Transcendent Generosity

 

To restrict generosity to what your coffers can or cannot offer, is to miss Buddha's intent, by measuring oneself against the many noble philanthropists who have given from their coffers.

That is one kind of expression of generosity.  There are others.  And each manner of generosity is but a manner - the actual practice of any or another will increase the capacity for practicing generosity - according to that manner.

Karuna:  compassion, lovingkindness, a sovereign love - these both are, and give more possibility for, more generosity.  "I'm doing" or "I'm not" or "I can't" - are all assertions of ego.

There is generosity of time, or of thought or feeling, of visualisation, of word, of action - in breadth and in depth.  This is to be meditated on.  This is what is meant.  This generosity is conscious and intelligent, genuinely free of idiot-naive generosity, free of shoulds or musts, free of  trendy "tolerance"-peddling, or of any cult of political correctness.  Real generosity is sovereign in nature, an authentic expression of one's basic sanity, of Heart-Mind.

It is found and cultivated in stillness - not the deadening of thought but its enlivening through the discipline of first studying one's own mind.  There is no judgement here, just objective observation and reflection.  Concerning generosity with material wealth, however vast and impressive or comparatively humble: motives objectively considered reveal the inherent nature behind it.  It's not that generosity is in itself "wrong" - the reference point directing it may however be decidedly conscious or unconscious.  Some acts of generosity are driven by notions of compensation, or of guilt, or of control and domination, or of recognition and reputation, or tax benefits, or of a duty.  It can generate a good feeling or feeling of goodness, of being good, doing good.  It can also generate joy, enhance lovingkindness.

To differentiate and exercise discriminating wisdom, generosity is for meditation, in this one studies one's mind and what is moving it.  Real altruism is All-True or it is nothing.

Generosity toward strangers without or at the expense of one's person, or of one's family - or in the case of a head of State: at the disastrous cost of one's people and nation - is the neurotic and irresponsible experiment of a manipulative ego with issues.

Helper-Syndrome has nothing to do with generosity, yet always uses this as a cover for this destructive behavior.  There is no self-image in real generosity, there are no deals.  So if you build a huge clinic which becomes an institution of standing, you build it.  If you give your last dollar to someone in need, you give it.  There is already a law of reciprocation, you needn't look for any.  One needn't stack "points" - generosity comes from an inner wealth, not an inner poverty.

In meditating on this one expands toward oneself, toward those near, and those loved.  This cultivates the feeling and is authentic of itself.  The expansion builds outwardly toward community, toward one's own environment of sentient Beings, toward the world as one applies visualisation. It builds inwardly toward one's own past, present, future - without harboring wishes or desires in the conventional sense, just steadily cultivating lovingkindness.  It is not to deny or dismiss or belittle emotions - anger, fear, panic, concerns, preferences - it just transcends all of these.

It is not practiced according to rules or ideologies, it is the free expression and demonstration of following one's true nature.  The most generous thing one can do is to embrace and practice this, and transmit it by example to those hungering for a taste of benevolent reality.

 

Discriminating Wisdom

There’s a sword in the hand of the Buddha,

The sword of Manjushri discriminates

Between Compassion and idiot-compassion.

There in the Land of Mahamudra

Where discriminating wisdom doesn’t hesitate

But cuts decisively conscious, free of passion.

Appeasement of ego and aggression holds no sway,

The responsibility of right action demands discrimination –

A foul word and pariah to Gutmensch and mainstream.

"We don’t want to discriminate!" one’s trained to say,

The conflict-avoiding love-and-lighters eschew any tension;

To discriminate between facts and taqiyya arouses their screams

To "shut up and fly straight" into the Abyss –

Never against the stream, the intolerance in their "tolerance,"

Multi-culti proving in the end but a gray mono-culti.

To differentiate between truth and fantasy, or peace and cowardice

Is the way of satyagraha – you take the chance

Of failing to communicate the wisdom in urgency

Of awakened action – not opinion or theory but seeing clearly –

The sword Christ said “I bring” is to cut through this sleep:

For the cult of compulsive conformity ushers in "The-Religion-Of-Peace."

The death of our cultural tapestry in the form of homogenized "diversity"

Heralding an end to think and to question – just keep

In mind while you still have one, the comfort of ignorance comes with a price.

Breath of Buddha, Breath of Christ

As Christmas Approaches: The Breaths

Friends, readers, browsers: this is to be put to use and it's free. This is nothing new, I put it to practice but am not its originator. This is as old as Buddha and as fresh as your own very next breath, it is for all regardless of what you call your faith, your religion, your ecclectic sortof-sortof, or most valuably: your highest most intimately cherished reality.

