A Life with Mirrors

It took me forty five minutes to get dressed today. Forty five minutes just to put my clothes on, not including the time I spent completing the rest of my morning ritual.

Not too long ago I could be out the door, teeth brushed, hair done, makeup, the whole process completed in twenty minutes. 

Outfit after outfit, nothing fit the way I wanted it to. Busted zippers, shirts creeping up above the mid line, cursing the mirror, jumping up and down desperately trying to work my ass into my skinny jeans. There's supposed to be a Buddha in that mirror, but where she was this morning, I could not say.

Less than two years ago I landed my dream job and immediately started building an appropriate wardrobe. Unfortunately, it feels like everything I purchased over the last year and a half has shrunk. 

Impermanence.

Twenty-fourteen, so far, seems to be a great year filled with growth, spiritual growth, personal growth, career growth, ass growth. I could do without the last one, but it is what it is.

Something about mirrors. 

They have always been a fixture in my life, although laity the large mirror in our master bathroom has become a source of frustration.

Reflection is always helpful. Most of us have been told at least a time or two to turn our attention inward. But mirrors don't reflect what's really inside. 

I was an awkward child - pale white skin and jet black hair. In elementary school I was often teased, and called names. Children can be so cruel. 

Little me was soft and sweet, but the constant viciousness of my peers eventually rubbed that tenderness away. 

Looking at that girl in the old cassette tapes, boxes spread across the dining room table, I barley recognize her, yet somehow, that was me. Just a baby stuffed into a lacy, red and white dress. . . or a girl grinning from ear to ear, building Lego worlds with the, dark haired, young boy in front of her.

How can that be us, the inner voice whispers.

Puberty really kicked in over the summer between seventh and eighth grade. With my new hormones came many new emotions, along with boobs, makeup, and a new, unimproved, attitude.

What a shame.

When I was younger, because I had a habit of looking deeply into every mirror I passed, my mother would make comments, concerned about my vanity.  I never felt the need to correct her, since her assumption seemed to imply the confidence that I was trying to portray to the world.

I reflect back on that, stick thin, teenager, desperately trying find her own identity.  It can feel impossible when the entire world is demanding you to conform to its tragically modern ways. 

These memories bring me mixed emotions. She was a bitch on the outside, but  deep down she was putting up walls of protection. 

She could stand transfixed in the mirror for hours, applying layers of makeup. Now determined not to be picked on, even if it meant becoming the bully herself. When did this unfortunate transformation happen?

That foolish girl, working so hard to be beautiful on the outside, so distracted. She didn't even notice how ugly her insides had already become. She was loosing herself. 

I feel the urge to hug that girl. I want to tell her it will all be alright and then somehow shake her out of her foolishness. What a nightmare. Thank goodness I woke up.

 

In more recent days, I care much less about what other people think of me, but I still find myself critiquing in the mirror. It's funny. I don't think I care what other people think, but I don't want to just "let it all go" either. 

Where are my tight tummy and well defined biceps hiding? Are they still in there somewhere, or have hours of time at the gym been wasted? At this moment I am leaning closer to my second answer. 

I'll really be kissing that "yoga butt" goodbye if I don't change something soon. 

Aging is inevitable. Impermanence is a very central Buddhist teaching. I guess I need to spend more time reflecting on this, but still I am not ready to give up my fitness. 

This body is the only on I have, and we're going to be together till the end, and who knows when that will be. Me and my body might as well be good friends and if I get to choose or have any influence, I'd rather it not be falling apart in old age. 

Who we really are cannot be found in the mirror. I know that now. It is all superficial and the mirror is just a tool, although on some days it might be a tool that we could be happier without. 

In the mean time, since we are not going renovate the master bathroom in our new home anytime soon,  the new me and I are going to work on getting better acquainted.

With a little humor, and a fair amount self compassion, I think everything is going to be just fine. I'm not quite thirty yet, and if I'm lucky, I've still got a long way to go. 

Here's to getting older, and to all the Dharma gates that aging can inevitably bring our way.

The Buddhist Who Wore Makeup

Cover the left side to see without makeup.

The Buddhist Who Wore Makeup 

I've always loved putting on my makeup. 

I don't think that will ever change.

In my early teens putting on makeup 

would "make me beautiful"

I've perfected my art over the years.

I can now transform my face in many ways.

Though the way I view makeup has changed.

I am at peace with the woman behind the mask.

I feel beautiful and strong without it, 

but I will always love picking up the brush.

and painting colors onto my face.

