New Domain

Hey everyone, I will no longer be posting on this site anymore—-I will be putting all of my new posts on my new blog site at jonmichael.net.

Move on over to the new site!!! yayy

Letting Go

It seems to me that the forms of art that most absorb me are those that deal with faith and suffering. I think that is why the stories of Lord of the Rings and LOST have been so appealing to me—why they have spoke the strongest to me—because they both deal with those themes. And it seems to me that both of them end on a very similar theme—the theme of letting go of the suffering we cumulatively experience in our lives as we move on towards peace. It’s very moving to me—a very real and powerful note.

I watched the Return of the King tonight in theaters, and for the first time of the many that I’ve watched it—maybe 7 or 8 times—I actually liked the ending ( I loved the book’s ending, but I used to think the ending of the movie, although moving, meandered and missed the point.) I’ve always been a harsh critic of it, but now, I felt I connected with it. I’m not sure why this happened, perhaps from all I’ve learned since (in the 6 or 7 years), but I think it had to with how I’ve related to Frodo so much more this time around. The ending is really about him.

There were two parts in the narrative of the ending that most moved me. First was when Frodo returned to Bag End at the Shire. Standing in the study, which looked all but lifeless, he looked out the window on what seemed to be a grey world. He delivered this line, which made me tear up.

“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand. There is no going back. There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep. That have taken hold.”

Although I blazon moments of liberation, freedom, and bliss, they are the moments that I escape from my suffering. The moments apart from that liberation are what I feel I often return to—a bleak, dreary, yet familiar dwelling that I feel that I’ve resided in for much of my life. I think I do carry a burden of suffering, just like Frodo did, and just like the entirety of the human race does. Suffering is a part of life, part of the human condition. I think Frodo’s pain in this line really speaks to my own.

The second, and the most I was moved, was the moment when Frodo boarded the ship at the Grey Havens to sail into the West. Boarding the ship to leave Middle Earth, he was leaving all of his life’s sorrows behind. It was his moment of crossing over. As soon as he boarded, he turned back to look at his friends, and he smiled this most joyous and liberated smile. He was finally at peace. That was so incredibly beautiful to me, I cried like a bitch.

The last line is really edifying for me:

“My dear Sam. You cannot always be torn in two. You have to be one and whole for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be and to do. Because Sam, your part in the journey goes on.”

Feeling Alive

Meditation is making me weirder.

Today, during my day off, I spent most of it on laying on my bed thinking about a lot of things, pretty much doing nothing. It was an internet coma of sorts. It felt as if I was drowning in a sea of a million thoughts—thoughts of “have-to-do-this, do-that,” “things-should-be-this-way,” “have to use all my time before it disappears.” All of these thoughts were happening so fast, pulling me in a thousand different directions, and essentially putting me in a void of nowhere. I remember at one point reading three books at once—What the Buddha Taught, Mindfulness in Plain English, the Issue at Hand—and switching between the three in the middle of paragraphs. Finally, this feeling of emptiness swelled so much, my practice then called me. I had a deep, genuine desire to meditate and to be here. And this is interesting to me because it’s always been the other way around; I usually have to force myself, somewhat reluctantly, to start the process. But not this time.

So, I went outside, sat down in my yard, and took some slow deep breaths. Ahhh…there it is. There’s my breath. Here I am. Relax. It felt like a release. The thoughts that were once drowning me, I was just watching come and go, as I went back to this amazing sensation of simply breathing. Before long, I didn’t realize it, but in what seemed an involuntary motion, I plopped backwards on the ground and looked at the sky. The wonderful, beautiful sky. An image then came to my mind, a vague, but colorful memory of a time that seemed so long ago. There was an element of timeless to it, like it was always here. It spoke of a life joyous and beautiful. It was bright and deep with a richness all around. I focused on that image, seeing it in my mind’s eye and absorbing its beauty, letting it in—an ability that I believe was afforded to me by my practice in concentration. I think I may have started crying, then smiling almost immediately. I felt the earth beneath me. I dug my fingers into its wonderful texture.  It was such a surreal experience. It felt like nirvana.

Then I got up to start walking, still observing the miracle of what was happening. I walked out of my yard and into the street, slowly, deliberately. With each step came a feeling of disillusionment.  These thoughts and schemas about what I thought was there—provoking feelings of boredom, restlessness, or apathy—just seemed to cascade away. This letting go happened extremely fast, as I felt a rush of amazement. Everything seemed new, fresh, and wonderful. Even a car coming down the street was a mystifying experience. I walked around my neighborhood for a while and just felt all of it’s beauty, built up in memories over the years. It was comforting, and for it felt that, perhaps for the first time, I actually could see my neighborhood. I did this for about an hour before I came back to my house to write this entry.

Things just make more sense now.

