Moment of Silence 2011

Enlightenment is to be awake.  When we sit in meditation, we begin to hear our thoughts, feel our feelings with greater clarity.  As we observe our minds with compassion, we are able to distinguish between what is our personal ego and what is the ineffable part of us that is connected to all sentient beings.  We may begin to recognize when the ego engages and when it is at rest.

Upon his enlightenment, the Buddha said that he had “met the builder and broken the ridgepole”; that he “would not build that house again.”  That house is the ego’s domain where we experience craving, dissatisfaction, hatred, projection — the desire to be anywhere but the present moment.

Becoming Enlightened

As we become enlightened, we can feel the ego kick into gear, trying to protect us from things we do not need to be protected from.  We learn to face fearful and anxiety-producing moments.  The house we lived in (ourselves) prior to meditation is now a different, more contented house; the Self-House we were meant to be before we were placed on the conveyor belt of bigger, better, more, not enough and conditional love.

Kyoto Jizo, 2006

Jizo Bodhisattva has so many names, often more than one in each country where he is revered.

In Sanskrit, his name is Ksitigarbha.  In Chinese he is often called Dìzàng, Dìzàng Wáng Púsà, Ti Tsang. In Japanese he is also Ojizo Bosatsu and Ojizo-sama, in Tibetan he is Sai Nyingpo, in Korean he is called Ji Jang.

The list goes on. For one Jizo workshop his name translated as “Earth Treasure Store Bodhisattva.”  I have heard his Sanskrit name translated as “Earth Womb” — rather like our Mother Earth.  The imagery holds true:  Jizo’s mission is to protect us, to remain on earth until all beings are finished suffering. I am still amazed that I ever found Jizo — first in Kyoto and then while hiking on Miyajima Island, off Hiroshima.

When I mention his name, most people have never heard of him and even after they know who he is, it seems he gets called Cheeso and other awkward terms.  I call him Jizo because I discovered him in Japan and because it is the easiest name to pronounce, thus make him available to more people.  Most folks don’t want to hear about something they can barely pronounce.

I taught psychological theory in a graduate program for a dozen years. As I taught, I learned. I became aware of the mechanisms of the ego, a sadly misunderstood part of us that is the executive function of our minds, navigating between our infantile cravings (id) and our (often guilty) conscience, derived from parents and society (superego). These three functions are unconscious; we don’t know where they are or what they’re doing.

If we are content with our lives, we can kick back and not give any thought to our psychodynamics. If, however, we are anxious, depressed, empty, exhausted, lonely, struggling in our relationships…then eventually we have to take a deliberate and mindful journey to recognize and learn to work with our inner lives.

We are surprised by how difficult it is to get and stay conscious. We may try meditation; but we quit. We go to yoga and may wind up just working-out.  Inconsistency is the ego’s way of avoiding change. why? because change is a journey into the unknown. …and what is anxiety if not fear of the unknown.

Ego Management

Ego management to trying to catch a fish in a river with your bare hands while blindfolded. Our ego uses defenses like denial, projection and the Great American Past-time:  narcotization. We temporarily avoid feelings and insight with any distraction: food, drugs, alcohol, shopping, gambling, unhealthy relationships.

If I could give you three steps for ego management they might go like this:  First, we come to realize that the ego, well-intentioned as it may be, has created problems that are worse than our real problems.  While we are busy being defended, our feelings are still there and unresolved. Our solutions to pain only worsen the pain. we aim for change but “it doesn’t work.”

The second step is to seek within ourselves for something greater than the ego, something “trans-personal,” into which we begin to place the care of our ego, much like we would hand over a screaming child to a capable caregiver.  Each morning on awakening, we set our sights on these two steps, being powerless over our ego’s defenses and the willingness to believe that there is something larger than the ego that can help.

The third step is the same in nearly every spiritual philosophy:  We ask this inner force to help us so that we may help others. This force is the antithesis of fear and anxiety.

Jizo Bodhisattva

During decades of seeking a trustworthy inner resource, I discovered the Jizo Bodhisattva. Jizo is revered in Buddhism as the protector of all those who suffer.  Which brings us full circle.  If the ego perceives suffering as something to defend against, then placing the ego into the care of Jizo may begin to ameliorate unproductive suffering.

The talisman I created is meant to be worn to aid in mindfulness; being awake to each moment in our lives.  If we can stay as mindful as possible, allowing the talisman to re-mind us often through the day, then we may face what we are avoiding and thus grow.

Jizo holding a sapphire, opening the throat to have a true voice

Jizo Listening: In 17 Brush Strokes

When we have a thought, do we respond to it as though it were true? Do we believe that our feelings tell us what is true about the world?

