Contemplative Listening by Reverend Tom Capo preached on 10/18/2020

Meditation #1

            The following meditation for grounding was created for the practice of Generative Somatics (https://generativesomatics.org/).  The words were written by Susan Raffo who works with the Peoples Movement Center.

            First, come into standing position as you are able. If not sit up in your chair.  Notice where you are in a room and feel how your weight and stance are naturally on the ground.

            Now, notice your vertical. Feel the space between your feet and your knees and invite it to lengthen both towards the sky and towards the ground. Feel the space between your knees and your pelvis, invite it to lengthen, for there to be more space that comes here, both up and down. Do the same with the space between your pelvis and your diaphragm, invite it to length. Between your diaphragm and shoulders, along your neck, between your chin and the top of your head, down the length of your arms. Invite a lengthening in both directions. And then feel the entirety of your body and invite a lengthening between your feet and your head, towards the earth and towards the sky.

            This is your dignity, the place where you say “I am.” This is your vertical.

            Now, bring in your width. Start at your feet and feel each foot widening in [all] directions. Move into your leg and feel each leg widening, the inner leg moving further in, the outer leg moving out. Invite it to widen further. Come to your pelvis and feel the space between the two sides of your pelvis. Invite that space to expand, to widen out, left and right. Come into your belly, the sides of your torso, your ribcage, feel your sides and invite them to widen, the space inside to expand. Come to your shoulder blades and invite each shoulder to expand left to right. Continue up your body not forgetting your neck or your head, your arms and your hands. Now feel the entirety of your body and invite a widening between your left and right, an expansion from the center line that runs through your body out to the sides. A widening.

            This is your horizontal, the place of connection, where the “I” connects to other people, plants, all of our relatives. This is the “we”. This is your horizontal.

            Now bring in your depth. Feel your back, pay attention to your clothes against your skin, the feeling of space against your back, remember the back of your head, the back of your neck, the back of your legs your feet your arms, this whole back space and feel the space behind you. Now feel the front of your body and remember your face and forehead, the front of your shins, your feet, you belly and hands and feel the space in front of you. Feel yourself in the middle of this back and this front and connect the two and now expand, letting your front body expand forward and your back body expand back while you feel yourself in the middle. A widening.

            This is your depth, the place where you live in relationship to what has already happened and what is yet to emerge. This is where I and we live within space and time. This is your depth.

            Now bring all of these planes together, feeling them one after the other, vertical, horizontal, depth, feel yourself as 3D.

            Bring your gaze to an object in the room that is attractive or interesting to you. If not an object, an idea, a person, a dream, a thought, something you can sense as separate and outside of yourself. Feel your 3D self and then feel inside for your desire to move towards that item or thought or dream. Sense in for your connection to that thing and then, when you feel the connect of yourself to that idea or thing, let the desire move you towards it. Move until you feel you have arrived and then notice you have arrived. Practice this a few more times with different objects or dreams or other elements of desire. Wait until you feel the want or the longing or the connection to them and then move and then reach them.

            After you have practiced this for a few times and if you haven’t done this already, ground yourself again into the planes but connect them to your purpose. Why are you here? What is it that moves you? Feel your sense of purpose and connect it to those planes and then, when you are ready, let the purpose take your body and move you towards it. 

 

Meditation #2

Written by Martha K. Capo

            For a moment, see yourself at the foaming edge of land and liquid, watching the rhythms of the waves, watching the water transmit the energy of the winds traveling over it, watching that energy crest across the barrier of the sand and pebbles. Some pebbles, larger than others, only shift gently in place as the water sluices around them. Others, smaller, more agile, seem to chase the backwash as the water ebbs away, only to be returned--more or less--to where they began.

            Sometimes, we are boulders at the water's edge, absorbing the water's energy in stoic strength, standing solid and unmovable, defiant and unyielding as the water churns around us. (PAUSE) Sometimes, we are rocks: stubborn, slow to be moved, sluggish in our response to the tides pushing and pulling us. (PAUSE) Sometimes, we are pebbles tumbling helter-skelter, higglety-pigglety-pop, overwhelmed and unable to resist the breaking waves and sucking backwashes that we just can't seem to get away from. (PAUSE) And sometimes, we are sand, with an infinite capacity to accept and absorb and transmit the energies breaking against us, able to allow those energies to pass through us, through the pockets of silence, of space, of peace within us.

