Photo: Tony the Misfit

Buddhism certainly has caught fire in the West over the last couple of decades. As we face ever greater threats to our humanity, Buddhism has become, in some ways, the “go-to” religion for those searching outside the Christian values set forth in western society.

Mark Vernon, in the Guardian’s “Comment is Free” section, recently wrote about his week spent at a Buddhist meditation retreat in the UK. He outlined the process – very similar to ones I’ve experienced here in the US – of silence, sitting, walking, and eating meditations, and also work meditation. Teachers are on hand to begin and end sessions, act as helpful guides, and to intervene if a student is having issues.

Vernon espouses the importance of meditation – central to Buddhism, as most people know – for gaining insight into the idea that life is suffering, and the way to be delivered from that suffering is to accept this “noble truth” and release attachment. He grasps the importance of deepening insight in order to heal ourselves, but then he wonders about the bigger picture of possibly becoming self-absorbed:

Meditation-as-therapy flirts with narcissism when it is devoted to observing yourself, for that can lead to self-absorption and self-obsession. It’s a danger inherent in any community devoted to a particular task, though perhaps more so in one that lacks a reference point beyond the individuals taking part.

Is that what insight religions like Buddhism do? Make us more self-centered?

Is Christianity More Enlightened?

On the other hand, Vernon notes, Christianity – in theory – is about something outside of ourselves, namely God. Christians are in “service to something greater” than themselves – at minimum going and donating to the church, and at maximum living a life in service to God and others. He continues:

But I did wonder whether a God-centred spiritual practice might offer a better way to get over yourself, and in turn offer a more satisfying “therapy”.

I can see a bit of the logic from an “on paper” point-of-view, but what immediately struck me when I read about being in service to God, is that many people do this in order to get to heaven. I’m not talking about nuns or priests, or even extremely devout Christians.

But I am talking about a normal human being who follows certain rules of the religion for the purpose of, and fears around, their own salvation, and not simply because of their love of God in and of itself.

Self-Inquiry Vs. Narcissism

Besides this possibility, I also see this perspective as not seeing the whole picture. As many people who take the time to explore themselves and the “whys” of what they do often say, each of us must understand, love, and feel compassion for what is inside before we can ever truly be of service to others.

And this exploration leads to a balance or contentment that sends out a ripple effect on the world, namely through lacking the anger that so many people carry in our extremely stressed out world.

I’m not trying to say that Christianity, or any other religion, cannot lead to the same insights. In fact, meditation has become (and really, always has been) a large part of several Christian sects. But to me, Buddhism teaches an “all-one” belief system that inherently requires being of service to others, but understanding that you must continue to be in service to the self at the same time.

There is no doubt in my mind that as with all things, extreme narcissism is an option – initially. But if a person really puts time into the process, they won’t end up that way. And in a world where we need each other more and more every single day, giving yourself love is an absolute necessity.

I want to leave you with a video created in celebration of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, which was yesterday here in the states. I think these quotes describe a beautiful balance between love of self and love of others, and really, how they are no different:

Do you think spending too much time looking inside makes a person self-centered? Share your thoughts below.

Community Connection

Need more great reminders of the power of MLK’s legacy? Then check out Tribute to Martin Luther King, Jr. Plus, stay updated with the latest stories and movements in Haiti at Matador Change.

Photo: Pam from Tokyo

I stepped off the night bus at 5:30 am into a dark, cold Kyoto morning. My last morsel to eat had been the night before and my stomach gave a little rumble for food, to which I replied, “Quiet, you’re fasting.”

I had been reading a lot lately about Japanese Zen and the country’s old capital Kyoto. The city has long been the cultural and religious centre of Zen culture, and today it still retains an extraordinary cache of ancient temples, shrines and gardens.

For these reasons it was an easy call. I would make a pilgrimage to Kyoto and get away from the mayhem and mind cluttering pace of my job in Tokyo.

Tokyo was recently ranked number one in the world by the US Census Bureau as the most populated and most expensive city to live in. On other unofficial lists Tokyo rated number one for most neon, concrete, and sweating, stressed, gray-suited salarymen.

In a megalopolis of such gargantuan proportions, like Master Daito said:

“Time flies like and arrow, so do not waste energy on trivial matters. Be attentive. Be attentive!” Zen Master Daito, 1337

My days are a blur of crammed subway cars on my way to work, then somehow it’s Friday night and I am in an izakaya (Japanese pub), drinking sake trying to recall where the time went.

This is why after reading Zen Master Daito’s words I was inspired to make a move.

Seeking True Zen

After taking the week off work, I bought a bus ticket and was on my way to Kyoto. My plan was to wander from temple to shrine, teahouse to Zen garden through the back alleyways and foothills of the city savoring the beauty, autumn and life.

Photo: Stuck in Customs

There would be no email, no cellular phones, no television, no shopping, no restaurants, pubs or socializing. It was to be five days of detachment from all things meaningless, and a disciplined focus on the path. It was a simple plan, which coincidentally is one of the main precepts of fundamental Buddhism, simplicity.

Another Zen master named Ikkyu Sojun (1481) once professed, “The appreciation – the savoring – of beauty in all its forms is true Zen.” That was my goal. I knew the stressful social reality of the urban work-a-day world would still be waiting for me when I returned.

Looking around to get my bearings the sky began to lighten at the edge of the horizon. I wasn’t in a robe and straw sandals in the traditional ways of other monks, but I had packed as light as possible and was shouldering only a small daypack.

To make my pilgrimage to Kyoto even more interesting and beneficial I figured a five day fast couldn’t hurt. Around 1600 years ago the Buddhist monk Boddhidarma became famous for meditating against a rock wall in a cave for nine years, and cutting off his eyelids to keep from falling asleep during meditation.

I knew my sacrifices were only small compared to the great monks but I knew every journey started with just one step.

A Special Pilgrimage

Kyoto was not the ancient wood and tile roofed city that I had half expected it to be. The train and bus station was a monstrous ultra-modern complex, and the city rolled out in front of it like a glass and steel swell.

Beauty however, is something Buddhists preach as being innate and intangible, a value which you must look closely to see. I took it as the first lesson of my pilgrimage and stepped off the curb, heading out into the city to start my training.

The first night I checked into a ramshackle, one hundred year old guesthouse from the Meiji period. It was tucked in a small alley off the main road. I was given a sheet and pointed towards a futon on the floor of a big tatami matt (woven straw) room. It was a traditional house with paper-thin walls.

All the noise and cold from the streets outside filled the room. I had packed only a few clothes so I put on everything I had and sat cross-legged on my futon reading a Buddhist text. Across the street sat an old Shinto shrine, painted bright orange with a thick thatched roof, and next door an antique shop selling old Japanese scrolls and trinkets.

Though I was staying in a guesthouse in a thriving metropolis, it still felt like I was on a special pilgrimage. I curled up under the blankets on my futon and went to sleep early.

Emptying The Mind

The next morning I snuck out of the guesthouse while it was still dark. I had rented a bike the night before and as dawn broke and the stars faded I peddled my way to the edge of the city towards Nanzen ji (temple) enjoying the calm of the empty streets.

