A Simple Question: How do you simplify your life?

Put another way, "What do you think is absolutely essential?"

This question is so very important, as truly, you can do anything you like with your life - but what is it that you actually do spend your life doing?  How do you spend your time?  What is most important to you? What things do you feel are essential?  Do you find that often you end up doing things that you don't seem to want to be doing?  How did that happen - out of feelings or 'should's' that came out of nowhere?

This is a request to hear your voice; I want to know what simplicity and 'the essential' look like in your life, and for all of us to see that essential to one person may not be to another, and vice versa.

Since the birth of my son I have not written at this blog, as the essential for me has changed dramatically.  What things in life consciously draw you; what does so perhaps unconsciously via habit or compulsion, or perhaps even plain old laziness?

I have found this sort of looking at the essential and simplicity to be very refreshing, a 'lightening the load', an internal house cleaning.

My Birth Experience

On April 21st, 2008 my partner gave birth to our son. As you might imagine, the experience was profound in many ways - some expected ways, and some not. Prior to the big day, we felt that we had prepared as much as one can prepare for such an experience: we took childbirth prep classes, we read book after book about the possibility of this or that happening, we watched movies on birth, and we educated ourselves in whatever other ways we could.

One of the movies that we watched was the newly released 'The Business of Being Born'. In it, the trend of commercializing the birth process is looked at closely and critically. If you do ever intend to have a child, I highly recommend watching this film.

In addition to this movie's supportive information, our plans from the beginning of pregnancy were to have a natural, unmedicated birth experience. In our efforts to have a natural childbirth, we selected a hospital setting that supported the model of midwifery - a hospital that recognizes the value of having a highly educated attendant, and if all things run smoothly, also recognizes that a 'medical doctor' is not necessary to the birth experience itself.

It seemed immediately as if all of our best intentions were met with resistance and fear, both of which were apparently being disguised as 'safety and care'. Who would argue with 'safety and care'? We did, and we're so very glad we did. Let me explain further.

We arrived at Labor and Delivery and were admitted to our room. Part of what makes a childbirth 'natural' is that there are minimal interventions; that is, the birth process is honored as a sacred and natural process, and that unless there are unexpected complications, it is allowed to proceed on its own schedule, to its own natural rhythm.

Our initial examination was anything but natural. We expected the nurse to give my partner an examination that determined how dilated her cervix was, as the contractions were coming quite rapidly. Instead what happened was the nurse reached so far into my partner that the baby's bag of waters ruptured. Whether or not rupturing the bag of waters was intended by the 'caregiver' is truly beside the point - this act was executed with little communication, and poorly done to say the least.

Yes, the bag of waters does need to rupture eventually, but nature knows this and it happens in its own time. This first experience was in some ways the 'signal marker' of things to come, a signal that speaks to the mind's desire to 'control' experiences it fears. At nearly every turn in our process of birth, we felt as if we were fending off the fear of the hospital staff.

     One would think that they were the ones who knew how things went, that they would know how to remain patient and calm based on their extensive experience with birth. They were not experienced in the natural process of birth, but instead they were experienced and educated in the 'systems' of surgery, fear, control, and intervention.

Is there a time to intervene? Of course there is: when the mother or child's well-being is truly in danger. Our staff seemed to think that pregnancy and birth were inherently dangerous - they are not; they are natural.

Labor progressed somewhat slowly for my partner, and as this hospital was also a 'birthing center', we requested that she be able to soak in a birthing tub to help her relax. After repeated requests for 'the tub', three hours later it was brought. It was no more than the size of a garbage can and we didn't end up using it - but what took three hours? An hour maybe. We weren't asking them to build a swimming pool.

Early on in our visit to Labor and Delivery we were asked to sign a release form. Normal, right? But on the form it said 'vaginal birth, possible cesarian'. What? We've nearly just arrived and they were already 'making space' for a cesarian - 'just in case' they said. We refused to sign the release and had them rewrite it to say 'vaginal birth' only. Truly, it felt like once we held our ground in this way, the staff backed off quite a bit. But who knows to call off the hounds in this way - we did, because we did our homework ahead of time.