            Marine Biologist Rachel Carson wrote "[i]n every outthrust headland, in every curving beach, in every grain of sand there is a story of the earth." In every breath, in every curving muscle and ligament, in every pulse and rhythm you experience, there is a story of you. Of who you were, of who you are now, of who you will choose to be. Of how you choose to be connected to All That Is. A story that is still being written--by you.

            What are you today? The boulder? The rock? The pebble? The sand? All of these? What is the energy that is swirling around you? How is that changing you? How is that energy changed by your interaction with it? How will you choose to write your own story?

 

Sermon

            One of my favorite Buddhist authors is Brad Warner.  I have a couple of his books:  Sit Down and Shut Up: Punk Rock Commentaries on Buddha, God, Truth, Sex, Death, and Dogen's Treasury of the Right Dharma Eye and Hardcore Zen : Punk Rock, Monster Movies, and the Truth about Reality.  I plan to get some of his more recent books, I have my eye on Don't Be a Jerk: And Other Practical Advice from Dogen, Japan's Greatest Zen Master.  Just a little background on Brad, he started out life as a Punk Rock bass guitarist, then decided to go to Japan and needed work.  He was hired to get dressed up in those monster get-ups for Ultraman shows and movies.  While in Japan he studied Zen Buddhism and became an ordained Zen priest.  I actually met him in Cedar Rapids when he was there promoting Sit Down and Shut Up.  His philosophy is that we can all make time in our lives to sit down for a few minutes and be quiet, breathing and allowing our thoughts and feelings to flow through us in Zazen meditation and being open for emotional and spiritual grounding, insight, purpose, direction, and/or connection in the here and now.  The foundation of Buddhism according to Brad is: “Do as well as you possibly can. That's Buddhist morality.”  He does affirm the four Noble Truths of Buddhism, but has sort of a different way, perhaps a more modern way of presenting them: “The first noble truth, suffering, represents idealism. When you look at things from an idealistic viewpoint everything sucks, as the Descendents said in the song called “Everything Sucks” (from the album Everything Sucks). Nothing can possibly live up to the ideals and fantasies you’ve created. So we suffer because things are not the way we think they ought to be. Rather than face what really is, we prefer to retreat and compare what we’re living through with the way we think it oughta be. Suffering comes from the comparison between the two.” And he describes Zen monks as having achieved " a rare state of inner with-it-ness.”

            Now when it comes to meditation, prayer, ritual and all those kinds of things, he believes everyone is capable of getting some benefit from them, but “The very idea of higher states of consciousness is absurd. Comparing one state of consciousness to another and saying one is "higher" and the other is "mundane" is like eating a banana and complaining it's not a very good apple.” He goes on to say that “Practicing zazen [or really any form or meditation] is like gradually (or maybe not so gradually) getting your sight back.”  I hope that helps you with some of your expectations about meditation and prayer; we are not seeking an altered state of consciousness when we meditate or prayer.  We are opening ourselves to the contemplative practice of deep listening.

            To contemplate is to think about an action before doing it.  A contemplative practice is opening oneself to an inner vision or seeing transcendent of the intellect, facilitated by practices such as prayer or meditation.  There are so many contemplative practices and such disparate experiences from those practices, describing it can be like blind men trying to describe an elephant—one who feels the leg says the elephant is like a pillar; one who feels the tail says the elephant is like a rope; one who feels the trunk says the elephant is like a tree branch; one who feels the ear says the elephant is like a hand fan.  With contemplative practices you might here one person describing the effects as relaxation; another might say a contemplative practice resulted in their transformation; one might say a contemplative practice helped them learn more about themself; and another might say a contemplative practice connects them with their Goddess.

            When someone ask me what a contemplative practice can offer, I often tell the story of the martial arts student who approached his teacher with a question. "I'd like to improve my knowledge of the martial arts. In addition to learning from you, I'd like to study with another teacher in order to learn another style. What

do you think of this idea?" "The hunter who chases two rabbits," answered the master, "catches neither one.”  When we are focused on the goal or the benefits of meditation or prayer, we stop looking as deeply or clearly within ourselves.  Part of our conscious attention is devoted to the moment where it will all come together for us. Our desire and attachment to a particular outcome clouds the way, and keeps us from actually receiving the gifts, blessings, grace that we might receive from our contemplative practice.  

