I had a dream that I was traveling and I kept losing my baggage, and not finding the right bus to the train station. 

Number 6 meditator joined us today. I had a powerful meditation, crying. Shams reports he had 5 people show up for an earlier meditation group. He doesn't want to name the sangha yet, no names leap to mind yet. 

There's a women's protest Saturday in NYC.

In college I joined the protest to get divestiture in South Africa to end apartheid.

In NYC I protested against a group that came to NYC to protest abortions.  

Cranky

 

Waiting to get back to that playful attitude. Shams says I'm cranky. 

Fascinating discussion of the Tang versus Song dynasty in China on Reddit. I've been posting about Tang dynasty poets here. 

Feel guilty I didn't connect with Shams yesterday. Busy with my daughter and fell asleep. I think guilt is a positive emotion about friendship, but alas you can't change the past, and you can't steamroll yourself completely with friendship. It exists in the comfort paces, not in the struggle spaces, except when you're struggling in school, or sports. I guess meditation is a struggle space of sorts, although with a lot more relaxing and not trying. The urge to do more for your friend shows the connection. I'm trying to redirect him to writing in his journal, and doing the other coping skills to deal with insomnia. He has insomnia and basically didn't sleep last night. 

Today is the 46th anniversary of the 16th of January, 1979. This was the day Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi and the rest of the Imperial family boarded a plane at Mehrabad Airport and left Iran, with the Shah spending the rest of his days in exile.

 

The culmination of Brahma Viharas, just sitting, anapanasati, 6 element is a devotional practice of Buddhanasati. I chant the shakyamuni mantra, and visualize the Buddha, try to feel his presence, permission, encouragement, feel his influence across time. The historical Buddha is just as mythological at this point, and we have the support of the Pali Canon. After meditation, I will read the words. 

I chant the mantra silently in my head, but today I did it aloud. Trying new things, apply mindfulness to how it worked out. I like it being private, and I like it being aloud, I'm going to try it more often, and try to discern when which is appropriate. In the winter, with the dry air, the throat stress might not be as appropriate. As much as my exhibitionist narcissism draws me to blog, I like private hidden secret practice. The vibrations in my chest certainly is something, not nothing.

Ajaan Jai Cundo would just say "Buddho" in his mind over and over, with the breath. The Shakyamuni mantra is longer, has a different feel. 

We don't know what the Buddha looked like, so I have a generic image of a human, based on rupas and pictures around me. It's more about the feeling and the vibrations of the mantra.

Been thinking about how when I was in the Chicago Field Museum and I saw some statues of the Buddha, that I felt like prostrating to them. I feel that at the Met museum in NYC too. 

Shams suggested I practice self compassion. The disharmony I feel with my ex, I brush it off, but it really affects me, pulls me down. I can't let it. Brushing it off, I underestimate it's impact, talking to a friend I realize I'm letting the negativity impact me, and I need to counter it more. I love and respect my ex, but I must not take her utterances and use them for negativity. That is my job.

I took Shams on a video walk to pick up Ruby. He talked with my friend Fareed, who speaks Afghanistan Farsi, but there were technical difficulties so Fareed couldn't hear him. It didn't switch over off my headphones, and was on 1% battery. 

People in the city put shades over their windows, they've looked into others places, and don't want that happening. I've got nothing to hide, and I like looking over my shoulder, out the window, to the waning moon. 

The 6 element meditation is a dismantling meditation, not to be done lightly, you need to have mental stability and support. 

I just pooped, so earth flows into me, earth flows out of me, it's not me, it's not mine is easy. I take a sip of coffee, water flows into me, flows out of me, it's not me, it's no mine. Energy (fire) comes into me, comes out of me, it's not me, it's not mine. I get energy from the immortals when I do devotion, chant a mantra, chant a puja. Air flows into me, flows out of me, it's not me, it's not mine. I am a devout member of the cult of the breath, so this one triggers a lot. In this one I don't go off on flights of fancy, but see how air is not me and not mine even though it's essential to my existence. Cult isn't a bad word for me, it's not always drinking poisoned knock off kool aid or enabling a tin pot authoritarian felon. In service of mindfulness it is good. Space is more nefarious, but when I'm doing the brahma viharas I shoot metta out into infinite space, so it's a more rarefied concept. Consciousness is everything, memes and Buddha-nature. I'm not so great for understanding great lines of thought from the past. 

My ex is forcing a narrative onto me that is false, but there is a verisimilitude, at times. I'm no longer going to respond to accusations if she has no shame, to not apologize when it's wrong. 

Texting Shams about the fires in LA and what English words mean. He likes memes so I'm on the lookout for white hot memes. Here is one he sent me. 

Here is one he made, Shams is a memer, maybe even a memelord. The Farsi word is introvert:

The Dune movies are pretty good. The first movie is leaving Netflix in the USA at the end of the month. 

Social media is dubious a net gain, but I'm liking #thicktrunktuesday on Bluesky. 

Morning:

I look online for stimulation. I read a little Rumi biography by Gooch, and then meditate for 64 minutes. Today I skipped a just breath stage, and then in the end I focused on relinquishment. I've been thinking a lot about how I crave stimulation and would it be to my benefit to stimulate myself less?

I wake up in the dark and see a weird light casting through the window. It's the full moon. The full moon is behind me when I meditate, I turn to look a few times. 

Breakfast:

I cook the spinach leaves, they're supposed to be good cooked. The cook down to a small amount so I overwhelm the skillet. Then chopped up cabbage mix, then already cooked potatoes, then raisins, and a clove of garlic. Then jerk seasoning. Often I add curry and cayenne pepper, but today I just wanted pure jerk seasoning. Subtraction is a spice palate in my world. Not bad. 

Qiji

Qiji (863-937) wrote more than 852 poems, after Li Bai (701-762), Du Fu (712-770), Bai Juyi (772-846), Yuan Zhen (779-831), he ranks at the fifth position in terms of numbers of poems within the Tang poets.

Wikipedia: Qiji was born Hu Desheng in 863, in Zuta Village, Weishan Township, Ningxiang, Hunan, to a family of tenant farmers. At the age of 6, he learned writing while grazed cattle for the Tongdu Temple on the mountain. He took refuge in the Three Jewels (became a monk) under Yangshan Huiji (807-883). As Adult, he went out to study and travelled to Yueyang, Changan, Zhongnan Mountains, Mount Huashan, and Jiangxi. When he returned to Changsha, Xu Dongye, a poet in the office of Hunan military governor, said: "The poems we write are not good enough. We can't compare the poems you write." In 921, Qiji went to Sichuan via Jingzhou, Gao Jixing (858-929), formally Prince Wuxin of Chu, urged Qiji to stay at Longxing Temple and appointed him as abbot. He died at the age of 76 in Jiangling County, Jingzhou, Hubei.

Poems:

right and wrong gain and loss each hard to picture clearly

so I began to study wisdom of the ancents willy-nilly

but closed the books I'd double up with laughter

and have to get up pace the floor and rub my belly

Poems with discussion.

Poems with discussion.