The Magic of Permission

I am who I am, and have the life I have, because I was given permission to.

This fact has been high in my awareness for the last couple of weeks. We are bundles of permissions and restraints, mostly received from others. I’ve written that I sometimes burst into song. I’m able to do that unself-consciously, because I was given permission to. But most people have had that freedom taken away from them. Where there could be a song, there’s silence, instead. Not too long ago, having music at all depended on families, friends, or individuals singing or playing instruments. (Now 99% of our musical intake is recorded and commerical… and with iPods, increasingly isolated.)

I was given permission in my youth to think for myself and research information. Many people have been given restraints in those areas instead, and were given permission only to think the same thoughts, about the same things, that their parents did.

Of course, my youth wasn’t entirely rosy (far from it). Instead of normal permission, I was given tight restraints in the area of doing, such that the doing side of my life is still under-developed. I need to consciously give myself permission to do and experience more.

Sometimes I had to fight for permission. I can see much of how I became a spiritual questor came from fighting in my youth for the right to worship outside of the permitted channel of my parents’ denomination. (It was a long and grueling fight, BTW.)

Gaining permission is not something that ends with childhood, and neither is the grace that it blesses the soul with. And just as restraints and inhibitions are often unconscious, the giving and receiving of permission is often unconscious, too. Also, understand that I’m not writing about permission in its negative view as something bestowed by a “superior” to an “inferior.” I’m talking about blessing, encouragement, affirmation, or just letting another be as they are. The psychological effect is the same: OK-ness. Permission. The lowering of a psychological barrier.

I recently thanked a close friend of mine for the gentle permission he gave me a few years ago to proceed with the next step on my spiritual journey. He was very surprised. He had no idea that much of my spiritual growth over the last several years had its root in a single kind sentence he said to me.

He’s not alone. There are many others. And those are only the ones I’m aware of. When I posted my concerns about blogging a few weeks back, several of you gave me permission to take it farther. Thank you.

To some degree, all of our words are all either contributing to this extending of blessing, or its opposite. C.S. Lewis said that in everything we say or do is helping other become like demons or angels. Another Anglican, John Donne, simply said, no man is an island.

Alan Watts wrote a book on The Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are. For what it’s worth, you’ve got my permission to break it.

What Tarot card am I?

I Am (description) Which tarot card are you?

Okay, I’m not one to litter my very, very proper blog with a lot of silly personality quizzes, like “What Tropical Fish are You?” or “Which Spice Girl are You?” or “Are You Igneous, Sedimentary, or Metamorphic?,” or whatever is out there now.

Yet this one made me laugh out loud for being spot-on. There are “types” among spiritual seekers and mystics, just as anywhere else; some would be: the sage, the crone, the warrior, the priest, the holy fool, the oracle, the wounded healer, the blind prophet. I’m drawn to several of these, but none more than the holy fool, with his openness, innocence, and courage to leave everything behind and strike out on the path. I use the term “holy fool” a bit loosely, though. My picture of the fool is more like St. Francis rather than the Russian yurodivy.

Just ten days ago, a visitor to Kitabu’s satsang asked me “What are you?” and I answered, “I’m a holy fool.” It was cool to see this archetype pop up as the answer to the quiz.

One Day at a Time

It’s been a long time since I first came across Peter Russell’s excellent site. However, one of the more trivial-seeming items on it has been the one that has intrigued me most: he keeps track of his “(ext)age in days”:http://peterussell.com/age.html. Russell notes that “The day is the natural cycle of our lives. The cycle of light and dark, wakefulness and sleep, has more significance than the cycle of the seasons.” Who can argue with that?

I was interested in tracking days for the same reason he was, to think about time differently, and to encourage myself to see each day as a new event, full of all the possibility it contains. But it’s not easy to make that work without having frequent reminders of the number. So, I adapted his Javascript for my own site and have a reminder for myself in the very header of the page. (I also added calculations for how many lunar cycles I have lived, and what percentage of this cycle is complete.) If you’d like to calculate your age in days, go to http://peterussell.com/age.html.

