buddhahood and the path to it among the various schools of Buddhism. At least some schools of Taoism do seem to emphasize realization of emptiness or pure, unconditioned awareness in a way that sounds a lot like the goal of Buddhism. They are both essentially nondual spiritual traditions, after all. But some schools of Taoism also promote the pursuit of immortality (defined in various ways), which is not a feature of Buddhism.
Ultimately, I think I am coming to the conclusion that I don't know enough about the various forms of Taoism to draw clear parallels (or perpendiculars) with Buddhism. Does anyone out there know enough about the actual goals of Taoist practice to further my understanding? I would greatly appreciate it.
I came across this video on a Taoist discussion forum some time ago. Yun Xiang Tseng (known as Master Cheng to his students) is a Taoist priest in the Wudang tradition. In this video, he makes some interesting comments on relationships. The discussion gets a bit repetitive, and his accent might be hard for some people to understand, but I think it's worth listening. Below is my five-point summary and commentary. At this point I should probably say that my commentary is written from the perspective of a heterosexual man and that my notes below are intended primarily for other heterosexual men. However, if you change the pronouns, I believe that most of these principles can apply to other kinds of relationships, as well.
1. Don't expect a woman to think, feel, or behave the way you think she should (i.e., like you would, or like a man would). It amazes me how often I hear guys getting frustrated because their partner is not acting 'rationally' or the way that he himself would act. If you expect other people (in general, not just women) to act according to your own values, beliefs, and expectations, you are going to be disappointed and frustrated.
2. Allow the other person to be herself and appreciate her as she is. Don't be disappointed because she is not the person you wanted her to be.
3. Your inability to accept and love another is directly related to your inability to accept and love yourself. Many problems in relationships are caused by a lack of self-esteem and self-love, which leads to insecurity and power games.
4. You need to have a certain level of self-esteem and happiness in your life in order to have a happy, healthy, and authentically creative relationship with your partner. Obviously, if you are depressed, stressed, anxious, or miserable, your relationship is going to have problems and it will be difficult for you and your partner to create children, a family, a business, or whatever else it is that you're trying to bring into the world together. So, your emotional well-being is crucial. By the way, in case you didn't know, there are things you can do to reduce stress and improve your emotional well-being. Things like eating well, getting enough sleep, exercising, practicing qigong, meditating, and living mindfully.
5. In his advice on attracting the right partner, Master Cheng's advice emphasizes self-cultivation, as opposed to outward seeking. I quote:
"Healthy body give ability to house a healthy spirit, and a healthy spirit is able to manifest the glow of love, and the glow of love expand--able to attract the right kind of people. You are not go out and look for your soulmate, your relations person, the great relations person will attracted to your glow of love and come to your life without have to try that hard. Love always on the first sight, we always love to hear that, but love on the first sight is because you are able and capable to emit the glow of light to attract the one who is capable to be synchronized with your energy. So don't busy searching outside, turn inside to improve the quality of your own being."
In my opinion, this is actually the most relevant (and non-obvious) point that Yun Xiang Tseng makes in his discussion. In our culture, as men, we are being sold the message that in order to meet women, we need to go out and take a very active approach: going to clubs, "approaching," getting phone numbers, and in general, trying really hard. This is the message of books like The Game and the entire "Seduction Community" which has a wider cultural influence, especially among young men, than many readers might suspect. These messages appeal to men's feelings of powerlessness, frustration, inadequacy, and fear.
However, my own experience with dating and relationships has been that that kind of effort yields very little reward for the amount of effort that goes into it. In fact, all of the good relationships I've had, the ones that have lasted a while and been satisfying while they lasted, have been brought about seemingly by synchronicity or fate, with very little effort on my part. Taoism has always emphasized effortless action, non-action or wu wei, and it seems that the approach Yun Xiang Tseng is suggesting to finding a partner is a wu wei approach.
Instead of actively seeking, focus on cultivating yourself. Master Cheng emphasizes the importance of having not only a healthy spirit but a healthy body as well. Having a healthy body, being in good shape, leads to living with more joy, more self-esteem, more self-confidence--and confidence is the single most attractive quality a man can have. On a more esoteric level, says Master Cheng, a person who is physically, emotionally, and spiritually healthy emits a subtle energetic glow or radiance that is naturally attractive, especially to people with whom you have a natural energetic compatibility. Once you are in this state, you don't have to go out and look for the right person. You will naturally attract them into your life, and attraction happens naturally, effortlessly. It is, in fact, the most natural thing in the world.
Because there's only one thing that can defeat Chuck Norris.
