Oil Pastels and the Sangha

      I ended up not going to the Tibetan Buddhist temple.  I decided that I didn't want to have to start over -- meeting new people, getting used to a new type of spiritual practice and maybe getting involved too deeply with an organization.
      So, I decided to let things be.
      Instead, I signed up for an oil pastel class.  I had really liked oil pastels when I had used them, years ago, in high school.  It was drawing and painting at the same time, and I had made a portrait of a classmate that I remember vividly.  (Why didn't I save it? Did I give it to him?)  My boyfriend was supportive, too, so I thought I should go ahead with it.

Tom with my portait of him.

       I really enjoyed the class and the teacher.  I'm now geared up to produce some more artwork.  (The picture above was made with oil pastels and color pencils -- my first large work in many years.)
       Along with the class, something interesting happened.  My teacher, Carol, mentioned that she had attended a "sangha" (Buddhist group) in Long Beach, Washington.  "Really?" I said.  "Did you have many attendees?  I just can't imagine a Buddhist group in Long Beach, of all places!" I chuckled. "Yes, it was established by my husband and it's still going. We're starting a little sangha here."  I was all ears by then, believe me!   "A sangha here? "  "Would you like to come?," she asked.  Would I! 
        So I went to the little sangha and found that it was perfect, just what I wanted.  It's a small group, no bricks and mortar, no tithes, no massive organization.  We practice meditation and then discuss various Buddhist ideas.  I presented a talk on "right livelihood" myself a couple of weeks ago.   It's deep, Buddhism, and I have seen positive changes in myself, and a much more sustained meditation practice at home, since I have attended the group.  And since this is a Theraveda sangha, there is no frippery or pie-in-the-sky nonsense you have to plow through.  It's all about you polishing your soul.
         I can only thank all-seeing Providence for this! 
       

My Esthetic Profession

    I guess I have to confess something:  I went into esthetics because I really wanted to practice Reiki more fully!  Through my esthetic work I have introduced many people (mostly women) to Reiki. 
    But there have also been some unexpected and positive things that have happened to me while I have been in the "beauty business."  One is the number of good friends I have made while being an esthetician.  My teachers and co-workers (except for a few shallow, greedy and thoughtless types) have been great people.  I have become a mentor, in a way, to clients, not only in showing them how to take care of their skin but also in sharing whatever wisdom I've been able to garner over the course of my life.  (I must add that I try to do the latter with their approval!).  And I've benefited from the knowledge and experience of my clients  as well.
     The "beauty business" is like any other, but it's special because of its feminine character.  I like the casualness, the ability to make your own hours and to shape the business the way you want.  I design my own business cards and brochures and I'm the webmaster for our little salon's website.   That way I get to use my artistic skills and get positive reinforcement for it from my co-workers and clients.  And speaking of positive reinforcement: the atmosphere at our salon is very supportive and warm, which makes work a pleasure.
      I am grateful for my "second career" (to tell the truth, though, I never really had a "first career" at all!).  I had no idea that my life would be so enriched by choosing to be an esthetician. 

Book Recommendation

I just wanted to point out that book, "Inner Christianity" as an excellent resource for esoteric Christians and Gnostics.  I have read it many times.

Seeker Nation

Since I left my church I have been trying to figure out what might be next in my spiritual life. I think I might now be closer to finding something else that could work.
During the last two weeks I've been down with bronchitis, and so I've had to stay put at home.  A friend gives me magazines, some of which have to do with Eastern religious traditions.  Usually I just give away the Buddhist magazines, but because I had the spare time I decided to read them.  The magazines were "Tricycle" and "Shambala Sun."  It used to be that Buddhism didn't interest me at all.  I thought I needed "bhakti," a passionate surrender, to God.  Now that I'm older I don't seem to have that fire.  I'd rather do the work of becoming closer to God by myself, actually!   Buddhist tradition focuses on serious spiritual practice, something that was missing in my church.  I want to refine my soul, and Buddhism has some good tools for that, definitely!
Since I live in a suburb of Portland, Oregon, which is not known for being very advanced culturally (Portland wags have dubbed the area "Clarktucky"),  I wasn't surprised that there were no Buddhist centers here.  Next week I am going to go to a newcomer group at a Tibetan Buddhist center over in north Portland, not too far from me.  I am hopeful and excited about this new adventure.
Wish me luck as I explore the "Dharma."