Photo: Deadly Tedly

My head was empty. I was thinking of nothing.

A sturdy, monstrous two-story wooden entrance gate greeted me at the foot of the temple complex, which rolled back into the colorful autumn foothills and lost itself amongst the trees. The bright sunrise sparkled in the dew and glistened on the dark timber temples.

The current headquarters of the Rinzai school of Zen, Nanzen-ji is scattered with simple and extravagant teahouses, halls and temples all meticulously built during the Edo period. Each is surrounded with impeccably trimmed gardens. The complex was ancient and still.

I wandered aimlessly around the grounds for an hour without thinking before sitting beneath a blood red Japanese maple for some Zazen; seated meditation.

Emptying your mind of all thought is not an easy task. It takes discipline and practice. Your mind is constantly filled with a continual procession of thoughts on every subject under the sun.

Most are trivial and unneeded responses to certain sights, noises, smells and other stimuli. Training yourself to clear your head, block out your surroundings, and suppress the series of useless thoughts that bubble up from your unconscious is very difficult.

But like everything else in life, with practice you get better and it becomes easier.

And when you first begin to grasp the process of emptying your mind, of thinking of nothing, of quiet meditation, the pervading calm and feeling of peace you experience makes you feel more alive and more eternal than ever before.

The First Test

Leaving the temple I approached the spot where I had left my bike, only to find an empty bit of fence. I looked up and down the bare sidewalk. I stood frustrated.

A moment later, realizing that my face had squashed into an angry grimace and my muscles were tense, I laughed aloud and relaxed. I remembered the philosophy of the Zen Buddhist ‘koan.’

A koan is a riddle devised by the Chinese Zen masters to stop budding Buddhist minds from wandering. They had their students meditate on a koan and channel their thoughts and feelings into a single purpose. Sometimes koans made no sense, focusing on a state of mind rather than words. They were a valuable exercise in helping students work towards enlightenment.

Standing there I recited my first koan, the riddle I would meditate on during my day’s wandering:

‘Feet or wheel what makes a better discipline. Was the bike actually real in the first place or are my feet just a figment of my imagination.’

Without a bike and with no hopes of getting my deposit back I mentally detached myself from the lost piece of metal and went on my way unconcerned. I had passed my first test.

The Second Test

My second test came later that afternoon at Ryoan ji, legendary for its Zen rock garden, the most famous of its kind in the world. Created in the fifteenth century, the garden is simplicity itself—fifteen rocks arranged in a sporadic rectangle of raked white gravel. The designer is anonymous and the message of the garden unknown.

Some scholars believe the rocks are the peaks of mountains poking out above a bed of clouds, others say the rocks are islands floating in the sea. I sat on the viewing platform with the other visitors staring at the rock garden.

People came and went. I sat. I stared. I focused on the stones as everything else around me faded, lost in my own mind
Suddenly I gained my second minor enlightenment.

Nothing! The rocks and the garden meant nothing. There was no meaning. Just as Buddhist philosophy preaches that everything comes from nothing and returns to nothing, and that life is all an illusion, there was no rock garden, there was no Ryoan ji, there wasn`t even an ‘I’.

It was just another koan, a physical koan written in stones and pebbles not words. I had passed my second test of the pilgrimage.

The Third Test

Kyoto in autumn is notorious for crowds. They followed me everywhere I went that week. The great Zen monk Hakuin’s master once told him: “If you can maintain your presence of mind in a city street teeming with violent activity, in a cremation ground amid death and destruction, and in a theatre surrounded by noise, then, and only then, are you a true practitioner of Zen.”

Wandering through the crowded temple grounds of Kikanku ji, home of the stunning Golden temple, I suddenly noticed that I had stopped dead in my tracks. I was standing still in the middle of the path staring blankly ahead, focused on nothing.

When I noticed the crowds having to step around me, I began walking again, joining the thick stream of visitors heading towards the temple. I was finally aware of the ancient practice that I had so often read about, ‘Zen in action.’

Monks continually speak of it — the total absorption they experience when doing basic tasks such as raking leaves, polishing floors, chopping wood, or simply walking. I realized what master Hakuin Ekaku (1768) meant when he said, ‘Meditation in the midst of action is a billion times superior to meditation in stillness.’

I passed the third test of my pilgrimage.

Essence of Existence

The week was not easy. My struggle to fight off the tempting smells wafting from soba noodle shops and the sight of fresh, red sushi calling to me from shop windows made my mind wander to grand dinners and plates piled high with delicious food.

My slow exhausted plod up the smallest of inclines required me to lean against buildings or rest against trees to catch my breath, and one hour in the middle of night four I awoke with stinging hunger pains in my stomach. ‘Hard training is the essence of the Buddha’s and the Patriarchs.’ Sojun Ikkyu once said.

I knew my sacrifices were only little, but they were tests, and I was passing. Sojun Ikkyu also once said, ‘Buddhas are made, not born.’ It’s not that I wanted to become a Buddha, more that I wanted to shake off that materialistic, false cloak of unconstructive priorities we have sewn for ourselves in this modern age.

Boarding the night bus to return to Tokyo, Japan’s oppressively crowded, teeming capital of flickering neon, Louis Vutton hand-bags and fancy hair-do’s I somehow felt more alive then ever before.

Old Zen Masters like Ikkyu, Indian sages like Rama Krishna, and old poets like Keats and writers like Emerson had insights into the real essence of existence. They recognized the beauty and timelessness of nature, understood the value of simplicity, and practiced the sentiments of kindness, patience and honesty.

The Return Home

I did not venture to Kyoto to become a Buddha, a patriarch or even a monk, but ‘The wisdom attained by practicing Zen in the midst of the world of desire is unshakable.’ A little strength, a little benevolence, a little hint of wisdom, that’s what I was hoping to attain. And I had. I had tasted them without even eating.

I was ready to return to the world’s largest megalopolis and the stressful social reality of the urban work-a-day world that I knew was waiting for me.

However, I vowed to myself that it would not overshadow what I had learned in Kyoto and what I knew was most important in life. Sitting in my seat as the city disappeared from view I remembered a poem written by Ikkyu Sojun that summed up my five days in Kyoto and the culmination of my pilgrimage:

I won’t die,
I won’t go anywhere,
But I won’t be here.
So don’t ask me anything –
For I won’t answer!

Have you experience the essence of Zen? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Arj Barker, aka Dave from Flight of the Conchords, kicks some Buddha-butt in this music video parody. The clip originally made it’s way around the web in late August, but now that it’s back online, it’s worth sharing for a Friday laugh (hat tip to Casey for sending the link):

Clever? Yes. But does it feed an inaccurate perception of spiritual materialism? Ethan Nichtern, commenting for Beliefnet, writes:

It’s funny, but it’s not the kind of humor that requires much mentally, and is super easy to achieve (yes I do think I could’ve written it better), and ultimately I think it plays into a dark and inaccurate view of mind/body practitioners.