In all seriousness though, I just got some new cotton-soled kung fu shoes from KarateDepot.com. They are very cheap (about $12 including shipping), lightweight, and comfortable. Actually, the quality of the shoes is better than I had expected when I ordered them. I tried them on this evening and they are almost as comfortable as going barefoot (okay, more comfortable if you are walking on asphalt or other awful modern surfaces).
I had been wanting some lighter footwear, now that the weather here is starting to warm up, and I don't like wearing flip-flops so much anymore because there is a lot of evidence now that they're basically bad for your feet. Kung fu shoes, or rather, the kind of shoes that people wore in China for a long, long time, whether they were martial artists or not, are a good alternative that will protect your soles from broken glass, dirt, needles, little tiny rocks, etc. without sacrificing the ergonomic benefits of going barefoot (minimalist footwear in general, since it lacks an artificial arch, is supposed to help strengthen your feet, ankles, and calves, as well as correct your posture and gait). I have a pair of Vibram FiveFingers, too, but I don't like the extra attention I get from walking around looking like a freak. The kung fu shoes are much more discreet. Plus, retro fashion icon Bruce Lee wore them, so they must be cool.
If you want some, you can get them at about a hundred different places online, or swing by your local Chinatown, if you are lucky enough to have one. There are rubber-soled versions available, too, for heavier outdoor use, but I'm starting with the cotton-soled ones for Taijiquan, qigong, and just walking around the neighborhood.
My old kung fu teacher used to make us train in cotton-soled shoes like these on a waxed concrete floor. He waxed the floor every week. One false move, you were on your ass. That's one way to learn balance.
Yesterday I went to go see an old friend who is pouring tea at Mad Monk Tea in the Ocean Beach neighborhood of San Diego. I had heard about the shop a couple of years ago, when it was under a different name and different ownership, but never made it down to OB to check it out because you had to make an appointment, and they charged something like $35 per hour for private gongfucha/Chinese tea ceremony. Now, it is a much more casual environment where anyone can walk in, sit down, and taste tea. The tea room is a cool, offbeat hole-in-the-wall kind of place. The crowd there is eclectic and the tea selection is very good. We (I brought my sister along) drank a 7-year Imperial (loose-leaf) pu-erh and an Osmanthus Silver Needle "flowering" tea. We both got pretty buzzed on the pu-erh; I could feel the cha qi opening up my meridians. The Osmanthus Silver Needle had a nice honey/apricot flavor and was very soothing after the pu-erh. I thought it would be a good tea to have around for the summer, so I bought two ounces.
Since I first starting learning Taoist health principles, I've really taken to the idea of varying my diet in accordance with the seasons. We all do this naturally, to some extent. In the summer, for example, are you more likely to crave beef stew, or a salad? Since I've gotten into tea, I vary my tea-drinking with the seasons as well. Pu-erh, lapsang souchong, and other black or red teas are my favorite in the winter. This spring, I am drinking mostly Dongding oolong at home, and I have Shizuoka sencha and the Osmanthus Silver Needle for when the San Diego weather gets even warmer in the next few months. I expect the Osmanthus Silver Needle would also be very good iced, although I usually only drink iced tea when it's really hot outside. When fall comes--my favorite season of the year--I will probably gravitate back toward some darker teas. There's nothing like a good cup of pu-erh on a misty autumn morning.
Last night I dreamed that I was at some kind of high school reunion type of event. I remember being in an absurdly crowded room. People were bumping into each other and pushing each other around, and things started to get a little out of hand. I started using the peng or "ward off" T'ai Chi movement in order to clear a little personal space and make my way outside.
Apparently, the hall I had been in just a moment before was in the middle of a Japanese garden. On a patio below, there were some people I knew, including a girl I used to like and a few of her friends, sitting in chairs and watching a movie that was being projected on a screen against a wall. The women were wearing dresses that looked almost like they were from the 19th century American South. The film they were watching appeared to be Shogun.
As I stood there watching, the night breeze picked up a handful of pink blossoms and flower petals and sent them spinning through the air. A few of the women noticed, and we all watched the flowers as they danced through the courtyard. Then there were more of them, and finally a tremendous spray of flower petals began swirling out of a hollow tree trunk and flying magically through the night. The movement of the flowers seemed to defy the laws of physics. It was like something out of a Hayao Miyazaki film. I was amazed, and I remember the physical sensation of smiling as I watched this display, entranced and in awe. I was still smiling when I woke up.
It's the first time in as long as I can remember that I've seen something so beautiful in a dream.