The Chances of Gaining Enlightenment While You're Getting Older - BAD?

     When I was studying with Swamiji he said that to achieve enlightenment was only possible for a person who was younger than fifty.  I was rather affronted by this pronouncement.   "Does that mean that older people have no hope for enlightenment?  It seems wrong.  Surely an elderly person has a chance."
      Well, I have had to go back to Swamiji's statement in the years since I turned fifty and re-examine it carefully.  Human beings, in ancient days, did not live long;  our body is designed to work at its highest capacity until our forties.  Someone who lived beyond forty was extraordinarily healthy and lucky back then.  
       Now we live much longer lives than our forebears.   But, truth be told, when one hits fifty the process of decay truly begins.  The mind doesn't work as quickly, one's limbs don't obey as readily as they once did.  Little aches and pains come and go in various parts of the body, or sometimes they hang on and become chronic.  Fatigue sets in faster than in earlier times.  Sitting on a meditation pillow for a length of time can produce legs that fall asleep and sometimes cause the meditator to sleep too! 
     So, it seems that Swamiji was right after all.  An person older than forty has a hard time dealing with the rigors which spiritual practice demands. 
     Yet I still have my reservations about Swamiji's observation.  I think there are ways to come closer to God even with an aging, deteriorating body.
      Things that are done within, such as prayer and less strenuous forms of meditation, such as Lectio Divina  (I hope I spelled that right!) -- that is, when one reads a Bible verse or some other spiritual text and meditates on it --  are powerful tools.  Taking time away from people and the demands of life, i.e. practicing a real Sabbath, is an amazingly rewarding method of spiritual renewal.  A Sabbath should be without T.V., computer, chatting on the phone, spending money and various other daily distractions.  Focusing on spiritual reading, staying at home or taking a walk and meditating and praying during a Sabbath, and doing the Sabbath practice consistently, once a week, is very beneficial.  The Jews have it right -- if done seriously a Sabbath is a great method to get closer to the Creator of All Things.
       There is still hope for enlightenment at an advanced age.  The spiritual practices of the inner way, even though they may seem humble, are a good fit for those over fifty.
      

The Knight and the Horse

     How do I explain the inexplicable power that has forced me to turn away from my church?   It's happened to me before.  Years ago, I felt something like a palpable weight, almost as heavy as the atmosphere before a thunderstorm, when I walked around the church I was then attending.  There was no inner voice, no vision, just a power that succeeded in pushing me out of that church's doors. 
      And when I got pushed out of that place I became a true seeker.  I studied with a Hindu monk and learned about Native American medicine.  The Hindu tradition fit me as well as a sari I once tried to dress in  -- too tight and hobbling!  The Native American medicine is one I still practice, but it has never totally satisfied me, either. 
      So, back to church once more, with the realization that gnosis wasn't to be found within the confines of a church, but at least I was part of my own tradition again. Then, the deeper break this past year, something on a profounder level than the first time, and it was announced by a dream:
      I was in the back of a church, which was shaped like a square.  It had no windows, the walls were made of panels of wood, and all the pews were arranged in long rows with no middle aisle.  An altar stood on a short platform in the front.  There were people in the pews in front of me.
    A knight in armor that was brilliant silver rode slowly up the left aisle on a magnificent white horse.  I could see the beautifully braided, tight curls of the horse's mane.  The mounted figure rode to the front of the altar, saluted it with its bright sword, and then turned the horse around to face the congregation.  It  slowly made a sign of the cross over the people, then slowly rode down the right aisle and left.  The congregation was agitated and said, "It's Claire!  It's Claire!"  "No," I thought.  "It's Joan of Arc."
     Later that same day came the first volley of that inexplicable power, when I witnessed something bad happen in the church.  As time progressed and the situation became nastier I felt that uncanny, weighty atmosphere returning to me, but now at an intensity many times stronger than the first time I felt it.  An inner process began, a painful one, in which all the attachment I felt to my church was brutally scraped away from my soul.  Even my love of the Eucharist, which sustained my life since my First Communion, was destroyed. 
     Oh, it was truly painful.  But now came a gift that was far rarer.  It was complete detachment from the forms, the sentiments, the wishful thinking and false comfort of a collective religion.  And prospective detachment from many other things that overlaid my soul. 
     What is that power?  I can only call it the Spirit of God, which is ruthless in its desire for us to be truly ourselves -- damn every earthly illusion and pretension!  Fierce and uncompromising, yet behind the fire and destruction is Love Itself creating something new.      