I do believe this experience came about from a deep wish within me; to be apart of the miracle of my life and witness the true beauty of living. That is, ultimately, what I long for. I think had a taste of it today.

“If we could see the miracle of a single flower, clearly, our whole life would change.” -the Buddha

An Escape in Art

Today, I saw the Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers in theaters. There was a special one-time showing for the movie, part of a series of one-day releases for each movie in the trilogy to promote the release of the blu ray edition.

For those of you who don’t know, Lord of the Rings was one of my freakish obsessions growing up—probably the biggest one only after LOST. I used to watch the Fellowship of the Ring practically everyday of my freshmen year of high school, and about once a year since. However, I haven’t seen the Two Towers in at least 6 or 7 years, and watching it tonight was just incredible on so many levels.

It was interesting to watch particularly because it was a passion that has since abated. Through that, I found myself seeing things very differently, revisiting and experiencing old feelings in new ways, understanding them more, and altogether experiencing the process very differently. I’m a much different person than I was 5 years ago, and the movie seemed to bring out thoughts, feelings and wisdoms that I’ve since attained in the recent years. I also felt that I appreciated it with much more depth. I walked out of the cinema feeling great, refreshed with a new energy. I still do. It’s like, something about life makes more sense now, like a reconnected with a truer sense of myself, I’m more grounded, and I can rest a little easier. I really love the way that art does that. It just helps things make sense.

There were occasional parts of the movie where I would really connect with the happenings of the movie and I would be moved to tears as these beautiful images flooded my mind. Tolkien has a beautiful way with words and images, and this movie really captured a lot of his eloquence, depth, and appreciation for nature and the human spirit. At certain times, I would feel so connected to an image of a scene and the context of the events that it would amaze me. The most striking were the scenic images and the relationship of the characters to them.

One of my favorite artistic depictions of Lord of the Rings, "The End of the Age" by Ted Nasmith. It takes place at the end of the book when the elves, with Frodo and company, go to the Grey Havens at the Gulf of Lune to leave Middle Earth. There was a somewhat similar shot in the movie tonight with a beautiful moon, when Faramir is standing at the top of a ridge, overlooking the landscape of Ithilien with the moon in the sky, it really moved me.

One thing in particular that I thought was interesting was that I found myself connecting more with the character of Frodo, and less with Sam. I previously regarded Sam as my favorite and most inspirational in the series, but I didn’t connect with his story as much this time around. In the movie’s depictions of the characters, Sam is a very gung-ho, driven character, adheres strongly to his code of morals of helping others, and always does his best to save the day. Frodo, on the other hand, has a strong inner resolve and peaceful spirit at heart, yet he’s burdened and tormented by something that causes him much suffering—nothing of which he brought upon himself. I remember distinctly connecting with Frodo right after Gandalf died (also watched the Fellowship of the Ring this morning), and he just had this look of hopelessness that I really connected with. I think my shift towards appreciating Frodo showed me how I’ve changed as a person.

All the appreciation for the movie aside, the process itself was interesting because I noticed that, although I enjoyed it, there were many times where I was very inattentive. Occasionally I would drift away in mindless thoughts about what to do tomorrow, or who to call about what, or something really trivial. I was also very sleepy, and so my mind did not feel at its capacity to engage in the experience. I walked to the concession to get some caffeine, and had to dose off for about 5 minutes during the movie to get a mental boost. There was also an internal dialogue that came with that—judgments about how this could have been better, now I can’t enjoy it, and so forth. But whenever I would let that go—which was a little difficult—I would find myself watching an incredible movie that once really moved me at my core during a rich era of my life in high school. I hope with my practice I continue to reconnect with these sorts of processes in my life, so that my experiences will be much richer and more beautiful.

I can’t wait to read the book again. It’s gonna happen sometime in the not too distant future when my plate isn’t so full. Currently taking steps to free it, but we’ll see what happens in time.

“A single dream is more powerful than a thousand realities.” – J.R.R. Tolkien

June

This past Sunday, I had my first half-day meditation retreat, and the longest I’ve ever sat in meditation. It was four hours long. It was hosted at Mark’s house way up Cobb Parkway, seemingly right at the cusp of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Mark is one of the guys I meditate with at Sandy Springs. It was a wonderful, difficult challenge that was really enlightening.

It was interesting because I was actually very sleepy during a good portion of it and found myself dozing off. But it was interesting because that, in itself, was a challenge to be embraced. There was a lot of dialogue surrounding the act of falling asleep—harsh judgments, should-statements, lamenting the circumstances—all of which I confronted and embraced. I constantly would let go of those harsh thoughts, return to the freedom of the present moment, and be at peace again while mindfully trying to stay awake. What was funny is that later I had an interesting dream in one of my short-term naps where I was confronting a sad version of myself and forgiving him. I feel that was an extension of the new dialogue I was reinforcing in response to the judging dialogue of falling asleep.