He believes judging others for their materialist trappings betrays our own inability to understand:

…until we are enlightened, a personal mixture of awakened compassion and selfish confusion forms the basis for everything we do. The contemplative path is about working directly with this mixture, not rejecting it in self or others. The path is to notice our selfish confusion and slowly massage it away through repeated attention.

At the same time, the path is to notice our already-present positive intentions and habits, and slowly cultivate and amplify these until they infuse everything we do.

Ultimately, Ethan believes it’s not about avoiding spiritual-materialism entirely.

Spiritual materialism is not something to reject. Noticing spiritual materialism is the path.

What do you think of the smoking sage by the pound? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Community Connection

Need more Buddha’s rapping? Check out Lama Boy’s music video – then visit MatadorTV for more great Buddhist clips like What is Nirvana?

Photo: Ferne Millen

If you’ve seen the Dalai Lama live, or even online, you can tell right away he’s “real.”

By real I mean he offers no reason to treat him any different than “a simple monk” as he’s fond of saying. His tradition is Buddhism, but his religion is “kindness.”

You’d think his message of universal peace would be enough to warrant his popularity. Yet as Stephen Schettini writes in The Metropolitain, perhaps the real reason for the Dalai Lama’s superstar status is actually: Buddhism.

Visitors to Asia may perceive Buddhism as old-time religion, complete with invisible beings, superstition and intolerance, but scratch beneath the gaudy veneer and you find a thoughtful, healing and wholesome system of thought and daily practice.

In an age when religious faith is on the decline and people are having trouble swallowing its hollow residue, Buddhism offers a spiritual path that’s compatible with scientific enquiry, and perhaps even with twenty-first century realpolitik.

I’m reminded of a recent scene from the awful “Angels and Demons” film – when Ewan McGregor’s priest character is pontificating to the other church clergy about how “science and religion don’t have to fight! They can work together!” However clumsily, the message is meant to answer the age-old dilemma that is suffered by the Abrahamic religions: how to maintain “blind” faith in the age of Reason.

Buddhism, at least in the form popularly adopted by the West, doesn’t have this dilemma. There is no schism between science and religion – and this is key to understanding Buddhism’s popularity. As Stephen Schettini points out:

The Dalai Lama noted three crucial parallels between the Buddhism and modern science. They 1) share a deep suspicion of any notion of absolutes, 2) believe in universal natural laws of cause and effect and 3) depend on an empirical method. You can go a long way on those three premises.

Add to this the Dalai Lama’s brand of inner peace and simple wisdom, and it’s likely he’ll be in the spotlight for some time to come.

As one blogger says “He’s a religious guy who doesn’t support killing or hating people for God. It’s a big improvement.”

Illustration: alicepopkorn

I’ve been meditating regularly for about ten years now. I have to say, I’m much more relaxed than I used to be. I don’t worry as much, and I’ve become more patient.

I’m also more aware of how my mind works. I see patterns in the way I think and approach things. This makes me more aware of faults that I previously hadn’t noticed. I’ve also become more comfortable with who I am.

There are many different meditation techniques. The goals are generally the same; however, the methods for reaching that goal vary widely.

Meditation is a way to change your attitude towards life. As you practice, you gradually become more relaxed and feel more connected to other people around you. But even though it sounds easy, it’s harder than it seems.

How it works

In the type of meditation I practice, Vipassana, the basic idea is to teach you to accept things the way they are. When you meditate, you actually practice accepting reality, and like anything, the more you practice the better you get. Gradually you become more able to accept the things you cannot control while working to change the things you can.

When you meditate, you try to do two things.

First, you try to pay attention to the breath going in and out of your nose without controlling it. You just watch it. When you notice that your mind has wandered and you are thinking about something else, you bring your attention back to your breath.

The second thing that you try to do is to accept how you are doing. If you can barely pay attention at all, you just try to accept it without getting annoyed. This is contrary to the way we’ve thought our whole lives. When you try to do something, if you do it well, you are happy. If you do it badly, you become unhappy.

While you are meditating, you may accept how you are doing for a while, but inevitably something will come up in your mind that you don’t accept. You may become bored, or tired, or uncomfortable, or you will want to feel differently than you do.

You just have to try to accept these feelings. Of course you won’t be able to do this. But by practicing regularly, you gradually improve your ability to accept whatever you experience.

Practicing Acceptance

Being able to accept things for what they are effects many different aspects of your life. You become more accepting of people not acting how they’re “supposed to” act.

Photo: roshnill

These are the main causes of anger in life — you become less angry in circumstances that tend to make you angry and gradually anger begins to wash out of you. Instead of allowing the emotion to boil up inside, you say to yourself, “Whatever happens, happens. I’ll deal with it.”

This helps remove the fear of the unknown which tends to keep people from having a full life because they’re afraid of uncertainty. In the same way, meditation helps diminish people’s fear of change. As you become less fearful of the unknown, you become less fearful of the future being different from how you want.

And when you aren’t afraid of the future, you can enjoy the present more fully.

How to Practice

After a meal, you tend to be more tired and less alert. That’s why I’ve found it’s better to meditate on an empty stomach. You can sit with your legs crossed, but it’s not necessary. If you do, you should sit on an incline or put a pillow under your butt. This will help keep your back straight.

A comfortable position is crucial. You shouldn’t lie down because you’re a lot more likely to fall asleep. I meditate with my eyes closed to reduce distractions, but there are people who meditate with their eyes open. There are different schools of thought on this. Both work, so just pick whichever one feels right.

Try to pay attention to the breath going in and out of your nose. If your breath is deep, that’s fine. If it’s shallow, that’s fine. If it’s relaxed, that’s fine. If it’s not, that’s fine.

Your job is not to judge or control, simply to observe. If you can feel the breath touching the inside of your nostrils, then you should feel it. If you can’t feel anything, just notice when it is entering your nose and when it is leaving. It doesn’t matter how well you can pay attention, only that you keep trying to pay attention.

Your mind will wander, and it’s shocking how quickly it will wander, often after less than one breath. When you notice this, bring your thoughts back to your breath. When it wanders again, bring it back again.

The goal is to work without caring how it goes. However, you will find that you do care how it is going. As you practice, you will improve and you will become more accepting of how you are doing.

After years of practice, my mind often wanders as much as it did when I started. The big change is that I am much more able to accept this fact. THIS IS THE ONLY MEASURE OF PROGRESS.

Dealing with Frustration

There are many different ways you may not like how your meditation is going. You might get frustrated at your awful concentration; you might get bored; you might feel angry, sad, upset or annoyed; you might want the meditation to relax you and get frustrated that this isn’t happening, or countless other things.

But you have to realize that this is how meditation works. It’s supposed to bring up these feelings so you can learn to accept them. When you work out, you use weights that are difficult to lift because that is what makes you stronger.

It’s the same way with meditation. It’s designed to be difficult.

Sometimes when you are meditating, you can have strange experiences. You might experience emotions for no apparent reasons. You might see lights, or your body may feel like it’s a single point. You might have visions pop into your head.

There are countless different things that can happen, and they all make it harder to pay attention to your breath. If they do happen, you should treat them like every other distraction and try to pay attention to your breath as well as you can, regardless of the distraction.