Cool Jesus Movie!

     Last Sunday I went with some friends to see Cecil B. DeMille's silent "King of Kings" at the Hollywood Theater in Portland, OR.  The movie had a live organ accompaniment.  The organist, Donna Parker, performed using her own original composition.  There was nary a hymn in it and it was great! 
    After the opening scene, which featured a vamp Mary Magdalene sporting with a leopard and being driven in a chariot pulled by zebras, I feared that the rest of the movie might be as campy.  But it was a pretty sober retelling, staying close to the Gospel stories.
     I had to suspend disbelief a bit about the actor playing Jesus, because he looked like a blond version of Abraham Lincoln in Biblical robes.   Otherwise, he played the role as a "Man of Sorrows" well, with teary eyes and rather languid body language.  Peter was a large, hot-headed but good-hearted fellow.  The apostle John was a non-entity.  Judas had a major role throughout, and was a handsome fellow!
     The Virgin Mary was incredibly beautiful, and she was wearing a wimple, rather nun-like.
     It was fun to compare this movie with the later "The Ten Commandments."  Pontius Pilate emoted on a throne similar to the Pharaoh's, and the wicked were swallowed up by the quaking earth at the Crucifixion, just like the unfaithful Israelites are in the later film.
     Another thing about the film which I found pleasing was the respect for Judaism in the film.  Yes, the High Priest was stereotypically Jewish in some ways, but there were large Torah scrolls with Hebrew writing on them displayed prominently in the Temple scenes.  At the beginning of the film the written description said that Palestine was under the brutal rule of the Romans, which is correct but usually not emphasized in Jesus films. 
     At the end, when a glorified Jesus commands that the Gospel is to be spread to all nations, he stands like a giant over cities and also a factory which sports a blast furnace!  I was glad to know that Jesus has a special place in his Sacred Heart for Pittsburgh!
   I am surprised that such a good film about Jesus Christ was not better known.  Part of it has to do, I suppose, with it being a silent and in black and white.  People are missing out on something worthwhile.

Trying Again

I finally decided to try to get my blog rolling again.  Voila!  I have changed the name and I think that my newer posts will be a bit more...philosophical in nature.  Viz:  I recently left my church and am in a strange transitional state of soul because of that. 
What next?  I really don't know.
A very dear lady I talked to about my decision said that I could be a Christian without a church.  Well, that is true.  I have found that Sundays are becoming just as spiritual and meaningful - maybe even more so -- than going to church. 
I think the Jews do their Sabbath correctly, unlike my own experiences of a churchly Sabbath.  There are no meetings or religious school on their Sabbath.  It's devoted to the worship of God and study of Scripture.  Why can't Christians do something similar? 
One thing I DO NOT MISS is the danged "Sign of Peace," a fiasco wherein everybody jumps up, shakes hands with each other like politicians working a room or, even worse, try to hug you even if they don't know you.  I used to run to the bathroom when this charade happened during the service, and peek through the glass windows in the doors leading to the sanctuary when I came back, to make sure the whole sorry process was over. 
Well, in any case I found the service meaningless, even communion, which was deeply shocking to me.  I had loved going to communion since my very first one, and to have that sacrament lose its mana was hard.