Emotion Toolkit.com

My kayak glided on a gently undulating membrane separating one vast expanse of light and color below from one above.  Below me, clear, glowing water, about twenty feet deep, gleamed with violet, sparkling emerald, intense blue, and turquoise, exactly as one would imagine the Mediterranean would appear in dreams and fantasies.  I was floating on liquid amethyst.  Above me was the deep blue sky and serious summer sun of the Côte d’Azur.  The shore was lined with red-orange, sandstone cliffs where nude sunbathers reclined on the rock.  I paddled over crystal swells to hidden beaches coated with polished black and red stones the size of my palm.

As I looked around, I absorbed the tranquility and felt a deep appreciation.  What if I could share this experience with others right now, I wondered.  What if it was possible to transmit one’s own experience to others, people working in office cubicles or lying in hospital beds or sitting in prison cells?  I imagined the beauty and happiness of that moment going out like a radio signal to other hearts and minds.

I think my signal was received by my future self, because when I look back on my trip to France, I don’t feel grief that it’s over, I just feel wonderful.

Next time you experience a perfect moment, don’t tighten around it… share it.  Imagine giving your experience to everyone in the world.  You’ll never lose it.

* Click here to see beautiful photos of the Calanques just north of Saint Raphael, where people often go kayaking along the rocky coastline.

Once upon a time, there was an orange-breasted bluebird living near the canyons in the Sierra Nevada mountains.  She spent her days in a small swath of land studded with craggly pine trees and berry bushes, and in the pillows of wind filling the great space above.  Layers of forest ebbed into the distance, becoming bluer and paler until they dissolved into the mist of the horizon. 

Where sunlight mingled with cool air from the shadows of trees and boulders, she flew.  She flew effortlessly from branch to branch in search of snacks and curiosities.  One day, however, she felt a desire to fly beyond her usual territory.

I want to fly west towards the river and see the ribbons of gurgling light.  No wait, I want to fly north towards the peak of the nearest mountain and perch on the highest branch.  Which way do I fly?  What if I fly in the wrong direction?

Torn, she did not fly north or west.  She flew northwest, towards nothing in particular and found neither a river nor the highest branch.  Instead, she ended up in a place not unlike her starting point.

Disappointed, she then flew towards the river but thought continuously of the mountain and fretted about what she was missing.  Her thoughts of the mountain soured her experience of the river, and her crestfallen rendevous with the river dampened her desire to fly toward the mountain.  With that, she perched for a full afternoon on a dead branch near the river bank not knowing what to do next or what would satisfy her longing.

When finally she decided to attempt another journey, she focused intensely on the movement of her wings and began to worry. 

Am I flying correctly?  What if I make a mistake?

As her attention became isolated to her feathers, she lost her feel for the wind, and the air quickly became reluctant to carry her.  Her wings stiffened, resisting her flap-by-flap scrutiny and logical commands.  She entered a free fall, her heart siezed up, and fear enveloped her like a wave of sun-scorched air.  She fell into the leaves of a tree and thought she would meet the ground soon, but the air caught her wings again, and she lifted with it.  She flew to a nearby branch and rested.

She had failed to reach any destination, and she seemed unable to fly.  She descended to the ground and stood in the dry pine needles and brown leaves and dirt.

What do I do now?  I don’t like where I am, but I can’t seem to get anywhere else.

She poked around in the dirt for many days, too afraid to fly and too confused to select a journey. 

Then, one morning, a squirrel scampered by and darted up a nearby tree.  She watched as it climbed out onto a lone branch extending out over a clearing in the forest.  The squirrel was soon poised at the end of the branch.  Where would it go now?  Suddenly, the squirrel leaped into the open air.

The bluebird gasped.  She watched in horror, awaiting the squirrel’s demise.  However, instead of plummeting quickly to the ground, he opened his arms.  Flaps of squirrel skin fanned out from his body, and he caught the wind.  He glided across the clearing, soaring into the space like a ray of sun, and gently landed in the brush many yards away. 

He ran quickly back to the tree and scurried up the trunk.  His little claws on the thick bark made a comical clatter as he found his way back to the lone treebranch, positioned himself, and leapt again into the open air. 

Weeeeeeeeeeee!

The bluebird felt a light enter the knot in her heart.  Looking up, the bright blue and soft white of sky filled her with glee.  She rocketed into the air and flew across the forest.  She bounced on currents of air, grazed the treetops, and chased dragonflies around. 

The knot in her heart slowly unraveled.  Joy was her compass.  Joy was her destination.  In her play, she found her way to the highest branch of the mountain top, and from there she could see the whole river.

Intuition challenges the intellect.  The left hemisphere joins the right.  Feeling informs reason.  Masculine and feminine, Vulcan and Betazoid, head and heart… they highlight the distinction between love and logic.  Where logic plods along slowly and strenuously, love floats by, doing somersaults and laughing.

