Being In the Body

At the right speech retreat, we talked a lot about the importance of "being in the body." By this, I believe, we mean to be aware of our physical presence - how we're feeling. It came up because when we're dealing with a conflict, it's good to be aware of how we're physically responding to the person so that we can be mindful of our actions. For example, if I find that my muscles tighten when I'm talking to someone, I can think about how I am feeling tense and try not to let my tension drive my part in the conversation.

Overall, however, being in the body contributes more broadly to living mindfully, and I've been working on being aware of my physical responses to my world.

Tonight, my son came down with a high fever . . . and quickly at that. I felt panicky. I know I can't get hysterical when my kids are sick, partly because I know I'm most likely overreacting and partly because I know it can only make the situation worse. So I tried to think about my physical reaction to the situation. My chest muscles were tight, I had butterflies in my stomach, and (something I have recently noticed happening) my arms were tingling. (The arm tingling I have noticed a lot lately. I've never really been aware of it before; I'm guessing this is the result of me now becoming more mindful, not because the tingling is new.)

I reminded myself of the concept of clinging, that I was clinging to my son's health. Part of me thought I need to let go. Sickness is part of life. Stop clinging to his health. And the other part of me thought Screw that! My son is sick! My son is sick! When you're imagining the worst case scenario - (Dare I say it?) that your child may die - being mindful seems a little . . . pointless. Nevertheless, I tried to stay mindful, tried to stay calm at least on the exterior.

My son's fever dropped to 100.3 after Tylenol and a cold bath. Now he's in bed, and I have all night to worry. It will be a good exercise in being mindful, present, and in the body. And a good exercise in realizing that the world doesn't end just because my lil' guy has a fever.

On another note: Thanks to Tori for acknowledging that she has read my blog. (Hello, Tori!)

***PING***

I write these blogs, mostly for myself, I know. But sometimes I wonder if anyone is out there.

Ashland, OR

We went on our annual trip to Ashland as chaperones for the theater group at our school. Because we take the kids (our progeny, not our students), Jason and I have to take turns seeing plays. This year, I saw two, he saw one. Short reviews are below. If you get to Ashland this summer, we recommend all three shows. This is the first summer in ten years of Ashland trips that I would say this.


Fences by August Wilson - This is a story of a black man living in Chicago in, I think, the '60s. He is angry at the world and sort of creates his own hell. There was a line by August Wilson in the playbill that said something like The streets he walked in were an ocean of his own making, and he was drowning. Most of my stories are about this man. That's a paraphrase, btw. It perfectly sums up the main character of this play - he feels compelled to believe the world is set against him, that he hasn't been given a fair shake, and cannot enjoy the wonderful family he has. The script is amazing. The story touching. The set incredible. I am a sucker for an amazing, detailed set, and this one definitely fit that bill. Overall, I thought the acting was good. A couple actors weren't as strong as the others. The wife tripped on her lines a couple times - not a big deal really; she was very strong outside of that. The actress who plays the younger daughter wasn't that strong. The lead, who was a regular on Night Court, was phenomenal. He was believable as this character in every way - physically, emotionally, in demeanor.

Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream - Jason saw this; I didn't. His overall impression: the play was fanstastic. The costumes, the acting, the interpretations. The fairies, for example, were gay men dressed in fishnet muscle shirts. An over-the-top, but still appropriate to the script performance.

Altar Boyz - I saw this. It was playing in the cabaret theater, not the main theater in town. It's an hilarious comedy about a Christian boy band and makes fun of the boy band mentality. Fun, nothing that will change your world. Sometimes the singing was a little off key, or so say the music peeps at my table, but it wasn't so obvious to me. The kids laughed uproariously at this show.

Unfortunately, I gave away my playbills to a student, so I don't have names to share. In short, if you love theater, Ashland will be a good summer trip this year.

Not Such a Baby Anymore

DD turned 5 this week. Definitely made me stop and reflect on how quickly they grow up. She'll be in kindergarten next year. DS is a year and a half and has officially reached toddlerdom, moved out of babyhood. They won't be babies for ever, I guess.


I thought this was a funny pic of DS. He dropped his pacifier into the sand and apparently didn't care for the texture. This summer, we'll be breaking the paci habit.