Two big buzzwords these days are Emotional Dysregulation. It assumes that normal is, say, in the range of middle C, within an octave either higher or lower in pitch. If you fly up and down the keyboard, triggered throughout the day, scattered on the mind’s 88 piano keys then you often need help to keep you closer to center.

Buddhism for Today

Many of the major universities and medical centers are experimenting with “neural Buddhism” – the practice of mindfulness to help us maintain equilibrium more efficiently. Mindfulness is like yoga without the asana or posture. In mindfulness we learn to focus our attention on our breathing. From there, we try to take our attention into other things. We practice, every day, developing the capacity to observe our emotions, thoughts and physical symptoms with a return to our center, to our breath.
Early in my work, I practiced mindfully washing my hands. I did not look in the mirror at what I was seeing. I purposefully kept my gaze on my hands, watching the soap lather up between my fingers, I felt the warm water running between my fingers. over my palms, as they went through motions I had done mindlessly, thousands of time. Why put our focus on something so ordinary? To train the mind. If we can pay attention to washing our hands, we have a place to start: we can begin to develop the skills necessary to look at our thoughts, at our assumptions, at our experiences.

Mindfulness is a Daily Practice

This morning, I mindfully made breakfast for my dogs. I realized that I was applying twice as much pressure to the knife and fork as was needed. I watched the ingredients mixing together, Gently. My hands softened, I felt my face soften, I felt…content.
It was not a 90 minute yoga class, or a ten day silent retreat. Yet it had a powerful and sublime impact on the rest of my day and how I then proceeded through driving in traffic with a gentle touch, how I dialed the phone with a lighter gesture.
Start with sitting for three minutes and breathing, just breathing and noticing your thoughts, your sensations. At the end of five minutes, stop and notice how you feel.

Do it again the next day. Notice resistance. Do it anyway. Keep a log. Notice that it takes 90 consecutive days to create a new pathway in our experience. Notice that change comes in increments. Notice how you quit when your expectations are unreasonable as to what mindfulness and meditation are.

If you quit, start again the next day, without judgement. If you cannot be consistent then congratulations, you have met your ego face-to-face.

A Reflection of the Inner Self, Held Safely

In order for us to develop a relationship with our innermost self, we need quiet time.  Many of my patients laugh when I suggest that they get up early enough to try meditating consistently.  “Getting and staying quiet is impossible,” the ego says.  To begin, set an egg-timer for five minutes of sitting in silence, noticing breath, noticing where we hold tension, where we are bracing ourselves for the onslaught of the day.  If we get even a few days of consistency, we will develop new ways of being, we will awaken within us our wise and observing self.  Try the old adage of meditating “one day at a time,” instead of a pursuit that you will do forever and always fail at.

Finding Time to Meditate

Impossible!  There is rarely (never?) enough time.  As long as we believe there is not enough time, we will always have an abundance of suffering, especially of the self-inflicted, velocity-addicted type.  After all, we go Fast which gets in the way of Sitting Still.  Meditation teaches us to find the stillness within us, the Jizo-Self within us, so that we may face the velocity of the day with equanimity instead of reactivity.  The Jizo-self is equivalent to an Earth Mother within us.  One of Jizo’s names when translated from the Sanskrit “Ksitigarbha”is Earth Womb.  In this womb we can learn to trust.  We can feel safe.

Jizo Holds Us in Safety

Until we notice where we are tight, we cannot release.  Our tense bodies are begging us for change.  As we sit to meditate, we stand at the door to the unconscious.  Without our permission, the ego kicks into gear, bracing us and scattering parts of us here and there.  Thoughts race and a hopelessness rushes in, a feeling that we will never SUCCEED at meditating.  If we can sit past this initial fragmentation, we can call upon the Jizo within us to hold us safely in stillness.  Then, with each breath, we may ask where we are tight and where are we soft and grounded?  We can then turn our focus to the softening.  We can teach the mind to focus on what is balanced, on what is natural.  This is a lifetime’s practice, not an event.  We are a product-driven culture and meditation is a process-driven journey.

Bracing is natural when we are stressed, not on the way to the inner Self.  But this physical-mind that cannot rest will likely prevent the changes we hope for.  Awareness of this comes first.  Not judging its seemingly relentless repetition is helpful, too.  Imagining the E.G.O.’s erroneous desire to “Edge Goodness Out” may be helpful, but we ought not malign the ego for doing its job.  So, when you arrive each morning at Square One, my wish for you is to have respect and gratitude for the opportunity to begin again at Square One.  When doing business with our inner universe, Square One is a fine place to live.

As I contemplate new and more effective ways to travel the path of the Jizo Bodhisattva, I find myself encountering more and more astonishing suggestions for “How To Live.”

