All About My Vagina

Well, it was all about my vagina this week. We perfomed The Vagina Monologues by Eve Ensler this past weekend in my small mountain community. It was a wonderful week of meeting new women from all different backgrounds, who shared the same goal: to bring awareness to our communtiy on women's issues and domestic violence. Every year, thousands of women gather in small numbers and perform this play, which is a series of nonfiction monologues from 200 women whom Eve Ensler interviewed. The topic, their vaginas.

This year, the spotlight campaign is in the Democrat Republic of the Congo, where thousands of women and girls are subjected to rape on a daily basis. Proceeds from perfomances will go to these women and children so that the violence will stop.

It was an honor and a privilege to participate as The Woman Who Loved to Make Vaginas Happy.

Please check out the VDay website to find a performance near you. If you missed it this year, then start planning for next year. One person can make a difference!

http://www.vday.org/vgirl.html

My Dog, Sadie: That Buddhist Attachment Thing

I'm receiving my first lesson on attachment this week. The Buddhists believe that it is important to not attach yourself to things. Why? I haven't a friggin' clue. I just know that I'm feeling some serious heartache this week because of  decision I've made. I have decided to find a foster home for my dog, Sadie. The Zen Center does not allow people to bring their animals with them. I didn't even try to sell them the dozens of reasons why I should be the exception to the rule. I'm sure they've heard it all before.

This is kharma biting me in the ass. Big time.
Twenty years ago, when I moved to Alaska to serve as a VISTA Volunteer (the domestic Peace Corp), I left behind a beautiful dog, Tasha. She was a gorgeous huskie/rotweiller mix. I convinced myself that a friend of mine would take the dog, even though she had not fully committed to it. If nothing else, my father would take care of her. But my friend never fully committed to taking Tasha, and my father was still getting over my mother's death. The house brought up too many painful memories for him, so he was barely around. I was also connvinced that I would return home after a year and take Tasha back. Little did I know that when I boarded that plane to Seattle that morning, I was saying goodbye to my life in New England and saying hello to my new life on the west coast. I haven't been back east since then.

My brother, David, ended up finding an adoption family for Tasha. David, the "responsible" one (well, if I were to be brutally honest, all three of my brothers are the "responsible" ones, which made me, the youngest, the "irresponsible" one back then), found a dog adoption agency that set Tasha up with a family. Apparently, Tasha was very happy when she met her new family. For years, I fantasized about kidnapping Tasha from this family. I visualized myself casing the neighborhood for a week, monitoring their daily routines, until I devised a strategy to dognap Tasha right out from under their noses. The kids would get over it. Tasha and I belonged together.

Tasha was my "sober" dog. I got her when I was seventeen. In a moment of weakness, my parents said I could have her. She was there for me unconditionally, like most dogs are. But she had a wild streak to her, like most huskies do. Like me back then, she would disappear for 24 hours, returning the next day, exhausted and hungover from her chicken-chasing night. (She actually had a taste for Rhode Island Red roosters. I, on the other hand, had a taste for Wild Turkey). It was almost impossible to walk her. Her huskie instincts insisted that she do all the pulling. (I used to get on my skateboard and let her pull me around the neighborhood). I never trusted taking her off the leash on our walks because she would take off. Eventually, when I was 22, I decided to get sober.

Tasha, I learned, became a good gauge for my sobriety. Part of my sober living required daily exercise. My AA sponsor insisted that I take Tasha for walks on a daily basis. This is something I did not do while I was drinking. So when I got sober, I walked Tasha every night. For the first weeks, I had her on the leash. It was a nightmare. I got sober in February, so there was snow on the ground. She pulled me all over the snowy, icy roads. Plus, I grew up in a small town in New England, the perfect setting for a dog to run free. But I was too young and too delusional about thinking I was "in control" of my dog. Really, I can see it was my lack of trust in Tasha and my lack of understanding that a dog needs to be trained first in order to be controlled. Eventually, as my mind began to mellow out, I began to let Tasha off the lead. And, in due time, Tasha responded positively to my training. In essence, we both got sober together (though I was never able to find a twelve step program for her Rhode Island Red rooster addicition).