Once we truly established our firm commitment to letting nature takes it course, the staff changed completely; they relaxed a bit, but more importantly they gave us the space we needed to give birth. Why would the staff not give someone the space to give birth in the first place? Good question. Perhaps for efficiency's sake, or for economic reasons. Again, I highly recommend the 'The Business of Being Born' as a starting place to begin educating yourself about birth in hospitals, but to also learn about what is viewed as 'health' in the westernized world.

What is health? Health is our natural state. Yes, imbalances do occur, but our body's wisdom acts naturally to bring us back into balance. This view of health is not widely recognized in western culture, as in western culture there is a model of pathology, one of 'treating disease' rather than promoting and supporting each being's natural health.

Ask yourself: do you believe that you have all of the necessary tools to live a fully realized and healthy life? Or, do you think that somewhere there are people called 'experts' that are necessary to your happiness? Yes, people who are skilled in certain things are needed when complications arise - but not unless they do actually arise. If complications do not arise, then why intervene?

Women - do you believe that you can have a natural, unmedicated childbirth? Or has western culture convinced women that the pain of labor is 'too much' for them to handle, or that their bodies can't do it for some reason? Women - ask yourself honestly, 'Can I give birth?'. And if for some reason you doubt that you can, ask yourself where you think that doubt came from.

In conclusion: Overall our birth experience was incredible and joyous, and truly every staff member was kind and loving beyond belief (it was the automated system that seemed unkind). We thank gratefully our doctor and nurses, and all of the after-care staff for supporting us to have the birth that we wanted. We have a beautiful, healthy son.

In some ways the discussion I've proposed is one of 'ends and means'. Most people might say that as long as the baby is born, who really cares how it happens. But the process does matter: a baby that goes through the vaginal canal is 'squeezed' (literally and figuratively) into this world - it is a right of passage; the mother's body during natural childbirth is lucid, responsive, awake - and this is what facilitates the post-birth bonding that seems to be 'mysteriously' disappearing in the western world.

Perhaps nothing is more controversial nor more natural than birth; all the more reason to look deeply within yourself to discover the real truth. Please watch 'The Business of Being Born'. I welcome your comments on this topic. Thank you.

Can't Feed the Birds: Is That True?

This article is about a recent occurrence in my life and culture that bewilders me. For a couple of years now my partner and I have been leaving birdseed in a flower box outside of our apartment's backside windows. From time to time we have had anywhere from a few visiting birds to what I would consider as many as 10+ resident ones. Mostly doves and smaller chickadee type birds, but recently we have had the occasional pigeon.

Well, last night I received a phone call from my landlord saying that he had received a complaint from the neighbor, and that our beloved birds have been leaving droppings on the neighbor's deck; I can understand (sort of) the neighbor's concern.

After telling me of the neighbor's complaint, and then asking me if I in fact was feeding the birds out of the window box, there was then a long pause on the other end of the phone... I said 'yes, and is there anything else?' The landlord then went on to say that 'feeding wild birds is illegal' and he made it seem as if this was a clear matter of fact that I should know fully about, and that my feeding the birds could only be occurring 'under cover', as if such a thing were something someone should be hiding. What?

So, my partner and I decided to do some research on our own to see what foolishness our society was up to now. We did discover that feeding wild birds in public areas in San Francisco is technically against the law, but from what we found there was no compelling statements about the illegality of feeding birds in one's own back yard. The landlord intends to come over today with the 'proof' of his statements.

Truly, for me the issue at hand is indeed both the birds, but is also not. All of nature is on trial, and the disconnection that westerners feel with regards to it is blatantly evident and out of balance. Regardless of the droppings on the deck (perhaps one could be grateful to have a deck that might have the occasional droppings?), what has our culture come to that feeding birds is even potentially considered illegal? In any setting? And, whose time is so very wrought with confusion that this sort of 'stand' seems like a good use of one's life and time? Yes, I am sad for the suffering that our neighbor's ignorance has brought them, and that this issue seems important enough to them to say something - but much of the world is at war, and bird poop is the call to action?

