Becoming Truly Alive

I found this wonderful article in Buddha Dharma Magazine, the current issue. It is part of an article written by Thich Nhat Hanh. He is my favorite Buddhist writer. I have heard him speak a few times -- he is not a dynamic speaker -- he is about 80 years old now. But his books are excellent. He is prolific and has written dozens. What he describes below is what I aspire to. I fall way, way short most of the time. But isn't it compelling? Can you imagine really living like this?

"Would you do if your doctor told you that you only had three months to live? Would you waste this time bemoaning your fate? Would you give yourself over to pain and despair? Or would you resolve to live each moment of those three months in a deep way? If you do that, three months of life is a lot.

Some twenty years ago, a young man came to me and told me exactly this—that he had only three months to live. I asked him to sit down with me and have a cup of tea. “My friend,” I said to him, “you must drink this tea in such a way that life is possible. We must live this moment we have together in a deep way.”

One day is a lot. A picnic lasts only half a day, but you can live it fully, with a lot of happiness. So why not three months? Your life is a kind of picnic, and you should arrange it intelligently.

Someone I knew once said to his Buddhist teacher, “Master, I would like to go on a picnic with you.” The teacher was very busy, so he replied, “Sure, sure, we’ll go on a picnic one of these days.” Five years later they still hadn’t had the picnic.

One day the master and the disciple were on some business together, and they found themselves caught in a traffic jam. There were so many people in the street that the master asked the disciple, “What are all these people doing?” The disciple saw that it was a funeral procession. He turned to the master and said, “They’re having a picnic.”

Don’t wait to start living. Live now! Your life should be real in this very moment. If you live like that, three months is a lot! You can live every moment of every day deeply, in touch with the wonders of life. Then you will learn to live, and, at the same time, learn to die. A person who does not know how to die does not know how to live, and vice versa. You should learn to die—to die immediately. This is a practice.

Are you ready to die now? Are you ready to arrange your schedule in such a way that you could die in peace tonight? That may be a challenge, but that’s the practice. If you don’t do this, you will always be tormented by regret. If you don’t want to suffer, if you don’t want to be torby regret, the only solution is to live every minute you are given in a deep way. That’s all there is to it. The only way to deal with insecurity, fear, and suffering is to live the present moment in a profound way. If you do that, you will have no regrets.

Excerpted from the Winter 2009 issue of Buddhadharma: The Practitioner's Quarterly, available on newsstands November 17th.

THICH NHAT HANH is a Vietnamese Zen master, scholar, author, poet, and peace activist. In 1966 he founded the Order of Interbeing, a community of monastics and laypeople with monasteries and practice centers around the world. At age 83, he resides at his Plum Village Monastery in southern France, while continuing to travel abroad to teach. This article is from his new book You Are Here: Discovering the Magic of the Present Moment, 2009, excerpted with permission from Shambhala Publications.

Jet Pack

Here is Mark, sporting his new "jet pack", aka leaf blower. For years I have teased him about all the stuff that he buys, but you don't hear me complaining that it took just a few hours for him to clean up the yard -- while I stayed happily in the studio. He recently also bought me a whole array of lights for my bike -- another thing I would typically tease him about, but they sure came in handy tonight. I biked from the clinic to the place I now teach prenatal yoga. I felt much safer riding in the dark.

The class went much more smoothly tonight. I have 8 students. One is Dutch, another German, a Canadian and a Brazilian. The rest are American. I had a much easier time with pacing and sequencing. I felt quite rusty last week. Teaching prenatal yoga has always been a happy thing, I have always thoroughly enjoyed it. So that also makes my life feel more "normal".

I feel so fortunate to be able to re-arrange my life in a way that is even more in line with my values. I'm thrilled to spend more time in an artist community again, to have more studio time. I may even go out less so I can spend more time in the studio. I will start to move in on Wednesday. My sister said she'd bring the Angels along to "help". They are also very excited because they love to make art together.

Hang Gliding in Rio

While we're out here in the country, clocking huge hours of sleep, Lucy is hang gliding in Rio. I was delighted to open my email this morning to this image of her (and some hunk of a guy) gliding over the breathtaking beachscape of Rio.

It's been a low-key weekend. I will be in a show on Saturday so am collecting up small paintings and collage to take back to the city with us tonight. I will also be moving into my studio in East Boston so am deciding which supplies will be where.

I joined Facebook a week ago and have to agree with Mark -- it is the biggest waste of time imaginable. I have collected many "friends" but what I see posted is pretty much nonsense. Fun stuff, yes, but worth the extra online time? I felt like a lemming, not wanting to be left out, but I'm not sure I was missing much of anything. (No offense to Facebook junkies or aficionados!)