Imagine (interlude)

I went to a peformance of The Mystical Arts of Tibet by monks from the Drepung Lobsang monastery in India. (A wonderful experience, by the way. If you ever get the chance, go see it.) After the performance, I went to the table in the foyer where monks were selling crafts, malas, and books to support the monastery. Among the titles: Imagine All the People: A Conversation with the Dalai Lama on Money, Politics, and Life As It Could Be.

More of us are Imagining!

Posts in this series: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, interlude, conclusion.

Tagged! 5 Weird Things/Habits

OK, I?ve been tagged by friend and fellow blogger Darrell in a cybergame that goes like this:

The first player of this game starts with ?5 weird things/habits about yourself.? In the end you need to choose 5 people to be tagged and list their names. The people who get tagged need to write a blog about their 5 weird things/habits, as well as state this rule clearly, then tag 5 more victims. Don’t forget to leave your victim a comment that says ?you’re tagged!? in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

Hard to limit myself to just five, but here they are:

1. I burst into song at the drop of a hat. Any hat. Perhaps I was raised on too many musicals as a youngster. I thought it would be cool if people spontaneously burst into singing to express themselves in real life; I started doing it, and haven’t stopped.

2. It’s virtually gone now, but milk used to taste colors to me. Yes, you read that right. Especially during my undergrad years, I tasted milk on a spectrum of yellow-to-blue. Fresh milk was yellow (meaning delicious!) and less fresh milk moved into the blue zone. Stale was dark blue, and sour, black. Also, skim milk tended to taste just a tad bluer, or less yellow, than whole milk, no matter how fresh it was.

I learned that this cross-sensory perception is called synesthesia. Apparently many composers have it. Olivier Messiaen wrote about composing “stain-glass window chords,” Scriabin and Rimsky-Korsakov heard specific musical keys as colors. Music-color synesthesia might have helped during those years, as I was a composition major. But noooooo, I got milk-color!

3. I used to save my pennies, then Scotch-tape together in short stacks of five or ten. Then I’d carry them in my pocket to spend them as ordinary change. When a cashier was suprised to be handed one of those mini-rolls, I explained “it’s a fat nickle (or dime),” as if it were the most natural thing in the world. (Most of them didn’t like this.)
4. Anagrams. I love them, but there are no anagrams for Jon Zuck. However, “Jon Meyer Zuck” converts to:

MERE COZY JUNK and
ZEN MUCKER JOY.

5. I love alternate writing systems. I developed the first computer font for an alternative English alphabet known variously as the Second Shaw alphabet, or Quickscript, or the Read Alphabet. Here’s a copy of the Lord’s Prayer in that font:

Lord's Prayer in Read Alphabet

I also developed my own personal shorthand. It’s a mixture of Gregg, Quickscript, and my own stuff.

Be it known to all, that on this 30th day of July, in this the year of our Lord 2006, I do hereby tag:
Ryan, Zach, Julie, Bob, and Meredith

Hiding from God

I’ve occasionally mentioned that I’m not very consistent spiritually, as in my I’m not Johnny Contemplative post. But that’s an understatement. If any of you think that I bound out of bed, greeting This with my whole being, ready to sit a few minutes in sublime meditation before eating a healthy breakfast, nothing could really be further from the truth. My usual morning starts with:

1. Throwing pillows at Talbot when he starts pestering me to feed him (Usually about a hour before I intend to get up). His tricks are anything from opening my CD player and knocking the disc out of it, to chewing on my piles of unsorted, undealt-with junk mail, or lately, gnawing on books. This week, he got into Sudoku and The Upanishads. Smart cat. Unfortunately, he’s also smart enough to know pillows don’t hurt.