After the retreat, there was a vegetarian lunch at the house, and I had a great talk with the people that were there. It is really wonderful to be in the presence of such spiritually passionate people—all of whom are much older than me—and share simple joys with them. I am really blessed to be a part of this community with them and I’m grateful for all the wisdoms we share. When we meditate together on Wednesdays, listen to talks, and discuss the Dharma, everyone really pours themselves and their hearts forward and it’s just so refreshing.

I am also especially grateful for Mark and Joel and what they’ve done for me. Mark is the guy who hosted the retreat, and Joel was the one who co-founded the community. I’ve sought them both for direction, advice, and wisdom regarding my future practice and plans, and they’ve shown great encouragement and insight. After the retreat I was talking to them both about my future plans, and they told me that, before I start running off to a work retreat or a Buddhist monastery, to wait and see how the 10 day retreat pans out, which they’ve given me much advice on as well.

Flowers blooming on Song Shan, a holy mountain of China where the Shaolin Temple lies. Taken on my first hike in China.

In other news, Nick has officially gone off to boot camp. On our last day together, we went and saw the new X men movie, had some drinks, and played some pool. On our way back we had a great conversation about our future, our friendship, and the appreciation we have for one another. It’s really awesome how effortless it is for us to speak to each other about matters like that. That night I dropped him off at his house, and as soon I got back in my car, to my surprise, I cried…. I cried, I cried, I called Lauren, and I cried. It had suddenly occurred to me that I won’t see him for a long time, and that a great source of comfort and happiness here in Marietta was lifted, and I felt empty. No more chilling at his place having rich talks, playing video games, watching movies, going out for drinks, or going to the pool. I was really sad, and I still kinda am. There have been times throughout my day where something happens, or I hear a story, and I instantly feel a want to relate it to him, but then I realize I can’t, and I’m sad. It’s like a part of my life is gone since he left. He’s really a great friend to me, and quite possibly the closest friend I’ve had.

I really think Nick will be a life-long friend to me, so although it will be a while before I see him again, I don’t think we’ll grow apart. I think we’ll grow, but we’ll still always be able to relate to each other, which I think is the best kind of friendship. There’s something about the way he is, and the way that I am, that just lets us come together and talk about anything openly and honestly, and we each bring something great to the table while still having a common ground to unite us. We talk effortlessly and nothing is ever uncomfortable. I think there is much ahead for us both, individually, and we’ll be sharing that a lot with each other in the years to come. He plans to write to me while he’s at boot camp, I’ve given him my address, and I greatly look forward to hearing from him and writing him back.

More updates and life-thoughts to come.

First Retreat

Big news for me: I have been accepted to take part in a 10-day Vipassana meditation retreat in south-east Georgia. The retreat is provided by an organization operating under the guidance of S.N. Goenka, who trains teachers all around the world to run the retreats.

(From Wikipedia): Goenka emphasises that, “The Buddha never taught a sectarian religion; he taught Dhamma – the way to liberation – which is universal” and presents his teachings as non-sectarian and open to people of all faiths or no faith. Goenka calls Vipassana meditation an experiential scientific practice, through which one can observe the constantly changing nature of the mind and body at the deepest level, a profound understanding that leads to a truly happy and peaceful life. For more info about Goenka and his retreats, you can check out the website at http://dhamma.org

I have so many feelings about this, most of which revolve around excitement, but there is a little anxiousness as well. I think this is going to be a very enriching and enhancing experience for me, and I think it will really help me move towards my goals in life of mindfulness, joy, and peace. At the same time however, I’m really nervous about it because I know it will be very challenging and difficult. Looking at the code of conduct and daily schedule, it seems to very intense. Here’s the schedule for the entire ten days that I’m there:

4:00 a.m.———————Morning wake-up bell
4:30-6:30 a.m.—————-Meditate in the hall or in your room
6:30-8:00 a.m.—————-Breakfast break
8:00-9:00 a.m.—————-Group meditation in the hall
9:00-11:00 a.m.—————Meditate in the hall or in your room
according to the teacher’s instructions
11:00-12:00 noon————–Lunch break
12noon-1:00 p.m.————–Rest, and interviews with the teacher
1:00-2:30 p.m.—————-Meditate in the hall or in your room
2:30-3:30 p.m.—————-Group meditation in the hall
3:30-5:00 p.m.—————-Meditate in the hall or in your room
according to the teacher’s instructions
5:00-6:00 p.m.—————-Tea break
6:00-7:00 p.m.—————-Group meditation in the hall
7:00-8:15 p.m.—————-Teacher’s Discourse in the hall
8:15-9:00 p.m.—————-Group meditation in the hall
9:00-9:30 p.m.—————-Question time in the hall
9:30 p.m.———————Retire to your room; lights out

The biggest thing that moved me was when I spoke to an interviewer on the phone about it (you have to be interviewed and accepted). He asked if I had any history of anxiety and depression—and I told him I had a little—to which he then told me, “a lot of that will come out on this retreat.” I was so moved to hear that. It makes excited to think that I will be uncovering so much of what’s going on beneath the surface of my life and contributing to my feelings of unfulfillment and discontent. I’m sure the wisdom that I attain will be surreal. Before we concluded he also reminded me that it will take a lot of energy and commitment to be able to follow through with the ten days. I told him I was very willing.

