Another Auld Lang Syne

Well, I wish I had something pithy to say about the end of the year. But honestly, this is just another day, you know? An arbitrary line we’ve drawn on the calendar. First it’s Monday, then it’s Tuesday. And oh yeah, it’s 2008.

I did come up with some resolutions. They’re actually things I already try to do, so they won’t be all that surprising.

1. Use computer/web productively
2. Gym 3x week
3. Meditate daily, Zendo weekly
4. Be more social (go on a date!)
5. No red meat - chicken/fish once a day at most
6. Be nicer to myself when I fail

Those seem like good goals, right? And of course I won’t achieve them all perfectly, let’s acknowledge that right at the outset.

I had a terrific weekend, particularly yesterday. I cleaned my house in the morning and then walked for several hours in the afternoon. I took about 80 photos. I just can’t get enough of wandering this city!

(Photo: Lower East Side, Dec. 2007)

Briars

I actually wrote a post yesterday. It was somewhat political, a brief screed against the current anti-immigrant climate in this country, and a suggestion that we need to be more generous in our support of others in the world. But you don’t see it here because it felt half-baked to me. I took it down after about ten minutes.

It was the imprecision that bothered me, a sense that I was inviting controversy yet not quite saying what I wanted to say. Then, later in the day, as if by magic, I stumbled across this passage in Gary Thorpe’s book “Caught in Fading Light: Mountain Lions, Zen Masters, and Wild Nature”:

Many Zen teachers have cautioned their students against any dependence on words, either written or spoken. They have likened words to thorns and briars, and compared having an idle conversation to taking a walk through wild thistles and entangling vines. At the very least, we are told, we should give careful attention to what we say. This should be true at all times, but particularly so when we purport to speak the dharma, the real truth of things. When we speak to others with the intention of relaying or explaining Buddhist truths, we soon learn just how may traps and snares there are, and we learn the clever ways in which they can lie in wait, ready to spring upon us at the first sign of unsteadiness or hesitation. That we can be ambushed by our own words is one of the great lessons of Buddhism, and it is a lesson we learn constantly.

(Photo: Shadows on an old synagogue, Lower East Side, Dec. 2007)

Lower East Side, Dec. 2007

Resolve

This week between Christmas and New Year’s is so odd. If you’re spending the week at work, as I am, it’s even a bit melancholy. The halls are empty, the phone seldom rings, the work days are slow, the salad bar at the company cafeteria is shuttered. There's been the big build-up to the holidays and now, BAM -- nothing.

Perhaps it also feels a bit melancholy to me because I have no plans for New Year’s Eve. I could crash a party somewhere, but I don’t have any desire to get toasted -- those days are mostly over for me, happily.

I haven’t even made any resolutions, which I normally like to do. People make fun of resolutions because they often fall by the wayside, but I think they’re a useful reminder of our goals and values. I try to use them as guidelines rather than strict rules, and to be gentle with myself when I backslide. I usually resolve to sit more, to be nicer to people, to slow down, to be more attentive.

Maybe this year I’ll resolve to get a boyfriend! (It's that easy, right?)

(Photo: SoHo graffiti, Dec. 2007)

Ribit

Back home again, with a heap of laundry, and an attention-starved cat once again lying on my chest. I had a great visit with the family, especially my amazing little niece Jane (aka Little Jane, Janie or Beans), who’s 16 months old. She toddles around and says words, and you can just watch her figuring things out.

She’ll say “ribit” if you ask her what sound a frog makes, and she points at both the dog and the door and loudly proclaims “daw!” She smiles constantly, except when she just wakes up, when there seems to be a mandatory period of crankiness.

She didn’t quite know what to make of Christmas. But what kid doesn’t like all the colored lights?

Christmas went well, despite all my gift angst. I got some very practical stuff, like towels and a supply of Starbucks coffee, and some chocolate for fun. I think I’m going to leave the chocolate in the fridge for a while, though. It’s possible to just eat too much sugar, especially when you’re not really much of a dessert-eater - and after several days of pie and chocolate chip cookies and other stuff, I need to come down from my sugar high!

(Photo: Street art in SoHo, Dec. 2007)

Patience, Grasshopper

Well, here I am in Florida, spending Christmas with the family. So far, my trip has been an exercise in practicing patience.

I flew down last night, and my plane's departure was greatly delayed at LaGuardia. We were about two hours late by the time it took off. I didn't really mind, though - I had several magazines to keep me busy and I was kind of amused just hanging out in the terminal. (I think some of Sharon Salzberg's mindful energy was still lingering around me!)

Today I'm sitting at my Mom's computer to write this post. Mom has not yet entered the 21st century and still has a dial-up Internet connection. I can't tell you how painfully slow it is to do ANYTHING. Patience, once again.

I can't seem to access my e-mail at all. But maybe that's a good thing. I'm on a holiday break, after all!

So I probably won't post much for the next few days. Have a great Christmas, all who celebrate it, and I'll post again when I'm back in the Big Furious Apple!

(Photo: Newspaper box in Boca Grande, Fla., March 2007)

Pluto

Last night I went to see Sharon Salzberg speak at the Zendo. She’s a well-known longtime Buddhist practitioner who’s written many books, and she’s an eloquent, composed speaker - it was so interesting to hear her put thoughts together and concisely summarize questions from the audience.

She spoke about equanimity, or balance, and one of the things she said that stuck with me is, “The ability to start again is not to be sneezed at.” Each time we stray in life or practice, whether it’s getting lost in thoughts while meditating or something larger, we can always start again. We find our breath again. In fact, as Salzberg said, starting anew is the only honest response to the ever-changing world.

My practice seems to resemble the orbit of Pluto. You know how Pluto follows an elliptical orbit around the sun, passing relatively close and then spinning out into the deep reaches of space before circling back? Sometimes I feel close to my practice, seem to inhabit it deeply for weeks at a time. And sometimes it feels almost alien to me - I stop sitting and get busy and caught up in life - and then I miss it and begin circling back.

Since the end of October, just before I went to Italy, my practice has seemed remote. I’ve been to the Zendo several times since then, but it’s been hard for me to really inhabit the sitting, to be really present. Traveling, the holidays, some major changes in my office, a busier social schedule - all have given me reason to feel scattered, and have carried me away.

I’m not going to the year-end sesshin, either. Frankly, I’m tired, and it just seems too far away, too difficult and too expensive. Maybe I’m wimping out, but I plan to chill and retreat into my own personal quiet for a while. I hope to do that after Christmas - sit daily, here at home, and once again come back toward the warmth of the sun from starry black space.

(Photo: Lost mitten, SoHo, Dec. 2007)