I had a panic attack in the wee hours of last night. I was terrified, not of dying, but that a painful experience would continue for the rest of my life. Sleep disappeared.
“But you’re spiritually evolved, Bruce. You shouldn’t have panic attacks.” Oh yeah … no to both parts.
In the evening I’d watched a documentary called Wisdom Of Happiness, in which the Dalai Lama sat in a chair and talked to all of us resting behind the camera.
Brothers and sisters of this small planet, we are same human beings
His Holiness has the same joys and sorrows as I do. Fear and anger and sadness come to visit him, as they do us. He has learned to train his mind beyond what most of us can do.
I can change my mind. I can reduce anger, hatred
Hmm … and so can I. So can you
Here are one reviewer’s comments:
His Holiness begins by telling listeners to get rid of all expectations: There will be no miracles or blessings in this film.
…
The ninety-minute documentary has the feel of a master class delivered by a physician of the mind, recalling to us all that everyone has the capacity to develop clear-sightedness and, with it, hope.
***
Will more panic attacks come my way?
Quite possibly yes, as my frailties continue to emerge
Friends of mine are flying to Senegal today. I decided to sneak up to Brussels Airport and surprise them.
The flight leaves at 12:25 pm. A tram in Gent and a train to Brussels got me to the airport at 9:40 am. That’s pretty close to the three-hour recommended time.
The check-in to Dakar was in area 01. I stood there at 9:45 or so. Only about twenty folks were lined up … my friends not included.
So I was fine.
I figured that the dear ones would be taking an elevator from the parking lot with their luggage piled on carts. I found a big sign to hide behind, and I planned my moment.
There was a tiny slice of space behind the sign, and I adjusted my head so I could see the arrivers but they weren’t likely to see me. Perfect.
Would I burst out immediately, waving my arms as they came by?
Or would I delay it a bit, tiptoeing up behind them?
Either would be glorious.
As I waited, I saw the symphony of humanity flowing towards their planes. Some were dressed lightly, anticipating a warm destination. Others clearly were heading to colder climes.
And then there were the pilots and flight attendants … all dressed up with some place to go!
9:45 turned into 10:15 – still two hours and ten minutes from liftoff. I had already focused on hundreds of faces from my hiding spot. No friends.
10:45 … 11:15. And I was getting tired. Too much concentrating.
And then the realization:
Either my friends had registered at the Brussels Airlines desk awfully early, or they had switched flights, or they were so late that they wouldn’t get through security in time to fly at 12:25.
Last night five of us met at my home for our monthly playreading. We take turns for hosting, and yesterday it was me. I chose “Over The Horizon” by Eugene O’Neill.
We tried on new emotional clothes, each of us switching parts after every act.
…
Two brothers on the farm, one a dreamer, the other practical – Robert and Andrew
The girl that both of them love – Ruth
Their father, a lifetime farmer – James
Ruth’s mother, old and sickly and bitter – Mrs. Atkins
…
Listen to them
Perhaps become them
***
Robert: Suppose I was to tell you that it’s just beauty that’s calling me, the beauty of the far off and unknown, the mystery and spell which lures me, the need of freedom of great wide spaces, the joy of wandering on and on – in quest of the secret which is hidden over there – beyond the horizon?
Andrew: “I have loved wind and light and the bright sea. But holy and most sacred night, not as I love and have loved thee.” (He hands the book back) Here! Take it and bury it. I suppose it’s that year in college gave you a liking for that kind of stuff. I’m darn glad I stopped at high school, or maybe I’d been crazy too. Imagine me reading poetry and plowing at the same time! The team’d run away, I’ll bet.
Ruth (to Andrew): You see I’d found out I’d made a mistake about Rob soon after we were married – when it was too late …
And then I thought that when Mary came it’d be different, and I’d love him; but it didn’t happen that way. And I couldn’t bear with his blundering and book-reading – and I grew to hate him, almost …
I wouldn’t know how to feel love, even if I tried, any more.
James (to Andrew): You know I’m speakin’ truth – that’s why you’re afraid to argy! You lie when you say you want to go ’way – and see thin’s! You ain’t got no likin’ in the world to go. I’ve watched you grow up, and I know your ways, and they’re my ways. You’re runnin’ against your own nature, and you’re goin’ to be a’mighty sorry for it if you do. ’S if I didn’t know your real reason for runnin’ away! And runnin’ away’s the only words to fit it. You’re runnin’ away ’cause you’re put out and riled ’cause your own brother’s got Ruth ’stead o’ you, and …
Mrs. Atkins (to Kate – Robert and Andrew’s mother): It do make me mad, Kate Mayo, to see folks that God gave all the use of their limbs to potterin’ round and wastin’ time doin’ everything the wrong way – and me powerless to help and at their mercy, you might say. And it ain’t that I haven’t pointed the right way to ’em. I’ve talked to Robert thousands of times and told him how things ought to be done. You know that, Kate Mayo. But d’you s’pose he takes any notice of what I say? Or Ruth, either – my own daughter? No, they think I’m a crazy, cranky old woman, half dead a’ready, and the sooner I’m in the grave and out o’ their way the better it’d suit them.
