Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Vocabulary
Earlier today I was bragging about how I had "the largest vocabulary of anyone I know." At the time I vaguely sensed it was not a smart thing to say. Later, I was at a meeting describing how I "resented it when other people have success." Someone else pointed out that that was called "envy." By golly, he was right! My vocabulary is so big, I can't even figure out what envy is! :)
Friday, April 21, 2006
Symbiosis
I realized I've been a bit remiss and have only been describing about 30% of the source of my current spiritual condition, which is, by the way, lots better than it used to be. In addition to studying and practicing Buddhism, there is another fellowship which I belong to, which i credit with the other 70%. Now the thing is that a core tradition of this fellowship is anonymity. In particular, when discussing it publicly, members are to remain anonymous. After some thought, I've decided this blog is an anonymous venue, so I can safely refer to the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous. Attending regular meetings for me is an important way to maintain my spiritual health. What I mean by this is maintaining a good attitude about myself and others, maintaining and cultivating the willingness to help others, do the right thing, and recognize the important things in life. Meditation and Buddhist practices definitely help me with this, and in fact the fellowship has encouraged me to cultivate my Buddhist practices. On the other hand my Buddhist practice has helped me be part of the fellowship, and to practice the so-called steps. That explains my title. The two components interact with each other and reinforce each other in complex ways.
I also wanted to say a few words about why I think the fellowship is so powerful. I think it's because it consists of individuals for whom spiritual health is not just an optional nicety, but instead consists of individuals for which spiritual health is a matter of life and death, literally. Although many of us start out by looking for "an easier softer way" those that remain come to learn that total dedication is essential. So we in the fellowship are all working, incredibly earnestly, toward this goal of improving ourselves spiritually. (A summary of what I mean is given above: maintaining a good attitude about myself and others, maintaining and cultivating the willingness to help others, doing the right thing, and recognizing the important things in life.) That's why I think it works so well.
My statement that it is a matter of life and death may sound like hyperbole. I don't think it is. Alcoholics have a progressive disease which involves both a physical and mental component. The physical component occurs when they put alcohol into their body. The liver and pancreas don't secrete the right enzymes, and one of the byproducts of alcohol digestion, acetone, remains in the bloodstream far longer than in a normal person. (Moreover, this worsens as we age. Thus, it is "progressive.")
This acetone creates a physical craving, which causes an alcoholic to want to drink more. This further increases the acetone level, causing the alcoholic to want to drink even more, in a vicious cycle. A normal person wants to stop after one or two drinks, whereas an alcoholic always wants another one. So, once an alcoholic manages to stop drinking, that craving subsides, and everything's fine. Here's where the mental component comes in. After a week, a month, a year, two years, or whatever, the mind gives in to the compulsion, and the alcoholic takes a drink, initiating the vicious cycle. The main problem for an alcoholic is how to combat this part of the disease, and the solution has been found to be the maintenance of one's spiritual health. If you can maintain your mind in a condition where it doesn't want to pick up that first drink, the physical aspects of the disease are irrelevant. You just won't pick it up. So we've reached a strange conclusion: the solution to a physical illness is spirituality. That's why for us alcoholics spirituality is a matter of life and death. Once we pick up that drink, we could easily end up dead, or we could kill someone else in a car wreck, or whatever. This is especially true if a lot of time has passed since we drank last. Because the physical reaction keeps getting worse as we age, we won't pick up where we left off. We will be in a far worse place.
I feel like it would be a crime not to pass along what might be life-saving information which has helped me out so much. And that's why I've done it. :)
I also wanted to say a few words about why I think the fellowship is so powerful. I think it's because it consists of individuals for whom spiritual health is not just an optional nicety, but instead consists of individuals for which spiritual health is a matter of life and death, literally. Although many of us start out by looking for "an easier softer way" those that remain come to learn that total dedication is essential. So we in the fellowship are all working, incredibly earnestly, toward this goal of improving ourselves spiritually. (A summary of what I mean is given above: maintaining a good attitude about myself and others, maintaining and cultivating the willingness to help others, doing the right thing, and recognizing the important things in life.) That's why I think it works so well.