            I both pray and meditate.  I pray because I believe there is something out there beyond just the physical things around me.  Not that I pray with the intent to connect with whatever is out there, but just because I believe there is something out there.  And I pray because I believe that prayer helps me to affirm within me the values that I try to live by in this life.  And I don't prayer to make me live my values, I just feel that giving voice to those values makes it more likely that I will remember them as I live my life.

            I use a formulaic prayer that I developed—first I call out to that Infinite Power, whom people call by varying names, but whose grandeur and whose love no name expresses and no words can tell.  I don’t have a name for it; so I use many different names, depending on how I am feeling at the time—mystery, God, Goddess, father, mother, that which is beyond understanding, love, that which causes the flowers to shine and the stars to blossom, the list goes on. 

            Then I voice what I am grateful for in my life.  I list such things as the cool breeze on my face, the warmth of the sun, the ability to exercise to be healthy, my family and friends…sometimes something like—“I am grateful for being able to write this sermon." I give voice to these.  And I have noticed that voicing my thanks has resulted in an increased awareness of the many blessings, gifts, and grace that I experience in my life. 

            The next section of my prayer is for understanding of all that I am experiencing in my life.  I do not believe that things are put in my life by some greater power to help me learn or grow or be humble or whatever.  I do believe that I am called by my very existence to make meaning in life’s experiences.  Like what meaning or learning or wisdom will I gain as I move through this Covid 19 time.  This section of the prayer is to remind me to open my heart, mind, and soul to life. 

              Finally, I send out my hope and blessings for others.  Sometimes it sounds like this: “May the winds, the oceans, the herbs, and night and days, the mother earth, the father heaven, all vegetation, the sun, be all sweet to humankind.” And sometimes I send blessings and grace to healing for those who are ill or in pain.  I do believe that intentionally sending out my blessings out to others makes a difference.  I have read about studies showing that sending out positive regard positively affects people around you, but even without those studies I believe I would still send out blessings and hope because our world is so much in need of them.

            I also meditate.  When I meditate, I find my mind becomes clear and sometimes I experience insight or a different perspective on what is going on around me.   Not because I am looking for either of these things, but because I am open.

            I use Zazen meditation.  Basically what this is focusing on one's breathing.  I sit up straight, let me eyes rest, put my feet on the ground, and attend to all the sensations of my breathing.  Often, my breathing is from my abdomen, slow and steady.  That is it.  I sit there and breath mindfully.  I don’t expect anything, but I am grateful for what I receive.  My meditation helps me be mindful and live in the moment, and not just while I am meditating.  Through regular meditation, I have come to learn what many teachers of meditation have always said—that meditation needs to be looked upon “as a teacher rather than a servant,” “a process rather than a goal.” So I just breathe without expectations, without goals; I just practice bringing my focus to my breathing.  

            There are some elements that are consistent from one technique to another in meditation:  be relaxed, be comfortable, have a passive attitude, and focus on a “concentration point.”  A focus point or concentration point might be a candle, a picture, music, a mandala, drumming, chanting, sitting or walking.  Like we did in the last part of the first scripted meditation today, bringing your attention to an object across the room.  Or "if not an object, an idea, a person, a dream, a thought, something you can sense as separate and outside of yourself."  Like the visualization in the meditation by Martha that you heard today.  During this focus you might ask contemplate questions:  "What are you today? The boulder? The rock? The pebble? The sand? All of these? What is the energy that is swirling around you? How is that changing you? How is that energy changed by your interaction with it? How will you choose to write your own story?"  