For me feeding the birds and other simple pleasures are the things that make life truly worth living. These things are even more central to cultivating freedom than all of the various mindfulness practices I've learned, than my life's closest friends, and even more central to life than my home. For without nature and its care and nourishment, these other various things cease to exist - nature is essence, it is essential; and this is exactly what our culture seems to be blind to. I can live without practices, friends, even a home - albeit a sad life indeed, but the one thing that I cannot live without is life - nature herself. This seems so very obvious to me; am I the one confused?

In San Francisco, the 'champion' of mindfulness in the United States, I find this most disturbing. It's not as if there were five hundred birds clawing at the neighbors window. Perhaps he or she might even consider the birds a welcome guest, seeing the benefits of their occasional company largely outweighing any cleaning inconvenience that may arise?

I welcome your comments on this post, as I am at a bit of a loss with our culture (What defines our culture, what characteristics does it have?) - will it take away even the most basic of our innate qualities and caring? In the past I've chosen to be less of an activist and more of a teacher/practitioner, but what now to do? What would you do?

Tea As Practice

     Taking tea, and being with tea and people, has been a practice in the culture of humanity for much of recorded history.  My personal love of tea has been a great way to transition from the often introspective practices of seated meditation and yoga asana to a more social mindful life.  However, not until more recently has the art of tea revealed itself as a true method and expression of residing in sustained satsang, or community of truth - with other people, but also with nature, art, and beauty of all kinds.

Why is this?  In any experience there is an opportunity for appreciation.  I've heard it said, "Where the subject meets the object, be the most mindful."  For myself, this is exactly what the act of taking tea offers; it offers the opportunity to awaken not only to the experience of enjoyment, but to also awaken to the experience of the experience itself.  When an experience is subtle like taking tea can be, then it teases the taster to raise their level of not only knowing, but also asks of them to look at how they come to know what they do in fact know; and how do they know what they know?  How do you know what you know about all of your experiences?  What is the measure that you actually do know what you know?  In the subtle, we are all faced with the opportunity to mature our humility, our relationship to uncertainty, our love of mystery, and the joy of discovery.

     My own 'tea practice' began as a very informal daily ritual of drinking tea.  Part of me intuitively knew that tea meant more to me than taste, warmth, and routine, but I was also more than happy to engage with tea in this way.  Only until recently has my relationship with tea taken a turn towards more directed practice - my first 'steps' towards directed practice were to begin relating to tea in a refined tasters way, similar to how one may approach wine, cheese, and the like.

     Tea as meditation has recently unfolded for me as I've begun to study chado or chanyou, the art of making tea from Japan's, or Zen Buddhism's, perspective.  There are four major schools of this Japanese tea ceremony - I am studying omotesenke, which I've heard roughly translates as 'front of the house'; from what I've gathered, the other schools refer to other parts of the house as well.  The practice is detailed, beautiful, and specific, yet freeing in the way of the Tibetan saying, "Outer discipline, inner spaciousness."  I've just begun this practice, but I've already begun to have 'rumblings' of its far reaching applications, both inwardly and outwardly.

I've also begun to engage in the practice of Gongfu Cha, or the Chinese art of making tea.  This ceremony is more about the art of tasting and socialization than the beauty and refinement of the Japanese ceremony.  Chinese tea is also very much grounded in 'origin', the natural setting and cultivation of the tea bush itself.  This fact is very much reflected in the way Gongfu Tea is offered and conducted.

     Of course anything can be a part of your personal practice, and truly all that it takes to make this so is to focus long enough to deepen.  Long ago I attend a gathering on Sufism, or mystical Islam.  At this time in my 'practice life' I was doing a lot of sampling of various paths of practice.  I arrived at the gathering quite early and there was one other person there, an old man of about seventy.  I told him of my 'sampling method' and he said, "If you want to dig a well to get water you don't dig several two-foot deep holes, but rather you need to dig one really deep one."  I took this to heart and I left before the gathering even began, as I had decided that yoga and seated meditation had already become my focus.

     Focusing is so very important, but it does not imply 'closing off' to new experiences in any way.  This in itself is a practice, as often when we find what works for us, our mind makes a leap that we are unconscious of - 'if this works, then everything else must not work'.  To find what works for us - in that it helps us live in ease and freedom - is a gift of unmeasurable beauty; and I look forward to how taking tea can support and serve my established practices of yoga and meditation in a way that allows me to reside in a life consciously lived.  Live well.