My statement that it is a matter of life and death may sound like hyperbole. I don't think it is. Alcoholics have a progressive disease which involves both a physical and mental component. The physical component occurs when they put alcohol into their body. The liver and pancreas don't secrete the right enzymes, and one of the byproducts of alcohol digestion, acetone, remains in the bloodstream far longer than in a normal person. (Moreover, this worsens as we age. Thus, it is "progressive.")
This acetone creates a physical craving, which causes an alcoholic to want to drink more. This further increases the acetone level, causing the alcoholic to want to drink even more, in a vicious cycle. A normal person wants to stop after one or two drinks, whereas an alcoholic always wants another one. So, once an alcoholic manages to stop drinking, that craving subsides, and everything's fine. Here's where the mental component comes in. After a week, a month, a year, two years, or whatever, the mind gives in to the compulsion, and the alcoholic takes a drink, initiating the vicious cycle. The main problem for an alcoholic is how to combat this part of the disease, and the solution has been found to be the maintenance of one's spiritual health. If you can maintain your mind in a condition where it doesn't want to pick up that first drink, the physical aspects of the disease are irrelevant. You just won't pick it up. So we've reached a strange conclusion: the solution to a physical illness is spirituality. That's why for us alcoholics spirituality is a matter of life and death. Once we pick up that drink, we could easily end up dead, or we could kill someone else in a car wreck, or whatever. This is especially true if a lot of time has passed since we drank last. Because the physical reaction keeps getting worse as we age, we won't pick up where we left off. We will be in a far worse place.
I feel like it would be a crime not to pass along what might be life-saving information which has helped me out so much. And that's why I've done it. :)
Morning
Plastic electronics do not define me
Anymore than paper and liquid
Anymore than the elements
Of which I am borne.
We sit staring as if in a mirror, seeking recognition, smiling in terror, but if you smile to me
The filth across the floor
breeds pestilence.
A sock, astray, bugs.
Crumbs crawl from the couch.
The air teems.
But light is salvation,
song is renewal
The air is never still.
It teems.
Anymore than paper and liquid
Anymore than the elements
Of which I am borne.
We sit staring as if in a mirror, seeking recognition, smiling in terror, but if you smile to me
The filth across the floor
breeds pestilence.
A sock, astray, bugs.
Crumbs crawl from the couch.
The air teems.
But light is salvation,
song is renewal
The air is never still.
It teems.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Ego and Egolessness
One of the things that seems very easy for an ex-Christian to understand is egolessness or selflessness. The idea that the self is not so important. But I think there is actually a vast difference here between the two concepts. Of course, we must forget the idea that ego is sinful. But beyond that, I think the word "ego," having many different connotations and uses, both technical and general, is confusing.
We must have a strong ego to properly let it go. My main teacher in Zen thus far has been Shunryu Suzuki. He says that to practice zazen is to express our true selves. In yet another duality, the leaving of the self allows another self space. In psychological terms, I believe what happens is that both ego and superego are quieted, and that afterward, superego may not be as assertive or powerful. My roundabout point here is that there is some danger in the encouragement to egolessness. For those like myself with bruised, shrunken, damaged egos, it is important to rehabilitate the thing before letting it go. I must understand what my will is before I can really choose not to follow it.
"Each one of us must make his own true way, and when we do, that way will express the universal way. This is the mystery. When you understand one thing through and through, you understand everything. When you try to understand everything, you will notunderstand anything. The best way is to understand yourself, and then you will understand everything. So when you try hard to make your own way you will help others, and you will be helped by others. Before you make your own way you cannot help anyone, and no one can help you. To be independent in this true sense, we have to forget everything we have in our mind and discover something quite new and different moment after moment. This is how we live in this world."
--Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind; "Emptiness"; p.111.
I am glad I quoted at the end of this piece as opposed to the start, because I do not know how to follow such words properly.
We must have a strong ego to properly let it go. My main teacher in Zen thus far has been Shunryu Suzuki. He says that to practice zazen is to express our true selves. In yet another duality, the leaving of the self allows another self space. In psychological terms, I believe what happens is that both ego and superego are quieted, and that afterward, superego may not be as assertive or powerful. My roundabout point here is that there is some danger in the encouragement to egolessness. For those like myself with bruised, shrunken, damaged egos, it is important to rehabilitate the thing before letting it go. I must understand what my will is before I can really choose not to follow it.
"Each one of us must make his own true way, and when we do, that way will express the universal way. This is the mystery. When you understand one thing through and through, you understand everything. When you try to understand everything, you will notunderstand anything. The best way is to understand yourself, and then you will understand everything. So when you try hard to make your own way you will help others, and you will be helped by others. Before you make your own way you cannot help anyone, and no one can help you. To be independent in this true sense, we have to forget everything we have in our mind and discover something quite new and different moment after moment. This is how we live in this world."
--Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind; "Emptiness"; p.111.
I am glad I quoted at the end of this piece as opposed to the start, because I do not know how to follow such words properly.
Monday, April 10, 2006
I am human
I am glad you're posting now Beckett. Sorry about the defensive nature of some of my recent comments. I appreciate your honesty and I truly believe that honesty is necessary for real growth. I sometimes forget that and fail to be completely honest with myself and others in some situations. For example, I went to lunch with a couple of people yesterday and I felt like I was controlling my behavior for the sake of appearances. It didn't feel good then or afterwards. In fact, it left a kind of psychic stain on my consciousness. I didn't really realize it. I have been agitated this morning and I didn't really know why, until I wrote these words.
I understand your instinctive revulsion, Beckett, for the trappings of religion. Heck, I felt that way myself a few short months ago. I'm not trying to convert you to Tibetan Buddhism. You need to do what you have to do. If something I say can be of benefit to you in your practice, that's wonderful. If something doesn't feel right, don't use it. After all, that's what I do when I hear other people's ideas. I use what seems useful and leave aside what doesn't feel right. On the other hand, and I am pointedly not implying anything about your practice here, I have noticed that there is a kind of fear I have that I need to lean in to. That is, I'm afraid of something, such as going to the Buddhist group, and it is good for me to go, just to dissipate the fear. It helps me to be more open with life in general, to accept the good and the bad. it helps me to be more receptive to the world around me and the needs of others. It also makes life more interesting. By encountering situations I instinctively avoid, my life becomes richer.
I understand your instinctive revulsion, Beckett, for the trappings of religion. Heck, I felt that way myself a few short months ago. I'm not trying to convert you to Tibetan Buddhism. You need to do what you have to do. If something I say can be of benefit to you in your practice, that's wonderful. If something doesn't feel right, don't use it. After all, that's what I do when I hear other people's ideas. I use what seems useful and leave aside what doesn't feel right. On the other hand, and I am pointedly not implying anything about your practice here, I have noticed that there is a kind of fear I have that I need to lean in to. That is, I'm afraid of something, such as going to the Buddhist group, and it is good for me to go, just to dissipate the fear. It helps me to be more open with life in general, to accept the good and the bad. it helps me to be more receptive to the world around me and the needs of others. It also makes life more interesting. By encountering situations I instinctively avoid, my life becomes richer.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Death and the Everyman
Though this blog has been active for months, I post here as a contributor for the first time. For a couple reasons, I have been out of sorts lately. Not centered. Having trouble meditating. Having trouble feeling at ease. It is important not to cower in the face of dis-ease but acclimate oneself to it.