Shugendo is “a harmonious blend of nature worship, Shinto, and esoteric Buddhism”. The high mountains of Japan are the spiritual realm where its practitioners (known as yamabushi) open themselves to the Divine.
“Yamabushi, ‘mountain-prostrators’, believe that submitting themselves to the sacred power of nature allows them to take on some of that divine power. They then use it compassionately on behalf of others when they return to their homes.”
Hiroko Yoda is one of these practitioners. She wrote about Shugendo in Tricycle magazine.
A man named En probably was the founder of Shugendo … 1300 years ago.
“He headed for the peak of Mount Sanjogatake, where he fasted, prayed and conducted rituals for a thousand days straight. His singular purpose was to make contact with the most powerful deity he could, in the hopes it might assuage the natural horrors wreaking havoc in the land [famine, earthquake and plague].”
Hiroko wanted to visit Mount Sanjogatake:
I wanted to see the spot where it happened. I wanted to see if I might feel any power for myself. I was ready. I’d come all this way. The gate stood before me. A pair of wooden posts six feet tall, with a board connecting the tops, a rudimentary door framing the wilderness beyond. Beside it stood a stone pillar, rough-hewn and squared, towering even taller than the gate. On it a series of characters were engraved into the surface: 女 人 結 界 (“WOMEN FORBIDDEN”).
!
Hiroko chose to obey the sign. After lingering a bit, she turned around and walked back down the trail.
She could have chosen to ignore the sign. She could have climbed Mount Sanjogatake.
Over the centuries, Shugendo has slowly welcomed women. But there are a few pockets of resistance.
Listen to Hiroko …
I came here to show respect, not to challenge taboos. I came because I wanted to get as close as I could, and I had.
Shugendo wasn’t the problem. Sexism masquerading as tradition was. Shugendo had changed. This place hadn’t.
Some buildings in Gent and Bruges are spectacular. Others are quiet as they sit by the street. And beauty lives there as well.
Sometimes my eyes are drawn to the centre of the composition. A simple vase of yellow flowers can have me pause … and just look, without comparison.
There are many centres out there, if I linger in the moment:
A person’s eyes, if they’re soft, can show me the universe.
The depths of my cappuccino, perhaps adorned with a heart, can reveal the mysteries of living a life.
Then there’s my hand, with its lovely arrangement of fingers. Will a tiny bird choose to land on a palm brimming with seeds … or will the hand continue to stand alone, happy to be seen or not seen?
…
Anda candle burns sweetly on the table, filling the room … just as we do when our hearts are open
I visited Julie and Raphaël in Zottegem, Belgium yesterday. She is my friend from the Evolutionary Collective, the organization we share on Zoom. Julie is one of the few members I’ve met physically.
The eyes showed delight from the first moment of meeting. The soft hug. The words of joining.
Some conversations are just so easy, such as yesterday’s. It didn’t matter what we talked about. Our words vibrated.
Raphaël is three, and was usually in play mode. I got down on the carpet with him. We drove trucks and diggers over the landscape. We giggled – he in Dutch, me in English.
Part of our talk in the EC is about the kids who are showing up on Earth … that they are messengers of a broader, more loving consciousness. Such as this young boy.
Three years ago, as Raphaël emerged from Julie, Patricia Albere (the founder of the EC) wanted to give him something special. And here it is:
How lovely! And I got to hold the brightness and heaviness in Julie’s home.
There are many ways that I have hurt others, betrayed or abandoned them, caused them suffering, knowingly or unknowingly, out of my pain, fear, anger and confusion.
I ask for your forgiveness.
There are many ways that I have hurt myself. I have betrayed and abandoned myself many times through thought, word or deed, knowingly and unknowingly. For the ways I have hurt myself through action or inaction, out of fear, pain and confusion …
I forgive myself.
There are many ways that I have been harmed by others, abused or abandoned, knowingly or unknowingly, in thought, word or deed.
I forgive you.
***
The Dalai Lama
May I be a guard for those Who need protection A guide for those on the path A boat, a raft, a bridge for those Who wish to cross the flood
May I be a lamp in the darkness A resting place for the weary A healing medicine for all who are sick A vase of plenty, a tree of miracles
And for the boundless multitudes Of living beings …
May I bring sustenance and awakening Enduring like the earth and sky Until all beings are freed from sorrow And all are awakened