At the same time, I’ve gotten a lot of feedback from fellow people about what to expect and a good approach to take towards it.  I talked with Mark and Joel, two guys that I’ve met at Sandy Springs Insight Meditation—the community that I meditate with every Wednesday. They gave me some good recommendations, asked some people, and told me two things: to remember that it’s not the end-all-be-all approach to meditation and Buddhism (as much as they may say it is), and two, to follow instructions and advice to the T. I will talk more about these wonderful people and the amazing guidance they’ve given me in some upcoming posts.

Exploring the Mind’s Phenomena

Today I was meditating during a rather long lunch break, and I felt I was learning so much, so fast.

As I’ve developed my practice, I’ve discovered how there is so much going on at any one moment. Of the many happenings that occur, I’ve also discovered that the ones that occupy my attention the most, by far, are mental phenomena—the happenings of my mind. Watching my mind, I observe so many automatic, involuntary and subconscious processes that determine so much of my emotional state, my decision making, my train of thought… my reality. My life. And all these thoughts happen incredibly fast. During my meditation today, I brought attention to every little thought as it was happening and trying to observe and process it all. I felt I was learning so much that it became exhausting after ten minutes. I genuinely felt tired.

It also seems my train of thinking seems to have changed since last night. Last night I was with my friend when he told me a story that felt rather uncomfortable to hear. I don’t want to dive deep into details of who or what it was about— because that is not point of this post— but it dealt with someone in my past that I’ve made the effort to move on from. As he told me the story, I found myself feeling a deep sadness. Even a fear. Thoughts were racing and images swirled in my mind. In fact I don’t think I could explain the thoughts and feelings that happened because they were so fast, but they left me with a very ill feeling. For quite a while afterwards, and still a little now, everything that I thought and did had an undercurrent of this feeling. I was anxious and rather uncomfortable. I also want to take the time here to address my appreciation for my dear friend Nick for helping me through processing those feelings and thoughts that night.

I had another experience shortly thereafter that really helped me globalize all that was happening. I was listening to a song by Sufjan Stevens called, “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.” The song is about a serial killer who, back in the 1970s, raped and murdered 33 young boys in his home. It’s a really dark song, and paints the story in a very humanizing and discomforting way. After I had  been wrestling with a feeling of pain for about an hour, it was interesting to hear about a completely different—and much greater—instance of pain and suffering in the lives of other people. Actually it wasn’t interesting; it was humbling. Relatively, my suffering is slight compared to the devastation that was caused by this man. But after the same time it was strangely edifying to realize how suffering is truly a universal condition. I really just feel a strange feeling of awe from thinking about it.

Although hearing my friend’s story was rather difficult, stepping back and observing the phenomena, I found it to be a great opportunity for insight and exploration. It’s interesting how this experience happened to me, for I didn’t really see it coming. I mean, I hardly knew I had these thoughts and feelings, but there they were, underneath the surface of my life, and they came out when my friend told me this story. I can imagine they play a much bigger role in my life and my conscious than I am aware of. I think it’s harbinger of a great, insidious dialogue that has been a source of sadness, anxiety, and especially self-doubt, in a very, very insidious way. I feel that this dialogue, once addressed, can lead to a much deeper peace within myself and so many relationships in my life. I hope to continue to discover its source and processes through my practice, as well as similar dialogues that dictate the course of my thoughts. I believe through this, I can purge myself of maladaptive and absurd thoughts that lead to feelings of pain and suffering.

I will continue to embrace the suffering in the world around me. And especially, I will learn to embrace the suffering within myself. I see it as an exploration, for I know there is much that lies unquiet deep in the far reaches of my mind, which I feel I can uncover through my practice. Through this process, I can develop a readiness—a foundation of insight and awareness—which will help me to cultivate a peace in my waking life. I also believe embracing these sufferings will provide with a wellspring through which I can relate to others and share compassion with the world. To me, this is essential to my happiness, since relating and giving to others—giving to something greater than myself—is to me, the righteous path towards a sense of purpose, belonging, and fulfillment. This is my practice. And I believe I have a long way to go.

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this post was written several days ago, more things to write about have happened since then, I’ll post about them soon