And as Christmas approaches I decided this year to put this out there, as it has been received, and in my own manner of presentation – if being Christian (whatever denomination or however you define that) you take this and own it, make it yours – not by reading and thinking about it or having an opinion about it but only by giving it your devoted concentration and following the simple few steps, you will be really fulfilling both the Sermon on the Mount and the Prayer of St. Francis: by letting yourself be made an instrument of service in the most Christian real sense there is. Now do it and I'll shut up:

Sit up straight, whether on a chair (feet flat) or on a mat or rug, however you best do that, back straight but relaxed, neck also. All breathing is through the nose. What you do with your hands is of little matter, mudra or no mudra or hands held or free – just concentrate. Take a few shallow breaths, a few deep ones, some strong then gentle, adjust – consciously adjust your breathing to be long and deep, into the belly and back out, let your focus settle in your chest, just central there, your Heart. Just breathe. You can direct your thoughts better with any of the following, they are only three suggestions of many: Inhale “Toward the One” and exhale “United with All” (meaning all the illuminated souls who are actually leading you in this as we speak) – or, inhale “Christ in me” and exhale “United with All” – or if you're Jewish doing this you can inhale “Ha-Shem Echad,” and exhale “Baruch-Ha-Shem” – whatever works for you.

Now: you have adjusted your breathing and it's long and deep, you should focus your most devoted thought on Whom or on That which you most love – and yes, you are “worthy” of doing this – let the feeling in the center of your chest open to that and receive that. Let into you the presence of your greatest Trust, your greatest Love, let yourself imbibe that, be sourrounded by that, just as the conducting wire (you) inside a glass bulb is surrounded by a generated current and light is produced going outward. Just breathe this way. Let it fill you, in and around you. As this is a Christmas Concentration I'll address it accordingly. Let Jesus abide here, or as it says in Scripture, put on the Mind of Christ, you can even mentally intone Jesus Jesus if it helps – now we can begin.

Refining that breathing, refining like a bare thread coming and going, breathe into yourself all the Love you can draw in from the Universe, from the Cosmos, from the space around you, from so many dimensions, and from the here-now, and in reality. And breathe it out, out, out. Let it be with you, let it be in the room, let it abide, in and out. Whatever else is there with you, family or cares or worries or joys – let all this be of no disturbance, for you are sovereign, let this all be baptized in your breath, as you breathe in and then breathe out all the Love you can muster.

You are a sun, can you visualize that magnificent star up close? That is you, burning, producing such heat and such light – do you not feel your gut loosening and expanding even as you breathe in and out of your Heart (like I told you)? You may be an idiot all day long the rest of the week but right here and right now, you are Being Divine: Who loves ya? Who's with ya? Who'dja invite over to breathe with ya? Spirit is here and real – God's own breath is inside your breath.

Having let all the Love into you and, going out from you, circulate and expand, now continue on by refining still finer and drawing likewise into yourself all the Joy you can bring in, and circulate that through and on out, just as you've been doing. Feel it? It is yours, it is you – yeah, you're worthy of it, you're worthy of it – it's not about you anyway, and yet it is entirely you giving yourself to its Doing – there's nothing theoretical here. Either you're with it or you're not.

Let this continue for a few breaths, then refine, refine, draw in finer still, all the Peace you can let in to your limitless capacity – you sun of God you! – you are the very space itself, embodied as you, just breathing! Don't blow it by thinking – you're there, now stay there! As this Peace which passeth understanding is real with you, going out from you, see how all this Love, all this Joy, all this Peace is contained as one breath of Compassion which you allow to expand out with every outgoing breath – it's as though you're no longer even there doing it, just it is there doing you.

Head and Heart are not apart – you direct this toward yourself and toward everything and everyone in the room, and on out through that window into your neighborhood, hovering just long enough to feel it take, and radiating and broadcasting out to the area, the district, the city, the country, the world, the earth, people you know and don't know, people you love and those you don't even like (no ifs ands or buts), people you've hurt or who've done you wrong, Nature: the forests, mountains, the waters of the Earth, the animals and critters, let it go out to wherever it is needed, whether to disaster areas, war zones, slums or crime-concentrated areas – or just to any nameless faceless individuals out there who may desperately need the witnessing touch of your Love and your Joy and your Peace, your Lovingkindness, your Compassion, breathing onto them and into them. Now.

Not my words should dictate how far out this goes or how far in – what you feel, feel it, go with it, trust, trust, trust.

And what now? Just breathe and breathe and be with it – feel feel feel: you are All-One but not alone.

(Just to give yourself a kick in the seat to get going on it, here are two unmistakably suitable reads:)

http://samuelinayatchisti.blogspot.de/2012/01/candle-for-farthing.html

http://samuelinayatchisti.blogspot.de/2011/12/suit-or-truth-about-santa.html

Practicing in Farmington NM

It was a blind alley. Between the theatre and a few shops here and a few shops there in the San Juan Plaza ran an alley, with another blind one turning off at 90° behind the cinema. In Farmington you didn't walk around at night, so I was told - you ran the risk of being harrassed, or mugged, or raped, or whatever, or so one heard. Well, if anyone ever stepped out of their safe pickup trucks to even ventrure out alone, in their swaggering cowboy boots and beer-stained Stetsons, I'd have been surprised, and for my part walked the town's streets carefree and regularly regardless of the hour.

