tom-collingwood

Walking slow

I used to hate the rush hour when commuting on London’s tubes. It wasn’t being cramped as such, I’m fine with personal space invasions to a point. It was the *rush* – people having to push to get off at their stop. Worse still, people bustling others for a chance to catch that next train. Is there a sort of selfishness in their self-serving rush and rampant overtaking? I do wonder that in fury when I’m in a mood. Do they really need to cut those few seconds in your speed-walk? I suppose they might really do, or they could wake up 15 minutes earlier.

I plod a long, a stone in the current, people passing by. I may be in the way when I stop to look for directions. I try to practice not judging the rushers, the hustlers and the busters. Let them pass, but I’ll pass on being caught up with them.

But I often do; the train is departing! I am so close, if I just pick up the pace and dodge that woman I could make it! The stress is just not worth it. I don’t feel a sense of achievement if I do make it, only the sweat trapped in my shirt and the guilt of having got in the way or abandoned my sense of calm. If I don’t… well I am disappointed and effort is wasted.

Don’t have to face any of these dilemmas now. Interesting to reflect on those moments, now they are over a year old. So long commutes, if they return I hope I can face them with a bit of equanimity.

Up: the sky

Up: the sky.
Down: the earth.
Left: a tree.
Right: a friend.
Back: the bench.
Front: the grass.

Up: the ceiling.
Down: feet.
Left: a window.
Right: a wall.
Back: a shelf.
Front: a laptop.

Up: wood.
Down: plush.
Left: wood.
Right: wood.
Back: wood.
Front: wood.

First name basis

Morning Burt, how are the roses?
Hey Claire, you okay?
Hi Lily, congratulations!
Hello Mr. Williams, your tea is ready.

Shelly! Not in the house!
Izzy, can you not?
Ruben, feet off couch.
Chris, not now.

I love you, Phil!
You’re so kind, Alex.
My pleasure, Ash.
Thank you, Hank!

That’s a great point, Jade.
Couldn’t have said it better, Rory!
I agree with you there, Tom.
Exactly, Connor! Exactly!

You insist upon hurting me, Ollie.
Ravi. It affects me too, you know!
The audacity, Cam, the audacity!
Jesse… at least say goodbye!

I’ll be leaving now Mr. Williams, goodbye.
See you Lily, thanks again!
Bye Claire. You know where to find me.
Evening Burt. See you tomorrow.

Reminder to self

I walk to get there,
I work to buy that,
I watch to learn this,
I work out to date them.

I go there to be on time,
I buy that to have fun,
I learn this to feel smarter,
I date to have children.

Everything done should have purpose,
Everything done should have aim,
Everything done should be productive,
Everything done has a point.

I walk just to walk,
I work just to work,
I watch just to watch,
I work out just to work out.

I go there because I am going there.
I buy that because I am buying that.
I learn this because I am learning this.
I date because I am dating.

Somethings done can be done with no purpose in mind,
Somethings done can have no aim,
Somethings done don’t have to be productive or efficient,
Somethings done have no point and don’t have to have one.

How does anything get done with those somethings?

how to iambic

A game, a play, how fun. Invite me? Yes please!
Of games; my brain follows quite slow, no yes!
Wander to sleep, wonder to wake, yes no.
No trust, all sus. Beware! Go out, careful.
A form my eyes do see. A ghost, I fear.

Right there, it looks and feels like a willow,
But it does move and sway like the ocean.
There is no right, no wrong, in the word game.
Beauty, allure, glamor, polish, critique.

This is a site for my verbal vomit,
No one must read, some one might read, no bother!
I let my brain seep out onto this post.
Practice practice practice practice practice.

This did once start as utter nonsense, but now;
I do edit, to fit a metric line.
Tis fun, tis fun, enjoy I do. But really:
I just sound less Shakespeare, more Yoda.

Haiku Collection #1

Sitting on the couch,
I sip tea, turn to my friend,
I say “This is nice”

The bell rings out: “bong”,
I smile and stretch my legs out.
Meditation done.

Alarm rings aloud,
Says: wake up, wake up, wake up.
I drift back to sleep.

Oh! I remember,
This moment, to be here now.
Now: rising, falling

Mindfully I chop,
I stretch and bang my head: “SHIT!”
Not so holy now…

Who is the witness?
Who experiences this?
Who does not know? Me!