I found a Sufi teaching that goes something like this:

Before speaking, to others or to ourselves, we might consider passing through four gates.  At the first gate, we ask ourselves, “Are these words true?” If so, we let them pass on; if not, back they go. At the second gate we ask; “Are they necessary?” At the third gate we ask; “Are they beneficial?” and at the fourth gate, we ask, “Are they kind?” If the answer to any of these is no, then what you are about to say should be left unsaid.

And, so, in practicing mindful and compassionate communication, we surely must slow our electronically-generated velocity-addicted minds down to a relative pause in order to consider these questions.  I envision my Chibi, my wildly imaginative and somewhat impulsive inner child, wanting to be right; to say Everything, to not pause and consider how my thoughts may impact my inner state or other people.  Then, I envision my Jizo, holding Chibi and asking the four questions.  “Is what you are saying True?  Necessary?  Beneficial?  Kind?”  If the answer to any of the four is ‘no’ then I may find peace in silence.  I the answer is a reluctant ‘I don’t know’ then I will try and wait a day before speaking.

In the practice of these four questions, so much becomes less urgent.

The other day in meditation, I was gazing at a painting I had made of Jizo.  I began lazily to count the brush strokes and realized there were approximately 17 in each painting.  The word “haiku” drifted through my mind.  17 syllables for haiku, 17 brush strokes for Jizo.

After meditation, I turned to a canvas I had prepared for a Jizo painting.  Continuing to breathe mindfully.  I painted a 17 stroke Jizo.  Haiku began appearing, as poetry often will, fully formed off the hard-drive of the universe.

Seventeen brush strokes,
awkward,
safe on watercolor –
ink on my hand.

Delighted, I photographed it and sent it up on to the tangle of the internet.  Some people liked it!  Later, in my office, another haiku presented itself:

Jizo Grief
Somewhere a stillborn child is crying
Mother, father
Touch uncracked seeds

Jizo is often used for ceremonies grieving the loss of a child or called upon to protect a child, sick or healthy.  I use Jizo as the image of my Higher Self, holding my child-self safely.  This vulnerable child-self, Chibi, has been called by dozens of names: “inner child,” “god-shaped hole,” “wounded self.”  I have described this part of us as a representation of the basic anxiety we feel at the shock of our birth: out of the warmth of the womb and into the lights and sounds of a shocking new world.  It is the safety we feel (or don’t feel) in those early months and years that, in part, define our minds and bodies.  My patients have often pleaded for an answer to WHAT DO I DO WITH MY ANXIETY???  …and, thus far, my best answer is to climb into the robes of Jizo and accept that anxiety is a normal part of life.  We eventually learn not to hate anxiety but rather bathe it in a kind of radical loving-kindness.

I invite you to visit my meditation page at: www.jizoandchibi/meditation and enter a state of meditation/trance/hypnosis.  Then welcome the anxiety, worry or trauma to tea by asking the Center of Your Mind to send you a representation of your anxiety in the form of an animal of some kind.  Sit with it.  …then, with a deep breath, envision Jizo entering the tea party and providing a sense of calm and safety, regardless of the situation you are fearing.

Jizo Therapy is in its infancy:  an eclectic set of theories I have strung together since 1988 when I started graduate studies to become a psychotherapist.  The therapeutic qualities of Buddhism were only spoken of by Thich Nhat Hanh and a few others.  The brain-imaging of Tibetan monks was decades away and weekend workshops with dozens of speakers were unheard of.

Roots of Hypnosis

Part of my work includes hypnosis, which has been around for as long as meditation — before Christ.  In the early 1800′s Mesmer “mesmerized” in his salons, inspiring work by the neurologist Jean Martin Charcot who presented his findings on hypnotism to the French Academy of Sciences in the 1870′s.  In 1885, Sigmund Freud spent time with Charcot and then he and his friend Joseph Breuer used hypnosis successfully in psychotherapy.  Since then, trance has been formally recognized as a state in which transformation is possible.

In 1972, Herb Spiegel articulated how the “Eye Roll Test” was an indication of receptivity to hypnosis.  Clinical hypnotherapists have been using the eye roll to deepen trance for years. (Dr. Spiegel also helped treat Sybil, whose case became the subject of a book and inspired two television movies.) In the late 1980′s, Francine Shapiro began using eye-movement, developing bi-lateral eye movements and tapping to aid in the resolution of trauma.  Research bears out its efficacy.

Jizo Bodhisattva

In meditating upon the Jizo Bodhisattva, the protector of those who suffer, the wounded parts of us may be held safety without the expectation of being rid of the hurt places but rather in loving-acceptance of the trauma and difficulties of life, whether they are existential or neurotic in nature.  In a sense, we are using a trance of loving-kindness to break the traumatic trance that conjures new trauma and drama to keep the familiar adrenaline flowing.