As well, the way you are meditating can change from minute to minute and from day to day. It can be frustrating to have what you consider an acceptable meditation one day and one that you are unhappy with the next. Try to accept that this is just how it works. If you cannot accept this and are still frustrated, try to accept that your mind is frustrated.

Practice Regularly

It is important to keep a regular practice. I would suggest starting at no less than fifteen minutes and gradually increase the time as you progress.

Photo: el photopakismo

As time goes on, you will develop a more relaxed form of concentration. This may seem paradoxical because we normally associate strong concentration with a tense, furrowed brow.

Meditation changes the way you view the world, so many of the analogies people use to describe it can at first seem contradictory. As you begin to practice, these examples begin to make more sense.

Let’s say you are in a situation that makes you upset or angry. Try to accept the situation. Just by trying to accept it, you are practicing accepting things, which gradually improves this ability.

If you are too agitated to accept the situation, notice the effect that the situation is having on your body. In the same way that fear creates a sensation in your stomach, all strong negative emotions create noticeable sensations in your body. Observe how the anger or frustration affects you physically and try to accept the physical feeling.

This is something more concrete to work with than the abstract emotion. In addition to helping improve your ability to accept things, you begin to use negative experiences to recognize the positive side to them. They begin to have purpose in your life, just as much as joyful events.

Meditation and Faith

It should be evident that you don’t need to follow any religion or believe in God to get the benefits of meditation. However, every major religion incorporates some form of meditation. I think this is because meditation can help deepen you faith.

The reason many people are atheists is that they look at all the awful things in the world and cannot see how there could possibly be a God who cares about people. However, people who have a faith tend to say that everything happens for a reason that we cannot always understand God’s plan.

There are different levels of faith. When something awful happens, like the death of a loved one, a person of faith is able to cope because they feel like it is part of God’s plan, or at least derive a reason from the loss. However, someone without faith can be easily upset by minor setbacks because they cannot accept that every event can be learned from.

As you use negative events in your life to develop your ability to accept things, you begin to find a purpose in them. This makes you feel more like negative events are just as important as positive events. As you progress in meditation, your faith will deepen. You will also begin to understand how religion is connected to meditation.

There’s an old saying, “Prayer is like talking to God, and meditation is like listening to God.”

Many meditation schools teach that if you want meditation to have an effect on your life, it is important to live in a moral way. One of the main reasons has to do with the attitude you cultivate through meditation. It helps you feel more connected to people.

When you act selfishly and screw people over, you act as if you are only accountable to yourself. When you act selflessly, you are working to develop an attitude of awareness and compassion, enhancing the attitude that meditation develops.

Free meditation courses

One great way to progress in your meditation and delve deeper into your mind is to attend a free ten-day course given in over 20 different countries at a Vipassana Meditation Center.

They put you up for ten days and feed you for free. They operate only on donations given by people who’ve taken a course, but they don’t pressure you to donate. The catch is that it’s incredibly hard work. Their students meditate for ten hours a day (not in a row) for ten days straight.

When I first heard of the course, I thought there was no way in hell I could meditate for ten hours a day — I could barely sit for 30 minutes. But after talking with some people who had taken the course, they explained the hardest part was deciding to do it.

I gave it a shot. It surprised me when I learned that that 90% of the students finish the course and many are experiencing meditation for the first time. But I made it through, and I highly recommend the course for anyone willing to challenge themselves.

For a list of centers and course dates, visit www.dhamma.org

Community Connection

Waiting around for the best time to meditate? Think again. Read Why You’ll Never Find the Perfect Time To Meditate. And check out 20 Basic, Fun, Sexy Resources For Beginning Meditators.

Eisa was traditionally performed to welcome the spirits of ancestors during the three day Obon holiday. Today, it may be seen year-round at any festival, sporting event, school assembly or even at a Christmas party.

The word “Eisa” comes from a chant used by Buddhist priests during prayers for deceased. It is now shouted by the leader of an Eisa group to get the dancing started and throughout the performance. The rest of the members respond “Hai ii ya”, “Ei sa sa” or “Sui sa sa”.

Brightly colored uniforms and turbans decorate the drum-beating, high-stepping men. Young girls dressed in summer kimonos and scarves play smaller drums or dance waving their hands gracefully in the air.

In every group a few odd characters stand out from the crowd. Dressed in banana fiber cloth or something outrageously different from their peers, they wander among the other dancers at their own pace. They are called “Chondara” or “Gajan gani” and their antics could make a stone-faced Buddha smile!

At indoors Eisa events music is usually played over the building’s PA system. Outdoors, pickup trucks covered with straw roofs may contain a live, stringed band as well as an amplifier blasting folk music.

There’s one more thing the performance includes: whistling. Words can’t describe the distinct, shrill “Okinawan Whistle.” A flock of whippoorwills on steroids might come close, but can never match the sound of whistling Eisa dancers.

1.Eisa at night, on the streets during Obon.

2.A drummer chants “Hai ii ya”.

3.A young woman wears a traditional summer kimono while dancing.

4.A close-up shot of a character.

5.Here, Eisa is being performed on a school soccer field.

6.Children dance at a school event.

7.Students and teachers dance at a Golden Week ceremony.

8.High-stepping drummers dancing at a festival.

9.These drummers leap in the air as they dance.

10.Eisa being performed the night before a championship bullfight.

11.A Chondara wearing striped banana fiber clothing wanders through the scene.

12.A banner displaying the village district accompanies the Eisa group.

13.A Gajan gani, wearing a flowered robe and straw hat does his thing.

14.Words can’t describe the “Okinawan Whistle”.

Further information about Okinawa Eisa.

Community Connection

Check out another festival in Baranquilla, Colombia. And don’t miss Mike’s Shinugu Matsuri: The Festival That Could Change the World.

Here’s a previously unlikely combination of two of my favorite things, that I’m sure will come together more often in the age of organic açaí-infused energy drinks and late-night yoga jams:

Buddhism and Gangsta Rap. Hells, yeah.

What can the Buddhists say? Recruitment has hit the skids along with the economy. Can always use a llama-turned-woman-in-a-bikini to get the troops motivated.

Go total consciousness Lama Boy.

Community Connection

Buddhists aren’t the only ones who can rap. Southwest Airlines is still keeping it real as Julie Schwietert notes in Southwest Airlines: Still Cool After All These Years. And it’s not just about rap when it comes to Buddhism; alcohol may also be involved, as Ian MacKenzie ponders in Buddha Booze: The Practice Of Mindful Drinking.

Feature photo: utpala ॐ.

Cambodian child / Photo: subliminati

This morning, I was making tea, and I read the name on the tea canister—the Thai company Phuc Long—and I didn’t even smirk, didn’t even think about making a joke about it.

And that’s one indication that perhaps I have been living here too long.

Here’s another:

Yesterday, I was walking down the street, and the guy with no arms who sells books out of a box hanging around his neck asked me for some money. I wasn’t carrying my moto helmet under my arm (as I usually do, marking me as an expat rather than a tourist), and he didn’t recognize me at first.

