Pause, Relax, Open, Trust …

A couple of months ago I downloaded all of the Buddhist Geeks‘ podcasts and began walking my way through them (yeah, I listen while I walk my very lovable, but old and creaky, Lab around the block each night).

One episode that has really connected was Episode 56: Insight Dialogue: Extending Meditation into Mutuality with Gregory Kramer. Meditating isn’t a social activity by any means (even though it helps to do it with a group) and Kramer makes a number of interesting points about Buddhism and interpersonal relationships.

However, the thing that really caught my attention was when Kramer said Insight Dialog was based on 6 steps and he was going to list them. My immediate thought was “oh no!” I can’t remember 6 of anything these days, especially while walking the dog, so I waited expectantly for the Geeks to cut him off (note to listeners: the BG podcasts run about 15 minutes and the Geeks rarely encourage guests to go into technical details, which is too bad).

Somehow, this time, the Geeks missed their chance, and Kramer launched into a short lecture/explanation of the 6 steps. They are:

1. Pause
2. Relax
3. Open
4. Trust emergence
5. Listen deeply
6. Speak the truth

Terrific! I saw immediately how they made sense for better communication. I could also see how steps 1-4 would fit into my personal meditation practice. Lost in thought? Pause that thought, relax, and open to the experience of breathing by trusting the physical sensation that emerges. I have started using “pause-relax-…” interchangably with “release-relax-return”, a useful sequence taught by a local Zen monk.

Iron and Silk

I just re-read Iron and Silk after having first read it about 5 or 6 years ago. I had heard the author, Mark Salzman, being interviewed on the radio. I was captivated by his unusual vocal style and storytelling ability. I wished I had recorded the audio from this program, but the book would have to do instead.

What a treat it was! I was just beginning to study Tai Chi back then and I felt right at home with his stories of wushu teachers. I had also traveled some myself. I had been an exchange student in Japan just before my senior year of high school (1971) and spent two years living in Israel as a postdoc and young lecturer (1982-84) so I knew what it felt like to be the “oddball foreigner”.

The book was just as charming the second time through. Salzman knows how to listen to his surroundings and how to tell a story, but he is also a charmer in his own right. Many of his escapades left me jealous of his ability to skate on through with a smile on his face. He is like a tree that survives any storm by bending in the wind. I, on the other hand, can never bend. I stand tall and stiff  as branches snap off on all sides.

I still feel too stiff. Every day is a trip into foreign lands. I work too hard to keep myself upright, but who am I, really? Would bending make me any less myself?