Hence, today's post. The greatest dis-ease: death. Not surprisingly Zen Buddhist texts are not shy about death. Nor of course is the Bible. It is often postulated that religion exists at the edges of human knowledge. Thus, as our knowledge has expanded, religion's dominion has dwindled. There is, though, one area over which religion has lost no power: death and the hereafter. Christianity taught me when I was young that this world was limited, but the next was unlimited. It taught me to be good so that I could go to heaven and experience eternal bliss with the heavenly father. Present pains are transitory, and will be redressed in heaven. We all know the meek shall inherit the earth. Death is, then, nothing to fear, but something to embrace, as a trip to paradise. Yet I continued to fear death; both of myself and others.
Zen Buddhism has also encouraged me to accept death; even embrace it. Not because I will be headed for an afterlife, but because I will resume my true nature as nothingness. I am to accept death because I am unattached to life.
There are some harmonies beween both traditions. Both encourage us to live in the moment, because we do not know what moment will be our last. They teach that attachment to the past and future are irrelevant. The present moment, being alive and in contact with what is happening right now are what matter.
Meditation seems to be a little dose of death. The clearing of all thoughts. The release of breath, emptying of the lungs. The absolute stillness. By tasting death in these little doses, does one become more comfortable with ultimate stillness? I realized when I was quitting smoking that part of my addiction was driven, ironically, by fear of death. If I do it to myself, might it be easier to take?
Nonattachment is an easy idea to get behind when the things to which one is attempting to let go of are clearly harmul: temper, addictions, a bad relationship. But for it to be practiced fully, one must be equally willing to let go of "good things:" love, sex, life. There is a strong similarity between Plato's enjoinment to moderation, and Buddhism's attempt at evenness. Not too high, not too low. Not too much, not too little. It is relatively easy to accept that one could become comfortable letting go of her own life; that one might be acquiescent at the moment of death. Letting go of the life of a loved one is much more difficult. Recently, on one of these posts, we talked of music and its use in sad moments. Here is a line that has always struck me with its sadness and truth: "Do you know how much I love you, is a hope that somehow you will save me from this darkness." (Bonnie Prince Billy, I See a Darkness)
I am not really laying out an argument here, just the chaos of thoughts that fly around the subject. I wouldn't feel so at ends if I could lay out a strong argument about death (that I believed in, at least). And if I could, I'd either be a devotee of an established thought system or a major philosopher.
The closest I can come to a synthesis is that living in the moment is vital. And if every moment is given its due, the unanswered question of death can remain that way interminably. Grief and sadness come when one dwells on the past; what can no longer be. Whether someone has passed away, or a friend has simpy gone out of your life, the sadness comes from the lack of an ability to recreate the moments that have alreasy passed between you. It's a very selfish, which isn't to say bad, feeling.
One more quote from Bonnie Prince Billy, aka Will Oldham: Death to everone is gonna come...death to me, and death to you, what else can we do.
And, as a postcript, in an earlier post, V suggested that a way to think about reincarnation without bringing the supernatural into play was that in each moment one is reborn: is not the same person. Recently, a friend suggested another way to think of it: Traumas and triumphs are passed down through the generations. A potato famine reverberates in the new world, in the tenement, then in the suburban home. It is bequeathed to each subsequent generation. Your forebears live in you: not just in your genes, but in your worldview, and in much more subtle and profound ways than we typically imagine.
Hence, today's post. The greatest dis-ease: death. Not surprisingly Zen Buddhist texts are not shy about death. Nor of course is the Bible. It is often postulated that religion exists at the edges of human knowledge. Thus, as our knowledge has expanded, religion's dominion has dwindled. There is, though, one area over which religion has lost no power: death and the hereafter. Christianity taught me when I was young that this world was limited, but the next was unlimited. It taught me to be good so that I could go to heaven and experience eternal bliss with the heavenly father. Present pains are transitory, and will be redressed in heaven. We all know the meek shall inherit the earth. Death is, then, nothing to fear, but something to embrace, as a trip to paradise. Yet I continued to fear death; both of myself and others.