And then he remembered me from around town, and gave a sort of shrug and a not unfriendly smile, as if to say, “Sorry! You’re a regular here. Of course you’re not going to give me anything.”

And then we both sort of chuckled and walked past each other, and it wasn’t until I was about half a block away that I got a sickening chill at my own indifference.

Tea and Indifference

Has living in Cambodia made me less capable of sympathy? Even after close to a year here, it’s hard to know the “right” way to behave in the face of other people’s poverty and trauma. Feel it too much and you’ll be incapacitated; feel it too little and you’ll be some sort of Marie Antoinette (”Let them drink Angkor Beer if they have no potable drinking water!”)

Photo: Jason Leahey

To feel as if you belong here at all, you have to become a little inured to the realities of landmine victims and grubby children, and to act otherwise is to be viewed as a sap by both Khmer and expats.

Once, I went into the local Mexican restaurant and two expat women were sitting with a little Khmer boy for whom they had purchased dinner.

They seemed a little sheepish though, because after they had ordered, they noticed that, unlike most of the kids hanging around Pub Street at night, this guy had new tennis shoes, went to a government school reserved for the solidly middle class, and had a mother who was keeping an eye on him while chatting with her friends across the street.

Of course, there are far worse things than buying a child, any child, a Coke and a quesadilla, but they felt as if they’d been duped, giving help to someone who might not need it the most. It was such a tourist thing to do.

And we roll our eyes at tourists, the people who swoop in for a week or two and throw money at the first problem they see, regardless of whether it will do any lasting good. Then again, at least they’re doing something.

Judging The Other

What am I doing? Has anyone in Cambodia benefited from my writing so far?

And if I’m sometimes less sympathetic than I should be toward Khmer, you should hear my internal monologue about Westerners and their problems. Woe to the person whom I overhear complaining about heat, insects, potential bacteria in the water or uncomfortable bus seats; they will be silently excoriated by me.

Firstly, haven’t they ever opened a guidebook about any Southeast Asian country?

And there’s another level to my reaction, the part of me that has always considered myself sort of a wimp. “If I can handle this,” this part of myself says disdainfully, “then you must be the lowliest of pansies.”

What’s worse, I actually like this tougher side of myself sometimes. It makes me feel hearty and resilient and less likely to feel sorry for myself. It’s not as if I’ve forgotten about the fact that, should I fall into penury tomorrow and die a slow death of starvation, that I still will have lived a more comfortable life than 99% of Cambodian citizens.

But sometimes it is an asset to be able to witness the misfortunes of others and, instead of feeling crushing depression at the state of the world, feel sort of…well, lucky. And yet…

Cultivating Non-attachment

I was talking to my monk friend Savuth about how, in the Buddhist view of things, human love is a kind of suffering, just like hate is. It is hard, having been raised amidst Western ideas, to wrap my head around this.

Photo: Ian MacKenzie

To a Westerner, the Buddhist ideal of “detachment” sounds suspiciously like indifference. But I think what Savuth was speaking about was achieving a philosophical equanimity—you should feel sympathy and pity for wealthy crooks and beggar children alike, because they are both suffering as part of the human condition.

My friend Elizabeth long ago told me something similar in a different way—”Just because root canals exist, doesn’t mean that getting a papercut isn’t painful.”

But isn’t that just like me, to look at a problem cerebrally instead of dealing with the sticky business of how to feel?

The last time I was in New York, I found myself telling a friend about the Big-Headed Baby, the monstrously deformed infant whose mother takes him to all large festivals, where she begs for money, a container for change placed on the corner of his dirty blanket.

Who wouldn’t feel sympathy for the child? But I have a hard time feeling pity for the mother, when she must be aware of the glut of nonprofit organizations in Cambodia who could possibly help her child—it is simply more immediately profitable to parade him around like a circus act.

Even so, my friend looked a little taken aback by my callousness. And maybe he should have been. I cannot conflate my own attitude with Savuth’s universal sympathy—nothing proves this more than my very disparate feelings toward the Big-Headed Baby and his mother.

So where does this leave me? Vainly hoping that I can force myself to feel for both the root canal patient and the papercut victim? Cambodia never provides any easy answers; it only makes it harder to ignore the questions.

Perhaps that means that I have not lived here long enough.

What are your thoughts on compassion versus detachment? Share your thoughts in the comments!

I admit, I’ve had a few daydreams about visiting the mythical Bhutan. After watching this excellent short film from Current on their recent move from monarchy to democracy, it remains just as tempting a destination.

In a country like Burma, under the grip of a tyrannical junta, it’s easy to see why democracy is desirable. But for Bhutan, they see their strife ridden neighbours Nepal and India, and are fearful their “gross national happiness” will be the first thing to go.

The older Bhutanese blame their new ills on television and westernization… unavoidable products of democracy.

What do you think about the tradeoff? For a country like Bhutan, is it better to accept democracy, and self-determination, even if it’s deeply flawed?

Feature photo: Marina & Enrique

Photo: Evil Erin

At first I thought this would be an easy topic. Five things that bring me happiness. Simple. But then I started to actually think about it. What makes me happy might not make you happy (and vice versa).

So I asked around the Matador team for what they thought brings them happiness, hoping for at least a couple of unanimous points. The responses were as random and varied as lottery results.

The more common replies were related to friends, family and health. While all of these do bring most people happiness, my concern was with those who preferred being alone and people in poor health.

If I included these things, what does this mean for them? Is it impossible for the loners and the sick to be happy? I don’t think so.

Borrowing a page from Buddhist philosophy

Buddhists recognize that happiness — unfailing happiness — can only be found internally. The goal is to stop trying to change the world around us to bring happiness, but to change our minds.

Anything external that we chase cannot bring everlasting happiness, only temporary and fleeting happiness; at some point it will let us down.

Many things that we think will bring us happiness — a new car, new house, more friends — usually just cause us more pain and suffering. We’re constantly worried someone’s going to scratch or bump our vehicle, rob our home, or break our hearts and hurt our feelings. A source of true happiness would not be able to cause us any suffering.

To find happiness is a lofty goal and takes a dedication that most of us aren’t willing to give, even though it’s in our own best interests. Instead, we continue to try to shape the world outside us, rather than trying to fix the inside.

Here are five points to ponder as you search for your own happiness:

1. Introspection

Facing your demons…being a victim. ‘Everything is always fucked up for me, nobody understands’. It took me years of not being honest with myself, running from the truth, denying what was in my face, blaming everybody else. ‘She’s nasty, she’s fucked up…look at her, look at them’…but then there was a common denominator: Me. – Liza Jessie Peterson

If we can’t face ourselves and recognize that we are the source of our own happiness, what chance do we have? Happiness is not “out there.” It’s in here. Easy to say, hard to put into practice.

But the first step to solving a problem is to recognize the source of it. Once we admit to ourselves that we — and only we — are responsible for our own happiness, then we can move forward in trying to attain it.

