A political path to inner peace

Some of my notes from a recent seminar on personal transitions with Atum O'Kane --friend, spiritual guide, and treasured teacher (who led our pilgrimage to Bhutan in 2010). My life is a persistent push-pull between the soul and the ego. When is the ego a stubborn guide when the soul longs to lead?   How do I live so that both are tools on my path and together manifest as the identity I seek?  

Throughout our pilgrimage, we have heard about Guru Rinpoche, the most revered sage in Bhutanese society.  He is known as a second Buddha, and appears in every temple and home in the country.    On our second to last day, we climbed to Tiger's Nest, a monastery built into a cliff thousands of feet above Paro valley.  Guru Rinpoche meditated there in the 8th Century after  flying from Tibet on the back of Yeshe Tsogyal, whom he transformed into a flying tigress for the purpose of the trip.  Guru Rinpoche can do things like that.   On our last day in Bhutan, we met Guru Rinpoche's reincarnation.  The experience was beyond words.  At least not that I can find right now.  Atum gave us this Sufi practice in his honor: Deeply Rooted In the present moment Seeing with the clear open empty spacious mind Beyond doubt and fear Abiding in the luminous heart of equanimity The way unfolds before me Sitting in front of Guru Rinpoche's gard...

The group prepares for a major hike.  It will be an hour, straight up.  Our destination is Tango University for Buddhist Studies, one of two universities in the country. Atum asks us to walk in silence.  To reflect on the people who have led us to this point on our respective journeys. What have I not said to you?  I will say it now, on the side of this mountain, heart full of gratitude and gasping for breath. And then I will say this prayer for you. May the blessings of God rest upon you. May God's peace abide in you. May God's presence illuminate your soul. Now and forever more. Surrounded in utter silence except for the sound of my own breath, a bright whinny rings through the wet air.  On the cliff above, a beautiful horse stares directly at me.  I feel the energy flowing between us.  On this mountain, in this silence, if only for today, we are connected. We pilgrims arrive silently, one by one, at the gates of the Monastery.  Red...

Monday Back in Thimpu, we have a couple of luxurious hours off, so several of us go for a hike above town.  We start at a radio tower high above the village and soon are surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of prayer flags.  The air is magic.  Pure magic. The hike that follows is straight up.  We set off at a good clip, and I'm huffing 20 minutes in.  It feels amazing to back in the body after so much mind work. We arrive at an old stupa with moss and grass growing from all sides.  Then on to the monastery that sits on the peak of the mountain.  It is attended by a small group of monks.  We enter and climb stairs to a loft where a giant Buddha sits.  It was tiny and perfect.  Outside, two monks are conducting a ritual with subtle bells and drums. Endorphins run through my veins as I descend (ascend) into meditation.  It was sublime, and beloved. Monday Night--Atum Teaching Life is change, always changing.  Don't c...

Sunday: Punakha and Wangdue We visit the 3rd oldest dzong in the country.  It is ancient, not as well kept as the last two we visited, but every bit as holy. Overcoming a certain shyness, I approach Atum with a question that has followed me around the past 3 days.  How do I reconcile this place with my life?  I live in a political world, driven by ego and arrogance.  I don't want to be a person driven by ego.  But I love my work.  Where is the balance? Atum tells me the ego is important to maintain.  It is in fact a necessary tool in my line of work.  But I must ensure that it is in service of the greater good, as opposed to the "self."  We talk about the great political figures in history who have managed to "hold the center": Jesus, Mohammed, Gandhi, Jimmy Carter, even W.  He tells me I am in training as a spiritual warrior.  I smile.  I like that. I ask Atum about detachment in Buddhism.  Do I have to shirk...

Saturday Up early again, breakfast, and into the van for the three hour drive to the Pass.  Clouds and mist obstruct view of the Himalayas but create their own beauty.  Visit the dzong (temple) built by K4's eldest wife.  Very ornate, exquisite.  Murals tell the spiritual and royal history of the nation.  We learn the steps to a proper prostration.  First to the back of the temple, then to the Buddha. I clear my head, I clear my eyes, I clear my lips.  Forehead to the earth.  Three times each way.  In this, I open the chakra for the lessons of this place to flow in. Mom, Logs and I climb a hill next to the dzong and hang prayer flags for Tanner (born today!), Nate, Rafe, and all of our loved ones. Back on the road to Khuruthang.  Beautiful rice fields built into the sides of the mountains.  The town where we stop for lunch is just 8 or 9 years old.  It was moved here by the government to make room for the monks.  Hmm...

Friday morning Wake up at 5 and spend hours reading about the Buddha. After breakfast, leave for the Thimpu festival, the most beloved celebration of Buddhism in the country.  Everyone dressed up in Bhutan's version of Sunday's best. I am "harassed" by one of the festival clowns and his tool of shame--a phallus.  After a thoroughly embarrassing spectacle, he insists on getting my email address. And gives me his in return.  A new friend. Friday meeting with Atum (our teacher) When feeling anxious, relax into the present and trust the world. It is too easy to miss the experience of being here by trying to capture each moment.  We cannot grasp, because it is always changing. Notice which archetypal figures speak to me.  Each is a doorway to exploration. The quality of emptiness is this: where you have space, you have accommodation, and it is there that something of value can arise.  Think of the heart as having emptiness.  Like the empty bowl...