A cartoon by Randall Munroe from XKCD.com:

“We know the truth, not only by the reason, but also by the heart.”
~ Blaise Pascal

My friend Rick, who first introduced me to the Madison Zen Center, just had a birthday.  A devout Buddhist, connoisseur of conceptual emptiness, seeker of that which cannot be named, and one who is one with the Tao, I found myself wondering as I shopped for a gift, what do you get the Zen Buddhist who has nothing?

More difficult than shopping for the person whose material stockpile spans all imaginable knick knacks and sentimentalities is shopping for the person who claims as theirs the moon and stars and the whole of the cosmos.  Such a person may then walk penniless through the streets as the wealthiest soul on Earth.  I’m reminded of something comedian Steven Wright said: “I have the world’s largest collection of seashells. I keep it on all the beaches of the world… perhaps you’ve seen it.”  (Note: I am convinced that Steven Wright was a Zen Buddhist in a past life whose teacher gave him one too many koans, at which point he mastered the Zen of humor.  ”I have an existential map,” he claims.  “It has ‘You are here’ written all over it.”  I rest my case.)

Perusing aisles of trinkets and niceties, I became aware of my tendency to seek to give that which my future recipient seems to lack.  In this way, my gifts begin as an affirmation of insufficiency.  I also strive to find the “perfect gift,” which is generally impossible.  Consequently, I’m never fully satisfied with what I pick out.  In this way, my gifts often belie a sense of imperfection, inevitably falling short of the unimaginable ideal that I feel my loved ones deserve. 

For someone who values transcendant qualities of life, my samsaric gift shopping tendencies seemed even more ridiculous.  What then does one give?  

I decided to set my concerns aside and simply experience the joy of gift shopping.  Some fine tea, a simple mug, quality free-trade chocolate, candle and incense. 

But those items do not complete the gift.  The thing my friend seems to enjoy most is witnessing moments of awakening in others.  Though minor, I learned something about the way the mind approaches the act of giving.  I abandoned the notion that gifts are meant to fill a hole, and as I let go of this dualistic perspective, if only for a short time, my heart was luminous.

Happy Birthday, Rick!

Recently, I meditated for five hours at the Zen Center in town.  During that time, I thought frequently of my children, particularly my five year old, Erik.  The next day, I told him that mommy was thinking about him and sending him love.  “I know,” he said, “I felt it in my mind.”  I thought that was amusing, so I asked him to describe his experience.  He said, “Wull, it was like, first I saw you in my mind, and then I saw love hearts everywhere.”  Of course, at this point I was melting into my chair, giggling, and euphoric.  Later, he pretended to remove love hearts from his head and put them into my head. 

So here’s to sending out love hearts!  Love hearts for you who need a friend.  Love hearts for you who worry about what will happen tomorrow.  Love hearts for you who miss somebody.  Love hearts for you who have too much work to do and not enough play.  Love hearts for you who need a hug or money in the bank or just some conversation and smiles.  And for all my friends and family.  Be well and have a wonderful day!

From The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

I recently begun listening to music with Hindu mantras (i.e., kirtan).  My friend, Michael, gave me a CD with songs by Deva Premal which are the most beautiful songs I’ve ever heard.  You can listen to her songs free online here:

http://www.last.fm/music/Deva+Premal/_/Om+Hraum+Mitraya
http://www.last.fm/music/Deva+Premal/_/Homage+to+Krishna
http://www.last.fm/music/Deva+Premal/_/Brahma+Nandam
http://www.last.fm/music/Deva+Premal/_/Om+Namah+Shivaya

Those are my favorite songs so far, all from the album Dakshini.  

I went to my first kirtan with Richard.  It was absolutely beautiful!  In kirtan, several people play instruments (drums, guitar, etc) while one person sings a mantra, and everyone else repeats it.  This continues back and forth for hours until you become so absorbed in the music that you forget you are only one voice.  I used to get this feeling when singing harmony with the band, Dreams & Train Smoke.  I was drawn to karaoke for this experience.  I wanted to feel love energy come out through my voice, but something about being the only one singing bothered me.  Karaoke has a tendency to highlight ego, but kirtan allows it to dissolve. 

• Gazing at a field of poppies on canvas… a block of solid red paint
• Sad happiness, happy sadness
• Kaleidescopes of underwater microscopic life
• Seeing the big picture in a single moment
• A row of bees embroidered on a handbag, bees lined up in a buzzing column, something from a dream
• Vertical energy, horizontal
• A rainbow spiraling in a circle in the sky, a photo retouched in the same way that my mind seems to play with reality
• Open doors, closed doors, open doors, closed doors
• Iron puzzles from which one must free the circle, which only appears trapped
• Hands of invisible fear holding joy
• A bird feeder pendant
• Smiling, laughing
• Running through hundreds of long, colorful vinyl strips hanging from the ceiling
• Heaven condensed on the ground like fog