2. Freedom

I do think people could fall into the trap of understanding freedom as ‘I do what I like’. I don’t really think that’s freedom because you’re still bound by your desires. So where is the freedom? Freedom would be…you understand your desires, the compulsion of those desires, the addiction of that, and you are able to transcend that. Otherwise…your passion is determining your behaviour. – Father Lancy Prabhu

Photo: Capture Queen

Freedom as we know it in the Westernized world is not true freedom. And this “freedom” will not bring us happiness. One need look no further than free-market capitalism. Go on, you’re free to do whatever you want.

Combine this with our society’s way of making us feel inadequate and marketing manipulation by the media (who, ironically, are exercising their freedom), and we find ourselves always wanting. This wanting and the attachment to things we’ve managed to accumulate are the banes to our happiness. We must free ourselves from our own desires to find true happiness.

Freedom and restraint are two sides of one thing. How can there be freedom without restraint? It’s impossible. – Prof Xu Yuangzhong

3. Compassion

Why are we compassionate towards friends and family, but rarely towards strangers? It’s because we share a connection with our family and friends, either through blood or through similar interests.

What if we could find a connection with complete strangers? With the rest of humanity? Might it make us more compassionate towards everybody? Because we do share something common: everybody — no exceptions — wants to be happy.

This desire to be happy is the motivating force behind every single thing that we do, from the moment we wake up to the time we fall asleep. So recognizing that the people we see on TV, the people we pass on the street, the people we’ve never seen and never will see — want to be happy. Just like us.

Compassion gained through accepting this will make us better humans, will help us help each other, and will help to make ourselves happy.

4. Generosity

The mind has a very bad habit, which we call self-cherishing. And I call it ‘What about me?’…it’s a bore. And it’s a drag. And nobody wants to hear it. So you can just shut up…and get off of it. And give. That’s all. GIVE. Be here and give. Connect with people…and you’re so busy giving, you don’t have time to think about yourself…um, you’re gonna be a lot happier. – Baghavan Das

This is closely linked to compassion. After gaining compassion comes our willingness to help out others, even complete strangers.

Photo: pattista

5. Contentment

If you substitute ‘content’ for ‘happy’ you’ll probably find that you’re happy. ‘Cause we’ve associated happiness with laughing and smiling…throwing beach balls to your children…and I’ve never been that guy.

So I’ve thought maybe I’m not happy. If you switch it for content…the practice of contentment…’oh god I’m happy. I’m a happy man. Oh, look at me! – Billy Connolly

I would venture to guess that all of us, anyone right now who is reading this article, has everything they need to be happy. So why does continued happiness seem so elusive?

In general, we may say we’re happy. We might even have those moments where we sit back and realize how privileged we are, count our lucky stars, and genuinely feel like we have the world in our palms.

But how long does this last? How long until the next person pisses us off, until we see the next thing we “need,” until the next feelings of anxiousness steal away our happiness? If we can make the wanting stop and be content with what we have, we would find we can be more consistently happy.

Do you think these are the keys to happiness, or are there other important points we missed? Share your thoughts below.

*All quotes used are from 1 Giant Leap’s documentary What About Me?.

Like any historical figure, the Buddha’s life as become a combination of fact and legend. But more importantly, his enlightenment and teachings are just as relevant today as they were when he first discovering them 2500 years ago.

These teachings are summarized in the Four Noble Truths:

1. Life means suffering.
2. The origin of suffering is attachment.
3. The cessation of suffering is attainable.
4. There is a path to end suffering.

Near the end of the film, one of the speakers reveals what I found a most intriguing comment: “It is a great irony that the person who shunned all forms of ritual and personality worship, has became the ultimate figure of personality worship.”

What do you think the Buddha would say to those who treat him as a God?

(Feature image: h.koppdelaney Hattip video: Spiritual Mind)

Dive Deeper

Check out a 13 part series Discovering Buddhism, The Traveler’s Guide to Enlightenment, and The Traveler’s Guide To Karma. Finally, gain some wisdom with The 10 Very Best Zen Stories For Travelers.

Buddhism remains exotic for some, misunderstood by many. But the truth of the ideas discovered by the first Buddha 2500 years ago remain unmatched in their power to transform.

My own introduction to Buddhism came in the form of rubbing a pocket-sized Buddha’s belly before our high school basketball game. But since then, it took a chance encounter with a book to introduce me to the dhamma (teachings).

Recently, while browsing for SNL’s Motherlover educational video clips, I came across an entire series offering an excellent primer on Buddhism. And best of all… the online version is free.

Watch the entire 13 part series here.

Have you found any other great Buddhism resources online? Share in the comments!

Feature photo: natashalatrasha

Photo: Kevin Hutchinson / Feature dude: kandyjaxx

A few years ago, I enrolled in what is called a practice period at the San Francisco Zen Center.

A practice period is defined as a period of time in which one commits to 6-9 weeks of daily morning and evening meditation and Wednesday night Sangha talks.

While I highly recommend enrolling in a practice period, a beginner should know the basic rules of a Zen Center before their first day.

I did not do my homework, and as a result, I always seemed to be getting reprimanded for something. I was like Maria in The Sound of Music, running late for service after experiencing pleasure.

For any soon-to-be Zen students, I’ve shared my words of advice below. Hopefully you can avoid hearing the monks break out into song upon your tardy arrival.

1. DON’T stay up late.

SF Zen Center / Photo: Kevin Hutchinson

A practice period student must meditate every morning from 5:40-6:20 and then again in the evening. I was working late nights doing sound for bands where the shows didn’t end until 3 or 4 in the morning.

With no time to shower, I’d stumble out of bed smelling like smoke and alcohol, and have to stay awake for 40 minutes sitting in lotus. In other words, try and go to bed by 9pm.

2. DON’T take the first cup of coffee.

I’d be the first at the coffee pot before meditation, replacing the pot with my mug so that I could get the first possible sips of coffee. “That’s bad Karma,” a monk told me one morning. “The first drops are the strongest and tastiest.”

3. DON’T read the New York Times before meditation.

“How can you have a clear mind if you read the news?” a monk asked me one morning when I was caught reading The New York Times before meditation.

4. DON’T wear strong colors.

The meditation master looked at me disapprovingly when I wore my pink t-shirt with a unicorn on it into the Zendo. I stood out like a newly formed zit among all the black robes.

5. DON’T bring your cell phone into the meditation room

Even if you turn it on vibrate. When the Zendo is dead silent and everbody is meditating, the vibration sounds like the rumble of a large earthquake.

1. DO sign up for a practice period at the last minute.

Monks’ shoes / Photo: magical-world

Apparently, because I was the last person to sign up for the practice period, I got the best room. The San Francisco Zen Center was overbooked, so they had no other choice but to give me Suzuki Roshi’s room, a renowned Buddhist scholar.

The room wasn’t as austere as the other rooms. It had its own bathroom with a bathtub, a kitchen with a refrigerator, and a balcony that looked over a beautiful courtyard.

It was nicer than my apartment.