After a year of getting sober, I decided to follow a dream. I moved to Alaska. And I left Tasha behind. I never did dognap her from that nice family who adopted her. I made amends to Tasha by making a commitment to only get a dog when I would be living in a stable home of my own, where there is a big yard, plenty of room for a dog. Over the next fifteen years, I was tempted more than once to get a dog. But I had to remind myself of that commitment I made. It wasn't until five years ago when my (now ex) girlfriend decided to get a dog. Even then, I was reluctant. I'm grateful that my ex insisted that we get a dog. (Her subtle attempts such as cutting out photos of abandoned dogs and putting them onto the refrigerator helped with the decision to get a dog).

So we got a puppy, Sadie. A beautiful black lab with shepard mix. We raised her. We trained her. We built a fence around the yard so she had plenty of room to run. Eventually, we got her a friend, Maxi. Two dogs now. Two happy dogs in a big yard with two owners that poured their hearts out to them. Then, we got a divorce. She got Maxi, I got Sadie. I moved into a new place where the landlords permitted me to build a dog run for Sadie. For a while, I dropped Sadie off at my old house every morning before I went to work. Then, I picked her up in the afternoon. She got to hang out with Maxi all day. It was like doggy day care. But that eventually stopped. Then, I took in a friend's dog for a year. Then, that dog went back to my friend. But it's always been me and Sadie.

Sadie and I are ridiculously inseparable. I'm sure any psychologist would have a field day analyzing my relationship with Sadie. She's well trained, but I do let her sleep in my bed with me. We spoon. She grumbles in the middle of the night when I make her move over. It's really quite pathetic. But she has literally saved me a lot of money in electricity bills these past two winters from her furry body heater. When I leave for a trip, I make sure the dog sitter has plenty of treats for Sadie. I spend more money on her vet bills than I do my own doctor's bills.

When I was up at the Zen Center last week, it became glaringly clear to me that in order for me to move forward in my life, I will need to give up Sadie. I'm hoping this is temporary. The families that I am meeting with are aware of this. But, realistically, it could be permanent. When I became aware of this reality, I felt a deep, deep sadness in my heart. But it was a healthy sadness, if that makes any sense. I am grateful that I am being graced with the opportunity to handle this situation differently twenty years later. Today, I have to do something fundamentally different from when I let Tasha go. Today, I have to feel the feelings. It's that simple. It's that painful. But the pain won't kill me. Nor will it kill Sadie.

I know that there is a family out there that is the perfect match for Sadie. And I still do cling to the hope that I will have her back in my life some day. But when it became clear to me that it was only Sadie who was holding me back from taking this big step in my life, I realized that I cannot live my life for my dog. I have a feeling that I will be doing some international humanitarian work in the next year or two. When looking at the bigger picture, I need to honor my spiritual path. It hurts like hell. I love this dog more than anything else with a heartbeat in my life today. This "attachment" lesson is a bitch. But apparently, the whole idea of attachment revolves around the notion that if we are truly "at one" with everything in out lives, than we truly do not "crave" things. Because it is the "craving", the "wanting" that gets us into trouble. Well, it causes the "suffering" that we hear Buddhists referring to so often.

I just need to remind myself that Sadie will not be suffering in my absence. Her favorite game is chasing after pine cones. As long as someone is kicking a pine cone in her direction and scratching her behind the ears, she will be "at one" with the universe. Knowing that puts my mind at ease. It gets me to other side of my own selfish suffering. She has endless pine cones coming her way. That makes my heart smile. That's something I can attach myself to.

Jizo Bodhisattva. My New Decade!

When I returned from my trip back east over the holidays, I told myself that I would write a new year’s resolution blog, committing to one blog entry a week. I forgot to tell myself when I would write that “commitment” blog post. So here I am, March 14, 2010, writing the first entry of the New Year. Hell, the New Decade!


A lot has happened these past several months. Well. Conversely, a lot has not happened these past several months. But a lot of the “not happenings” is what has created the “happenings”. Sound zen? Bingo! I’ve been meditating a lot lately. The Buddhists call it zazen, which simply means “sitting”. And that’s what I’ve been doing a lot of since October, but it has really expanded since returning from my trip back east over the holidays. I’ve become quite involved with the Jizo Peace Center in my town, Pine Mountain. For the past year, a friend of mine has been saying, “Caren, you need to check out the Jizo Peace Center.” Finally, a year later, I checked it out. And I can honestly say that I haven’t been able to look at the world the same since my introduction to Jizo; For better, for worse.

