Writing to help us slow down and see

White moon, bright moon, pearling the air, on Flickr

light of the moon

moves west - flowers' shadows

creep eastward

Buson

Kaspa writes: When I look at the world, I look through a forest of thoughts. Perhaps there is a patch of clear light in the distance, but more often than not what I see is coloured by unconscious judgments. Either that or my mind is so frenetic, bouncing from worries about the future to thoughts of the past, that I don't see anything at all.

Putting pen to paper can help me cut through the forest of thoughts so that I can really see the world.

The Japanese word seijaku is usually translated simply as calmness, but perhaps a more accurate translation is 'calmness in the midst of busyness'.

It's easy to be calm when you're on a beach watching the sunset, and listening to the waves gently lapping the shore. It's less easy to find that space in the midst of our ordinary working lives. Creating a space for writing poetry in the middle of my busy life helps me to find some calm. Some seijaku.

Sit down. Take a few deep breaths and really look at the world. Experiment with writing slowly, with taking time over each letter. Ask yourself, in what direction are the shadows of the flowers falling? Slow down and fall in love with the world.

When I do this, sometimes I'm really able to connect deeply with what's in front of me.

Sometimes my thoughts are unremitting though. My experience is that if my mind doesn't settle my thoughts are usually telling me something important. In these cases I can use writing to help me unravel what's going on.

The moon, alone,
Taunts me from the heavens
With memories of you;
Should you feel the same, then
Our hearts would be as one.

Saigyo

In August I'll be running my online course in Eastern Therapeutic Writing again. One of the most popular parts last time was the waka module, where we looked at how using Japanese forms of poetry can help us connect with ourselves and world. We also experiment with Naikan to help with our relationships with others, and Morita to help us act in the world, as well as working with personal koans.

I got some great feedback from students last time. Find out more here.

Delicious words

To Christ our Lord

I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, – the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: shéer plód makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.

Gerard Manley Hopkins 

*

This poem is calling out to be read out loud. Do it. And then hear it being read here.

Words are gorgeous. Dapple-dawn-drawn falcon. Chevalier. Gash gold-vermilion. Taste them properly. Delicious, delicious.

Today, when you notice your small stone, I'd like you to try and enjoy the lusciousness of words as much as you can. Which words sound better together? What order? Read them out loud. Do they work? Do they need to be tweaked?

Mmmm, words.

If you feel moved to do so, it'd be lovely if you shared them in the comments section below.

Are you failing?

(if you're new it's not too late to start writing small stones - go here)

A post from the archive from Fiona:

Are you failing?

"I know that of what I've written so far, most are not actually small stones. Like I said at the beginning, maybe it's enough to write something every day, but I'm not even managing that. Have I failed already then? I don't think so. I am looking more closely and I am thinking more clearly, whether I write it down or not. So, I'm not going to beat myself up but be grateful for the space to reflect on such things. I've been in a pretty negative place lately and that has already changed. I'm feeling grateful for all sorts of things and a joy that has long been absent has reappeared. There are glimpses of hope and so I press on, trying to be more disciplined in my daily writing and reflecting on it's value. Perhaps other things have changed that might account for this change of heart, I don't know, but it seems to me that small stones are building new foundations."

This is from Ghost Writer at Lime Tree Legends. 

I wonder who else out there might have started with good intentions and tailed off. Or missed a day and given up. 

As Ghost Writer says, it doesn't matter. As writers (as people) the important thing is to begin again. 

And again.

And again.

One small stone, or even ten seconds of looking for one, is better than none. 

Do share your own experiences of perseverance (how to or how not to!) in the comments.

Writing and spirituality

“When you are present, the world is truly alive.” ~ Natalie Goldberg

When I was younger, I read Natalie Goldberg's classic, Writing Down the Bones. In it she says many sensible things about being a writer. She also talks about her practice as a Buddhist. 

I was a proud atheist at the time. But the things she talked about (mindfulness, faith) seeped into me somewhere. Seeds were planted.

Fast-forward to the present day, and I'm married to a Buddhist priest - and I'm following a similar path myself. My practice as a Buddhist is important to me on many levels. But are there links between spirituality (however you define it) and writing small stones?