2. After second or third pillow throw, get up (cursing), feed cat, try not to trip on mail.

3. Go back to bed, making sure alarm is set.

4. Turn alarm off (Zen alarm clock?yeah that part of my life really is Zen?whoo-hoo!), reset it and go back to bed.

5. Turn alarm off again, reset it, and go back to bed.

6. Hit snooze button, and go back to bed.

7. Hit snooze button, and go back to bed.

8. Realize it’s now a half-hour after I intended to wake up, say, “oh shit!” turn off Zen alarm, turn on NPR, and decide if I have time enough to shower and shave before I have to leave. Do so if I do. Brush teeth.

9. Make a note that I really need to empty Talbot’s littlerbox soon. Hurriedly get dressed.

10. Drive (or carpool) to work, with a quick stop to 7-11 to buy a triple-cholesterol puckwich and the first of what will be two or three Big Gulps or equivalent non-coffeenated Diet Pepsified caffeine hits.

11. Arrive at work, simultaneously tired and hyper.

(Three hours later… actually begin to wake up.)

My evenings have usually been better… I blog, read blogs, surf all manner of junk on the Net, solve some sudoku, watch a little TV or a video, sometimes get together with a friend. Rarer is actually getting around to some spiritual practice.

Lately though, as some of you may have gathered from the tremendous surge of sharing on my blog, my evenings have been crappy too. I’ve lost myself in the ultimate intellectual puzzle, harness race handicapping, and I’ve done it before. I’m not a problem gambler, but I am a problem handicapper… it’s as though when my mind becomes totally absorbed by something that is endlessly challenging, the rest of the world and its challenges hardly exist.

In Fundamentalist language, the devil “gained a foothold” on a weakness of mine, and I’ve been hiding from God. In more objective language, my ego found a way to strengthen itself, causing me to avoid my true self. Different ways of describing the same situation.

For me, a big part of “Jedi life in the real world” is realizing when I’m not living Jedi life in the real world. There’s nothing more spiritual about thinking great thoughts than there is in emptying a litterbox or nourishing your body well in the morning. (For that matter, there’s nothing more spiritual about reading the Upanishads than the Meadowland’s past performances… if you can do it as a Christ, ready to respond to anyone and anything with selfless love.)

The finger pointing at the moon is not the moon.

But some “fingers” at least do point to the moon, while others point to the mazes of habit and distraction. Some fingers are just The Finger! I’ve been drowning. I’m coming up for air. That’s Jedi life in the real world, for me here, at least.

That Bodhisatta Vow

One of the things I appreciate most about my teacher, is that he’s a bodhisattva, not just a buddha. In English, that means that he’s concerned with the salvation of the world. At his enlightenment, he chose to return to this world with all its sorrows and pains, and he wants his students to become enlightened and practice being the light, so they can give light to the world wherever they are, whatever they do.

One night just over six years ago, Jesus came to me, and destroyed my religion. What was left was something I didn’t expect—a fierce desire to follow him, to be like him. I realized he was Bodhisattva, Christ, the teacher who saves the world, and that he himself said he longs for us to follow him in this work, to be one in him, as he is one in the Father (Jn. 17:21-22). St. Paul taught that Christ is a power of God that extends beyond Jesus, that all who sincerely trust him, become “members of his body,” that is, parts of the same being (I Cor. 12:27), and that Jesus is the eldest of many brothers (Rom. 8.29).
So, a few days later, on May 5, 2000, as I sat on a pier I privately made my own bodhisattva vow to God, to work for the salvation of all according to all the grace I am given.

I confess I do not live up to my vow very well. Perhaps it is because it’s so daunting that so few people take it up in this culture. Yet my vow works on me, as I work to fulfill it … And I’m blessed to know a realized bodhisattva who guides me to the light I want to shine.

Last night, Kitabu Roshi urged his students to “become what you admire.” Not to just worship Christ, but to become Christ, become the Buddha, become the teacher.

There’s so much that can be said about this, so much that has been said already. But those who actually come to believe it’s possible are few, and those who resolve to do it, are fewer still. So today, I renew my vow. Theosis is more than just a work of grace. It’s a pledge to be worked on and be available for the world, here and now.