Four months have passed since my pilgrimage to Bhutan, and with each one, I slip further away from the inner source that I discovered in the company of Buddhist monks, my sangha, and hundreds of ancient Buddhas.  The silver threads of connection worn down by life in the real world; the center under seige by self-doubt and distraction.  I do not like this slipping. And so I return to my journal.  Or should I say, my journal returns to me.  I nearly forgot I had carried it with me those two weeks.  Thank goodness I did. *** September 16, 2010             Bhutan! Arise at 3:30am, feeling fully rested and excited. Board bus to airport, check-in at ticket-counter, realize I've left my iPhone at the hotel in downtown Bangkok.  Call hotel, recover phone (which they will keep until my return), eat breakfast, and board the plane--DrukAir, the only airline in the country.  Ascending into the sky, we fly under a rainbow. ...

One of my favorite mantras since returning from Bhutan is "breathing is awesome!"  Some of you have heard me say it aloud, and it's certainly made appearances in this blog.  No, it may not be a traditional mantra (along the lines of omni mani padme hom or "honor the jewel of the lotus"), but I think the reminder is just as important. It's just this: the breath is always there.  You don't have to pay for it, you hardly have to exert any additional energy to capture it, and it is instantly effective.  I wish I could say the same things for my other favorite stress relievers...wine, chocolate, yoga.   Not so much. But the breath is your silent, ever present friend.  It does not leave you in times of stress or sadness.  But it is an underestimated, undervalued, often-ignored friend.  Poor guy.  When was the last time you took a deep breath?  Do it right now.  Doesn't that feel awesome?  Now give yourself a high-five for a...

It was my first week back from Bhutan, and an email from a treasured colleague (a consummate DC networker with impeccable taste) pops onto my screen. "Caro--are you coming to the launch reception at my house this week?"  Without thinking, I write back "Sorry, I have a hair appointment."  What?   Several hours later, my boss asks me the same question, to which I give her the same answer.  "What do you mean you have a hair appointment?" she responds, "Caroline, have you lost your mind?"  Turns out while I was finding inner peace in Bhutan, I misplaced some of my sensibilities, particularly those related to work.  Luckily, that's why we have great bosses to remind us of priorities like important launch events for projects we deeply care about. The cocktail reception, like its host, is high-cotton.  After polite greetings to key people, I seek out a glass of wine and a colleague who is willing to listen to me talk about Bhutan for the thou...

Yes, my happiness-level of late has been markedly other-worldly.  But I still struggle with remnants of my pre-Bhutan life.  Which is why I was particularly delighted when a new practice came to me today during yoga class.  I will hereby call it the “ Practice for dispelling disappointment/frustration/attachment and moving forward into your own awesomeness ” Breathing in through the nose, while thinking of subject of disappointment/frustration/attachment : “I love you.” Breathing out through the nose : “I release you.” (Repeat) Breathing in through the nose, while thinking of yourself : “I love me. “ Breathing out through the nose : “I release you.” (Repeat ad infinitum) Breathing is awesome!

It’s been two and a half weeks since I returned home from Bhutan.  I have fully reengaged in my Washington life.  And yet, the lessons from my sangha are still making their way into my consciousness. While in Bhutan, I found myself craving more.  More direction, more guidance, more exploration through organized activity.  Meanwhile, the rest of the group commented on how much we were already doing.  I felt otherwise—I wanted to pack as much into those two weeks as the hours of each day would allow.  One night, Atum (our subtly magnificent teacher) reminded us that we were witnessing huge archetypal images every day, absorbing them through our 'crown chakra,' and receiving lessons that we may not yet be aware of.  It was true.  I did not realize how much we were already processing—so much was our activity on a different dimension. Now, weeks later, the lessons are materializing as potent thoughts.  Concepts and ideas so strong that...

I have six unretrieved voicemails on my phone.  This is a new thing for me.  Not that friends didn't leave messages before--they left plenty.  The perplexing development is my comfort at letting the voicemails sit, unlistened to, with the glaring red '6' staring up from my phone.  Is this a minute consequence of my new spiritual self?  As If I am saying, "Hi, Six.  I am fine with your existence, and no, I don't need to diminish you in order to return to the natural balance of zero voicemails." Hmmm. *** Sitting on the floor in front of present Buddha, right ankle over left knee (mine not his), I tapped into something.  I didn't mean to; I was pretty new to this, after all.  But that's how meditation works--once you resign yourself to non-intention, the intention arrives.  And so it did: one phrase at a time, floating into my head.  I can still feel them sailing in, words strung together with the urgency of desperate need and the calm...

One month ago, I set forth on a journey of which the depth would far exceed the length. I returned ten days ago a changed person. Perhaps 'changed' isn't the right word. I was then the person I am now; I am now the person I was then. But an inner source has been tapped and a new dimension discovered; the center stronger and the path more clear. Of course, enlightenment doesn't happen overnight. Especially not for me. The separation anxiety I felt from my work was somewhere between 1) total panic and 2) the single-childless-woman's equivalent of postpartum depression. What do you mean there is no Blackberry service? The possibility of disconnecting entirely was more foreign a concept than 3G in a dial-up nation. By Day 3, I was in meltdown mode, with little chance of rescue. The only option was to drown in the ocean of calm. Of course, once I stopped flailing, I floated. Flying from East to West, against the spin of the Earth, I had the sense of going...