I think that spirituality is good at putting us in touch with something that is larger than our 'small selves'. Something that knows better than we do. You could see this as mother nature, with her seasons and her endless recycling, or you could see it as something more mystical. Either way, connecting with what's around us can help us to find a new kind of wisdom.

I also think that spirituality and a writing practice can both help to steady us. Life is a roller-coaster. Sometimes knowing that we have a daily meditation practice or writing practice gives us a place to return to, a  structure, a reassuring constancy in the middle of impermanence. 

Finally, spirituality and writing are both good at opening us up - softening us - so we can connect more mindfully with those around us (including the planet). It helps us learn about ourselves, and others. It helps us see more clearly (including the bits we'd rather not see). Ultimately, it helps us to love.

I'd love to hear what you think about the links between spirituality and writing - do share in the comments below.

I'll leave you with another quote from Natalie - 

“Stress is basically a disconnection from the earth, a forgetting of the breath. Stress is an ignorant state. It believes that everything is an emergency. Nothing is that important. Just lie down.”

Paying attention to strangers

(it's never too late to join the river....)

Outside our conservatory windows are a mass of petunias. 

They are fuchsia pink, deep purple bleeding-at-the-edges, salmon pink, lily-white. 

They change every day. I watch them extra-carefully, because I planted them. I watered them as they grew from teensy little things into great blooming bushes. They are 'mine'. 

We are especially fond of things that we attach to our 'selves'. They are 'my' petunias, and so I have a good relationship with them. I take care of them. I appreciate them.

But what about the lemon-balm that was here when we arrived? What about the weeds blooming on the path round the back of the house?

Writing small stones encourages us to notice the things that aren't attached to our selves, and to pay them exactly the same kind of attention. To stop and wonder how strangers are, as well as our friends and family. To love them just as much.

Can you do this today when you look for small stones? Can you look beyond your self?

Really seeing the other leads to freedom

A post from our archive by Kaspa:

This week my teacher Dharamvidya David Brazier has been in Israel leading some workshops on psychology. In one of them he talked about how really seeing the other can set you free.

What he describes is also the philosophy that underpins this whole project, and I owe a great debt to him, and others, for teaching me.

"...the focus is upon discerning the truth of the other and achieving spiritual maturity. One achieves liberation for oneself by releasing others from the attachment generated by one's own deluded and stereotypical perception of them. The self-construct is the mirror image of these false views of others. To see the truth of the other is to release them and thereby, incidentally, to release oneself from one's self-construct." Love and Its Disappointment blog

As we more clearly see the other, the other moves away from being what, on some level, we want it to be, and becomes more real. In this way we release the other and give it freedom to exist - and we release ourselves too. As we take away the prop to our 'small self' and grant it existence, we become liberated.

The truth shall set you free.
(John 8:32, The Bible)

small stones as a gratitude practice

As part of our morning practice, Kaspa & I do a few minutes of something called 'Nai Quan'. 

We sit quietly and ask ourselves three questions - over the past 24 hours, what have I received from others, what have I offered in return, and what trouble has my existence caused others?

This morning I decided to focus on the first question, and my immediate surroundings. 

After feeling thankful for my zafu (the cushion I sit on), I turned my attention to the lamp we bought from IKEA last year. The photo above really doesn't do it justice. 

It has a double layer of golden woven rattan, in an elegant tulip curve. It sits on top of a silver 'bud' and a simple stem, and the light makes warm patterns on the walls as it passes through the weaving. 

After thinking about receiving the beauty of this lamp, I went on to think about who had made it. Who wove the shape? Where was the rattan grown and picked? The sun shone on it, and someone watered it. Where did the metal come from? How was it made? Where is the smelting factory? Who made that? Who works there?

And then, the light-bulb. What an astonishing invention. The electricity that comes through the wall into our house. Who laid the lines underground? Where is the electricity made? 

I could go on. All this, so I can press a button and let golden light into our shrine room. 

Today, see your small stone practice as a gratitude practice. Look around you. What have you received in the past 24 hours? What can you notice? What are you thankful for?