Circular Breathwork

In my own work, I have integrated circular breathwork, “circum-respiration,” with a movement of the eyes that I call “circum-oculation,” to aid in settling down both psyche and soma in order to find inner safety.  The metaphor for the inner safety is the figure upon which I have meditated:  Jizo, holding an infant.  In finding any part of our bodies where we are relaxed, we can begin to tap into the place within us where Jizo resides.  From there, we can build a new experience with focus on where we feel safe instead of the familiar thinking of what is wrong, how we are not safe.

Jizo holding a pearl

Mindfulness has now been proven to help in the treatment of depression, anxiety, and Attention Deficit Disorder.

What is Mindfulness?

Mindfulness, a state that can be brought about by meditation, creates physical change in the body. Universities like UCLA have studied the brains of Tibetan monks and found their frontal lobe is thicker than that of ordinary, non-meditating people. After only six weeks of practicing mindfulness with a group, there is marked improvement in brain function and mental clarity. Jon Kabat-Zinn has also studied this and documented the ways the practice of mindfulness can reduce stress.

Much anxiety and depression is governed by our thoughts. When we come to understand this, we may develop the skills that enable us to slow down, pause and then focus. It’s a powerful act to set an intention to be mindful each minute going forward. It can be challenging, however. Having a talisman to remind us of this intention is why I created the wearable icons of Jizo and Chibi. They represent the marriage of Buddhist meditation and the psychological theory of attachment therapy – a way for us to have a transitional object to help us connect with our Buddha – or Jizo – nature. And they are a lot prettier than the rubber band I wore for many years, early on in my path toward a Buddhist psychotherapy practice.

Why I chose Jizo and Chibi

Jan Chozen Bays, a pediatrician and Roshi at the Great Vow Meditation Center in Oregon, has written about Jizo’s role as a guardian of children. Sometimes we all feel small like infants longing to feel safe; to be seen, heard and understood. My Jizo holds Chibi to his chest, where he is often depicted carrying a pearl or precious stone to light the darkness. I hope you embrace Jizo and Chibi so they may comfort you and bring you light. It’s my hope that if you wear Jizo, the figure becomes a touchstone, a reminder, to become mindful.

Jizo holds a wish-fulfilling pearl

It’s easy to get inside your head and stay there. But so much anxiety and depression is governed by our thoughts. This is the paradox of living in a fast-moving world. We need to slow down to break out of the cycle of anxiety and depression. Meditation is one of the most effective tools in achieving this because it allows you to detach from the constant mind-chatter, which includes thinking distortions and false fears, and permits you to find some peace. I’d like to offer some techniques to start you on this path.

My Spiritual Path 

Chibi with a topaz "star" to wish on

I was already on a spiritual path before grad school, but it was Thich Nhat Hanh who pushed me into the direction of integrating Buddhist principles with psychotherapy. These principles are powerful tools you can use to build inner peace, but setting the intention to be mindful of each minute can be a challenge, even for experts like Pema Chodron.

If you meditate, even for five minutes a day, you can awaken to something powerful: You choose where the mind goes.

That’s the first step toward detachment. Now, some people think of detachment as becoming “disengaged,” but it’s really more about being aware of where our mind goes, and awakening to the fact that we need not rebuild the ego’s defenses.

As Buddha said upon his awakening, “I have met the builder and broken the ridgepole. I will not build that house again.”

There are forms of meditation where we have a soft gaze at Buddha or another iconic figure. In the gaze and meditative state, we tap into our own Buddha or Jizo-nature, activating that part of ourselves that is greater than the ego. I created the small wearable icons of Jizo and Chibi to help with this. They help us connect and provide a focal point to calm the mind.

It seems that nearly everyone who meditates comes to a place where they give up.  They do not have the patience.  They do not see the results they think they are supposed to see.  Even if you do not sit in meditation, holding a Jizo you are wearing can still provide a moment of peace in the midst of a busy day when uncomfortable feelings arise.

Touchstones

It’s my hope that in the wearing of Jizo, one continues to make contact with our meditative figure all day long. The figure becomes a touchstone, a reminder, to become mindful and then practice placing the ego and its anxious, non-productive narratives into the care of Jizo, the Earth Womb’s, robes …climbing in where we see Chibi sitting on his chest. That’s us: We are little Chibi and we place our little self in the care of our Vast Self.

Wearing Chibi has an equally powerful effect of reminding us to care for the inner child by placing it in the care of Jizo. I think of Jizo as a representation of the “unsuspected inner resource” the philosopher William James spoke of in Varieties of Religious Experience. I’ve written a meditation you might like to put all of this together. Just Goggle the word “Circum-Respiration,” whenever you want to meditate.

Wearing the Jizo reminds us to stay mindful and move toward compassion, to remember to breathe in a circle … to be in our bodies and present to the precious moment which is right now.