Category Archives: spirituality

spirituality

Belief-O-Matic

The Belief-O-Matic test has changed a little since the last time I took it. The results are still similar to my 2002 results:

1. Unitarian Universalism (100%)
2. Secular Humanism (95%)
3. Liberal Quakers (88%)
4. Neo-Pagan (82%)
5. Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestants (81%)
6. Theravada Buddhism (79%)
7. New Age (77%)
8. Nontheist (77%)
9. Taoism (71%)
10. Mahayana Buddhism (70%)
11. Scientology (70%)
12. New Thought (70%)
13. Christian Science (Church of Christ, Scientist) (63%)
14. Reform Judaism (58%)
15. Bahá’í Faith (55%)
…
22. Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons) (38%)

Apparently, Unitarians believe pretty much anything, so I’d fit in just fine there. Secular Humanism made a major jump on the charts, but all my other top ten have just rearranged themselves slightly in the past five years.

As a side note? Scientology should *not* be on that list. I’m not down with the aliens and Xenu and having religious tenets revealed to those who have donated a given amount of money to the church. Just my opinion.

mormonism 6 Comments

Conformity

Once again, I find myself with some time on my hands here at work. I actually have a cache of blog topics to choose from, for just such an occasion.

When I was a young church-going lass, there was a boy who was several years older than me. The oldest of the Headrick kids — I forget his name. Mom would know, since I think she taught him in Sunday School. At any rate, he was a “normal” kid: kind of soft-spoken, as I recall, and particularly tall. He had one thing besides his height that set him apart, though, and that was his predilection for bow ties. Mormon men and boys, as a general rule, wear standard neckties to church, so his bow ties made him stand out.

When he turned 18, he was called to be a missionary, as all good Mormon boys should be. He was sent out to the MTC (Missionary Training Center) in Utah… and the next time we saw him, he was wearing a normal necktie. Apparently, missionaries are required to wear neckties, and his cache of bowties were forbidden during his mission. I don’t know whether he ever wore his bow ties again, after he returned from his mission two years later.

I always thought that was just a little tragic. I understand the need for uniformity, but I’ve always wondered if the MTC managed to completely eradicate that one facet of Elder Headrick’s uniqueness.

I can’t believe I’ve never posted this poem before. I searched my site for it, though, and apparently I never have. My mother taught me this poem when I was little, and I’ve seen slight variations of the poem and its backstory in the years since. I believe Mom found it in a newspaper article and copied it down back in the mid to late 70s. This is how I remember it (with some help from the internet):

This poem was given to an English teacher by a 16-year-old student. It is not known whether he wrote the poem. It is known that he committed suicide two weeks later.

He always wanted to explain things.
But no one cared.
So he drew.
Sometimes he would draw and it wasn’t anything.
He wanted to carve it in stone
Or write it in the sky.
He would lie out on the grass
And look up at the sky
And it would be only him and the sky
And the things inside him that needed saying.
It was after that
He drew the picture.
It was a beautiful picture.
He kept it under his pillow
And would let no one see it.
And he would look at it every night
And think about it.
And when it was dark
And his eyes were closed
He could still see it.
And it was all of him,
And he loved it.
When he started school he brought it with him —
Not to show anyone, but just to have it with him
Like a friend.

It was funny about school:
He sat in a square brown desk
Like all the other square brown desks
And he thought it should be red.
And his room was a square brown room
Like all the other rooms
And it was tight and close
And stiff.
He hated to hold the pencil and chalk
With his arms stiff and his feet flat on the floor
Stiff
With the teacher watching
And watching.
The teacher came and smiled at him.
She told him to wear a tie
Like all the other boys.
He said he didn’t like them.
And she said it didn’t matter!
After that they drew.
And he drew all yellow
And it was the way he felt about morning
And it was beautiful.
The teacher came and smiled at him.
“What’s this?” she said.
“Why don’t you draw something like Ken’s drawing?”
“Isn’t that beautiful?”