            I haven’t talked a lot about passive attitude, other than to say don’t have expectations or goals.  Jack Kornfield, teacher in the vipassana movement in American Theravada Buddhism, offers this bit of wisdom (1993, Tricyle) about having a passive attitude during a contemplative practice.  He says as we practice "we become our own monastery. We create the compassionate space that allows for the arising of all things: sorrows, loneliness, shame, desire, regret, frustration, happiness."  I would frame this as creating a space for that which is stirring within us, a space that might offer us an opportunity for relaxation, awareness, insight, and/or wisdom to arise and for us to become aware of it.  Or as Kornfield's teacher, Achaan Chah describes this you are "taking the one seat." Achaan said, "Just go into the room [within oneself] and put one chair in the center, [then] open the doors and the windows [of the room], [and] take [that] seat in the center of the room… see who comes to visit. You will witness all kinds of scenes and actors, all kinds of temptations and stories, everything imaginable. Your only job is to stay in your seat. You will see it all arise and pass, and out of this, wisdom and understanding will come.'”

            But here's the thing, taking that one seat and simply observing one time, doesn't usually result in much.  Perhaps you get some relaxation of your body or mind that first time, but maybe not.  Let's just say that you are more likely to experience something more if you practice, practice, practice one type of meditation without expectation of what you might receive.  Not a very Western way of doing things, is it?  As with any practice, this is a process, not seeking perfection or a result.  After picking one practice, be patient and open as you stick with it. 

             I hope you do make some time for prayer and or meditation in your life.  I believe that in one way or another we all have some sort of contemplative practice, but I believe be intentional, consistent, and open during your practice offers many benefits for the practitioner, especially during difficult times like we are experiencing in our lives and in the world right now.  Keep in mind what Tibetan yogi Milarepa writes: “The affairs of the world will go on forever.  Do not delay the practice of meditation [and, I would add, prayer].”  There are always distractions, many things going on in the world—prayer and meditation are practices that can help you discern your path as the world moves on around you. 

            This life we have each been given is a journey of the holy, if we just recognize the holy in our experiences.   This life offers experiences of transformation, experiences that no words can express, that are just as real as the ground beneath our feet.  At one time in our lives our spiritual path may be a journey of the heart, for what the heart expresses, we call prayer.  At another point in our lives our spiritual path may be a journey of being, for what our inner being knows, we call meditation. This is your journey, your life practice.  Own it, and know yourself to be fully alive.  Namaste, Shalom, Peace.

“The Compassion of Resilience” by Reverend Tom Capo preached on 2/16/2020

Story: “What the Turtle Taught Theodore” By Gary Kowalski

Theodore Parker was born 1810 and died in 1860.  In his autobiography, Theodore Parker relates that as a child, four or five years old, living on a farm in West Roxbury, Massachusetts he was walking through the fields one day absent-mindedly swinging a stick through the tall grass. This was many years ago, in the days before the Civil War. It was summertime. He stopped to watch the water bubble along a creek. Then he noticed a turtle sunning itself on a rock.

He’d seen other boys use their sticks to hit turtles and other animals. It was part of what children thought was fun, just as some children still like to bully and hit those who are weaker than themselves. Often children, and grown-ups too, are copycats — mimicking the behavior of others who seem bigger or stronger than themselves. Young Theodore wanted to be like the other, older boys he’d seen, so he raised his stick into the air, taking aim and preparing to knock the turtle into the water.

Then something stopped him. Something seemed wrong about the situation. He looked again at the turtle, quiet, peaceful, enjoying the summer day just as he liked to feel the warmth and light of the sun. Had the turtle ever done him any harm? Was the turtle so different than himself? Slowly he lowered his stick and walked home, thinking about what had happened.

When he arrived home, his mother was there to greet him, and he told her about the incident. She listened carefully to Theodore, and listened especially carefully when he related how some strange force inside had stopped him from hitting the little animal. “Theodore,” she said, “that force inside you was the voice of conscience. Always pay attention to it. Always follow what your conscience tells you. It’s your moral compass that points you in the right direction. And if you honor your conscience, you’ll never go wrong in this world.”

Theodore Parker grew up to become a Unitarian minister, in fact one of the greatest leaders our faith has ever known. He became a champion of the defenseless who needed defending. He was a hero in the fight to end slavery in our country. He prayed to “Father and Mother God” and fought for women’s equality and their right to vote. He and his wife never had children of their own — but he felt a sense of kinship with the whole family of creation, people of all genders and races who had been made in the image of the holy. And it all started one summer day when he was just a child — a child who saw a turtle and decided to do what was right.

For those young and young at heart, we have crayons and a picture of a turtle for you to color, in order to remember young Theodore by.