Mountains Beyond Mountains

We're in the country, having a low-key weekend. I'm pretty tired. We just got back from a 4-mile walk. It gets dark so early now. The air is cold and fresh here. Everything in the garden has quit, even the horseradish. Mark brought in the blueberry nets. He also bought yet another "toy", a leaf blower. We have a huge yard and I have yet to help with raking. So he really deserves some help -- hence the new toy.

Karma and Jeff are away for the weekend, as are Lucy and Rick -- they are in Rio de Janeiro drinking caipirinhas on the beach. Lucy intends to go paragliding while she's there. I wish I could go, too!

I started reading "Mountains Beyond Mountains" a few days ago. Initially I wasn't so drawn in, but now it is such a compelling story. The writing is intelligent, too.

I spent most of today in the studio. A happy, productive day.

Supta virasana

Today was Zoey's birthday, my sister's youngest. She is very happy to be 4. This year she asked for a Hannah Montana doll and a Ken doll to go with her. Being the auntie, I told her I would get them both. She has been very excited the last few days about these dolls. I made a panicked phone call from Target the other day because I thought that Hannah Montana was from Barbie, not Disney. Fortunately I got it right and we had a nice little family party.

After that I went to a late yoga class (at least late for me). Much to my disappointment, Peentz wasn't there. The class was subbed by Marysia who is a good friend. We trained together for a few years in Iyengar teacher training, starting in 1996. She gave a good class. I was humbled -- very much so. The first pose was supta virasana. Imagine sitting on your heels, but with your bottom on the floor and your feet on either side of your hips. Like little kids sit when they watch tv. Even "back in the day" I was unable to sit in that pose, much less lie down without a lot of props. The last few days my right ankle has been extremely swollen, making the pose even more impossible. This is a challenging body to live in these days. I told the nurse practicioner about my ankle yesterday and she said that after radiation you can get lymphedema anywhere in your body. Because of the radiation to my hip, I am getting it in the ankle. I look like an old lady whose ankle puffs over the top of her shoes. Not very attractive, that's for sure. Fortunately it doesn't bother me unless in an extreme yoga pose. Humility, patience, acceptance now.

Code cart

Here is a photo I took from 8th Avenue, just across from Port Authority. I love buildings so NYC is a great place to be for that.

I just got back from my appointment. Everything is most excellent -- calcium levels are totally normal. As I was getting infused (hooked up to an IV with a bag of medicine dripping into my vein for 15 minutes), the patient next to me began to feel dizzy. Next thing I knew he was losing consciousness with extremely low blood pressure and pulse, so the nurse called the code cart. It was scary to witness. They gave him some IV fluids and his vitals stabilized after a bit. Metta now. I hope he is OK. I overheard everything -- kind of hard not to as we were about 3 feet from each other. He is undergoing chemo and was scheduled for a treatment today. I will send him metta during practice tomorrow when I pray for cancer patients.

The rest of the day I will play hookey. I really should go to work but have decided to take the rest of the day off. I'll meet up with Lucy for lunch and will deliver a painting to a gallery. Later in the afternoon I'll meet up with Cynthia for an early movie and dinner.

Funky Fence/Visuality

Here are some photos that I took in the East Village over the weekend. This is a very funky fence between 2 buildings, fronting an abandoned lot. Although I don't usually take my camera around the city on a regular basis, I'd like to. The world is full of curious visuality. That's a made-up word but I like it.

Last night I taught my first yoga class in 15 months. One of the students was returning for her second pregnancy. She took my class in spring 2008. I always love returning students -- it is reassuring that I am offering something of value. I was nervous as anticipated and got through the poses much quicker than I thought, so had to improvise the last 20 minutes or so. But considering, it went fine. Not excellent, but good enough. This is an 8 week course, ending December 21.

So today it back to work. No a whole lot to say other than it was cool today and great temperature for biking, in the 50's. As our clocks just moved back 1 hour, it was totally dark as I left the clinic so I am even more careful about the traffic and pedestrians. Mark said he'd get me some additional lights -- you really can't have too many. During lunch I went to Target and got a Hannah Montana and Ken doll for Zoey who turns 4 on Thursday. She is very excited about this special gift request. They are sick tonight so we are unable to see each other which is always disappointing.

Tomorrow is my monthly oncology visit. It is amazing what you get used to. I never imagined that I would ever see an oncologist, and now I see one every month. It is still kind of strange sometimes, my medical reality. Tomorrow I will see the nurse practicioner, Ann. I feel fine so don't anticipate anything unusual -- blood draw, physical exam then infusion of Zometa and injection of Lupron. Pronto.