Lost in thought, theory…
Never meditating then…
Only reading lots.

Hmm, am I manic?
Or am I progressing well?
Neither, both, be mindful.

I write these poems,
Always aware of my pride,
Squash it, kill it, splat!

Squash it, kill it, splat!
Stop that thought, stop this thought… No!
Let it be and go.

Blink, swallow, tingle,
taste, smell, see, hear, feel, think, fart,
itch, sting, tense, sit, twitch.

I relax the frown,
My mind shoots out and expands,
No frown, no problem 🙂

I write haikus late.
I dig early morning vibes,
Helps loose the filter.

I will end it here,
Good bye, au revoir, ciao, peace!
Good bye-ku hai-ku.

Slowing down

Recently it has been a bit of a roller coaster realising the power of the mind and that meditation actually changes something in your every day (after years of practice…). I am taking a conscious choice to just slow down and persist. Not get lost in any conciet that arises (and it does arise).

I’ve been feeling very calm recently as well as laser-like. So I think I will try to foster that calm some more. A quiet burn that hopefully will help me in my practice.

The act of reflecting on a day’s practice has been so beneficial to me to just track where I am. To see how I move around from pleasant practice to boredom sits to impatience on the cushion. Just highlights the utter changing nature of experience meditating. Helps me not grasp knowing it will fade really. Helps not to expect anything. This good stage I’m at will come and go.

Saying these ‘sage’-sounding words, makes me think of some of the hypocracy. In this stage I sort of want it to be over so I can get on with the meditation progress. There’s still that ‘what’s next’ and ‘what’s more’. I think ‘why did that night of sleep make me tired & drowsy while sitting? how can I avoid that?’ instead of acceptance of the present as well as the bigger picture of where I’m at.

I just really hope that I keep up meditation when the going gets rough. When the bliss wears out and the laundry calls, keep sitting. Keep at it.

Zafu Evangelist

I was reading Daniel Ingram’s Mastering The Core Teachings of the Buddha, in it it talks about a phase of a person’s meditation practice where they are quite fervant. They seem to think they have struck gold and think “Why doesn’t everyone meditate?”. They may mention to friends how blissed out their experiences are on the cushion in an effort to get them to meditate.

The fact is that I have an element of faith about where this is heading. Where meditation leads you. My aim isn’t to relieve stress or get better sleep. I respect and understand those aims but I think meditation can offer something far deeper once you do relieve that stress and get better sleep.

I feel reassured that more and more people are meditating even if it is using apps. I feel disapointed when I realise that the sort of meditator I am, is actually few and far between*. I feel worry about the comercialisation of mindfulness. I feel hope that more and more research is being done on effects of mindfulness & meditation.

It’s a mixed bag.

So I think I’ll reign it in, stop mentioning meditation when catching up with friends. Just walk the walk and sit on it (get it? do walking meditation then sit on the cushion to meditate… I feel you rolling your eyes).

*This may come across as pretentious. Me as a person who does unguided meditation that follows a vipassana or similar framework. I make no claims of being above anyone spiritually. I do support an element of pragmatism and secularism when it comes to meditation too, no need for dogma or religion.

Asking why on the cushion. Meditation Collection #1

I sit on the cushion,
I itch and twitch.
I say ‘itching’ and ‘twitching’,
To remind myself of what is.

I sit on the cushion,
I say ‘itching’,
Feel the itch,
My mind on the itch.

“Is there a mite on my face,
Crawling and making me itch?”
I say ‘wanting’,
I watch the desire to itch and scratch.

“Why is my face itching.
What could it be?”
I say ‘thinking’,
And leave it at the sense door.

“Why?”,
‘thinking’,
“But why?”,
‘thinking’.

The mindful mind is indiscriminate,
Just noticing the sensation.
There is no story to tell,
Just experiences to note.

I sit and I sit and I sit and I sit,
I itch and I note and I think and I note,
I remember the breath,
And I smile.

Three Marks

Some people say that some things

never change,

some things

feel satisfying,

and some things are

part of me.

They say that life is solid and real. That we can find happiness in the world.

Other people say that everything

is impermenant,

everything is

unsatisfying

and that both everything and nothing is

me.

They say that what we say as real, is as real as you perceive it. That we can find happiness within ourselves.

What do you think?