My Practice

Over my years of Buddhist meditation practice, I have evolved the following (often changing) protocol, or practice regimen, which I would like to share.

In the early morning, I go up into our narrow unheated attic, which does triple duty as a guest bedroom, art studio for my wife (who is a serious painter with both acrylics and watercolor) and Buddhist meditation room, complete with a beautiful mahogany Buddha from Indonesia that we bought at Pike Place Market in Seattle, with a serene classical face and his hands in the Teaching Mudra.

There I kneel (since my aging hips have never tolerated anything cross-legged or faintly resembling a Lotus pose) on a little green three-legged stool I bought for this purpose, and, facing the Buddha and the rising sun through the south-facing window behind it, I first bow three times to the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha--the Three Jewels in Buddhist tradition. Then I usually take up my Native American Thunderbird rattle (which I received as a gift some years ago) which has the Sacred Circle (Solar Cross, symbolic of the Four Directions) painted in the traditional colors--red, white, yellow, and blue--on the bird's rawhide chest. I circle the rattle in a solar cross fashion, once clockwise, once counterclockwise, circle first, and then cross. This is just one example of a private ritual for creating a sacred space.

Then I'll normally pick up a book of Dharma readings--either Thich Nhat Hanh, or my favorite anthology, Earth Prayers, edited by Elizabeth Roberts and Elias Amidon, which I have come to think of as a kind of Gaian Book of Common Prayer. I will select a reading--either a Dharma Talk or a poem from this anthology, and read it, either quietly or aloud, to set the reflective mood. This practice helps to get my mind off of the day's distractions, and tune into my Oneness with Gaia.

Then I ring the meditation bell on a stool in front of me, and go into formal meditation, drawing my mala (a loop of 108 wooden beads) through my thumb and finger with each breath. (If I am in a rush, I do one bead with each in breath and another with the outbreath; otherwise, I'll do a whole breath with each bead). This helps to keep me from slipping into distraction. The Mala is simply a mechanical device for keeping myself focused on my breath.

Since distractions inevitably arise anyway, I often resort, during formal meditation, to various Mantras. I think of a mantra as a bone I'm throwing to my monkey mind, to keep it busy, and keep it from distracting my focus on my breath. My core mantra, which I most often revisit, is ten verb phrases:

Breathe, Observe, Let Go;
Be well, Do Good Work, Keep in Touch;
Learn (Gaia); Teach (Gaia); Heal (Gaia) Create (Gaia).

This mantra, which I made up, happily stealing the second line from Garrison Keillor, I have found to be very powerful and useful to keep available, whether in formal meditation or simply going through the day.

The first line, "Breathe, Observe, Let Go" is derived from the Buddha's final, and all-encompassing guided meditation in his Sutra on Breathing: "Breathing in, I observe letting go; Breathing out, I observe letting go." I feel that this mantra lies at the core of all meditation practice, for it immediately brings us back to the present moment, which is all there is. The rest is commentary.

The second line, from Garrison Keillor's daily signoff on his morning radio program Writer's Almanac, is the best generic daily agenda I know of.

Be well.

In his “five remembrances,” the Buddha taught his disciples to make friends with impermanence by acknowledging their own:

1. I am of the nature to get sick. There is no way I can avoid getting sick.
2. I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way I can avoid growing old.
3. I am of the nature to die. There is no way I can avoid death.
4. All that I cherish, I will lose. There is no way I can avoid losing everything I cherish.
5. My actions are my only possessions. There is no way I can escape the consequences of my actions.

Ironically, the Buddha knew that only by acknowledging our impermanence—our inevitable subjection to sickness, old age, and death—could we truly “be well” in body, mind and spirit. He saw, that is, that “being well” is rooted in mindfulness, in compassionate attentiveness to the present moment, which will inevitably lead us to eat and drink wisely and moderately, to take good care of our bodies, to avoid intoxicants and excess, and thus to live longer, happier lives before our inevitable sickness, old age, and death.

One can “be well” not only in body, however, but in mind and spirit as well. Even if our bodies are racked by disease, (as they all are, sooner or later), we can “be well” in our minds if we continue to breathe, observe, and let go—and we can “be well” in spirit if we can say “Thy will be done” and mean it; that is, in Buddhist terms, if we can accept the current circumstances, whatever they are, as the inevitable consequence of causes and conditions going back to the Big Bang, and let go of our attachment to the subjunctive—to wishing-things-were-other-than-they-are.

Do Good Work

This injunction, the essence of Right Effort and Right Livelihood, has two sides to it, which may be characterized by the Greek words Arête and Agapé—Doing Well, and Doing Good.

To do well means, in Thich Nhat Hanh’s words, to address any task mindfully—to “do it in order to do it, not in order to get it done.” This injunction can be applied to any task, no matter how simple or complex, and no matter how arduous. If you wash the dishes in full mindfulness, it can be like “washing the baby Buddha.” Likewise, even unpleasant but necessary tasks, like cleaning out a kitty box, can be turned into a sacrament if they are done with complete mindful attention. If on the other hand, we do things simply in order to get them done so we can do something else, we are living in the future, not in the present, and the present thus becomes that much more tedious, because we don’t want to be there. The Buddha—and Jesus likewise—understood that hell resides in the subjunctive—in wishing things were other than they are—for this is, in Christian terms, turning our backs on God’s will, and in Buddhist terms, causing Dukkha, or dissatisfaction with that that is and craving for what is not and cannot be.

Keep in Touch.

Whereas “Be Well” brings us back to our own bodies, minds, and spirits, and “Do Good Work” draws mindful attention to our ongoing daily tasks and long-term goals, the last injunction in Garrison Keillor’s beautiful mantra, “Keep in Touch,” refers us back to the indispensable cultivation of Bodhicitta, of genuine, practical, and immediate compassion for all beings, predicated on our recognition that the separate “self” which we spend so much time cultivating is in fact an illusion; that in reality, whether we can see it or not, we are one with everyone and everything we encounter: “That thou art.” Or as John Lennon put it, “I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.” This is the insight, of course, that lay behind Jesus’ core injunction to “love your neighbor as yourself.” Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.

If the first triad reclaims the moment (Breathe, Observe, Let Go) and the second (Be well, do good work, keep in touch) is a vow to reclaim the day, the third tetrad renews my life goals: Learn Gaia, Teach Gaia, Heal Gaia, Create Gaia.

Taken together, I find that reciting this tenfold Dharma Gaia mantra on the breath is a very powerful way to restore my equanimity, regardless of the circumstances. But like any other mantra, it is effective only if you actually focus on each word as a Dharma Window, practicing and contemplating it mindfully as you recite it. Any mantra that becomes rote repetition becomes worthless.

Once my meditation period is over (at the end of my 108 beads), I normally ring the bell, and bow once again to the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha.

This meditation protocol, I find, is both coherent and flexible; I will frequently experiment with other mantras and practices along the way, but they all fit in.

I would encourage anyone who reads this post to share your meditation practices as well; we can all learn from each other!