On a side note, this pic was a bugger to fix the coloring on. He was under a tree, and a green shade was vaguely present. The normal Adobe fixes weren't working, so I had to go into more advanced settings.

As an aside to my aside, DH bought me a new camera for Mother's Day. Finally got it connected to the computer today and have been playing nonstop since.

Dental Rules (Rant Warning)

I propose a set of my own Dental Patient Rights:

• Patients should never, EVER be allowed to leave the exam room with blood on their faces. It's bad enough that you have to leave the exam room tired, numb, drooling, sore, and swollen, but then in your car you realize that you have been talking to the receptionist and walking past other patients all the while with blood splattered on your face. That just isn't dignified.
• If we're going to be in the dental chair for 4 1/2 hours, let us know early on so that when hour three roles around, we don't think something must be terribly wrong.
• Anything that can be discussed before dental work begins, should be discussed before dental work begins. It's so much fun talking to the billing receptionist when you're drooling (and have blood splattered on your face).
• Finish our dental work before the Novocaine dissipates. This is vital.
• Change the smell of your office. Just a whiff of that dental office smell sends me into a neurotic anxiety attack. Make it smell like chocolate. I'll either come to the dentist's more often or lose weight (since it may make me run at the scent of chocolate). Either way I'm better off.
• Stop charging us over $1000 for something so small it could fit into an elf's pocket.
• Give me Valium. (Okay, I don't really need this, but the idea is dreamy.)
• Better yet, give me anaesthesia.

A new kind of clutter

I suscribe to three listservs: The freecycle listserv for my town, one for AP English teachers, and another for Ottobre sewing patterns. Right now I have the following unread messages in each folder:

• Freecycle: 130
• AP: 119
• Ottobre: 804 (!!!)

My question to myself: WHY? Why do I subscribe to listservs when I rarely have the time to read the messages, let alone participate in discussions? For all three listservs, any discussion I am interested in has run its course by the time I read that thread. Any item on freecycle I may be interested in is gone, although I mostly use that one for getting rid of things than for getting things.

I am trying to simplify my life, and listservs provide a new, different type of clutter. I have to schedule time to just delete emails, like I have to schedule time to dust (okay, that doesn't happen often), sort through piles of paper on my desk at work, or cull through the closet for clothes that need new homes.

The Internet has revolutionized communication, and in the process has added a lot of things to my to-do list.

Maybe I ought to just let go and unsubscribe.

Meditation

At last week's retreat, the instructor, Donald Rothberg, gave instructions to the newbies on walking meditation. He suggested that we should split our meditations up 50/50 - half sitting and half walking. I really like the walking meditation - somehow I am able to focus better on my foot than my breath. And since I mostly meditate in the evening (when I'm tired), it's helpful because it keeps me from falling asleep. Now the trick for me is to not fall back too much on walking meditation and to still doing sitting meditations.

I think I'm ready for some meditation supplies. I've been meditating for almost a year now and have resisted buying anything for it. But now I feel it's time to try a zafu, the meditation cushion, (or maybe a bench) and maybe even a Buddha statue. Somehow it didn't seem right to run out and buy things for this practice. Now it seems appropriate.

I don't HEART Albuterol

Take an overactive 5 year-old who resists sleep. Make her sick and therefore a little . . . (how to say this with wise speech?) temperamental. Then give her a drug that makes her more hyper (and even more resistant to sleep) as well as agitated. Add to it a sick toddler and a sick mommy. What do you get? Exhaustion.

One-Day-a-Week Ordination

So I'm still reading the essay collection called Hooked. This one essayist, Ajahn Amaro, in his essay "Three Robes is Enough" explains one of the Buddha's teachings for lay practioners who want to "deepen their practice." We have the five precepts for lay practioners, but this idea of one-day-a-week ordination suggests that every "lunar quarter," we accept the precepts given to monks. Amaro lists them as follows:

1. Do not kill
2. Do not take was is not freely given
3. Abstain from sexual activity
4. "Abandon false speech"
5. Abstain from intoxicants
6. Eat once a day and not at night
7. Abstain from music and shows, as well as from wearing "adornments"
8. Sleep in a low, not soft bed

I kind of like this idea. It intrigues me. I'm not exactly sure what is meant by "Lunar quarter." Weekly maybe? I'm not sure I want to take this on weekly as this point, but once a month would be a good start.

