From Parallax.org

Before I started practicing Buddhism, I was a lapsed Christian. But when I was a practicing Christian, I had a book called “Can You Drink the Cup?” by Henri Nouwen. It was about Jesus and the last supper. He asked his disciples that question. He detailed to them exactly what it meant. They all answered yes, but before the end of the night, they had all left him or betrayed him. They did not understand the gift of the cup, only the price.

This is Holy week, and although I do not practice anymore, I will certainly meditate on the Crucifixion. Whether human or God, Jesus suffered for his belief. He, the strongest of believers, asked why God had forsaken him. Even he found it difficult to drink the cup. I am much, much less strong than he. I dislike sacrifice or frugality or refraining. I like my cushy, comfortable life. I’m pretty sure I miss opportunities for growth every day, because I don’t even see them through the haze of possible discomfort.

Thich Nhat Hanh tells a story in “My Master’s Robe, Memoirs of a Novice Monk.” He came upon his master with a pile of old, worn brown robes. It was the night before his ordination. His master was picking through the robes, trying to find the least worn. Then he began to mend it. Thich Nhat Hanh asked him to let him do it. His master said no, that he was mending it for him to wear tomorrow, and he wished it to be done with his own hand.

When I heard this story, it immediately occurred to me that I would not have gotten the gift.  If I had been Thich Nhat Hanh, and had received that mended brown robe, I probably would have thought, “Is this all I get, this old, mended robe? They can’t even give me a new robe?”

I would not have realized, at least not immediately, that this was a gift of love. How many other such gifts have I completely missed out on? How many times have I failed to see that what I have is exactly what I am supposed to have? Can I drink the cup?

The person I did it to has been difficult and selfish recently. Of course, he is in authority over me. There would have been no point in being naughty if he weren’t. He just expects me to do things for him, without asking and without being thanked. I’ve spent months trying to please him and avert angering him. To no avail, I might add. I fear the relationship is irreparably broken between us. Having determined this, I have begun to act out.

When he called me about it, I didn’t apologize. I did, however, assure him that I would fix it immediately. Because I am not really that good at being naughty. And I dislike having anyone angry with me.

Needless to say, I did not feel very good about this after it was done. I felt angry. Angry with myself. Angry with him. Angry with the situation I find myself in. I am not the moody buddhist for nothing.

I could have spent my day beating myself up that I tried to get away with something, knew I was not going to, and then succumbed to helping this man when I did not want to help him. That would have been how I handled it in the past.

Instead, I listened to Tara Brach talk about Equanimity. Equanimity seemed as far away from how I was feeling as it is possible to feel. Yet equanimity is always available. Simply by saying yes. Yes to feeling angry, yes to feeling disappointed, yes to feeling frustrated.

This seems foreign to me. I’ve spent most of my life saying no. No to liking myself, no to the personality I have, no to what I look like, how I feel, what I do, where I go, how things are. No, no, no. I can always summon up a no. Yes? It’s okay to be angry? It’s okay to want to fight? How can this be?

The reality is, this is how I feel. I can feel no other way. I can be attached to it, fight it, wish it were different. It changes nothing. Or I can acquiesce, say yes. Keep saying yes to it until I accept it. Saying it over and over to myself, it begins to feel right. More right than anything has ever felt. Yes, I feel angry. Really, that still hasn’t changed as I write this. But I’m no longer seething, crying, wishing it were different. It just is.

When I came home from work the other day, this little guy was on my gate. He stayed right in place while I slid the gate open, and then closed. Then he let me take his picture. What a lesson in keeping your seat! My gate slides about 8 feet on a steel track.

Trinity Cathedral borrowed from http://www.trinitymiami.org/

Valentine’s Day in Miami was a pretty busy day. The boat show was in town. Flamenco dancing opened this weekend at the Arsht center.

But the place to be was the Trinity Cathedral. Trinity played host to Krishna Das, arguably the most popular chanter ever.

This beautiful chapel was full to overflowing with an amazingly diverse group. We filled up the pews, the aisles, the floor, the choir space. Ages ranged from young babies to people in their 60s, 70s, even 80s. People were dressed in T-shirts and jeans, indian clothing, formal dresses, workout clothes. While there were a few Krishna devotees, I would guess that the rest of the crowd, like myself, were yoga practitioners looking for a spiritual outlet. I highly doubt that many of them regularly practice any eastern religion. Even the priest at Trinity participated in the Kirtan. It isn’t about the gods whose names are chanted so much as it about spirituality.

I sat on the floor right in front of KD. Me and about 100 other people crammed into the front of the church. It was really close, although not as close to him as I had been sitting earlier in the day.

For those of you not familiar with Krishna Das, he is extremely well-known in the yoga community for yoga chant, or Kirtan. Traditionally, Kirtan is a devotional calling of the names of the Hindu gods. KD sings his chants (most of them) in Sanskrit, usually a call and response format. He plays the harmonium, a traditional Indian instrument. His accompanying musicians play drums, the tablas, the cymbals, and the violin. But there is no mistaking that KD is American. As he said, “I was Jewish on my parents’ side.” He brings his own American sensibility and rock and roll nature to the Sanskrit chants, thus making it more accessible to people of many different backgrounds.

Kirtan has become hot these days. KD played last night to a crowd of over 900 people. He himself said that the first time he came to Miami, he played in someone’s living room. Last night, people were turned away. 

Earlier in the day, he came to the yoga workshop I was attending at FIU. John Friend of Anusara yoga was in town, and they’re friends. KD came to our afternoon class and chanted the invocation with us. He came back today and led us in meditation. With his deep voice, he soothed us right into Savasana. Up close and personal, he is extremely humble and approachable. You would never know he is the same guy who played with Sting on his album Pilgrim Heart.

Last night was my second Kirtan of the week, and only my second Kirtan ever. Miami runs a little behind New York and LA on the spiritual front. But I can clearly see that things are looking up. The next time KD comes, it will probably have to be at the Arsht Center to accommodate the crowd!

Postscript: I apologize for the bad pictures. All I had was my cell phone.