Sermon

    I didn’t want to forget that Valentine’s Day just passed us by.  So I was looking for some Valentine’s Day cards that might be meaningful to Unitarian Universalists.  Here's one I came across: "Will you join the committee of my heart?" 

            And on NPR--all Unitarian Universalists listen to NPR right--I heard about this Islamic woman, Taz Ahmed, who is making Valentine cards for Millennials.  Here are some of hers.  “Cupid dropped an airstrike on my heart.”  “I’d never Muslim ban you from my heart.”  “Wanna roleplay TSA.”  And my favorite, “Call your representative…then call me.”

            Let’s get back to compassion and resilience.  To refresh our memory of the definition that we’re working with: resilience is being able to spring back emotionally after suffering through difficult and stressful times in one's life.  And compassion is the how we show others that we wish them to be free of suffering.

            When I was a chaplain in a Houston area hospital, I learned more about compassion and resilience than I could have ever imagined.  I was on-call late one night and received a page, yes we still had pagers, to go up to the cardiac unit.  When I arrived I went straight to the nurse’s station to find out who was in need.  The nurse told me that an African American woman was coding over and over again—her heart stopping—and the staff was required to bring her back to life over and over again.  The nurse was quite distressed.  She said the family demanded that the staff bring the woman back to life each time she coded.  At that moment, I heard another code go off and watched the staff run to the woman’s room, beat on her chest—I learned later breaking some of her ribs—then providing a shock to the heart.  I heard the family say something like, “She can’t die. She can’t die.  Don’t let her die.”

            After this chaos settled down, the nurse told me that the family didn’t trust the doctors and nurses to adequately treat their mother, this woman, because she was poor and black.  They were convinced that she was not getting the best treatment and that is why she was dying.  The staff asked me to talk to the family—five adults, three teenagers, and one toddler.  The five adults were her children, the teenagers and toddler her grandchildren.

            I hesitantly went over and asked if I could talk to them. I felt I was in over my head.  What could I—a newbie chaplain on my first overnight on-call-- offer this family?  So I simply started by asking them their names and their mother’s name.  As we introduced ourselves, I guided them to a room down the hall.  I let them talk, tell me about their distrust of the doctors and hospitals, then they talked about believing it was not their mother’s time to die.  Soon they were telling me that they didn’t know how they would live without her.  I asked them to tell me stories about her.  And each had wonderful stories, we talked for about an hour, about how she had kept them safe from the gangs, helped them get a good education, took care of the grandchildren.  She was the only parent they knew.  She was only person in their lives who showed them unconditional love—those are my words, not theirs, but I could tell that is what they were saying through their stories.  And amazingly enough, the mother didn’t code during that time. 

            After they started to wind down, I asked them what they wanted to do.  It seems no-one had asked them before.  All the staff had been doing was telling them what was happening and that the family needed to stop making the staff revive her and let her go.  I don’t think poorly of the staff; they too were under great stress, with the family accusing them of not taking adequate care of their mother.  I realized that the staff would also need some time with a chaplain after the family had some closure.

            The interesting thing was after I asked them what they wanted, they asked me what I thought they should do?  Well, I said I couldn’t tell them, but I wondered what they wanted to say to their mother, what they needed to tell her, and if they wanted to pray with their mother.  There was a sense of relief that came over the family as I said this, as well as tears.  Not hysterical tears like the ones that had been flowing before, but tears of relief, of release.

            They thought about it and said yes they had some things to say and did want to pray with their mother.  So together we went into their mother’s room.  I turned down the lights.  I lit a candle.  I guided the family around the bed, circling their mother.  I started with telling their mother that the family was with her and they wanted to talk.  One by one, they hesitantly did.  When the talking ended, I began a prayer and let each family member add to it in their own way.  Then I asked if the family was ready to say goodbye.  A rush of tears and then they all nodded their heads yes. 

            A few minutes after the family left, the woman passed away peacefully.

            This experience has stayed with me all these years.  How a little compassion and empathy can go a long way to help someone experience the path to resilience.  I did nothing miraculous.  Mostly what they needed was someone to listen, feel their pain, and encourage them to find a path forward for themselves. 