My humble abode was a far enough walk from my two jobs to encourage my use of this particularly blind alley for my morning or late evening prostrations and sitting practice. It was really ideal since no one in his right mind would think of going down there at night, pitch-dark as it was, and it served no useful purpose by day, I noticed - not even to piss or sneak a joint. It was indeed reserved for my use, clean and free of trash, only had to be swept once. It afforded me the privacy I needed, just outside the din and away from the periphery of passers-by. I could carry on with a light bit of yoga, with sitting meditation, with prayers and prostrations - even at certain odd times, the singing of a hymn or two. It was truly my cave away from home, where I had only to unroll the unobtrusive mat I kept with me, and voilà:  lights, incense, magic, roll 'em.

Now Farmington had lots of cowboys and truckers, it had Navajo ruins and ruined Navajo. It had whoopin' white teenagers and its share of Mexicans, but no Blacks. The only black fella I remember knowing there was Jerry, a guy I worked with in this Plaza, slinging hash and burgers in a 24-hour family restaurant called Hobo Joe's. I shuttled between two full-time jobs on the cook line, the other being Village Inn down the road a piece.  In my "cave" was the refuge I needed when time didn't permit a trip to my bare humble flat, and I could perform my devotions avoiding notice better than using some back lot or park.  It made perfect sense.

As my sitting meditation drew to a close late one evening, and I was due for work in about another twenty minutes a few doors away at Joe's, I was passingly aware of a commotion coming from the main alley pssageway.  This posed no bother in itself, as I felt very calm, my breath deep, and – I was somewhat interested in what all was afoot out there.  My instinct was in any case, to remain rock solid and at least outwardly unconcerned with whatever phenomena occurred.

No black youth in Farmington, I said, but right on the money here came five or six – sent from central casting, no doubt – quite seemingly looking for mischief.  I followed my instinct further for once, and learned a great lesson while having fun with these guys.  At age 26 I was about to release some baggage I'd been lugging around since my early school years all the way through junior high, high school and college.

My stillness and moreover the profound stillness of that "cave" if one can imagine it, so affected the lads they stood stalk still and one would honestly have thought they'd collided with a mama grizzly. That they even noticed or were the least concerned with this empty, uninviting, nearly pitch black blind alley instead of just glancing once if that, and running on looking for trouble, was really remarkable in itself.  They shouted, they threw pebbles.  I did not flinch, partly because I was in such a rich feeling of space at that moment and partly because I was preparing us all for a startling encounter.

They proceeded toward me one by one – with great caution.   What objects they carried, if any, I could only guess; my left profile was all they had, and I strayed not a hair's breadth.  This was not from fear but to create a learning experience for myself, using what was there, and for some likely benefit for all concerned; in other words, I was feeling friendly.  What was happening was occurring on three levels.

Deep in myself I was really enjoying this.  Outwardly I inadvertantly presented an ominous confrontation to these teenagers.  Nestled between these two perceptions were all the thoughts and emotions I was diligenty studying since the visitors actually caught me at so opportune a time.

What came up for me and how I approached it went as follows:  as they stood there grouped at the mouth of this "cave" shouting out "feelers," I was inspired in turn to remain as I was, resting on my heels, and relax deeply in contemplation that "me" and "them" were one – and on a gut level, or it wouldn't have been authentic, would not have been substantial for me.  I had to abstract and suspend the images of fear which arose full of subjective associations about former encounters with precisely similar groups of unruly teenagers, observing very carefully how my mind held the range of possible directions this story could easily take, and I became clear that it would go according to how I chose to "write" it.  This made me feel very generous in contrast with the intimidation I might have felt, and had felt when their clamor first struck my ear.

I turned my attention to this body, to the physical rather than the emotional, and all of that mental energy was not wasted or leaked out into the range of proximity I shared with them, where they could have picked up the germ of my paranoia (as that is how things work) and I did not stifle or sell out – all that mental energy, that simple concentration of thought, of prana, breath directed by will, was trained on my body, my physical form.  This was the decisive difference, and it beat me how I'd figured it out.  Training my thought entirely on my body, where I knew the whole drama was really taking place (not in that alley), and excluding all else, I focused on the sensory responses in my gut, the pounding in my chest (of which I alone was aware but was convinced it could be heard at a yard's length), and on the impressions which surfaced along with this.

