book chat - The Magician's Elephant

"I wanted, I needed, I longed to tell a story of love and magic." - Kate DiCamillo

From this yearning came The Magician's Elephant by Kate DiCamillo. Goodness, what a wonderful writer. I feel lucky to be a reader of children's fiction, because I get to indulge in the wonder of the magnificent Kate DiCamillo. My book club finished The Tale of Despereaux yesterday and it was enjoyed by all. Every story she tells is magic. The magic of light, love, forgiveness, and empathy. The magic that is real.

The Magician's Elephant begins with a boy's visit to a fortune teller. He has felt the stirrings of hope and regret in his heart. He is an orphan, but despite what he has been told, he believes his little sister lives. He also feels a sorrow because she is lost in the world. The fortune teller answers that his sister is alive and that to find her he must follow the elephant. He knows then that he has wasted his money because there are no elephants!

Until a few nights later.....a magician is trying to make a bouquet of lilies appear and instead, an elephant comes crashing through the ceiling of the opera house.

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Have any of you ever dreamt of an elephant? My mom has. But this is not surprising, she's pretty neat. In The Magician's Elephant, an old nun tells us that dreaming of an elephant is portentous. I love this. I love the idea that we can see things in our dreams, find answers in our dreams, meditate in our dreams. Last year Alan Wallace came to the Rime Center to teach about lucid dreaming and dream yoga. Now of course, if you know me, you know I'm doing the best I can to sit still and breathe. My practice is watching my daughter grow and not shouting at my husband. But oh, wouldn't it be fun to dream of elephants!

Dharma LIVE! from the Bradfield house

My mother gave me a little present in honor of taking refuge vows. A tiny, pocket Dhammapada. (Non-Buddhist friends, it's like a book of Psalms.) Poetry, wisdom, truths to be unraveled.

It has already begun to work its wonder in my life.

Yesterday I trudged home with groceries to make dinner. When I got home I discovered that Brian had an important personal project that he needed to give his attention to, so the entire evening was my responsibility. The baby, dinner, picking up, all of it without help. As always, early evening is my difficult time. It has been since the beginning of my career as a mother. I have a lot of anxiety about dealing with the evening.

When I walked in the door I began to do one thing at a time. One of these things was changing my clothes. As I sat on the bed I picked up my tiny Dhammapada, opened it and read this: "Every man do his own work". It only took a few seconds to read it, and it meant nothing to me. Nothing.

I carried on with the evening, my chores, Ramona. As I did these things Brian sat on the couch and did nothing. Nothing to help me with my burden anyway. As I began to cook dinner, quickly, because it was time to nurse the baby, I felt the anger building. And building. I tried to shove it down. All the while thinking "Every man do his own work.....hmmmm.....every man do his own work". And also trying to not shout "Asshat....get in here and HELP ME!!!!".

Then I thought, "Would Brian helping change anything about how I feel? Would it take the anxiety away? Would it REALLY decrease my load?" The answer was No. And then I thought, I'm just going to do my own work. BINGO!!!!! I'm going to do my own work! I'm going to get done what I can. I'm going to do my own work and Brian can do his own work, whatever that happens to be. And then the anger went away for real and there was no self control needed. Nobody got called an "asshat" and nobody had to apologize.

Practice = Peace. This time, anyway.

refuge

It all began two years ago with a Box 'o World Religion Lectures. It was not a spiritual journey, it was academic. I couldn't deny that a lot of it sounded nuts to me. Friends, it still sounds pretty nuts to me. But it wasn't the celestial Buddhas that made this feel right for me. It was the simple teachings of suffering, attachment, nothing, and compassion that fit inside my heart. The story of the Buddha's middle path.

Today I made my vow to follow the Buddhist path. I don't know how I will be doing this. After all I have learned, I still don't know what I've gotten myself into.

Was it magic? No. Do I feel like I changed when Lama Chuck snapped his fingers? No. I'm the same old Nova. I'm the Nova that is worried that her baby isn't really asleep for the night. I'm the Nova with the broken down practice. While I was sitting on my cushion I looked around and I thought "I bet these people have shrines, I bet these people don't conduct their practice on their bathroom floor". Mothers, isn't the bathroom the only safe place sometimes? Brian knows I can't hear the baby in there, it's like going to the other world. It's a place of privacy. But still, I practice on my bathroom floor!

But I practice with a beginner's heart. My mind is an open pot. So, there's that.

I took the vow because it isn't a question of "am I going to follow the path or not", because I already have been. I don't know what kind of mother I would be without the dharma. I don't need to know, because it's always been there for me. A place of shelter, a place of protection. A place of Refuge. So, I took the vow today, but I had already taken refuge. No need for cold feet.

what you missed

Here's a quick recap of the week. All would have been blog-worthy.

Wednesday - Baby and Mama's first snow day. Ramona and I had a lovely day. We got nothing done, but we wore two layers of jammies and (sshhh....we watched tv a little).

Thursday - Got cold feet. Then put the darn socks on and shut up. Tomorrow I'm taking the plunge. Realize I will be taking it again and again. Here's to all of us that are daring to unwrap ourselves.