2. DO hang out on roof of the Zen Center if you need a break or a cigarette.

Everything that is “let go” in the Zen Center thrives on the Zen Center roof (if it has one). Flowers and plants cover the roof’s walls, deck and tables, the excess growth from the Japanese flower arrangements assembled by the monks. Only one or two spartan arrangements make it downstairs, and the rest blooms on the roof in all their unruliness.

Monks that fall prey to their addictions and craving assemble on the roof – smoking monks, sunbathing monks and monks reading Self Matters by Dr. Phil.

3. DO notice your lover’s shoes so you can see if he’s sleeping around.

One big rule at the Zen Center is that you can’t wear shoes in your room – they must be left outside the door. Shoes are always shifting around depending upon who is sleeping with whom at the Zen Center.

In fact, a book was just published about promiscuity and the SF Zen Center called Shoes Outside the Door: Desire, Devotion, and Excess at San Francisco Zen Center.

4. DO eat the vegetarian food.

It’s delicious. Also, I lost ten pounds without even trying.

5. DO adhere to the meditation schedule.

It is amazing (and humbling) to watch many of the exact same thoughts repeat themselves day after day, without progression or variation. And the point of going to a Zen Center in the first place is to meditate, right?

Have you visited a Zen Center? Share your tips in the comments!

Community Connection

Need some more Zen? Check out 10 Best Zen Stories For Travelers or 7 Zen Productivity Tips For Travelers.

Photo: One Man’s Perspective

We all need a little help reframing a situation once in a while.

Coming across Jonathan Mead’s article Seven Productivity Tips For People That Hate GTD (Getting Things Done) over at ZenHabits.net did this for me on a day where it felt like nothing I started was getting done.

His reminders include “Define Your Daily Ass-Kicking” – as in having a larger vision or goal that you are working toward and defining your reason for having this goal.

Also, he notes, “Allow Yourself To Suck,” which I always think is a good thing, ’cause man, does it take the pressure off and actually allow you to create.

I started to ponder how these great tips could be geared toward traveling. If they work in our work life, can’t they work in our travel life? Plus, as most of you know, traveling can sometimes become like a job anyway.

Here’s what I came up with based of off Mead’s seven tips:

1. Create a “to stop” list.

Mead says:

If you’re not getting the results you want, chances are you don’t care much about the things you’re doing. The best way to change this is to create a “To-Stop” list.

How many times have we set our agenda in stone either before we’ve even boarded the plane, or scour the Lonely Planet in our tent the night before a big day out, so that we will cover all the “important” spots during our trip?

Don’t get me wrong, planning is a great thing in order to have a point of reference in an unknown area, but if you aren’t enjoying those “must-see” places, cut out. It’s not worth wasting your time, money, or energy.

Piazzale Michelangelo/Photo: Eugenia_y_Julian

2. Focus on short bursts.

You’ve only got a weekend to spend in Florence.

You want to be able to visit the Duomo, the Uffizi, Accademia, Ponte Vecchio, Bobili Gardens, get at least 6 servings of stratiacella gelato and 4 pieces of tiramusa, buy a leather coat, drink at a hidden-away bar until 2am and then head to the club, and take a day trip to San Gimignano.

Guess what? NOT GONNA HAPPEN.

Plus, would you have any fun if you did all of that? Give your full attention to the museum that you are currently bustling through to make it to the next museum, and then give your full attention to a bottle of Chianti, looking at the city from above at Piazzale Michelangelo.

3. Define your daily “ass-kicking.”

What is the overall purpose of your travel escapades? To have fun? To learn about a new culture/s? To get the hell away from your family or friends, or as was the case during the Bush presidency, your government?

Whatever your personal purpose is for exploring unknown territory, remind yourself of it every day. It’ll get you through hassling with border officials, peeing on the floor of the woman’s bathroom next to the prostitutes, and being stuck for a week in Tasmania with the meanest Aussie tour guide EVER.

Photo:littledan77

4. Allow yourself to suck.

Yes, my favorite recommendation.

Each of us sucks sometimes. Everyone we travel with sucks sometimes.

This tip can be used two-fold: allow yourself to suck in the way that you to try every single thing you are moderately inclined, but deathly afraid, to do, even if you think you might fail miserably at it, and allow yourself to suck occasionally as a friend, mate, or travel companion.

You will anyway, so why fight it? It’ll only last longer that way.

5. Focus on the three C’s.

Mead’s three C’s are Create, Connect, and Consume. The key is to balance these three actions, and what better time than when we are traveling?

We have to create a way to get where we want to go, connect with the people of the place once we get there, and consume/purchase local foods and goods.

Consciously choosing where your money goes (will it benefit the people directly or a corporate/government entity?) from start to finish of a trip can help with this balancing act.

6. Stop caring about things that don’t matter.

That annoying habit of your travel buddy where he makes you ask all the questions no matter what country you are in, but then laughs at you when the locals don’t understand? Waiting for three hours in the bed of a pickup truck while six locals stare at a tire and debate the easiest way to fix the hole that was just “fixed” 10 km ago?

Not worth the energy of irritation.

And if it is, say something kindly to the person so you can get it off your chest and move on.

7. Make it stupidly simple.

Mead states, “If you’re struggling to make headway on the stuff you really care about, maybe you’re making it too complicated.” If you are struggling to get somewhere faster, get a better deal, not get taken advantage of, maybe you are making it too complicated.

Sit back, look at the situation from a different perspective, and then move forward.

Don’t miss: 5 Steps To Save Money Like The Buddha

What are some other tips on how to be a good traveler through a Zen approach? Share your thoughts below.

Photo h.koppdelaney

Truth has nothing to do with words. So say the various Zen masters throughout the ages.

Words, in this case, can be likened to a finger pointing at the moon. The finger can point to the moon’s location, but to truly look at the moon, it is necessary to look past the finger.

Similarly, these Zen stories are not truth themselves – they merely aim to illustrate various elements of truth.

“Think of these tales as conversation pieces,” writes John Suler, “as handy tools that you can lift out of your pocket to help you and others talk, think, and laugh about the wondrous and mysterious details of this thing we call Life.”

I chose the following from the brilliant collection 101 Zen Stories, based on the merit they present to travelers of all ages, religions, and nationalities. I follow each with a short commentary on how I interpreted them.

Enjoy! And don’t forget to share your own thoughts at the end of the post.

1. A Cup Of Tea

Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.

Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring. The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself. “It is overfull. No more will go in!”

“Like this cup,” Nan-in said, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

The best travelers head out with no preconceptions about the cultures they will visit and the people they will meet. They remember to pack the most important thing: an open mind.

2. Muddy Road

Tanzan and Ekido were once travelling together down a muddy road. A heavy rain was still falling. Coming around a bend, they met a lovely girl in a silk kimono and sash, unable to cross the intersection.

“Come on, girl,” said Tanzan at once. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over the mud.

Ekido did not speak again until that night when they reached a lodging temple. Then he no longer could restrain himself. “We monks can’t be near females,” he told Tanzan, “especially not young and lovely ones. It is dangerous. Why did you do that?”

“I left the girl there,” said Tanzan. “Are you still carrying her?”

Sometimes the right decision means not following the rules. The important thing is to act, then let it go and move on.