After that his mother bought him a tie
And he always drew airplanes and rocket ships
Like everyone else
And he threw the old picture away.
And when he lay out alone and looked out at the sky
It was big and blue and all of everything.
But he wasn’t anymore.
He was square inside and brown.
And his hands were stiff
And he was like everyone else.
And the things inside him that needed saying
Didn’t need it anymore.
It had stopped pushing.
It was crushed.
Stiff.
Like everything else.

spirituality 1 Comment

What Can I Let Go Of?

I was posed a question today, via the ZenCast: What can I let go of, to make me happy? There are things in life that we all obsess over, think about, worry about, that tie up our minds and drag us down. If we just let go of some of those things, no longer allow them to have influence over us, we reduce our suffering and therefore become happier.

Sounds like tree-hugging hippie crap to some of you, I know. I challenge the rest of you to read on.

I gave the question some thought. What causes me the most grief? What in my life makes me the most unhappy, and how can I release it? Here’s what I came up with:

Expectations. I’m reminded of one of my first marching band performances, back in September of 1992. My high school was in the middle of a cornfield, and we played football against other schools in other cornfields, and went to band contests hosted by still other schools in other cornfields. I forget whether this was our first away game or our first contest, but I do remember being on the field and being disappointed that the grandstand was no larger than the one back at our school. I mentioned this to my best friend, Mel, when we boarded the bus to go home, telling her that the evening wasn’t what I’d expected.

Her response? “Never expect anything.”

I’ve held that piece of advice with me for all these years, although I’m not always good at following it. I always expect myself to pick up on new skills faster than I do. I expect myself to be generally more successful than I end up being. I set expectations of how things “should” go or “should” be.

I can let go of expectations, and my need for expectations. (Not to say that I can let go of aspirations or goals, although I suppose the true Zen practitioner probably would.) If I let go of my expectations, it becomes harder for me to be disappointed, either in myself or in a turn of events. It also becomes easier for me to be satisfied with whatever happens, because I didn’t come into things with prefabricated expectations.

Being disappointed in myself brings me to the next thing I can let go of:

Self-judgment. Every morning, when I turn off my alarm clock and roll back over for just five more minutes, my conscience speaks to me in my mother’s voice. “Come on, girly-girl. Time to get up.” But I don’t listen. I close my eyes once, twice, three times, often oversleeping to the point where there’s no physical way I can get to work on time. Every morning, my conscience turns from sweet and motherly to caustic and abusive, taking on my own voice instead, a tone of voice I don’t think I’ve ever used with another human being. I berate myself for being late to work, and hurl insults at myself for opting out of my morning shower in favor of getting to work only ten minutes late instead of 20.

I tend to take the Bible with a grain of salt these days. Even so, as with all holy books, there are still some nuggets of truth for all. Romans 14:22 is one of my favorites (emphasis mine):

Hast thou faith? have it to thyself before God. Happy is he that condemneth not himself in that thing which he alloweth.

Translation: If I allow myself to sleep in, I needn’t beat myself up over it after the fact. Take note, come up with a strategy to avoid oversleeping in the future, and fix it. Don’t be so judgmental of yourself.

I can let go of my self-judgment. I can appreciate that I am a work in progress, and I can give myself constructive criticism, but I can let go of the need to mentally flog myself over small things.

Which brings me to my final luftballoon:

Who I Am Not. Sometimes, I wish I were more motivated. Or thinner. Or that I didn’t procrastinate. Or that my hereditary jowls weren’t beginning to make an early appearance. Or that I weren’t so self-deprecating. Or that I could rid myself of any number of negative qualities. I often find myself depressed over who I am not. Rarely do I celebrate who I am.

In line with the ideas above, I can still give myself guidance on how to improve myself and cultivate positive qualities to replace the negative. But I needn’t obsess over who I am not.

I can let go of who I am not. She has no power over me. If she exists in another dimension, her life is much different than mine… and I wouldn’t give up certain parts of my life for all the world. Just like I wouldn’t want to change certain events in my life, because I wouldn’t be where I am today, I wouldn’t want to be who I am not, because I also wouldn’t be where I am today.

I can let go of my expectations, and my need for expectations. I can let go of my self-judgment. I can let go of who I am not.