Friday - Became sick. Took the whole day off and sent baby to day care. I spent the whole day sleeping. Sometimes I would wake in starts because I thought I heard Ramona cry. The day was weird......good weird.

Saturday - Still sick, but determined to carry on. Took Ramona to see SANTA. She put her head back and stared into his face. We got her off his lap right before she pulled the glasses and beard off the poor guy. I hope she stays like this forever. Loving, daring, ready to look Santa straight into the face with no fear. Sometimes I can't believe she came from me. Then Brian and I took her Christmas shopping. For the first time we put her in the front of the cart and she had a ball. She was smiling and kicking her feet and acted like we were in some kind of holiday baby parade. Sheesh....I love that girl, I love that girl, I love that girl.

a rabbit named samsara

Moments ago I finished reading The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo and I'm a little fearful that I might be about to engage in the book blogger equivalent of drunk dialing. This book made me cry. More than any book I've read this year, this one has gotten the biggest emotional response from me.

It's a simple story about a toy rabbit that becomes lost and found, lost and found, lost and found. He lives a doll's life, which means that he has many lives. In the beginning he is a vain, cold little rabbit, but he learns to listen to the stories around him and he learns to love.

I think this book has gotten me in my heart today, because I have been looking for a way back to the dharma. It is easy to draw the comparisons between Edward and Samsara. Edward becomes tired of each new life, of weathering each new loss. He is broken down, giving up, until a friend tells him "You disappoint me. If you have no intention of loving or being loved the journey is pointless."


Yes, loving, yes, that is the point.

Haunted House/Spooky Samsara

There is this being called the hungry ghost. It's sort of a character in Tibetan Buddhism. This is supposedly an outcome of unfortunate rebirth.

I have been a hungry ghost. When I feel like punishing my husband with my sadness, when I can't engage my child because my face is flat, when I would rather be hungry than eat; I am a hungry ghost.

Last night, I scooped my baby up and we went to the bedroom and we played. We sang, danced, and bounced. We talked to our toys. She found mama's face had come back, and the ghost in me was chased off.

Every moment I am learning that it's never fixed for good. I will never clean my house and have it stay clean. The laundry will be done and undone. My marriage will not relocate to that place where it is permanently good. I will be reborn over and over again. Some mornings reborn with my Buddha nature shining through, then the next second reborn into a hungry ghost.

small, but growing

This morning I recalled some advice from a friend. The advice is 6 months old:

Nova: "My practice is small, but it's growing. However, I'm not a Tantra kind of person. A teacher said to my class "these modern times call for strong magic, Tantra gives us that", and that makes sense. But I still don't think it's for me. I don't know where to go next. I feel like I need a teacher, but I don't think I'm in the right place. But what other place is there?"

Nova's Friend: "Take Refuge Vows, Consider Your Heart, Practice. Then see what happens."

I didn't know what to do with that 6 months ago. This morning, maybe I do.
My commitment is small, but it's growing.

she shines pretty darn bright - aka Buddha Nature

In class, we were once asked to explain the difference between unattachment and indifference. I couldn't do it. I knew I wanted there to be a difference, but I just didn't understand. Now I know. Ramona is delightfully unattached. I drop her off at daycare. She smiles, I leave, she smiles some more. She holds something soft and wonderful in her hands, it goes away, she moves on. Does she love stuff? Oh yes, very much so. But she doesn't know how to hold on.

Every morning after I feed Ramona she puts her head back and stares at the room like she has never seen it before. This morning I gave her a big kiss on her softie baby cheek. She gave me this lovely happy/surprised look. Like she had never had a kiss in her life and it quite delighted her. "mommy, did you make that up?! Kissing!!" If I ever doubted that the purpose of life is to be happy, I believe it now.

This makes up for the fact that we have backtracked a bit in the quest to sleep through the night. Ramona has devoted her nights to diligently practicing turning over. She's doing it in her sleep and then waking herself up. This bugs me, but it has also inspired me. I wish I felt so driven to practice.

dog abuser

A teaching from the book Words of my Perfect Teacher (paraphrased by myself, who is far from perfect): Do not cause the suffering of someone that you hold authority over. It is especially important for you to be kind to those in a position lower than yourself. You know.....servants.....animals..........it’s bad karma to treat others badly. Period.

This brings us to our current dog/friend drama. Brian and I were sent a very condescending forward about treating your dogs well and the friend that sent it added this little note: “thought of you when I read this….dog abusers”. I was outraged. A texting war ensued. I believe I won when I called her a friend abuser.

Seriously people, if you are friends of new parents, do what you can for them. Love them, support them, and coo over their baby.

But also, if you are a very dear friend, call them on their shit. We have been treating our dog badly. I have been ignoring dear small Sophie, and treating her like an un-family member.

I’ve been hard on her to protect my baby……my responsibilities have me overwhelmed……we are fragile right now........ None of that matters when it comes to the karmic baggage I’m carrying around. And like all the endings of my posts…..I resolve to do better…..I resolve to do better…..I resolve to do better.