When there is a physical pain or trauma to the body, the placement of a hand to the immediate area, along with a steady and calm mental current projected into the place (whereas the normal reaction is to recoil, tighten up and withdraw from the traumatized part precisely the urgently needed nourishment, acknowledgement or validation, or detached sanity) brings the body back into equilibrium as psychic resources are rallied to unify and to integrate.

Just so did I manage to hold and influence, by breathing into those areas, the network of reactive mechanisms set off by the encounter.  I grasped the immediacy of this circumstance:  that any empowerment of “numbers“ which they had, I'd given them; as I disempowered that notion – for my part – I disempowered it in them, and in the warmth I felt toward each individual, the recognition, even appreciation, we became a group which included me and them.   They felt no fear from me and nothing there for me to defend.

Indeed, the Buddha was in the palm of my hand.  Using a sense of timing to maximum enjoyment of this moment, I finally opened my eyes fully and turned to them, actually receiving them as guests, as though they'd walked into my living room rather than a bare concrete dark alley.   And they felt it.

The next ten minutes were spent discussing meditation, as that is what they caught me at.  Some remained standing, some crouched or sat.  I answered their various questions briefly, to the point, but with a relaxed humor, I felt they deserved my honest attention.  After all, why else was this totally unlikely event happening?  They even accompanied me "protectively" the couple doors further to my job, assuring me that this way nothing might befall me, as one never knows.   Had I not been due there for graveyard in a few mintues, we all would have been sitting together, that was fairly certain. "No," I'd answered one question they threw out in the alley-cave, "meditation isn't necessarily about leaving your body, it's often much more about being in one."

I believe this sort of turning a situation inside out is what the Sikhs call pratyahara.

I saw them on one occasion after that, the night they slashed a couple random bike tires which happened to be mine, that was it.

Muslim sein / Being a Muslim

Muslim sein

Ich möchte doch kein Muslim sein,

ich esse lieber manchmal Schwein,

und trink' dazu ein Glas Rotwein –

mein Herz bleibt trotzdem ehe rein.

(Schaut Gott im Herzen oder Magen?)

Ich kenn' mein' Bibel und Qur'an,

mir doch egal ob Ramadan,

ob Jom Kippur, ob Weihnachten –

mein Glauben kommt doch eh gut dran.

Ich bete um das Gut' in uns,

und voller Freud' zum allen Gunst,

das Leben ist ein' wahre Kunst.

(So lehrte Buddha die Welt einst.)

Heresie und Tradition,

Katholisch auch und Protestant,

jed' Gottes-Dienst in mir vereint –

denn ich weiß, Gott kennt kein' Feind.

Warum habt ihr kein' Humor?

Habt im Herzen ein Tumor?

Allein die Liebe, heißt das Tor!

Was habt ihr wirklich Bess'res vor?

Richtet nicht, beurteilt nicht,

Mitmenschlisches eu'r wahre Pflicht –

glaubt mir, Gott lässt kein' im Stich –

im Demut findet man das Licht.

Das Licht in jedem einzeln Dasein,

Mensch und Tier (ja, Rind' und Schwein),

Baum, Gewässer, Berg und Bächlein –

in jedem Auge, sucht den Lichtschein!

Wonach ihr sucht, woran ihr spuckt,

liegt im Herz' – geht hin und guckt.

Ein Spiegel ist die Welt – eur' Gluck

liegt drin ganz klar und unbeschmückt.

Dogma und Ideologie

schürt nur weiter Idiotie –

Jungfrau'n im Paradies ein' Phantasie –

denn Gott allein macht satt wie nie.

S.Inayat-Chisti, ca. 00.30., 20.4.11

Being Muslim

I do not wish to be a Muslim,

I'd rather sometimes eat pork,

and drink red wine with that -

my heart remains clean anyway in spite of it.

(Does God look into our heart or our stomach?)

I know my Bible and Qur'an,

it's all the same to me, whether Ramadan,

or Yom Kippur or Christmas -

my faith is none the worse for it.

I pray for the lovingkindness in ourselves,

and joyfully so for the good of all,

living is truly an art.

(So taught Buddha to the world once.)

Heresy and tradition,

Catholic too and Protestant,

every form of worship is unified in me,

because I know that God knows no enemy.

Why don't you have any (sense of) humor?

Have you got a heart tumor?

Love alone is the gate!

What better have you got to offer?

Don't judge, don't divide,
shared humanity is your real duty -
trust me on this, God doesn't leave anyone on a limb -
in humility one finds the light.

The light in every single Being,
human and animal (yeah, cattle and pigs),
tree, water, mountain and brook -
in every eye seek that light!

Whatever you seek, whatever you spit at,
lies in the heart - go there and look.
The world is a mirror - your happiness
lies therein totally clear and unembellished.

Dogma and ideology
stir up only idiocy -
Virgins in Paradise a fantasy -
for God alone satisfies like nothing else.