Zen Buddhism has also encouraged me to accept death; even embrace it. Not because I will be headed for an afterlife, but because I will resume my true nature as nothingness. I am to accept death because I am unattached to life.
There are some harmonies beween both traditions. Both encourage us to live in the moment, because we do not know what moment will be our last. They teach that attachment to the past and future are irrelevant. The present moment, being alive and in contact with what is happening right now are what matter.
Meditation seems to be a little dose of death. The clearing of all thoughts. The release of breath, emptying of the lungs. The absolute stillness. By tasting death in these little doses, does one become more comfortable with ultimate stillness? I realized when I was quitting smoking that part of my addiction was driven, ironically, by fear of death. If I do it to myself, might it be easier to take?
Nonattachment is an easy idea to get behind when the things to which one is attempting to let go of are clearly harmul: temper, addictions, a bad relationship. But for it to be practiced fully, one must be equally willing to let go of "good things:" love, sex, life. There is a strong similarity between Plato's enjoinment to moderation, and Buddhism's attempt at evenness. Not too high, not too low. Not too much, not too little. It is relatively easy to accept that one could become comfortable letting go of her own life; that one might be acquiescent at the moment of death. Letting go of the life of a loved one is much more difficult. Recently, on one of these posts, we talked of music and its use in sad moments. Here is a line that has always struck me with its sadness and truth: "Do you know how much I love you, is a hope that somehow you will save me from this darkness." (Bonnie Prince Billy, I See a Darkness)
I am not really laying out an argument here, just the chaos of thoughts that fly around the subject. I wouldn't feel so at ends if I could lay out a strong argument about death (that I believed in, at least). And if I could, I'd either be a devotee of an established thought system or a major philosopher.
The closest I can come to a synthesis is that living in the moment is vital. And if every moment is given its due, the unanswered question of death can remain that way interminably. Grief and sadness come when one dwells on the past; what can no longer be. Whether someone has passed away, or a friend has simpy gone out of your life, the sadness comes from the lack of an ability to recreate the moments that have alreasy passed between you. It's a very selfish, which isn't to say bad, feeling.
One more quote from Bonnie Prince Billy, aka Will Oldham: Death to everone is gonna come...death to me, and death to you, what else can we do.
And, as a postcript, in an earlier post, V suggested that a way to think about reincarnation without bringing the supernatural into play was that in each moment one is reborn: is not the same person. Recently, a friend suggested another way to think of it: Traumas and triumphs are passed down through the generations. A potato famine reverberates in the new world, in the tenement, then in the suburban home. It is bequeathed to each subsequent generation. Your forebears live in you: not just in your genes, but in your worldview, and in much more subtle and profound ways than we typically imagine.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
A Wonderful Weekend
This Sunday, at our Buddhist sitting group (Losel Shedrup Ling) we had a visit from Ani Yeshe Palmo, who is a Lama. (I don't really understand what "ani" and "lama" mean.) She talked for two and a half hours, and my heart was touched a couple of times. She told us about Shinay practice, which is essentially, the form of meditation where you sweep thoughts from your mind. Prior to this talk, I had no idea that there were other kinds. She said that before Shinay, you should 1. ask for help from your teacher. You can visualize the historical Buddha here, or the Dalai Lama, or, if you have a formal teacher, you can visualize him or her. The exact words from the formal practice are:
Glorious and precious Root Lama, seated on the lotus and moon seat on the crown of my head, through your great kindness, having accepted me as your disciple, please bestow upon me the enlightened accomplishments of your body, speech and mind.
You can visualize your teacher, beyond size, seated on a white moon-disk on a lotus above your head.