On another note, I got a new camera for Mother's Day, which is a relief. I have been taking pictures, but haven't loaded the software onto my computer, so I haven't been able to upload pics yet. Hopefully this weekend I'll get that settled.

Wise Speech

I went to my first Buddhist retreat this weekend. It was a day-long retreat on the beautiful grounds of the Washoe Pines ranch in Washoe Valley, NV. Donald Rothberg taught about Right Speech. The content wasn't really new to me, but Donald did a wonderful job of structuring activities for reflection and practice. (If you ever get the chance to go to a retreat taught by Donald, I suggest you take it. He is interesting and inspiring, and he uses proven teaching strategies.)

We were reminded of the 4 qualities of wise speech:

1. Truthful
2. Helpful
3. Kind
4. Well intended (including right timing and appropriateness)

For those who are not familiar with this teaching: The idea is that everything you say (or write) should meet all four criteria. If something is kind and helpful, but not an honest observation, it should not be communicated. If something is honest, but won't help the person, it should not be said. If it's truthful, helpful and kind, but it's not the appropriate time, one should wait. If it's truthful, helpful and timely, but your tone is harsh (and therefore not kind), it's not wise speech.

I could work on all four of these, but I mostly struggle with the timing issue and the helpful issue. With inner reflection, I can know that something is true and kind, but the helpful and the timing can sometimes be a little bit of a crap shoot. I've learned this with students. There have been times when I have been pretty insistent that a student understand my expectations, only to later find out the student had just recently lost a parent. I think I need to explore this issue further.

The sangha continued the discussion Monday night. We agreed to assign ourselves a homework assignment. I decided to try the spend-a-week-not-talking-about-someone-not-in-the-room homework assignment. This applies to even saying good things. It's a practice in being aware of how much we talk about others. This has been very difficult for me. I knew I would have to give myself some exceptions as department head, as much of my job is representing admin to the department and vice versa, but it has been almost overwhelming how many times I have been challenged with this. For example, I was on the hiring committee for the new principal. Someone asked me if I thought our choice would make a good principal. If I hadn't said anything, it would have "said" a lot that I didn't want said. I am happy with our new principal, and I felt it important as department head that I share that with this person.

Another challenge is trying to break the gossiping/whining/complaining pattern that I have with some people. I don't want to embarrass them by making a statement about not wanting to engage in a conversation they started, since I helped establish that pattern of communication. With my closest friends it's easy because I can tell them what I'm doing, but with the lunch room crew, with my peers at work, it's more of a challenge. I have kept quiet and even left the room. And I have jumped in a couple of times. I'm wondering if there is a way to say, "I am working on not talking about people who are not present," or if redirecting conversation is the better approach.

Well, it's time to put the kidlings to bed. I guess this blog is becoming more about Buddhism than anything else.

DD is sick with an asthma attack. DS has a runny nose and a cough. Cannot cling to their health.

Clinging

So I found myself clinging today. I broke my camera, spilled coffee on it yesterday. On the advice of a friend and a student - both more technologically savvy than yours truly, I let the camera sit over night to see if drying would help. Much to my dismay, my camera is still not working.

I was very sad. I love to take pictures of my students as they come out of their senior project panels. And I LOVE to take ridiculous amounts of pictures of my two babies. Once I realized my camera wasn't working, I noticed the tell-tale signs of clinging: desperately wanting a fix, teary eyes, knotty tummy. I reminded myself of the clinging and the importance of letting go.

But I think I was clinging more to the hope that my DH wouldn't have to hear me tell him for the second time in two years that I had ruined a camera by spilling a liquid on it. I am clinging more to my desire to not have an irritated husband than anything else. Guess I'll just have to trust that he'll still love me.

Now the question remains: do I buy myself another camera or do I go without and miss the beautiful pictures of my children, my friends, my family and my students? It's so easy to justify possession in the name of something more grand. Loosening the grip on the things we believe we deserve in life is not so easy.

Hmm.......