3. The Moon Cannot Be Stolen

Ryokan, a Zen master, lived the simplest kind of life in a little hut at the foot of a mountain. One evening a thief visited the hut only to discover there was nothing in it to steal.

Ryokan returned and caught him. “You may have come a long way to visit me,” he told the prowler, “and you shoud not return emptyhanded. Please take my clothes as a gift.”

The thief was bewildered. He took the clothes and slunk away.

Ryokan sat naked, watching the moon. “Poor fellow, ” he mused, “I wish I could give him this beautiful moon.”

On the road, don’t be too paranoid about losing your stuff. Material possessions are useful, but pale in comparison to the true riches of a journey.

4. Your Light May Go Out

A student of Tendai, a philosophical school of Buddhism, came to the Zen abode of Gasan as a pupil. When he was departing a few years later, Gasan warned him: “Studying the truth speculatively is useful as a way of collecting preaching material. But remember that unless you meditate constantly you light of truth may go out.”

While traveling, it can be tempting to focus only what’s in your guidebook and on the web. This speculative studying is helpful, but no substitute for using your own awareness as a guide.

5. The Gates of Paradise

A soldier named Nobushige came to Hakuin, and asked: “Is there really a paradise and a hell?”

“Who are you?” inquired Hakuin. “I am a samurai,” the warrior replied.

“You, a soldier!” exclaimed Hakuin. “What kind of ruler would have you as his guard? Your face looks like that of a beggar.” Nobushige became so angry that he began to draw his sword, but Hakuin continued: “So you have a sword! Your weapon is probably much too dull to cut off my head.”

As Nobushige drew his sword Hakuin remarked: “Here open the gates of hell!” At these words the samurai, perceiving the master’s discipline, sheathed his sword and bowed.

“Here open the gates of paradise,” said Hakuin.

The difference between heaven and hell is often a matter of perspective. How will you choose to perceive the experiences of your journey?

6. Killing

Gasan instructed his adherents one day: “Those who speak against killing and who desire to spare the lives of all conscious beings are right. It is good to protect even animals and insects.

But what about those persons who kill time, what about those who are destroying wealth, and those who destroy political economy? We should not overlook them. Furthermore, what of the one who preaches without enlightenment? He is killing Buddhism.”

Be wary of travel companions who speak one way and act another. They can inadvertently kill a trip faster than you think. Learn how to execute your escape.

7. Inch Time Foot Gem

A lord asked Takuan, a Zen teacher, to suggest how he might pass the time. He felt his days very long attending his office and sitting stiffly to receive the homage of others.

Takuan wrote eight Chinese characters and gave them to the man:

Not twice this day
Inch time foot gem.
This day will not come again.
Each minute is worth a priceless gem.

No matter how uncomfortable the bus ride, how horrendous the airline food, or how saggy the bed, remember: this moment will not come again.

8. Learning to Be Silent

The pupils of the Tendai school used to study meditation before Zen entered Japan. Four of them who were intimate friends promised one another to observe seven days of silence.

On the first day all were silent. Their meditation had begun auspiciously, but when night came and the oil lamps were growing dim one of the pupils could not help exclaiming to a servant: “Fix those lamps.”

The second pupils was surprised to hear the first one talk. “We are not supposed to say a word,” he remarked. “You two are stupid. Why did you talk?” asked the third.

“I am the only one who has not talked,” concluded the fourth pupil.

Never be too quick to judge others. Chances are, you’re not the perfect traveler yourself.

9. The Stone Mind

Hogen, a Chinese Zen teacher, lived alone in a small temple in the country. One day four traveling monks appeared and asked if they might make a fire in his yard to warm themselves.

While they were building the fire, Hogen heard them arguing about subjectivity and objectivity. He joined them and said: “There is a big stone. Do you consider it to be inside or outside your mind?”

One of the monks replied: “From the Buddhist viewpoint everything is an objectification of mind, so I would say that the stone is inside my mind.”

“Your head must feel very heavy,” observed Hogen, “if you are carrying around a stone like that in your mind.”

With everyone jumping on the law of attraction bandwagon (The Secret anyone?) it’s easy to believe reality is an illusion, and that you’ve got it all figured out. Maybe…but don’t forget you’re still a human be-ing.

10. Time to Die

Ikkyu, the Zen master, was very clever even as a boy. His teacher had a precious teacup, a rare antique. Ikkyu happened to break this cup and was greatly perplexed. Hearing the footsteps of his teacher, he held the pieces of the cup behind him. When the master appeared, Ikkyu asked: “Why do people have to die?”

“This is natural,” explained the older man. “Everything has to die and has just so long to live.”

Ikkyu, producing the shattered cup, added: “It was time for your cup to die.”

Every trip, even the ones you want to last forever, must inevitably come to an end. That’s not tragic… that’s life. Don’t be afraid to accept when it’s time for your journey to die.

What do you think of these zen stories for travelers? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Also, be sure to check out Awakeblogger’s own 10 best zen story picks.

What does it take to make you stop, feel, listen? What brings you bliss?

This video is an example of how powerful it can be to simply slow down and feel the moment. After watching, it’ll be hard not to see that beauty that surrounds us, and the realization that we can find calm in many different places.

Feature photo Danielle Blue

Share your thoughts below.

Photo: Vinzoo

What would Buddha drink? It’s a question with an easy answer, at least according to Fifth Precept of a practicing Buddhist: Do not take intoxicants.

The precept does not cast alcohol as a sin. It stems more from the problems caused by a clouded mind. (Basically, you’re more likely to do something stupid when boozed).

Recently, Ted Rose of the Shambhala Mountain Center wrote a controversial article that believes it is possible to practice “mindful drinking.”

He writes:

Here’s the basic idea: Once a meditator has developed basic Buddhist discipline (known as Hinayana training) and adopted the intention to dedicate his or her life to benefit others (the Mahayana view) the practitioner is ready to incorporate Vajrayana teachings, where the simple prohibitions outlined in the Sutras are re-evaluated.

When a meditator reaches this point, which often takes a number years in the Shambhala tradition, a dangerous substance like alcohol is viewed as a potential aide for the practitioner.

Within the context of strong discipline and clear intention, alcohol holds the possibility of no longer acting as a conventional escape, but instead being a tool for loosening the subtle clinging of ego.

I can see the value of bending the rules. The key is to also apply the other Buddhist concept of the Middle Way.

When traveling, it’s tempting to fall into a pattern of binge drinking around the city every night, then sleeping it off in the hostel bunks. But that lifestyle leads to numerous problems: loss of money, health, and messy relationships that find you with a new conquest every evening.

The flipside is to practice mindful drinking. Be aware of how the alchohol affects your body and mind.

You’ll notice when your mood has been enhanced, and when you’re on the cusp of ending up with your shirt off, doing Jagerbombs on the bar, and wondering what happened to the last four hours.

For further drinking tips, check out The Gutsy Girl’s Guide To Drinking Alone, Tripping Out on the Road, and 5 Survival Tips for How To Travel Hungover.

What do you think – is mindful drinking an oxymoron? Share your thoughts in the comments!