Jizo is a Japanese Buddhist deity; a bodhisattva, which means an enlightened being. The Catholics have their saints, the Buddhists have their bodhisattvas. I use the Catholics/Saints comparison because, for the first time in my life, I can understand how certain individuals are not only drawn to certain saints, but how they pray to them and rely heavily on that particular saint for guidance during specific periods in their life. Jizo has had a profound impact on my life this year. He/she (Jizo is gender fluid) has carried me through some dark times recently.

Jizo is the protector of children, travelers, and firefighters. Historically speaking, Jizo’s tale began in India, as Kshitigarbha Bodhivattsa:

At the time of Buddha’s death, Buddha said “I have worked hard for many kalpas to liberate obstinate living beings. Those who have not yet understood the Dharma will surely fall into states of suffering.” Kshitigarbha Bodhivattsa said, “Even if their good deeds are as little as hair, a drop of water, a grain of sand, a mote of dust, or a bit of down, I shall gradually help living beings to liberation. World Honored One, do not feel distressed over beings in generations to come.” He repeated this vow three times. Shakyamuni Buddha was delighted and said, “My blessings. I appreciate your strong vows and praise you for your efforts to heal the human world. When you fulfill this great vow after many kalpas, you will become a Buddha.” (From the Sutra of the Past Vows of Earth Store Bodhivattsa).

Without getting into too many details, it has been a challenging year for me. Unemployment is an ass-kicker. The only time I have felt at peace this year has been when I’ve been in zazen, talking about Jizo, or getting outside of myself to be of service to others. I have been attending weekly zazen at the Jizo Peace Center since October, but I sit on my own every morning. But it didn’t occur to me until recently that Jizo has imbibed herself in me this year because I am a woman in transition. Jizo protects people in transition. (He is a protector of firefighters because he has the strength to enter the realms of hell to save people from eternal life there). It never occurred to me that I’ve been in “transition”, but the truth is, I’ve been in a huge transition these past two years. Divorce, job ending (possible career change), and even some health problems, which I have been able to address in a positive way. Jizo has been there for me. Very much so. And I feel such gratitude towards Jizo.

In zazen, one still moment at a time, I have been gaining clarity on my life’s purpose. My new decade.

I’ve heard that praying is talking to God and meditating is listening to God. Well, what I am “hearing” these days is that I need to be of service on a deeper level. Maybe I’m supposed to be in Haiti, maybe I’m supposed to start a business where the money will go to Haiti, who knows? (Though Haiti is the image that keeps repeating itself to me while I’m sitting). But one thing I do know is that I am not alone. I am being guided by Jizo these days.

By slowing down and listening, I made reservations to attend a Jizo workshop in Marin this past February. Ruth Handy, the founder of the Jizo Peace Center, encouraged me to do this. I was stressed about not being able to attend because of money. But the woman who ran the workshop, Tova Green, a Zen priest, called me (after I called to cancel my reservation), and said that she would be willing to waive the fee). So I went. And it was great. Then, again…at the workshop. By slowing down and listening, I heard Tova say to me, “You sound very curious about the San Francisco Zen Center. You should check it out as a guest student”. So, I did just that. I returned yesterday from an intensive one-week guest student experience at the Zen monastery in San Francisco. The day begins at 5 a.m. with zazen, and ends around 9pm with dharma talks.

After sitting in zazen all week, by slowing down and listening, it became apparent to me that I was gaining more clarity. It was a terrific experience (exhausting as well!), especially being part of the sangha (community). I met with some zen students, teachers and priests, and have since applied for an intensive six-week practice period in May/June.

Is this something I would have seen myself doing a year ago? Hell, no! But a year ago, my mind was too filled up with outside “junk” for me to stop and listen to the stillness within me. It’s terrifying, but I’ve learned that when I feel the fear inside of me, that fear is a strong form of energy that carries a lot of power. It’s my own power. And it’s my choice to do with it what I want. It’s a new decade. And I have Jizo by my side. What’s to fear?