Are some of you also being called to this?

I have returned!

Remember, I never said I was coming back on April 1st! But I am back now. Things became very busy for me, so that vision of free evenings spent in contemplation and so forth didn’t happen… and I think that blogging actually is one of my most important spiritual exercises now. The fact is, I need you guys–I really do.

A few changes to the site: A couple of you caught up with me today about “fatal errors” on my site. That’s fixed now. I’ve switched the blogging engine to WordPress, and although I had a false start, things are running smoothly. This afternoon and evening, you might have seen my home page completely unstyled, which was an observance of CSS Naked Day, a light-hearted and rather nerdy effort by Web coders/designers to promote interest in Web standards and CSS. Probably didn’t do much but to get you to think my “fatal errors” had morphed into “comatose mistakes!” 🙂

Also: Although I couldn’t be happier about the move to WordPress, it’s going to take me a while to modify the templates and style it to suit me. Be patient… (after all, I have to be!)

And lastly: The comments?the 500 comments that you left for me over the last two yearsdidn’t make it. Unfortunately the only script to import Haloscan comments into WP assumes that I’m also importing posts from Blogger, which of course I wasn’t–I’d been using Movable Type. After days of trying to find a way to move the comments into the posts, I’ve given up for the most part. When I have time, I probably will manually import a few “keepers,” but it’s going to be very few if any. I’d love to keep them all, but I’ve been presented with a lesson in non-attachment.

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I shall return…

But not in March. I need a vacation from blogging, so I’m taking it now. I’ll be back in April. Blogging is wonderful, and I’m hooked. The best thing of all is getting to know people, even making close friends, from around the world, sharing insights, confusion, perspectives, laughs…

I had no idea where this would take me when I decided to add a blog to my site two years ago. Almost every day, I visit Singapore, Chicago and California! I travel the world in minutes, soaking up days of inspiration in seconds, from traditions around the world. I’m a spiritual junkie who got impatient with having the Spirit poured onto him, and has been mainlining It with a syringe the size of Norfolk.

It also takes a lot of my time. I can spend a lot of time writing a post, and I always spend a lot of time reading them. And the posts they’re linked to. And the posts they’re linked to…

I’m not the only one. My friend Mark has gone on a temporary blog sabbatical, Trev just came back from one, and Isaiah’s rest is (unfortunately) long-term.

Like them, I need to slow down a bit and digest more. I need to process some stuff privately before I can really incorporate it into my public writing. For example, the experience I wrote about in January is still changing my view of things. I can’t write about it when I don’t know what the heck I feel about it myself. And if you think I’ve probably written a dozens of pages about it in my private journal, think again. I need to, though, and I need to sit and meditate, write more poetry, organize what I’ve written, and just rest and relax a bit more, and interface more with “wetware.”

And on the other hand, I need to learn more PHP and improve my abyssmal programming skills, and stuff like that. I also want to redesign the site and maybe convert the MT blog to WordPress or something else, perhaps.

But I will return. And unlike 2003-2004 when I vanished for months, I’ll be back next month. That’s a promise. When I do, expect the site to look a bit different. And who knows? Maybe those long-awaited reviews of Harry Potter and Star Wars might manifest!

Please don’t think I’m on retreat or quitting electronic communications. You can keep in touch with me by email, and I’m still reading blogs, (though I might ease up on that slightly). Also, I’m still facilitating the WisdomReading group, and you’re still invited to join!

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A paradox

A paradox I’ve noticed is that since I’ve stopped believing in the world, I love it more. It’s like the little shift of last week opened a space and love filled the void.

It’s a slightly different kind of love than I’m used to feeling. There’s nothing forced or effortful at all. It’s not “powerful” or dramatic in any way. It’s not really even felt at all. It’s just there. Maybe this is why the Buddhists use the word compassion more often than love. (I still like the word love better.)

But it’s there, and it’s noticed when I’m quiet.