Archive for February, 2010
A Little Buddhist Dharma Post Today
February 18th, 2010 | 
Author: 
Buddha Statue from Afghanistan
With the tragedies in Haiti, Mongolia, Africa, Afghanistan, Iraq…..well, the list is endless really, one begins to wonder if it really can ever end. The Buddha teaches that it can, but must begin with our own ending of hatred within our own hearts. This was sent to me today and so beautiful I thought to share it with you.
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This poem by Thich Nhat Hanh embodies the essence of what he calls “interbeing,” the innerconnectedness of all things.
Call Me by My True Names
by Thich Nhat Hanh
From: Peace is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life by Thich Nhat Hanh
In Plum Village, where I live in France, we receive many letters from the refugee camps in Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, and the Philippines, hundreds each week. It is very painful to read them, but we have to do it, we have to be in contact. We try our best to help, but the suffering is enormous, and sometimes we are discouraged. It is said that half the boat people die in the ocean. Only half arrive at the shores in Southeast Asia, and even then they may not be safe.
There are many young girls, boat people, who are raped by sea pirates. Even though the United Nations and many countries try to help the government of Thailand prevent that kind of piracy, sea pirates continue to inflict much suffering on the refugees. One day we received a letter telling us about a young girl on a small boat who was raped by a Thai pirate. She was only twelve, and she jumped into the ocean and drowned herself.
When you first learn of something like that, you get angry at the pirate. You naturally take the side of the girl. As you look more deeply you will see it differently. If you take the side of the little girl, then it is easy. You only have to take a gun and shoot the pirate. But we cannot do that. In my meditation I saw that if I had been born in the village of the pirate and raised in the same conditions as he was, there is a great likelihood that I would become a pirate. I saw that many babies are born along the Gulf of Siam, hundreds every day, and if we educators, social workers, politicians, and others do not do something about the situation, in twenty-five years a number of them will become sea pirates. That is certain. If you or I were born today in those fishing villages, we may become sea pirates in twenty-five years. If you take a gun and shoot the pirate, all of us are to some extent responsible for this state of affairs.
After a long meditation, I wrote this poem. In it, there are three people: the twelve-year-old girl, the pirate, and me. Can we look at each other and recognize ourselves in each other? The tide of the poem is “Please Call Me by My True Names,” because I have so many names. When I hear one of the of these names, I have to say, “Yes.”
Call Me by My True Names
Do not say that I’ll depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive.
Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and
death of all that are alive.
I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time
to eat the mayfly.
I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond,
and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence,
feeds itself on the frog.
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to
Uganda.
I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea
pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and
loving.
I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my
hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his “debt of blood” to, my
people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.
My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all
walks of life.
My pain if like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.
Thich Nhat Hanh
Why bother to paint?
She wrote: “I have a common problem. Even though I paint wonderful paintings (if I do say so myself) I don’t seem to be able to see a good reason or better yet, a purpose for doing them. How do I find my true passion in painting? That’s my question. Thanks, Peni.”
I was away painting for a week and mulled this over while I was out there. Here are a few thoughts that bubbled up to the surface…
Little Moments
Our life is a collection of little moments which slip by so quickly when we don’t notice them. The act of painting allows you to be very present in the moment, whether it’s struggling or soaring, you’re right there – present. When you aren’t in the present is when the painting goes bad. Enjoy the moment.
What is the purpose in painting?
What is the purpose in anything? It’s THE question. What reason? Ask me on different days and one day there will be no purpose, no reason, and the next day there will be the pure joyful purpose of living and experiencing. I use goals to get me from the hard days through to the easy days. Goals propel me forwards even when there is no reason for them to do so. Sometimes I think having no purpose at all is the purest form of being. Does a tree worry for tomorrow? Does the finger painting child worry for the purpose of their painting?
FINDING your Passion
What FILLS you with passion? Write a list of 5 or more things. Is it visiting a new place at sunset? Meditating? Running down sand dunes? Romantic times? Flying? Diving into turquoise waters? Praying? Running through the shallows? Dancing? Find those things and build more of them into your life – make lists, have goals, dream dreams, have a calendar on your wall with big green ticks in it for the days you’ve done something that moves you, leave stickers around the house which remind you to get your passion shot for the day, get friends on the same mission helping you helping them, read inspiring books and movies, listen to live music, follow that tingly feeling where EVER it may lead you. “Painting is like the cornerstone in a great arch. It takes the pressure of the day and holds all things together.”
- Deborah Strandberg
Lost and Found
We are ALL on the hormone rollercoaster, and those of us who do fly a little higher invariably sink lower too, despite outward appearances. The entire Universe is designed on the basis of ebb and flow, so it’s little wonder that our days and weeks and years follow the same pattern. We can’t expect to live passionately all the time, but our consolation in the quiet hollows can be that we know we won’t remain their long – we’re just gaining momentum for the upward swing.
PAINTING with Passion
Aristotle said, “The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance.” What is significant to you about your subject or concept? Find the thing you love most about the subject or concept, and focus on that feeling – let everything in the painting and in your experience of creating the painting be an expression of that feeling. One of my favorite moments is sitting back with a coffee and absorbing a freshly finished painting – seeing how my passion translated itself into paint. If the translation is garbled their is inevitably disappointment, but if the translation is true the coffee seems to taste extra good.
Ooh, I’m all inspired! Better stop before I write a book.
Hope that helps in some way – it helped me.
Posted in Learning to Paint | 
Tags: Dharma, learn to paint, meditation, oil painting, painting | 
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