Every morning I look forward to the blank canvas.

A new opportunity to start my day out creatively. 

While I am making my art,

I am in this moment,

joyful and relaxed.
This is my awareness.

Anatta - The River

Anatta - refers to the notion of "not-self" or the illusion of "self" sometimes refereed to as ego. 


I am a river, not the person I was yesterday. Always changing. The water is different, quickly flowing downstream. Strong currents moving pebbles and debris downstream as well. The banks of me are changing, though at a slower pace. There is not one part of me that is fixed. Even the large rock and boulders, that the rest is stacked upon, will weather down and one day drift away.

Nothing within is fixed, so there cannot be a "me" or "I".




Photo By David Rivera - Revolution Photos TX

Fragile

It hardly seemed real. Seeing the full name of someone who had once been very close to me displayed next to the word obituary on the computer screen. Certainly I must be confused.

It's common for people to see faces in inanimate objects where none actually exists. We are automatically programmed to seek out familiarities in situations that or foreign to us. Surely, I must be mistaken.

Thinking back. Did I ever really hear that middle name? The age? It could be a coincidence. Jumping to conclusions. My mind playing tricks on me.

Fingers, frantically strumming, desperately seeking to disprove answers that my hart already had. In dental, trying to lift the rock that had become lodged, heavy in my stomach.

Why? There it was. The confirmation on my screen. Undeniable proof of the horrid injustice.

He was not even thirty years old, and always a wonderful, caring person. A bright light in the world. Why?

Such things hardly seem fair, but then again they aren't. This world is not a fair place, and life is fragile. Death lurks around every corner as we often take this life for granted.

I don't want to look at this truth in front of me, but it is almost impossible to look away. This is real, and pretending otherwise is not helpful.

I still remember the day, the beginning of the end was it 6. . . 7 years ago? A scary situation, though at the time nobody had yet realize the chain of events that had suddenly been put into motion. 

Thanksgiving day at my grandparents house. My phone rings. I cannot recall the conversation, but I remember being called to the hospital.

There had been a car accident. Someone had speed carelessly through a red light. The domino effect, that would take a while to be come apparent. 

Sitting in the ER waiting room. I still remember his calm and cool posture. Slouched back in the plastic waiting room seat, green Converse shoe popping out of the white and blue hospital gown over a crossed knee.  "Look, I got blood on my favorite shoes!" He said it with a huge smile. 

He always had a way of lighting the mood with his infectious smile.  Why should this moment be any different. 

Months down the road, I remember him describing strange events where he would loose time. These instances would often occur during his morning showers. He would "wake up" or "snap out of it" and the water in the shower would have run cold. 

We decided these must have been big gaps, since our thirty gallon water heater was sufficient for a fairly long shower.

Seizures. Eventually these events were named. The accident had caused much more damage than was originally discovered. Lasting damage, permanent, and eventually the end.

Last one to know, the news now over a year old, but still a shock to me. Processing the information and letting it sink in.

This bright light, prematurely extinguished. Drawing the lesson that life is fragile. Further proof that we can never guarantee tomorrow. A valuable lesson, from an unfortunate tragedy.

In the Moment

Staying in the moment. My mind is like a wild and unruly animal, bucking, twisting, and pulling at the reigns. Wandering between past and future, like a horse pulling first to the right, and then heading straight - only for a moment - before veering back off to the left. I steer my thoughts, struggling against the beast, begging it to bend to my will. 

I find myself to be counting each long, slow, breath, demanding my focus to shift to this present action, and forbidding everything but the most basic of thoughts from entering my mind. 

For a moment all is calm. My thoughts propel forward, like a laser beam, sharp, and focused. The animal is at rest. Profound clarity penetrates my being, vibrating, echoing, within me. I cling to this place, where there is only now. Dwelling in an existence that has no past, and cares not for the future.

I am driving, speeding, down the road, aware of each and every action. There, in the empty space, something resonates. There is nothing leading up to this moment, and there is nothing to follow. Only now. . . 

A delightful, new world. This is a place I could live, but I am unprepared, and ill equipped to stay. I make the most of my visit, enjoying the fresh view.

Hours pass. Eventually, I realize that I have returned. Yes,back in the world of past imprints and future concerns. The other place has, somehow, become a fond memory. Despite my efforts, I am unsure of the moment that my return actually occurred.