The second step is the refuge prayer:
We go for refuge to the genuine, glorious Lamas. We go for refuge to the mandalas of meditation deities. We go for refuge to the Buddhas, the transcendent victorious ones endowed with all qualities. We go for refuge to the Sacred Dharma. We go for refuge to the Noble Sangha. We go for refuge to the assembly of dakas, dakinis, Dharma protectors, and guardians who possess the eye of wisdom. [recite 3 times]
Ani Yeshe Pomo suggested that we visualize all the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas (the Noble Sangha) as clouds, and after a while, we can differentiate the clouds into individual Buddhas.
The third step is about bodhichitta, which is about using our accumulated merit to help others. (I've posted about Bodhichitta before, quoting Pema Chödrön.)
To the Buddha, Dharma, and the Supreme Assembly, I go for refuge until I attain enlightenment. Through the merit of my practice of generosity and the others [other practices], may I accomplish Buddhahood for the benefit of beings.[recite three times.]
Now comes the Shinay meditation. Meditate, possibly concentrating on the breath, and aiming for having your eyes open, sweeping thoughts away. When a thought occurs, gently push it away.
After this you can do a different type of meditation. (I forget it's name.) Here, when a thought occurs, instead of pushing it away, look directly at it. Meditate with your own mind as the object of meditation. You can also concentrate on each of your five senses. Abide with the one doing the watching, or "Watch the watcher." Abide with the one doing the hearing. Abide with the one experiencing tactile sensations. We had candles which we smelled, abiding with the one doing the smelling. We also had a little nut or raisin that we tasted, abiding with the one doing the tasting.
After this meditation is over, you can practice tonglen. Imagine your root Lama over your head on the Moon disk over the Lotus. Imagine a beam of light emanates from this root Lama, and hits your heart (not the organ.) It converts the blackness of your afflictions into pure white light that fills your body. This is performing tonglen on yourself. Now imagine someone you love, and imagine that as you breath in you are drawing the black smoke of their afflictions into your body, where it vanishes. Their blackness disapears and is replaced by pure white light. Now, and this is harder, imagine this same process for someone you dislike, or even hate. Finally, imagins doing this for all sentient beings at once, drawing in their afflictions as a black smoke through you nose, and it disappears as it enters you, nullified by the white light filling you.
The last step is very important, and I was quite touched to hear Ani Yeshe Pomo's explanation. This step is the dedication of merit. You accumulate merit through this practice, but if you don't render it indestructible, it can be spent in an instant. She said that if you go outside and step on a spider after practicing, that can immediately dissipate your accumulated merit. So what you do is seal the deal by dedicating the merit for the benefit of all sentient beings, whereupon it becomes indestructible. The exact wording is not important, just the fact that we do it. Here are the words we used:
Through this merit, attaining omniscience, having defeated all harmful enemies (the mental afflictions), may I liberate all beings from the ocean of existence, which is swept with the waves of birth, old age, sickness, and death. The courageous one, Jampal, knows things as they are, as does Kuntuzangpo. May I train following their example, and completely dedicate all of these virtues. Through this virtue, may all beings, having perfected the accumulation of merit and wisdom, attain the two sacred bodies of Buddha that arise from merit and wisdom. Through the blessings of the Buddhas, who have attained the three bodies, and the blessings of the ultimate, changeless Dharma, and the blessings of the infinite aspirations of the Sangha, dedicating in accord with the truth, may my aspiration prayer be accomplished.
She also said that it was important to practice every day, even if you abbreviate it to two minutes, but that you should include all of the steps (omitting the second type of meditation (mind,sense) and/or tonglen if necessary). In particular, the dedication of merit should always be included, even if all you say is "I dedicate this merit for the benefit of all sentient beings."
I hope I didn't garble this too much. Ani Yeshe Pomo was a soft-spoken unassuming woman with a powerful message, and I hope I have communicated it to some degree.
Glorious and precious Root Lama, seated on the lotus and moon seat on the crown of my head, through your great kindness, having accepted me as your disciple, please bestow upon me the enlightened accomplishments of your body, speech and mind.
You can visualize your teacher, beyond size, seated on a white moon-disk on a lotus above your head.