            Compassion given made an impact on this family, left me with an experience that still guides my actions, and also helped the staff feel some relief as well.  The staff did not want to continue prolonging this woman’s life, when they knew they were just lengthening her suffering. 

            In this faith community, one of the Principles we affirm is justice, equity, and compassion in human relations.  So often we focus on the justice and equity part of that Principle, wanting others to be treated justly or equitably.  But sometimes that doesn’t happen and, my friends, suffering is not something that is just or equitable.  Suffering comes to us all.  And compassion and empathy, which I believe are connected, are qualities we can cultivate to lessen the impact of suffering not only on others, but on ourselves as well. 

            Think back on the story of Theodore Parker and the turtle.  Parker by stopping himself from the destructive behavior he saw exhibited by others, and then reflecting with his own conscience on his relationship with the turtle, another living thing, felt within himself empathy for this little creature and treated the turtle with compassion, or at the very least did not hurt the turtle.  Sometimes that’s what compassion looks like in young children.  If you can help at least don’t hurt.  Parker wrote about this event in his life and wrote that it was foundational to his life, future, his work in the world, his prayers and his preaching.  He experienced from that moment on a sense of kinship with the whole family of creation, including people of all genders and races all who were made in the image of the holy.

            Parker is one of my favorite forebears.  His life and his writings teach me each time I read them.  They remind me to treat all people and creatures as if they are a spark of the divine.  They remind me to have empathy and compassion for all that exists on this planet and this planet itself.  For me, thinking of all creation as a spark of the divine helps me stop, as Parker did before using that stick, and reflect on the best way to treat those around me, and to treat them all with respect, dignity, worth, empathy, and compassion. 

Let me share a part of one of Parker’s prayers:  O Thou Infinite Power, whom [humans] call by varying names, but whose grandeur and whose love no name expresses and no words can tell…  [yet whose being is] in every star that flowers above and every flower that flames beneath…We thank thee for the primal virtues which shine aloft as stars, and not less for the charities which heal and soothe and bless, and are scattered at [our] living feet as flowers.  We bless thee for the great truths which have come down to us on the sounding way through the ages, encouraging and strengthening men [and women].  We thank thee for the poets  and prophets and mighty men [and women] of thought and piety, who spoke as they were moved… and brought truth to hu[mankind]; we thank thee that in our own day, not less, thy spirit still works with the children [of humanity]… May we learn what is right and…with all the strength that is in us…love our brothers [and sisters] as we love ourselves, and grow [in this]constantly… May we grow wiser and more just, be filled with more loving-kindness to our brother men [and sister women], and have a heartier and holier love…May no success in this world’s affairs ever harden our hearts, but make us more noble and more generous, and may the world’s sorrow and sickness and grief and disappointment and loss only rouse up the better soul that is in us ...”

       Let that sink in.  Each time I read this, I find things I need to remember to do in my life, and I experience new awarenesses.  I am reminded of my ministerial aspirations.  I remember to stop and notice the beauty all around me and recall again my interconnectedness with all creation.  And I remember to treat all creation as holy.  Treating creation as holy, to me, means that I need to practice compassion and empathy every day with all creation. 

Compassion and resilience aren’t just gifts that you give to others.  It is important to offer compassion and love to yourself as a regular spiritual practice.  This builds resilience and reinforces our ability to be compassionate to others.  Psychotherapist Linda Graham, MFT ( Mental Health.net--Compassion is Healing — Empathy is "Perspective Taking") wrote: “Compassion is one of a dozen positive, pro-social emotions that have been studied by behavioral scientists as well as neuroscientists for the last 20 years, along with gratitude, kindness, generosity, joy, awe, delight, and love. Self-compassion is especially potent because it activates the care-giving system [within us] and moves us to act, care, and protect [others].”  She went on:  “Resilience is a direct outcome of the practice [of compassion]. More compassion leads to more resilience.”

            We affirm that every person is important, of worth and dignity and I would say sacred. Accepting this, let us renew our pledge to live out those sacred and humane teachings that draw us toward compassion and love in ever-widening circles of care.  But first let’s start with ourselves.  So my friends I leave you with a meditation of love, compassion, and peace. I have been using this meditation each night for the past year and a half.  It is simply breathing in as I say to myself “I breathe in love and compassion” and when I breathe out, saying to myself, “I breathe out peace.”