Here, again, is the beast. A kitten, curled up in the corner, wiser. Knowing of this place.  Tail twitching in all directions, but slowly, and with intention. Lying in wait and ready for the hidden passageways of the mind to once again open up.

The doorway. The Escape. 

Adopting a New Way of Life Through the Four Noble Truths

Traditional texts say that Siddhartha reached enlightenment in a mere six years at the age of thirty five. With the intent o freeing humanity from suffering, the Buddha or enlightened one, spent the rest of his life spreading the knowledge that he had gained.

The Buddha gave instructions in his teachings, often called the Middle Way or the Dhamma, for ending our worldly suffering. Two core teachings that were  given early in Buddhist history are the Four Noble Truths and the Noble Eightfold Path

Once I had made a conscious decision to incorporate Buddhist teachings in my day to day life - though I feel as if I would have been brought to this path some day no matter what - I started with these building blocks, these most basic teachings.

The Four Noble - Truths

1. The truth of suffering (dukkha)
2. The truth of the cause of suffering (samudaya)
3. The truth of the end of suffering (nirhodha)
4. The truth of the path that frees us from suffering (magga)

At a glance, this fist teaching can seem dark. "Suffering, suffering, and more suffering." I feel like there is a lot that the English language is not doing justice to in this very basic translation.

The First Truth - Suffering

Life has suffering. Every human being goes through suffering - Sickness, getting old, death, fear, frustration, sorrow, loneliness, and anger.  This cannot be argued.

The Second Truth- Cause of Suffering

Suffering is caused by things we can control - ego, expectations, cravings. If we can change the things that we want - desire - so that we no longer desire so much than we can escape the cause of suffering.

The Third Truth - End Of Suffering

Finally some good news. Are you ready for it? Suffering can be overcome and we all have the ability to reach true happiness. Give up useless cravings and live life one day at a time. Do not live in the past, or worry over a preconceived imaginary future.

The Fourth Truth - The Path

The Eightfold Path, which I mentioned earlier, is the path that has the ability to free us from suffering.

Please "stay tuned" for my next entry on the Eightfold Path.

Journey into Buddhism

Turning to Buddhism, for me, has been a very natural transition. As facts started to present themselves to me, through research and digging, I have begun to feel at home. The teachings correspond with beliefs that have been deep within me in my earliest stages of life.

Embarking down on this path has been  natural to me, as if I am called into it, or born into it. Finding my way home, and becoming aware of my true self. 

Studying the Buddha's teachings has lead me to truly examined myself, on a very deep personal level. In the cultivation of this knowledge I have proceeded in traveling down the path in the direction of an awakening.

This is not at all to say that I have been "fully awakened" but rather my eyes are in the process of being opened. Realizations have arisen in me, and I am aware that, that for along time, I was a in incomplete human being - shallow and distracted by illusions.

I never thought that I would ever become a "religious" person, even though I grew up attending regular church services. I was never able to think theistically. As a young person, I tried for years to get behind the all knowing, and punishing being that commanded obedience, for fear of the eternal  damnation that was reserved for the nonbelievers.

Even at a young age, I remember questioning the things that we were told in church, and feeling as if there was something wrong with me due to my inability to blindly follow what could not be proven to my young mind.
Eventually, in my teenage years, finding the act tiresome, I gave up the façade, much to my mothers dismay. My lack of religion and openness about the, unjustified, bitterness that I had for the Christian church put an immense strain on my relationship with my mother, who expected me to continue attending regular services.

I was stupid, and prideful. A teenage rebelling, but my dislike for church was not just something I used to irritate my mother. Deep down, everything about church made me uncomfortable.


Mind you that this is, in no way, a reflection of my current feelings about the church or Christianity. Through my own journey, into Buddhist teachings, I have learned a great respect, and even a fondness for true followers of Christ.

These teachings are still not for me, but they do not have to be. There are many paths to salvation, and I do not believe that any one path is better than any other. We are blessed with a planet filled with many cultures and religions, and each person's own religion is their own salvation.

Any religion that teaches the values of honesty, love, compassion, and  kindness is a benefit to the world and its people.The Dali Lama, when asked about his own religion, does not claim to be a Buddhist. Instead he has been quoted as saying, "my religion is kindness."

This journey is endless, as I am always growing, and learning. Following the path, picking up lessons, like stones, along the way.

Once filed with a deep darkness, and hatred, I am now transcending my old ways. That void - an enormous, dark, hole - is now gone, and I have filled it with the one and only thing that could ever be big enough to fill such a space - love.