What can you let go of?

spirituality 2 Comments

Zazen at Home

During my free time today at work, I did some Google searches on the various accoutrements involved in meditation at the zendo. Mainly, I was looking for places to purchase a zafu and zabuton, plus a bell to signify the beginning and ending of zazen.

Yes, I realize that meditation can happen anywhere, and that all the trappings are not necessary. Still, I was curious about how much these sort of things might cost; were they inexpensive enough, they would be classy and unique items to have around, and would perhaps help me get in the zen zone.

Or maybe not.

Zafu appear to be prohibitively expensive for a simple pleated cushion, often costing around $40 (not including the flat zabuton that goes beneath). Zen bells and gongs are less so; I got to thinking, though, that I would rather have a timer that sounded a bell or gong for me, instead of me acting as proctor for myself as I try to meditate at home.

I’d read about zen alarm clocks — I’d love to have one, except that I’m afraid it would wake Aaron, too, just like having the blinds open would. (Either or both of which would be ideal ways for me to wake, were we not on opposite schedules… but I digress.) So, off I went to find a smaller, less expensive zen timer.

What I found was the Meditation Timer. It has multiple timer settings, plays a digital recording of a zen gong at the beginning and end of the given time, and has a bunch of other cool features. However… it costs $65, and that’s with free shipping.

Finally, I decided that I need to start meditating at home without all the fancy zen accessories. I found a shareware timer program that can play a sound file of your choice when the timer hits zero; then I hit Google and found the zen bell sound I wanted to use. I set up the timer program, grabbed a throw pillow off the couch, lit some incense, found an appropriate piece of wall to stare at, and was good to go for my first successful home meditation session. (I say “successful” because I’ve tried it before and given up after only two minutes, being timerless.)

After an hour of a yoga DVD and ten minutes of zazen, I’m feeling pretty mellow. Not particularly productive, granted, but mellow and peaceful.

Maybe I’m on the right track for keeping a positive mindset and getting in touch with my inner self.

spirituality 3 Comments

On Aikido And Zen

I wouldn’t say aikido is getting easier, per se. I think maybe Sensei is starting with more basic techniques and building on them more slowly throughout the class. Plus, I’ve only been attending the Wednesday one-hour classes, so there’s only so much one can fit into that teaching block. At any rate, I feel like I’m picking up on things quicker, physically recovering quicker after class, and not being as terrified that I’m going to screw up.

We’ve been doing some techniques that require rolling, too. I haven’t gotten much better at it, but I have started to do it instead of wussing out entirely. At the suggestion of Taisho-sempai, I did about a dozen rolls by myself after class, and finally started to comprehend how it’s supposed to feel. I think. It stopped feeling so awkward and clumsy, anyway, and I came up on my feet at the end, so that’s an improvement.

After class, at Zen practice, I made a very, very important discovery: I can’t sit for extended periods of time in seiza (kneeling, sitting on my feet). I’m not sure how long our session of za-zen lasted, but my legs went past asleep to downright numb. When the bell rang for the end of za-zen, I physically could not get up. My legs had NO FEELING. I flopped around to face in the general direction of the altar, to which everyone was bowing from a standing position, and massaged my feet. They felt rubbery and detached.

You can probably guess that I didn’t exactly attain enlightenment during today’s za-zen session.

Immediately after za-zen, we were all to head out to the aikido mat in the other room to do walking meditation, so I forced my legs under me and balanced on lower legs and feet that I literally could not feel. I swear, this must be how people with prosthetics feel when they walk. There was no small amount of luck involved in my keeping upright during the short walk to the mat. After a little bit of walking meditation (which started out embarrassingly wobbly for me), the pins and needles came in, followed by normalcy. Finally. After several minutes of walking.

Never. Ever. Again. From now on, I sit on my ass when I meditate. None of this kneeling in seiza shit.

After an evening of aikido and zen practice, I feel much like I remember feeling after church. Calm. At peace with myself and the world. In tune with those around me. Except, adding the aikido into the mix, I also feel physically different. It’s like Sensei was talking about at the end of class today: training mind, body, and spirit takes more than just sitting and lighting some smelly-good candles. It takes effort.

I feel like Wednesday evenings are becoming my devotional to myself. Mind, body, and spirit.