The second step is the refuge prayer:
We go for refuge to the genuine, glorious Lamas. We go for refuge to the mandalas of meditation deities. We go for refuge to the Buddhas, the transcendent victorious ones endowed with all qualities. We go for refuge to the Sacred Dharma. We go for refuge to the Noble Sangha. We go for refuge to the assembly of dakas, dakinis, Dharma protectors, and guardians who possess the eye of wisdom. [recite 3 times]
Ani Yeshe Pomo suggested that we visualize all the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas (the Noble Sangha) as clouds, and after a while, we can differentiate the clouds into individual Buddhas.
The third step is about bodhichitta, which is about using our accumulated merit to help others. (I've posted about Bodhichitta before, quoting Pema Chödrön.)
To the Buddha, Dharma, and the Supreme Assembly, I go for refuge until I attain enlightenment. Through the merit of my practice of generosity and the others [other practices], may I accomplish Buddhahood for the benefit of beings.[recite three times.]
Now comes the Shinay meditation. Meditate, possibly concentrating on the breath, and aiming for having your eyes open, sweeping thoughts away. When a thought occurs, gently push it away.
After this you can do a different type of meditation. (I forget it's name.) Here, when a thought occurs, instead of pushing it away, look directly at it. Meditate with your own mind as the object of meditation. You can also concentrate on each of your five senses. Abide with the one doing the watching, or "Watch the watcher." Abide with the one doing the hearing. Abide with the one experiencing tactile sensations. We had candles which we smelled, abiding with the one doing the smelling. We also had a little nut or raisin that we tasted, abiding with the one doing the tasting.
After this meditation is over, you can practice tonglen. Imagine your root Lama over your head on the Moon disk over the Lotus. Imagine a beam of light emanates from this root Lama, and hits your heart (not the organ.) It converts the blackness of your afflictions into pure white light that fills your body. This is performing tonglen on yourself. Now imagine someone you love, and imagine that as you breath in you are drawing the black smoke of their afflictions into your body, where it vanishes. Their blackness disapears and is replaced by pure white light. Now, and this is harder, imagine this same process for someone you dislike, or even hate. Finally, imagins doing this for all sentient beings at once, drawing in their afflictions as a black smoke through you nose, and it disappears as it enters you, nullified by the white light filling you.
The last step is very important, and I was quite touched to hear Ani Yeshe Pomo's explanation. This step is the dedication of merit. You accumulate merit through this practice, but if you don't render it indestructible, it can be spent in an instant. She said that if you go outside and step on a spider after practicing, that can immediately dissipate your accumulated merit. So what you do is seal the deal by dedicating the merit for the benefit of all sentient beings, whereupon it becomes indestructible. The exact wording is not important, just the fact that we do it. Here are the words we used:
Through this merit, attaining omniscience, having defeated all harmful enemies (the mental afflictions), may I liberate all beings from the ocean of existence, which is swept with the waves of birth, old age, sickness, and death. The courageous one, Jampal, knows things as they are, as does Kuntuzangpo. May I train following their example, and completely dedicate all of these virtues. Through this virtue, may all beings, having perfected the accumulation of merit and wisdom, attain the two sacred bodies of Buddha that arise from merit and wisdom. Through the blessings of the Buddhas, who have attained the three bodies, and the blessings of the ultimate, changeless Dharma, and the blessings of the infinite aspirations of the Sangha, dedicating in accord with the truth, may my aspiration prayer be accomplished.
She also said that it was important to practice every day, even if you abbreviate it to two minutes, but that you should include all of the steps (omitting the second type of meditation (mind,sense) and/or tonglen if necessary). In particular, the dedication of merit should always be included, even if all you say is "I dedicate this merit for the benefit of all sentient beings."
I hope I didn't garble this too much. Ani Yeshe Pomo was a soft-spoken unassuming woman with a powerful message, and I hope I have communicated it to some degree.
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